Beef Teriyaki Guy

Posted on May 23, 2014 by D

Unrelated to the topic of this post, but important nevertheless, I must say that I am very much looking forward to the release of “No Dignity”.

Now, to the business at hand – regaling you fine readers with my dating tales. Specifically, the guy S alluded to whose nickname involves Japanese food.

I present to you: The Story of Beef Teriyaki Guy.

Shortly after getting dumped, I received a surprisingly decent message from BTG. We seemed to hit it off, and he quickly asked me if I’d like to meet him for coffee. It was hardly a terrible date. He didn’t insult me, attack my face, or do anything else heinous. But I was pretty underwhelmed less than 5 minutes into the date. For one thing, he had a facial tic that reminded me of my friend’s dad. And no one wants to be reminded of someone’s dad when on a date. Also, he did 90% of the talking. When he did ask me a question, he would immediately follow up my response with a related story of his. Never a follow up question for me. He wasn’t even talking about anything all that interesting. Which was a huge bummer, because we talked a lot about traveling, a topic I usually LOVE to talk about. Traveling is one of my favorite ways to spend my money. But he and I have very different ideas about what makes traveling awesome. He’s the kind of guy who travels for the sake of saying he’s been somewhere, rather than to actually enjoy the culture of the place he’s visiting. I just don’t really see the point in that.

I basically gathered that he loves booking trips with tour companies and only really hits up major tourist attractions. Which is fine, whatever floats your boat, but that’s my least favorite way to travel. He was shocked that on my trip back in January/February, we rented a car and just drove around Europe on our own. That’s my favorite way to travel. Of course I hit up tourist spots, but I like to do lots of other stuff too, and on my own schedule. That other stuff is typically the most interesting part of any trip. He recently went to Dubai, and the only things he talked about were going to the top of the Burj Khalifa and getting a ride in a dune buggy. The world’s tallest building is cool and all, but that’s all you can tell me about?

He also went to China for a couple weeks in college. And he shared precisely 2 things about China: 1) they went to the Great Wall; and 2) he was surprised by how different the food was. The following sentence came out of his mouth: “I didn’t understand – where was the beef teriyaki and the general gao’s chicken? I didn’t even know beef teriyaki was Japanese, not Chinese.”

Source: http://gifrific.com/tom-hanks-saying-really/

Ummmmmm. There are 5,000 things wrong with that sentence. Tom Hanks and I don’t even know where to begin. Aside from the cultural ignorance, he also apparently couldn’t find anything he was willing to try, so he ate McDonalds for the entirety of his trip. Which was made super easy by picture menus, so he could just point to what he wanted. What’s the point of traveling if you’re just going to eat McDonalds? You can do that here. I know all about picky eaters, I grew up with one. But even my sister could have found something she liked in China (hint: RICE). Local food is one of the very best parts of traveling. Unless you’re trying to get a waffle in Belgium, because that was an epic fail not once, but twice. Anywho. I was getting really bored with Beef Teriyaki Guy, and finding it increasingly more difficult to continue being on this date.

And then came the straw that broke the camel’s back. In one of his rare instances of asking about me, he asked where I had traveled to. As you might know from our About page, S and I spent a semester abroad in college. As it happens, that semester was spent in London. And oh my, did I fall in love with that city. He too had been to London, he shared. At the tail end of a trip he took to Italy, he met his parents in London for a couple of days, he explained. At which point he dropped this bomb:

BTG: I actually wasn’t that impressed with London.

Me internally: -8,254,465,687,345 points.

Me out loud: Really? That makes me sad.

This is where I learned about his worst travel habit. He doesn’t do ~~a lot of~~ any research beyond tour companies and the most basic/top tourist attractions. Aside from telling me that it wasn’t until they got home that they realized Stonehenge is only a few hours from London, he said “we saw Big Ben and the London Eye, and then what else really was there to do?”

I’m sorry, WHAT? What the fuck do you mean “what else was there to do?” Is that a serious question?

