Wednesday, March 28, 2012

How to Meet, Date, and Get Screwed Over By Your Bartender

I know lately that my blog posts have been someone on the more depressing side. I'm sorry. I don't intend them to be. I just start writing and whatever comes out is what comes out. This was just the latest post in a string of trying to clear my life of negative relationships, because every now and then I realize something is in a toxic relationship state, so I just let it go... so here is the latest casualty.

It'll start simple.
You'll walk up to the bar, typically when it's not a crazy Friday/Saturday night, but it might be.

He'll ask, "What'll it be."
You'll order your drink of the month, whether it's a buttery nipple, a rum and coke, or a Malibu and pineapple.
He'll smile, fix your drink, and then start up a conversation.

You'll flirt.
He'll flirt.
Sparks will be evident to everyone around you and at the end of the night when you close your tab, he'll write his phone number on your receipt, and you'll shoot him a text.

You'll go out.
He'll make you dinner.
You'll make him desert.
You'll visit him at work.
He'll visit you on your days off.
Before you know it, you have something. He'll send just the cutest text message ever or the raciest one ever, and somewhere during the year or so you've been seeing him, and somewhere between, "yeah he's nice" and "I don't think it's anything serious," and "he's just my bartender," you'll start to develop feelings.


When you start to develop those feelings, shit hits the fan.

You'll text him more.
He'll back off.
You'll try to see him more.
He'll blow you off.
And somewhere in between the feelings of rejection and crushdom, you'll find out you're not the only one.

How could you be?
He's a bartender. He gets girls throwing themselves at him every day for free drinks and for a little extra special attention.
Sure you'll ask the other bartenders what the deal is, and they'll protect their brethren to the last lie slipping off their tongue about how he's single and only seeing you, but his roommate - wont.

He'll show you the pictures he took of the two of them at the caps game or at the birthday party. He'll make plans with you at a bar he knows they're going to that night, and you'll meet up, and you'll see - your bartender making googly eyes across the table with some girl whose chin is so large you could land a learjet on it.

Then you'll know.
You'll know what you knew all along that it couldn't work.
That it wouldn't work.

But just because you know something in your gut all along doesn't make the hurt any less bearable. It doesn't make the pictures of flowers he sent her on his facebook any less bearable. Everything you wanted, you watch her have.
Everything you thought you had, you watch her have.

You'll feel used.
You'll feel dejected.
You'll feel like something someone once dumped in the gutter and then walked away as you slipped into the drain.

And after the cookies and the icecream, you'll set a resolve to move past it.
You'll block his number, because his texts are too persuasive to resist and you know what happens if you don't resist - more hurt, more pain.

You'll think about unblocking it.


Remember that hurt. Because if you resist growing and moving past what you used to have, then you'll fall into the continuous cycle of accepting being cheated on and being the other woman at the exact same time.

So instead, as you watch her take your place, slowly, as though you were just a faded memory, remember that you're better than that. It's better to be your own person with someone who treats you like you deserve.

It's better to be just somebody that he used to know.
It's better that he be just somebody that you used to know.

"Now and then I think of all the times you screwed me over.
But had me believing it was always something that I'd done"


Monday, March 26, 2012

Cooking for One? Try Fresh Diet

aka, "Count Phone Numbers, Not Calories"

After another crazy weekend of drinking and carousing, the LAST thing I want to do is come home on Sunday or any day for that matter and make dinner... for one.

Don't get me wrong. I LOVE cooking. There is nothing better than coming home at the end of the day walking into your significant other's arms and sharing a great meal that you've made together.

But, I dont seem to have one of those right now, and since I dont really have any takers aside from Kenny the sloppy drunk fest that asked me to marry him about five minutes after I met him on Saturday night over at the Front Page, I don't really see my dream scenario happening anytime soon.


There is a solution.

That's right, you heard me.

See that food over there. Doesn't it look a-fucking-mazing? Best part about it - No cooking, no calorie counting, and no clean up.

Oh wait, that wasn't the best part.

The Fresh Diet delivers 3 fresh, healthy, calorie-controled meals and 2 snacks daily straight to your door. In fact, you could lose 10 pounds your first month.

Who doesn't want to lose a few LBs to help boost your self-confidence in order to help your potentials see how smoking hot you really are?

 Recently since I've started on my back to me campaign of not dating guys I don't already know, my dating calendar has started to slip, while my hang out with friend's calendar continues to expand.

The idea of cooking for just little ole me every meal is actually driving me crazy.

A day in my culinary delights goes a little something like this...


9:00AM - Pop the thyroid pill, be pissed off I can't eat for an hour.
9:30AM - Look at clock, grumble about how hungry I am.
9:45AM - Sit on the couch ready for work, stare at my watch - impatiently tap fingers while the minutes seem to tick by slower and slower.
10:00AM - Realize that I'm going to be late for work. Grab whatever form of Eggo or PopTart is closest to me as I run out the door.
11:00AM - Begin to feel hungry again.
11:15AM - Look up recipes on the food network.
11:30AM - Look up recipes on epicurious.
11:45AM - Look up recipes on
11:55AM - Realize that none of those recipes are an option.
12:00PM - Ponder how good your lunch in the refrigerator is going to taste... typically left over lasagna, spaghetti, pesto, alfredo, diablo, scampi, pasta a la vodka. Saying I eat a lot of pasta would be an understatement. WHO WANTS TO EAT PASTA FOR 14 MEALS IN A WEEK?
3:00PM - Start to feel a bit peckish, dig in the desk for whatever form of halloween candy you left there from coming into work hungover.
3:05PM - Stare at the KitKat wrapper in your hand and wonder how you ate it without realizing it.
3:10PM - Still Hungry, Ponders how good paper would taste with a little bit of salt and pepper.
6:00PM - Rush Home Hungry. Open the refrigerator. Open the pantry. Open the cupbard. Open the freezer. Open the cabinets. Nothing to eat.
6:15PM - Open a box of pasta, because, "hey, it's there!"
6:20PM - Cook more pasta than I need, because, "hey! I'll have leftovers."

