Tag Archives: Liz Lemon

Second (and almost third) date with the Grouchketeer

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Apparently I left you all hanging with my post from last week, because multiple readers reached out to me and my co-bloggers asking what happened with Grouchketeer. Never fear, my pretties. That was not the last I heard or saw of him, which for his personal safety was probably a good thing; no single woman should have to endure Mr. Sick AND a fade away.

Grouchketeer asked me out again a day or two after our fated first meeting, and I said yes. This time the itinerary was much more normal: dinner and checking out a pop up park in Philly that was about to close for the season.I joked  the apparent normalcy of this date compared to our first one.

mr sick

Well okay then! We made plans for Friday night  at 7 (his suggestion). Grouchketeer lives in a Philly suburb, so I knew he’d be contending with some unique traffic driving into the city. But since he “worked from home” (possible euphemism for semi-funemployed) and could leave whenever, this didn’t seem like a huge deal.

The week leading up to our date, we did a bit of light text flirting. Grouchketeer seemed to be enthusiastically pursuing me, which was great because I liked him, but at times I thought it might be a bit TOO enthusiastic. For instance, it had come up in conversation that I work for the same (large) company as his brother’s girlfriend, and one day he texted me asking if I could look her up in our employee directory. Assuming he wanted the info. for something legit, I did.

girlfriend

wait what

Source: rebloggy.com

Oh my God, Grouchketeer. Inappropriate. So inappropriate. At this point we had been on ONE date; I didn’t know his last name, and he wanted me to waltz over to his brother’s “live in girlfriend” (who PS works in a different department and different building than me) and say what? ‘Oh hi, I’m your boyfriend who refuses to propose to you’s brother’s date. We’ve literally met once to watch nude puppets prance around on stage. Anyway, he says we’d get along, so we should totally be best friends!’

Honestly it freaked me out a little bit that Grouchketeer didn’t seem to get why this was a completely whakadoo request to make of someone you’ve spent a total of 3 hours with. But I told him the idea made me uncomfortable, chalked it up to my date possibly having some light Aspies, and moved on.

Friday rolled around and I got ready for dinner like normal, until Grouchketeer called me at 6:30 and said, “I have bad news.”

time out

Source: fakemrjones.blogspot.com

Gentlemen. Please don’t call your date whom you’ve met once and say you have bad news, especially if your date is a confirmed Negative Nancy. The mind reels at the possible things that could follow that statement. Here are some of the options that ran through my head:

  • I can’t make it/I’m canceling/I never want to see you again (this is the most obvious and least upsetting option)
  • Just a heads up, I have a scorching case of herpes
  • I’m a convicted felon and I violated my parole so I just want you to know I’m headed back to the big house today
  • I found your blog and have deemed you an undatable psychopath

Grouchketeer: I’m stuck in some of the worst traffic I’ve ever been in in my life. I haven’t moved in 45 minutes and there are multiple accidents. It’s really bad. Just wanted to let you know I’m never going to make it by 7; I’m really sorry.

Me: Oh. (Internally: no parole violation/herpes. Score!) Well, thanks for letting me know. When do you think you’ll be here?

Grouchketeer: At this point honestly I think I should just go back home and wait it out for a bit. If I can’t move our reservation to later I’ll think of somewhere different for us to go. I’ll keep you posted on my ETA. Really sorry.

Me: Um, okay? Talk to you soon.

I hung up the phone, confused annoyed. Obviously shit happens, and Philly traffic is a clusterfuck. But at the same time, this guy was the one who suggested Friday night at 7, and it’s not exactly like he was rushing from his busy office job (or possibly any job). Also, WHY was he going home? I was too bamboozled on the phone to ask him how that remotely made any sense, but I wondered if he’d ever actually left his apartment or if he’d just called me from his couch in sweatpants while fully engrossed in a Law and Order marathon.

DudeWaiting

Source: fakemrjones.blogspot.com

The other thing that annoyed me was, there’s a god damn regional rail line that runs right through his town and into Center City Philadelphia. Why couldn’t he just hop on the train? Was I not worth one six dollar ride on public transportation?

Then the Grouchketeer texted me to tell me he couldn’t get a later reservation at the delicious restaurant we were supposed to have dinner at. He promised he’d figure something else out, but I was already at this point on the rage spectrum:

hell come

Source: gifsoup.com

Here’s the real problem: I was starving. I’d spent the day fasting in preparation for Dan Dan noodles, and now they’d been snatched away from me. I informed my date of this.

dandan

Yes, they’re blindingly delicious, Grouchketeer, but that’s no excuse. I stewed some more, until my roommate (cautiously, carefully ) pointed out that my supreme annoyance at this scheduling hiccup was probably 25% due to my date being a poor planner and possibly a liar, and 75% due to pure, unadulterated hanger. She advised me to have a glass of wine and a snack before things got ugly.

liz mac and cheese

Source: www.menulog.com.au

I did just that, for everyone’s safety and well being. And it worked! I was much calmer about the whole thing. An hour and a half later, when the Grouchketeer finally rolled up to my apartment (I had demanded that he pick me up at this point), I was feeling totally breezy. And slightly tipsy. ‘Where are we going?’ I asked nonchalantly.

Grouchketeer: I made an executive decision. No Old City… the parking is a nightmare and we’ll have to wait to eat. We’re going to a place in West Philly.

Me: Okay. Sounds great.

We drove, chatting amiably, until I noticed a duffel bag in the car.

Me (half jokingly): Going somewhere?

Grouchketeer: Oh. Yeah. My dad has a shore house in Wildwood, and I’m going to head down after our date tonight and stay the weekend. He’s away so I’ll have the place to myself, and it’s probably the last weekend of nice beach weather we’ll have until next year.

Me: That sounds amazing. I love the shore.

Grouchketeer: Yeah, so, uh, actually, I didn’t know if it would be weirder to say something now or in advance, but I wanted to invite you down, too, if you’re interested. I’m sure you have plans and I’m not trying to sound presumptuous, really I just mean you can come hang at the house and there’s a pool there, and a guest bedroom if, you know…yeah. I’d love for you to come with me if you’re up for an adventure.

I’ll admit it; for roughly five seconds this offer did sound super romantic and spontaneous. Boy meets girl, boy whisks girl away to the shore in a vintage Camaro for a weekend of hot sex and drag racing (yes, I was essentially confusing my life with a Bruce Springsteen song. We Jersey girls do that sometimes).

Then reality sunk in. First of all, I was sitting in an ’03 Toyota. Second, ONCE AGAIN, I didn’t even know this guy. My mood quickly shifted to indignant.

how dare you

Source: www.tumblr.com

Who did this complete stranger think he was, asking me to befriend his siblings’ significant others and then proposing I spend the weekend with him 2 hours away? After one. date. Plus there’s the fact that he could OBVIOUSLY be a rapist or serial killer (which would explain why he stayed home to watch that Law and Order marathon–he was probably taking notes!) But even though my answer was clearly:

hard pass

Source: comics-watchtower.tumblr.com

Grouchketeer had asked me very sweetly and earnestly (although I imagine most sociopaths have that look down) and I didn’t want to overreact and sour the whole date, so tried to respond as casually as I could.

 Me: Oh. Wow. Thanks, but I have plans this weekend.

Grouchketeer: Okay, no problem. Was that weird of me to ask you that?

Me: Honestly? Yes, a little bit.

Grouchketeer: I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean it that way. You’re just really cool and I like spending time with you.

Me: Thanks.

Awkward silence. So much awkward silence.