Source: http://narwhaaal.tumblr.com/post/79189389471

For one thing, Stonehenge is just a bunch of rocks. Granted, I went out there and walked around the rocks, but the trip was coupled with other things in the area (and a tragic story about the demise of a plastic grocery bag). On top of that, the only things you did were see Big Ben and the London Eye, but the thing you’re most bummed about missing is a circle of mysterious rocks in field in the English countryside? With a look of shock on my face, and in a somewhat hysterical, high-pitched voice, I just started word-vomiting various things to do in London. Museums (so many!), parks, theater, markets, food, tea, a fafillion adorable neighborhoods, THE TOWER OF LONDON. Dude, the Tower of London is a tourist attraction gold mine. Also, S, remember our glorious girl-date to the Churchill War Rooms? Best. Date. Ever! Of all the examples I shouted, at the very least the Tower of London should have been on his radar. That list barely scratches the surface, and doesn’t even mention day trips outside the city limits. Because, as Dr. Samuel Johnson so wisely put it, “when a man is tired of London, he is tired of life.” That city is glorious, with an endless array of things to do/see.

Sidenote: I could shout about the the Tower of London all day every day. It’s full of 900 years of amazing history, and adorable beef-eaters. Executions, ghosts, ravens, the crown jewels. Even the bathrooms are interesting. I’ll stop before I get completely out of control.

Where there had been a simple indifference towards Beef Teriyaki Guy, there was now a little tiny seed of hate. Talking shit about London is a cardinal sin in my book. It’s simply not tolerated. Especially by someone as ignorant as he was about what London has to offer.

I changed the topic before I got all howler monkey in public, but Beef Teriyaki Guy and I had nothing in common. Once I steered the conversation away from traveling, he made a couple bad lawyer jokes*, explained his tech job in excruciating detail, and mentioned at least 5 times that he recently got a new job that came with a huge pay increase. Luckily, I had some errands I had to run (I’m a terrible liar), so I said I had to go. He was bummed to hear that, because he was about to suggest that we go play mini golf or something, since it was so nice outside. Naturally, he had thought the date was going great. I thanked him for the coffee, and hightailed it out of Rhode Island (of course his suggestion had been a coffee shop less than a mile from his place, and not somewhere more centrally located between us). I won’t be seeing BTG again any time soon.

* I actually love lawyer jokes. We’re the worst, often times in very comical ways. But I’ve also heard a lot of lawyer jokes, so forgive me when I’m less than humored when your jokes run along the generic and tired lines of:

What’s the difference between a lawyer and a boxing referee? A boxing referee doesn’t get paid more for a longer fight.

What’s the difference between a jellyfish and a lawyer? One’s a spineless, poisonous blob. The other is a form of sea life.

What’s the difference between a lawyer and a leech? After you die, a leech stops sucking your blood.

Instead, try something more like these, which are far less generic/offensive, and actually pretty clever and fitting to tell to a defense attorney (which he knew I was):

Source: Stu’s Views

Message Monday – Beer and Snuggling

Posted on May 19, 2014 by D

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:

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.

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.

Source: #wheninlawschool

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

Close encounters of the ex kind

Posted on May 16, 2014 by S

TGIF, readers. In case you haven’t had you fill of hearing three rejected ladies share their self absorbed tales of woe, I have an update on my dumping saga. You know, the dumping that started a chain reaction that caused what will now be known as The Great Hat Trick of April ’14. Basically I’m the Archduke Franz Ferdinand of this blog, which makes D Gavrilo Princip (did you forget that Stucu is written by history nerds?) Where was I going with this? Oh yeah…

I saw my ex.

Uhhhh, actually… I saw him on purpose.

I know. I know. This sounds like the Worst with a capital W plan ever. But when D and I originally agreed to meet, I was actually feeling pretty good and like I was genuinely starting to move on. More importantly, I had this feeling that there was no way to know if our little friends experiment was feasible until we actually did something friend-like together.

So I met D for coffee two Sundays ago. I wasn’t really nervous before we met. Honestly, I was most worried about looking make-my-ex-regret-dumping-me-without-looking-like-I’m-actually-trying level amazing.

Other than that, I was pretty calm. I did have an irrational fear in the back of my head that D might tell me something crazy, like he was engaged, mostly I think because I saw that happen in a movie. And if there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s taking movie plots way too seriously.

The day we met was a beautiful, sunny Sunday, and it was also the day of the Broad Street Run, a big annual race in Philly. I got ready, walked outside, and enjoyed the sunshine for approximately 2.5 seconds before the weather comically went south: I walked about a block and a half before the skies darkened and opened up with rain. I mean, speaking of scenes that play out like movies…

(That’s what I looked like in the rain, PS. Exactly that).

Unfortunately, like I mentioned, this didn’t end like the movies, with a found cat and an outdoor make out scene and a swelling rendition of Moon River.