On the weekends I get a bit fancier, because I'm actually a pretty amazing cook, if I do say so myself. You can ask the majority of my ex-boyfriends, they'd probably agree. Except for the poor sap I poisoned with plastic-spoon-laced-gumbo. (Who knew gumbo melts plastic!?)

Seldom will my meals include vegetables if I'm cooking for one in a rush on a weekday. And my food would NEVER look this fucking good or actually be healthy for me if I'm cooking for just me, myself, and I.

But if someone else happened to cook it, like in a local state of the art kitchen... and it just so happened to appear on my doorstep and I didn't have to look at pasta for the next 8 weeks, who would I be to complain?

If it came with breakfast, lunch, dinner, and I didn't have to ponder what sort of snacks I could have with it... who would I be to complain?

 I wouldn't be able to, because are you looking at these meals?

I wouldn't have to try to stack 50 pasta pots into my dishwasher.

I wouldn't have to clean up the 50 spoons/forks/knives it took me to make my meals, because all I would need would be the utensils needed to eat it.

No longer will I have to hang my head in despair and agony because my waist line keeps growing at the same rate my wine bill does, because face it, cooking for one every single night can become a little bit depressing.

Instead I could use the time it took me to cook my pasta and use that to surf OkCupid or for some cute potentials. Or more likely I could use that valuable time to harass SexyFace or IrishEyes into loving me.

Curious about trying The Fresh Diet out?
Who wouldn't be?! It's gourmet, healthy, delectably-delicious food delivered to your door!
Check it out - You can receive 3 days free with the purchase of a 31 day plan at $29.99 per day. Just use the special discount code, singlmar29.

With all the time, energy, and calories I'd save using The Fresh Diet, I'd probably have a boyfriend by the end of Spring, for sure... right?

I can't be single forever... can I?

Tuesday, March 20, 2012

5 Common Texting Mistakes in Dating

I am all about the text messages. I've said it time and time again, if you want to contact me and get an answer in a reasonable amount of time. Text me. I love it. It's quick, nearly instantaneous and keeps a certain amount of pressure off both parties communicating.

With that being said, there are a lot of people out there in the dating-sphere who are doing it WRONG.

If they're sent to someone you want to date, texts should be fun, engaging, inquisitive, and always concise.

I could care less what you text your best friend Sally, but if you're looking to keep someone engaged in texting with you and talking with you and dating you, then you need to know that what you're texting could be jeopardizing your dating relationships. This is not a guide to texting your friends... this is a guide on how/how not to text people you're dating.

The following list of the Five Common Texting Mistakes in Dating are issues that I have seen time and time again, in my own dating life and in the dating lives of others. These aren't fairy tale mistakes, these are dating-trenches issues.

Hopefully you haven't done them, but if you have, now you know that you could be the one sabotaging your dating life.

1. Not Asking Questions 
If you're trying to engage someone in a little textual banter, then the quickest way to ensure that the person on the other end of the phone understands that you're interested in them and interested in the conversation, is to ask questions.

Keep in mind that this texting conversation is not a date. It's a supplement to the date that you have had or will have.

If you ask questions, most people read them and want to respond. And in most responses you will get a question asked back, and then you'll ask a question, and then they'll ask a question, etc...

This propagates the flow of conversation and you'll learn something about the person you're dating in the meanwhile.

2. Texting too Often/ Not Quitting While You're Ahead
This mistake goes hand in hand with mistake number 3. I can't tell you how many times I get someone who wants to text me every hour they're awake.

If I'm madly in love with you that's one thing, but if we're still in the fledgling stages of dating, I'm not interested in you texting me ever 20 minutes of the day. In fact, most of those texts that you're sending every 20 minutes are pointless, because there is only so many ways to tell you that I'm editing something. Or that I'm on lunch.

If we've been on three dates, I dont need to know that your lunch was delicious or that you have a piece of spinach caught in your teeth, ESPECIALLY THROUGH TEXT. Granted if you're dating long distance this might be relevant, but if I plan on seeing you for dinner tonight, I dont need to you regale me with your day as it's happening, because you can tell me at dinner.

I once met this guy on the internet who we're going to call PsychoPants, and he and I had a great online conversation, and we were planning to go out on a date, so I gave him my number.


Seriously. Within 48 hours of giving this guy my number, he had essentially texted me over 300 times. Only 1% of those texts had to deal with the date.

He fucking kamikazed the opportunity to date me, because he didn't quit while he was ahead.

Granted it was great for me, because I found out within 48 hours that I didn't want to get within 200 miles of this PsychoPants, because he'd probably never leave me alone, but had he texted me to set up the date and then stopped - we would have gone out. He would have had the opportunity to actually talk to me, instead of the barrage of textsanity that occurred.

And had he not texted me every 5 minutes for the next 4 weeks after I told him it wasn't going to work out, I wouldn't have given him the name PsychoPants.

Yes, this might be a really intense version of what I'm telling you is a mistake, but to him that was normal. To you texting every hour might be normal, or every time you sit down to eat food might be normal, or every time you go to the restroom.

I don't know, but I do know that texting too often is the quickest way to the dating chopping block because there's a fine balance between interest and clingy. Make sure you find out what it is, and STICK TO IT.

3. Texting Without a Purpose
Too often one of my friends will get a text from a guy, which says nothing. It'll say, "Ugh bored at work" or "Can't believe these metro delays."

Well that's nice, but how do you respond to that if you're neither bored at work or taking the metro. With a "yeah work sucks" or a "yeah the metro is always delayed?"

These texts without a purpose might also drive the person you're trying to woo crazy.

Let's assume that everyone is busy. Right?
Let's assume that the person you like is at work swamped with a shit ton to do.
Now let's assume that you keep sending these texts every one or two hours and then they feel obligated to respond, but because you're busy or waiting on the metro, you're more likely to respond back, then they feel obligated to respond back and then you text back, and then they don't.

Now you start to wonder... OMG... do they still like me? Why aren't they responding? Did something happen? Are they dead? Did they find someone else?

You might think I'm over-exaggerating, but I'm not. This will actually go through some people's minds.  And then you're sabotaging your blossoming relationship, because they're not responding, and it's freaking you out, but in truth you're the one that started a pointless texting conversation. See mistakes 4 and 5 to reiterate the fact that while texts are a great place for flirty banter, not using them to launch into something more is due to a lack of using technology to the best of it's abilities.

