Tuesday, November 8, 2011

Stalking is the New Dating... Apparently.


Stalking is the new dating....or so it would seem. A plethora of websites and articles from credible and non-credible sources will tell us that too much social networking and interacting is bad for children. It negatively affects their developing social skills, provides too much personal information about and from our children and usually results in a less social personality. However, what these sources don’t often cite enough, is how much worse it is for potential new relationships and dating. It negatively affects their developing relationships, provides too much personal information about and from a potential new suitor and usually results in lessening chance of love. Sadly, Facebook activity can often make or break a relationship.” That’s silly,” you say? Yes, but still true.

The scenario I am about to summarize happens often enough for all to be familiar with. Actually I am fairly certain, even while on my holiday from bar social activity on the weekends, that this now overly cliché scene plays out every weekend single males and females go out. Girl meets boy in bar. Girl and boy exchange first and LAST names (this is vital, otherwise it makes for a very frustrating Saturday morning ). Girl and boy presumably hit it off and also exchange phone numbers. Girl and boy part ways and immediately run home to their computers to find out as much information about the other as humanly possible within a reasonable period of time during their Saturday morning hangover routine of eating cold pizza from the night before and perusing Facebook to see what everyone was up to the night before.

This behavior is similar to that of our generation condoning binge drinking. Is it acceptable? Yes. Is it moral or normal? Probably not, but I’ll go ahead and help myself to the 1,287 tagged “Public” photos since no one can see what I am doing. There are hundreds of reasons that distinguished psychologists and jaded potential new lovers, now called “stalkers”, could give to explain why this behavior is unsuccessful in getting to know a new love interest and usually results in failure, but I’ll only cover what I have personally witnessed and deem most significant.

1. Gathering up any and all information regarding the cute boy in the backwards hat from the night before is obsessive and so socially out of order and context. Relationships need to blossom on their own and at their own pace. One needs to find out information from their potential new suitor straight from the source, not from Facebook. When you immediately run home and indulge in the public photos, profile and wall posts, you are creating an image of a person you don’t yet know. The photo viewing will result in jealousy. It will result in you questioning who the blonde bimbo with the bad roots is in his most recent tagged photo and set yourself up to be immediately distrustful and jealous of a person you don’t yet know. (P.S. how stupid do you feel when you find out it’s his cousin?) Moreover, coincidently showing up at a bar or event that said potential new lover has listed as an “event” is not coincidental. It’s creepy and stalker-ish, and he’ll notice. Society is only willing to turn the blind eye to stalking when it’s not done in real life, but at home from behind your computer.

2. Scrolling through all past wall posts from his “friends”, Facebook history and photographs is pathetic in and of itself. But you will create a history of this person, as you already created their image, that is likely not entirely accurate. You will see and know exactly who is ex girlfriend is. Then proceed to give this same girl the stink eye when you are out, whom by the way doesn’t know you nor give a shit about who you are or how in depth your conversation with her ex-boyfriend from 2 years ago was. Jenna Marbles said it best: when you walk into the bar and see ex-girlfriend, “step one, ask yourself, does she have my boyfriend's dick in her mouth? If yes, continue to be mad, if no calm the fuck down.” (sorry for the crudeness, but her verbosity is hilarious.)

3. Blowing up the wall of a person you just met/could want to have a relationship with will surely end whatever casual acquaintance you previously had before the wall-rape. While you may be doing this for a plethora of reasons (i.e. make ex girlfriend or any other girl he met that night jealous, etc.) those reasons are never empathized. Potential new lover will never return your wall post, phone call or email and may de-friend you.

4. Furthermore, friend-ing potential new love immediately after meeting them and/or with a twenty four hour period of doing same, looks needy, obsessive and quite frankly, you are already off to a wrong start of the marathon that is a relationship. I don’t think I need to comment further as to why.

Have I done all of the above? Mostly. Have we all done all of the above? Probably. And while our society does accept this behavior, past precedent shows me that these stalker-ish actions don’t work. Current relationship status only further proves that doing the opposite of the above mentioned social networking relationship don’ts does work. Fiancé and I knew next to nothing of each other prior to dating and continued to let our relationship grow from there. No Facebook background information investigated. Fiancé no longer has Facebook. And I, well I need to keep my account active for blog research reasons only ;-)

Wednesday, November 2, 2011

Self Obsessed Self Portraits


There has been a lull in my blog posts recently due to many factors. First and foremost October was a month preoccupied with my birthday, baby shower, engagement and wedding plans. All of which leave little time for idle hands. However, I blame the lull in postings mainly on my lack of content. I am no longer going out, perusing men and observing the drunken sights of comedy produced by men and women dragging themselves along Carson Street in a stupor. I no longer endure awful dates for the sole purpose of sharing them with the world the following day. The days of asking myself “are you seriously going to date him just because he’s cute and ignore the fact that he’s a womanizer?” are long gone. So while I continue to produce short works of fiction and pursue my writing aspirations via other venues, I have writer’s block when it comes to this blog and what was once such a great creative and personal outlet for me and my frustrations with dating in today’s society. As such, I have outsourced my problem and have been presented with several post-worthy blog topics.

Most noteably, a friend of mine voiced his frustrations regarding today’s “women” and their self portraits. I use the term women loosely and in quotes as such that I don’t believe calling the women I am referring to narcissistic floozies to be appropriate. Ladies, if you are in your mid twenties or above and taking self portraits of yourself in mirrors or reverse camera phone, I am thinking narcissist floozy in my head. Furthermore, I fully recommend getting your head out of your own ass and immediately checking yourself in with reality.

While I will admit with the advent of facebook and my discovery of bars and all that goes with the stereotypical coming of age college student trends, I undoubtedly committed this same offense at one time or another. But that was then and this is now.

I do not know how or why a rational twenty something woman would ever want to put herself out there for this sort of critique. Why are you doing this? STOP. You look silly! I understand that everyone wants that perfect default profile pic, but taking a picture of yourself at work in the bathroom mirror or all slobbed up while out on a Saturday night with a stall behind you in plain sight is taking things a bit too far. Taking a photo of your growing belly in a mirror? Ok. Taking a photo of your growing cleavage and diminishing hemline? Not ok.

I have to ask three important questions. First, do girls think these pictures make them look good? If the answer is in the affirmative, what leads one to believe that? Your low cut blouse, your perfect pout or the bathroom attendant at the right hand side of the photo gawking at you? Second, do you think others find this attractive? (i.e. will men see your updated profile picture and drop pant at their computer desk?) I already know the answer to the latter is no. This desperate sort of self promotion, exaggerated by such captions as, “OMG, no makeup!” is irritating, awkward and gives me severe second hand embarrassment. And I am sure I am not alone in my response. Any idiot knows that one would not post an unflattering photo of themselves online for the world to see. Please don’t assume your facebook friends are stupid, that too is offensive. Lastly, do you believe yourself to be a model? If yes, please immediately stop reading this and grab the closest Merriam Webster dictionary. Shockingly, next to the word model, there is a not a self portrait of you. But the definition of someone who gets paid to have others photograph them. Not someone who is paid with compliments by frenemies.

So if not for others, since others are clearly not appreciative of your photography skills and photoshopping abilities, who is this for? If you look good in plain sight, I am positive you will look good without the glare of a mirror. Stop being so self obsessed and wait to be tagged in a photo you look good in like the rest of us do. Don't stage a "candid" photo in the mirror. There is no such thing!

"What then?" you ask. Nothing. Just a gripe I have with society, hoping that one of these women will read this blog and put their camera phone down.

Friday, September 16, 2011

Five Things to Turn Him Off


After recently documenting the guy’s girl phenomenon, I became aware of another equally annoying fad: women who attempt to behave as ill-mannered reality stars and celebs that are famous for no reason. However, this trend is sure to drive men away.

There is a fine line between subtly changing certain habits that may irritate the opposite sex and changing who you are as a whole to make someone like you, specifically when those changes are for the worst. As such, here are a list of five moves (as seen on TV) that will positively turn him off.

1. Speaking like Cher from Clueless (or any other clueless adult woman): Paris Hilton was so 2004. Grow up. As her English grammar dies, so too does her fame. I am unsure why women find it cute to dumb down and baby talk. I am questioning even baby talking to my actual baby, let alone speaking to another human being whose IQ is greater than zero like that. While men do enjoy women who act like their mother, they want you to act as their mother did when they were 20. Making them dinner, cleaning up after them and catering to them in every way possible. Not their mother when they were 2, ew-ing and aw-ing at their sweet little boy.

Studies have shown that girls advance faster than boys and as such, achieve higher grades throughout their education. Why revert back once we have graduated? Please, for the sake of all womanity, stop.

