Bases - Clarified

Have you ever watched a baseball game?

Yes? Awesome.

No? Well then this is a baseball diamond. (I'm not going to tell you the rules - just accept that this is a baseball diamond)

A poorly drawn one, but hey I haven't used paint in YEARS. Let's pretend it's awesome - a suspension of disbelief if you will.


Now,
If you have been anywhere in the dating world, ever. You know the baseball base system. If you don't you should pick up the rock you've been living under and go on a date.

If you don't I'll explain it... the baseball base sexual metaphor system, is a way to gauge how far one goes with a sexual partner. Certain bases mean certain things, progressing in level of involvement based on how close you get to a homerun.

Currently, the system is based on bases.
1st, 2nd, 3rd, and Homerun.

1st - Some make out action
2nd - Some touching of the mammaries and the pants zipper. Maybe the zipper's unzipped, who knows! But there's touching.
3rd - Anything Below the Belt - Wink Wink Nudge Nudge know what I mean? (NO I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU MEAN!)
Home Run - WHOOPEE!

It's a system that has worked and been in use for years.

After chit chatting with a few friends, we decided that the current system leaves a lot of unnecessary room for clarification between 2nd, and 3rd. It's 2011 People, the sexual revolution happened. They say sex on the radio. They have sex in commercials for Windex. They have allusions to sex in kids movies (Rango - "You're moist with anticipation"). Sex is part of our lives, and it isn't going anywhere. Try as they might to ban kids putting condoms on bananas in school. It's not going anywhere.

So here's the question that is left not clarified in the current metaphor system... did someone visit downtown or didn't someone visit downtown...?

So, I'm proposing a revamped base system. A BASEMEN-based system.
1st, 2nd, Short Stop, 3rd, and Homerun.

It has long been pushed off to the side like a neglected step-child and for the sake of the touchy feel-y base thing, aka, sexual metaphorical baseball standards, I'm proposing we include short stop, due to the fact that there is a man/lady there catching balls left and right with the best of them, and for too long he/she has been left out, even though he catches the majority of the line drives. It's my opinion he has been left out long enough! He needs some recognition! He needs some love! He needs some coochie-coochie just like the rest of the basemen!

So I propose the following basemen based metaphor list.
1st - Some make out action: a little tongue here, some tongue over there, you get it.
2nd - Some handsy making out: A touch, touch here and a touch, touch there.
Short Stop - Hands under the clothes in places you wouldn't want your mamma to know about.
3rd - No holds barred...
Home Run (Catcher just sounds lame) - WHOOPEE!

It might be more graphic, but it leaves less room for the imagination. What do you think?

Casual Relationships Defined

There's been a lot of tweets in the twittersphere about FWBs being bad or girls getting too involved with them or people interchanging the meaning of a Fuck Buddy with that of a FWB, and I've started to get a little frustrated. (O.k. so mostly I'm frustrated with the HORRIBLE DC DRIVERS, but it rolled over into my script writing, and then bounced over into people calling the Bartender my Booty Call - a booty call is a thing, not a person... )

Casual Relationships seem difficult to define because they're just that, casual. As opposed to the more rigid lines of boyfriend/girlfriend, or fiance, or husband. But they do in fact have CLEAR distinctions that people should really get to understand.

FWB - a friend with whom you have a sexual relationship. Like all friends this is NOT your only relationship, it's in addition to a healthy dating life. (For example you have your group of close friends, but say you get a girlfriend. You still have those friends. They still exist. They didn't fall off the face of the planet because you suddenly found a girlfriend. But say you meet a cool person and you bring them into your circle, they're a new friend. You still date outside of that new friend, because your friendship isn't exclusive. SO a FWB is a friend with whom you share a casual sexual relationship).

Fuck Buddy - A sexual relationship that blurs no boundaries. Sex. That's it. You go in, you bounce about, and you LEAVE. However, because there's no emotional connection odds are someone in the fuck buddy relationship will strive to connect to the other partner, that person normally tries to make this connection at a deeper, emotional level, causing the Fuck Buddy relationship to grow off kilter, and eventually derail.

Cuddle Buddy - A relationship that involves an extensive amount of touching/cuddling/holding. It may or may not include making out, but it does not include sex. As soon as a hand dips down into the pants, this ceases to be a cuddle buddy and instead evolves into either a fuck buddy or a FWB. A Cuddle Buddy is not exclusively just cuddling, but can be/ and in most cases is, a friend with whom you cuddle.