4. The Hi Text
I have discoursed on this topic before. If you are trying to get someone to be interested in seeing you on a romantic level or attempting to continue the romantic spark you know you have, then sending someone a text with


and nothing else, is as ANNOYING as a bad bartender.

A "Hi" text gives the recipient nothing to respond to, because they don't know the context. Are you saying, "hi," because you want to see them, or do you want to know what they're doing, or do you know that they posted a blog post about you?

It's unacceptable to just send a "Hi," because in a text a, "hi" means nothing.

Acceptable "hi" texts aren't made up of one word. If you're thinking about someone then tell them.

For example you could say, "Hey just wanted to see how you were doing after the st paddy's day craziness"

Or you could say, "Heya, I just ran across that little book store you were telling me about, you were right, really cute!"

Or you could say, "I just read the most remarkable article I think you would enjoy."

As long as it's poignant to the person receiving the text, you can say whatever you want, because while a "hi" text might say I'm thinking about you, a "I just found out that there's a new pizza place opening up that you would like, we should go" text says a whole lot more.

5. Not Using Texts as a Jumping Board
How many times have you stared into the screen of your $300+ phone, stroked it's shiny clean surface and said, "you look beautiful here in the moonlight."

NEVER. If you have you need some help.

You can't foster a dating relationship through texts. You can't. You can flirt and banter and make plans through texts, but if you spend more time texting your potential and less time staring into their gorgeous eyes, then you might be doing it wrong.

Texting is not the only part of dating, in fact it shouldn't even be in the top 5 parts of dating, unless you're in a long distance thingy. To properly experience dating you need to actually GO ON DATES.
Really a novel concept if you think about it.

Back in the 70s when my parents were dating, they didn't have text messages or instant messages or that weird voice messaging thing I can't remember the name of. They actually had to go and spend time together out in the world. Imagine not relying on social media and technology while dating.

So that's what you should do too. Not rely on technology as the major factor in your dating life, instead, you should use it as a nudge, so to speak. As in use technology to gain more dates.

As in,
"Hi, so I was just passing by the Corcoran and remembered that you really liked xyz, and they're having an exhibit this month, wanna go?"

Thursday, March 15, 2012

My Birthday Weekend

Aka, the weekend where I got some face time with SexyFace and passed up the opportunity for face time with IrishEyes, which I am sooo depressed about.

Aka, Shoot me in the face.

Aka, the continued self-sabotaging of my non-existent dating life.... because you have to actually go on dates to have a dating life don't you?

Aka the weekend where I write a blog post about how I might want to date SexyFace, if you couldn't figure that one out.

Aka, the weekend where Hh and I lost a drinking contest with a bartender, and I puked in his sink because Hh was already expelling into his toilet.


All jokes aside I actually had a pretty amazing birthday weekend.

Friday night had been planned for months... When I found out back in December that my birthday was going to be on a Friday, I immediately created a facebook event and invited the main peeps, and told them to block it off.

You see, I'm not a big, go out and do something extravagant for your birthday kind of person... I'm one of those people that like doing things with the people that matter the most to you in a setting you enjoy.

So after some Chipotle in Dupont, we hit up my favorite place to party - Rumors. There have been days where I have seriously considered getting a tattoo of their logo, with a note above it that says, "If Found Please Return to Rumors. They know me there."

For some of you Rumors might just be another bar, or a place to brunch, or that place with the drunk biddies that puked on your shoe in the bathroom at 2:30 a.m. a couple of years ago... (sorry for that).

For me, it's Cheers.

I like going places where people know my name... 
I like going places where I dont need to give the bartender my credit card when I first sit down... 
I like going places where the people know what I want, before I want it. 

So that's where I went for my birthday night, and man was it great, at least the parts I remember. There was potentially an hour or two that is completely erased from memory. 

The group got there really early, mainly because I wanted to chit chat with everyone before it got too loud to hear each other over the drone of 80s music. In fact, when we got there, all the tables were still out and the yelling and loud greetings coming from and to us when we walked in might have deterred some business. 

We clambered up to the Bartender Who Charges Too Much, because IrishEyes had a steady stream of people filling up his chairs, and SexyFace and I have a "He Likes Me"/"He Likes Me Not" kind of thing going for us, which we will explore later in this post.

Friends started to come in as the tables were cleared from the dance floor and the barstools slowly began to disperse. As friends were coming in, I sat down close to Ol' IrishEyes. We leaned across the bar and kissed each other on the cheek. Somehow our light and witty banter about how I was too young to actually be in the bar and he was too old to remember his name turned into this really intense conversation, which led to us staring into each other's eyes trying to empathize with each other, holding each other's hands and patting each other on the shoulder. 

I'm telling you people, IrishEyes is a good guy, when he's not making me do blow jobs on the bar. 

A Blow Job is a drink, people, come on! You drink it without your hands... Not gonna lie, I've always wanted to try to do it, so... 

I tried... 

And epically failed

We danced. We drank. I had an absolutely great time, because I really have some of the most amazing friends in the world, and I'm so glad they came out for my birthday.

But at some point in time people trickled out. And before I knew it, it was just me, Blair, and her BF standing down by SexyFace.. how I got from IrishEyes to SexyFace I can't remember. But I did. And I was there. 

After hearing about my birthday, SexyFace offered to give me a lift home as his gift to me, and I jumped on the opportunity, mainly because Blair and her BF had just left, and I couldn't remember whose apartment I was supposed to be crashing at. 

What started as a routine car ride suddenly became a game of 20-questions from HIM. 

I'm normally pretty nonchalant about guys in my life, I don't hound them with questions or beg them to love me, I let them make up their own minds about what they want from me. Usually it's nothing, but after chit-chatting and potentially overanalyzing the following conversation I wanted to know what you guys think...

When we got to the apartment SexyFace walked me to the door, and as soon as we got there he grabbed me around the waist and pulled me into a kiss, his fleece jacket rubbing against my chest. 
"So why isn't your boyfriend taking you home?"
"We've been over this, I dont have a boyfriend. Why are you not taking your girlfriend home?"
"Because I haven't had a girlfriend in a long time, I'm kind of a loner. I like being alone and not having someone tying me down, or I've liked that in the past, I dont know about now."
"I get that. I live by myself it's nice not having to answer to anybody, I guess."