While we drove, I tried to decide how inappropriate all of this really was. Later that night, when I told L about the shore incident, she made a great point: clearly I liked Grouchketeer, but I was not that into him, and I might have (probably would have) reacted differently with a different guy. For instance if H, the guy who I had the best first date of my life with, had asked me the exact same question at the beginning of our second date, I probably would have gone full Born to Run fantasy and risked becoming a human lampshade in the name of having a spontaneous adventure with a guy I was into. And she’s so right. In dating, the same behavior can read as inappropriate or hot, creepy or romantic, annoying or charming, depending on how much you like the person. God, L, why are you so wise?

We arrived at the restaurant, a trendy restaurant owned by a Top Chef winner that I’d been meaning to go to for months (tragically/hilariously, D and I had had plans to eat here, but I had to cancel our reservation when he dumped me three days before we were supposed to go. Memories!) Cynical S was thinking: it’s Friday night, this place is small and super popular, there is no way we’re not waiting an hour plus for a table. And waiting at the bar would be no big deal, except my date was an effing tea totaler. I bit my tongue, though, and just went with it.

Turns out that Grouchketeer had the hook up. He knew the restaurant manager (a “friend of his” aka cute girl who was overly friendly to me, which made my spidey senses tingle) and we were seated almost immediately. We had a delicious meal and the kitchen sent us multiple dishes on the house. Once again, Grouchketeer proved himself to be a a severe mumbler and I ended up getting food on my shirt because I was leaning across the table to attempt to catch what the hell he was saying in the loud ass room. The manager who he knew came over to ask how our food had been, and he said something to her in THE LOWEST VOICE EVER and they both looked at me expectantly. At that point, tired of saying ‘Excuse me?’, I literally just said ‘Yup!’, smiled, and took a big swig of my drink. I’m sure I looked (and sounded) deranged.

After dinner, we faced another classic Grouchketeer dilemma: what. the. fuck. do we do if we can’t go to a bar? Again, was not ready to invite him to my place, and the park we had planned to go to was on the other side of the city and at the point getting ready to close. We were in kind of a dead area full of insufferable Penn students, so we decided to “take a walk”. The banter/chatting with this one was good, readers, I will say. Then my date announced he had an idea for what to do next.

Grouchketeer: Have you ever been to a hookah bar?

Me: Sure, before I was 21 and could get into actual bars.

Grouchketeer: There’s one around the corner. We should go.

Me: Okay…? Sure, why not?

So we went to a hookah bar, like a couple of 19 year olds whose fake IDs have been confiscated. It was mostly empty because again, hookah bar on a Friday night. We smoked (green apple flavor), enjoyed Turkish coffee and I proceeded to drop the powdered sugar on the Turkish delight all over my top, which was already looking unique due to my mumble-induced table leaning.

As painfully uncool as it was, there were upsides to the hookah situation. First of all, it was empty, so it was QUIET, which meant I could actually hear what Whispers Von Mumbleson was saying. Second, we were literally on a couch covered in pillows, which led to a very relaxed vibe that was conducive to chatting and flirting. We stayed at that place for hours chatting, smoking and drinking and chatting. Despite the weird start, date #2 was going pretty well.

Finally I realized it was super late and the owners were giving us the cut eye because we were the last people there. Once again Grouchketeer drove me home, and once again we made out in the car in the bike lane outside of my apartment and then said goodnight. 

Date #2 rating: 7/10. Grouchketeer once again overcame multiple setbacks (tardiness, hanger, change in plans, indecent proposals) and showed me a pretty good time.

But wait! There’s more.

A few days later, my date asked me out a third time. Woot. He suggested we check out a neighborhood street fair with food, booze, and live music. Double woot. Grouchketeer mentioned he had “no schedule” so I should pick the time. The location was a bit of a hike for both of us, so we both planned to drive and meet there at 7.

I arrived at 7 and texted him to let him know I was there. No answer. He’s parking, I figured. 10 minutes went by. I got myself a beer and walked around. I checked my phone at 20 minutes, now officially annoyed. Was this dude seriously going to make me wait for the second time and not even say anything? And at least the first time I’d been in my apartment and could easily do other things; now I was outside in a strange area of the city with hundreds of people, wandering around aimlessly and alone like an idiot. Then I got this:

park

I waited 10 more minutes and asked how it was going.

working

What. the. fuck. I had parked in two minutes. I stood there, stewing with rage, until approximately 7:40, and then something inside of me snapped. And I did something I’ve never done before, readers: I left. I was so over this guy’s shitty behavior and being made to wait twice in a row, and I knew even if he’d shown up 30 seconds later I would’ve been so annoyed with him there’s no way it would have been a good date. So I said,

dude

Source: wifflegif.com

…and I bounced.

deuces

Source: wifflegif.com

I texted Grouchketeer to let him know I was over waiting and was going home. Comically, five minutes later he texted saying he’d found parking. Clearly he hadn’t even looked at my messages.

for real

FOR REAL, Grouchketeer. You asshole. Also, when I just went to screen cap his (bullshit) response, it was gone. Like, deleted out of my text history. I’m pretty sure I went to copy and paste it to L or D and must have in my blinding rage accidentally deleted it. It said something to the tune of “bla bla bla sorry but to be clear I said to pick a time where you wouldn’t feel rushed.” WHAT??

Here’s something I did find when returning to our texts for this post. I didn’t even see this when Grouchketeer actually sent it, because I was busy being an adult and being on time for my shit. If I had seen it, crimes might have been committed.

shower

gosling frustrated

Source: www.reactiongifs.com

ejwqoidmoiewjrfekdmcklewjroi3remmngfnuoewjro oh my GOD. So this dude had all fucking day to take a shower because you know, “no schedule”, but he chose to do it 48 minutes before we were supposed to meet up, when he also knew he had to drive a minimum half hour to get there and fight to find parking. And then he actually tried to sass ME when he was wildly late. COOL PLANNING/MANNERS, BRO.

Anyway, as you can see above, there was not reaaaaally even an apology in that text from him; I remember that for sure. Since my rage level had officially returned to:

hell come

Source: gifsoup.com

I word vomited a response:

rant grouchketeer

Yes, that was so long I had to paste two screencaps together. Yes, I know I made it sound like I’m busier than the president when in reality I’m usually on the couch watching TV. But it’s the principle of the thing. I don’t know what I was expecting after that (admittedly wordy) manifesto, but I certainly thought it would be more climactic than this:

goodbye grouchketeer

Aaaaaaand scene. Literally those were the last words we said/wrote to each other.

I was so mad, you guys. And just disappointed. And while Grouchketeer had been really sweet and considerate at other times, be had been a real dick about this, which simultaneously made me feel vindicated for leaving and completely depressed because everyone out there is apparently the worst. A small part of me wondered if I should have just gone with the flow more, but in case you haven’t noticed, that is just not who I am; and if this guy couldn’t pull it together the second and third times he met me, it was only going to be downhill from there anyway.

I realize this was a depressing end to my run with everyone’s favorite trash kid. Believe me, I felt the same way; I think a first date as epically ridiculous as ours deserved a better, or at least more interesting, conclusion. So even though we ended on a sour note, I will always remember our time with Mr. Sick et al fondly, so I’m going to go out on a limb (or a stump-badumching!) and give Grouchketeer a proper, puppet-themed send off.

Date #3 rating: 0/10. I know the date didn’t actually happen, but I showed up (on time) so I’m counting it.