One-Night-Stand - A sexual relationship which can either be 3rd base worthy or homerun worthy (if you catch my drift), where no further relationship is pursued. As soon as you pursue a second night of mind blowing baseball metaphors, this drifts over into the Fuck Buddy Category.

Booty Call - A text or phone call that has an explicit meaning. Sex. It can happen at any time of the day, contrary to popular belief. You can argue with me until you're blue in the face, but if you're only getting booty calls at night, it's because the person doing the calling is either booty calling someone else during the day or working.

Affair - when one parter of a relationship, goes outside of that relationship for sexual gratification.

Emotional Affair - when one partner of a relationship, goes outside of that relationship for a deeper emotional connection that they feel is missing from the relationship.

Sexting Affair - when one partner of a relationship, goes outside of that relationship for sexting gratification, normally because the other partner in the relationship will not sext. I personally did not know that this was actually a thing until a man with a Fiance texted me very EXPLICITLY things that he wanted to do to me. Ugh, ugh, let me vom a little in my mouth real quick. If you're already having a sexting affair less than a month into your engagement, you're probably not going to last. Especially when I send her those pictures... really people?! REALLY? When I turn my phone on after the midnight showing of Harry Potter, I don't want to open my phone to see your Ron Weasley. Gag.

Sexting Harassment - When a person whom you used to date doesn't get the message that you're no longer interested, due to their bizarre deviances and the fact they were a jerk, and sends you unwanted sexual pictures/texts in order to entice you back into their affections. Okay, so the term is actually more broad, when someone sends you unwanted sexts, but really... can you stop?

Mistress - A female, long-term sexual companion to whom you are not married.

Paramour - A male, long-term sexual/asexual companion to whom you are not married. Usually categorized by a strong emotional or physical intimacy. The only reason I know this is because on Facebook I was "married" to a close friend for about a year, and had a string of boyfriends ask me if they could be my mistress. Now I don't know about you, but I like my men like I like my toilet paper, tough yet comfy and ripped. So, hearing typically bearded men ask if they could be a mistress was a bit creepy, so, I looked up the male version and discovered that I could call them my paramours.

If there's anything else you want defined let me know, I'll fix it up.

UPDATE:

No Strings Attached - a sexual relationship where commitment does not go hand in hand with sex, it's like if the Fuck Buddy Relationship and the FWB Relationship had a baby... (where someone didn't hand over a diamond engagement ring) This type of relationship can become murky (have you seen "No Strings Attached with Natalie Portman?) because people are typically using NSA as a sexual relationship due to not having a healthy dating life, which is where the problem comes in. As soon as you are no longer looking for emotional connections outside of the NSA Relationship, you're going to turn around and start emotionally attaching yourself to them, which is when they implode.

My Recommendation (which means you can take it or leave it) is if you're calling them something other than the person your Dating, your BF/GF, your Significant Other, your Fiance, or your Spouse - then it's a casual relationship. Casual Relationships are NOT I repeat NOT an outlet for your emotional needs. They're casual, like two ships passing in the night. Not like two ships where one is the Andrea Dorea and the other is the MS Stockholm, colliding head first into each other almost as if destiny had planned it...

Bars - Dupont Edition

After running around DC for the majority of the last 8 weekends carousing and having a jolly good time of it. I've got a couple of recommendations for places to go and places to avoid, like the plague.

FRONTPAGE
A Dupont Staple right off the Red Line. Literally you exit, and it's right there. Now aside from my own love of this place, for the past 4 weekends, it's been deader than Michael Jackson (too soon?) Normally it has a groovin dance floor and a chill back bar to get away from all the creepster army guys (and by army guys I mean that one really creepy army guy that is literally there every night and likes to insult anyone with skin darker than white). But seriously the military men abound in this establishment due to the fact that at least three of the bartenders served in varying branches of the military and have a LOT of friends. I can't tell you how many times I've heard, "Let's go get a drink from my friend -insert bartender's name here-, we served in Iraq together!" But I digress, in my opinion this recent lameness can be attributed to the recent rash of purse snatchings in the bar (yes I'm serious) and the fact that college is out for the summer for the most part, which is where a majority of the bar's clientelle comes from during August - May. But to give you a heads up of HOW dead it has become, while dancing there on Friday night, I was one of 5 people on the dance floor 2 of which were my own friends. Maybe Saturdays are better? For the bar's sake I hope so.
RATING: LAME