"So, I'm really glad you let me give you a lift so that we could chat, because I'm gonna be real, I thought you didn't like me."
"Why would you think that?"
"I just, nevermind." 
"You sure?" I looked into his eyes trying to figure out what he was thinking. 
"I just thought you didn't like me."
"Well I've got to like something about you, if I'm letting you kiss me."

"I'm glad that we got to hang out a bit. It's good to see you."
"You too, I do like hanging out with you."
"I haven't brought anyone else out to my house since you were there in October."
"That long really?" 
"Yeah I mean, I'm a loner, you know. I don't really know who I'd bring out there."
"I have a hard time believing that, look at you!" 

He shyly tipped his head down, and I reached up and fiddled with the zipper on his jacket. He slowly wrapped his arms around me.
"I'm glad you invited me out here."
"You mean invited you to give a drunken girl a ride home?"
"Yeah, always."
He smiled his boyish grin and tucked his head again. As he reached for my hand, I touched his cheek before hitting his nose with mine, kind of like a goofy-ass-horse-nuzzle thing, all while I stood up on my tip toes to kiss him.

We kissed for awhile until it started to get late, and he went home, because he literally lives in the boonies, and he had to get home to take out the pup. 


I don't know what it means, or if it means anything, or if all these questions he asks is just him trying to have a conversation, but it's usually always the same conversation, so I've very confused.


No but seriously, I'm totally open to your interpretations. In fact I'd love some insight. 

So that was Friday night. 


Saturday, Hh and I had Jumbo Slice for the first time ever! (1) It was huge and (2), Man, was that greasy?! 

I also decided that I have a life goal. I want to open a bar. I'm going to call it "With the Cool Kids." So that when someone asks you where you're at, the correct answer will be, "With the Cool Kids."


But Sunday is when the fun really happened. 

Hh and I were staying on our course of bad food decisions. So of course we had scheduled brunch at Ben's Chili Bowl, mainly because she'd never been there, and because I love cheese fries. 

We ate, then went to hang out at the good ole American University for a few hours, which turned into her cooking us a delicious pot of chili back at her apartment, which turned into us trying to figure out what to do with our lives that evening. 

Of course a night of low-key drinking at The Front Page sounded like a great idea. 

Who knew Sunday night at the Page was movie night?! We sat at the bar with the lively and definitely adorable bartender, while he put in a movie, which the entire bar watched together (seriously, what?!). 

Our low-key evening slowly began to morph as we became more and more acquainted with this new bartender... what was supposed to be low-key turned into a challenge. 

Challenge: We could not out drink the bartender, shot for shot.

When closing time came around, we waited for him to get off shift around 1:45AM. We all waltzed over to CVS, loaded up on snack food, soda, and he picked up some cigs, and then we headed to his place... for the drinking  competition. 

Between the three of us, the entire bottle of Jameson was DONE by 3:00AM. 

My guts were DONE at 3:05AM. 

Our new bartender homeboy and I were sitting in the living room, while Hh occupied the bathroom, but by 3:06AM, I couldn't hold it anymore. 

I waltzed over to the bathroom, and heard the tell-tale signs of it's ok to enter. I walked inside and proceeded to puke my ever loving guts out... in the sink. 

And because no bathroom puking party is complete with just two people, our new bartender homeboy joined us... I think he might have tried to plunger out the sink, but by the time the plunger came out, I was done puking and couldn't make any other logical thought except, SLEEP. 

I passed out on his couch - dead to the world. 



The next morning I woke up to a hangover sent straight from Hades. I threw my shoes on and Hh and I stumbled to her car and made it back to her apartment, where we both slept for another few hours then continued with our bad food decisions, by ordering up a Ledo's pizza.

Shortly after I left to go home and soak my bad decisions in the bathtub. 

My hangover was not over until close to 8:00PM, and I wish I was making that up. 

8:00PM being the exact time Hh texted me to see if I wanted to go hang out with her and our new bartender friend, which I declined, because (1) my stomach was now singing the tune of "Fuck You." (2) I couldn't imagine driving back into the city, because as much as I adored our new bartender friend,  the thought of drinking more made me want to punch something. (3) Who was I really going to get to hang out with? Hh and our new bartender friend? Love Hh, in fact, I had just spent over 28 hours with her and it was AWESOME, but I was really just feeling that the benefits of driving into the city were outweighed by the fact I could just text her from my couch. 

At 8:30PM she sent me a text saying how she, our new bartender friend, and IrishEyes were all hanging out. WHAT?!?! 


Had I known that our new bartender friend was biffles with IrishEyes and that me getting up off the couch and driving into the city would have afforded me the opportunity to hang out with him outside of the typical kiss each other over the bar environment, I'd have jumped off my ass in a heartbeat. 

But, I didn't. 
So, I didn't. 

Instead I sat at home wondering what it would be like to hang out with IrishEyes with some friends in a nice low-key situation. 

And in my imagination it was awesome and involved lots of high-fives and bad jokes and inappropriate comments, sprinkled with a lot of laughs and good times. All of which would have been 100X more fun than sitting on the couch. 

And I know what you're thinking. You're wondering how in one blog post I can talk about how I like two guys. 

I do. I like lots of guys. I do. 

This goes back to that post where I'm crushed out. There is a certain hierarchy of crushdom. I have crushdom tiers of who wins out. 

I realized this while talking to Blair about my evening with SexyFace. She asked me if I would want to be in an exclusive relationship with him.

Without hesitation I said, "If dating him exclusively was on the table, I'd be allllll over it."

I started thinking about who else in my rolodex, I'd be all over and I come up with one name. 

SexyFace - over and over again. 

There's a maybe or two in the second tier and then down in the third tier is IrishEyes, probably because I don't know him like I know SexyFace. And I'm going to be real with you readers, from the moment I first asked him for glasses upon glasses upon glasses of water on the night of the great Kamikazefest, he's just always put me in a flutter. 