2. Talking incessantly about others: If you cannot come up with a more interesting topic of conversation than how you heard Sarah used to cheat on her ex, ex boyfriend, you are boring. Plain and simple. The incessant need to speak negatively about others (be it friends or enemies) just makes you look insecure. And more importantly, your boyfriend or potential boyfriend doesn’t give a shit. Not only will he be annoyed at the constant gossip spewing out of your mouth, he will begin to question your character.

3. Emasculating him: This obviously need not apply if you are dating a metro sexual . However, discussing Gossip Girl with him and making him shop with you against his will is not going to make him love you more. It’s going to make him push you away. He knows you’re a woman, the boobs were a bit of a giveaway, now don’t rub it in your face. But he’s a man, and he’d like to keep it that way otherwise he’d probably be involved in something other than a heterosexual relationship. A little mystery is good for a relationship, no need to include him on every part of your womanly life. Do you really want him to know when you’re going number 2? No, I didn’t think so. Your boyfriend is not your personal shopper, he is not an accessory. Get yourself a miniature poodle if you feel the need for womanly companionship.

4. Getting slam-hammered slopped up: Most men would agree that they love a woman who can throw back a beer or two with her man. However, this does not mean keeping up with a man in a drinking environment. Finishing a case may equate a good time for him, but it will inevitably end in a hospital visit for you. There is a vast difference between your man enjoying you getting tipsy and becoming a little affection than getting drunk and becoming irrational and/or just plain slutty.

5. Bad manicures: Maybe these just piss me off, and not so much men. But trashy long white tips are just that- trash. I will admit that I succumbed to this awful fetish of the nail back in the day, but I have come to my senses. These white long tips do not state “polished French manicure,” but Snookie and unpolished Jersey whores. Equally as bad are chipped polished nails. Your attempt to paint your nails is noted, however, you now look like a five year old. No man wants his woman gently stroking his arm with cracked neon pink polish, or any other body part at that. My brother once told me, “first I look at the girl, then I look at her girls. If the polish doesn’t stick, neither do I.”

Friday, September 9, 2011

Old Habits Die Hard - Old Boyfriends Die Harder


That’s the best revenge of all: happiness. Nothing drives people crazier than seeing someone have a good fucking life. -Chuck Palahniuk

There is a transitional period when one goes from being somewhat single and texting/talking with an ex-boyfriend/girlfriend out of boredom and/or convenience to being in a new relationship and only talking/texting to new boyfriend/girlfriend. You know what I’m talking about. You and your new soul mate will be lying in bed cuddling when your cell phone vibrates at 1 am and panic suddenly hits, “which of my previous lovers does not yet know I am in a relationship?” you think to yourself. When you should really be asking, "which of my previous lovers recently found out I am in a new relationship?"

It seems to be the norm (at least for me and many others I know) to have ex-lovers come out of the wood work as soon as they find out I'm happy. And the only question I can ask is, why? A normal, rational human being would think "hey, it's probably time to move on," when seeing their ex is in a happy, loving relationship. I mean posting "in a relationship" on Facebook, moving in together, and/or having a baby together should pretty much solidify that said person has moved on and it’s time for the ex to do the same. So why is it, as soon as ex finds out you are happy does ex start pursuing in a way they never had even when you were single?

We all know, it’s all about “the chase.” But what I don’t understand is what makes ex-boyfriend/girlfriend think that you will be all too happy to drop new perfect lover, just because they send you flowers, or for the lazier and more prevalent display of lost love, call and say they miss you? What has changed about you that has made them change the way Ex feels about you, other than seeing or hearing you are happy with someone else?

The answer is nothing. Nothing has changed except that you are happy and said Ex is not. Therefore, Ex will re-run all of the happy times in their head. That time you had a picnic in the park, the time they surprised you with a candlelit dinner or the first time they said “I love you.” What they will not re-run in their head are the bad times. The time you drove home in silence after fighting during that picnic in the part, the time they prepared a candlelit dinner to make up for not calling you for a week straight or the time they said “I love you,” to prove same after cheating on you. I don’t feel bad for Ex and nor should you. You realized things were over and now they too need to open their eyes. They are masochists and even more so narcissuses.

And it seems, the more one tells ex-boyfriend/girlfriend they have moved on, the more they persist. Like it’s unheard of that you don’t want to hear what they have to say. What ex-boyfriend/girlfriend needs to realize is that a- it’s annoying and b-things with new boyfriend/girlfriend are going so well because they are all the things ex never was.

So what can one do? Ex is trying to sabotage your new relationship and new perfect boyfriend/girlfriend is decently and expectedly annoyed at the relentless vibrating phone. You could change your number I presume, however, that seems a bit drastic. My advice would be to ride it out. One day, sooner rather than later, Ex will realize you have moved on and all the harassing won’t change that. They’ll see you from across the room one day, paying no attention to their presence and realize you’re happy. They will undoubtedly continue to stalk you and your Facebook photos like some sick drug addiction, critiquing and dissecting new lover, all the while baring a knife in the heart at the sight of each kissing photo, but eventually, they’ll find a one nighter, or hopefully something more and move the hell on. All I know is whatever you do to get over me, just don’t call me.

Monday, August 22, 2011

I Once Went On a Date With a Guy Who....


1. was an admitted sex addict (I found this out after the fact)
2. cried when I wouldn't allow him to sleep over
3. cried for no reason at all while walking home from a date
4. was a drug dealer
5. was a drugg addict
6. talked jokingly about being gay non-stop
7. told me it was ok that he had a girlfriend because we hadn't figured out what our status was going to be
8. had a fiance that he lived with
9. was a male model who talked about his "jobs" the entire time. You can not call yourself a model when you pay photographers to photograph you...
10. broke up with me on a post-it (yes, that ACTUALLY happened to me and is not just a Sex and the City episode)
11. was a professional athlete
12. told me that his purpose in life was to spread his seed
13. said it was ok that he wasn't faithful to women because he was in the military and our country owed it to him
14. called me fat and proceeded to nonstop call and ask why I left our date early
15. I worked with. Obviously forcing me to quit when things didn't work out...

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

Myths of Pregnancy


As mentioned, I know not many of my readers are in a position to care or consider what it is like to be pregnant. However, I am writing this because, at some point, you will care and consider the following. And maybe with a little advice and forwarning, you will not be as surpirsed as I was:

Myth: YOU ARE GLOWING!
Fact: As happy and glowing as I feel on the inside about my precious peanut, I am not glowing. I am actually paler than a ghost because I have not seen the sun or a tanning bed in months. Coincidently, I recently had a spray tan out of desperation and was told how beautiful I look while pregnant. No, actually it's this shade of orange that is accenting my stretching skin so swell.

Myth: Mood swings are controllable and pregnancy is the excuse women use for acting irrational.
Fact: Mood swings are an awful disease I wish I was not infected with. I was one of those women who criticized raging bitches for making up excuses. Now, I am just a hypocrit.

Myth: Everyone talks about and cares about your pregnancy.
Fact: No one cares you are pregnant. I realized this as I make it a point to tell everyone, even complete strangers that I am pregnant. I am pretty sure the cashier at Macy's just wanted me to sign my damn receipt instead of hearing about my growing belly.

Myth: No one cares that you are pregnant.
Fact: Everyone is talking about you being pregnant. In fact, you are the sun in the milky way of gossip. Just accept that you are going to be talked about behind your back (both positively and negatively) and enjoy your 9 months of fame.

Myth: Morning sickness occurs in the morning.
Fact: Morning sickness occurs morning, noon and night if you are unlucky.

Myth: You can maintain a normal life not revolving around baby while pregnant.
Fact: This might be just me, but the only things I care to discuss with friends and strangers is baby and boyfriend. Quite frankly, I am so excited that I don't care if others are annoyed. Don't talk to me if you don't want to hear about it.

Myth: Moms-to-be are eating for two.
Fact: You are not eating for two – now put down that tub of ice cream. You are only suppose to consume 300 more calories than a normal diet. You do not want to be asked, "when is your baby due," when the little pea is 10 months old.

Myth: Women lose their sex drive when pregnant.
Fact: This is so outrageously false that I don't have the time nor focus to discuss. Enjoy.

The Lion, the Bit*h and the Baby?


Recently, I have been asked by friends and family, “what now?” While that answer remains limitlessly complicated in terms of my growing family, thankfully those asking are usually referring to my blog content or lack thereof these days.

I briefly considered the idea of writing a maternity blog- as suggested by some. However, I recognize that might be boring for the majority of my readers, with the exception of my family and the few expectant mothers I know my age. Secondly and more relevantly, what the fuck do I know about being a mother? I’m a first timer and my precious love child has not yet arrived. Hell, I’ve never even babysat or changed a diaper! But fear not for my child – my mother said parenting will come naturally when the baby arrives.

Others have suggested I write about sex and relationships of an expectant mother. But, not only would that be too personal for me to write about, it would be offensive and a bit gross- a 34F chest size is sloppy, not sexy. I’m well aware of the fact that no one wants to hear about what it is like to be pregnant and horny/happy/moody/mopey/gasey etc. I will let you experience the joys of pregnancy for yourselves when the time comes.