HELIX LOUNGE
A swanky lounge in a hip hotel "Four Blocks" from the Dupont Circle Metro. I can tell you now the "Four Blocks" bit is a cop. What they really mean is about a mile away from the metro if we're going to be real. Because while technically yes there are four blocks they're friggin' long arse blocks. Aside from that it's a tiny spot where I'd recommend happy hour with some friends due to its smaller capacity and lack of a DJ. But they have an expansive patio area which rivals the size of the interior bar. I cannot tell you enough how cool the interior of the bar is. The designer really went all out with slick lines and show lighting.
RATING: CHILL


SIGN OF THE WHALE
Located legitimately a few blocks from the Dupont Circle Metro, this laid back sports bar offers up free happy hours to anyone who can write their name legibly on a piece of paper that circulates the bar on any given night. I've recently been frequenting it due to my friends being able to write legibly and received free cover and $3 drinks. Yes you read that right nights at SOTW will typically cost you a five dollar cover, spilled drinks and MANY MANY BRUISES. The fact of the matter is that the bar is oriented in what I like to call galley/alley fashion, which means it's long and narrow and everyone is going to be traipsing by you (read PLOWING) in order to find an open spot. Apparently the bar also didn't get the memo to turn down the A/C when it gets hopping because they instead use industrial fans which can and will blow up girl's skirts, giving patrons a free show of some people you want to see and some people you do not. Mostly this is the spot to start off the night if the drinks are cheap due to a friend's happy hour, otherwise it's not worth the five bucks.
RATING: ONLY FOR FREE HAPPY HOURS


MIDTOWN
Located next to Lucky Bar, Midtown offers up a more club style bar than the majority of Dupont's offerings. It's swanky. It's skanky. And I have no urge to wait in the ridiculously long line in order to be judged profusely by their Russian Bouncers for my jeans and flipflops. While typically over 18 on the weekdays, they get picky on the weekends and bump the age group up to +21, which to me seems kind of dicky, but hey not my bar. The majority of girls popping around here are dressed to dance, and unknowingly, dressed to get felt up. Because unless you enter that bar with a man willing to intimidate the lurchers in the corners, then let me tell you the bottom line, you're going to get creeped on by many many men trying to stick their junk in your butt, and you're going to get pissed, and it's going to ruin your night.
RATING: LAME


LUCKY BAR
A few blocks away from the metro this laid back bar offers one solo pool table for those "lucky" enough to pounce; An over crowded dance floor; a long narrow stairwell up to the tiny-tiny bathroom, and a strange almagamation of weirdos/college kids/professionals/crazy pants-es. The other night a man carrying a wicker murse (man purse) attacked my group of peeps with his bad dance moves, while shoving his murses in our faces, which wouldn't have been a problem had we been able to run away, but since the bar was too crowded to function, let alone breathe we had to endure or peace out. Granted I have been here many a time on the weekdays later at night, and on those nights it's thoroughly a different place, with quality beer and a great atmosphere, but if you're looking to dance or just drink and chill. It's not conducive to those activities on the weekends. The Bar at the front is poorly designed to order drinks from and the bar on the main floor is only reachable if you like crowd surfing.
RATING: MEH - TAKE IT OR LEAVE IT


RUMORS
Located a short walk from the Sign of the Whale, Rumors offers a mix of dancing, drinking, and chilling in it's multi space environment which makes for a great atmosphere and allows a group of friends with different drinking interests to please their own tastes. While the dance floor does run on the smaller side, the DJ normally pumps out a solid mix of dance/rap/hip-hop/80s, keeping his dancers happy. The easily accesible main bar on the lower level has two sides making it easier to get the attention of the bartenders, while the bar up on the top level is typically staffed with 3/4 bartenders a night making it easy to get someone's attention. Caveat - a $5 cover, which typically makes people say things like, "I'm not paying no damn cover," BUT the cover for the most part keeps the creepers out, and the roving team of bouncers employed who, also, keep the creepster level to a minimum. Those burly men in Rumors apparel are not just for decoration, I've seen them kick out/carry out creepers who get too handsy or people who get too rowdy.
RATING: YES, PLEASE