Christina Perry says it best -

"I never thought that you would be the one to hold my heart
But you came around and you knocked me off the ground from the start"

So while I might have oodles of crushes upon crushes, I'm not a man eater. I said it in my last post, I like these guys for who they are on different levels of like. While I do have this crush on IrishEyes, it's different and can't possibly compare to the one on SexyFace. COME ON! I gave him the nickname SexyFace! I promise he's legit and great!  

So anyway, that was my weekend, some great friends, good times, bad decisions, and a parking ticket. (Yep, in my hungover state I forgot to move my car - say goodbye to $50 checking account). 

Overall a great weekend. 

Monday, March 12, 2012

Where did all the good men go...

... or at least the ones that want to date me.

I have not been on a date since.... mid January.

I'm not complaining, because I haven't really felt all that much like going on any. I just like to point out obvious things in order to talk about them.

The pool of men in my life the last month or so just hasn't inspired me to really go out with anyone. Don't get me wrong, a lot of them are really great guys, but I'm officially in a dating rut.

The concept of meeting someone from OkCupid bores me. I don't have the urge or the gumption to exert the effort needed to engage in getting to know yet another guy from the online dating world.

Maybe the urge will hit me again, but I just can't bring myself to toss out anymore self-depreciating humor and witty banter with someone who will probably disappear in one to two months anyway.

My sense of humor is top-notch-awesome, and I'm tired of wasting quality jokes with guys who don't care. It's EXHAUSTING.

Personally I think I'm crushed out. 

I think I have literally spread my crushes on guys I chat with too thin.

Yes, I never thought it could happen, but I think I have too many crushes right now and adding anymore just doesn't excite me.

I want to date someone I know. Not someone I have to blindly go off of the bare bones I pick up from a picture and a paragraph, but someone who knows who I am and knows that I'm awesome and knows that I'm a real person who just wants to cuddle and love. (And someone who preferably has a dog that I can take on walks and play with).

There's a part of me that wants to text the guys I have crushes on and say, "Here's the deal. I like you, and I'm in the market for someone to date would you like to experience some quality dating with me?"

But I know that if someone wanted that, they'd already have said something right?

I don't know. See my problem is I tend to like the loners, or the confirmed old bachelors, or the people who live too far away. And the loners, and the confirmed old bachelors, and the people who live too far away aren't going to one day decide that they want to be tied down, or give up their free-wheeling single life, or move closer to be with me... I'm awesome, but I'm not Moses. I can't perform miracles. I know asking someone to be something they're not is futile, and that's the whole thing.

I don't want to change them. I like them like they are.

 I like that SexyFace likes his personal space, because I like my personal space, and I totally respect that. I like that his loner lifestyle has gotten him where he is, because he's successful being him, and I like that.

I love that Bartender is this confirmed old bachelor living life like he's 21 again. I love that about him because I know that he's on my level with a lot of things, but he's experienced and has a grasp on what's important in life - living how you want to live. I think it's great!

And I think that ManMe's desire to follow his passions in the faraway lands of Far-away-dom is absolutely awesome. I wouldn't want him to change that for the world. (O.k. maybe a little bit) But there's no guarantee that if he did move closer that anything grand would happen anyway. It could just be a passing fancy.

That's my deal. I like people for being who they are. I can't change it. I don't want to change it. I know that people are different and exciting and no two people are the exact same, and I crush the guys I crush because I know that. I adore them individually for who they are, not who I want them to be.

So with that said, I'm exhausted trying to learn new exciting facts about people that just want to know small exciting facts about me. I'm tired of the "blind date" approach. I'm tired of chasing and pursuing and struggling to sound excited about every new prospect that knocks on my door.

I might not KNOW where all the good men have gone, but hopefully in their journey to wherever they go one of them might find me along the way.

So I posted all of that just to say - I'm going to sit on my ass and just be me. I'm going to step back and take a little breath and enjoy life. Enjoy the fact that I have awesome friends and a great family and just take time that I normally spend giving low scores in quickmatch via the OkCupid and work on being me. Because I like me.

And I'll never be one of those girls that gets excited for tulle and tutus. I'll never be one of those girls whose sole purpose in life is to be a size 0 - my love of food outweighs my slight desire to be a size 6 again. I'll never be one of those girls who looks absolutely adorably cute in every single one of their photos. I'll never be one of those girls who doesn't tell you that you have spinach in your teeth.

That's just not who I am.
I'm a gun-toting, straight-talking, kind-of-shy, self-confident lady who may or may not have to sleep with a night guard because I have ground my teeth into a serious case of some TMJ, and who likes to host dinner parties because I like sharing my cooking abilities with people I care about.

And maybe since I like people for the way they are and who they are and what they are, someone will come along one day and like me for me, without me having to go on a frickin' safari in the dating savannah to find him.

Thursday, March 8, 2012

Quadfecta of Electronic Dumping

I was actually never going to post this post. I was going to let it sit here in my unfinished posts, because it was never supposed to be relevant again, but this past week I ran into the guy it's about, and his continued chicken behavior still irks me.

So ends the story of NotBen.

Now I've been dumped a lot of ways.

The slow fade.
The cold turkey.
The text message. (You're still a dick, sir)
The instant message. (gotta love technology)
The phone call.
The in-person.
The skype.
The I'm too busy to call you on Thanksgiving because I'm with my family, and you're too needy (I'm sorry, quat?) This was prequealed by the 'I refuse to listen to you cry because your Aunt died. You can read all about this here. (Sometimes I should just read the signs).
The raging belligerent dumping at 3 a.m. in my dorm hallway because I didn't want to watch "Dawn of the Dead" for the 133rd time (I really can't make this shit up).
The belligerent naked man cornering me in his room, wondering why I just wont do him... (for starters you're naked - I'm not - and you're not Barney Stinson).

AND NOW!!!!!! <--- Now means like 6 months ago when this actually happened.

The let me tell you through text that I'm going to break up with you via an email...

Oh yes.

Ladies and Gentlemen it gets worse than a belligerent former marine beating down your dorm door at 3 a.m.

It gets mental.

Some of the men in my life are so unhinged and mentally similar to a five year old, that they cannot actually just come out and say - "I want to not date you anymore." 