Lastly, another friend mentioned that I should probably take a brief hiatus from the sex blog while pregnant, as such that it’s taboo and my tone and general attitude have changed. He explained that my honest and sarcastic outlook on life was what he liked most about my blog. At first, I agreed with him and decided to focus on my first passion, short story fiction writing, until I was no longer growing another human being in my belly. In a way my friend was right, my personal feelings on life and love have changed. But as I told my grandmother when she asked if my stilettos were too high to wear while pregnant, I responded, “just because I’m pregnant, doesn’t mean I’m not still me.”

So while I have simultaneously been knocked off my feet in love and knocked up, I still believe that most men and women are idiots. I still observe sleaze ball men in my day to day life. I still have to listen to women who love and/or complain about those men. I still get offensively hit on, and I still have highly entertaining friends in and out of relationships that I get to watch and listen to with love and disgust.

So I’m going to continue blogging. Thank god for my friends whose sex and love lives give me endless content (I hope that’s alright). And with the exception of Myths Of Pregnancy that I have discovered and deem appropriate to inform readers of so they are not caught off guard as I was, I promise to keep the baby talk to a minimum. Now back to sex, love and relationships... LOOK LITTLE BABE- MOM WAS COOOl!

Thursday, June 23, 2011

Mum's the Word


So I recognize that some of my readers may have clicked on this blog post expecting some type of hush-hush love affair relationship story or the dos and donts of lying to a a bf/gf (hint: there are none). And I hate to disappoint, but...

While "mum's the word" is by definition an instruction to keep quiet or say nothing, it is now no longer a secret that my boyfriend and I are happily expecting a baby this January :) So mum is definitly the word.

Wednesday, June 8, 2011

When I Was 23....


It seems to be the all the craze right now to blog what you were doing at the awkward age of 23. Reminiscent of the Vintage Polaroid Photoshop effect circulating Facebook, “What I Was Doing When I was 23” is topic trending popular blogs and websites everywhere. Whereas I refuse to give into the counterfeit retro photo fad because this is not 1970 (no matter how much we want it to be in our oversized sunglasses and frayed hippie satchels), I will give in to writing what I was doing when I was 23 as such that while only 2 years have passed, it feels like the same decades of distance from the real discolored Kodak Polaroids.

Twenty three is that awkward in between stage just after college where most young adults are trying to figure out who they were, who they are and who they want to be. It feels somewhat like middle school, when you know you’re too old to play with toys, but you’re not quite ready for boys. As with most stages in life, some never grow out of the funk and are trapped in limbo forever. You know, that dorky middle aged coworker who finds it appropriate to use the word "awesome" when trying to relate to you, the youngest person in the office. And since I am mature enough to recognize these individuals, I will assume I’m getting over what I was doing when I was 23….

I thought I wanted to climb the corporate ladder like the rest of my female friends from college.

I realized I don’t have to live up to society’s expectations of a 2k female.

I went out every night of the week. But considered myself an adult because it was “happy hour” and I didn’t call off the next day.

I realized being hung over at work made me hate my job.

I was still dressing in clothes from the junior’s department.

I realized if I ever want to be taken serious as an adult, I need to start dressing like one.

I still hung out with all my college friends.

I realized the difference between going out friends and true friends.

I moved to DC by myself and discovered what it meant to be on my own.

I realized I can be on my own and still live in the same city as my parents.

I got a DUI and thought my life was over.

I realized binge drinking is not acceptable after college and those who don’t grow out of it are called “alcoholics.”

I dated an engaged man and thought it was an adult relationship.

I realized inappropriate immature relationships exhibit the fact that I’m not an adult.

I went on trips every weekend and wondered why I didn’t have any money.

I realized I can’t live the life of a young adult living in a big city, going to lavish parties and buying designer bags as depicted in Hollywood films. Starting salaries barely allow you to pay rent.

I thought 25 was so far away and that by then I’d grow up and be married with kids.

I realized 25 is what you make of it. There is no set time line in life. Do things at your own pace and on your own time.

Tuesday, May 17, 2011

5 Things You Should Know Before You Consider Dating Me


1. I am grossly close with my mother. I tell my her everything. And it will get annoying. Hell, I get annoyed. Those times I experimented with hallucinogenics? She knows. That time you cried during sex? She knows. Your ex girlfriend that I hate? She'll hate her too. We'll talk 9 times a day on the phone but when I go over my parent's house on Sundays (which we will do EVERY Sunday), you'll want her in your corner when faced with my brothers and father. So embrace her. Embrace the annoyance. When we leave and my entire family is trash talking what you look like, what you were wearing and your job, she'll be the one rooting for you.

And just an FYI- heaven forbid something happens to my father and my mother is left alone, she's moving in with us. Problem? You know where the door is, so beat it.

2. I am not cool. Looking for a bar star babe that knows everyone and hangs out at the most happening club, yea she's not me. If I'm not working, writing, working out or getting wrecked, I'm at home reading or watching something educational. I genuinely don't know why this is. I guess I just like learning. About anything. I saw every new episode of Star Wars at midnight when they came out. I don't have cable. I would rather go to the Pink Floyd laser show then go out clubbing. I have an odd obsession with Egypt. My mind is filled with useless historical information. Obviously my reputation doesn't mean shit to me. I'm a nerd. I embrace it. And if we're dating, you should too. Don't try and change me.

3. I am flakey. I am actually the flakiest person I know. To the point that I annoy myself. But I can't help it. I change my mind at the drop of a hat. I will change my mind over and over and over again. Not just about what my favorite restaurant is or where I want to go tonight. But major life plans too. I went to college as a Biology major and left with a Creative Writing degree. I wanted to study abroad, then I moved home. I find something I really love or that I really want to do and I just become consumed by it. Until I get bored or find something better. It's just what I do. On the plus side, I'm obviously super spontaneous. So that's fun, right?

4. Without a doubt, an ex will come up during our relationship. This happens in every relationship right? Yes. But with me, it's worse. I have a habit of recycling. Alot. What can I say? I don't like starting from scratch with people. It's too tedious. One or two will unquestionably appear from thin air while we're dating causing us to argue. And it's typically do or die. Said ex will make me pick him or you. Embrace the other four quirks of my personality and you're sure to have a better chance.

5. Grand romantic gestures are for the movies, not for me. Not to sound like a knock off Carrie Bradshaw, but too much romance makes me sick to my stomach and frequently gives me second hand embarrassment. Obnoxious displays of flora sent to my office are not going to make me putty in your hands, but cold and extremely pissed off that you publicized our relationship. A nice, thoughtful post-it on my planner is acceptable.

I don't know if I'm too smart for all the mushy stuff or just jaded, but I don't like it. Though I blog about my failed relationships very publically, I like to keep my successful private life... well, private. To me a relationship is what two people have, not what others think you have. If you go out of your way to surprise me at home with dinner and jewelry, I'm going to think you did something wrong that I don't know about. Relationships should be easy and neither party should have to prove their affection. Putting up with the above flaws is romance enough for me :)


*** Inspired by an essay on Thought Catalog. While tone gets lost in translation via text, this is obviously to be taken lightly.

Wednesday, May 11, 2011

Why Are All the Pretty Ones Crazy?


Dean: In my experience, the prettier a girl is, the more nuts she is, which makes you insane.
Cindy: I like how you can compliment and insult somebody at the same time, in equal measure. ~Blue Valentine

Boy meets girl. Attractive girl appears to be shy, quiet and sane. Boy falls for girl. Girl and Boy become in a relationship. Girl keys boy's car for seemingly no reason at all. Boy calls girl crazy and still continues to date her. Girl and Boy break up and she is forever called crazy.

While discussing and dissecting women with a good male friend of mine, he referred to a potential prospect as attractive yet crazy. At that point in the conversation it dawned on me, most of his past lovers fall under that same category. Unfortunately, myself included. But why is that? Why does it seem that all the pretty ones are crazy? Or moreover, why do a lot of the pretty girls act crazy?

Generally speaking, most women I know have been called crazy at some point or another, warranted or not . And for the most part, this will make even a sane woman act insane. So for argument's sake, I am leaving those women out of this conversation and just discussing the tried and true crazy. Beautiful women who will publically flip out, key your car and stick their foot through your flat screen.

After some observation and discussion, I have only come up with two possible reasons that attractive women act this way, when they could so easily get more men if they didn't.

1. Because they can. It’s plain and simple. Pretty girls act crazy because they can. Because regardless of whether or not one man is going to be turned off by it and create a bad reputation for the girl in question, other men will still willingly date the crazy girl.

Why would someone want to act that way you ask? But I don't think it’s a question of why women want to act this way, but more so, why do they act this way.

