mystery

so here's an interesting situation.

first. man gets up from bed
second. man goes into bathroom
third. man locks door
fourth. man turns on shower
fifth. shower runs for 15 minutes
sixth. man turns off shower
seventh. man flushes toilet
eighth. man washes hands
ninth. man comes back into bed
tenth. mans hair and body have not been washed.

a quick note to men everywhere:
you are not as sneaky as you think.

Mr. Cuddle Fish

There's a fun, fancy event on Thursday nights in The City where you can get dressed up - or not - and go drink at the science museum.

Booze & Science.
a match made in heaven.

They dim the lights, pump up the music and put a drink in your hand. Now there's a recipe for makin babies.

As you can imagine, it lends itself nicely to boozing and cruising around the museum with other classy intellectual types. We spent the night on the prowl scoping out other people who are smart, but still like to party. Those are my kinds of peeps.

or so I thought.

While in line for drinks, I carefully eavesdropped on my girl A while she was oh-so-cleverly being hit on.

If that tank breaks, you better watch out. I hear those fish only eat cute girls. You and your friends are in trouble. 


what. a. smooth. talker.
Had he been cuter, of course I would have proclaimed him a genius on the spot.

I'll admit it was borderline flattering, seeing as how I'm one of her friends. In a round-about way, he was complimenting me. And we all know I'll do just about anything for a compliment. or a dollar. or dinner. or a puppy. or a blog post. let's get back to the story...

He introduces himself to The Entourage. We were rolling about 10 deep, he and his friend must have been intimidated. Mad props for approaching us.

Have you seen the Cuddle Fish?


-No, we haven't. what is that?


Oh you HAVE to see it. The Cuddle Fish is the best.


I was not about to lose my place in line at the bar to go find some silly Cuddle fish.
He understood.

Later that night....

We bump into him near the jelly fish tanks.

Oh hey strangers! Have you found the Cuddle Fish yet?


notice two things. yes we really are strangers. and anyone who uses the word cuddle this many times makes me uncomfortable. no exceptions to that rule.

-oh haha, no we haven't found it yet. 

well follow us. we'll show you.

We then proceed to follow these two men, one of whom is unfortunately 5-foot-nothing, into a dark corner of the aquarium. You already know that I have a history of following suspicious men into suspicious places. So this shouldn't surprise you.

oh no. the cuddle fish isn't out. he must be hiding. 

They then stood there in the dark corner, unsure of their next move.

anybody else just get a flash back from 7 minutes in heaven?

no? oh yah me neither.

I wasn't sure of their true intentions. But my feet hurt and oh look at the time. bye.

To make up for the anticlimactic ending, I'll save you a google search.

Baby Cuddle Fish: awwwww

Grown Up Cuddle Fish:

My next boyfriend: That's a cuddle fish tattoo people. a tattoo. 

friend-of-a-friend

While I was doing my online research last week, I came across a familiar face. Well I'll be honest, what first caught my eye was not the familiar face. It was the tuxedo T he was wearing in the profile picture. You already know how I feel about profile pictures.

Note: I had a boyfriend once who wore tuxedo T's like a champ. Hi G-Man. I know you read this.

Alright so I see Mr. Tuxedo T, I make my assumptions. I click on the profile to gather some material for my writing assignment when I notice two things.

A) He's cute.
B) I know him.

In that moment, my Online World and my Real World collided.

mind. blown.

What do you do when you come across your friend's roommate on a free dating website?

You send a saucy message of course.

By saucy I mean bland. I believe we've already discussed my flirting abilities. or lack thereof.

Now I see how it feels to be on the other side of the Sympathy Date.

Holler.

OnlinePredator2

Via Instant Messaging:

OnlinePredator2: you look familiar

oh shit.

OnlinePredator2: maybe ive seen you at a party or sumthin


(you should find this bit hilarious, like I've ever been invited to a party.)

Me: haha, yah maybe. 

OnlinePredator2: where do you live?
(the online-types are always curious to know my location.)

Me: near The Park.

OnlinePredator2: whats your cell?

Me: thats not something im comfortable giving out online, sorry

OnlinePredator2: what do you think will happen? lighten up. 

a. you will tap my phone line
b. you will trace my number to my exact location
c. you will run my license plate number
d. you will show up at my place of work
e. you will break into my garage
f. you will judge my web browser cookies
g. you'll hack my instagram account
h. you'll realize I look nothing like my profile pictures
i. you'll flirt with my friends
j. you'll sleep with my friends
k. you'll friend C$ on facebook
l. you'll judge my coffee consumption
m. you'll text me. ugh.
n. I'm paranoid. the list goes on.