I realize that I should have figured out that it wasn't going to work since he was a graduate of my alma mater, which is notorious for producing men of "superb stock," who think they're the king of the world when in fact they're actually only getting tail because the ratio is skewed, (70% female to 30% male, and I'm not making that up). I'm just saying women enjoy sexytime as much as menfolk do.

So women's standards are lowered in order to get some themselves. In fact at my alma mater I can think of maybe 10 guys... in the history of my knowledge of people at AU who aren't complete d-bags when in a 'relationship' with women.

(I probably just pissed a lot of guys from my alma mater off, but let's be real the majority of them treated the girls like crap because they knew they could get away with it - I'm not saying all of them did, I'm just saying a lot of them).

But I digressed. ANYWAY.
I should have known it was going to end quicker than a Roman Candle in the hands of a 12 year old boy, but I had such-HIGH-hopes. He seemed genuine.

In fact he had many plusses going for him.

He was a friend of a friend, +1 <--- BUILT IN RECOMMENDATION!!!
He was intelligent, +1
He was outgoing, +1
He was sporty, +1
He was following his passions, +1
He was funny, +1
He had a bad boy streak a mile wide, +1
He enjoyed quality fro yo, +1
He was cute! +1

So me wearing my naive girl panties, completely tossed all care into the wind and said, "Feet, start jumping."

After both of my feet landed, I hit the ground running. We had a great first date thing, followed by watching a Saint's game together one evening, followed by...




"Hey, um, I realize you're out of town right now, but when you get back I need my parking pass because I have a friend coming to visit."




"Hey, I know you're probs crazy busy, just coming back into town, but I really need that parking pass..."




"Heya, if you're just really not interested in seeing me anymore that's cool, but I need that pass - could you give it to our friend A, and I'll grab it from him."




Days pass, until finally...

TIME: 12:35 A.M, while I'm fast asleep, "I left it on your windshield."


TIME: 9:31 A.M, when I reach my car out of breath and see NOTHING on my windshield, "It's not there you fucking asshole!"
"I'll pay you for it."
"That's not the fucking point. How much do you seriously not want to see me that you couldn't even hand me my parking pass? Am I seriously that horrible of a person?"
"Look, I'm going to send you an email to explain why I can't date you, what's your email address?"

Now my first thought is (1) does this guy have an STD? (2) Who emails a break-up letter, just call me up and say, "it's not working." I'm a relatively level-headed individual, I get that sometimes it doesn't work out, and (3) How dumb do you have to be to leave a parking pass... OUT IN THE OPEN, on a windshield, in a KNOWN crime area.

So after I got his text about the email, I sent him my email address...




You get the idea.

There's a lot more to the story that I'm leaving out for the sake of our mutual friends who might come across this, but in case you were wondering what else happened, I'll tell you this. When I saw the guy at the event this week, a surge of rage, usually reserved for Dicky MacDickerson swept through my body. The need to rip his face off was strong, but for the sake of my professional career, I decided to lay off the crazy pills.

He told one of our mutual friends that he couldn't believe I was there, that he needed to apologize for being a class A dickwad.

He never made it across the room to apologize. In fact, when it was down to just me, our good friend A, and a few of my friends left in the room, he didn't even stop to say bye to HIS FRIEND - A. Nope, instead, he ran out of that room like someone had set fire to his non-existent balls.

So here's my question to you, the readers. If someone KNOWS they're being a dick/ass/bitch, and will later feel remorse and the need to apologize, why do they act that way in the first place? Isn't it just better to be a good human being, all the time?

So anyway, I can hear y'all wondering, "what is the POINT of this post?"

I was riding in the car Tuesday with my friend Harm, talking about our dating lives when he said something really poignant.

"Why can't people just treat other people like human beings?" <--- POINT.

He also said that today computer screens have completely dehumanized interactions. We act as though there's not another person sitting on the other end of that connection, but there is.

And he's so fucking right. SO RIGHT. Between all these new methods of dating via the computer and your cell phone with things like circle.s or whatever that site is called, people are becoming less people-y and more detached from human form in our minds, if that makes any sense.

I admit it. Sometimes I just don't want to face telling someone I don't want to date them anymore, but knowing at the end of the date that it's not going anywhere, is soooooo much better than finding out after you've sent three text messages that show your cute and sassy side, to which they have not responded. So that's what I do. At the end of the date if I'm not feeling the spark or am a little creeped out by their collection of taxidermied rodents, I just say, "you know what I had a lot of fun, I really did, but I'm so sorry, I just don't think a second date would be a good idea."


Yes, I am a master of the cold turkey. God, I am a master of the cold turkey, but I know how much that sucks, because I've been on the other side and have felt the chill of its wintery-poultry-smelling grasp. So unless the person is a complete psychopath, see the Marine, I tend to actually own up to not wanting to talk to them in that manner anymore.

Because the fact of the matter is, we all need to man up.

Monday, March 5, 2012

Single During a Crisis

I have had a pretty rough start to 2012.

Parking tickets. Reduction of my hours at work. Family medical emergencies.

And now this.

My Toyota built car (a first generation Scion) began to accelerate uncontrollably Saturday night sending me from 35 mph to 65 mph in less than 15 seconds, and I wasn't even pushing the gas pedal.

Since I have no urge to look at my much beloved bright orange xB, named Terrence, and since you could not pay me to get behind the wheel again, I spent the majority of Sunday stuck in my bumblefuck apartment out in the suburbs reading about the rash of Toyota accidents that occurred in the mid/late 2000s.

The latest report I found says that driver error, sticky accelerator pedals, and an unwieldy floor mat are what has been causing Toyota manufactured vehicles to careen out of control. According to Toyota  there is "NOTHING" wrong with the vehicle itself, because they've fixed the problem! But ladies and gentlemen that's a big crock of bullshit.

My grandfather is one of my most favorite people in the world, and lucky for me, he also spent the tail end of his golden years before retirement working as a car mechanic and body repairman.