In reality my hair became irrevocably frizzy and I had to run home to grab an umbrella and change. Cinema gold!

Between the race crowds, running home to change, and worrying that this was a bad omen from the universe, I had to rush to meet D. When I arrived, frazzled and damp, he was already there waiting for me. I can’t remember whether we hugged or just said hi, but it started out pretty well, all things considered. It was genuinely nice to see him, sit across from him, and catch up in person. ‘See?’ I thought smugly to myself. ‘I can do this. No sweat.’ We chatted and joked easily, talking about our families and friends and jobs, rolling our eyes at the droves of runners coming in post race.

The longer we sat there, though, the longer I sipped my iced coffee, the more effort it took to be normal. First I smelled D’s cologne. Yes, I realize that sounds incredibly creepy, but there you have it. I started to think about how we used to go to Sunday brunch after a night out and then spend the afternoon together. We’d hit up Reading Terminal or take a long walk and go back to one of our places, yadda yadda yadda and then take a nap. It was the best. I thought about how on this particular Sunday, we’d be walking away from each other instead, and I’d be alone.

That’s when a lump slowly started to lodge its way into my throat. Gradually I had to start focusing on acting normal and breathing normally and not bursting into tears. I know D could tell that something was up; I mean, I was literally chanting ‘keep it together’ inside my head; how could he not notice?

Things had gone so well, though, and I was determined to be brave and hold on until I could go cry like a normal rejected loser in the privacy of my own apartment.

SPOILER ALERT: that didn’t happen. We left, and I walked D to his car, the lump in my throat now threatening to choke me. The fact that he seemed to be genuinely enjoying my company with no issues or weirdness was also completely maddening and infuriating. I was sick of being the only mess in our weird exes-turned-friends twosome. D also made some Aspies comment that I was ‘making a face’ before we left that he couldn’t decipher. Uhhh yeah, that would be my ‘holding back tears with nothing but sheer willpower’ face, D. It’s a good one.

sad

I was about one minute away from a public meltdown when we reached the car. “Would you like a ride?” D asked. It was still inexplicably freezing and raining.

I shook my head, unable to look at him. “Thanks, but I’m going to walk. It was good to see you.”

“It was great to see you. He tentatively and awkwardly leaned in to give me a hug. I let him hug me, then spun around and booked it down the street in the other direction, tears streaming down my face. Yup, I cried in public YET. AGAIN.

That’s because I have none. No dignity whatsoever.

Oh my God, you guys, sidenote: I don’t know why this just popped into my head, probably because L and I watched Pitch Perfect together recently, but I feel like the three of us need to do a Weird Al-style parody of Black Street’s ‘No Diggity’ and change the lyrics to ‘No Dignity’. Obviously the song will be about LSD being dumped one after the other, hat trick style: “We hate the way you dumped us– NO DIGNITY”. I’m dead serious, this may be the most brilliant, albeit depressing, idea I’ve ever had…

Y0u’re welcome for brightening up this daytime soap-level cheap drama with some sweet vocal stylings. Didn’t I warn you that I love a Capella? Oh, you thought that was a joke?

I walked home in the rain, a literal walking cliche, openly weeping like a crazy person, pushing past swarms of runners wearing medals, the whole city in a celebratory mood except for me. The second I got home I flopped into bed and cried even harder.

And then I cried some more. I called my mom and cried, then L called me and we took turns crying and praising each other for being so brave. There was so. much. crying.

I was totally baffled that I had this much emotion left in me. I’d had a nice weekend where I saw friends and went out and did things and everything was kosher. I figured I would probably be somewhat depressed/upset after seeing D, I just didn’t know it would level me for the rest of the day. I felt like an asshole for being so naive, for thinking I could just flip a switch and be over D but still magically have him as a constant in my life without any confusion or difficulty. HA. Hahaha. Oh me.

The thing is, though, when my mom suggested that maybe it was a mistake to see him, I knew that wasn’t right either (and I told her so. In an overly emotional semi-hysterical howler monkey voice).

It wasn’t a mistake. I’m totally glad I did it. If I could get in a time machine and go back to that Sunday morning, I would still see D (right after returning to my study abroad semester in London because duh, priorities). I think I needed this. I needed to see him, and see how it made me feel (answer: shitty) and let that reaction guide me to figure out what to do next. I honestly believe it was an important part of the getting over him/moving on process. Was it fun? Fuck no. Traumatic? Uh yeah, kind of. But it was also necessary, as most unpleasant things are (adulthood, you are the worst.)

