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Dating Is Weird

• December 12, 2011
• 18:48

  The Southern Girlfriend

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  I may be Southern, but I'm one'a dem progressive Southerners.  Ya know, a pro-choice, pro-gay rights, Obama-sticker-toting, severely-lapsed Christian, progressive Southern. I thought I knew SO much about the world and was just too cool for my little red state. While these things may be true (hehe), my adventures with these West Coaster DIW girls have taught me something - I'll always be a Southerner. And really, that's okay. I'll have manners, respect, domestic skills, high expectations, and other pros and cons that we're prone to. However, as the sweet Serial Monogamist recently pointed out to me, I'm also a Southern Girlfriend.
  
  Southern Girlfriend noun : A female from the Southern United States who, once in a monogamous relationship, shows a different side of her personality that exaggerates any tendencies toward bossiness, neediness, and short tempers.
  
  I will admit that when SM called me this, it was kind of a shock. In fact, I was a mite offended once I realized what she was saying. I'd never heard this term, and I suspect she made it up, but I get it. I'd been snuggling with my dude after a hard day, letting him dote on me, and drinking it up. But in the meantime, I'd made sure he'd called his mother. And then I made sure he washed his hands before dinner (In fairness, he'd been rubbing my feet.). And then I used a baby voice for no apparent reason. And then I asked him to get me a drink. And then I pouted when he said something negative. And then I asked him to do something that I should've gotten up and done myself.
  
  WHO AM I? What kind of person does this? Especially a person like me who never asks for help! This is the same boyfriend who I wouldn't let drive me (four hours) to the airport, and fussed at me for never asking for assistance. And SM was the one who told me that I should let my wonderful boyfriend do sweet things for me. So, is it the big s**t that I'm against, but I can revel in the little things? Is it harder to say "no" in person?
  
  Regardless, here's the great part of being Southern - if you find a Southern boy, he expects a strong woman and knows how to please her. Southern folks come from strong Southern mommas who rear great Southern men (and women). We like to be handy and helpful and to make others happy. I would argue that we really do have the last bastions of gentlemen and ladies who would do anything for the ones we love, and a hell of a lot even for a stranger on the street. Don't believe me? Ask SM - she fell hook, line, and sinker for a handsome, blue-eyed boy with a sweet Southern accent and a heart that will do anything for her. And his momma.

  
  

  
• November 28, 2011
• 11:57

  Blondie and the hottie from the gym

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  ** Today we have a guest post from Blondie, who has agreed to share some of her dating adventures in the city. Like some people we know (ahem) Blondie is enjoying a fairly fresh foray into singledom, making good use of the wonders and joys of the Internet. ***

  Friday night was supposed to be my dating night off. Thursday night I had been with a couple I see, and I had a date on Saturday with a guy I've been seeing for a little while - so Friday I was going relax and give my "body" a rest.

  I ended up going out to the bars with a couple friends. The plan was just to have a beer or two, go home and watch a movie. Well, I get to the bar and we hang out a bit and I realize that this guy who I've had a massive crush on at the gym is there. Not some guy I've seen - but a hot 6 foot 7 inch tall basketball player I've been watching while I cool down on the track for the last 5 years.

  I tell my friend the story and he talks me into talking to the guy. Long story short - I talk to him and end up going home with him that night. Yep - I got to sleep with my gym crush. But that's not all.

  Side note - this gym guy ends up not being very bright. It was an interesting situation for me - I felt like one of those guys who sleeps with hot dumb chicks. While we were hanging out post sex, I was found myself having an internal debate about hotness vs. intellect. Does his hotness make up for lack of smarts? Would I ever dare bring this guy around my friends? Would I be comfortable keeping a guy around for sex just because he was hot, even if he wasn't that interesting to talk to? (I appreciate that this might make me sound like an asshole but I have smart friends and they would call me out on this.)

  But, the sex is fun, I have a good time. And, oddly, after sex, he hung out completely naked until I left. He was up walking around, doing all kinds of things. I thought it was cool how comfortable he was, most guys throw on a pair of boxers or something. Though I guess I could have done without him leaving the door open and looking at and speaking to me while he pissed.

  As we're hanging out afterwards, he asks if I want to spend the night. I say no because, quite frankly, his apartment was kind of a s**t-hole. I don't quite understand how a 32-year-old guy with a professional-type job could live like that. Anyway, I say no thanks and go home at about 3:30am or so. When I got home, I sent him a text saying I made it home safely. He didn't text back until the next day, but this is the conversation:

  
  Me - I made it home safely.

  Him - Who is this?

  Me - Uh ... Blondie. The girl you slept with last night.

  Him - Haha, no seriously, who is this?

  Me - I am serious. Don't you remember?

  Him - I'm in Seattle with my fiance. I think you have the wrong number

  Me - HA! You're right. Wrong number. That's hilarious.

  Well.

  It turns out that I don't have the right phone number for this guy. He just gave me his number, I didn't give him mine. So now, not only did I hook up with the hot dumb guy, but I'm the one who never called again. Part of me feels a tad bad about that, but part of me thinks it's a little funny, if a bit of a bummer because I would like the option of sleeping with him again ... but c'est la vie.

  

  
  

  
• November 27, 2011
• 20:56

  Going Out In Anchorage, AK

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  I recently moved to Anchorage for a job and was curious what it'd be like living in a place where the male to female ratio is skewed, to put it mildly.
  
  "You're going to get raped. I heard they pay for women they're so desperate for pussy up there," said one idiot at a bar when I told her where I was moving.
  
  "8-to-1 guys to girls. You don't even have to be hot to get proposed to I heard," said her friend.
  
  "Get a gun," was my brother's request before boarding the plane.
  
  And with that sage wisdom, I went to a local watering hole to meet some new gal friends two nights ago. I didn't make any effort whatsoever to look cute. In fact, I did the exact opposite. No shower after two days of skiing and hat wearing. I didn't even change out of the sports bra from said ski. I managed some deodorant and a different hat, but not much else. I chose one of my more pointed t-shirts (a bright red shirt called "burning bridges" with an image of a guy burning the bridge between him and a woman on the other side). What the hell anyway with all that stupid romance s**t.
  
  We saddled up to the bar and of course the three old guys sitting to the right of us starting making conversation, but they were fairly easy to not engage. I find old guys far more fun to drink with than younger dudes mainly because they're harmless and have funnier stories. If you tell them you're not interested, they're not butt hurt and they'll often still buy you a drink for being cool enough to not be a complete bitch. Younger guys on the other hand...sigh.
  
  There was one of said younger versions of the male species to the left of my friend. I noticed him glancing at us every 30-45 seconds and looking for a way to insert himself in the conversation. I also noticed him staring at my tits every time he looked over. Did I mention I was wearing a t-shirt and sports bra and am not exactly a Victoria's Secret model? I have pretty much no boobs to speak of, particularly in a sports bra and t-shirt so I was curious what he kept staring at.
  
  He finally figures out how to interrupt our convo with some asinine comment. He asks me a question, to which I ask him why he's been staring at my tits for 40 minutes. With absolutely not a moment's hesitation, he shifts his gaze to my general torso area and does not look up while responding that he's trying to figure out what my shirt means.
  