OnlinePredator2: i wouldn't imagine the demand is high enough to warrant alarm

Me: excuse me?

OnlinePredator2 has signed off.

go to hell, you online predator.

confessions of a relationship blogger.

Now that the messages are coming in like hot cakes, (is that the correct expression? how fast would you say hot cakes come in at? 1 or 2 every-other day?)

Regardless, I've got a confession to make.

This isn't easy for me to admit, but everything I know about online dating I learned from You've Got Mail starring Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks.

Translation - I know nothing about online dating. or regular dating really.

Hm...You don't seem surprised.

I'm not embarrassed. I'm sure there are other people who are wondering the same things I am.

Having said that, I'm curious:

- Are there rules for online dating?

- Should I be telling all of my friends that I'm doing this?

- How long do I wait before I reply to a message from a hottie?

- How do you avoid looking desperate?

- How many pictures of myself do I put up?

- Should I include photos in which I'm eating popsicles?

- What about bananas?

- twinkies?

- hotdogs?

- How do you describe yourself in a tastefully confident manner?

- What do you do when you see someone from the Online World, at a bar in the Real World?

- What is flirting and how do you do it?

- When do I start initiating a meeting?

- Or do I wait for the man to ask me out?

- Which comes first - dinner or coffee?

- Is it too forward to suggest meeting at a hotel?

- What do you do when you're surfing for hotties and come across your friend's roommate's profile?

- How do you wear yoga pants all day without getting camel toe?

- Should I have listed blowjobs under the Things I'm Good At tab?

- Why is 69 such a funny number?

- Is it true what they say about the size of the boat and the motion of the ocean?

- What is that a metaphor for?

- Is it normal to love Call Me Maybe this much?

- Where do babies come from?

Thanks guys. It felt good to let all that out.

The Return of Mr. REA

I knew this day would come.
It eventually always does, doesn't it?

You have a new message from Mr. REA. 

I did not anticipate it saying
I miss you. I'm sorry. I want to see you. 

Or maybe I did. I am fabulous.
Of course he misses me.

In the words of some famous person,
'I ain't no holler back girl'.

I can't help but think, WWCBD?

What Would Carrie Bradshaw Do?

sex-crazed lunatics need-not apply

...no seriously.

Last week I was propositioned online to grab hot chocolate down by a popular park in The City.
After carefully reviewing this individual's profile, I came to the sudden realization that he might in deed be a sex-a-holic.

Did I agree to meet him anyway?

Of course. 

Will I do just about anything for a good blog post?

Of course. 

You may be wondering, what qualifies him as a sex-a-holic?

a. he listed threesomes as one of the Six Things He Can't Live Without
b. he listed sex as one of his many Talents
c. he is interested in meeting women who are open to new experiences
d. he is polyamorous
e. that means 'many loves'
f. he is interested in casual sex

So whatever, he sounds cute right?
We agree to meet.

The day before our big date, he messages me to let me know that he is no longer going to be using The Website. He leaves me his phone number and asks me to call him in the morning to confirm our date.

Now here's the part where you're going to be proud of me.

Do I call him to confirm?

Of course not. 


Were you really thinking that I did?

I was not about to let Mr. McNasty be in possession of these digits.

Cha right, no way.

And that, my friends, is how I blew off my first online date.

Impressed?

red lipstick

Is there anything more fun than wearing red lipstick for a night out on the prowl?

Of course not. Red lipstick is the best. 

What's not fun about red lipstick is when you stumble home at 3 am and don't wash your face before you go to bed. Ever been down that road? 

Yikes. 

Nothing quite like waking up with that once-fabulous red lipstick smeared all over your face and white bed sheets the next day. 

Oh good morning Joker, why so serious? 

huh?

To protect the identity of this person I will refer to him only as OnlinePredator1.

I recieved a message from him. Lucky me, I know.

OnlinePredator1: Are you a girl?


My first thought of course was, are you a moron? OF COURSE I'M A GIRL.

Anyway, I held my tongue and replied simply.

Me: Is that your pickup line?


OnlinePredator1 then proceeded to IM me a thousand times blabbing about some trip he just went on. Ugh. SO annoying. I hadn't said more than 3 words back to him when he threw a curve ball.

OnlinePredator1: Let's continue our communication via Facebook or texting. My number is 555-6969. What's yours?

Me: I'm actually more comfortable communicating on The Website for now. 

OnlinePredator1 has signed off. 


That's right, OnlinePredator1, you better sign off. And let it be known that if I hear from you again, I will most definitely sic the people from To Catch A Predator on your ass. I'm sure it won't be the first time.