With the exception of the ugly duckling transformed into swan after high school and the discovery of skin products and a flat iron, most attractive women have been attractive since puberty. Some even since birth. As such, these same women have been getting attention from most men since the ripe age of 13. Consequently, these attractive females have felt entitled, desired and in control since 13.

Age 13: Homework not done? Go to the biggest geek in the classroom and ask to copy his, he'll let you.

Age 15: Can't get your mom to drive you to the movies? Ask an upperclassman with a car to drive 45 minutes out of his way to pick you up.

Age 17: Speeding ticket? Flirt while showing a little shoulder to the cop and he's sure to let you off with a warning.

Age 19: Missed an English assignment in ENG 101? Talk to the male grad student instructor after class and he'll be sure to help you work something out.

Age 23: Late on a deadline at work? Talk to your male boss and he won't even act mildly disappointed.

And so goes the burden of beauty. How does being a con artist make a woman crazy you ask? Because they have been getting their way with men since birth. As soon as boy says no, or does something that girl does not like, she's going to lose her marbles. After years of never being told no, the woman in question does not know how to handle rejection. This is not how it works! She may think.

Does this make it right? Of course not. Is this justification for publically embarrassing you at dinner? Absolutely not. But you'll continue putting up with her crazy until you realize the lack of sanity trumps her beauty.

2. Which brings me to reason number two pretty girls act crazy. Men dating attractive women sometimes turn her insane for a variety of reasons. A good girlfriend of mine recently brought up a good point. When a couple is walking down the street and other men acknowledge that women's beauty, the man is proud and insecure at once. While this is more of a generalization from my personal experience, I'll say it, because what the hell, it's my blog. Men try to control attractive women more often than they do unattractive women.

Some men are so intimidated by an attractive woman, even if she's theirs, that they will be overly protective and or act out to prove they are the one to be desired. Men may or may not talk down to girl to prove their masculinity. They may or may not cheat which can drive any beautiful sane girl crazy. I found you in my bed with another woman, so I put my foot through your new flat screen? To me, that's not crazy, that's deserved. But I can see how the label develops.

While most pretty girls inevitably get their act together and realize that A) Life is not always going to go your way regardless of how perky your boobs are and B) Controlling cheating men don't deserve to see your self destruction; some attractive women never grow out of this. She's the girlfriend who gets jealous of her boyfriend's female co-worker, the wife who publically fights with her husband and the women who claim to not be crazy but spend their time obsessing over other used-to be crazy pretty girls.

So what does all this mean? Who knows? Just some observations from one used to be crazy girl. Men will continue to date the crazy pretty ones. Men will continue to call them crazy. But sometimes, the crazy pretty girl will grow up and realize none of it matters.

Monday, May 9, 2011

Sleeping With the Enemy


It's 3 am on a Saturday night and you didn’t find love in a dark corner of the bar. It’s 2 pm on a Sunday and you’re bored. It's 7 pm on a Tuesday and your latest relationship has fallen apart. Maybe you’ve been single so long and just need to feel the weight of another person’s body on top of yours. Maybe you are dating someone new, but aren’t ready to take it to the next level. No matter the day, time or situation, sex with an ex is never a good idea.

You never know when the urge will strike, but for some it always unavoidably does. One lonely Friday evening, for no apparent reason at all, you’ll find yourself anxiously waiting by your phone after sending the ever elusive “what are you doing?” text to your ex.

Never mind the fact that just two months ago you asked this same person to stay out of your life for good. That the break up was hard. That feelings were hurt and mean words were spoken. All of that emotional baggage goes out the window for the few minutes or hours that it takes for your ex to arrive, timid as they walk back into your life, and your bedroom.

The conversation is awkward at first. Two parties who have spent a significant amount of time apart, coming back together for supposedly one night only. Do you lead them straight into your bedroom, as your libido so desperately wants to? Or do you do the “lets watch a movie” routine so that the sex doesn’t feel quite so cheapened? Why does watching the first twenty minutes of Mr. and Mrs. Smith even make you feel less dirty?

What do you talk about? Months apart can feel like a lifetime. What have they been up to? How’s that new job going? Small talk ensues that is not at all reflective of the relationship you shared. You know this person’s first dog’s name, their favorite morning cereal and their work schedule by heart, yet the conversation is reminiscent of two strangers sitting on a bench.

“Yea, this weather has been so depressing. So much rain,” you say.

Eventually both parties give up trying to pretend. All the words have been said or screamed. Months ago. Instead, you simply ask if they want to lay down on the couch. And you do. High School all over again. Knots in your stomach as their hand grazes your body. Then it happens, that commencing kiss and it’s all downhill from there. Any and all hatred for this person is masked by fleeting passion and you forget how much you used to hate the way they bit your lower lip when you kissed.

Regardless of whether you stay on the couch or somehow wander to your bedroom, penetration occurs. And it’s exactly what you wanted, needed, just an hour ago when you sent that text. The awkwardness of your ex’s arrival is gone and it’s just like old times again. There is no timidness as there might be if sleeping with a new boyfriend for the first time, or worse, a one nighter. The sex is exactly as it was before. And if it’s not, you will wonder where they learned that new move and who they have been sleeping with that actually enjoys their fresh talent, or lack thereof.

Then it’s over, just as fast as it all began. An array of questions begins to cloud your mind. How long do I have to lay here and cuddle? Do they think they are spending the night? Is it inappropriate to kick them out now? Do they still love me? Do I still love them?

Sometimes you voice those questions and sometimes you let them linger in your mind for days after your tryst. But it never ends there. Both parties will agree that the other night was great and that maybe they can continue having a random rendezvous for as long as both parties need each other, for as long as both parties are single or for as long as both parties continue not caring that they’re cheating on their new significant others.

But in reality, both parties are not just sleeping with an ex. They’re sleeping with the enemy and forgetting all the reasons they didn't make it as a couple. Old problems and issues are still prevalent and while it may seem like a good idea every now and again, too many of these trysts dilute the new relationships they could have or do already have.

The arrangment falls apart again. One party meets someone new and one party gets jealous. There will be a second break up reminiscent of the first. One will be accused of using the other. But that’s what you signed up for, right?

You’ll tell them you never want to see them again. That is until 3 months later, when a new relationship doesn’t work out and the whole cycle will repeat. It’s just sex you reason, and it’s better than none at all. But, sex with an ex is never just sex. In the end, just buy a vibrator. Because if you’re fucking your ex, you’re only fucking yourself.

Thursday, April 28, 2011

A Number By Any Other Name Is Still Just A Number


There always comes a point in almost every relationship when two partners have "the talk." You never know when that pivotal conversation will pop up, but it almost always inevitably does. It may be on your first date (inappropriate), it may be on your 5th date (the we're really making an effort to get to know one another before we sleep together date), it may be when the two of you are walking hand in hand down the street and run into an attractive woman he knows and introduces as an old friend, or it may happen post-coital, when the two of you are cuddled up. You’re resting your head on his chest while drawing circles with your finger on his abs when your partner coyly says, "What’s your number?"

At this point in time, I'm making the assumption that your sex partner knows your phone number. So for those of you that for some reason or another have blissfully skipped this conversation in life, "your number" refers to the number of people you have slept with and it’s a very important number to know, or so says the majority of society.

With the exception of your sexual partner previously working in the porn industry and or the present possibility of an STD, THIS IS THE MOST IRRELEVANT CONVERSATION TWO PEOPLE CAN HAVE. There I said it. I may have offended some, but there are several observations that have led me to this conclusion.

For starters, both parties lie. Generally speaking, men give a higher number. Personally, I would rather be with a guy who was not a huge man-whore in their past. And I would venture to guess that most women feel this way. But boys will be boys and the higher their number, the higher their gym cred? I’m sure the reasons for increasing the number of women men have slept with has much to do with their friends and appearing masculine to them. But, moreover, men lie to women about their number because the higher the number, the more experienced they assume they appear to be and further, the more attractive to women they will seem.

As if any self respecting woman is going to proudly say to her girlfriends, “My boyfriend is a dreamboat and has slept with over 50 women. You know he must really be good at what he does.” Um no, the fact that you have slept with that many women only makes me think that A.) you go through women so fast because they break up with you after feeling unsatisfied or B.) you are a pig with an outrageous number and there must be some underlying low self esteem issue that I really don’t feel like dealing with after I get up and get dressed.

Women also lie, but for the reverse reason. Most women I know decrease their number substantially. Again, I feel this is for two reasons. A.) they do have some underlying self esteem issue that they feel slutty for sleeping with the actual amount of people they have or B.) they want to appear virginal and innocent to their new bed mate, fulfilling the roles that have been set for them as “ladies.” However, men are not as dumb as I write them to be on this blog. I’m fairly certain that if you’re reverse cowgirl on a first date, the man is going to know this is not your first rodeo honey.

