Message Monday – Beer and Snuggling

I’m not even sure why I engaged this guy, considering he messaged me “Hey there want to chat?” which is not a message I’m normally willing to respond to. The only way to put less effort into a message is to just write “Hey.” I will not apologize for wanting guys to put in at least a little effort. But I was bored, and very recently dumped. Recent meaning an hour prior. And his profile didn’t have any red-flags, other than this:

you should message me if

I’ve talked before about how that’s a red flag for me. But, in the interest of patching together my recently dumped, wounded self-esteem, and because he seemed fairly normal, I responded.

Snuggle dude

I couldn’t, you guys. I just couldn’t. That suggestion made me want to crawl out of my skin. And not just because of the Woodpecker

This interaction isn’t actually that interesting or funny or generally blog worthy. He was just a guy with poor messaging skills and an affinity for using smiley faces. But the shame spiral that this message contributed to did seem blog worthy. A shame spiral that prompted me to question whether or not I need to see a therapist about this aversion to physical contact of mine. I mean, I’m still horrified by how seemingly mainstream hugging strangers appears to be. But between this message and the fact that, while home in NY for a christening recently, my friend apologized for giving me a hug when I was saying goodbye, I started to panic that there’s something seriously the matter with me. I don’t actually hate hugging the people that I care about, but they seem to think that I do. Which makes me feel like an asshole. Hugging certainly isn’t my first instinct, but sometimes a hug from a loved one is nice. I’ve come to terms with the fact that hugging is something people do when they care about each other. I even occasionally will be the one to initiate a hug! Do you like how I just said that as if it’s something to be super proud of? Like “look at me, on rare occasions I hug the people I love! And I don’t even hate it! God, I’m such a warm, loving person!” 

It occurred to me that I should probably also come to terms with the fact that snuggling/cuddling is something people who are in a romantic relationship tend to engage in.

Typing that sentence made my physically shudder, so clearly I haven’t gotten very far in my journey of acceptance. What if I never come around to it? Who wants to date someone who doles out hugs once every blue moon and is repulsed by the idea of snuggling? 

Oh God, I’m going to die alone.

fuck it i'm inadequate what can you do (wheninlawschool)

Source: #wheninlawschool

Quite possibly the most accurate tagline for my romantic endeavors to date…

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In Case You Didn’t Yet Have Your Fill Of Reading About People Getting Dumped…

Welp. It seems 2/3 of the StuCu ladies currently reside in dumpsville.

sad-pug

Source: Mashable

I don’t even know if I can technically call myself dumped, we weren’t exclusively dating. But “that guy I went out with for a little over a month decided our living situations weren’t conducive to dating” is kind of a mouthful. So dumped it is.

Let’s start from the beginning, shall we? I messaged D (maybe we should just avoid guys whose names start with D?), and although it took a little longer than normal to make the first date happen, for a variety of reasons, that first date was great. We hit it off and had a great time. The end of the date was inevitably awkward, but he texted me about 20 minutes later, and he kept in touch while I was down in DC for my best friend’s wedding. He planned a second date based on something he remembered me saying, and we went on a handful of other dates after that. All of them were great, though the ends continued to be a little awkward. At the end of one of our dates I didn’t think he was going to kiss me, so when he moved in for the kiss I was so surprised that I said “Ohh! Ok!”

Smoooooooth!

I’m kind of an awkward person anyway, so none of this was surprising. Despite the awkwardness, things were going well. I was having a really good time with D, I was definitely attracted to him, and he was sweet and thoughtful and funny. Things were normal on what turned out to be our last date, last Saturday. He even started out the date with a little gift. During our date he asked if I would help him with something in a few weeks. We threw around some ideas for stuff to do next time. And for the next 2 days everything seemed good. But then I didn’t hear from him at all on Tuesday, which was unusual. And when I texted him at the end of the work day, his response was brief. Wednesday was the same. Radio silence all day, and no response when I texted him mid-afternoon suggesting an idea for this weekend. This departure from the norm seemed strange, and I even mentioned to S that afternoon that I had a weird feeling that D was going to fade away. I was all:

start panicking

Source: The Ultimate Gif Database

But a few hours later I heard from D, prompting this exchange:

2014-04-25 12.48.31

Ohhhh ME. Not so fast me. Not so fast.

My relief was short lived. A couple texts later I received this:

2014-04-25 13.02.50

That is never a good sign. I knew then what was coming. Like the mature adult I am, I wanted to do this:

Penny

Source: The Ultimate Gif Database

But instead, I said yeah, and a minute later he called me. The gist was: you’re great and I’ve been having a good time with you, but our living situations aren’t making this easy, and that’s not changing for a couple months, so I think we should just go our separate ways.

Blech.

I’ve mentioned before that I moved out to the ‘burbs at the end of last summer. What I haven’t mentioned is that I moved into a fairly unusual living situation – the spare bedroom of some friends, down the hall from their 2 (completely adorable) kids. I had my reasons, and it’s worked out well for the past 8 months. I’ll be moving out at the end of this summer, which was always the plan. A lot of people asked how that might affect my dating life, which I usually shrugged off because I assumed that anyone I started dating would have their own place, with or without roommates.

Enter D, who did have roommates, just not the kind I thought. He currently lives at home. He too has valid reasons for doing so, and has plans to get his own place later this summer. But for now, he’s residing in his childhood bedroom. 

So yeah – our living situations were kinda cramping things a little bit. We had tentatively decided that we would hang out at his house (he’s never seen Arrested Development, which is an actual crime). I don’t really know what made him change his mind about that between Monday, when things were still normal, and Wednesday, when he ended things. Was I super thrilled at the prospect of hanging out at his parents’ house? Obviously not. But I understood why he was living there, and I liked him enough that I was willing to navigate that awkwardness. But he wasn’t, so…

I’m not heartbroken over this. Like S, I didn’t have a feeling like “no – this is wrong, this is a mistake.” But I also didn’t feel like it was right either. Granted it was still early, but I was into him. Following what ended up being our last date on Saturday afternoon, I went on an impromptu first date with another guy (2 dates in 1 day – stay tuned for that story!). And the first thing I did when I got home from that date was text D. Although I had a few reservations (for lack of a better word), that evening date with the other guy made me realize that I really did like D a lot. I think that, had our living situations been different, this might have actually gone somewhere. Who knows where, but I would have liked to explore that possibility. And that’s the part that sucks the most. That the timing was all wrong, so now I’ll never really know what could have been.