After I calmed the hell down and thought about it, I knew what I had to do. I called D and asked him for space. My brain was just too confused by the texting and the hanging out post break up. Even though neither of us acted inappropriately and I knew intellectually that we were over, it was too hard to process that while D still had such a presence in my life. So we agreed not to meet again, at least for now, and we also agreed on a text embargo: no texting whatsoever for the rest of the month. It’s been hard, like have literally had to sit on my hands to fight the impulse to pick up my phone and text him hard, but I already feel so much better and in control.

I think this is also coming at a good time for the blog as well. I have a sneaking suspicion that my long, drawn out break up saga is getting a little old, because even I’m getting sick of hearing myself talk about it. I mean, how many times can you read about a grown ass woman crying in public before it becomes tedious? I think I’ve officially reached that limit. I’m not saying I’m ready to jump back into the dating pool just yet, but I am ready to tackle some topics that don’t include my ex. Until then, I’ll be working on the lyrics to ‘No Dignity’ with the other two members of my girl group.

Newly single…and liking it?

Posted on May 1, 2014 by S

Before we get to my post, just a quick blog announcement: since we started Stupid Cupid over a year ago, we’ve always referred to our dates by their first initial. This was easy and effective enough in the beginning, but it’s come to our attention that this practice is now confusing as shit. It’s simple math, really: there are a finite number of letters in the alphabet, and apparently an infinite number of douchey single guys. The longer we date, the more repeats we’re going to have. We can imagine what a pain it must be for you guys to keep everyone straight while reading about our shenanigans. I mean, I recently dated a D, and then co-blogger D dated a D, and then both of those Ds dumped us. It’s like a 21st century Abbott and Costello routine. So, to quote my co-blogger:

D: TOO MANY D’S UP IN HERE – WE’RE SWITCHING TO NICKNAMES

Damn straight we are. From this point forward, all new dudes we go out with will receive a nickname, probably based on a noticeable characteristic or a funny anecdote, but I make no promises as to the consistency (or, frankly, the fairness) of our naming practices. To avoid further confusion, dudes we’ve already written about will still be referred to by their initials; as you’ll see below, D who dumped me is still D (you narrowly missed receiving a nickname containing the words ‘nerd’ and ‘stalker’, sir. You’re welcome.)

We hope this will make things less confusing for you guys, and we’re pretty sure this nickname thing will be an enjoyable practice for us as well. Spoiler alert: the first bachelor to have a nickname bestowed upon him is a guy co-blogger D went out with last weekend, and his nickname involves Japanese food. I assure you, the story behind the name is delightful.

**End blog announcement**

The dust is settling on my break up with D two weeks ago. I’m still processing things, but that initial sting of rejection (which was really more like a punch in the gut) has faded into something more like a dull ache. On a whole, I feel better, but that also changes day by day (and even hour by hour). Last week I was feeling really good about the whole thing; almost obnoxiously so. People were like, wow… you seem to be doing great! And I was all…

Yes, I saw the Lego movie. I told you, I dated a nerd for months.

Anyway, last week everything was awesome, because the weather was gorgeous and I had a ton of fun plans to distract me. This week, it’s been torrential down-pouring, and there’s essentially a tumbleweed rolling across my Google calendar, so I’m a little closer to this than I’m entirely comfortable admitting:

I miss D, even though we’ve been talking. I promise you, “talking” is not a euphemism for anything. We’re genuinely trying to figure out this friends thing, which has been really nice in some ways but also confusing as hell, because I think neither one of us knows exactly how to act towards one another now. The boundaries are different, and the dynamics are different, and it’s…fucking weird. When we agreed to try to remain friends, I told him I reserved the right to change my mind at any point if I started to feel differently, and I’m still playing by those rules. If I wake up tomorrow and am all:

then we’ll call it a day. PS you might be interested to know the results of our little poll: 36% of you keep in touch with your ex(es). Okay, well that makes me feel a little less crazy for trying this. Then again, 33% of you answered “hell no”, so there’s that. Anyway, the experiment continues, and I will keep you all posted.

D also informed me last week that he read and loved both of my posts, which made me cringe ever so slightly. It’s one thing to know that he’s going to read them, and it’s another to receive actual confirmation that he did. After I published part 2 of my post, this fun little exchange occurred:

Uhhhh apparently it’s 2003, because…

Is that the most Aspies thing you’ve ever seen in your life? WHO DOES THAT? I reminded D that I had been really understanding and gracious about the whole being dumped thing, but that that goodwill only goes so far. Translation: do not poke the bear. The dumped bear.