Stamos: Round 1

Is there anymore more fun than a first date?

But have you ever had to almost call off a first date for any of the following reasons:
a. you hated all of your clothes
b. the stress caused your adult acne come out of hiding
c. your hair wouldn't listen to you because it wears the pants in your relationship

This scenario may otherwise be referred to as an E! Fashion Emergency.

What?

Oh right. Yah, me neither....

I finally decided on that short little brown polka-dot number from Nordstrom. (BFF you know what I'm talking about.) and the red heels. They're my fav. obvi.

Well I showed up late, naturally. 

I had John Stamos waiting almost 20 minutes. 

I'm a real winner. 

The cab ride over made me feel car sick. 

Most cab rides make me feel car sick.

As I've mentioned before, there are certain criteria involved when analyzing whether I will or will not call a date back. All of these things can be assessed within the first 10 minutes:

- you tell me I look nice : check!
- we maintain a good conversation : check!
- you offer to pay : check!
- you make me laugh : check!
- you're dressed appropriately : check!
- you're cute as hell : double check!

Stamos, you passed the test.

Oh and dinner was delicious.

I know you're dying to hear all the dirty deets, but I'm not one to kiss and tell.

Uh except for yes I absolutely am so let's get this party started.

Is there anything more sexy than a man with a clean apartment? Except maybe Brad Pitt in Legends of the Fall, but that goes without saying.

Putting that aside, let's talk something very serious.

samurai. swords. in. the. living. room.

yes friends, you read that correctly.

I'm not sure which was more intimidating, the swords or his massive shoe collection. I was traumatized by both.

Yes, it was a sleepless night. thanks for asking. and I already know what you're thinking. So I'll set the record straight right now. The night was sleepless not from the bow-chikka-wow-wow. But from someone's snoring. 

Hint. It was not my own.

way to go, Stamos.

good thing you're cute as hell.

nocreative4name

Around midnight I recieved this little gem in my inbox, from a Mr. NoCreative4Name.

what good does it do being smart and wanting a smart guy if all you do is put height and looks before brains?


By all means, get what you want, but this is ridiculous. 


I'm curious, Mr. NoCreative4Name, if you enjoy harassing young women online about what they're seeking in a partner. I'd also be interested to know if this is some sort of sick, twisted pick-up line?

Not only do I feel slightly threatened by your tone, but I also can't help but wonder if you've been told once or twice, or many times probably, that you're "smart and fun, but just not cute. or tall". And now you're choosing to take out that pent-up aggression on me and my dating profile.

Based on your profile picture alone, which is indeed a massive close-up, I might be correct about the not cute part. Which is why I'm not entirely sure why you're messaging me in the first place. Except maybe to let it be known that you did in fact not enjoy my profile. Which is odd, because most people do.

oh well. win some, lose some.

As a side note: I do not have anywhere on my profile that I am only seeking tall, attractive, smart hotties. I'm slightly classier than that, come on people. But in all honesty, of course that's what I'm seeking. Isn't everyone?

Mr. NoCreative4Name I don't want to have to attack your character, but if you contact me again I will have no other choice than to call you a fat loser. So beware.

Mr. John Stamos

While I was on the aforementioned prowl with G this past weekend, we were approached by Mr. John Stamos & his friend, Mr. Uncle Joey.
... and then offered PBR's.

That's a Pabst Blue Ribbon, for you fancy folks.

Mr. John Stamos assured me that he wasn't a creep. Those of you who know me, you know I fall for this line quite often. Think about C$.

I've really got to get better at this whole flirting thing. Somebody, anybody - teach me your ways.

Naturally I played the Shy card. That's really actually all I know how to do. I can go from shy to embarrassing in about 8 drinks flat. Less, if they're Long Islands. Or it's a holiday.

Going against the advice of BFF "you never reveal the experiment to the subjects" meaning of course "do not tell men that you started a blog about being single", I slipped up. Mr. Stamos learned within 15 minutes of meeting me that I am a blogger. Oops. I even pulled up the website for him on his iPhone. Double oops.

Uh, except that he loved it and asked me out to dinner.

Or he felt bad for me and asked me out to dinner.

Isn't that what they call a 'win-win'?

Did I mention he's cute as hell?

Saturday night miracle.

On the Prowl

Let it be known that I use the phrase on the prowl to refer to any occasion in which I leave my apartment in search of hotties. So basically, every time I leave my apartment. It's a constant search.

Saturday night, I went out on the prowl with a good friend, G.