Actually, that last part is a lie – it’s tied for most sucky with the fact that, right before D called me, I had just finished making my dinner. My dinner of a spinach, shrimp, avocado and cucumber salad. Though healthy, that’s NOT a good I-Just-Got-Dumped dinner. I hung up D and stared longingly at the box of Kraft Mac & Cheese (spirals obviously – they hold the cheese better) in the cupboard. But that stupid spinach salad was already made. SALAD. Who the fuck wants to eat salad after getting dumped?

Even though I’m not heartbroken, getting rejected sucks. Yesterday started out with a stomach-ache at 9:30 a.m. from eating an embarrassing amount of berry sour patch kids. But I secured tickets to the fall Boston Calling festival, my sister and her boyfriend were in town for the Sox/Yankees game last night so I got to grab a beer and an exlusive Pub sandwich with them before the game, and my sister surprised me with the news that I’ll probably get to drag her deadbeat ex-boyfriend into court (I like to pretend that the fact that I’m a lawyer makes my love of conflict healthy, and not troubling). I couldn’t ask for better cheer-me-ups than those.

Message Monday – How Did You Find That Out?

First and foremost – HAPPY MARATHON MONDAY! 

This year is obviously a special year, and while all you suckers are stuck at work, I’ll be basking in the glory of 60 degree weather and the impressive feat that is 26.2 miles (for others – that’s an impossible feat for me, as I despise anything more intense than a leisurely stroll). And the beauty that is Boston, always, but especially this year. This city is just the BEST. I even have a few friends to cheer on this year! So enjoy those stuffy offices today folks.

Now, on to the business of this blog. The award for most nonsensical message I’ve ever received goes to:

message monday - how did you find that out.

Ummm… You messaged me. But setting that aside, how did I find out what? That honey comes from bees? That the earth is round? That Marathon Monday > Christmas? That you’re a weirdo kleptomaniac that I have no interest in talking to? The answer to that last one is easy my non-friend. A quick view of your profile told me that.

Message Monday - what I'm doing with my life

First of all, this makes no sense whatsoever. What does any of that car talk have to do with living somewhere warm? Second of all, please do move. The fine state of Rhode Island will be better off without you. Also, no one cares about your weird business problems.

Message Monday - I'm really good at

You’re really good at stealing? And crappy investments? Way to sell yourself buddy. Those are certainly the first things I look for a man.

message monday - the first thing people notice about me

I think YOU’RE the racist in this scenario.

Message Monday - Favorite books, movies, shows, music, and food

Is this gay River Monsters talk supposed to be endearing? Because it’s actually just creepy. Also, Lord of the Flies sucks dude.

Message Monday - the most private thing I'm willing to admit

 

Shut your face about Apollo 13. That movie is the gripping, true life tale of survival and NASA geeks becoming heroes. It WAS your finest hour, Ed Harris. It was. You’re an asshole, and I hate you for repeatedly falling asleep during that cinematic masterpiece. In fact, your lack of appreciation for the superfecta that is Tom Hanks, Bill Paxton, Kevin Bacon, and perhaps most importantly, Gary Sinise, is easily the most offensive part of your profile.

Ugly Truths About Modern Dating

This article, 18 Ugly Truths About Modern Dating That You Have To Deal With, recently popped up in my facebook newsfeed. Curious, I clicked on over, and was super bummed out about the world by the end of the article. Because a lot of it is painfully true. Or used to be.

1. The person who cares less has all the power. Nobody wants to be the one who’s more interested. Oy – starting off with a hard punch to the gut. This one really bothered me because I used to put up with it. To an excruciatingly painful degree. On more than one occasion. And if I’m being completely honest, this exact point had me pretty messed up for a really, really long time. There is one particular guy out there who I have been powerless around since I was 16. Even after we stopped being a part of each others lives, years ago, his memory continued to have a lot of power over me. Even though I can confidently say that I’m completely uninterested in any romantic relationship with him, I can’t confidently say that if he were to knock on my door tomorrow he would no longer have any power. I hope that would be true, but I just don’t know. And that scares me.

This post is starting out in a really heavy, dark place. Here, look at this adorable gif of Adam Levine holding a puppy:

celebrities-with-puppies-adam-levine

Source: sheknows.com

I don’t know about you, but that link of 20 Adam Levine gifs just made me feel a whole lot better. Sorry/not sorry S, I know you think he’s gross, but you’re DEAD. WRONG. He is every kind of delicious. 

Back to the super depressing article about how much dating sucks. As much as I let the above happen in the past, I am extremely cognizant of not letting it happen again. Because that shit was fucked. up. Do I expect everyone I date to be exactly the same amount of interested as I am, at all times? No. That’s not reality. There will be times when I’m more into a guy than he is into me, and vice versa. And it’s easier said than done, definitely, but that imbalance doesn’t have to equal power. I’m not going to wait around too long for him to figure out how awesome I am. It’ll suck and sting if he doesn’t reach that conclusion, yes. But I know how it’ll turn out if I keep waiting for it to happen. It gets uglier and more painful the longer it drags out.

2. Because we want to show how cavalier and blasé we can be to the other person, little psychological games like ‘Intentionally Take Hours Or Days To Text Back’ will happen. They aren’t fun. Yeah no, I just don’t have time for this shit anymore. We live in a world where people are always in close proximity to their phone. There are lots of perfectly legitimate reasons why someone might not respond immediately. But if I notice that it’s starting to become a thing that it takes you eons to respond to my texts, then I’m done. Don’t get me wrong, I’m certainly not above raising the threat level to orange and scrambling some jets when he doesn’t respond within a few hours (see #10). But I’m also not above cutting him loose after he does it a few times and I get the impression it’s just to play the game. I am better than that.