A few months after the first few Toyotas started to accelerate uncontrollably, my grandfather and I were sitting on his porch talking about it. He told me exactly what to do in that situation. Pull out the mat. Push on the brakes with both feet, as hard as you can, flip the car into neutral gear and when you get to a slow speed, put it in park. You can find details of what to do HERE. Seriously, everyone should read that, because it could save your life.

I don't necessarily think that the bit about turning off your engine while speeding down the highway without control of your brakes is logically sound, because you can lose the ability to operate your steering wheel (if you have power steering).

Now I don't know what caused my sudden and horrifying acceleration into the land of the almost bloodied and mangled with bits of metal impaling my flesh, it could be electronic problems, cruise control (which my car does NOT have), or the so-called, "tin whiskers," that new studies are suggesting, but I'm going to give you a play-by-play of the most horrifying two-minutes of my life.

Late Saturday night, after watching the new Reese Witherspoon/Chris Pine film with some of my sorority sisters, I packed into my car and began singing to the Adele album playing in my CD player. As I left Bethesda and headed towards NIH, I accelerated my car from the 25 mph to the 35 mph limit increase.

Everything happening exactly how it has occurred for the year since I've lived out here. Everything very standard. As I approached the hill northbound past Cedar Ln. I pressed on the accelerator to increase my momentum to get me up the hill.

So far. So good.

I then eased off the accelerator pedal, but the accelerator pedal didn't ease up with me. Instead, it. kept. going. down. Like a phantom foot pushing it down. I tried the brakes. They were locked up.

I flashed back to the horrors of the runaway Toyotas and remembered... that Toyota blamed the floor mats! So I immediately ripped my floor mat out from under my feet and threw it in the passenger seat.

The car continued to accelerate up the hill. I tried the brakes again.


I then remembered... Toyota blamed sticky accelerator pedals. (Don't try this at home kids.) Being an expert at driving at slow speeds and picking my cell phone up from between my feet when it falls there during normal driving conditions, I reached down, and tried to pull the gas pedal up. I pulled AS. HARD. AS. I. COULD. I'm not a weak person, by any stretch of the imagination. You can ask this R.A. fellow I made out with my freshman year of college. I've got great upper body strength. I pulled him off the bed (he had to be 285lbs at the time). (It was actually really cute. He was trying to get me to join him on the bed by "fishing" with a lanyard, and I didn't realize what he was doing, so when he "hooked" me I pulled back. Who knew I was that strong).

Guess what... even though I pulled as hard as I could, the pedal stayed stuck.

At this point in time, according to the all knowing Toyota, it becomes driver error as to why the gas pedal wont budge... but (1) I wasn't even pushing the fucking pedal and (2) I DONT WANT TO DIE.

So I flash backed to me and my grandfather, sitting on the porch. Him smoking a cigar, and me sipping a sweet tea.

"If your car wont stop, push on the brakes like your life depends on it. When you get to a relatively slow speed, slip your car into neutral, and stay clear of other cars. Always remember to stay calm."

So, I did what any of my cousins and aunts and uncles should do. I took my grandfather's advice.

As I crested the top of the hill through the stop light at Alta Vista Rd, and looked down at all the cars stopped at the light, and the swift death that would take me. I slammed on my brakes with all the strength one can muster while sitting down in a death trap careening towards a stop light and the point where the red line metro slips under ground between Grosvenor and Medical Center, because my luck, I'd fly onto the tracks into the headlights of an oncoming metro train.

The brown fence blocks off the redline metro tracks.

When I got the car slowed down to about 40 mph from the 65 mph it had been at the top of the hill, I slipped the car into neutral, and continued pressing on the brakes, which were still fighting me every inch of the way.

By the time I was 20 ft away from the intersection and certain death, as cars came flying around the corner of Pooks Hill onto Rockville Pike, I had managed to get my car down to 10 mph. I had no time. I could either force it into park or go swiftly into oncoming traffic in the intersection. So I put it in park, switched on my hazards, and after a few short breaths managed to call my parentals to see who I should call.

The poor AAA people weren't lucky enough to get calm me though, because by then I had no more reserves, I started crying elephant tears as I sat in the median trying to get them to send me a tow-truck.

In the past, every time I saw another Toyota send it's passengers to an early grave, I thought, It couldn't happen to me. I drive a Scion, we're so much better. But it did. A 2004 car with less than 60,000 miles on it sent me on a steeple chase of death where victory and survival could only be found in the collected wisdom of my grandfather.

That's my story. I'm not a dumb person. I didn't panic and push the acceleration pedal while my car rapidly sped up. I managed to remove the floor mat which had supposedly caused death and sudden acceleration in other cases. I also thought to perhaps loosen the "sticky accelerator pedal," which didn't work either. Toyota has something wrong with their cars, and it's not just the Toyotas it's anything manufactured in a Toyota facility. Until they figure it out, driving a Toyota is akin to putting your life in the hands of a swift executioner. Their continued negligence in these situations is disgusting, and needs to be seriously investigated. Not this sham of an investigation, which only tells you what isn't wrong with them."

But that's not the only reason for this post, the second reason that I feel this post is important is because  being single during crises is hard. I almost died. I know you hear people say that all the time, but seriously people. Had I not been thinking straight, had my grandfather not been a mechanic, or had I not remembered all those old news stories about the Toyota death traps, I actually might have been on the morning news as another Toyota statistic.

After the incident, I texted my friend Sam, who is absolutely amazing and came to keep me company. She's absolutely the best. That's the most important thing you can have as a singleton living in Washington, DC - friends. Friends are your best defense against the emotional turmoil of crises and tragic circumstances.

If I didn't have my friends as a support group, I think I would have gone crazy and packed up my life here a long time ago.

The most important thing to do when you're post crisis is to get yourself somewhere safe.

After you're somewhere safe, and you've called 911 or AAA, and help is on the way, call a loved one - family or friend, and talk about it, keeping your panicked emotions inside of you isn't good for your emotional health. You need to talk to someone. Even if all you can manage is broken up words amidst sobs of relief and distress. Call them.

When everything is over, and you're back in your home or in a safe location, indulge.