Even though my mood this week has been what some might call “unique”, I have had some time to get used to being single again. And while in some ways it sucks a big huge fat one and I hate the world, in others it actually doesn’t feel bad. It even has its moments of being (dare I say this on a blog where we complain about being single 24-7?) sort of nice. One thing I’ve learned about being in a relationship, even a good one, is that you invest a lot of time and emotional energy into another person and the relationship as a whole. This is/was wonderful in many ways, and in a great relationship what you get back in return of course makes all that effort more than worth it (ugh low point, I just mentioned ROI on our dating blog. Please accept my sincerest apologies). But this particular relationship wasn’t working towards the end, and in hindsight, I really did feel kind of drained, and also like I was neglecting myself a little bit. I’m not saying that D was needy or demanding or that this was his fault, because clearly it takes two to tango. I’m saying there’s a little bit of an exhale happening that I’m actually kind of enjoying.

So, with that in mind, I’m making a concerted effort to look on the bright side/think positively/not be a perpetual Debbie Downer about this break up. Even as I typed that last sentence, I secretly thought…

If you’ve been reading this blog, you know that positivity of any kind is a fairly foreign concept around these parts. Be that as it may, I’ve decided to give it a try, because what the hell? Here’s how I’m looking at it: having more free time and freed up energy is an awesome thing. I have more time to do shit just for me, figure out what I want next in my life, chat up my friends more, maybe find a fun new hobby, write, and just…chill. I hope this doesn’t come off as some smug Eat, Pray, Love bullshit, because God I hated that book…

Basically I’m picturing the next weeks/months of my life as a breezy dream where this happens:

Why yes, Ina, I’d love to.

So… besides not having a house in the Hamptons, here’s the issue. You may recall that I stayed on Okcupid the whole time I was with D for blogging purposes. I changed my status from single to ‘seeing someone’ (which of course did nothing but attract cheating losers instead of single losers) but wasn’t talking to anyone. After D and I broke up, I changed my status back to single, because, you know, accurate. I expected to get a slew of visitors and an underwhelming flurry of one word or unintelligible messages from random douchebags, which don’t worry, I did. It didn’t occur to me for one second that I might actually get a good message, because, I mean, have you been reading this blog? Good messages are like unicorns: they’re rare, they’re mythical, and they appear to only exists in books, movies and our imagination.

You know where this is going, right? I got a good message. Actually, a great one. I clicked on the guy’s profile, half praying for it to be awful or illegible or insane. But of course, nope. At first glance, this looked to be someone I would be thrilled to go out with: smart, funny, interesting, and cute. You know, basically…

God. Damn. It.

In my almost two year career as a part time online dater (and full time pessimist), I’m pretty sure I can count ON ONE HAND the number of times I’ve gotten a really good message from someone with a nice, normal profile who was also taller than me and appeared to be cute. Dismayed, I sought L’s sage advice. We decided that my options were:

Ignore the message completely
Write back explaining that I’d just gotten out of a five month relaysh and am not ready to date yet
Write back normally and see what happens

Option 1 was vetoed immediately, because hi, do I have to make that stupid unicorn analogy again? I’ve seen the dating pool, and let me tell you, shit is rough. I wasn’t about to ignore something promising just because of bad timing.

Option 2 seemed to be the most up front, but something about laying my sad breakup story, even a super abridged version, on a total stranger screamed bad idea/wild over share. Also, one message from someone is absolutely no guarantee that you’ll receive a second, and I decided if I bore my heart to this dude and he didn’t respond, I might ACTUALLY kill myself. Mama can only take so much rejection. Thus, Option 2 was vetoed.

Which left… write back normally and see what happens. I did, and I got a response, another great one. At that point, it was actually surprisingly tempting to just say fuck it, keep a back and forth going and see what it led to. I mean, flirting is fun/boys are cute/distractions are tempting/validation is intoxicating, particularly after you’ve been rejected.

Don’t worry, I quickly came to my senses.