3. A person being carefree because they have zero interest in you looks exactly like a person being carefree because they think you’re amazing & are making a conscious effort to play it cool. Good luck deciphering between the two. PREACH.

4. Making phone calls is a dying art. Chances are, most of your relationship’s communication will happen via text, which is the most detached, impersonal form of interaction. Get familiar with those emoticon options. I’m not crying any rivers about this one. I hate talking on the phone with anyone other than my immediate family and my close friends. And even beyond that personal dislike of phone calls, texting is more convenient. Want to make some plans? Want to let someone know you’re thinking about them without being that asshole talking loudly on their phone on the T? Want to relay a funny anecdote? Texting is great for all of that! Can texting be detached and impersonal? Yep. But it can also be a great way to stay in contact with your significant other throughout the day. Just don’t get familiar with emoticons. They suck.

5. Set plans are dead. People have options and up-to-the-minute updates on their friends (or other potential romantic interests) whereabouts thanks to texts & social media. If you aren’t the top priority, your invitation to spend time will be given a “Maybe” or “I’ll let you know” and the deciding factor(s) will be if that person has offers more fun/interesting than you on the table. Another one that I used to put up with. But I’ll be damned if I put up with this anymore. It’s taken me longer than I care for it to have, but I’m finally pretty happy and secure about who I am. And while I may be a lunatic, I’m also a pretty great person. If you don’t want to commit to plans with me because something/one better might come along, that’s fine and that’s your right. But I’m not going to keep trying to make plans with you. Because there are people out there who do want to spend time with me.

6. Someone who hurt you isn’t automatically going to have bad karma. At least not in the immediate future. I know it only seems fair, but sometimes people cheat and betray and move on happily while the person they left is in shambles. Life is a bitch, yes, but I don’t really think this is a truth about modern dating only. This has actually always been true.

7. The only difference between your actions being romantic and creepy is how attractive the other person finds you. That’s it, that’s all. I mean, this is more true than I care to admit. Mostly because I’ve been the creepster more than often than not.

8. “Let’s chill” & “Wanna hang out?” are vague phrases that likely mean “let’s hookup” — and while you probably hate receiving them, they’re the common way to invite someone to spend time these days, and appear to be here to stay. First of all, if any guy ever says to me “Let’s chill,” chances are pretty good he lives Allston/Brighton, has street signs decorating the wall over his enormous oversized leather couch, and reminisces about his frat days (which were only 2 years ago). And my answer will be, “thanks but no thanks.” Though it is true that this kind of informal invite to “hang out” is the norm these days. But is that really the worst thing? It’s not eloquent, but they are still asking to spend time with you.

9. Some people just want to hookup and if you’re seeking more than sex, they won’t tell you that they’re the wrong person for you. At least, not until after they score your prize. While human decency is ideal, honesty isn’t mandatory. Yeah, this is totally true. And it’s a real bummer.

10. The text message you sent went through. If they didn’t respond, it wasn’t because of malfunctioning phone carrier services. True or false: a couple months ago I worked myself into a frenzy about a drunk text I sent late one night. At 7:19 a.m. (I wake up at the crack of dawn after a night of drinking, it’s the worst), I sent S a text that read “Last night was paved with bad decisions. I want to crawl into a hole and hide.” I sent my best friend a text that read “I want to go back in time, grab the phone out of my hands, and throw it in the river.” Because I’m not dramatic at all. I spent the whole day imagining a host of improbable scenarios about why he hadn’t responded yet. And when he did text me later in the day about something unrelated, I imagined a whole new set of scenarios about how he might have missed that 2 a.m. message professing my feelings. But I did eventually come to terms with the fact that he saw it, and just didn’t respond for whatever reason. Oh well.

11. So many people are scared of commitment and being official that they’ll remain in a label-free relationship, which blurs lines and only works until it doesn’t. I’ve said it many times before, I’ll say it again – “we’re just talking” is opening the door for cheating that technically wasn’t cheating because, hey, you weren’t together together. Yeah, this one is totally true. Deciding when to bring up the exclusivity talk is a fine line. Too early and you risk seeming too intense/desperate. Too late, and you risk either the above, or looking uninterested. I have no words of wisdom on this point. God speed to us all.

12. Social media creates new temptations and opportunities to cheat. The private messaging and options for subtle flirtation (e.g. liking of pictures) aren’t an excuse or validation for cheating, but they certainly increase the chances of it happening. This just seems so cynical to me. Sure it’s a new medium for emotional cheating (and potentially physical cheating), but if the person you’re dating is even looking to do either of those things, isn’t the relationship already broken to some degree? Social media isn’t really the problem, it’s just a place for the problem to manifest itself.

Uh oh, it’s starting to get serious up in here again. Here:

slight overreaction

Source: 31 GIFS What Will Make You Laugh Every Time

That’s better. That is just the cutest thing. And not unlike how I react when I spot seaweed or a spider/insect. Although something tells me when I do it, it’s not all that cute. Anywho.

13. Social media can also create the illusion of having options, which leads to people looking at Facebook as an attractive people menu instead of a means of keeping contact with friends & family. I guess this could be true? It’s certainly not how I use facebook, but maybe I’m just doing it wrong? All this social media talk is making me feel really old all of a sudden.

14. You aren’t likely to see much of someone’s genuine, unfiltered self until you’re in an actual relationship with him or her. Generally people are scared that sincerely putting themselves out there will result in finding out that they’re too available, too anxious, too nerdy, too nice, too safe, too boring, not funny enough, not pretty enough, not some other person enough to be embraced. This is another one that I think is universal to any era of dating, not just modern dating. Being vulnerable is never easy. And requires a certain level of trust. So of course you’re not going to get all of me really early on. 

15. Any person you get romantically involved with you’ll either wind up staying with forever or breaking up with them at some point. These are equally terrifying concepts. Again, not really a modern dating problem. But certainly accurate. The magnitude of this point sank in for my best friend recently, when she said to her fiance, 2 or so months before their wedding: “M, this marriage thing is a pretty big deal. After marriage you either die or get divorced.” Wise words, K. Wise words.