  "Really? I'm confused how a bridge burning with a man on one side and a woman on the other is confusing."
  
  "Oh. That's a guy, huh?"
  
  "Yep. A guy. Burning a bridge. The shirt's called burning bridges, weird huh?"
  
  The entire time, he has not once lifted his gaze to make eye contact.
  
  "You're still staring at my tits dude."
  
  "I know. I just don't really get your shirt."
  
  I didn't engage him any further except to make a rather horrible, politically incorrect joke a few minutes later. I wanted to give the angry, lesbian feminist vibe because that's never failed in the past to scare guys away, but this guy didn't seem to mind neither my condescension nor general insulting of his ethnic identity. He asked what we were up to later that night.
  
  Might have to take my brother's advice after all.
  
  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  
• November 14, 2011
• 9:00

  Lessons on life and love from Beyonce

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  I recently met my good friend's sister. The way the visit worked out, the sister and I had some time to hang out the following day, after my friend left to fly back to Oregon.
  
  Over a glass of wine, the three of us sat talking, and my friend's sister told me that whenever I woke up in the morning, we could go out and get breakfast together, and she'd be happy to show me around her town a little bit, as I hadn't spent much time there.
  
  "And of course, if you'd like, we can go ring shopping! I know some great jewelry shops!"
  
  Whoa. Wha?
  
  Back up a little bit. I'm in a relationship. Have been for about 2.5 years. I'm 30. In the last year, I moved across the country to be with him. So, would I like to go ahead and get - if not hitched - engaged? Sure. And I don't see the point in pretending that's not the case. I don't try to advertise or bitch about it, but I'm not going to lie about it - definitely not to my closest friends. But, now I have to wonder.
  
  I mean, I figured my friend would give her sister some backstory on me. She knew where my friend and I had met, she knew the basics of why I live in the south ... but is "she's waiting on her slacker boyfriend to propose" on the short list of details about me that I expect people to hear before they meet me? Yikes.
  
  It brought me back to a conversation my boyfriend and I had before we moved out here. Two friends of mine had been together for 10 years, and I knew she was ready to get things moving. Get married, think about starting a family. So when I saw him, and she wasn't around, I'd nudge. And I wasn't subtle.
  
  "Dude. What are you waiting for? When are you going to put a ring on it?"
  
  It made me feel annoying, but I checked with my girlfriend, and she was totally OK with this type of encouragement. [I mean, I could write another blog post about why and how it is that there are certain decisions in hetero relationships for which women are basically removed from the decision-making process. You can't nag. You can't push. You're not supposed to complain, lest you be one of those gross old-fashioned girls who actually - gasp - wants to get married. Yuck. We're not supposed to care. And it's not like you could do something crazy like ask him.]
  
  When my b.f. heard me talk about this couple, and about how the fellow needed to get his s**t together, he wondered if I was trying to give him a hint.
  
  "No, dear. They've been together for a decade. It's a different situation."
  
  But that conversation was a year and a half ago. Are things different? Is living in the south affecting my views on marriage? Out here, people give me a sidelong look when I mention that I moved across the country to live with my boyfriend. People check my hand when I talk about him. I've literally been told that Jesus wants me to get married. His stepmother told him it bothers her that he hasn't at least bought me a ring.
  
  I don't know. But I do know this: I told my boyfriend the ring shopping story when I got home. I'll let him decide what it all means.

  
  

  
• November 04, 2011
• 11:05

  Pay it Forward, Asshat

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  This is about some of the content that you won't find on this blog and WHY it isn't there anymore. Some of the best stuff gets pulled. This is the story of two blog postings that you can't see. I have to make it clear that this blog began in a small town in Oregon called Bend. The "dating pool" in the town would fit in the bottom of a mashed PBR can. We have (almost) all moved to other locations and are too twitterpated right now to be mean little bloggerbunnies.
  
  The first story starts several years ago, while I was perusing a friend's website. I found a link to this site and started reading through the postings. I was amused and appalled, but disgusted in that car-wreck sort of way. I kept reading. I found a posting about someone's disturbing date.
  
  It sounded bizarrely familiar. It was a date I went on. Yes, it was blogworthy how bad the date was. I had blogged it for another blog. Since everyone was wondering who in the world would have gone on a date with this particular Contributor, I left a link to my blog at the end of the "comments" section. It became a Blogwar. It was awesome, but our friends eventually made us make peace with each other and the blog was pulled from this site and the other site as well.
  
  Of course, I swore up and down that I would never do that again to someone, because I then understood how it felt to stumble upon someone else's version of my bad date. Of course... I lied. I'm a blogger.
  
  About a year passed, and I became a contributor to this blog. After a particularly interesting Thanksgiving party, I blogged the evening. That very day, I got an e-mail at my work from the guy whose party it had been. He asked me pretty please to pull the blog posting because it might endanger his livelihood if it got around town that he partied quite that hard. I had no idea that he even knew about the blog, but one of his workmates was an avid reader and was able to identify him from the bits and pieces I dropped throughout the story. We pulled it.
  
  I guess the moral of this story is that you really should not date or party with a blogger, that we are all a bunch of asshats. We really are. We function on the belief that you all want to be the stuff of literature. Send us your stories. Happy dating!!

  
  

  
• October 24, 2011
• 10:00

  A new dating website

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  Just wanted to share with everyone a new dating website you might want to check out! It may be the only site I've ever seen that actually recommends you carry a gun for protection "until Obama takes it from your cold dead hand" har har har.
  
  
  
  Looking for more wackadoodle stuff like this? Start with Stuff Fundies Like.
  
  And if you're not a sodomite, go ahead and check out the site here.

  
  

  
• October 23, 2011
• 17:32

  We're Not Dead Yet!

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  It's been a while, we know. We've missed you, too, baby.
  
  For once, all of us were occupied with our respective boys and didn't have much to bitch about. However, for better or worse, things have changed (at least for this kid).
  
  We've got things cooking, loves. Just bear with us. And until then....
  
  HAPPY DATING!

  
  

  
• September 30, 2011
• 10:41

  For What It's Worth...

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  Since some of y'all seemed to like the posts about By the Numbers, don't forget it comes out today.
  
  I'm gonna go out on a limb and say that it's probably NOT an awesome date movie. Well, not an early-in-the-relationship-date movie. If you know your partner's number and you're secure in your status, by all means, go together. But if you're likely to leave wondering what your date's number is, or whether your number will matter to your date, perhaps that particular person is not your best choice of companion.
  
  Wanna know the craziest thing? I'm hawking an Anna Faris movie and not getting paid to do it. Thank jeebus it's almost the weekend, because I worry about myself.

  
  

  
• September 23, 2011
• 11:55

  Dignity

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  Editors' Note: My friend is the drug dealer. Rad.

  
  

  
• September 19, 2011
• 18:15

  Oh, really? You're on Facebook?

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  So, a few of y'all totally got what I meant about recycling your numbers, and thought that movie looks totally decent. I'll admit that I'm not a huge Anna Faris fan, but something about this movie seems really spot on.
  