BIG HUNT
Right across the street from the Southern exit of the metro, Big Hunt is all about the atmosphere, the good special house brews, and a mixture of hipsters and the laid back patron. They're the definition of divey in my opinion, which in my opinion means I don't want to go to their bathroom, because I'm not sure where it's been and since there are only two in the entire bar for men and women, sometimes the line for the shitty ass bathroom can get a bit long. And by shitty ass bathroom I mean some times it looks like someone couldn't locate the damn toilet paper. Walls are not for wiping people!!! There's a pool table and two skeeball games up on the top floors and plenty of seating indoors, while the patio up top can get a bit competitive for tables. Thing to note. You sit at a table, order from your waitress/waiter because they are circling. It's a good spot to hang out with friends in a low-key environment where you might meet other groups or you might not. It all depends on you.
RATING: YES - IF YOU CAN BRAVE THE BATHROOM.


JAMES HOBAN'S
Located across the street from the Front Page, Hoban's offers everything an Irish Pub typically offers, plus a snobby professional environment. This is where wanna be congressman go to die. I don't think I've ever seen more 40-60 year old men in a bar on a late night as I have here. It's not the most conducive space for finding people and it's definitely not conducive for meeting people unless you're looking for a sugar daddy.
RATING: LAME


URBANA
A quick walk from the Southern Exit of the Metro, Urbana is a rising establishment for food and wine in the Dupont area. I'm not sure if I'd recommend going here as a stop for your late night rounds, but they have creative drinks that will tingle your taste-buds and open your palette for their great food (minus the FOUL smelling tomato soup). They have an extensive wine list to serve you from if wine's your poison and offer two bar areas in which to meet and mingle with other people who enjoy good food and the swank atmosphere of this intelligently designed basement bar. They keep a pretty solid social media presence, letting you know of any specials and new flavors coming up on their menu.
RATING: WHY NOT - YOU'VE GOTTA EAT


PUBLIC BAR, AKA PUBLIC
The place to go to meet real men, is located just a few short blocks from the Southern Exit of the Metro. Boasting more TV screens than you can look at in a night, this very sporty bar has three floors/four bars and a LOT of people. Somenights are better than most and some nights it will cost you $5 to get in, I still haven't figured out their system of pay or don't pay, so I can't help you out there. The first floor is more conducive to meeting sporty people, checking out the games, where as the second floor is pretty much a dance dance dance kind of zone with some low seating spread around, while the third floor is... wait... are there four floors? I'm unsure..., there are so many stairs in this joint that I really can't remember, if there are four floors, instead of three, then it's safe to say the third floor is not worth visiting because it's not remarkable, but the roof bar, is pretty nice. I'd recommend it, if your knees can handle it.
RATING: SURE-WHY NOT


THE MADHATTER
A swirly-girgly mass of dancing/chilling/gaming/drinking patrons rushing through and rushing by located a few steps away from the BIG HUNT. Wow, is it worth it to go here!!! There's dancing on the massive main floor, along with drinking from a cash bar or the long galley/alley style bar, but all of this keeps you constantly moving, or getting constantly tread upon - recommendation: closed-toed-shoes. Upstairs offers different areas, each sporting their own smaller/easier to access bar, as well as, a chill area to talk and mingle versus the carnivale happening below. And let me tell you, it is a carnivale below, a mass of bodies sliding and writhing next to each other, where the only words heard are the music and the ones you can scream loud enough to hear. Prepare to be HOARSE HOARSE HOARSE following any night partied at the Madhatter on the bottom floor. Since this bar is always hopping, the line to get in can get pretty long, so I recommend heading there before midnight if you know this one is on your list.
RATING: YES


Any other bars you're curious about? Let me know I'll check em out and get back to you! Don't like my ratings for these? Suck it, they're subjective.

The Addiction

Shit.

Feelings.

Emotions.

Nervousness.