Both men and women typically want to know their partner’s number because they think that the number says something about the person they are lying next to. Unless the number is 1 or some extreme number in the opposite direction, such as 100, it doesn’t. Unless this conversation is coming up in high school, Toto, I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore. With an increase in age, so comes an increase in number. This is reasonable and if some people would like to blind themselves to this fact and play virgin, so be it. So you slept with ten people and not five, so what? Does that extra five bed mates make her a slut? Does it make him seem like he knows what he’s doing? I think not. NEWSFLASH: Men, just because you have slept with more women does not make you a better lover. Woman #1 can fake it just as well as Woman #10. And women, sleeping with more than your high school sweetheart does not make you a slut. Stop succumbing to society’s bullshit expectations.

The last and most awful misconception regarding the knowledge of your partner’s number is that most people believe that the more you know about the other person, the closer and more in love you are. Like if you know that your partner’s favorite cereal as a child was Fruity Pebbles, you are so much more in love than the couple that doesn’t. No, knowing morning sugar stats does not a relationship make. Sometimes things are better left unsaid. Like that time you had the wildest, most wonderful sex of your life with an ex girlfriend, yes I don’t want to hear about that either. From now on, assume your man’s ex was Jenna Jameson and move on from there.

Regardless of who you have been with before and who you may or may not be with after, it doesn’t matter. If you’re a bit on the slutty side, I’m going to know by knowing you, not by knowing your number. What matters is that you’re lying with me at that moment and whether or not I enjoyed it. A number is just a number and regardless of whether or not you’re lying, I am not naïve enough to believe that I am your first, but maybe one day I will want to be someone’s last.

Editor's Note: I have disengaged myself from this conversation, and I suggest you do the same. It more often than not ruins relationships.

Friday, April 15, 2011

Hot by Default


From any reader’s perspective, I think it’s safe to say that I like talking about relationships and sex (one would think those go hand in hand, but they don’t). I do think about the opposite sex often, but who doesn’t? Coincidently, I have always been this way. In high school, I always found an attractive boy in my proximity to occupy my time. Not coincidently, it was often the goth/punk/weird boys that I didn’t have the courage to tell my friends I thought were attractive.

This habit carried over to college and my roommates and I made a joke of it. Each of us had class “crushes”. Sometimes, the crush in question was not even attractive, but was hot by default in comparison to the other men in the classroom/lab/lecture hall. We would name them appropriately with the standard college adjective+first name formula. (Creepy Kyle, Asshole Aaron, etc) Or if we didn’t know their name, would still name them according to their locality.

During my sophomore year at Penn State, the whole notion of class crushes became substantial. Why Metaphysics seemed like a good course to sign up for is beyond me, but I inevitably got to lust over the cute boy that sat in front of me every Tuesday and Thursday at 9:45 a.m. Typically, this would not be the kind of class I would attend too often, but philosophy crush was a great motivator to get me there bright and early.

Unlike my other crushes, this was one was actually gorgeous. Friends would joke that they saw philosophy crush in the HUB, ask how our relationship was going and so on and so forth. We were stalking, I know. But it was fun, funny and something to occupy our time during the one hour of the day that we weren’t sleeping, eating, or partying. Eventually philosophy crush and I became friends, briefly lovers and to this day, he dates one of my good friends back from the years of stalking him.

Fast forward a few years and I still do this, to less of a stalking extent. I don’t know if I am over-sexed or just bored, but I always find the hottest guy in my proximity to study. This year there has been “bus crush.” The guy who rode the bus every morning with me, whom I occasionally saw around town. He’s realistically not that great, but I found his smile and small talk charming. On St. Patrick’s Day, I saw him hand in hand with another woman, so that ended that crush.

Which leads me to Ginger Gym. The hot red head at the gym that runs next to me every day at noon. As if I didn’t already find him super endearing, he has the same identical tattoo I have on my inner arm, on his calf.

So now, I lust day after day around lunchtime without a word. Gym etiquette is awkward and I don’t know how to get him to talk to me. Most people don’t want to be bothered while they are sweating like a pig. And I for one find it extremely difficult to look and act sexy when I am gasping for air and red raced.

I realize this all sounds pretty melodramatic, but there has obviously been a lull in my sex life that Ginger Gym is now replacing. And regardless if you want to admit it or not, most people do this subconsciously every day of their lives.

Thursday, April 14, 2011

Suave v. Rico Suave (Apostrophe Over the E)


Its girls’ night after a long week of late hours at the firm and I'm going out. Clearly I couldn’t make it one more day to Friday without an alcoholic beverage. It was that kind of week. I didn’t even bother to go home and change into “going out” clothes. I head straight to the bar from my office around 8 pm. It was the kind of night that I didn’t even bother to check out who was there and who was not when I walked in. I take a seat in the back corner of the bar and order a whiskey on the rocks. The bar tender smiles as he slides me my high ball and without a word turns for the front end of the bar as I wait for my girlfriends to arrive.

I am wearing my don’t-bother-me mask to ensure that no man, potential lover or friend, would interrupt my complacency with a stiff drink and my own thoughts as my only companion. Moments later, a mid-twenty-something male in a suit appears to my left. The top button of his mint green dress shirt is undone and his neck tie loosened. I presume he is also looking for a stiff drink after a hard day and hoping he recognizes that too is the ONLY thing I am interested in at the bar.

As soon as the bartender puts his rum and coke on the wooden bar, he turns to me and just smiles and stares. Oh Christ, I have a regular Rico Suave sitting next to me, I think to myself. For those of you living under a rock or whom have just not come in contact with this specimen, Rico Suave is a common nickname for douche bags who think that they are charming. In my first few years of college at Penn State, some girlfriends of mine would call me Rico Suave when my daytime charm school skills of seducing a man, turned into creepy sloppy stalking in my drunken stupor. Since, we started to call men who give us second hand embarrassment from their seduction skills, or lack thereof.

Women who fall for this act of seemingly subtle seduction are clearly misinformed or just plain blind. In my younger years, I may have fallen for this clean shaven creep. However, with time comes wisdom (most of the time). And my jaded judgmental soul can spot Rico even before he speaks. I had to kiss a few frogs before I came to recognize this prince incognito, but I am now a professional.

Rico stands next to my stool, posing and smiling from ear to ear. He is the kind of man so arrogant that he thinks a combination of his smile; outfit and inviting eyes will do the trick without even having to utter a word. His pose appears to be something he saw in a magazine. No, not GQ, but possibly the JC Penny catalog where a man is modeling yacht-wear. I’m fairly certain that no shopper of JC Penny owns a yacht and Rico’s demeanor is as fake as the model’s.

After I continue ignoring him for a few moments, knowing full well his body is completely turned in my direction, he bites his lip in a way that I am sure he thinks is attractive and introduces himself. I am nice enough and at least give him my real name. He then asks, “What do you do?”

“I’m a writer,” I respond. While legal writing is not necessarily the image that a stranger associates with “I’m a writer,” I have come to discover that that response usually fends off the majority of Ricos in the world. And so, it is my defense mechanism each time I am asked that riveting question by men at the bar. No metro sexual wants to be wrapped out with a writer since they are presumably complicated, or so says the stigma that comes from “I’m a writer.”

“I love Catcher in the Rye,” he says. “I wish I could be a financial writer. I’m in finance. Lots of room for upward mobility and growth in salary. I hate my boss, but it’ll be worth it when I’m boss in a few short years.”

“It was nice meeting you,” I say and get up from my stool. I see my girlfriends finally trickling in and I am saved by the bell. Rico looks at me dumbfounded as if to say, “What did I say?”

A lot of men have it all wrong. Your boring tidbits of information in regard to your salary are not going to make me panty drop in the dark corner of the bar, it’s going to make me drop you. And Catcher in the Rye? Really? I realize that every men’s magazine will tell you to feign interest in a girl’s career/conversation, put please put forth some effort before you name drop the only book you probably ever read, and it was mandatory in high school at that. I enjoy Holden Caulfield as much as the next person, but let’s brainstorm before speaking next time.

I actually feel a little bad after writing this. He’s just a guy looking for conversation at the bar. But rico suaves are by definition arrogant. If this was just the average Joe, I probably wouldn’t be so hard on him. Maybe I am jaded after being in contact with too many ricos. Maybe I am too into one particular rico to want to deal with any others. There are a multitude of maybes that probably form my attitude. But I’m going to be me. Take me or leave me or just leave me alone at the bar after a bad day!

But then he does it. he validates every stereotype I have ever created for Rico Suaves everywhere. He calls out “Amanda!” after me and asks what he said wrong.

I could have informed him that that is not my name. I could have informed him that he is not just a nice guy looking for conversation in proximity at the bar, but a run-of-the-mill Rico Suave looking to take me home after enough whiskey. But I don’t, experience has taught me that some uninformed younger girl will bed him that night and over time, she will learn what I have. Rico Suaves are not so suave.