  There's a new clip about Facebook-stalking. Done and done. We've all done it, we've all been victims of it. Hell, on the first date with the guy I'm seeing now, he freely admitted to Facebook-stalking me. For a minute, I was kind of turned off. I mean, I hadn't done that (though I had Googled him). Then again, I also knew exactly what I would be doing as soon as I got home. Plus, it made the "do I friend him?" internal debate nonexistent.
  
  In this world of social networking, can we expect not to be cyber-investigated? What is the protocol? Check out this clip and see if you agree with her style...
  
  [www.youtube.com]

  
  

  
• September 12, 2011
• 16:49

  One more time, without feeling.

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  So, I've been thinking lately about numbers. Sex by the numbers. Actually, I guess it's more like the numbers of sex. Every now and then, you hear of someone talking about their "number." I could go into the ins and outs of "does it matter," "should we care," "why are high numbers great for guys and bad for gals," etc.
  
  Because of that last effing double standard, I think a lot of girls have considered reusing our numbers. You know - the relationship ended on a decent basis, the sex was good, you're lonely and horny, and why go find a new guy/number when you could booty call the old one?
  
  I was having this debate with myself not too long ago, thinking of just who I could call, when I ran across this movie. When I was in school, I had a friend who had read in Cosmo (the source of all legitimate sexual information, of course) that the average woman kisses 78 men before she kisses the one she'll marry. That's some lip-whoring, I think, but I don't judge. (I'm the good girl on this site, anyway. Who care what I think.) So, that's the first thing I thought of when I saw this movie. Anna Faris's character doesn't want to add on to her sex number because of a magazine article she read. This trailer just stuck me as so funny - a recycling PSA. I mean really, who hasn't had that feeling? For the good of your sanity and your sex drive, reduce, reuse, recycle, right?
  
  Watch the PSA here and let me know what you think.
  

  
  

  
• September 06, 2011
• 10:26

  The Boyfriending

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  So we've been seeing each other for a while, and as a little gift he made me something out of glass for my office. Just something small. It is beautiful. It is sitting on my desk right now.
  
  "What are you going to tell them about the artist, if they ask?"
  
  "I'll tell them that my Boyfriend made it."
  
  …and then Immediately Regretted It. All I could think of was that scene in “Young Frankenstein” where Frau Blücher belts out “HE VAS MY... BOYFRIEND!” Has it been too short of a time for me to Boyfriend him? He looked dazed for a second and my face erupted with some form of "I'm sorry" or another.
  
  "No, it's okay. I like that you said that."
  
  There are rules, it seems, as to when and where it is proper to Boyfriend or Girlfriend people. I have no idea what the etiquette is and have always seemed to flub it. One guy took such umbrage with the term that I actually broke up with him because even after dating for four months—monogamously and seriously—he still bitched when I used it. Boyfriend. There is something awful about saying the term out loud for the first time… as if it were a binding legal clause and not the term defining the man that you are seeing. I hate that, but I like having a Boyfriend.

  
  

  
• August 25, 2011
• 21:21

  And I Wonder Why I'm Single

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  Tonight I had a First Phone Call with a guy I met on Plenty of Fish. In the course of this 30 minute or so call, I subconsciously did several things that, upon retrospection, don't really scream, "This chick is a keeper!"
  
  - I started the conversation with a sports question. This I blame on nerves - he was watching a baseball game earlier and I was grasping for a topic. However, I failed to steer the topic away from sports and instead opined at length about My Favorite Local Sports Team which, I should add, is a rival of His Team. I can only suppose this may place me in "one of the guys (who pulls for the wrong team)" territory.
  
  - Though he knew I'd been baking all night, I failed to use this as an opportunity to extol the virtues of my buttercream or emphasize my domestic goddess status and take-me-home-to-momma qualities. Every smart girl knows that men's hearts and stomachs are truly linked, but we Southern girls are trained to home in on this weakness. Fail #2.
  
  - I complained about my job and how little money I make. Yeah, I tried to joke about it, but it's just not a smart topic of conversation. What's next, how I've been constipated the past few days?
  
  - As I pulled into the driveway of my house, I exclaimed, "Oh, Dad's still up! I should probably go say good night." He already knew I live at home, and I was kinda looking for a way to end the call. But still, it cant feel good to be met with the equivalent of "No, dude, I can't talk to you anymore because DADDY!"
  
  - I had a conversation with my cat. Okay, really I just said, "hi, sweet man." But I said it with the phone to my ear and in mid-conversation. When dude said, "huh," I said, "Oh, just talking to my cat." I think that to most of the US's male population, that translates to something like "SCARY WEIRD FREAKSHOW RUUUUN!" But I could be wrong. Still, Kitty and I are a package deal, as The Girl Next Door likes to remind me. But hey, she's a crazy cat lady, too.
  
  So, upon further reflection, maybe my subconscious is telling me that I am not or should not be into this guy. Any amateur psychoanalysts care to translate?
  
  HAPPY DATING!!
  
  

  
  

  
• August 21, 2011
• 15:44

  I Can't Make You Love Me If You Don't

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  A few months ago my long-term boyfriend and I split because I decided to move to a different state for a job. He's the best man you could ever ask for and my heart still hurts when I think about the decision. Ever notice how when you first break your heart, it's this intense, all-consuming sort of emotional pain? I'm from Wisconsin and like most solid Mid-Westerners, we swallow our emotions well. Maybe I'm just actually emotionally delayed, but lately the heart break is this constant ache that wasn't there a few months ago. Music has been a huge solace and this video I found today has been on repeat all day. Bon Iver is a good Wisconsin boy so I have extra love for him.
  
  
  

  
  

  
• August 19, 2011
• 11:22

  Giveaway Winner!

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  CONGRATULATIONS to Heather Rose, the winner of our audiobook giveaway!
  One of your lovely DIW-ers will be in touch with you to get more info so that Macmillan can put things in the mail.
  Thanks for all of you who commented and to Macmillan for this chance!
  

  
  

  
• August 16, 2011
• 9:08

  Captain Obvious

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  I am happy to say that I am seeing a card-carrying member of the Human Race now. New One and I went to the Apple Store last night and bought a computer for him. That's not what this is about, though. This is about the unwelcome drunk texts I got from a previous fling-guy this past weekend.
  
  
  (FRIDAY/SATURDAY 2:00 A.M.)
  
  HIM: Are U in?
  
  ME: Functionally asleep. Goodnight. Been lights-out for almost an hour now.
  
  HIM: What floor are you on again?
  
  ME: Shuddap.
  
  HIM: But I am in the elevator.
  
  ME: You have a home to go to don't be weird like this.
  
  HIM: The only weird part is that you don't want to f#ck me.
  
  Me: You're being really weird now and by weird I mean illegal.
  
  HIM: Okay, if U say so.
  
  
  (SATURDAY/SUNDAY 2:10 A.M.)
  
  HIM: Hi. Sex? I like it :)
  
  
  (MONDAY, 6:09 P.M.)
  
  HIM: Sorry about Saturday. I was drunk which is never an excuse! Sorry!
  
  
  This evening New One and I are going to dinner and a movie. My phone will be turned off at night from now on.