I haven't had a really intense crush in a while. The rush of adrenaline pounding through my veins, shaking my sweating hands (nice visual - I know) literally has not been felt by me in nearly 2 years. Mostly because either I know that it's not going to happen, or I'm not crazy about the guy I'm dating, which is why they seldom last more than a couple of dates, but here I am with my sweaty palms wondering if he's wondering about me, while I try for the 100th time to buckle down and rewrite this damn script by Blahblidiblah, which is subpar at best now that I've reread it for the 200th time (some people just shouldn't write Romantic Comedies, like the person who originally wrote this one).

I keep telling myself, stop texting him first, stop iming him first, stop it. Stop it. STOP IT! But then I think, but what if he doesn't know I like him.

Because that is possible, right? No.

They always know I like them. I've never been good at hiding that shit. Poor kid that sat in front of me during Texas History in 8th grade probably thought I was a drooling lunatic, that's how bad it is. And now, I'm pretty sure the drooling has just turned into eye fucking and excessive smiling, which may or may not be creepier than the drooling.

And I can't really find a way to counteract the effects of the crush, because I've looked it up and according to this article in Women's Health, my newly acquired rush is a result of surging levels of dopamine, which are driving me absolutely crazy. And I have no way to counteract the dopamine... or do I?

According to other various articles, the only thing that can reduce this new found stress of increased dopamine surging through me is a lovely chemical called - oxytocin, which is created naturally when you hold someone's hand, or hug someone, or cuddle, which sounds nice and cute and cuddly-awesome. Except for the fact that my crush is not within cuddling distance...

So I'm jonesing for human contact.

If you think about it, it's horribly interesting that the human body recognizes that increased chemicals rushing through your body is abnormal and realizes the solution, much to my chagrin. It's like when out of nowhere you're hit with a huge thirst. It's your body's way of saying, "YO, I'm 70% water, and you haven't had liquids in a while - DRINK SOMETHING." OR like when you play a hockey game and afterwards your body's energy source is completely depleted, so you have to go out and eat protein to replenish your body's stores.

But seriously my body knows that the increased chemicals need to be evened out even if it doesn't care where it gets its next hit. I recognize that grabbing a random person and nuzzling into their neck is wrong, but my body not so much.

I was on the metro last weekend minding my own business, when I got a text from the Crush. It was a normal text, nothing exciting, but the next thing I know, I'm looking around trying to figure out which person would be my new cuddle friend. This is when I realized that being in public transport, ie, an all you can cuddle buffet was probably not the best place for me with my cravings.

Most people crave chocolate, alcohol, italian food, but currently I am craving human touch, so if a random girl runs up to you in DC and gives you a big frickin' hug... It's me. I've had my shots, and to my knowledge only my laughter is infectious.

Where are you taking me!!!!

Or the Blog where I tell a sad yet funny story about one of my bad decisions, in order for everyone else to learn from my mistakes...

---

It all started with a Kamikaze.

Two years ago, there was a huge bar crawl going down, and my slightly older more bar experienced friends and I, were taking the newly-turned-21, N, out to the bar crawl bars, without being actually part of the crawl. A sub crawl, crawl, if you will.

The first Irish pub was a bust, aside from the ober cheap Long Islands, so we tippied over our saucey selves to the Mardi Gras Bar, paid our cover and sidled to the rail, where we ordered the first round of Kamikazes.

Between the Long Islands and the Kamikazes, which were apparently free courtesy of SexyFace behind the bar, we thoroughly enjoyed our night, which may or may not have included my friend A, yelling at the later to be known as Dicky MacDickerson about how he was dumb and out of our league, all the while a very drunken N kept telling me how cute he was, as I tried to pick up his other friend (I like flirting, shoot me).

So as A and L danced the night away, drunken N, Blair and myself were pounding out drinks courtesy of SexyFace. I can't to this day tell you how many Kamikazes I had, but according to the general populace of the bar, it was more than I should have, because somehow in my drunken staggering confidence, I somehow managed to convince SexyFace that he needed my phone number.

We texted through the night.

The next night Blair, J and I hit the town again, particularly SexyFace's bar, which included more Kamikazes, receiving flowers from strange men, dancing through the night, and getting saucier than I had ever been, and have since been in my life. Somehow I managed to waddle my way to the bar and ask for water, after water, after water, after water, and as I floated my way to the bathroom SexyFace grabbed my arm and led me through the kitchen, into an alley, up a back stairwell, through a secured door, into a conference room where we spent the better part of 30-minutes, before I almost peed on him.