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

The Guy's Girl


It’s a Monday night. NCAA Championship. Popular sports bars everywhere are packed. Friends and frenemies rooting for their favorite team fill my Facebook newsfeed. It could be any sport, but Monday, it’s basketball and the NCAA Championship. Elevated testosterone levels fill the bar so much that I get a contact high just by entering the front door. Everyone is decked out in their favorite team jersey.

Amidst the ocean of two tone colors, I can spot her instantly. I don’t necessarily spot her face, but I can hear her spewing out player stats she learned from the board game Trivia Pursuit. She used to be a rare breed, but lately it seems her class has reproduced. She’s one of the most annoying of my species- the guy’s girl.

Guy's girl is at the corner bar with a group of overly masculine men being overly expressive. The kind of girl that "filled out" a basketball bracket yet never wrote a damn word herself on it. Most likely, she took it home to her brothers and had them help her so that she looked like a knowledgeable sports fan. She's the chick that screams, "come on!" and flails her arms obnoxiously when a team messes up on an insignificant play. You're right "come on!" you're blocking my view of the hot bartender that makes sitting here, watching the most boring sport on earth, bearable.

I don't know it it's my keen eye alone or if others also recognize this kind of girl. I often think men are blind to it. They'll high five her when the team scores while I am staring at my empty glass, trying to get a bartenders attention during all the commotion. She'll again rattle off some trivia related to the player in question that even I have to roll my eyes at.

I am fully aware that there are a few select women who genuinely enjoy sports. However, this is not the majority. The guy's girl may be swearing and hollering in the bar that the referee needs glasses. But when no one is around to see her, you can bet your fucking bottom she is not watching ESPN while training at Level 1 on the elliptical, but E! Entertainment Television.

I am all for sporting events. I am basically all for any events that involve socializing and/or being able to smoke and drink during the day with no judgment. I will attend Pittsburgh sports events, watch the game at the bar in my black and yellow and tailgate as much as the next person. However, I will NOT act like I have any clue when I am talking about and/or watching.

I am also all for gay, lesbians, bis, etc. However, I like clear well defined roles and labels. Male/female, man/woman, masculine/feminine. Did I want to fit in with my brothers as a child? Yes. But that ended when G.I. Joe blew off my Barbie's head. Do I have some masculine qualities? Yes. But my acquired taste for Jack Daniels and playing Mario Cart when I was stoned in college doesn't really quantify me as uber macho.

Do men actually enjoy this kind of girl? Or am I the only one that can see through the testosterone filled smog? Is having a guy's girl as a girlfriend the ultimate goal? Spending Friday nights in eating KFC and chugging bud heavies while the game is on? If that’s the case, my boyfriend will NEVER be happy. Call me old fashioned, but I'd rather cater an event for my man and his friends than actually participate in it with them. In the past I assumed men liked it that way. I don't ask my man to get manicures and pedicures with me because if I wanted to date another woman, I would just go ahead and head straight for Gay Town. But maybe I was wrong in assuming.

As I sit at the bar, perusing Facebook on my phone out of boredom, I chuckle with disgust at the "Go Uconn!" posts from women who likely don't know what state the team is from. Hater? Maybe. But we all judge.

Thursday, March 31, 2011

The Art of Texting




Is it just me or does modern technology make dating very difficult? Between texting, bbm’ing, gchat, facebook, twitter and myspace (do people still use this?), the means to communicate with your potential new boyfriend or girlfriend are endless. Most would think the development of this technology is just a natural progression of our society’s incessant need to communicate with other humans at all hours of the day. Mass conglomerates are simply offering more menu items at the restaurant that is human interaction. But, if anyone is anything like me, I feel extremely overwhelmed and frustrated when presented with too many options. It’s like going to the Cheesecake Factory all over again, 39 menu pages are not necessary!

It’s hard enough trying to master the art of casual flirtation without seeming too forward or too virginal while my date stares at me from across the table, presumably judging. Yet, I then have to go home and decipher whether the “I had a great time….” text should remain unanswered until the morning, what I should say in response and what the fuck the“…..” means. I mean come on; I don’t have time for that sort of analysis at 9 am in my Friday morning meeting with clients.

It is not as though I, or anyone else, sits at home, in peril and worried when responding to a “what are you doing” text. However, everyone should realize that there is a fine line to instant chat at the beginning of a blossoming relationship. In some cases, the incessant communication or lackthereof can make or break a spark. I do not agree with this irrelevant and absurd custom. I am personally of the belief that if my dates would use only the telephone to talk to me when we’re not together, I’d be a much less annoyed and anxious woman. However, modern technology is a perpetual cock block and must be recognized.

After a brief Google search regarding “the art of texting,” I found a plethora of websites devoted to teaching singles how to text new potential mates appropriately. While I don’t believe that any of my readers would waste their time researching or reading such fodder, I decided to give you the overall synopsis of countless websites from my personal experience and information.

Good Experience:
I briefly met a handsome single at a football game. We did the usual introductions, discovered a little about one another at a tailgate and parted with a spark. He tracked down my number from a mutual friend and inevitably texted me that he had a great time meeting me, wanted to get to know me, but was going out of town for a few weeks. We kept in touch, texting only occasionally but talking on the phone nightly before bed. It was 3 weeks before the two of us were in the same state and made for a great way to get to know the other person. It is important to remember that while texting is nonstop communication, it is not a conversation.

Bad Experience:
This past fall, I again briefly met someone at a mutual friend’s cook out. It was the same; we did the usual introductions, discovered some shared interests and parted ways with a yearning for one another. I didn’t hear from him for two weeks. We went out and had a great time. Some days, he would text incessantly and others he would not call or text at all. I was confused as to why on Monday we would talk all day long. However, a text from Tuesday morning would remain unanswered until Saturday. While most people do not spend their days anxiously waiting by the phone, there is nothing louder or more irritating than a silent cell phone. The text rapport inevitably echoed our relationship. Too hot and then at times, too cold. Constant texting can cause confusion in a relationship when it suddenly stops, not to mention, get annoying when I’m on a date with someone else.

So is there an art to texting? Some happy medium for the perfect text relationship, as well as real relationship? I am sure there is. However, it’s bizarre that modern day singles put so much pressure on themselves to send the perfect witty response to their potential boyfriend or girlfriend. I am not suggesting that I don’t participate in this circus; I just also understand and appreciate why the crowd is laughing at the show.

So what is the art of texting? What is the key that unlocks all doors? I guess it’s a personal opinion. For me it would be seeing and speaking to the person I am newly dating only occasionally. While I do get those butterflies in my stomach each time I see a lover’s name appear on my phone and easily fall into the daily text pattern, I don’t want that to be the case. A little mystery is good for men and women.

And don’t even get me started on all the other modes of stalking and communication. Just be advised that writing on someone’s Facebook wall who you are casually hooking up with is NEVER a good idea.

Wednesday, March 30, 2011

The Music Man


One of my favorite aspects of dating, aside from having endless amounts of blog content, is the morning recap. Most twenty something men and women know what I am referring to. While the stories may have tamed since the college years, the basic concept remains the same. You or a friend go out with someone, go home or don’t go home with that person, then meet all of your close friends for brunch the next day to dish all the dirty details of your future spouse and/or future PFA recipient over a zesty Bloody Mary.

In college, reasonable questions from morning recap participants were “What’s he look like?” “Does he have a car on campus?” “Is he in a frat?” “Did you sleep with him?” “Where at?” “Is his roommate hot?” While these days the questions go, and usually in this order, “What does he do?” “Where is he from?” Does he have his own place?” “What kind of car does he drive?” “When was his last relationship?” “Does he a have a girlfriend?” (Well the last question is usually only asked in my circle of friends, and is typically only aimed at me.)

However, I somehow NEVER end up with answers to all of the above questions asked by my young professional friends. One friend recently brought this to my attention when I described a guy I had met to her. “What does he do?” She asked. There was a pause in dialogue before I responded, “I honestly have no idea. I didn’t ask.” My girlfriend laughed before explaining how every time I meet someone new and she asks their occupation, I can't give her even a fraction of an answer.

I left our conversation and started considering why I never know that detail of my dates and what, if any, morning recap answers regarding a potential suitor do I supply my friends with. After some thought, wine and the soulful sounds of Samuel Beam at home that night, I figured it out. Firstly, I never know what someone does for a living because I don’t ask that question, ever. Duh. Secondly, I don’t ask that question because I don’t believe that a person’s occupation says who they are as a person. For me, a job is what you do, not who you are. Upon meeting someone, I am more concerned with who they are so I can decipher if I even want to bother hearing any of the boring details later.

That night I realized that after meeting a new individual I could supply my friends with answers to the following questions: “What’s his name?” “Does he have a girlfriend?” “What type of music does he listen to?” “Does he/ has he smoked pot?” “Does he write and/or read?”

The above probably explains why I end up dating the caliber of men that I do. But more importantly, I realized that “What kind of music do you listen to?” tells a whole hell of a lot more about who a person is than “What do you do for a living?”