You've just been in a horribly trying situation. You deserve comfort. If a friend volunteers to come over, let them. Let them be there for you. You can't be strong all the time. Vulnerability is human. You can't always put forth a brave face, and if there's anything that can help you through an emotionally difficult time, it's a friend. Indulge in their friendship. Indulge in a plate of cookies. Indulge in a bubble bath and a fluffy warm towel, and a bottle of strong wine. Don't drink to the point of being blind, but if you need a drink to calm your nerves. For all that is good and holy in the world, drink.

Just always remember during crises, you're not alone.

You have friends and family who love you and who can take care of you, when you're too flustered to take care of yourself. You don't need to pity yourself and dredge up thoughts about how you need a significant other to wrap you in their arms and hold you until the panic goes away. It's nice if you have that, but as a singleton, most of us don't.

So remember that as a singleton you have friends who can hug you. You have friends that can be there for you. You have friends that will come over after you've been careening towards a certain death no matter how late to share some fresh baked cookies with you.

Friends and family are the most important weapons a singleton can have in their arsenal during a crisis. That and the ability to take some deep breaths and calm yourself down.
Just remember that.

Friday, March 2, 2012

Turn Up The Burner, I'm Getting Cold

Raise your hand if you like someone. 
Now put it down. 

Raise your hand if you like more than one person. 
Now put it down. 

Raise your hand if you like one person more than the other person. 
Now put it down. 

Raise your hand if you understand the phrase, "they're on my back burner."
Now put it down. 

Raise your hand if you've done it to someone, and used them, and abused them, and left them high and dry when someone better came along, not once, not twice, but more times than you can count. 

You may officially be kind of a jerk. 

Now don't get me wrong, I am ALL about the multi-tasking dating life. I have guys that I date. I have guys that act as my emotional stalwart companions. I have my Scrabble buddies. I have guys that I crush on. I have my bartenders (hey hey!). And I have those guys that are on my periphery should one of the others fail to meet my expectations. <-- no but really this is a carefully constructed pyramid of menfolk, one piece moving could jeopardize the entire system. 

But one thing, I don't do is lie to them about what they are (aside from the guys I have crushes on - can't tell them. It'd upset the whole balance of crushdom). I am all about letting guys know where they stand in my life. I have a life label maker and toss up those labels like no body's business.  

Because, it's one thing to have two people who know exactly where they stand, i.e. a bed buddy and the person you're dating. As long as that bed buddy understands the rules of engagement and isn't going to be asking you to grab some coffee or go meet their parents - no one get hurts. But if your bed buddy starts to get couple-y, you need to redraw the lines. 

And it's another thing, if you're playing those, "I don't want to put labels on it" lines, and you're not a commitment-phobe, because at that point you need to grow up. It's one thing to be a confirmed bachelor/bachelorette who Hugh Hefners their way through life. (Yes I just used Hugh Hefner as a verb). It's another to have a "string of beaus and make them crazy for you." - Anne of Green Gables. 

So often people find the man/girl of their dreams and pursue them with taste and refinement only to discover that slowly they're pushed further and further from the "let's plan dates 3 days to a week ahead of time" and more into the "hey I'm bored/lonely/horny" monthly phase. You notice that the time you spend with each other grows wider, but you still date. You're not a fuck buddy by any means. You've met the friends, hung out on a Saturday night watching a movie without sexytime, but you're clearly not this guy/girl's main priority, because you only see them once every 2/3 months. 

To me that screams, back burner. 

But how do you know if you've been put on the back burner? I have a classic example of back burner vs. backup - using my own, high-quality-completely-not-messed-up-dating-life.  

My backup. 

I have a really good guy friend with whom I made a pact. 

You see, when I first got to college, I went to this palm reader in the quad with my friend Lys, you can read her blog here. Now her being her, she asked the palm reader about her career. Me being me (I am a pisces after all) I asked about my love life. "When would I be married!?" Ten years she said. So if I would like to not tempt the fates according to some sketchy palm reader - I have until 2016 to get a ring on it. Never one to buck a chance at a good story, I told my concerns to my guy friend, who agreed that 2016 was a quality year to get married. So a la "My Bestfriend's Wedding" starring Julia Roberts, we made a pact that if neither of us are married/in a serious relationship at that time, our wedding bells will ring. 

I know what you're thinking. Man, um, that's really young to have a marriage pact - that barely gives you time to live out the rest of your twenties. 
Well guess what, I have four babies to pop out so I think that's a great year to have a wedding! Bite me.  


My back burner
Once upon a time I met Mr. Kryptonite. I fell into crush faster than you could say, "crush." I had classes with him, we lived in the same building. I sucked at economics, and he was good at them, so he became my study partner. And life went on... And then life involved some kissing... And then life involved some dating... And then life was put on pause. 

Where did he go? Wasn't it just last week we were all over each other like wolverines in heat? A month goes by. Then two. Then Three. Then he pops up again. And life involved some kissing, and some dating, and pause. And then he disappeared again. A few more months and then like a burly jack-in-the-box he popped up, again. 

You can see where this is going. Turns out in those months when I'd never hear from him, he didn't learn how to not talk contrary to what I thought... he was talking and dating other girls, trying to find whatever piece he was missing from his fucked up puzzle.

Eventually I got fed up with being pushed aside only to be brought back whenever he felt like it, so I moved on. Got myself a boyfriend, started living my happy little life, broke up with boyfriend because I self-sabotage my happy little life, and guess who popped up. 

If you guessed Mr. Kryptonite you win a pat on the back. 
Somehow he had found out I was single. If by now you can't see where this is going, I'll break it down... six years of only getting some attention when the pans on the front burners over heat, is enough to drive a girl insane - like actually, certifiably insane. 

But that's the point. Putting someone consistently on your back burner isn't right. Either give it a go, or let them go. Don't leave someone guessing about whether or not you're into them. Grow a pair of balls and step up to the plate of life. 

If you don't like the idea of only having one person in your dating pool, multi-task that shit. Just make sure everyone in the mix knows where they stand. Act like an adult and handle things in an adult, "let's talk about what I'm looking for" manner. 

Don't consistently throw the same person under the bus every other month because the other ones never work out. Because at the end of the day that person you've thrown there on the back burner will start to resent that you've used them, and then they bubble themselves right off the stove. What are you left with then? A dirty emotional stove to clean. Good luck with that.