S’s fall dating to do list

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Good morning, readers. I trust that we’re all in a…fragile state after a long holiday weekend and the official end of summer.

sobbing-uncontrollably

Source: wifflegif.com

Speaking of the end of summer, how much do you hate me for putting the word ‘fall’ in my post title? I’m like those ill-informed Starbucks executives who think people want to drink pumpkin spice lattes when it’s still 90 degrees out. I know I may be rushing it, but I’m just so. excited. for fall.

so-excited-sbb

Source: popgoesthearts.blogspot.com

Sitenote: DID ANYONE WATCH the Saved by the Bell Lifetime movie?? Was it as horrific/amazing as it looked? Was this iconic scene referenced?

Anyway, if you’ve been following this blog, you may recall that it’s been a somewhat dark summer (darker than Jessie Spano’s pill addiction-hiyoooo), at least in terms of dating. Basically, things started out low and continued to suck pretty much right up until now. The Summer of YOLO, while a an inspiring idea, didn’t lead to much of anything, unless you count L and I continually embarrassing D with our unironic use of the term ‘YOLO’ (a delightful, albeit unintended, bonus). Psyching myself up to just sign onto Okcupid currently looks something like this:

paul-rudd

Source: flavorwire.com

So yeah, mama’s excited to move on from all that (and to stop designing my date outfits/hairstyles around how much I’ll inevitably be sweating. East coast humidity is no joke, people.) Fall always feels like a fresh start, and it’s a great opportunity to hit the reset button on my tired dating practices. With that in mind, I’ve outlined my fall dating plan for you lovely readers because 1. posting it here will hold me accountable to actually do these things, and 2. I currently have no actual dates to tell you lovely readers about #datelessdatingblogger.

S’s Fall Dating To Do List

  • Update the ol’ profile pic–I have an assortment of cute pictures from this summer where I look arguably tanner than my pasty self has ever looked, and as we’ve covered previously, profile pics are pretty much the only things Okcupid users pay attention to. So why the hell haven’t I uploaded those babies? I’ll change that ASAP before I go back to looking like a Vitamin D-deficient basement dweller. Done.
  • Brainstorm new first date locales, and be open to unorthodox suggestions—I’m not saying I plan to retire my go-to first date suggestion, because it’s convenient and I love it. But there’s something to be said, I think, for throwing out a fresh location, mainly because at this point in my online dating…career… I have a lot of history in my standard bars. For instance, I couldn’t help but think, while being fist-bumped by the Good Message Unicorn outside Strangelove’s, that just over a year beforehand I was having the best first kiss after the best first date of my life. Right there in that very spot. Oof, was that depressing. Depressing and unnecessary. There are plenty of bars in the city and damn it, I’m going to try some new ones (I realize I have to actually secure a date first, but shhhh details). Also, if hell freezes over and a date actually makes a non-bar suggestion, unless that suggestion is ‘Tea Party rally’ or ‘anonymous orgy’, I’m going to throw caution to the wind and just say yes.

staying in

Source: the-girlieshow.tumblr.com

I really only started to think about this after reading L’s tale of downgrading her first date location and remembering that I’ve also pulled that move (making two out of three Stucu bloggers the worst!) Last year my ex, D, who was an unusually thoughtful planner, suggested go karts for our second date. I remember thinking at the time that this suggestion was totally random and weird (which let’s be honest it kind of was) so I pushed for a bar instead. But looking back now, all I can think is, what the hell was wrong with me?? A cute guy was attempting to plan shit, fun and different shit, for us to do. I should have done it! I should have capitalized on dating a planner while I could, loosened up and had some fun, because Lord knows I may be waiting a long ass time (read: forever) for that to come along again.

  • Try Hinge, because co-blogger D is having wild success on it–Okay, “wild success” might be a slight overstatement, but co-blogger D’s been thrown some seriously eligible bachelors in our extended social circle in the week that she’s been using Hinge, including a college friend of L’s who she and her friends refer to as “the one that got away”. Okay, Hinge. I’ll bite. Let’s do this (comically, I just tried to download the Hinge app while writing this and it made my phone semi explode. Foreshadowing?)
  • Don’t be an asshole about replying to messages and then complain incessantly about messages–Real talk, I will never not complain about messages. That’s just a totally unrealistic goal. But I am going to work on being a more decisive replier. Example: sometimes I will get a message from someone who seems kind of meh, and I’ll mentally earmark him as a ‘maybe’, but really I only mean ‘maybe if I’m bored or there’s no one else promising or I stalk an ex on social media and feel bad about myself’. L revealed a similar pattern of hers in her delightfully real post last week (seriously can we all tell how inspired I was be her realness?) As my girl pointed out, this is kind of a dick move, and if we’re going to call dudes out for being dicks, well, we’re going to put ourselves on blast, too. In the future, I’m going to try to give every message a simple yes or no, and move the hell on.
  • Stop taking everything so personally–If you online date, you know how easy it is to take “I’m not getting any good messages” and twist it into “I’m not getting any good messages…

 clueless what's wrong with me

Source: sarabynoe.com

In other words, just because it’s been a slow, shitty summer date-wise doesn’t mean this is about me. People have been outside, on vacay, enjoying the beautiful weather and living their damn lives. Everyone is on Okc and other sites less, and the people who aren’t tend to be looking for a casual summer fling/jump off. It’s been a slow summer for almost every single person online dating that I know, and if it hasn’t, congratulations/I hate you/please don’t tell me about it and just let me live in ignorance believing this theory. Thanks!

  • Continue to gleefully boycott and malign eHarmony–You didn’t think my to do list included giving that wretched site my money, did you? HA! I’ll see you in hell, Dr. Neil Clark Warren, before that happens. What I can promise is to follow up on my original post with some more hilariously awful things I encountered during my tenure as a fake free member of the site. Because as L said when I asked her if a second eHarmony post was overkill: “Hating on eHarmony will never go out of style, on this blog or in life”. Wise words, Lady L. Wise. Words.
  • Repeat the affirmation: your time will come. This is some serious zen shit, am I right? It goes hand in hand with one of my favorite quotes that I may need to have tattooed on my forehead by the time I turn 30: “Comparison is the thief of joy.” God damn, Teddy Roosevelt, not only were you a bonafide badass, but you also threw down some sage advice. Seriously, though, I have to stop focusing on what everyone else has (successful relationships/boyfriends/fiances/husbands) trust that things will work out some day, and just continue to do me. While I wait for someone else to do me. HAHAHAawkwardsexjokethatmymomwillread. Basically…patience. I need some. And now this beautiful song is in my head:

Lest you think I’m making a wildly ill-advised attempt to compare my silly little dating woes to the Civil Rights Movement, let me assure you that I really just love the Dreamgirls soundtrack. A lot. And I wanted us all to rock out to this amazing jam. So enjoy, maybe with a pumpkin spice latte?

Just kidding, it’s 92 degrees here.