  
  

  
• August 14, 2011
• 7:25

  How Not to "Do the Online Thing"

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

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  There's been a lot of talk lately about online dating and what to do and how to meet the love of your life. Recently on Jezebel, they ran a piece about how to set up the perfect online dating profile [jezebel.com] Jezebel, y'all. They know their s**t. And for the most part, I completely agree with what they said. As someone who's becoming old news on the online dating scene, allow me to add some more of my personal observations as to Dos and Don'ts when it comes to your profile. Admittedly, they're mostly Don'ts.
  
  - DO have at least one profile picture that was not taken with a s**tty cell phone camera.
  
  - DON'T put up a picture of you and another person of the same sex and fail to differentiate as to which is you. Especially if that's your only picture. Granted, you're probably the ugly one.
  
  - DON'T put up photos of yourself clad head to toe in your alma mater's or favorite sports team's gear. Two reasons: 1) Okay, super fan. Appreciation and commitment are great. But if your best picture was taken while you were drunk at a football game, that's not a good sign. 2) You immediately cross out anyone who hates your school. I once found a really cute guy who was a huge Buckeyes fan. He didn't even get a wink.
  
  - DON'T put up pictures of yourself with children if you don't have children. If you feel that you must, please make it very clear that it's your niece/nephew/best friend's kid/latest kidnap victim.
  
  - DON'T, for goodness' sake, put up a "mirror picture." This especially holds true for you, gentlemen. Not notorious for the cleanliness of your bathrooms, you don't always put out the "take me home to momma" vibe when you scare us away from YOUR home before we've even met.
  
  - DO use proper grammar and real words. Text speak or whatever the young folks are calling it now does not convey that you are a real, grown-up person who knows words and grammar. Once you get to chatting, relax the comma usage a bit, sure. First impressions still count, though.
  
  - DO realize that some things that mean a lot to you are really divisive (see: sports fandom, religion). Sure, talk about how much you love Jesus, but only if you're willing to let Jesus turn away some prospective dates for you.
  
  Okay, so that's just a few things for now. This may have to be an ongoing series...
  Happy Dating!
  
  

  
  

  
• August 10, 2011
• 6:00

  How to Wither an Important Appendage

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  ***GUEST POST!***Here's another post from Jorge, one of our few, but much loved, male readers. It contains some f-bombs, unabashed judgment, and failed physical contact - these are a few of our favorite things.
  How to Wither an Important Appendage
  This is less a story of a date than one that makes me lose faith that I will ever meet the girl of my dreams while horribly intoxicated, as I have always expected I would.
  One night recently, at about 3 am, I found myself with one of my friends, terribly inebriated after spending some time at a bar. Big goddamned surprise. I had spent the eve watching an incredibly attractive girl, who had come to the bar with another friend, totally mindf**k all kinds of dudes who, it appeared, unequivocally spend very little time conversing with anything over, say, a 4.
  I quickly came to realize that, besides being a colossal cocktease, this girl was also very f**king stupid, and an unparalleled belligerent drunk.
  Later, I learned, she was just terribly f**king afflicted with aspergers. Which caused me to retract about 70% of the loathing.
  Anyways, around 3 am, friend 1 and I, in our drunken state, decided that ordering a 26" pizza was a great idea.
  Friend 2 managed to find his way back over, while also managing to leave Aspergers at home. At some point, friend 2 received a phone call from some girl demanding sex or something. She also happened to have a friend who was apparently desperate to make out with someone.
  While friend 1 and I were intrigued, friend 2 most certainly was not. He was certain that this girl would want to go home with him, which obviously wouldn't work, because Aspergers was there, and would do God knows what, should he stumble home with another female. Probably something extra belligerent. And understandable.
  So they arrived, and the girl with a rather large chest, who also happened to be the one apparently jonesing for a make out, began shamelessly comparing her much larger tits to her friends much smaller ones. And not so casually inviting her friend to cuddle with her, apparently thinking that some girl-on-girl cuddling would cause our loins to burn with desire.
  Every girl I met tonight seemed f**king stupid. I texted friend 1, "These girls are f**king stupid." He didn't notice. He was too busy using our tiny Asian friend as a cockblock. I was tired/passing out. Friend 1 and tiny Asian were tired/passing out. Friend 2 was pretending to be tired, and pretending to pass out. These 2 dumbs**t girls were on a mission. So outside on the balcony they went to smoke, along with friend 2. To the couch I went, with a blanket.
  A short time later, Miss Desperation comes in. I'm half asleep, and not terribly coherent. She says, "Hey, can you come here and help me with something?"
  "Curious," I thought. "Very f**king curious."
  So I stumbled up, and followed her towards a bedroom, where I was then lead to a bed, and then promptly pounced upon by a girl who, it seemed, was intent upon chewing my face off. Or licking it off. Or stirring up some imagined concoction in my mouth with her tongue. I came to the conclusion in about 14 seconds that either: A) I was somewhere around the 3rd person she had ever kissed, or B) she had never kissed anyone more than once.
  I felt like I was being mauled and clawed by a feral dog. In addition to this, my face was forcibly shoved, at least, but not limited to, 4 times into her mountainous expanse of chest, to the point of near suffocation.
  I have no idea what her name was. At one point, after a few minutes, she said "Oh, I probably can only stay for like, 5 more minutes," to which I responded "Oh." Which was the first, and also second to last thing that I said during the entire ordeal. The last was, "Okay," after "I have to go now...goodnight."
  It's been at least 3 years since I kissed someone that made me contemplate never participating in that activity ever again. I vow, if ever I find myself in an "am I kissing a sloppy joe with teeth?" scenario, I-don't-know-her-name may be somewhat shocked when I stop the whole thing in mid-misery and say, "Enough. My penis has withered, and I don't even think someone spending life in prison could possibly enjoy this."
  And I guess it shouldn't be a big goddamned surprise when I get punched right in the withered penis.
  I guess my message is this: cup size is but a trifle when coupled with desperate snake tongue. Or something like that.
  
  - Jorge omgnoparentsnorules.blogspot.com

  
  

  
• August 06, 2011
• 6:00

  A Day in the Life of DIW

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  In case you were wondering, yes, we all have our Dear Serial days.
  
  frenchie: hi honeybun
  
  serial: whaddup dollface??
  frenchie: oh, nothingi was going to get some advice on how to not respond to the boy
  i just.... ugh. feel awful just flipping the ignore switch
  
  serial: You already dumped him.
  
  frenchie: i know!and i think he's trying to worm his way back in or something?i think he thinks it's working
  
  serial: Poor guy.
  
  frenchie: i know
  serial: The only way to take the plunge is to stop replying completelyI mean, I wouldn't suggest thatif it weren't clear he's delusionalI've had more than one guy I dated for awhilebroke it off withand then texted back and forth a little bitLike, he'd send a friendlything and i'd reply nicelymade it easier when I ran into him on the street
  
  frenchie: yeah...
  
  serial: but his courtesy has run its course.No mas.
  
  frenchie: maybe he's not delusional? i dunno.
  he just seems way too caringi don't like it
  serial: I feel like I'm missing somethingwhy wouldn't you ignore him?Because it'll hurt his feelings?
  frenchie: because he's nice and he means wellyeahit would be a weird blow to him for me just not to answer
  serial: Well then you could always lie to himIgnore him for a weekthen say"Sorry I haven't been replying, just really busy"then ignore him for two(or, you know, baby steps)
  
  frenchie: hmm. that could work
  serial: He'll know you're lyingbut that's OKIt eases the blow of being ignored a bitBut when you say"sorry I haven't been replying"and he replies to thatyou must NOT RESPOND
  frenchie: ahhhhtrue
  serial: even to direct questioning
  frenchie: i see
  serial: That's my advice
  frenchie: i kinda want to say "you give me both the heebies and the jeebies now. please go away"

  
  

  
• August 03, 2011
• 6:00

  GIVEAWAY!!