For the record, there are just as many weirdos offline, as there are online. We came across some real characters on our night out.

But the good news is, I didn't dance.
You're welcome.

Because my armpits have been unshaven for weeks - oh you read that correctly - weeks my friend. It's an absolute jungle under there. Please, tame your hard-on. This left me with two options: wear a cardigan all night or limit our bar hopping to venues with extremely poor lighting.
We went with the latter.

Who hangs out at dark bars? Creeps. and girls with hairy armpits. and men in houndstooth pea coats wearing studded sunglasses at night. and married men. and men who start fights over spilled beer. and men wearing leather skinny ties. and men whose only pick-up lines are "gotta smoke?" So not only are they not offering to buy us drinks, they're also attempting to bum something off us.

Whoever said chivalry was dead, might have been onto something.

complications

Alright, Mr. AirCobra,

Let's be clear here. Just because I messaged you back one time to let you know I was 'flattered that you enjoyed my profile', it was by no means an open invitation to instant message me every time I'm on The Website. First off, stallion, I am so far out of your league that I don't even know how to break it to you. And now, thanks to you, I find it difficult, if not impossible, to prey on hotties in my area with you messaging me every 2 seconds and that stupid little IM box blinking like crazy. Translation: you are being, what they refer to as, a cockblock. I've noticed that you've also memorized the time frame in which I'm usually online, you little freakazoid. Thank you for spoiling my evening for the millionth night in a row. If you keep this crap up, I'll cancel that sympathy date. Unless you were planning on paying for sushi, then whatever fine. ONE date.

Ugh.

what's in a name?

user names say just as much about a person, if not more, than their profile pictures.

redneckman: pass...

satanicgod666: I'm scared. no, really.

twilightfan_85: Yep. I'm sure you are.

circusasaurus: alrighty, not here to date clowns. sorry bud.

i_am_so_gangsta: sir I can assure you, you are not nearly as gangsta as you think.

2drunk2fuk: so I can already see how our first date will end.

hunchbackman: is this really how you chose to describe yourself?

super_decent: well, which are you? super or decent?

humorouz: the way you spelled humorous practically guarantees me that you are in fact, not funny

fizzixteacher: makes me thankful you aren't an engrishteecha

TheFunnest1: you'd be more fun if you learned how to use correct English

artfulslacker: you sound like the responsible, future-husband type.

imhittingonyou: I've noticed. and what I'm doing is called ignoring you.

chess314: It seems that I've already figured out your favorite pasttime, and the answer is no.

ImAGingerKid: no offence but yikes.

RunAwayFromMe: don't mind if I do

matlockmystery: somehow though, it is no mystery to me why you're available, Matlock.

kobebryant168: one million dollars says that is NOT your real name. liar.

numbnutnation: so is sex out of the question then, numb nuts?

MachoHelloKitty: don't care how macho you are, I say no.

I_Just_Strut: are you a rooster?

onesmarthuman: doubtful.

koolatron: hardly.

CastN0Shadow: yeah ok, Peter Pan

BaBaMeezy: have you any wool? yes sir, yes sir three bags full.

nedrocks: no, he doesn't.

TheGoop: is that a new STD?

dorkusmalorckus: are you seriously wondering why you're single?

hardcuddles: sounds uncomfortable

hornchampion: band nerd alert

iLoveCrepes: and iHateCreeps

TouchMyHair: what? no.

DoOrDonut: wft is a door donut?

aintnotben: double negatives are SO not a turn-on, Ben.

Not-From-MarsSF: but somehow you still strike me as the alien type

_Dr._Acula: nope, not into vampires

urescapefromlyf: I'm pretty sure urondrugzz

Man-O-LoveTaco: no words for this. literally.

Matt_is_a_Geek: Matt is also available, ladies

sapfest: did you by chance enjoy The Notebook?

SanFranPsyko: I will call the cops if you contact me.

seekingbromance: then I'm not quite sure why you're on this site...

LurkonMe1Time: sir, I will lurk on you no times

RhymeswithBay: hmmm... hay, stay, fray, ga-whoah wait a sec!

LeBronsTattoo: I doubt Lebron has you tattooed anywhere on his body.

iheartmarvel: no.

nerdnasty: you sound like my type of guy, you nasty nerd.

thrusty: translation=horny.

snugglesauras: how old are you, 4?

impregnatortron: o.m.g. WTF


any name containing the word dude or the number 69  was, and will continue to be, strictly ignored.


Oh, and you 'mrfuckface', well, you can go F yourself.

Just Do It.

When it comes to attracting men, being shy & hopeful works just as well online as it does offline. Which is to say, it doesn't work.
At least not for me.