Message Monday: adjectives

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color

I realize that compared to other Message Mondays, this one is pretty harmless. It’s polite and to the point. It contains zero, insults, sexual propositions, or terrifying back woods date scenarios. True, ‘what is your fav color’ is a more appropriate question for a 5th grader texting his first girlfriend on a school night than a 38 year old man messaging a potential date, but in the grand scheme of things, this is not so terrible. Apparently this guy wasn’t satisfied with his first message, though, because he quickly sent me a follow-up:

color2

Again, nothing blatantly insane, but here’s where this became MM-worthy. Ignoring the fact that there’s no mention of my profile whatsoever, so it’s unclear if he even read it. Good sir, would you go up to a woman in a bar and start listing your stats and self proclaimed attributes right off that bat like this? Is that how we’re striking up conversations these days? More importantly, the entire reason you HAVE A PROFILE is so you don’t have to fire off this info. right off the bat. It’s not 1996 and this isn’t an AOL chat room; the internet has evolved past the need to throw A/S/L out there, and thank God for that. I know you’re (allegedly) 38, single, 5’9 1/2 (ahem 5’7 tops) and have no kids, because you put all that info. in your profile. You know what else you put in your profile? The second part of this message, essentially:

selfsum

Here’s the other thing that annoys me (besides ‘I’m honesty’…really?). L and I often lament the many Okc profiles we come across that are filled with useless adjectives. I realize that when writing about yourself it’s damn near impossible not to throw a handful in there, but lots of profiles I read contain pretty much nothing but this one part of speech. The thing is, listing personality descriptors doesn’t actually paint me a picture of who you are, for a couple of reasons. First, more often than not it comes off as self congratulatory and obnoxious. Second, it’s way too easy to exaggerate or lie. If there’s one thing we’ve confirmed on this blog time and again, it’s that the internet is full of liars. It’s frighteningly easy to say whatever you want about yourself, and most of the time I have no way of verifying this info. until we go out. I said most of the time, because if you’ll recall, last year L wrote about an amazing (since discontinued–boo) blog that took down dudes who claimed to be “nice guys” and then immediately contradicted that statement elsewhere. If you’ll also recall, today’s Message Monday claimed to be “open-minded” in his message to me, but his answers to some choice questions beg to differ:

openmindedreally

Source: nbcsnl.tumblr.com

 

shut it down dealbreaker

 

Source: giphy.com

Which brings me to my third issue with adjectives. Even if you genuinely believe you are all of the things you say you are, we may (and probably do) have very different definitions of the words themselves. What you consider “romantic”, I may consider cheesy or even creepy.

What you consider “open-minded”, well, see above. What you consider “easygoing”, I might just consider lazy. Sidenote on this one: if I see one more profile where a guy describes himself as laid back or easygoing, I’m going to flip a table.

table flip

Source: tableflipgifs.tumblr.com

I would estimate that 7 out of 10 single men on Okcupid use one or both of these adjectives in their profile, and I actually think that may be a low-ball number. News flash, single straight men of Okcupid: there is no way you are all actually “laid back” and “easygoing”. Do you possibly mean that you’re “lazy as shit”? Because that’s more believable. But easygoing in that pleasant, amiable, positive way that you clearly mean? Nope. Not buying it. Basically, if you’re using either of those adjectives to describe yourself, you’d better be this guy:

dude

Source: mmashare.com.2112112.net

Here’s a good rule of thumb for profile and message writing, guys (and single people in general): use the same advice that your 7th grade English teachers (presumably) gave you.

showdonttell

Give me something, doesn’t have to be a novel but something, to help me learn some actual information about you. If you have a full time job and are in grad school working towards an advanced degree, that shows me that you’re ambitious. If you babysit your niece and nephew and take them on fun day trips, that shows me that you’re caring and trustworthy. If you share a self deprecating anecdote about yourself, that shows me that you’re down to earth. Also, bonus: it actually gives us things to talk about! Because currently what I have to go off of is “likes movies and traveling” (who doesn’t?) and “claims to be trustworthy” (who doesn’t?).

Anyway, stepping off that soapbox and back to the subject at hand, my “open-minded” Message Monday victim. Here are some more gems from his profile for your viewing pleasure:

positive

Again with the adjectives (and grammatical gaffes). Stay focused on what? Maintaining the least informative Okcupid profile of all time? If so, A+, sir.

positivity

Getting a littttttle redundant up in here. Also, I’m choosing not to comment on “chivalry” in the interest of keeping this post short, but ugh.

sixthings

Welp, better add “the inability to count or follow directions” to the list. That’s three things, you fool. Also, inquiring minds want to know, do you consider yourself to be a positive or negative person? I’m not sure, since you haven’t mentioned it.

Nerd-Rage

Source: katecornellonline.com

 

Newly single…and liking it?

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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…

everything is awesome

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:

500 days jack500 days getaroom

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:

ron burgundy

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:

D fazed

Uhhhh apparently it’s 2003, because…

http://corporateplantationworker.files.wordpress.com/2010/03/punkd.jpg

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…

the fuck does that mean

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…

mindy eat pray love

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

ina garten

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…

unicorns

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:

  1. Ignore the message completely
  2. Write back explaining that I’d just gotten out of a five month relaysh and am not ready to date yet
  3. 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.

cher

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.

 

Pic of the week, blog award, and PSA

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Before I get down to business, just a few quick announcements. First, some exciting news: Stucu was named one of the 10 Best Blogs for Dating in the City by DatingAdvice.com. Woohoo! Check out our sweet badge:

citydating-dkblue-1

And our little write up here. Apparently, someone out there thinks our advice is “solid”. Well, shucks! That makes us feel like…

high five

Now, for the PSA portion of today’s post. For those of you who are interested, you can sign up to be notified via email whenever we publish a new post. It’s super easy, so easy even my computer illiterate mom can do it (no offense, mom, but you and I both know you’ve only just gotten the hang of Microsoft Word. Love you!)

To sign up for email notifications, do one of the following two things:

  • Scroll to the very bottom of this page to where it says ‘Follow Stucu’. Enter your email address, click ‘update me’ and voila! You’re all set.
  • Alternatively, if you see a little black ‘follow’ box at the bottom right hand corner of this page, you can also click to expand it, enter your email address, and hit ‘sign me up’. You’re golden.

If you have a WordPress account, you can also just click the ‘follow’ button at the top of the page when you’re signed in. This will add us to your blogroll but not your email. But you probably already knew this, you smart blogger, you! Also, if you’ve dated one of us and sometimes skim your blogroll at work, follow at your own risk. Heh.

I’m making this little announcement partially because our # of current followers is what some might call “sad and pathetic”, but more importantly because I was chatting with a friend recently who had no idea you could sign up for email notifications and was just coming to our site daily to check for new content. Which is wonderful! But also a pain in the ass. And if there’s one thing I value in life, it’s enabling myself (and others) to be lazy. So there you have it.

that was easy

Now, on to today’s main event, our pic of the week:

tub

Okay then. That is… something. I know I don’t need to remind you all about my feelings re: bathroom selfies. I mean, I’ve lambasted dudes for taking a picture fully clothed while standing up in their bathrooms. Meanwhile this suitor just dropped trou, drew a bath and went straight for the money shot (God, I actually hope not, although who knows where that right hand has disappeared to…)

GrossedSNL_zps78c71cbb

I’m thinking that this guy probably posted this…unique shot in the hopes that the ladies of Okcupid would gaze at his bare, hairy chest and be instantly turned on, so turned on that they would HAVE to shoot him a message in the hopes that they’d be invited into that tub. But honestly, I took one look at those outrageously fluffy bubbles and thought of one thing, and one thing only:

Proooobably not what Mr. Tub Man was going for, but there you have it. God, Sesame Street was the best.

In case you were wondering, here were the next thoughts that ran through my head, in chronological order:

  • Thought #2: Dude. We both know you’re going to drop that phone straight into the bubbly abyss, and then where will we be? Without more sensual selfies, that’s where we’ll be.
  • Thought #3: The placement of that ‘x’ is fantastic. Come on, dude nipples are funny.
  • Thought #4: Do we think he was playing a sensual jam in the background? I’d like to think that he was. And I’d like to think that it was this classic (the bath action starts at 1:55, FYI). Take it away, boys:

 

Dating in the New Year-Resolutions that I want to keep

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bridget jones

(It physically pains me not to be able to embed the accompanying clip from Bridget Jones here, since it’s so befitting. But APPARENTLY no one reveres this cinematic triumph enough to upload it to Youtube. Click here if you’d like to watch. Aaaand I’m out. Take it away, L!)