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  Dearest DIWers -
  We have the opportunity to do something that we've never done before, and it's pretty cool. Though your editors are hot and sexy, we're also pretty nerdy, and we have a thing for books, including audiobooks. That's why we're pumped to offer a very cool giveaway - an audiobook of 40 Love by Madeleine Wickham (who wrote the Shopaholic series under the name Sophie Kinsella). This book has been described as a hilarious and perceptive skewering of the shallow rich. We think it looks like great hot weather listening.
  
  To enter, just comment on this post by Wednesday, August 17, 2011 and include a way for us to get in touch with you if you win (even if it's just your email address in the posting information).
  Make sure you get in on this giveaway - such an easy way to get a great audiobook from one of the hottest authors out there.
  Thanks to Macmillan Audio for this opportunity!

  
  

  
• August 01, 2011
• 12:17

  Every Single One, Every Single Time

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  Dear Men,
  
  So... the moment was right and we're getting it on. Somewhere in between the thought and the completion of the act ALWAYS comes the mandatory male statement: "I AM GOING TO CUM" ...and I am confused every single time it is said. By every single guy that I have ever been with.
  
  Of course you are. This is obvious. It is, in fact, the reason that most of you get into this situation in the first place. Are we supposed to say something in return? It really interrupts the mood and totally turns me off, actually. Where on earth did this ritual begin and how did it spread to ALL of the men I've ever been with?
  
  Get this right: I am very supportive of you completing the act, and I highly recommend it. It's just a question of WHY every single one of you uses the exact same phrase.
  
  Please Explain,
  Slightly Disheveled

  
  

  
• July 25, 2011
• 18:59

  Spunky

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  When I started my job, I did so without promise of a real salary because I knew that I'd learn a lot. I'd learn about my field, business practices, learning to deal in the world of professionals, all the usual stuff - the stuff that they can't teach you in school.
  But here's what I've learned a lot about lately: show dogs.
  That's right. My boss shows dogs. They're the canine equivalent of beauty queens. She's at a show at least once a month. Most dogs you train to sit and lie down and behave, but not these monsters. You don't want them to sit down in the ring, so you basically just let them run rampant, apparently. And these are giant dogs, not little puff balls. Dogs that are as tall as me when they stand up. F**king monsters.
  So, here's my point and why I'm talking about dogs on DIW. My boss's main goal this week is getting her bitch knocked up. Therefore, tomorrow I have to cover an engagement for her because the frozen doggie jizz is stuck somewhere, on a truck, in the middle of the country. Apparently it's only viable for so long, and the bitch just went through heat, during which time every dog in the county tried to bone her.... Whatever.
  Moral of the story - the bitch gets more play than I do. Literally.

  
  

  
• July 23, 2011
• 19:51

  Dear Joe Rogan...

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  
  I have a confession to make. Okay, I guess it's two confessions.
  One - I follow Joe Rogan on Twitter (@joerogan). I don't think this is a bad thing at all, but some people may judge. I don't know. I'm proud.
  Two - I missed it when Joe Rogan linked to us here at DIW. This is a fact I am NOT proud of. We missed him linking to our Mormon Soaking article.
  
  I've learned many great things about Joe through his Twitter account.
  For example:1 - He is hilarious.2 - He likes to get high.3 - His UStreams are incredible.4 - His tattoos are gorgeous. I mean.... beautiful. Incredible.4 - He is passionate about UFC. This is perhaps the most important thing I've learned about Joe. Listening to him comment on fights is golden. He's made me enjoy cagefighting. I know, right?
  So, Joe - Here's to you. Our first - and for now only - celebrity appreciator. We hope you and your friends and followers keep coming to visit us as we try hard to keep the good stuff coming. We know you're married and a dad and stuff, but because it's our mantra...HAPPY DATING!
  

  
  

  
• July 19, 2011
• 8:57

  Ponzi Dating

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  ***GUEST POST***
  Please enjoy this oh so funny post from Gayle about one guy who couldn't take a hint to save his life!
  
  
  About 15 years ago I made my maiden voyage to Martha's Vineyard. There weren't many people on the ferry from Wood’s Hole, just a handful of us, so the handsome, pock-marked man with a calm look caught my attention. I don't remember how we ended up talking (my ex-husband would say that I probably pushed my breasts out and tossed my hair, something he always says I do when I flirt)but I found out that he was the roadie/manager for a band that was playing at a bar in Oak Bluffs very close to where the ferry docks. Somehow I wormed my way into his lunch with the band members at the bar who asked me to come see them play that night. I didn't think that there would be any way in hell that my two gay, West Coast friends who I was visiting would come with me to continue my flirtation with a roadie for some hippie-ish bar band. But, well, they did and it actually became their MISSION to get me laid.
  
  We had a great time at the bar and the band was surprisingly excellent. When they had played their last set and Clive started breaking down, my friends URGED me to suggest that he come back to my hotel room. The bar lights were flashing last call, and my friend was insisting that I slip him my room number. Somehow, it ended up on a napkin along with my lipsticked mouth imprint and my friend ran to the stage to give it to him. I was mortified. I was thrilled.
  
  Like a ship captain's wife holding vigil, but without the widow's walk and flowy white nightgown I stared out my window almost all night, waiting for Clive to walk up the path to the hotel and come rap at my door. The bed was right under the window and I remember just finally sinking, rather sadly, into sleep. When I left the next morning to go meet my friends, I noticed that they had left a little note taped to a post that said "Gayle's Room" with an arrow pointing in my direction.
  
  Back in Boston, with e-mail in its infancy, I found yet another way to contact Clive and I received an e-mail back, with some semi-apology about not coming back to the hotel, how he had taken a late-night walk and watched the sunrise. At the end of the e-mail, though, he said that there was something he really wanted to talk to me about in person and wondered if I would meet him in Providence when the band was playing, sometime during that next week. Something he needed to talk to me about in PERSON? Was he going to profess his love for me and needed me in front of him to kiss passionately and carry me away into the Providence sunset? In my mind, that was the only option and I told him that, yes of course, I'd be there.
  
  I drove the hour-plus thinking of nothing else but how exciting a first kiss would be.
  
  I walked into the rather large place and saw Clive, in shorts, Timberlands and a tee-shirt. We hugged each other and sat down at a high-top table, ordered drinks, some pub-ish food and made quick small talk. Within maybe 8 minutes, Clive pulled a napkin out of the dispenser and took out a pen.
  