I knew, deep down, that if I pursued this dude or frankly any dude right now, it would be 1. way wayyyy too soon and 2. for all the wrong reasons, namely a distraction from the D stuff. I’m in no way ready to get involved with someone new, and also, the last two people I’ve been involved with had both recently gotten out of super serious relationships, and that turned out to be the source of most of our problems. I mean hello, I got dumped in part because D still had feelings for his ex, so I have firsthand experience with people who jumped back into the game too early, and it’s not something I want to perpetuate. So…

I sent the cute guy another message, laying it all out there, and asking if I could contact him when I was ready to date again. To which he said yes. I don’t know when that will be, exactly, but for now I’ve got plenty of DVR and dreams of channeling The Barefoot Contessa to keep me occupied.

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

Posted on April 25, 2014 by D

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

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:

Source: The Ultimate Gif Database

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

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

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

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

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.

I got dumped (and lived to blog about it), Part 2

Posted on April 23, 2014 by S

When we last left our heroine (me, duh) she had just been dumped by her boo of almost five months, D. She had also just decided, possibly against her better judgment, to go out for a drink with him in the hopes of getting some closure. And now for the thrilling (nope) conclusion of S and D’s break up story.

We drove to the bar in silence. D parked in one of those insane new garages where there are no humans operating anything and your car gets taken away/moved around by a conveyor belt. I stared at this spectacle, dumbfounded, the absurdity of my situation finally sinking in: I was out on a post break up non-date with someone who had just rejected me. We were about to drink some alcohol and say what we needed to say to one another. My brain was suddenly like:

via: http://www.hercampus.com/life/21-worst-parts-winter-break-told-amy-poehler

Too late, though. It was done. We walked into a crowded bar. Music was blasting and there were zero dark corners for me to cry anonymously in, so we walked right back out. It was still pouring so I made an exec decision to go into the next place we passed. As we walked in, it hit me: it was the site of our second date. I didn’t really mention D’s and my second date on this blog, because it was so completely bizarre I honestly didn’t know what to make of it when it happened. In summary, we both drank too much, he got sassy, and I yelled at him. When I walked away from the date I thought I’d never see or hear from him again. Fast forward five months…

“Do you realize where we are?” I asked him. “Of course,” he said. “I didn’t suggest it because I thought it might be too weird.” I shrugged. Things were already so weird, a monkey could have seated us at that point and I probably wouldn’t have been fazed.

We were shown (by a human) to the very back of the restaurant and sat at a long bar facing the kitchen. The waitress took our drink orders and I could feel her stare as she looked back and forth between me, doing this:

via: http://sidmalkin.tumblr.com/post/79130923727/one-time-i-met-sid-at-one-of-the-starbucks-in

and D, doing this:

via: http://splatter.com/tag/funny/page/8/

A few sips of legal sedative later and I was much calmer. We started to talk and it was minimally awkward, at least for me. I was surprised that D and I seemed to be on the same page about so many aspects of our relationship:

how lately things had felt off between us during the week but then great again when we’d see each other in person
how we both felt lonely and alone sometimes, especially at night, even when we were together
how we were incredibly similar in many ways and how that may not have been the best thing for two people in a relationship

I admitted to D that one of the things I had liked most about him in the beginning was that he was super clear about how he felt about me and what he wanted. For the first time maybe ever with a guy I’d felt like I could relax and just enjoy being with him and getting to know him. I should have known, of course, when that feeling slowly started to be replaced by anxiety, that something was up. I did also reprimand him for not being honest with me sooner and making me feel like a crazy person for suspecting something was wrong the last few weeks we were together. It felt good. He took it like a champ.

I cried basically the entire time, and I am really not a crier, or at least I wasn’t until I started online dating. AMIRITE?

via: http://reactiongifs.me/30-living-with-parents/

I wonder if Okcupid wants to use that glowing endorsement on their homepage. Shoot me an email, Sam Yagan. Anyway, I’m sharing this embarrassing crying detail only so I can also share a funny anecdote: since it was a rainy Tuesday, the bar was basically empty and the servers and busboys were all standing around close to where D and I were sitting. The longer we sat there, the more they noticed my crying, and the more blatantly they glared at D. By the end of the night, many of them were giving him the straight up stink eye as if he was an abusive boyfriend (which wouldn’t have been the worst guess given the scene they were witnessing). It reminded me of this wonderful vintage Scrubs clip (except obviously D pissed off the waitstaff, not Asians):

Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the honesty, maybe it was the dirty looks D was getting from total strangers, but I started to feel… better. Like I actually understood what had happened and why it had happened. Like I knew where D’s head was at and got to say everything I wanted to say to him. Like I could move on. Hey, what do we call that, Rachel Green?

closure

via: http://www.tvfanatic.com/forum/gossip-girl/friends/page-84.html

And that was that. There was no drama. No one yelled or stormed out. The whole thing felt very…mature. I suppose my lifelong dream of throwing a drink in someone’s face will just have to wait.