16. When dating, instead of expressing how they feel directly to you, a person is more likely to post a Facebook status or Instagram a Tumblr-esque photo of a sunset with a quote or song lyric of someone else’s words on it, and while it may not mention your name, it’s blatantly directed at you. I mean, this is just comical. Was I guilty back in the day of the AIM away message that cryptically obviously referred to some guy (see #1)? ‘FO. SHO. But now? H E double hockey sticks NO*. And the second a guy I’m dating throws up a facebook status/instragram like the one described, I will slap him in the face and tell him the next time he pulls some shit like that, I’m going to buy him a Lisa Frank diary and some glitter pens so he can be the 13 year old girl that he is in private.

Lisa Frank diary

17. There are plenty of people who’ll have zero respect for your relationship and if they want the person you’re with, they’ll have no qualms with trying to overstep boundaries to get to ‘em. Girl code and guy code are wishful thinking and human code isn’t embedded in everyone. I do think that this is far more prevalent than it used to be, and that just makes me sad.

18. If you get dumped, it’s probably going to be pretty brutal. People can cut ties over the phone and avoid seeing the tears stream down your face or end things via text and avoid hearing the pain in your cracking voice and sniffling nose. Send a lengthy text and voilà, relationship over. The easy way out is far from the most considerate. Dear John letters existed long before the text was invented. Is it a lot easier to break up with someone impersonally these days? Of course. But getting dumped has always been, and always will be, brutal. And some people always have been, and always will be, cowards about it.

I know I started off this post by saying I was super bummed out about the world by the end of the article. And I was. But I also felt better about myself too. So many of these things, that are definitely true, I’m just not willing to deal with anymore. Maybe it only comes with experience and maturity, but I deserve better than all that crap. And I demand better than that. Because you know what, there are people out there who don’t behave like that or do those things. Are they fewer and farther between? Yeah. But I know from experience that they’re out there. So yeah, I go on fewer dates than I used to/could. But I’m fine with that. And I think that’s pretty awesome.

S

*I find it really comical that I have no problem dropping 7,276 F-bombs per post, but when I drafted this post I didn’t just type “hell.” I don’t even believe in hell, so I shouldn’t be afraid of saying it. I don’t understand me sometimes.

PSA to all the self-proclaimed “nice guys” out there

Well hello there! This former MOH is back, and man does she have a ton of posts to catch up on. While I work on all of those, I thought I’d do the world a favor and issue this little PSA for all the “nice guys” out there looking for “no drama.” Lest you think this PSA is to tell all those guys to cut those cliched lines out of their profiles, I actually want them to leave them in. Because I see those seemingly positive tag lines pop up, and I don’t think to myself: “FINALLY! A nice, drama free guy!” I am jaded, such that now I immediately think: “Mentally ill, move on.” So I encourage those guys to keep on keeping on broadcasting their baggage for all the world to see. But I’d also like to explain to them why I reject them when they message me. Because if I had a nickel for every time some guy with those lines in his profile wrote to me, I turned him down, and then he lost his shit on me, I bet I could make my student loans disappear. Now I can just refer them to this post and wipe my hands of it.

This past Sunday night, as I was returning home from my MOH duties in DC, I got a message from one such guy.


judgemental nice guy 1

I was in the middle of wrangling my bags to the cab stand, which was made more difficult by the fact that I was carrying around a to go box, in addition to all my other crap. If you’re ever in the vicinity of Dulles airport and need food, I suggest getting the Alehouse Mac and Cheese at Dogfish Head Alehouse. It’s so good, it’s worth carrying back from VA to MA for lunch at work the next day. Anywho, I was juggling too many things, and forgot to check him out and respond until Tuesday. I was fairly certain I was going to respond with a “thanks but no thanks” based on the fact that he called me sweetie, but I still checked him out just in case. And sure enough, I was not interested.

Back to the sweetie thing for a minute, while we’re doing PSAs. Why the fuck is this such a popular move by men? I get it all the time. It’s gross. You’re a stranger. Sweetie is an affectionate pet name my mother and great-aunts are allowed to call me, and no one else. I don’t like it in general, but it also just sounds skeevy coming from a stranger. Just stop.

Ok – back to the message. Stupidly, I responded to this guy. And immediately, he began to further profess his “nice guy” status. 

judgemental nice guy 1

Ugh. I get it, you’re awesome but girls always go for the hot, bad boy right? And that’s not you, so you’re left in the dust all alone like a little wounded bambi. Blah. Blah. Blah.

There was no reason to respond further, so I just let it go. Until 8 1/2 hours later, when I was arriving home, and found that he had some more things to say to me. I’ve gotten this before, and I’m sure I’ll get it in the future too. I typically don’t respond, because there’s no point, but I was so annoyed this time that I just snapped. 

judgemental nice guy 2

I was furious. I had in fact made some judgments about him based on his profile, but a) I didn’t share any of them with him because that would make me an asshole, and b) ironically enough he’s actually a decently good looking guy and none of my judgments related to his looks. Which is the only judgment he assumed I made. I wanted so badly to tell him all of the things that I actually had judged him on, but I am socially aware enough to know that it’s mean to tell a stranger all of things you think are wrong with them. So instead, I’m going to tell you guys. Cause that somehow makes it less mean. Right? Good, glad you agree.