  "This is what I wanted to talk to you about." He started drawing boxes and arrows and began to describe something that I couldn't even follow. Why was this man DRAWING DIAGRAMS ON A NAPKIN WHEN HE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE KISSING ME????? It didn't take long before the boxes became a pyramid and I realized what was happening. I became an arrow on the bottom of a pyramid. He thought that I would bring him money and a bump up to the next level. To this day, I'm still confused how "boxes" could make someone rich.
  
  I let him finish his spiel and he went back to setting-up for the band. I was stunned. I was temporarily immobilized. I had an hour and a half drive home and it was already way past my bedtime. All I could think about was how it wouldn't matter anymore if I smoked a million cigarettes because my breath wasn't an issue. I'm pretty certain that I had it in me to laugh, shake my head and not blame it on myself for being deficient in any way.
  
  There have been some other doozies of dates and situations since then, but, I'm sure that this will stand out as one for the "Dates From Hell" record books.
  
  
  If you liked this, do be a dear and visit her blog at [mylifeinthemiddleages.blogspot.com]
  
  HAPPY DATING!
  

  
  

  
• July 07, 2011
• 10:55

  An Open Letter to the Love/Hate Boyfriend

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  Dude -
  
  Though I'm not given to quoting our 43rd president, what was that quote that W mangled once? "Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me." Didn't he add an "aw, f**k it" on the end? That's the part I can't get right. "F**k it, and f**k you." I say it, and I think it, and I never believe it.
  
  You got me. Damn you, you got me. I haven't felt like this about someone in... 10 years? Since my first love. And what kills me is that I'm afraid I love you. It should turn my stomach to write that, but I kinda tear up instead. You, who I only spent one night with, though I remember every second of it. You, who's so charming and handsome. You, who can take my s**t and give it right back. You, who has run off how many times now?
  
  Some days I hate you. I'll scan across your number in my phone's contacts, and my blood boils. I raise my finger to delete your information... but I never do. An old conversation or picture will pop up and I want to write you letters about my hatred and loathing for you... but I don't. Because I don't hate you. And I want you around. But goddammit do I hate you and want you out of my life.
  
  You make me act irrationally. Do you know how much that sucks? Me, who chooses brains over guts 100% of the time, who maps out her life in Excel spreadsheets, who can't hold a grudge because they just don't make good sense, and who gets panicky if she thinks she screwed something up. Did I screw you up? Not you, really, but what we could have had? I know I didn't, but I still can't figure out what happened, and it makes me crazy.
  
  That leaves it up to you. For whatever reason, you can't handle this situation, or you can't handle me. I know I haven't screwed up because dammit, you keep coming back. You feel this, too - you've told me that much. But you just can't deal. Maybe you need to figure out how to be vulnerable enough to be a real man, or maybe you need to find spine enough to deal with your own s**t before you can be with someone. I certainly don't know what it is, and I can't pretend to.
  
  So, from now on, I will let my tiny little torch burn for you, and I will leave it at that. I won't try to stifle it, but I won't let you share it. I'll figure out how to embrace this twisted, sick, amazing feeling that I have for you, but I won't embrace you. I won't stroke your ego. I won't validate your feelings. I won't beg you to talk to me. I won't expect anything from you. But I know that you'll be back. I know that one day, you'll try again. You probably won't have gotten your act together, but if you fail that time, I'm willing to bet you'll try yet again. And one day, you'll have put yourself together and screwed your head on straight and learned how to be a man. Then, and only then, can we really do this.
  
  Until then, though, f**k you.
  
  -Me

  
  

  
• July 05, 2011
• 18:03

  The Ex Card

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  Here's another guest post from one of our beloved readers, Anne.
  
  
  I was going through a difficult time with an ex and was trying to move on. So, when this new boy came along and asked me if I wanted to hang out, I thought, "why not?" He was cute, seemed quite funny, and he knew some of the same people as me so I felt safe meeting him. After a couple of dates, I realized that this wasn't going to go anywhere. He talked a LOT, and most of what he said was nonsensical. Basically, we didn't connect. After a few dates, I wondered why I had let myself spend so much time with him....
  
  One given day, I was looking forward to seeing my ex, but he let me down, as usual. I ended up sad and in bed by 10:30. So, when the new boy sent a text asking if he could come round, I said why not. After all, I was shaved, moisturized within an inch of my life, and ready to go. Here's what happened next.
  
  He started talking. I shouldn't have been surprised, I suppose. But he soon went into a spiel about how he had been told that he he looked happy, and it was from hanging out with me. I didn't care, and I told him so. After all, I didn't like him. What's worse, is that he thought me telling him that I wasn't interested was me being shy or demure - that I didn't believe him and needed some reassurance. Ha. He should have shut his mouth and just gotten down to the reason for his visit.
  
  As if that weren't enough, he started talking about his mother and her three boyfriends. They were all the opposite of keepers, to put it simply. When I suggested that perhaps she was going through a breakdown, he SCREAMED at me, saying how she's been like this for 8 YEARS! And I still don't care. Neither did I care about his rough upbringing in Philly, or his several trips to prison, including a two week stint in maximum security. Excuse me?!!!
  
  At this point, I realize that it's definite, I never want to see him again. But it's obvious that this one needs to be handled with care. Though he sends me text after text - what am I up to, can we get brunch? - I play the "ex" card, say I still feel weird, and he understands. It wasn't a lie, but it did the trick, and I'll certainly be playing that card again.
  
  
  If you liked that little tale, check out Anne's blog at [annesaneries.wordpress.com] .

  
  

  
• June 26, 2011
• 7:30

  Little comforts

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  I’ve been thinking a lot about exes lately.
  
  And don’t tell me you haven’t. I’m not interested in that. Really, can’t we please, for just a moment, admit, all together, that it’s weird, so very weird, to have exes in the universe? I don’t want to pretend that I’ve moved on—which I have, in a sense. I’m not stopped, I’m not waiting, or weeping. I’m just thinking.
  
  Isn’t it strange that there are people in the world that you used to lay next to every night (if you’re a cohabitating type of serial monogamist, at least), who now have these lives that don’t involve you? They have wives and girlfriends and fiancés and children, and you have new loves, and you live somewhere else, and why does that have to mean you can’t still call his mother? Why does that have to mean that you’re a stalker if you want to see a photo of his new family?
  
  One reason I’ve been thinking is because I’ve been hearing a lot from an ex who was an item so long ago I hesitate to think of him as more than a very old friend. I was visiting home not long ago, and he randomly called. He didn’t even know I was in town, but he instantly started pushing to see me. I agreed to dinner at his intense insistence—he hinted at some sort of trauma. He promised he’d be pathetic, and offered to buy.
  
  We got in the car, and I said, “So. What was all that? What’s up with you?”
  
  “Right,” he said. “So, my wife left me.”
  
  Of course she did. Although there was one point in my life that I’d considered him my backup plan, my safety, in case my life didn’t go the way it expected, I gave up that plan about four years ago when he told me he was having a baby. Since then, I’d been firmly in the camp that supported his relationship, and I’d even been charmed by his wife – and while we’re being honest, I’ll just put it out there. I’m prettier than his wife.
  
  “Oh, buddy,” I said. “That sucks.”
  
  “For her teacher,” he said.
  
  “Yikes,” I said.
  