Friends, it is time for me to bring out my awkwardness and start messaging some hotties. or average-lookings. It turns out, I'm good at being both awkward and embarrassing. I would venture to say it might be my greatest talent. Ask any of my one-night-stand partners. Ehhh but actually, don't.

So here's to my first power-round of initiations.

Results to follow.

you really aught to try...

Alright, so my favorite part about being single is getting dating advice from my friends. Like they even know what the hell they're talking about...omg jk lolcatz luv U guyz

The best line lately was,
"you just gotta get out there - be active!"

Like I'm not active already. Beyonce please.

So to 'get out there' I ventured to Starbucks to get some work done. Work being a very generous term of course. Spying is really what I set out to do.

I carefully planned out my outfit :

college alumni shirt - to look relaxed
the fake glasses - to look intelligent
jeans - no explanation
moccasins - to look hip
laptop, textbooks, highlighters - whatever.

I sat at Starbucks for 2 hours, spying on anyone and everyone.

These are my observations:

- no cute baristas
- this location is a popular hangout for the geriatric types. aka old people.
- every attractive man who came in had a woman on his arm. oooor another man.
- every non-attractive man was, well, not attractive.
- every woman who came in had on cute yoga pants, which immediately made me self conscious.
- my reflection made me realize I looked more like a disgruntled Liz Lemon than the sexy-grad-student look I was so desperately trying for.

Or perhaps I didn't get approached because I looked too busy. too intelligent, too untouchable.
I probably should've gone into acting if that's the case.

I know if you were here you'd pat me on the back and tell me "Better luck next time, champ".
That's why we're such good friends.

omg. THIS JUST IN...

Guys. I recieved my 2nd message.

I'll share it with you. I know you're just as excited as I am.

Well I am sure you get a ton of messages every day and it's hard to read them all, so hopefully you will read this and even reply. I loved your profile; you are beautiful and I would love to talk more if you are up to it. I am pretty cool, kinda funny (well I have my moments :)). So hit me back, I promise I will make you laugh a lot, or just a little, who knows :p


I'll start by admitting I'm flattered.

Mr. AirCobra thinks that I am receiving so many messages that it's nearly impossible to read them all. I really got a good laugh out of that part. Hopefully you did too. I wonder if he uses that line on all the chicks he picks up online? I'm not too sure how I feel about him making these promises about me laughing at him and all that. Seems a bit pretentious. Don't even get me started on the parenthesis with the emoticon, that's always awkward when they're right next to each other like that. If you have no idea what I'm talking about, then nevermind. I have also never been a fan of the emoticon with the tongue sticking out, just for the record.

So Mr. AirCobra - I'm hoping that sounding pathetic isn't your only pick-up scheme. However, I am also wondering how well it's been working out for you? I'm looking for a technique that yields fast results. I'm actually starting to feel bad for you though, anyone who describes themselves as 'pretty cool' and 'kinda funny' must not have anything going for them. It seems that a sympathy date is in order. So yes, yes I am up for talking to you more.

Well played, Mr. AirCobra. Well played.

a lesson in profile pictures

So hopefully you can tell by now, I'm a girl who knows what she wants... or just a shallow bitch.

Regardless, let's chat about profile pictures.

Because we humans are just visual, physical creatures, I rank profile pictures as the number one indicator as to whether or not I will be pursing a potential suitor.

If the profile is a 'personal ad' (which it is), then pictures are essentially a large part of the marketing scheme. The best part is, you get to choose which pictures go up on your profile. This allows you an opportunity to post the most flattering pictures of yourself that you possibly have.

Having said that, I can tell by profile pictures alone, why some of these men are still on the dating market.

Sorry fellas, but you are so not getting a date if...

- none of your pictures look like they are even of the same person


- you're wearing sunglasses in every picture

- your picture is of you, eating a corn dog


- your picture is you wearing eyeliner, no clothes and a party hat covering up your wiener. I really wish I was joking about this one.

- you're flipping off the camera

- you're sipping on a fruity cocktail

- you've got a beer in both hands (you stay classy, San Diego)

- you're kissing another woman

- you photoshopped yourself sitting on a unicorn

- you're sporting a 'rock on' hand signal

- you're wearing a halloween costume

- your tongue is sticking out

- you're dressed as a woman

- you're wearing facepaint

- you're smoking (or rolling) a doobie

- you're holding a gun/knife/samurai sword/nun chucks or ANY OTHER WEAPON

or if these are your pictures:

sorry stud.

the art of being picky

Although I'm typically a pretty flexible person, being picky is definitely something I've learned to be good at. A big shout-out & thank you (or an F-you, it depends) to all of my previous relationships, for helping me learn what it is that I am certainly not looking for. And a little bit of what I'm seeking.