First, a couple screen shots from his profile:

judgemental nice guy 3

judgemental nice guy 4

  • Though I’m not actually judging you for having a child, I’m not interested in dating someone with a kid. 
  • Although I too am ultimately looking for a long term relationship, I’m not necessarily looking for that with every guy I go on a date with. Some people are fun to date just for a little bit. If you’re announcing that all you’re looking for is a long term relationship, that just seems desperate to me. I’m afraid that if you like me even just a little bit, you’re going to attach yourself to me and suffocate me. Figuratively, and potentially literally, based on your insane behavior messaging me.
  • If you have to say you don’t want drama or games, that means that you’re either a) extremely damaged from such antics in the past, or b) that you’re actually the one causing the drama and/or games. Either way, no thanks. Also, while I’m certainly not interested in playing games, I can’t promise no drama. It’s in my blood. I mean, I recently thought I was going to die of a blood clot. Apropos of nothing but a little bit of leg pain.
  • “I am not a typical type of guy I AM NOT LOOKING FOR SEX , There is much more too a relationship then just sex.” This is true, but Jesus christ buddy. You are a hot mess. You know who does like sex? (Avert your eyes mom). ME. Is that all I want? No (ehh, sometimes – looking at you Wallet Chain). But broadcasting, in the internet equivalent of screaming, that you’re not looking for sex, raises so many red flags about the amount of baggage you’re carrying around on your back, that I don’t want to touch you with a 100 foot pole. And it worries me that we would never have sex. That’s not a life I want to live.
  • “there is nothing like taking a nice walk on the beach.” The trifecta of the nice guy mantra. “Nice guys finish last, don’t want any drama, love walks on the beach.” 
  • I applaud your general grasp of how to use a period, but that seems to be where the punctuation ends. No apostrophes on the contractions, and weird, random capitalization in the middle of sentences. NO. THANKS. 
  • To v. Too. It’s not even just that he gets the two (HA) mixed up, it’s that he seemingly doesn’t know that “to” exists at all. He exclusively uses “too” in his profile. And he did it in his messages to me too. <—– RIGHT THERE IS A GREAT EXAMPLE OF HOW TO USE TO AND TOO. 
  • If you’re going to accuse me of being judgmental, at least spell it properly.

Those judgments aside, his insane behavior and obnoxious judgment of me is extremely typical of the kinds of things that “nice guys” routinely say and do. There are lots of nice guys out there. It’s the ones who are constantly professing that they’re nice guys that have serious hangups, and actually aren’t that nice.

So, there you have it “nice guys.” The reason that you continue to have no success in the dating world is because you can’t let go of the past, or acknowledge that some girls just won’t be interested, no matter how nice you actually might be. That’s the nature of life. So keep on professing your “nice guy” status – it makes it so much easier to know who to avoid.

Coffee Meets Bagel and The story of the Woodpecker

Remember that groove I was talking about getting back into? It continues to slowly right its course. I’ve progressed from just messaging before things turn sour, to actually going on dates again. Yay for progress!

A few months back, I joined Coffee Meets Bagel. A newer free dating site that I read about. Here’s the gist: profiles are pretty bare bones, and each day at noon the site sends me a new “bagel.” I can only view the profile they send me that day, which consists of a couple pictures and some basic info. I choose like or pass. If we both like each other, we’re “connected” and the site sends us an email, and sends us both a text that we can communicate through for 5 days. This sounded awesome, it’s free, and requires MINIMAL effort on my part. Dating, and online dating especially, is time consuming. And it can sometimes be exhausting perusing profile after profile. This site wasn’t going to make me do a thing. I could just sit back and wait for a match to be sent to me each day! Sign me up!

Cut to a few weeks ago. I had gone into my office on a Saturday to try to catch up on the disaster that was my desk after vacation. I get my bagel, check him out, and click “like.” A couple hours later, I get a notification that we’ve connected! We start chatting via text and plan a date for Tuesday night. But a little while later, he says “why wait until Tuesday, want to grab a drink tonight?” The old me would have scoffed at that suggestion, while righteously screaming “who is he to assume I’m free on a Saturday night?!” But really – who cares? In reality, I had no plans for that night, and this actually took a lot of pressure off the night. No awkward texting for a few days, no nervous build up the day of the date. I was in, with the caveat that since I had spent the whole day at my office, I was wearing jeans and a hoodie (and going home to the ‘burbs to change would have taken 2 hours). He said he wouldn’t judge, and we made plans to meet at a bar out by BC (gross) at around 6.

We met at the bar, and after an awkward hug (ugh – why do strangers love to hug so much? We don’t know each other!), we proceeded to have a pleasant couple of beers. L was a grad student who was easy to talk to. Conversation was interesting and covered a variety of topics. I was having a nice time! After two beers he asked if I’d like to go back to his apartment for another drink.

Now, normally I would have said no to this, as it involved breaking two of the safety rules that I adhere pretty strictly to because I’m a total square. But I figured – hey, I’m doing everything different tonight, and I like him, so why not?! We hopped in his car and he drove into one of the adorable little neighborhoods of Brookline where he rented the top floor of a house. This is where the evening went downhill.

We walked up the private back stairs to his apartment, and the first thing I saw when we entered was a giant piece of plywood and a white sheet covering what he claimed was interior stairs from the house below, while I silently panicked that I was going to be murdered and hidden below the floorboards. The rest of the apartment wasn’t that comforting either. It was sparse. Mismatched furniture that was probably acquired on Allston Christmas. Multiple floor lamps, with cords everywhere. Dirty dishes overflowing out of the sink. Nothing on the walls. A giant leather couch across from a big screen tv. An area rug that was just slightly too big to fit between the couch and the TV stand, so rather than being tucked under one or the other, was just flipped up in front of the tv stand. That bothered me disproportionally more than anything else. I wanted to just get up and fix it. I couldn’t decide if the decor was more junior-in-college or serial-killer.

From a bookshelf, he grabbed a bottle of wine and told me to pick out some glasses. There were six to choose from. A set of rocks glasses, and two sets of highball glasses. Baffled by why these things were on a bookshelf by the front door, rather than in his kitchen on the other side of the apartment, I selected the taller highball glasses and sat down at the end of the couch. He grabbed a corkscrew, and sat down basically as close to being in my lap as he could, without actually sitting in my lap. He followed this up by fumbling around with the corkscrew before putting his arm around me and asking me if I could open the wine.

This was really off-putting to me for a variety of reasons. It is well documented that I do not like to be touched. But more than that, take your time dude. You don’t need to accost me the moment we sit down. I mean, I came back to your apartment, so I’m clearly not totally averse to things progressing that way. But handing me a wine bottle and sitting on top of me like I’m Santa is not the way to make that happen.