It’s that time of year again, folks. Christmas has come and gone, and in the days between now and January 1. most people are concocting elaborate New Year’s resolutions to lose all the pounds they put on through competitive holiday eating and drinking.  Due to my deep and dependent relationship with food, I am not actually sure the traditional “lose 10 lbs” resolution is going to work for me.

tina fey food

However, just because I’m not giving up my night cheese does not mean I don’t have some very rigorous resolutions up my sleeve, a few which are dating-related. And what better people to share them than with my co-bloggers and our wonderful readers? Here goes…

Resolution #1: Date one guy at a time

When I started dating this year, I felt like I was at a Golden Corral. For those of you who aren’t blessed enough to know firsthand, Golden Corral is an incredible, all you can eat buffet where for about $12.99 you can, “HELP YOURSELF TO HAPPINESS.” 

I mean, the slogan for online dating is more like “Help yourself to herpes,” (L, you’re hilarious as always, but THAT SLOGAN IS TERRIFYING) but you get my gist. I basically went to the buffet, grabbed a mish-mash of delicious, though mostly unhealthy, treats, and ate them all at once.  I tried the date the nice guy/ and sleep with the sex idiot combo (more than once). I tried doctors, several Booze Allen consultants (though stopped shy of Edward Snowden, dammit!), former Dominos pizza employees, and music industry moguls sound engineers.  Why is dating multiple guys so appealing?

First, instead of trying to find a guy who has all the qualities you enjoy in another person, you have the much easier task of enjoying different things about different people at once. You can have a great dinner conversation with Bachelor A, and then leave and have great, ahem, non conversation with Bachelor B. Bachelor C takes you to a concert and you talk about music for hours, but he has no idea who Elizabeth Warren is. That’s ok, because you’ll have plenty of time to discuss the next election with Bachelor D a few nights later over a nice dinner.

Second, You don’t get too attached to any one person. After the abrupt demise of my very long term and very serious relationship last fall, I was terrified (and still sort of am) of ever getting close to someone again, and then getting hurt when things ended. What better way to ward off possible attachments than to not commit to one person? Who cares if Bachelor B disappears? You were seeing two other guys, and chances are at least one of them is still around. Score!

However, my whole “I’m so damaged/ I’ll never love again” thing is getting to be like a bad Grey’s Anatomy season series that will never end.

greys-anatomy-ending

(MEREDITH. PLEASE STOP COMPLAINING WHILE EMPHATICALLY MOVING YOUR HEAD TO ONE SIDE.)

I don’t want to be the main character in Shonda Rhime’s next TV show about some high-powered, damaged woman who keeps smacking love in the face (literally).

In 2014, I want to start to approach dating with the possibility of maybe wanting more than just a fling, and to do this, I need to hunker down and determine what qualities I really want in a boo and what I can’t abide by.  And I think that will be a lot easier and more effective if I evaluate my feelings for one guy at a time. Which leads me to…

Resolution #2: Stop worrying about what he’s thinking, and focus on what I’m thinking

For all the boasting I’ve done on this blog (not to mention IN LIFE) about having the running title of “most insecure” among my friends (vying with C, of course!), crippling self doubt and second guessing are actually habits I want to ditch in 2014. It’s kinda tiring living in a mild state of terror, waiting for the worst to happen:

anxiety girl

So, instead of agonizing constantly about what my dates are thinking about me, why they keep asking me out, if they are only in it so they can rob me/get a job/learn Swedish/make friends with all my friends, I am going to start asking myself more, “why am I in this? what do I want? Do I really like this guy? Why or why not?”

Resolution #3: Get buzzed, not drunk

As you know, the ladies of StuCu love themselves some liquor, and I’m proud/sad to say I probably hold the title for biggest heavyweight in this category. While there are a couple great semi-valid reasons to get drunk on dates, there are also a couple of not-so-great consequences to this practice:

  1. Sleeping with guys you don’t even like.
  2. Not totally remembering what you said the next day. I.e., “Did I really tell that guy that I wanted to send anyone caught listening a to Dave Matthew Band songs to jail and Chinese water torture them? Right after he said his favorite song was Ants go Marching? EEEKKK” (Though honestly, if this was his favorite song, he deserved the insult. ) (Based on my highly scientific points system, this statement is completely true.)
  3. The weekday hangovers. Mama’s not 22 anymore.
  4. Did I mention the sleeping with guys you don’t even like thing? Cause it kinda sucks.

Happy New Year, y’all. Here’s hoping that next year, I go from this kinda single lady–

dancing with the computer

to this kind of single lady–

single ladies beyonce

*Obviously I mean Beyonce, not Kelly or Michelle. (Personally, I’d take Kelly, too. Sorry, Michelle).

See you lovely readers in 2014!

first date with…oh, who cares? first date!

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BREAKING STUCU NEWS:

I WENT ON A DATE!!!!!!!!!!

November goal: met. Curse: reversed. Dry spell: over. Dignity: regained (sort of). God, am I relieved. Mostly because I publicly set an (admittedly unnecessary) goal for myself and then panicked when I realized I might not actually achieve that goal. While the rest of you clowns were busy growing facial hair, I’ve been feverishly pimping myself out on the Okc. So I am thrilled to report that I made it with a week and a half to spare!

What’s that? You want to hear about my actual date and not just endure me taking victory laps for this entire post? You guys are adorable, but sure, I’ll indulge you.

My date was with D, a nice, nerdy guy who messaged me about a week ago. His first message to me was actually great, albeit a bit overly enthusiastic, but when I clicked on his profile I was met with some insane shit. First of all it was way way WAY too long. Mama has a life and a lot of prime time TV to get to, so she doesn’t have time to plow through a personal memoir while searching for a date. Second, he actually mentioned that his ex-girlfriend helped him write said profile (!!!!!!!) (boys, do I really need to tell you that mentioning an ex in your ONLINE DATING PROFILE is considered poor form? Also, D, your ex did not do you any favors, I assure you). And third, his pictures were comically outdated–I believe the oldest time stamp was from 2003. To put this in perspective, in 2003 I was obsessing over my upcoming high school senior trip to Disney World and listening to this on repeat:

Who am I kidding? I STILL listen to that on repeat. Fantastic jam. The point is, call me crazy, but it seems like a picture taken when I was probably still in high school and viewed when I was two weeks away from attending my 10 year reunion might be considered slightly outdated.

Anyway, the long, insane profile normally would have been a deterrent, as would the vintage photos from a bygone era, but beggars can’t be choosers and more importantly, D’s message was actually really nice and normal. So I replied, and we had a brief back and forth. Impatient to meet my deadline, I asked him out for a drink and we made plans for the only time we were both free, which was early evening on Sunday (SO creepy). D suggested we meet at a trendy speakeasy that I had been meaning to try but hadn’t gotten around to. The place was so trendy that I had difficulty locating it (here were his directions):

unnamed

If that’s not the start of an episode of SVU, I don’t know what is. When I found it, D was standing outside with a sheepish look on his face. The place was inexplicably closed. Honestly I was just so excited that D appeared to be all six feet one inches that he claimed on his profile, and was actually cuter in person than in his wildly outdated photos, that I didn’t care.

We headed down the street to another bar and it wasn’t until we sat down, ordered drinks, and had an ominous moment of awkward silence that I considered this fact: I might be REALLY rusty at this whole first date thing. I mean, It’s been five months. Maybe everything I’d learned up until then had faded and this was going to be a spectacularly awkward evening of social failure. Luckily, before I could think about this any more, D piped up to ask me a question and I didn’t have time to worry about my romantic shortcomings again.