Since the type of music a man is into is obviously more important to me than whether he is an architect over an engineer, I realized that over the course of my ten years of dating, I have a key for the map to dating a variety of men:

1. Men who listen to country music

Pro: These men tend to be genuinely nice, down to earth, and affectionate. These types are not needy and tend to be satisfied with the simple things in life: music, hunting, finding a good woman and beer.

Con: Sometimes the satisfaction with just beer makes them alcoholics and/or uncaring hicks. I draw the line at redneck speech. But for the most part, good men to date.

2. Men who listen to classic/indie rock music

Pro: Most importantly, I listen to classic rock and will enjoy any date that involves classic/indie rock music. These types tend to be generally laid back and complacent in life. Typically they have other retro interests that also attract me. These men are not jealous and don’t like to argue.

Con: Their laid back attitude can sometimes be indifference. If you stay they don’t care, if they leave you don’t care. Sometimes this attitude carries over to their careers and these types may not have any drive.

3. Men who listen to death metal:

Pro: They have a marginal interest which makes them interesting. Most anger and aggression is taken out when jamming and head banging.

Con: Sometimes they're weird and dress as such. If I wanted to date someone who wears eye liner, I would just date a woman. Sudden outbursts of rage are also common.

4. Men who listen to rap music

Pro: These men tend to be confident and somewhat suave. They know who they are and how to get you. Most men that listen to rap music are romantics behind closed doors.

Con: They are crazy jealous and have matching tempers. Every man I have ever dated that listened to rap music not only annoyed me because I loathe rap, but also because of their incessant need to keep tabs on me. Incongruously, these men also tend to cheat more often than any other music listener.

5. Men who listen to pop music:

Pro: These men are typically agreeable individuals. They will give in to almost any reasonable request from their girl. Most seem to have peaceful nice personalities.

Con: They are corny. Any man who listens to California Girls is un-dateable in my book. I know I am being unreasonable, but it’s a deal breaker. For some its smokers, for me, its men who listen to girly pop stars in glitter.

6. Men who have no preference:
Con: There is no “pro,” there are only “cons.” These men are boring and unattractive to me. Saying they “listen to anything!” when asked my pivotal first date question is like saying you are a corpse. I would prefer these men say they listen to gospel over no preference because at least I know you have an opinion or a thought in your head. I am over these men and the conversation at that point in time and most women should be too.

While I already mentioned that I don't believe jobs describe who you are, I also don't believe music describes ALL you are. However, it does a hell of a lot better job in helping me figure out who someone is and definitly makes for a better conversation than some asshole (without a taste in the sounds that soundtrack life)going on and on about his job in finance.


(Editor’s note- these are all generalizations that I have come to know as fact after my own personal experience)

Tuesday, March 29, 2011

Karma Is Not a Bitch, It's the Asshole That Lives Above Me


A few years ago, I foolishly moved in with my boyfriend at the ripe age of 20. We were having a lot of problems at the time (i.e. he was cheating on me) and we both felt that living together would be a quick fix to our problems (i.e. I could keep a better watch on him). Obviously, this innovative living situation was doomed for failure and upon moving into our second home (a house turned into two apartments), this became evident to not only us, but our downstairs neighbors.

While I do not need/want to get into details regarding the six degrees of crazy that the two of us participated in, I will say that it involved throwing things, kicking things, screaming, crying and all in all being loud enough for my neighbors to still avoid me on the street four years later.

Fast forward four years and I am living on my own in a peaceful first floor apartment (it’s a house turned into two apartments). Upon move in, I had met the attractive 20-something male who lives above me. Hmm, I thought. This could be interesting. However, my dreams were shattered moments later when a bubbly blonde with a southern accent walked up behind him and introduced herself as his live in girlfriend.

That very night, I awoke from my deep slumber to what sounded like my brother’s restless leg syndrome. Pow, Pow, Pow, Pow, Pow, Pow, Pow. Over and over again at the speed of light for 1.5 minutes. Then nothing. While I never had to experience the disappointment of awkward rabbit sex, I knew in an instant that I was living beneath two bunny rabbits. I wasn’t terribly upset in that I knew these nightly animal noises would only interrupt my sleep for 1-3 minutes, at most, per night. I more so felt bad for the girlfriend who had to not only hear those horrible mating noises, but participate in making them as well. However, my compassion for the southern bell only lasted a mere five hours.

At 6 am, I was again awoken. “GET OUT OF FUCKING BED!” I jumped up out of my sleep and thought for a moment that I was being robbed. “WHERE THE FUCK IS MY TIE?” And I realized it was the attractive 20-something male who was clearly upset from the moment he woke up. The screaming continued back and forth between the two of them until male-crazy presumably went to work.

This routine of horrible humping at night and screaming in the morning continued since my first night/morning in my “peaceful” home. While my hatred for them continued to grow, so did my knowledge of their tumultuous relationship. Steve and Haeley moved to Pittsburgh from Buffalo. This is their first time living together. Steve is quite unhappy when his shirts are not ironed in the morning. Haeley does not work. Steve must think he is good at sex. Haeley still texts her ex boyfriend. And lastly they have each other’s names tattooed on their wrists.

I found out the latter detail late one evening when a male suitor and I heard pounding on my front door at 3 am. Apparently, the two were drunk and locked out of their apartment. Snow was falling hard outside and I being a little tipsy myself, was feeling overly empathetic for them and invited the unhappy couple in until they found another place to stay.

After two rounds of drinks, Steve finally acknowledged the elephant in the room. “You have to hate us,” he said.

I did not refute the statement and simply smiled. They went on to explain to Ex and I how they came to live in Pittsburgh and how much they love each other. Ex and I both nodded and smiled politely but never once said “it’s ok” to their apologies. Because frankly, it wasn’t ok. They left and while the manic depressive behavior of their relationship discontinued for two whole nights, the usual schedule resumed on day three.

While I knew I was experiencing two minotaurs* living above me by way of Karma for my bad behavior four years ago, God decided to make a joke regarding my mistress status on top of it.

Last Friday, I was thankfully an hour away from my apartment when I received a text from Steve at 1:45 a.m. “Are you out,” he asked. Thinking that the two were again locked out, I responded, “No, why?” To which I received a series of pathetic text messages.

“My girl is outta town. Let’s hang out.” “I’m looking to party.” “BTW you looked really great when I saw you the other day waiting for the bus.” “I’m sorry I’m really drunk.” “I didn’t mean to offend you.” And lastly, “Good talk.”

I couldn’t bring myself to respond out of utter disgust for him and the momentary drunkenness I was experiencing at the party I was at when I received his desperate attempts to make our two story house into Melrose Place. In the morning, I considered responding to him or to unknowing Haeley. However, I realized that any ramifications for his actions would only result in more disruption of my sleep by their fighting. For now, the embarrassment he will feel the next time he sees me entering or exiting my apartment is punishment enough.

I stare, even today, appalled at the texts. Not only do I advertise mistress on my forehead, but apparently crazy too. Karma is apparently funny, but not a bitch. It’s a 5’11 dark handsome nut job. Karma is actually the asshole that lives above me.



*Minotaurs reference my favorite essay that inspired me to write this post. Hilarious and definitly worth checking out: http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/min/733317143.html

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

The Elephant In the Room… Er… Cyberspace?


Facebook. Relationships. Ugh. I can’t be the only one annoyed. With the exception of those that actively participate in this grotesque public display of affection, I think it’s safe to say that everyone is bothered. I’m fairly certain that even people involved in relationships are offended by the “I’m laying next to you” wall posts. I get it, Boyfriend/Girlfriend love each other, Boyfriend/Girlfriend are physically with each other, they made that clear when Boyfriend/Girlfriend edited their profile stating that Boyfriend/Girlfriend is “In a relationship with ____.” But I don’t need to know when penetration is about to ensue. Really. I don’t.

Generally speaking, the world does not care that boyfriend/girlfriend is in the other room and boyfriend/girlfriend misses them. This is not normal. Not in any light. This is not the movie Pretty Woman. Boyfriend is not Richard Gere announcing to the world he loves Girlfriend and rescuing Girlfriend from the whorehouse she lives in. Grand romantic gestures are for the movies and not in any way shape or form appropriate for Facebook. No one cares how much Girlfriend “loves, loves, loves him!” Only Girlfriend’s scorned Ex does, whose heart breaks a little more each time Ex stalks her. I do not think these public displays of affection make Boyfriend/Girlfriend look like they are in a loving happy relationship. I think it makes Boyfriend/Girlfriend look annoying and insecure.

From my observations, there are two types of couples who participate in this awful custom. First, I am going to give a few people the benefit of the doubt by saying 10% of couples are actually in happy, loving relationships and genuinely can’t help their blissful outbursts of love and affection for their other half. By no means do I think this is normal nor am I any less annoyed, but who’s to say my cynicism is normal.