  “Who is a lady,” he said.
  
  “Oh, f**k.”
  
  At dinner, he told me the whole sordid story. It’s pretty f**king tragic.
  
  He knew our server, it was why he’d picked this particular restaurant. When the server walked away, my friend confessed, “he doesn’t know yet.”
  
  This break had been sudden, and the whole thing had only gone down about three weeks prior. My friend described to me how he understood depression for the first time in his life.
  
  “I wake up in the morning, and I can’t think of a reason to get out of bed. And even when I can, I just can’t think of how in the world I’m going to make myself do it.”
  
  I hugged him, and got a little drunk with him, and said what little, weak things you can say to comfort a friend whose family has just been torn apart. Mostly I listened to him. And when our server asked what the wife and kid were up to, he got the bad news. When our bill arrived, I think it was $5.
  
  “I’ve been getting a lot of free meals lately,” he confessed.
  
  What little things we can do to comfort a friend.
  
  Later, after I’d left town again, he texted me, saying he wished he’d been able to spend more time with me when I was in town.
  “I have a lot of friends here, but none like you,” he said.
  
  I’m not sure what he meant by that. In a literal sense, he doesn’t have any other friends who took his virginity. In another sense, he probably doesn’t have any other friends who have considered making a life with him. I’ve thought about what our kids would look like. I’ve considered whether I would take his last name.
  
  But he probably didn’t mean any of those things.

  
  

  
• June 05, 2011
• 16:21

  Leprechaun vs. Ginger

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  ***GUEST POST***Bringing you an important post by Lady Kay, which prompted this Dater to ponder 1) where the line between ginger and leprechaun lies, precisely, and 2) when does it become a good idea to forget all yer mama told ya and tell a guy to just get the eff out.
  
  This is about the time I f**ked a Leprechaun.
  
  I have to preface this story by saying that I missed being slutty when I was young. I was more of a prude. I had a longish-term relationship followed by marriage, followed by a very long-term relationship. So my number is still really low at my ripe old age of... oh, never mind.
  
  I met him online. We emailed a few times and then talked on the phone one night. It was late, I invited him over. In his profile picture he looked like a leprechaun, albeit a 6' leprechaun. I hoped he would look less leprechauny in person. He didn't. Damn.
  
  We talked for a while, I drank some. Drank some more. He was nice enough and I was drunk enough so I asked him to stay. Things started. He started moaning. Ew. He asked to turn the light on so he could see, not me, but his dick. Maybe leprechaun dicks disappear in the dark? I don't know. He moaned some more. Too much. I did not come. And I couldn't sleep.
  
  In the morning he asked if I was wet. Wtf? I just woke up!! He asked if I like "morning lovin' ". Um, not when you put it like that. And generally not with strangers. When he was done he asked if I came. No. No, I didn't. He muttered "sorry" and went to the bathroom. Wow. Thanks.
  
  He stayed too long. He's very much into astrology and talked about charts and suns and moons. I was hungover and just wanted to go back to sleep and recover and forget the whole experience. I needed to forget that I f**ked a leprechaun. A ginger. My mother would roll over in her grave, only she's not dead. So she'd puke if I ever told her. Which I never, ever would.
  
  I think being slutty is best left to the young. The young and stupid.
  It was a valiant effort, anyway.

  
  

  
• May 18, 2011
• 19:03

  Fit But You Know It

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  One of the drawbacks of online dating is that no one is 100% truthful in their profiles. That's a fact everyone can accept as part of the game. However, I'm wondering if there's a pattern to these little white lies.
  While it may be a topic deserving of a longer entry, here's my thought of the day: am I incredibly lazy in a fit society, or do most folks (particularly dudes) exaggerate the frequency of their workouts? It seems like a vast majority of the profiles I see are of "very active" men looking for "healthy and fit" ladies. These guys do crossfit, MMA, every ball sport known to man, kickboxing, weightlifting, surfing.... Tires me to think of it, especially when it's hard for me to muster the spirit to do some Zumba.
  Are there other trends I haven't noticed yet? Guys, what do girls lie about with the most regularity?

  
  

  
• May 08, 2011
• 15:46

  On or Off?

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  ***GUEST POST!!***Hope y'all enjoy this post from a guest I'm calling the Divine Miss M. Take care, and HAPPY DATING!
  So I signed up for an online dating site because it has been forever since I had a good date. I have a pretty hefty screening process and after almost two weeks of being on the site, met someone in person from the site for drinks. He was cute, took me to drinks and we talked for hours. I was unsure if he was just being nice but he ended up calling me the next day to ask me to dinner.. a place that we had mentioned at drinks and I said I had never been. How cute and thoughtful. We saw each other almost every other day, planned the next date before saying goodbye. We did nice dinners, drinks, movies, and he made me a fantastic dinner at his place. I felt like this guy could be the guy I bring to the two summer weddings I am going to... I felt comfortable enough to invite him over for Easter dinner, and he happily accepted.
  However, one night, while he was going downtown (and he had proven himself quite adept), I was a little uncomfortable and wanted him to take it easy. You would have thought I just told him he was the most foul man I ever met. He was so upset that he turned away from me and completely ignored me for a good ten minutes. I tried to comfort him, I tried to play it off. I had no idea what to do. He spent the entire night going back and forth about how he ruined everything and then convincing me that he was fine when I told him I was going to go home.
  We seemingly worked it out, but I noticed other things: how nervous he was that I would not like something he did or the food he made or the movie he picked. I felt slightly nervous myself because things were going well but I have a tendency to pick at little things so maybe I was making too big a deal out of his insecurity issues. I decided that we all have issues and we could work through it.
  He did not feel the same. We took a little road trip to a place we both wanted to go and on the hour and a half drive home, he told me two things: that he was falling for me and that he could not be my boyfriend because he was not stable enough.
  I felt completely heartbroken... and completely trapped in his car for a whole other hour! I cried and tried to tell him that we could work through issues and everyone had insecurities, etc. Apparently, I did not convince him because he dropped me off at my house and parked on the street so as not to disturb the people I live with. Then he told me "not to delete his number". What does that mean? I am not going to be waiting around for his phone call even though he's insisting that he is crazy about me and just has to work on himself. Though, it is impossible not to think I failed somewhere along the line here. How did we go from truly clicking in every sense of the word to a complete disaster where I walked down the street in the pouring rain to my house in a dress that was supposed to get me LUCKY, and not dumped!?
  Now, I will never experience fondue the same way again, and I cannot wear that dress again without thinking how sad that night was.
  So, now I just wonder how long does it take to "fix yourself"?