You may find yourself wondering, 'Well what are you seeking?' After only a few hours of surfing the online dating pool, I have compiled a general sense of what to pass & what to pursue. Unfortunately for me, the ones I've chosen to pursue have yet to contact me back. Nothing quite like being rejected on a free dating website. More on that later.

In what I refer to as the Real World, generally speaking I have a list of criteria when it comes to looking at whether or not a second date is in order.

Will call you back:
- you tell me I look nice
- we maintain a good conversation
- you offer to pay
- you make me laugh
- you're dressed appropriately
- you're cute as hell

Will not call you back:
- your finger nails are longer than mine
- your finger nails are dirty
- you tell me you have a pet cat
- your teeth make me gag
- you're unemployed
- you have hair where it shouldn't be
- you're balding
- you tell me you love disney movies, or musicals
- you throw a recyclable item into the trash can
- you tell me you hate dogs
- you tell me you're obsessed with dogs
- you have a barb-wire tattoo on your biceps
- you leave your phone on the table during dinner

Will call the cops on you:
- you follow me home
- you show up at my work
- I google your name and the results scare me


In what I refer to as the Online World, I have now created a separate list of criteria when it comes to passing or pursuing men.


Pursue:
- ages 25-30
- single
- employed
- cute as hell

Pass:
- you refer to your beard as "face tentacles"
- you include baby pictures on your profile
- you mention anime. at all. ever.
- you have a unibrow
- you admit to loving pro-wrestling
- you have children my age
- you physically resemble any of my high school band directors
- you admit that on friday nights you enjoy "being a werepanda, roaming the streets of The City, in ravenous search of bamboo" I'm sorry. WTF
- you admit that you "aren't really a werepanda, it's just something I say to impress potential dates"
- you list sex as your favorite activity
- you're 30 but look 13
- you have facial tattoos - including the neck area
- your user name is 'mrfuckface'
- you list dandelions as your favorite flower
- you describe yourself as a 'dorkiosaurus rex'
- you're 25 but look 45
- you mention sex 3 or more times in your intro
- you're under 5'11"
- you have poor grammar or didn't use spell check

BLOCK:
- you ask for my address
- anyone who lists threesomes as one of the '6 items they can't live without'
- you send me a message telling me that you'd like to 'give me a sensual full-body massage with a happy ending'


It is possible to be both picky and desperate?

24 hours later...

my first message. it's a juicy one. brace yourself.

"id love to give you a nice relaxing full body sensual massage with a happy ending :) "

all two (aka both) of his profile pictures feature the area from his neck to his lower abs. He is clearly not wearing any clothes. not even undies people! Face is not visible. I don't care how 'happy' your massages end. No face, no date. Sorry perv, that's the rule.

It also states here you are 5'6''.

gracias, pero no gracias, shorty.

Step two: Plan of Attack

Well friends, to solve the aforementioned dilemma of the Post College Dating World, I have gone against the advice of my forefathers and created an online dating profile.

gasp.

I know what you're thinking. Online dating is only for unattractive social rejects. This may be true, but it is also for working professionals and cute babes such as myself who are just not having any luck going all naturale. 

Having said that, I'm still not totally sold on the idea of interweb relations...but I am willing to try anything once. Unless its weed. They say you typically don't get high the first time, so I'd have to go back for seconds on that one. And then directly to jail of course. 

But let's stick to the topic. When it comes to cyber-dating, you're essentially presented with two options: pay for the service, or don't. I was never a fan of buying my friends, or paying for sex, so I naturally drifted to the freebie. 

I created a profile. I wrote some witty things. I posted a few of what I consider to be flattering pictures of myself. Which gave me the opportunity to lie about my weight - to an audience of men who I KNOW are lying about their height. and income bracket. But who am I to judge?

Anyone who knows me knows that I am most certainly one to judge. Because I am a visual learner, I will begin by judging on the ability to post a decent and accurate profile picture. Followed closely by employment history, and then cross my fingers that they don't still live at home. 

A girl can dream, can't she?

I know that after my encounter with C$, you are probably doubting my ability to think logically around men. Or even my IQ in general. I don't blame you. I'll earn your trust back eventually, right? 

I'll give you some time to think it over. 

So if that's not the recipe for a pretty entertaining blog topic, well then I don't know how to cook...which is actually an accurate statement. I've thrown up from eating my homemade dinners. Oh how I desperately wish that wasn't a true story. And now I'm slightly embarrassed that I even shared that with you. 