After I used the special employees bathroom in the secret offices above the bar, I went back downstairs to realize... the bar. was. closed. Blair and J were missing. And I was, um. stuck.

According to stories from this evening, Blair and J called to me from the street repeatedly, "LoRo, come on, let's go home!!" and I responded, "No no no, I'm fiiiiiine. I'm FIIIINE Sexyface is bringing me home," while they tried to bribe the bouncer to let them back inside to grab me.

Needless to say, the bouncer did not let them back inside, because the only people inside were, "employees."

---

SexyFace did indeed take me home, but this was prior to my knowledge of Rock Creek Park being actually IN DC (for the longest time I swear I thought it was in Arlington - shoot me!), and as the city lights faded away, and his SUV slipped through the trees, I began to panic. My phone was dead. I couldn't text anyone my location, no one knows where I am, or whom I'm with, and I began to realize, I have no. idea. where. I. am.

I started to freak internally, which is common, but then I started to freak externally, which is not.

"Where are we?"
"DC"
"No but really, where are we?"
"In the city."
"There are no woods in the fucking city, where the fuck are you taking me."
"Home"
"From Dupont to AU, there are no fucking forests!!!! WHERE ARE WE!?"
"Whoooa, have some water."
"I don't want no fricking water, where the shit.... are you gonna kill me? Are you going to murder me right now? I mean, I know I shouldn't get into strange men's cars, but I know you, but do I know you that well? How are you going to do it? Please don't strangle me, just shoot me. GOD, oh GOD! I don't even have kids! I can't even write my family a letter to tell them how much I love them because I don't think I can write right now, the road's too bumpy! Oh GOD Do you have paper?!!"
"Shit! LoRo, calm the fuck down."
"I'm gonna jump out."

Doors lock.

"I'm going to scream!"
"Already doing it"

As my life flashed before my eyes, I began to breathe. He stopped the car and turned to look at me.

"I'm not going to kill you ok? I wouldn't want to deal with your screams any more than I have to right now. Your adorable, but you need to calm. the. fuck. down."

"Ok"

I took some deep breaths from a paper sack, and no, I don't know why he had a paper sack in his car, but it kind of smelled like weed, so I'll leave it to your imagination.

Needless to say I eventually I made it home, courtesy of SexyFace and one very large bottle of the Fiji Water, also courtesy of SexyFace.

----

This story has a very, very, very valuable lessons that I learned as a child, and thoroughly understood then, but understand less when I'm discombobulated. And while, I know Sexyface, and I know that he's not going put me in a horrible situation, at the time, my knowledge of him was very limited, and since, there are so many fresh drinkers out there, who are jumping into the city and getting themselves in really questionable situations. I'm going to share with you my 3 Rules to live by as a DC Nightlife Patron.

1. Always go out with people you trust to bring you home at the end of the night.
I cannot intimate how important this rule is. I've heard so many horror stories from my friends about roofies and drunken abandonment by so called "friends" that now I don't go out with people unless I know that they are concerned about my life.

2. Have an exit strategy with your friends.
Have this conversation before you go out. This is called my No friend left behind strategy. I can't tell you how many times I've been the girl going, "NOOOOO it's totally o.k., go homeeeee! I'll follow you in 20 mins," and then had my peeps pull me out of a bar. Or have been the girl saying, "no no drunk friend, you have had one too many, your judgement is massively impaired, YOU'RE COMING WITH ME." You might be the bitchy friend for the night, but how proud will you feel in the morning when you see that sketchy creeper's face on the television with sexual predator in bold-print underneath his picture.

3. Don't get yourself into sticky situations.
Granted yes, I am still alive, but what would have happened had SexyFace been SexyAxeMurderer?
There are a few things that you should always have on you prior to going out, license, credit card/debit card, BACK UP credit/debit card, at least 20 bucks in cash, your medical insurance card, and an emergency phone number. (ALWAYS - license for identification, money, a back up in case your money disappears, medical card incase the worst happens, and an emergency phone number in case your phone dies and you need to find a pay phone to call someone). Always carry a phone charger with you before you go out, and ALWAYS make sure your phone is charged prior to go time. Don't get into the cars of people you've just met, even if they do seem soooo nice or look sooo cute. And If someone from a bar mentions an after party, make sure you know who they are, where you're going, and what the plan is for leaving.