It was a nice date. D was smart, interesting, did not take himself too seriously, talked a lot but also listened with interest about what I had to say. We had some drinks, ordered some snacks, and had a reasonably nice time. I told D about the blog which he loved and wanted to know more about (I did refrain from telling him that he was single handedly responsible for breaking my dry spell). There were a few over shares on his part, mostly about his terrible relationship with his dad (yikesaroo), which surprised me given the fact that I felt like I already knew his life story from his anthology of a profile. 

At one point in the date, D asked me how to pronounce my last name. Without thinking anything of it, I told him (this is not an uncommon question) and then excused myself to go to the restroom. Walking back, it hit me: I never told this dude my last name. This is an established first date policy of mine. What. the. fuck?? Did I have a stalker on my hands, or just your run of the mill serial killer? Is that why he wanted to meet me in front of an unmarked metal gate? Does he know my social security number and blood type, too? Should I sneak out the bathroom window like in the movies? But wait, if he knows my last name he could probably find me anyway. GAH.

I pulled it together in the ladies room and decided I needed to confront this potential killer. Here is what transpired:

S: So, I just realized… I never told you my last name.

D: I was waiting for you to say that.

S: Oh God, you’re not going to kill me, are you?

D: Huh?

S: How did you find out my last name?

D: I mean, I work with computers for a living. You told me enough about your job and industry that when I searched those facts plus your first name, your LinkedIn profile came right up. I’m sorry, is that totally creepy?

S: Sort of, yes. But I also kind of respect it. My friends and I are semi-pro stalkers and we can usually find out some pretty incredible stuff about our dates with minimal clues to go off of. Usually this terrifies men, though. The tables have kind of turned.

D: You’ve met your stalking match. So what did you find out about me?

S: Actually, I didn’t even Google you. (I didn’t tell D that this was because there was literally no time/I had a deadline to meet.)

Not much else to report on this date, honestly. It was perfectly nice, and D was perfectly nice. Do we actually have chemistry/a ton in common? That remains to be seen. But I certainly think it’s worth another look. I am trying really hard not to compare him to H, who I had off the charts chemistry with from our very first date, because one, that’s not fair and two, obviously that off the charts chemistry didn’t really lead to anything good anyway.

D drove me home (no kiss, no attempted murder) and we agreed we’d like to go out again, but I know I don’t need to remind you all to take that agreement with a GIGANTIC grain of salt. An iceberg of salt, if you will. The probability that D fades away is incredibly high so for now, I’ll just be congratulating myself for achieving my November goal without having to literally pay an escort service.

self-high-five-liz-lemon-gif

Date rating: 7/10. D was a nice, interesting, smart, TALL dude with great manners and a lot to say. Not sure if I feel anything for him beyond that, but it’s certainly worth revisiting to find out. The stalking was a little creepy, but I can’t really judge someone for doing something that is essentially a dating best practice here at StuCu.

 

The Points System

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If you read L’s sports blogger post earlier this week you already know that LSD are huge fans of the show The League. The three of us have been binge watching the new season on Netflix simultaneously, LOLing at Ruxin’s antics, drooling over Pete, and being grossed out by Rafi.

Sorry to suddenly turn this into a 100% League themed blog (lest you all get the idea that I actually like football, because incidentally I hate it) but a plot line in one of the episodes caught my attention. Pete, the scruffy, adorable ne’er do well, tells the guys about a “points system” that he’s devised for picking up players off the waiver wire (real talk, I had no idea what that even was before I watched the show), and how it also works in the dating world. Basically Pete assigns players (or women) who are left after the draft (or who are single) points for their positive and negative attributes, and then makes a decision based on their final score. I swear I searched for half an hour for a Youtube clip of this damn scene but had no luck whatsoever. The best I could muster was an Amazon Video free preview clip of the scene that they won’t allow me to embed into this post. #bloggingfail. If you care, here it is. According to Pete:

“Those who are left, myself included, have a ton of baggage. Maybe it’s a bad hamstring. Maybe she’s got daddy issues. The system allows me to ferret it all out and make the right pick.”

Please know that Pete also claims women older than 28 qualify as the female equivalent of leftovers from the draft. Well thanks, Pete/writers for The League. I’ll be turning 29 in less than three months, so that makes me feel faaaaannntastic. 

megryan_crying

But Pete claims this is also one of the reasons the point system is so useful: the older we get, the less time we have to BS around with someone who’s not right for us. He shows the other guys how efficiently his system works by using it on a strange woman in a bar. It’s simple arithmetic: add points for the positives, subtract for the negatives, and make a call based on their final score. In the end, the joke is on Pete, because a girl who he goes out with and really likes uses the points system on him and decides he doesn’t measure up. Pete ends up with a -7 score, and no second date.

I would be lying if I said this concept didn’t intrigue me a bit. The thing is, I think it’s something that most single people are already unofficially doing in our heads. Here are some examples of things that I subconsciously keep track of. I have assigned each item a numerical value of importance using the Pete Eckhart system:

  • Taller than me: +1
  • Over 6 feet tall: +2
  • Has all his hair: +1
  • Good job and/or advanced degree: +3
  • Funny/makes me laugh: +3
  • Friendly/good conversationalist: +3
  • Good taste in music: +2
  • Lives in the city: +1
  • Poor grammar/spelling: -1
  • Bad at making plans: -2
  • Egotistical/takes himself too seriously: -3
  • Politically conservative: -2
  • Looks at his phone a lot during our date: -2
  • Texts every five seconds: -2
  • Alludes to past relationships/baggage/mommy issues/inability to commit early on: -4
  • Bad tipper: -2
  • Likes Dave Matthews Band: -1

Now, pretty much all of these categories could be used across the board on any date, but sometimes things come up that are more…individualized. Here are two examples of positives and negatives that were specific to a certain guy:

  • A the DJ owned his own successful business: +2
  • J who dumped me in a crowded bar loved…wait for it….DISNEY WORLD: -4. I’m sorry, but I am terrified of grown ass adults without kids who go to Disney World every year. I’m sure dissing the happiest place on Earth makes me sound like a crotchety bitch–don’t get me wrong, I love a good Disney movie, and the two times I went to Disney (when I was a kid and our senior trip in high school) were a blast. But I don’t get adults who voluntarily and repeatedly visit an amusement park in ORLANDO, FLORIDA when they could be traveling to…basically anywhere else.

Please know that in typical foot-in-mouth S fashion, I went on this exact rant in front of J before I knew this about him. He got really quiet for a second and then replied (in a super serious tone): “My whole family goes to Disney once a year. We’re actually going again over Christmas.”

Whooooooooopsieeeeee

Awkward-Disney-1

(I have no idea who these people are, btdubs. I googled ‘awkward family Disney World pics’ and this family came up. Clearly they’re about as pleased with my Disney trash talking as J was).

So yeah. I secretly kind of believe that whole exchange was the real reason  J dumped me but let’s be honest, it wasn’t meant to be anyway. Mama is not about to spend her Christmas in line for the “It’s a Small World” ride.

Annywayyy…. sorry for that tangent! Back to the topic at hand. Last night, in the name of Stucu research, I took the points system for a spin on someone I’ve been messaging but haven’t gone out with yet. Here’s what his breakdown looks like (remember, I haven’t met this dude):

  • lives in the city: +1
  • lawyer who seems to like his job: +3
  • Politically liberal: +2
  • Over 6 feet tall: +2
  • Excellent spelling and grammar: +1
  • Asks good questions/acts interested: +2
  • Sort of funny: +1
  • Disappeared in the middle of our messaging and then returned weeks later apologizing and claiming he had been “really busy”: -4
  • STILL taking his sweet ass time to make plans (too many messages): -2
  • MENTIONED TWICE THAT HE’S IN MENSA: ……–5? Yes, -5 is fair.