The second, and overwhelmingly larger portion of the percentage pie would be couples in dysfunctional and/or insecure relationships. These would be two people who don’t trust each other for one reason or another. Or, again giving these sorry couples the benefit of the doubt, people who don’t trust other people not to steal away their significant other. Women that are worried their boyfriend may be dating other women, even if they may not be. But these women are so insecure that they want coveting other women to know “I’m sitting next to the greatest guy in the world!”

Other types of over the top, loving Facebook relationships are men who are cheating, but want to ensure their girlfriend never even speculates the infidelity. In morning I wake up to “Babe, you’re the best girlfriend in the world” on my newsfeed. And I think to myself, “I’m sure she is because last night I saw you out dry humping a Coors Light girl at the Saloon just before going home to your unknowing live-in girlfriend.”

The worst type of Facebook couples, are those that break up and get back together weekly. These types need to save themselves the embarrassment and not show the entire world how fucked up and dysfunctional their relationship is! I imagine behind closed doors, these relationships resemble Sam and Ron from the classy show The Jersey Shore. This is not to say that I haven’t also been in that kind of relationship. However, I was just smart enough not to put myself on blast on Facebook.

It would be easy for an insecure person in one of the above mentioned relationships to assume that I am jealous or alone. However, that is not the case. I have been in good relationships. I just like to keep my affection private. As intimacy is defined as “the state of being intimate or : something of a personal or private nature.” Private being the key word here.

While I also realize people may not want to hear about my relationships (or lack thereof), those people simply don’t have to click on my blog. But I have to unwillingly see every aspect of these relationships on my newsfeed. The desperate attempts to make oneself look happy make me want to de-friend these couples, on Facebook, and in real life.

Why Elementary School Dating Is Better Than Whatever The Hell I Am Doing


People say we get smarter as we get older. But do we really? Well, yes we do continue on to higher education and our knowledge supposedly grows. Yet my knowledge of men seems to exceedingly decrease the older I get. That fact, combined with my cynicism, makes dating a lot like my relationship with long division in elementary school. Tedious, stressful and no matter how many different numbers I tried, the answer never met my expectation.

This notion got me thinking that maybe my knowledge of math was not so great back then, but my relationships were? I started thinking of all the ways “dating” first through fourth grade was somewhat similar to what I’m experiencing now and the ways in which it is far better than whatever the hell I am doing now…

1. In first grade, I “dated” Dom. He was the cutest boy in my class. Coincidently, he was also the most misbehaved boy in class. We ended up dating after he passed me a note that said, “I like you, do you like me? Circle Yes or No.” Shortly after circling “Yes”, he lifted up my dress in class and somehow blamed it on me. Not so coincidently, he was also the same boy that told me Santa Claus didn’t exist and explained, in detail, what sex was.

SIMILAR: Women often like bad boys who treat them poorly.
BETTER: He was very upfront about his feelings.

2. In second grade, I “dated” James. He was in 4th grade (go me!) and the lunchtime patrol who sat at the end of my table.

SIMILAR: Women more often than not date men that are convenient, geographically speaking.
BETTER: He was a man of power.

3. In third grade, I “dated” Bill. He sat in the back of Ms. Schwartz’s classroom with me. He wasn’t that great to look at, but he was far better than any of the other characters in my class. Plus he was smart and often did my homework for me because we both knew I was out of his league.

SIMILAR: Women settle for men that don’t meet their standards because they have no other options.
BETTER: He did nice things for me.

4. In fourth grade, I “dated” Dom, again. He grew more attractive the older we got and continued to do so through middle school. We ended up going steady for several years until I ditched him for his best friend in sixth grade when I realized Dom was still an asshole.

SIMILAR: Women often recycle men. We always think we can change men, but we can’t.
BETTER: He introduced me to his best friend who was sweet, loving and to this day one of my best friends.

The only downfall I really see to elementary school dating is that we have not yet hit puberty, thus we cannot yet have sex. But sex complicates things even further anyways, right? And I don’t think I would want to go back to middle school dating. At that time, we’re pushing for sexual maturity and between the pimples, periods and pre-pubescent boys, it was actually much more stressful than dating as an adult.

What Do You Want From Me?


"Why'd you call me today with nothing new to say? You pretend it's just hello, but you know what it does to me to see your number on the phone. Now tell me, what do you want? What do you want? What do you want from me?"

Of the many many men I have dated, hung out with, "talked to", lived with or just killed some time with, there were actually three or so serious relationships. And unfortunately for me, it seems as though these still unattached characters like to pop back in my life every time I seem to have forgotten about them.

Just this past December I was going along the holiday season with a new Beau. Things were going great. I liked him, he liked me. He was all the things past boyfriends were not. There was no ambiguity regarding his feelings about me. No pushing to let me in his life. He rolled out the red carpet for me and asked me in it. Things were just easy and I of course was ignorantly blissfully happy. So of course, one fine New Year’s Day, there he was. An ex. His face literally popped up on my phone while at my house with Beau.

For the first time in months of not thinking about him, I was forced to. Due to modern technology, his face and his name came flashing on my cell phone screen. However, modern technology also has its benefits and I chose to "Ignore" him. Thank you Blackberry for that therapeutic button. I felt liberated and continued to forget him for the remainder of Beau's visit.

However, just as soon as I turned the dead bolt on my door. I raced back to my phone and the inevitable texting war began with X. He said he just wanted to see how I was doing. That he missed me. That he just wanted to go to dinner to "talk."

That's how it always begins right? Innocent enough? But why? What do you want from me? I was fairly certain X and I had run dry of things to talk about. Apparently, the volatile ending of our relationship with curse words and tears was not hint enough to him that we had run out of appropriate things to "talk" about.

Fast forward almost two months and I am without Beau and in no man’s land with X. I am left without a guy who was all the things I wanted X to be. I’m in limbo with X, all the same problems that we had before still exist. Nothing has changed. I have not changed. He has not changed (though they always try to get you in the beginning by saying they have). So what I really want to say is WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME? Are you lonely? Go meet someone! Do you just want a bed mate for a night? Go to your local watering hole! I am positive that a one night stand with someone would be far less of a hassle than one night with me and the nine hundred and one questions, calls and emails you will get from me shortly after the sex haze is gone.

I at least recognize at this point in life that I do this to myself, as so many women do. But I really want to know is… why do men do it?

Cheating Punishment

This story is not made up or exaggerated. I actually find it hard to believe myself...

There is a man standing on the corner of Gallows Road and Leesburg Pike holding a sign stating "I cheated and this is my punishment." Apparently, his wife of three years caught him cheating and to prove how sorry he his, Michael must stand at the corner everyday this week during am rush hour traffic.

I always find those who cheat and ask for forgiveness borderline hilarious. If you really wanted to be faithful from the start, you would have. No one trips and accidentally falls on top of another naked....

Bottom line, don't cheat if you don't want to stand in 92 degree humidity on a major highway, sweating in a pantsuit.

Expensive Excess Baggage


In today’s economy people are universally cutting all unnecessary costs. Times are tough and money is tight for all individuals, as well as businesses. Moreover, even the mass conglomerates that own the skies must cut back as well. What was once a bring all you can standard, even the superfluous, for flight passengers has come to a screeching halt.

Not only are passengers being charged for their second, third, and fourth bag, but their first as well. Because of this, a reasonable, money saving passenger packs lightly and with caution. There is no need, nor room, for those ten pairs of designer jeans on a three day trip. Nor is there a need to drag along multiple bags as carryon luggage, making your flight and that of surrounding passengers, uncomfortable, bumpy, and cramped.

You may be thinking that this is an obvious observation that need not be mentioned. Money is scarce. People need to be more conscience of their decisions when packing and avoid being ultimately broke, right? Then why is this concept so hard to translate to relationships? Who wants excess baggage while taking a trip with someone on that pivotal first, second, and possibly third date? When the costs far outweigh the benefits, why are we willing to settle with another’s baggage?

We are no longer living in an era where baggage check is free. Nor do men and women marry their first boyfriend or girlfriend straight out of high school. With progress and time, we are presented with more options in life, as well as in life partners. Coincidently, men and women are choosier and more conscience of whom they marry. Because of this, one invariably racks up quite the number of ex boyfriends or girlfriends in the years it takes to find “the one”. During those years of jumping from one relationship to the next, men and women can’t let go of that last relationship until they are certain the next one is for keeps.

Instead of checking their baggage at the front gate, these persons want to take their past and carry it on flight with them. Men and women reason that this is less costly- being that they have relationship A if B doesn’t work out. On the other hand, this is costly for the other passengers on flight. Who wants to sit with someone with so much baggage? How much is too much? Is it fair to travel with any at all?

I, for one, find it selfish and annoying. I am one of those disgruntled third party passengers who is vieing for space on the elbow rest. Move your baggage, move over, or I'm moving on.....