So many girls and guys really don't have their safety in mind when they go out to party all night. They don't imagine that there are people out there who don't have their best interests at heart, or they've been so sheltered that they've never been in situations where their safety is jeopardized.

This might sound soap boxy, but it's your responsibility to take the reins of your well-being into your own hands. Don't take your safety lightly. It's imperative for younger adults to recognize that once you start going out to bars and meeting people outside your friend group, that sometimes those people you meet are not good people. This isn't Kansas anymore, it's easier for people to disappear. It's easier for people to acquire drugs in order to drug you with. And when your and your friend's judgement is impaired through alcohol, it's a whole lot easier for you to put yourself into situations where bad things can happen.

So while I don't want to scare anyone from going out and partaking in the enjoyments of the DC nightlife (seriously not my intentions DC is FUN at night). I want people to understand that you need to take precautions for your safety. So have fun, but be safe.

Ruby Tuesday - Lookin' for some Bow Chicka Bow Wow

A few weeks ago I was waiting on a friend to drop off my car keys to me at a Ruby Tuesday, because he was getting my car washed by some girl scouts in his neighborhood - trust me my car needed it; it was disgusting.

As I waited, the ensuing conversation happened with a man at the bar.

"LoRo you a gorgeous girl, I mean I'm sitting here looking at you and thinking, wow I wanna know what it takes to get her."

"Haha, Thank you, but I get what I want; It's not a matter of you getting me. I'm good, though, I'm waiting on someone."

"LoRo, lemme aks you.. What do you do, to get a guy. Like say you want to bring him home or have some fun."

"Haha, um, I'd text him like I'm doing now to my 'boyfriend,' and I - uh - wait for him to answer me back, and then I leave."

"LoRo, don't play that. I can tell that you're a shark, because I'm a shark. And sharks we belong together."

"No, Sharks shouldn't swim in packs, it's dangerous, but I'm gonna close my tab... ZEB (bartender) Can I close?"

"I bet you think you're going home to a shark. Honey, if you aint swimming with the big sharks, then you should stay out the water."

"Oh He's a shark, a hammerhead and I'm not a shark, I'm a, uh... sting ray, so we're good. not me and you, but me and my 'boyfriend'" (mental thought, "who needs to stop going on runs when he's supposed to be giving me my car keys").

"LoRo, he's a guppy, you need to come home with a true shark. I was in the Navy you know."

"Oh, well that's nice, I'm sure, but I really need to go," (Mental thought - "because you being sketchy is all of the sudden going to just go out the window as soon as you mention a branch of the military").

As I walk away from the bar he shouts after me, "LoRo don't think I'm letting you go this easily, I want you."

Welcome to my life. ALSO, Who goes to Ruby Tuesdays looking for some action!? Really? And what kind of man double fists Long Islands at 5 o clock in the evening?
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I meet a lot of people. On average, a human will remember and mentally store on sight nearly 10,000 faces in their lifetime. Personally I think I've hit that quota, but clearly a higher power thinks I'm missing some key awkward/creepsters in my rolodex.

I posted my awkward encounter on Facebook and literally every other comment was, this always happens to you or welcome to your life, for the past 8 years.

It's true I collect random people. But where is the border between wanting this new awkward friendship and rejecting advances no one in their right mind would try.

I recently read a blog by DATE ME, D.C. which is about sexual pressure and no means no. Which got me thinking about how often I've been put in these situations.

I can be in a group; I can be solo; I can be in my car; I can be walking through Target; I can be traipsing through Eastern Market, or running to keep out of the rain or literally anywhere. The odds are I'm going to meet someone awkward or creepy. You might think, "not possible," but I guarantee to you my reader that the awkward/creepsters find me everywhere. Ask anyone who has spent more than 24 hours with me and they will confirm. I even meet them surround by my Marine Entourage.

I was out with the boys last Friday, and we were minding our own business - chatting, shooting the shit, when this guy named Dalton (a former marine-dishonorably discharged) comes up to us and starts talking to me about his metal penis (God I wish I was making this up). WHO in their RIGHT MIND, walks up to a girl who is in a circle of at least 5 men, and starts trying to pick her up with his metal penis stories. I'm serious! He said it had numerable talented qualities, (one) it could pick me up, (two) it will never break, and (three) it's made to please women, because he can't feel it. FOR GODS SAKE. REALLY!?!