Oh well. Here I am...single and ready to mingle through the firewalls and privacy settings of the World Wide Web. 

Let the games begin. 

dilemma.

Update: By now I've gone out to enough sympathy meals with my girlfriends to convince myself that I did nothing wrong by ending things with Mr. REA...not that I feel any better about it. But we've all been there, right?

New Subject:

Dating in the Post-College World has proven to be more challenging than dating in the College World. Can I get an amen on that?

...Bueller? ... Bueller?

No? Ok, let me break it down for you.

College World dating goes a little something like this:

See cute boy in class. Gradually move closer. Ask to borrow pen. Pretend to need help. Organize study session. Become partners for important assignment. Meet on the weekends to work on said project. One thing leads to another. Wake up in boys dorm room. End of story.

Simple.

The Post-College World is full of creepos and cheesy pick up lines. And married men without rings on...tricky! Let's not forget all the grown-ass men that 'just don't know what they want', which we all know directly translates into "I do not want YOU". Those kinds are the best...psych!

And if you're like me, (translation: middle schoolers have bigger breasts than you do. Just call me Ms. Nearly A), things can get especially annoying. It's difficult to get men to approach you at a bar if they don't think you look old enough to be there. And the ones that DO approach you, those are the pervs to watch out for.

Trying to pick up hotties at my work is a no-go. Already been down that road. Yikes.
Picking up hotties on public transportation results in transients asking for money. UGH.

So what do you do? Well, I joined the good ol' YMCA in an attempt to meet hotties. or at least spy on them in the weight room.

When I say I "joined the YMCA" (henceforth referred to as the 'Y'), what I really mean is I went back (with my tail between my legs) and re-activated my previously existing membership. You see, I've tried this trick before, using the gym to meet people. However it was a short-lived experiment because as soon as I invested in an iPhone, the Y membership was the first item on my budget-cut. My waistline was the only one who suffered.

Big news! My birthday is rapidly approaching. No need to plan that surprise party I've always wanted, I'm already in the beginning stages of planning my Quarter Life Crisis, complete with public breakdown. Get ready for it.

Lets call him C$

Hoooookay. Let me just start off by saying, I NEVER do what I am about to tell you that I did. Except maybe if my self esteem is low and I'm feeling exceptionally lonely. maybe.

It appears last night just so happened to be one of those occasions. Luckily for you. I hope you like to read.

So last night I went to dinner with a good friend to complain about men, naturally. For the sake of privacy let's go ahead and call this good friend M. M and I went to our favorite date-night restaurant. (side note: restaurant is a word I can never spell right the first, second or third time. Now you know a little bit more about me). I'd been out of town for quite some time, so a large chunk of our date was also dedicated to explaining how things with Mr. REA happened to fall apart. We spent most of the night complaining about how difficult it is to meet men in The City. typical topic of conversation for us. And as always it's a fabulous time. We say our goodbyes and walk in opposite directions towards our respective apartments....

Back story - I live .4 miles from this restaurant. This is approximately 15 minutes walking, 10 if I'm feeling frisky, cold or paranoid. About three blocks from my apartment, a man approaches me on his bicycle. It's 9:45pm.

This man is quite cute in the soft glow of the street light, however this is also the part I mentioned before about how I never do things like this...

For the sake of privacy, although I doubt he knows what that word means, we'll call him C$. (that's pronounced, C-money). Because you will see that he is just. so. baller.

His pick-up line goes like this:

(You'll notice things progress from strange to weird and from weird to F-ing bizarre in a matter of only a few minutes. just bear with me.)

C$: excuse me, hi.
Me: (pulls ear buds out, looks around) hi.

C$: I'm C$, what are you doing?
Me: Uh, hi C$. I'm walking home...

C$: Oh. Do you live around here?

Me: Yes. Do you?

C$: Yes. Do you live alone?

Me: Uh...yeah...do you? (note: never admit this to a stranger. and don't you dare contact my parents to tell them I admitted this to a stranger. I swear they raised me smarter than this.)

C$: Yah yah. I do too.

Me: Cool. What are you doing...?

C$: I'm going home too, I went to get ice cream. 

Me: Okay...

C$: Would you like to come have some ice cream with me?

Me: What?.... Ok. (note: no matter how lonely or desperate for attention you are, never agree to get ice cream at a strangers home.)

C$: Ok great. Um. I have to go clean up my room first. Hold on.

Me: Okay... (note: never follow a man home who says this.) Hold on C$, you aren't some sort of rapist or murderer are you? Just curious.