That last one….I just can’t. Am I the only one who finds that to be incredibly lame and gross? It’s like adults who still talk about their SAT score: CALM DOWN. You’re really smart. I get it. I actually originally thought this was grounds for dismissal because ew, eyeroll…

30-Rock-111

but when I did the math, this guy (also a J) squeaked by with a +1. If he doesn’t fall off the face of the Earth (again), I may still give him a shot because 1. he has a positive point value and I want to test this theory and 2. there’s a fairly good chance that he’d show up to our date wearing this:

score big mensa

and legitimately attempt to test my IQ. Which let’s face it, would make for some fanfuckingtastic blog fodder.

One final note on the points system: while I think it’s fun, efficient, and maybe useful to a point, it’s also super arbitrary: how much is something like sense of humor really “worth” to me in relation to say, height? I’m not sure quantifying it is that helpful an exercise. Especially because I also think it discounts a huge part of what’s important in finding a match, and that’s chemistry. Sure, I can assign points to ‘makes me laugh’ and ‘good conversationalist’, but that doesn’t entirely cover it. L and I were recently discussing this: there is that intangible connection/compatibility/attraction that you just have with some people and you don’t with others, period. And having done the online dating thing for a while now, I honestly believe in chemistry more than ever. Maybe it’s the format of getting to know someone before actually meeting them… I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been out with a guy who was nice and cool enough over email and who I was excited to meet, and then it just fell totally flat in person.

Also, I think it’s much harder to find that intangible connection than it is to come across many of the things on my “list” (with the exception of ‘good at making plans’ and ‘over 6 feet tall’. Tall dudes who can plan an outing, holler at me!). For instance, K would have done well on the points system, but I just wasn’t feeling it with him. No chemistry. Meanwhile, with other dudes that would get a mediocre score at best, my chemistry has been off the charts. I think the key (and what makes it so hard to meet someone awesome) is to find a combination of both.

So, dear readers, what do you think of Pete Eckhart’s points system? Is it unromantic BS, or do you think there’s actually something to it? If you’re single, have you ever weighed the pluses and minuses of a date or do you just go with your gut?

Also, while we’re at it, should I give Mensa dude a chance or get rid of him? (rest assured I’ll still make my own decision, but I’m curious to hear what you guys think):

At the movies with S

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A few weeks ago I was home on a Friday night doing some hardcore crafting (who has two thumbs and is doing her part to fulfill every stereotype about single women out there? This gal! Just give it another month or so before I splurge on a subscription to Cat Fancy.) I was watching Comcast On Demand (The Newsroom is back, bitches. McKenzie McHale 4 life) when I realized all three of the movies they were promo-ing the hell out of were movies I had seen on dates. And uh, hello, I have a dating blog, so I think it’s high time I dished to you guys about them. Shall we?

Movie Date #1: Moonrise Kingdom

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This date was over a year ago, last June to be exact. It was a third date with J, who I’ve mentioned on the blog before (more on him later). We had dinner beforehand and had a really nice time… good conversation, playful banter, flirting etc. It bore more of a resemblance to those dreaded Match.com commercials than any date I’d had before. It was so fun that we totally lost track of time and basically had to run down the street to the theater to make the movie. The tiny theater was full so I grabbed us two seats in the back while J ran to the bathroom.

The previews had started and I was just catching my breath and getting settled when J appeared and asked me to switch sweats. Judging him immediately for being a seating prima donna, I thought, ‘Uggghhhh can this dude just sit down, Jesus’ and audibly sighed, gathering my popcorn, diet coke and purse dramatically. J looked really sheepish as he explained, in the quiet theater, ‘Yeahhh, sorry to be a pain, but I’m actually deaf in my left ear so… I won’t be able to hear you if we sit this way. That’s why I wanted to switch. ‘

Face palm. FACE. PALM.

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So let’s review. I threw my date some serious shade for making a simple request, and it turns out he was making that request to accommodate an actual disability. Liz, if I may call upon your wisdom once again:

liz lemon man

After that special little exchange, the date was (mercifully) uneventful. Fun, but uneventful. We switched seats, got settled, and enjoyed the movie. BONUS, J was able to hear me. It was actually a good date flick… fun, ridiculous, and sweetly romantic. J drove my home afterwards and we kissed in his car.

Date rating: 8/10. Good date, good conversation beforehand, good movie, good makeout session. Only one wildly awkward faux pas by yours truly. 

What happened with J? In case you don’t recall, J happens to be the dude I mentioned a few months ago who after casually dating for most of the summer broke it off with me in a crowded bar. He literally drove into the city during rush hour, found parking, and met me in a popular place for happy hour, just to tell me he didn’t want to see me anymore. Yeesh, that was rough. So actually I don’t know why I was still feeling bad about my theater behavior because it turns out, J deserved to feel a little embarrassment. 

Movie Date #2: This is 40

Extra Large Movie Poster Image for This Is 40

This was a second date back in January. The most comical thing about this outing was the fact that my date, A, was 39, by far the oldest guy I’ve ever gone out with. Naturally, our asses had barely hit our seats before I started a relentless barrage of jokes at A’s expense, featuring me pointing over at him repeating, ‘THIS is forty. This right here, people!” and LOLing obnoxiously to myself. That shtick carried us through the previews and well past the credits rolling at the end. Luckily A was a pretty good sport, all things considered. Incidentally the movie wasn’t great… mama loves me some Rudd and those Apatow nuggets couldn’t have been cuter, but it was essentially a movie about two people struggling with their long term relationship and the misery of middle age. Depressing date fodder, needless to say.

The movie ended, I continued to ham it up with the old age jokes as we walked out, and then we (drumroll please) made out in A’s car in the empty parking lot. Yup, I went out with a 40 year old and then made out with him in his parked vehicle like we were both 17. Or should I say, barely 17…

I’m sorry (I’m not sorry), but Meatloaf just makes everything better. You’re welcome. 

Date rating: 8/10. Despite the meh movie, the date was fun, non-awkward and basically stress free. And a little making out in an empty Loews parking lot on a weeknight never hurt anyone, AMIRITE?

What happened with A? We casually dated on and off for months, but homeboy claimed he didn’t want a serious relationship despite legitimately being over the hill. I honestly didn’t want to seriously date him either; he was a little wild for my taste and seemed to have a serious Peter Pan thing going on. After losing touch with him for a while I did discover (thank you, Internet. Judgers of my stalking can move right along, please) that he is now (another drumroll, por favor) seriously dating someone. And although his real life Mr. Big impression turned out to be bullshit, I honestly do wish him the best. It was fun, A, and I hope you do find true love before you’re old enough to score an AARP card. Because that’s seriously right around the corner.

Movie Date # 3: Admission

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This was also a second date with a guy named D who was fun but who I didn’t think I wanted to date seriously. Our shared obsession with Tina Fey prompted him to suggest this movie. It was one of the first things we discussed, probably because my Okcupid profile opens with an over the top anecdote about how my life’s dream is to become the third sidekick to Amy Poehler and Tina Fey’s dynamic duo. My girl crush on Tina knows no bounds, and the fact that she’s from Philly is just icing on the big lesbian cake I’ve baked in her honor.

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To quote Elizabeth Banks in Pitch Perfect: this girl could turn me.

Now, speaking of Philly, there’s something I need to explain about my city. And I say this with all the love in my heart of a parent talking about their least successful (but secret favorite) kid: Philly is lacking some…seemingly basic amenities that any outsider would ASSUME a major city would have. Such as a normal, large movie theater centrally located anywhere downtown. There are tiny Ritz theaters showing a bevy of independent flicks, and then there’s the dreaded UA Riverview. Please, if you have a moment, enjoy these stellar yelp reviews of the Riverview (or as I’ve heard it referred to, the Riverspew).*

*Disclaimer: Any insane, bigoted rants possibly seen on that yelp page are not the opinion of this blog.