Five minutes later I was trying to close my tab with a Bartender friend whom I've known for 2 years, when this scrawny stick starts putting his arm around me and purring to me about how he needs to know my name because he needs me right there. I immediately curled into my friend's arms and said, sorry sir I'm with him. The guy however would still not remove his stick hands and had to be removed from the bar.

Needless to say people need to recognize that just because I'm smiling and having a good time, does not mean I want to have a good time with them. And that rule applies to everyone. Just because a girl or guy is smiling and enjoying a night out, does NOT mean they want to be with you. Sorry, just how it is. And if they repeatedly dash your advances, you need to take the hint, and back off. We're not playing hard to get. We're playing leave. me. alone.

No. Means. No. - Stop. Means. Stop. I'm waiting on someone. Means. Leave me the f($* alone.

Almost a Year in the Making

I was in my car singing at the top of my lungs to that 'Africa' song by TOTO. A bag packed in the back with a swimsuit and a change of clothes, along with my ENTIRE makeup bag, because seriously you never know when you'll need it. I was driving on the 495 headed towards Annapolis, and I'm not going to lie; I was nervous.

I've been texting back and forth with Man (yes that's going to be his nickname, because that's who he is in my phone) for a little under a year, and I don't think I'd actually seen him live in the flesh since December or January or February*, maybe. Sure I had seen more recent pictures of him, which I received one night while with my chikas, and we subsequently all drooled a little, because while he had been quite attractive to me, these new pictures made him look like an Adonis. And while I think I'm attractive, I don't think I'm the equal to an Adonis, so I downed an entire lemonade-glass-from-the-fair full of sweet tea on the way there, thinking, this could be awkward or this could be good.

So we swam, and we drank, and we laughed, and I got a bath from his dog (seriously the pup could not and would not stop licking me - she licked my legs, my arms, my hands, my dress, my face, my feet, EVERYTHING) and we ate junk food, and we watched Up in the Air with his friend passed out on the couch behind us.

But before long the movie ended, and Man slid his arms around me slowly, the darkness enfolding our bodies. I could hear him smiling and feel the warmth of his breath on my nose. His giggles cut through the humidity cloistering around us, but slowly our noses touched and then I felt his beard slide over my cheeks and chin, till the breath slipped from his mouth and into mine, a sickly sweet cigar breath lingering on my tongue.

"Wait a minute, is my beard bothering you?"
"No, no it's fine."
"You sure?"
"It's perfectly fine, I like it."
"Good!" He said as he pulled me the last few millimeters towards his face and rubbed his beard all over my face.

Yes.

I got bearded, and after experiencing the greatest exfoliant known to woman, we fell back into the original pattern amidst laughter and our constant questioning each other as to what was so funny.

What ensued was the most epic. EPIC. first kiss of my life. I have them ranked, mentally and, let me tell you this is definitely number 1 out of a shit ton of people. For the longest time, a guy I only kissed once the first week of my sophomore year of college held the title, unchallenged, but the gauntlet was thrown, and he has been unthroned.

Later, as I drove home, I texted my friend Z something along the lines of, "I would give up every other man on the face of the planet, and wait an entire year, again, if it meant that at the end of it, I got to kiss that man again." After she got over the shock of me, disowning every guy in my rolodex, she sensibly said, "really? you'd give up all guys for that kiss." - She really knows me too well. So I thought about it and sent her back, "I can guarantee no man will ever match that kiss."

Because readers, it's like that line from the movie The Princess Bride, “Since the invention of the kiss, there have only been five kisses that were rated the most passionate, the most pure. This one left them all behind.” I'm not here to say that it tops the kiss between Wesley and Buttercup, but it definitely ranks in those 5 somewhere.

And on top of that, he's a good guy. He's fun, caring, tender, enthusiastic, friendly, outgoing, openminded, and looks damn good in a trucker hat. And you know how many men meet all those qualities (outside of the trucker hat), out of the ones I know, I can count them on one. friggin. hand.

So my trucker hat is off to you sir (mainly because I don't know where it is - it says don't mess with texas though - so if anyone sees it, I'd like it back, I loved that thing). You have astounded me beyond comparable thought.

*update: definitely December because I was relatively taken during the first few months of the year.