After I poured us each a glass, and with him still pressing the entire right side of his body into me, he rested his chin on my left shoulder and said sensually “tell me everything about you.” Oh Jesus. HAHAHA. Is that really your game?

At some point, he noticed the tattoo on my forearm and asked if that was my only tattoo. No, I replied, I actually have 4. “Ohh. Where are your other ones?” I explained where the others were, and mentioned that I’d like to get another one soon. To which he replied “would you ever be willing to get them removed?”

michael jordan dismayed

Look, I know a lot of people don’t like tattoos. And that’s fine. There are lots of things in this world that I don’t like that other people do. And although it’s annoying when people ask if I think I’ll ever regret getting them (I don’t think so, but sadly I can’t predict the future, so I guess it’s possible), his question was kind of insulting. Not “do you think you’ll ever want to get them removed?” But rather, “would you be willing to get them removed?” No. No I would not. I don’t care how much a future partner dislikes them, the only way these tattoos are coming off is if I want them to come off. Because a) word on the street is that it’s more painful to get them removed than it was to get them, and I cry when I stub my toe, and b) if you don’t like them that’s on you, not me.

I didn’t say any of that, I just politely explained no, not unless I decided I wanted them gone, and shifted the topic to something else. And that’s when he made his move.

What’s his move, you ask? His move involved a very brief, limp kiss on the lips, followed by covering my entire face with quick little kisses. And not in a sweet or romantic or hot way. Not just my neck or my cheek or something. Everywhere on my face. Like a chapped-lipped woodpecker. 

There are people out there who claim that “people generally aren’t bad kissers.” This tale is proof that that’s simply not true. 

I did not understand what was happening, so I just sat there like a statue waiting for it to end. When his facial assault continued seemingly without an end in sight, I had to awkwardly speak up. He stopped kissing me, but stayed all up in my business while explaining the secret to being successful at fantasy football until I indicated I was ready to call it a night. After that, any attraction that I had was gone.

Unfortunately, I needed him to drive me back to Cleveland Circle where my car was parked. It was surprisingly not that awkward. He talked animatedly about the details of the research he was doing for grad school, which I engaged in because it was admittedly very interesting. At least, it wasn’t awkward until it was time for me to get out of the car. Because he still thought it went well, and I … did not.

Date Rating: 2/10. I got a couple free beers and specific evidence to rebut the absurd claim that bad kissers don’t exist.

Lessons Learned: Despite the way this particular date ended, I actually really liked the vibe of the impromptu date. I should do that more often!

Celebrating our weird preoccupations: D’s Ornithophobia (also – pie)

Continuing our little mini-series on the important issues we flesh out early on with a potential match, today we delve into my world of irrational fears.

Despite the fact that I’m actually a fairly adventurous person, I harbor an inordinate amount of utterly absurd fears. Some examples: seaweed, fast food establishments that aren’t in their own freestanding building, gangrene, waterskiing, thunder, and death by coconut. That’s just a tiny scratch on the surface. Thus, my need-to-know question stems from one of my biggest fears and is a little less … intellectual than L’s.

You see, I have a debilitating fear of birds. At least this fear is fairly common, and even has a name (ornithophobia), unlike the majority of my other fears.

Time out. When I was looking up the name for a fear of birds, I found this charming little article: How to Overcome Fear of Birds. Fuck you and your condescending, hippy ways wikiHow. “Step 4: Realize that most of your fear is irrational. The chance of a mutant hawk attacking you from above is extremely low.” I read that, and am not comforted by the fact that the chance of that happening is “extremely low.” I read that and internally scream “BUT THERE IS A CHANCE!” And don’t even get me started on Step 6: Face Your Fear. “After a few days of being close to birds, you should overcome your fear.” That’s adorable. After a few days of being close to birds, the only thing I’d be is an inpatient in a psych ward.

Annnnnnywho. I always find a way to work in the topic of birds early on in the conversation with a potential beau. Because, as I explained to a guy recently:

2014-02-14 10.16.42

I have always been afraid of birds. And the universe loves to play on that fear. There is a particularly menacing duck that patrols the shore at my parents’ house. A family friend’s pet bird once bit me. The list goes on. But the most notable instance? December 4, 2012. The day I learned firsthand that you are NEVER safe, not even in your own home. And that magic is real. The day that a bird appeared in my apartment OUT OF THIN AIR. And before you ask, no, I was not dreaming or hallucinating. There is a witness. Because obviously I was incapable of handling the situation. A month later, New Girl mocked my pain with this dramatic, but eerily accurate, re-enactment:


EXCEPT, IT WASN’T “JUST A PAINTING” IN MY SCENARIO – IT WAS A REAL, LIVE MUTANT HAWK BIRD.

I slithered off the couch and dropped to the floor in much the same fashion as Nick above, army crawled out of the apartment, and called one of my best friends who happened to also live in the building. She found me 2 minutes later lying in the hallway, crying. And she handled it. To this day it is a mystery how that bird got in. All the windows were closed. There was no chimney or ceiling vents in that apartment. Which means: it could happen again AT ANY MOMENT. But that beautiful, beautiful saint and I no longer live in the same building. Besides, I can’t rely on her to forever fix all of my problems, like she has so adeptly done for the past 10 years (actually I can – don’t ever leave me LM!). So I need a partner who can swoop into action (pun intended), neutralize the danger, and calm me the fuck down. Not one who will cower in the hallway right next to me.

The ability to “manage” my irrational fears is probably the single-most important quality I look for in a guy. I wish I was kidding.

And here’s a little long-weekend bonus for you. Once a guy has passed the bird test, I also ask “cake or pie?” The correct answer is PIE. Though technically wrong, I will also accept “love them both” or some variation of same. But if his answer is simply “cake” – BYE!

Oh I just realized - I hate you

c                                                                                            Source: Imagesbuddy

How D (Sorta) Got Her Groove Back

First of all, if you ever have the opportunity, go to Iceland. Seriously, do it. If you don’t find it to be stunningly beautiful, you are dead inside.