Long story short: I hate the Riverview. It’s dirty, noisy, and someone makes a scene pretty much every time I go. Naturally, it was the site of my date with D. Luckily, the movie wasn’t exactly popular, and we went pretty early on a weeknight, so when we walked into the theater there were only two other people there. Phew, I thought. At least we can watch the movie without any wild disruptions. Or maybe make out if it’s bad? In the back of an empty theater that could be fun.

My date, however, had other ideas. There’s no delicate, PC way to share this fact, so I’m just going to throw it out there as it pertains to my story. For those of you who don’t know me personally (all three of you): I’m white. Painfully white. I mean, I did open this blog post with the phrase ‘hardcore crafting’ and then proceed to embed a Meatloaf music video, so this should not come as a shock to anyone at this juncture. My date, D, is black. So anyway, about a minute into the previews, D turned to me, chuckling sheepishly, and said:

D: I have to warn you about something before the movie starts.

S: Okay?

D: You know how a stereotype can be racist, but also true?

S: …I guess?

D: Well… I kind of talk at the movies. A lot. 

S: You do?

D: I know it’s the biggest cliche in the world, but when this gets going I guarantee I will end up commenting out loud and not even realize I’m doing it. Just let me know if I’m bugging the shit out of you, okay?

S: O…kay.

He said this entire thing in a jokey way, so I honestly had NO clue if he was pulling my leg. Any minute I thought he was going to turn to me and be like HAH! I got you good. Of course I don’t shout at the movies.

What actually happened was the movie started, and not 10 minutes in, D started shouting. Okay, maybe not shouting. But commenting VERY loudly, sometimes to me but sometimes just to the air/universe, about things that were happening in the movie. I was paralyzed, again not sure if I was being Punk’d, trying to figure out if I should laugh, roll my eyes, or tell him to shut the f*ck up. The theater was mostly empty, but this honestly made it even more awkward when the couple five rows in front of us turned around at the noise. Because who is it causing the disturbance? Oh hey just the ONLY OTHER PEOPLE IN THE THEATER. The other thing that made this behavior particularly ridiculous was the genre of movie… we weren’t watching like, an action or a horror movie where surprising or crazy things even happened. We were watching a dull, semi serious romantic comedy about APPLYING TO COLLEGE.

The thing is, D was actually really sweet. Case in point: he told me when we started messaging that he was trying his hand at baking for the first time, and I joked that he owed me cookies after revealing that fact. Well sure enough, he showed up to our first date with homemade cookies. And then at the movies, he smuggled a new, delicious, still warm batch into the theater for us to snack on. I mean, thoughtful, right? So I decided to laugh off this ridiculous turn of events. Actually by the end I was laughing harder at the spectacle my date was making than at the actual movie. I even made some loud commentary of my own towards the end, because ‘When in the Riverview’, right?

Date rating: 7/10. As always, Tina was a vision, but the movie itself was bad (what I could hear of it at least). And my date caused a bit of a scene. However, he also made me LOL more than once and fed me fresh homemade cookies. It was an unexpectedly fun night.

What happened with D?

Funny you should ask (I know, no one asked) but I actually saw D yesterday. We’re not exclusively dating–not even close. I hadn’t seen him in over a month before we met for happy hour last night. And I still don’t think I’ll ever seriously date him; I just don’t feel a crazy connection with him. But he’s a nice, fun, funny dude who lives in my ‘hood and we get along well. I’m dating other people, and I have no doubt that he is, too. But as a painfully single 28 year old, it’s always nice to have that one ace in the hole (that’s what she said) who you can keep around to have fun with without any complications or drama. Unless, of course, disrupting a mediocre romcom counts as drama.

Message Monday: Unsolved Mystery

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Hey there, loyal readers. Just a heads up, LSD are busy ladies at the moment. Between moving, vacays, bridal showers and bdays, we may be a bit light on posts this week. Thanks for your patience 🙂 (L, I know how much you appreciated that emoticon).

Anyway, happy Message Monday! This one hits close to home for me–literally.

message monday ht

The part of the message that I blacked out? You guessed it: my high school.

Running into someone you know on okcupid is a very real fear of mine, much like being murdered by a date and becoming the subject of a Lifetime movie. You put your profile out there, and sure it’s “anonymous”, but your picture is still attached to it. And it’s the f-cking internet; nothing is really anonymous (except, we hope, this blog!). So yes, sometimes I worry that my boss could stumble upon my profile and read the sex questions I answered. Or a co-worker. Or a family member. Or a crush or hook up from back in the day. Basically anyone I’ve met, ever. Because of this fear, the number of questions about sex (there are hundreds) that I’ve actually answered basically amount to:

liz lemon treat

Also at the top of this list: former classmates. And don’t worry, this isn’t the first time this has happened to me, or even the second. TWICE before I’ve run into dudes I went to high school with, I guess hardly surprising given the fact that my hometown is less than 10 miles outside of Philly. L and I went to a pretty small high school, though; I believe our graduating class was 175-ish people. We literally know every single person in our class and in the classes 1-2 grades below and above. So I honestly wasn’t expecting to have to play the ‘who the eff is that?’ game until this fall at my (drumroll please) ten year reunion. (F-ck, I’m old). And I figured at least then I’d be with my friends, we’d be drunk, and possibly decide to perform an impromptu interpretive dance:

So when this dude messaged me and I didn’t recognize him at all, I figured I was just having a brain fart and that my friends would ID him immediately. I sent out the appropriate mass text with that screen cap, plus his full profile picture which it’s worth noting is a legitimate head shot/glamour shot (which you may recall is on my list of profile pic no no’s from back in the day). 

ht head shot

Can’t say it any better than my friend did:

dexter

Anyway, no one had ANY IDEA who this terrifying 29 year old bisexual claiming to be our classmate was. So I responded to him, curious now about this mystery:

ht convo

Ummm okay.

1. ‘We probably never crossed paths in school’–Creepy, slash you’re obviously right since I have NO IDEA who you are.

2, ‘You clearly appear to be the best looking’

donna excuse me

Hey, asshole. First of all, that’s not even true. My friends are mad cute. And since you claim to have such a stellar memory, they were also adorable in high school, even though we all had slightly more questionable fashion sense back then.

romymichele

Second, based on your picture I would bet that you’re probably on a registered sex offenders list somewhere, so I’m not really sure you’re in the position to judge anyone on their looks. Third, do you think that I’m actually pathetic enough to fall for this blatantly disingenuous, totally lame attempt at flattery? Oh gee, a creepy stranger on okcupid claiming to know me from 10 years ago insulted my friends, but he thinks I’m cute! BE STILL MY HEART.

Men.

I was officially grossed out by this mystery acquaintance, but now it was basically my mission in life to figure out who he was. I was this close to making my mom go into our attic, find one of my yearbooks and flip through the entire class of 2002 over the phone with me, but I figured I’d save her that trip if I could and check with some other friends from high school first (you’re welcome, mom).

I saw some of those friends on Saturday night, and the search continued. We named every kid we could think of with that first name, but nothing checked out. We texted another friend who lives in NYC and put her on the task force. She thought she had a guess, but then someone actually did consult a yearbook upon returning home and ruled it out:

Picture4

So as of Monday, July 29th at 12:30 pm, the case of the creepy classmate remains open. If anyone from my high school has any leads, they can leave an anonymous tip in the comments section. We’ll see you next time on…

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