C$: What? No....Are you?

Me: No.

I'm sure glad I gave him the Creep Test before I went into his house. He passed with flying colors. 

He then had me standing outside of his house for 3 solid minutes while he 'cleaned up his room'. Shame on me for missing my golden opportunity to run.

If his room was clean after he let me in, I would have definitely thrown up if I saw it messy. The place was a disaster. Note: you may remember that he previously stated he lived alone. BOLD FACE LIE.

Futon bunkbed. Lord of the Rings posters. Comic books. Dirty clothes. He even asked me, 'does it smell weird in here?' He really knows how to make a girl feel at home. What. A. Hunk. 

What first caught my attention was the diploma hanging on the wall. And when I say 'hanging' I mean with a thumbtack. and uh, have you ever scanned something and it accidently printed out just sliiiightly off-centered? Well my friends, this 'diploma' was clearly scanned and copied. I'm no dummy, I can spot a falsified document miles away. 

I'll spare you the rest of our direct dialogue only because the drawn-out, incredibly awkward pauses just can't be represented well enough via text. 

Things I learned about C$ in the 15 minutes after entering his bedroom:

- His hobbies include: "I like eating ice cream" and jogging. 

- He works at a liquor store down the street. (note: I will stock up on booze elsewhere from now on)

- He has a girlfriend of 2 1/2 years who won't 'do it' with him.

- He then openly admitted "I've spent a lot of time in here...you know, just masturbating all summer"

- He is 35 years old. 

- He finds me attractive and would like to kiss me. 

To which I said, 'No thanks we just met...' don't worry guys, he understood.

At one point during our conversation (now there's a generous word), C$ turned to me and said, "how do you pronounce your name again?" I died. For a name as common as mine, and as American English as mine, pronunciation is never part of the difficulty with it. I stated both syllables very clearly and slowly for him. 

Now, let me just be honest here. Upon first interaction, I assumed he was drunk. It waaaas 9:45pm on the 4th of July... however, upon further interaction, I'm beginning to think he was more different than drunk. Later, when I recapped this story for my Best Friend Forever, (to protect her identity, lets henceforth refer to her as BFF), she kindly reminded me that I have degrees, credentials and experience that qualify me to recognize and diagnose disorders and delays in humans. Oh how this knowledge escaped me in my time of need. 

With the time I had to concoct an escape route, all I came up with was the good ol' "oh look at the time- gotta go!" line on him and nearly got hit by an SUV crossing the street. 

I'm frustrated with this post because it isn't exactly an appropriate forum to express HOW AWKWARD this encounter actually was. And, once again, I found myself wishing I'd had invested in one of those helmet-cameras to record my day-to-day lifestyle in hopes of someday becoming an outrageous reality tv star. 

Or to at least prove to my friends that I couldn't make this shit up if I tried.

Step one: heart break

Disclaimer: This blog is preceded by my previous attempt to maintain a blog about my favorite topic of interest: special education. This proved to be much more difficult than I anticipated, unfortunately. I had to abandon ship after only a few short entries. 2nd times a charm. Isn't that how the saying goes? 


I've dedicated this new blog to keep my friends & family (and any other online creeps who are interested) up to date on how challenging/entertaining dating in The City can be. 


So here's my story...


I was recently heartbroken by an extremely handsome real estate appraiser after 7 spectacular months of casual dating. Let's henceforth refer to him as Mr. REA. I wanted more, he felt 'pressured'. End of story I guess. Not a happy ending there. Actually a super sad ending, otherwise referred to as a tragedy. For me anyway. I'll spare you the details but here's the main idea: as much as Mr. REA 'likes' me and 'cares' about me and thinks I'm 'great', he can't bear the idea of committing to a relationship. 


And that is what Absolutely. Crushed. Me.


My wine consumption has gone through the roof, so has my rental of rom-coms via his HBOgo account. I'm out of Kleenex. Don't get me started on the empty cartons of ice cream. Oh and Adele is on loop. These are not happy times my friend. 

This situation is of course, also causing me to now attend my brother's wedding solo in just a few short weeks. Nothing quite like changing a +1 to a +none. I'll repair my self esteem later by buying something expensive and fabulous. Or a McFlurry.

And now on to my current situation: Think Kristin Wigg via 'Bridesmaids'. Except that I have a job I love, I don't live at home, I'm not battling for the attention of my best friend, have never shit my pants (in public anyway) nor have I ever dated a hot police officer with an Irish accent. But other than that, we are SO twinsies.

We actually do sort of have the same hair. And that's a true story.