Second of all, I leave the country for 11 days, and all sorts of crazy, awesome shit goes down at home.  We won an award! We gained 7 new twitter followers! I suddenly became desirable again on OKC and HAW after a drought and months of this:

Isn't there anybody that loves me

                                                                                                   Source: Crushable

I received multiple messages on OKC containing 1 or more complete sentences! 5 guys were interested upon viewing one of my date ideas on HAW and messaged me! Match continued to serve no purpose other than to steal my money and send me e-mails suggesting ways it could steal more of my money! Ok, that last one isn’t actually awesome, but it was oddly comforting – it was proof I wasn’t in some alternate universe. I took all of these positive developments as proof that traveling is the greatest and I should do it even more often than I already do.

But back to my dating developments… I was getting my groove back!

Since I had limited access to wi-fi while away, I was able to respond to messages occasionally. This is where things went a little off track with some of the promising gentlemen. Let’s start with HAW.

First, a crash-course in How About We for those who are unfamiliar with it. Profiles are short and sweet – some demographic info and quick responses to specific prompts (e.g. a story you should remind me to tell you on our first date, I secretly want to be). Then, you post date ideas.

 HAW samples

Users peruse the date ideas and if they see one they like, they open up the date and have two choices: “Message Him/Her” or “I’m Intrigued.” 

HAW - date example

“Message Him” is pretty obvious – it opens up a blank message and you type out your most charming, witty message and hope for the best. Clicking “I’m Intrigued” sends the other user a generic message that says “I saw your Publick House date and I’m intrigued.” It’s the equivalent of liking someone on OKC or winking at someone on Match. The lazy approach to letting someone know you’re interested, and/or the shy person’s way of reaching out.

So, one of my proposed date ideas involves night skiing locally. I got a personalized message from M who ultimately told me to let him know when I was home and we’d set up a ski date. Great right? Well I returned, sent him a message, and got no response in that thread. Rather, he sent me a separate, independent “I’m Intrigued” message 16 minutes later. I don’t know what to do with that. I know you’re intrigued. We already established that. In fact, we already established that we would make plans to go skiing. So why are you ignoring my attempt to actually make said plans, whilst simultaneously sending me messages coyly telling me you’re intrigued BY THE VERY DATE WE ALREADY SET UP?!

That was Wednesday afternoon. I still haven’t figured out what to do about M.

Another guy responded to the same skiing date idea. This guy simply clicked “I’m intrigued.” I checked out his profile, and though he looked vaguely familiar, I brushed it off and responded.

2014-02-06 13.27.23

Ok then.

that escalated

                                                                                    Source: GIFBAY

Side note: I’m obsessed with that gif. I laugh hysterically every time I see it. Ok, back to the regularly scheduled programming.

Setting aside the fact that he called me hun (which – DON’T), he starts off with a nonsensical response. What do you mean “what?” You fucking messaged me. It’s literally 2 messages up in the thread. What is confusing about my response? And when I don’t respond in a timely fashion according to his standards (3 hours, 46 minutes, and NOT A MINUTE MORE), he accuses me of bothering him. Again, you messaged me buddy. It was then, looking at his smiling profile pic next to that terrifyingly aggressive message, that it clicked. He WAS familiar. He’s nylon guy. Shudder.

Over on OKC, I exchanged a few messages with R, who pretty quickly asked if I’d like to make plans when I returned. My kinda guy! I said I would love to. I got back late Tuesday night. Wednesday morning he contacted me to see if I had made it home safely. Very sweet. Then he dropped this bomb on me:

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2014-02-06 23.19.34

I don’t even know where to start with that. For the sake of not being a total asshole on the internet, I’ll simply say that I did not find that poem charming or sweet.

Against my better judgment, when R asked for my number I gave it to him and continued to entertain the idea of going on a date with him.

text with R #1

Oh christ – not another movie date.

text with R #2

WARNING! WARNING!

That last comment is teetering on the brink of needy. Throwing an lol at the end doesn’t make it less needy. And that frowning winky face – what the fuck is that even supposed to convey? 

I forge on though, despite the warning bells going off in my head.

text with R #3

STOP WITH THE VALENTINE’S THING. It’s so desperate sounding. At this point, mid afternoon on Wednesday, I feign a meeting and tell him I’ll talk to him later.

Thursday morning I wake up feeling refreshed after a good, long night’s sleep, see CC for the first time since returning and get a big smile from him, and get into work to a desk completely empty of a particular case. I’m feeling fantastic. So I decide to give R another chance.

text with R #4

Umm? Say what? Tuesday was your suggestion. But ok.

text with R #5

A little while later, he gets back to me.

text with R #6

This was completely befuddling to me. I mean, firstly, I had told him I was available Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday nights. So what made him think I was available mid-afternoon? Not to mention that he’s aware that I’m a lawyer – which is pretty typically a Monday through Friday 9-5 job. Whilst still processing the above, he follows up with a picture of himself and this:

text with R #7

Even if you are joking (I presume that’s what Jc means), coupled with some of the other shit you’ve said (::cough:: valentine’s day ::cough::), I’m getting the impression that you’re extremely needy. And I don’t do needy. A) I don’t have the patience for it. B) If you’re that needy yourself, how are you ever going to field my 11:34 p.m. phone calls that I’ve got a piercing, radiating pain in my left mid-thigh and remember when I fell on my left knee a few weeks ago – IS THIS A BLOOD CLOT ON THE MOVE? AM I ABOUT TO DIE IN A SNOW AND ICE COVERED MBTA PARKING LOT IN SUBURBAN MASSACHUSETTS? Because, shit like that happens frequently when you’re a part of my life. That is a verbatim transcription of the shrill phone call my father received last night. And that saint of a man (along with my 3 EMT friends who also frequently field my hypochondriac freak outs) needs a break dude.

But I’m still feeling high on the freedom from that case and the 3 Kinder bars I ate at lunch (God bless you and your delicious chocolate confections Europe), so I keep going with the Poet.

text with R #8

I realize at this point that not only did he think we were planning a weekday, mid-afternoon date, but he also thought this date was happening in Wrentham. Despite the fact that we had established we would both be in Boston on Tuesday. His complete lack of ability to grasp time and location based on previous discussions snaps me out of my sugar high. This guy is not going to work out. Just to be sure, I ask:

text with R #9

Yup – this guy needs to go. Between the poem and the valentines day thing and his incompetence, I can’t. I was going to need to let R go. Tomorrow. I’m a procrastinator at heart.