We left the bar, watched D’s car being lowered absurdly onto the street, and he drove me home. I had been thinking about what would come next ever since he told me at the beginning of the night that he wanted to stay friends. Maybe I’ve seen When Harry Met Sally one too many times, but I’ve always kind of scoffed at that idea of being friends with an ex.

This feels different, though. I mean, I still need time to process things and let the dust settle a bit before 100% knowing what I want. But I think (and I hope) that D and I can be friends. I don’t know in what capacity, and I don’t know what that says about our relationship to begin with (were we always meant to just be friends all along?) but I think I’d like to give it a try.

I’m curious about other people’s experiences with this, though. You know what that means… reader poll time!

I know D wasn’t the right guy for me, romantically speaking. Even before he dumped me I think I knew, deep down, that one of us would have to end it eventually. But I don’t feel like I wasted my time. I don’t regret giving it another shot after that awful second date. I honestly think he was what I needed at this moment in my life. Beyond the fact that I had a lot of fun with him, I also think I just needed to know that there are nice, decent, considerate, thoughtful guys out there. After being jerked around by commitment phobic douchebags all last year, I needed someone to remind me that I deserve more.

I think what’s making me so sad is this: I’m going to miss his company. Even though we didn’t work as a couple, we had a connection and we had a lot in common. D became that person who I texted and chatted with on pretty much a daily basis, shared details about my day with, exchanged music, stories, and random crap from the internet with, tried new restaurants with, went to museums with, shared inside jokes with, and just did all the wonderful fun stuff that you do in an exclusive relationship. Saying goodbye to him, and to that, feels really lonely.

One thing that has made me feel better is the outpouring of ‘I know this sucks–I’ve been there’ texts and emails I’ve gotten from friends and readers. I also happened to catch an old Parcs and Rec on TV last week when I was glued to my couch in a post break up coma, and it made me seriously LOL. The fool who posted the video disabled embedding, so click the link below to enjoy these (fictitious but still amazing) breakup stories from Leslie Knope:

On the bright side, none of those things happened to me. And as awful as it was, at least D had the decency to 1. be honest with me and 2. end things in person. He could have faded away or even pulled a Jack Berger, although I’m pretty sure this is just the early 2000s version of a text breakup:

Do you have a break up story to share? And do you feel like cheering this dumped blogger up? Tell me about it in the comments and I’ll be forever grateful.

Message Monday – How Did You Find That Out?

Posted on April 21, 2014 by D

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:

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.

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.

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.

I think YOU’RE the racist in this scenario.

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

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.

writer’s block + technology fails

Posted on April 14, 2014 by S

You know when you’re in a job interview and the person asks you a totally weird or random question that you didn’t expect? There’s that first moment when your brain is trying to process it; that terrifying moment of ‘holy shit, I literally have nothing to say’? Yeah, that’s happening to me right now.

You guys, I can’t think of anything to write about. I have approximately 4 different drafts that I’ve started on various subjects, I just can’t come up with anything interesting, insightful, or witty to say about them.

Logically I can (at least partially) contribute my massive writer’s block to the fact that I’m out of the dating game at the moment. This means I’m not messaging back and forth with new dudes, going on first dates, having guys cancel on me/fade away/misplace their cars, or participating in any of the general fuckery that makes for dating blog gold.

I’m not gonna lie, it’s effing awesome. Believe me, I am NOT complaining. But for the purpose of keeping this blog going? Not so awesome. The thing is, I definitely still have past experiences to talk about, and I also have a whole new set of experiences to draw on, freak out over, and write about. AND YET, save for my thoughts on last night’s Game of Thrones ending (awesome except now I’m worried for Tyrion–K, what have you done to me??) and pictures of baby corgis occasionally drifting on through…

my mind is comically blank.

Meanwhile I keep picturing you faithful readers coming here, looking for a laugh, and being like,

via: http://imgur.com/gallery/ZwN68f0

And that STRESSES ME OUT.

