If you’ve ever wondered why people in long-term relationships sometimes feel like they’re watching the same movie on repeat—even when they love the plot and the co-star—it might help to blame an old presidential anecdote and a pile of horny lab rats.

Welcome to the Coolidge Effect: a not-so-fun biological feature that makes sexual novelty exciting… and sexual familiarity, well, less so.

This post is going to walk you through the science, the controversy, the cultural baggage, and the implications of the Coolidge Effect for real couples in real bedrooms—not just rats in cages.

And because we’re grown-ups, we’ll do this with the usual cocktail of dry humor, APA-style citations, and compassionate skepticism for the stories we tell ourselves about desire.

What Is the Coolidge Effect?

What Is Intensive Parenting Burnout?

You love your kids. You read the books, pack the snacks, schedule the piano lessons, regulate your tone, monitor screen time, and teach them about emotional intelligence in the checkout line.

And you're exhausted — not just in your body, but in your soul.

That’s intensive parenting burnout: a slow, corrosive depletion caused not by apathy or neglect, but by cultural over-functioning. It thrives in high-achieving families, hides behind smiling family photos, and sounds like:

"I’m doing everything right.
Why does it still feel like I’m failing?"

In the great American tradition of solving systemic oppression by blaming individuals, we built a myth: the Superwoman Schema.

Think: Harriet Tubman, Rosa Parks, your grandmother, your mother, you.

Coined by psychologist Cheryl Woods-Giscombe (2010), the Superwoman Schema describes the internalized belief that a Black woman must be strong, self-sacrificing, and emotionally contained at all times.

Not because she wants to be. Because she has to be.

The thinking goes: If I’m not strong, who will protect my children? Who will advocate for my family in racist institutions? Who will hold this fragile lineage of dignity together with two hands and no rest?

And so, emotional suppression becomes a ritual. Vulnerability becomes indulgence. Softness becomes dangerous.

Once upon a time, if you wanted to glimpse a priest’s biceps, you had to wait for the parish picnic and pray for volleyball weather.

These days? Just open TikTok.

Welcome to the Vatican’s latest strategy to resurrect faith in the age of the scroll: attractive clergy with influencer-level charisma.

The message? Come for the abs… Stay for the absolution.

Let’s talk about something uncomfortable: how a daughter’s perceived attractiveness and a father’s income and educationlevel can shape the intensity, tone, and texture of their relationship.

If you’re already clutching your pearls or polishing your Freud jokes, you’re not alone.

But a new study in Adaptive Human Behavior and Physiology (Garza et al., 2024) wants you to take a breath—and take a look.

This research leans on two frameworks that don’t always get invited to the same party: life history theory and the daughter-guarding hypothesis.

Together, they offer a surprisingly cohesive picture of how modern dads—shaped by economics, education, and old instincts—relate to their daughters in emotional, protective, and even controlling ways.

Let’s say you’re a woman. You’re scanning dating profiles.

One catches your eye: good jawline, reads books, doesn’t look too likely he’s going to quote Joe Rogan over brunch.

Better yet, he’s looking for something serious.

In theory, this kind of profile should bring out your best self—spark your originality, ignite your creativity. You want to stand out, right?

But according to a recent study published in Evolutionary Psychology, the opposite may happen. If you find yourself too sexually aroused by this long-term-oriented dreamboat, your creative engine might not rev up—it might stall completely.

You meant to co-parent. You really did. You read the blogs. You downloaded the apps.

You attended a “Parenting After Divorce” workshop with complimentary lukewarm coffee. And then reality arrived—wearing your ex’s face.

Every email became a trap. Every pickup a cold war.

You found yourself debating whether “Thanks for the update” was passive-aggressive or just aggressive-aggressive.

Welcome to the moment many parents reach: the one where co-parenting becomes aspirational and parallel parenting becomes necessary.

They used to argue about the thermostat. Now they argue about which driveway counts as “neutral ground.”

This is how love dies in the suburbs: not with a bang, but with a court order and a co-parenting app.

It’s called Parallel Parenting, and it exists for people who once promised to grow old together but now can’t make eye contact in the school parking lot.

It’s parenting in exile. Two governments. One child. No diplomatic relations.

Let’s say the hard part out loud. More people than ever are turning to ChatGPT not just for directions, recipes, or resume tips—but for emotional support.

It’s 2025, and your therapist might be a chatbot.

But here’s the catch: Sam Altman, CEO of OpenAI, says those heartfelt confessions aren’t protected by the same legal privileges as your real therapist’s notepad.

In a conversation this week with comedian and podcast host Theo Von, Altman laid it out plainly: “If you go talk to ChatGPT about your most sensitive stuff and then there’s like a lawsuit or whatever, we could be required to produce that,” he said. “And I think that’s very screwed up.”

It is.

And it’s something that, until recently, didn’t seem like an urgent legal gray zone.

But now, with millions of users treating ChatGPT like an always-on therapist, life coach, and digital diary, the stakes have changed Significantly.

By now, you’ve probably seen one: a hyper-realistic toddler doll, complete with glassy eyes, mohair lashes, weighted limbs, and a name like Paisley or Jaxon.

If you’re lucky, they’re just sitting quietly in a pink stroller. If you’re unlucky, they’re buckled into the Target cart ahead of you while their owner argues with a cashier about expired coupons—pausing only to coo “It’s okay, baby girl” to five pounds of vinyl.

Welcome to the world of reborn toddler dolls, a niche hobby that refuses to stay niche.

Reborns started as hyper-realistic infant dolls in the 1990s, but they’ve grown—literally. Now we have toddlers.

And not just any toddlers: sleepy, chubby-cheeked silicone children that look like they should be in preschool but are instead being bottle-fed in YouTube “roleplay” videos for millions of views.

So… what’s going on?

In the sacred and solemn halls of couples therapy, a new hero has emerged. It’s not a fancy technique, a brilliant insight, or even a laminated worksheet.

It’s a rubber chicken.

Yes. A rubber chicken. Maybe plush. Maybe crocheted. Maybe plastic with squeaky feet.

But always, undeniably, a Therapy Chicken.

And it just might be the next viral couples therapy meme—equal parts hilarious and helpful. The kind of thing that starts as a joke and ends with tears of relief.

Why a Chicken? Why Now?

Is there a link between income and romantic intentions?

A new study in the Journal of Marriage and Family offers a compelling twist on the old adage: money can’t buy love, but it might increase your chances of starting a relationship.

Researchers Johanna Peetz and Geoff MacDonald found that single people with higher incomes were significantly more likely to say they wanted a romantic partner, felt more emotionally and logistically ready to date, and were more likely to enter a relationship within the year.

But here’s the catch: they weren’t any happier being single than lower-income souls.

In short, income predicted relationship pursuit, but not satisfaction with solo life.