This morning, I was all set to say goodbye to R and let this outrageously long post fly. But before I could click Publish, R wanted to know why I had changed my mind:

text with R #11

Yeah – I definitely made the right choice.

Oh, and just for good measure, I was propositioned late last night on the orange line after grabbing a couple drinks with a friend after work. By a guy who I presume is a low level drug dealer or pimp based on the enormous ball of wadded up cash he pulled out of his jacket pocket.

I’m in A groove, but I think it’s the wrong one…

Pic of the Week – Word Play

While L has been regaling you all with tales of her superior messaging/life advice skills, and S has been coming down from the shock of this epic discovery, I’ve just been up here in Boston doing an Oscar worthy impression of a deaf/mute on the commuter rail*, mooning over Tim Riggins, and refusing to go out or do anything that costs money since I’m leaving in a week for a vacation to France and Iceland (because that polar vortex just wasn’t enough for this winter lover). Meaning: I will not be the co-blogger upholding S’s recent promise to you loyal readers of some date stories soon.

I mean, the closest I’ve come to going on a date in the past 4 months was in early December when I went out after work on a Tuesday with my new(ish) co-worker to do some bonding over drinks. Despite the fact that S is cute and very funny, and under other circumstances I would welcome going on a date with him, it was not a date. It simply resembled a date in that we were 2 people at a bar having drinks. As we were relative strangers and work together in a very small firm, he responsibly nursed 2 beers. Meanwhile, I got a wee bit drunk on my drink of choice, Jack and Ginger, and after we parted ways ruined a perfectly good pair of tights in what would be an extremely embarrassing fashion if I had any dignity left (I lost what shred of dignity I had left around mid July, 2012). I guess it resembled a date in more ways than 1. Regardless, I continue to be unworthy of a dating blog, and there will not likely be any date stories in the near future penned by me. But I do have a new work friend, so that’s a plus at least.

Despite my serious shortcomings lately, S & L haven’t kicked me to the curb just yet. So this week I offer an olive branch with a rather delightful pic of the week.

2013-12-27 15.40.25

Did I say delightful? I actually meant crude and unfunny. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a huge fan of word play. I mean, when I made the switch from a droid to an iphone, it was 95% so that I could buy this iphone case:

i mustache you a question but i'll shave it for later

But really? Carpet munching? If this picture is meant to exhibit the triple threat of wit, stunning physique, and sexual prowess, color me as unimpressed as the late, great, Whitney:

whitney houston - not funny

If you noticed that that picture was the second of 2 and are wondering what other gem he has up on his dating profile, I present you with:

2013-12-27 15.40.35

dramatic eye roll

Here’s hoping I get whisked off my feet by a rugged Icelandic lad and live out the rest of my days in the kind of climate few of us truly enjoy…

a

*UPDATE: I did finally manage to break the ice with CC. How, you ask. Flirty banter? A charming anecdote? No. By forgetting that I parked in Walpole that morning, which is one stop before my usual station on the way home, and then missing the stop for Walpole that evening (adding an hour to my commute). Because of course that would be the catalyst for me to finally speak to him like a human being. So although we do interact more now, including an occasional inquiry from CC as we approach Walpole about whether or not I’m there or in Norfolk (I’m now memorable at least), and enough for me to discover that he has a girlfriend of 7 years (through an actual conversation that I was a part of and not an eavesdropper to – GROWTH!), a leopard can’t change its spots. I’m still awkward little ‘ole me, who more often than not reacts to the presence of a nice, entertaining, attractive guy by pleading with my eyes for him to somehow know intuitively that I’m actually funny and charming if he could just make the first move.

D’s Epiphany

I’ve been doing this online dating thing for about a year now. Technically, I set up my OKC profile during Hurricane Sandy, but then I promptly ignored said profile for over a month. So we’ll call it a year. I’ve tested out a variety of sites, went on dates, met some pretty cool people (and some not cool ones), and tried new things/places. But no one has made it past a second date yet. I haven’t even been on a first date since I moved to the ‘burbs back in August. I’m batting .000 on responses to messages I send lately. I was starting to feel like this:

empty room snapchat                                          http://icarly-official.tumblr.com/post/58840878427/oh

And the messages I do receive are either worthless or from older men outfitted in collared shirts and sweater vests standing in front of Lifetouch type backgrounds prompting this uplifting message to S:

text with S where I give up

I respect her open judgment. Clearly I was on a downward spiral. Speaking of watching crying movies, I’ve been doing that a lot lately while moping at home and occasionally stopping at the liquor store on my way home. I have a small arsenal of “crying movies,” depending on what kind of crying I want to do. Love wins in the end: Breakfast at Tiffany’s or An Affair to Remember. The world is a disappointing place and life and love are hopeless because everyone just dies anyway so what’s the point?: Legends of the Fall or American History X. Reminder that everyday, ordinary life is full of awesome things too: Up! or A Cool Dry Place. General cry for no discernible reason: Apollo 13. It’s embarrassing how much use those DVDs are getting.

I took a break from my 2 month pity party this past weekend to do one of my favorite things: binge watch off-air, complete tv series on Netflix. It was the perfect weekend for that activity – a snowstorm was headed our way Saturday into Sunday. I made a huge mug of hot chocolate and started in on Friday Night Lights. And that’s when it happened. My epiphany.

The problem isn’t me.

The problem is that I don’t live in the fictional town of Dillon, TX.

Again, I texted S. But before I got a chance to tell her the importance of my weekend activity, she hit the nail on the head:

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And then she beat the crap out of the nail:

2013-12-16 21.37.20

Everything she said is correct. I only had 1 thing to add. That IS my type, y’all.

Guys – I clearly just need to move to Texas. Or back to upstate New York, where I came from and where that type is plentiful.

Texas forever.