Also worth noting… when I Googled writer’s block, this is what came up:

via: http://www.funnyjunk.com/funny_pictures/4204865/Writers+Block/

Ahaha slow clap, slash don’t worry, D, Taylor’s basically cornered the market on pop/country breakup songs.

Ironically, as I was searching for ‘writer’s block GIFs’, I realized that I do have a few little tidbits to talk about. Incidentally, they’re both technology-related.

Online stalking

I’ll freely admit it: I still online stalk my exes with wild abandon. And come on, so do most of you peeps. I don’t do it because I have any interest in getting back together with them, or because I’m still into them at all. Hell no. It’s pure, unadulterated curiosity + a pathological need to find shit out. The thing is, sometimes this backfires, and you find out something you really weren’t meant to/didn’t want to know. Like, for instance, when I found out last fall that a certain self proclaimed commitment phobe who I couldn’t get to date me exclusively moved in with his new girlfriend, and I spent the better part of a week despondently repeating, “What’s wrong with me?” to my co-bloggers ad nauseum.

Conversely, in at least one case I’ve also stalked someone I used to go out with and gotten a good, cathartic laugh out of it. One dude who I dated last year has grown some absolutely TERRIFYING hipster facial hair; I’m talking gnarly Rumpelstiltskin beard + douchey waxed mustache. My girlfriends and I had a grand time LOLing at that greasy animal above his lip, and I felt on top of the God damn world.

One embarrassing (and more importantly, stupid) thing that I’ll admit to you guys about this proud stalking tradition: I usually stalk exes’ Twitter accounts FROM THIS BLOG’S TWITTER ACCOUNT. I mean, you want to talk about risky business…

via: http://www.risdall.com/blog/2013/07/24/7303-revision-v1/

I know, realistically it’s only a matter of time before I have a clicking mishap like this one, an ex ends up reading this very post, and my life is over. So STAY TUNED for that.

The iMessage read receipt

Worst feature ever, or worst feature ever?

via: http://satiricalpolitical.com/2012/10/04/jim-lehrer-mea-culpa-what-went-wrong/

Texting itself is bad enough for dating; I can trace SO MANY misunderstandings, stresses, annoyances, and just general weirdness back to texts. But read receipts are a special kind of torture, and for some unknown reason, all straight men with iPhones appear to use it. Literally none of my girlfriends use it. I sure as shit don’t use it. Because nothing says ‘I don’t care about you’ like a little confirmation that someone read your text and then….silence. Oh, thanks so much for giving me the heads up that you read what I wrote and then promptly walked away/watched DVR/went to Trader Joe’s/did your laundry/did your taxes/called your mom/jerked off before finally getting around to responding. That makes me feel fantastic! Meanwhile, if your read receipts were off, I wouldn’t think twice if it took you 20 minutes to respond. Because whoooo knows what’s going on over in your world. You may not have your phone! You may be trapped under something heavy! The possibilities are endless.

L and I went on a full tangent about this a few weeks ago after she lived through a particularly harrowing read receipt incident. I had to get to the bottom of this nonsense, so I went straight to the source:

Yeahhhhh. I mean, that would explain why all of my exes tortured me with this thing, because it’s well documented that I have a thing for nerdy dudes. In conclusion: single people reading this, I implore you to just say no to read receipts. If you don’t, you’re eventually going to look like an asshole or piss a potential love interest off. Probably both. Let’s all stick with the nice, civilized ‘delivered’, shall we? Anyway, between read receipts and that evil little ellipsis:

via: http://media.idownloadblog.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/02/Messages-iOS-7-typing-a-reply.gif

this technology shit is enough to drive any single person crazy.

Adam Levine physically repulses two out of three Stucu co-bloggers

This has exactly zero to do with dating or technology, but I just had to release an official statement regarding D’s picture of that walking herpes virus Adam Levine last week. L and I would like you all to know that neither of us condone the use of that gross image on this blog because omg, he’s the absolute worst. I mean, even if he is physically your jam (which ew, already judging you), how can you still feel that way when he opens his mouth? That voice! Ewwww the voice. Shudder. Never again, D. Not on our watch.

PS this blog is now home to not one, not two, but THREE 29 year old ladies! Happy Birthday, L!!!!

Ugly Truths About Modern Dating

Posted on April 11, 2014 by D

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:

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:

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.

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.

*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

Posted on April 3, 2014 by D

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.

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.

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.

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:

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.

Stupid Cupid

three single girls. three cities. adventures in online dating.

Tag Archives: D

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

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Online stalking

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