  
  

  
• April 28, 2011
• 13:55

  S**tting Where You Eat: A Guide To Dating Your Neighbor With Dignity And Grace

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  
  
  1. Meet neighbor.
  
  
  2. Run into neighbor again.
  
  
  3. Have a long conversation with neighbor.
  
  
  4. Go out to lunch.
  
  
  5. Run into neighbor again.
  
  
  6. Go out to bar.
  
  
  7. Make out on sidewalk.
  
  
  8. Date.
  
  
  9. Decide dating neighbor is bad idea.
  
  
  10. Become friends.
  
  
  11. Go out to lunch. As friends.
  
  
  12. Drink bottle of wine with neighbor.
  
  
  13. Have sex with neighbor.
  
  
  14. See neighbor escorting a girl out of his apartment at 9am on a Sunday.
  
  
  15. Cry on neighbor's couch for 3 hours.
  
  
  16. Ask him to cat-sit the following weekend.
  
  
  17. Avoid neighbor.
  
  
  18. Run into neighbor. Limit conversation to discussion of SSRIs and cats.
  
  
  19. Avoid neighbor.
  
  
  20. Give neighbor a basket full of whiskey and candy as a "thank you" for cat-sitting.
  
  
  21. Avoid neighbor.
  
  
  22. Move.

  

  
  

  
• April 27, 2011
• 14:00

  Callbacks

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  After the breakup of my last ill-fated relationship, I decided to hide out for a bit. This, dear reader, is why I was home on a Saturday night to receive his call. I HAVE to share, because of all of the "callbacks" I have EVER gotten, this one is the most interesting.
  
  He called because I "am the only sane person that he knows" and he had to talk to somebody. He just broke it off with the girl he started seeing right after I broke up with him. He had JUST left a bar where he had dumped her and during his walk home, he told me what a mess she was and all that sort of garbage. He got to his house and was smoking on his porch when he quickly told me that she was there at his house and he had to go, but that he would call me back in a few.
  
  I texted him "Do you need me to call the police?" jokingly after about a half hour. He said no, that the police were already there and that he was watching her get arrested.
  
  So, he calls me back and goes on and on about how she was crazy and had a drug problem and drank too much. I remained silent and smirking. I AM so much better than that and was SO GLAD that I was over him. He was slurping down scotch while he was talking. Then came the big pause: "I have something I have to tell you and you're not going to like it."
  
  Right after I broke up with him, he called an escort service. He was dating the girl from the escort service.
  
  That's right: not a stripper or a topless waitress, he went directly to dating a whore. A whore with two kids. He kept talking. She was addicted to crack. In the first month of dating, they had ALREADY had a pregnancy scare. She was arrested in front of his house for drunk driving... with her three-year-old daughter in the back car seat...driving the wrong way on a one-way street. She had a key to his house. She said that she loved him. That was why he babysat her kids while she went off on tricks. Oh... and she was "really, really hot".
  
  Did I have to explain that she was playing him for his money? Yes. Twice. "Trip" had never, apparently, actually met a whore before and must have missed all of the movies and books where the whore plays the rich guy for his money. He asked me what he should do. If he should break it off.
  
  "It depends on how much drama you want in your life. If you want a psychotic crack hoe having your baby and really want to pay her monthly for the next 18 years, I'd say no. You should stay with her for a while. It will be very exciting... like watching COPS. If you don't want a crack baby, I'd say that you should change your locks tomorrow morning and never talk to her again."
  
  He ask me if I'd go to drinks with him the next night. I politely declined. He changed his locks and is shopping for a psychiatrist.

  
  

  
• April 25, 2011
• 17:30

  Am I crazy or is he creepy?

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  I can't tell. I was just sitting there, minding my business late in the week, trying very hard not to beat my head against my keyboard, when an IM popped up on my screen.
  
  

  He says:
  Hey! Whatre you doing?
  
  She says:
  whipping some stuff out before I get out of here
  and then tomorrow's FRIDAY
  
  He says:
  Yes it is!!! WOO HOO!!!!
  big plans this holiday wekend?
  
  She says:
  Oh yeah
  gardening
  cleaning my floors
  big stuff
  Actually I might spend a night in a cabin on the Waccamaw
  and do some kayaking
  so that'll be good
  Oh, you know, and being pious, of course
  You?
  
  He says:
  LOL>...of course!!!
  well...I cleaned floors last weekend so thais done...YEAH!!!
  a little golf Frdiay and Saturday mongings...
  
  She says:
  Oh nice
  
  He says:
  and I do have to clean out the garage one day...BOOOOO
  
  She says:
  I hate chores
  
  He says:
  me too...
  
  She says:
  Why did I think they'd go away when I grew up?
  I think I need to have kids. Make them start doing some dishes.
  
  He says:
  they just get more and more and more
  
  She says:
  srrsly
  
  He says:
  we need FUN in our life...hhhmmmmm

  
  
  This is where I start to feel squeamish. I mean, OK. I like fun. But that long "hhhmmmmmm" felt like a hot breath across a phone line, right? That's not fun. It certainly ain't sexy. So I tried to keep it light and jokey. I figure, can't we all agree that work sucks, eh? Eh?
  
  

  She says:
  Oh, what, like work isn't FUN for you?
  It doesn't bring you enough JOYJOYJOY?
  
  He says:
  there you go again..scarcasim...I LOVE IT!
  
  She says:
  I just can't help it
  I'm glad someone around here appreciates it
  
  He says:
  I do...let it FLY!!!
  
  She says:
  ha
  I still have to figure out different types of humor.
  Not everyone thinks I'm hilarious, apparently.
  
  He says:
  i find you hilarous and interesting...

  
  
  I don't want bald, married guys my dad's age to find me interesting. Especially if they can't spell for s**t. Again, I retort with a joke.
  
  

  She says:
  Me, too!
  That's why we get along

  
  
  There's a pause, so I think it's over. Oh, no.
  
  

  He says:
  so.,...
  tell me something unique

  
  
  Um, what? Is this how old people flirt? Is he that bored? I hardly know this guy. He works in a different building. (I think his WIFE works in my building though.) Are we all of a sudden on Match.com? I play it safe by playing stupid.
  
  

  She says:
  ??

  
  
  

  He says:
  lol
  see...you haven't figured me out yet...I am haviong a tought ime with an outage over here and thoiught I would settle my stress by being silly wiht you
  sorry
  
  She says:
  ahhhhh
  I'm slow sometimes
  
  He says:
  not a problem...

  
  
  
  OK, DIW. What is this? Am I being paranoid? Is he just so well-meaning and innocent and I'm the one projecting? Should I avoid this guy?

  
  

  
• April 20, 2011
• 18:52

  When the Deal Breaks....

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  In every new relationship, there's hope for a happy future. There's the inkling of an idea that maybe this one is IT! We tap into the Disney-perfected romantic notion that there's one love for each of us and dammit, we're going to find that magic, fireworks-when-you-kiss, love-at-first-sight magic.
  
  At this point, you've probably pegged me as the jaded dumped one. Wrong, kids. In this case, I'm the dumper. I'm the one whose deal was broken by a totally clueless yet very well-intentioned young man. The clues started out small, with him forgetting things I'd told him while I painstakingly remembered his schedule. Then he started only getting in touch when he wanted a li'l sumpin, not just to get have a nice chat. THEN he forgot the species of my beloved pet whom I talk about all the time (that's right, I'm a crazy cat lady, not a dumb dog dresser-upper). Lastly, when a friend came back to the state from a war zone where he'd been for over a year, dealbreaker said "Oh, then I guess I'll just play things by ear." No, sir, you won't.
  
  It had gotten to the point where I was annoyed every time I spoke to him - wanted to reach through whatever device we were speaking through and slap some sense into him. He corrected me and always had to have the last word. While I know I'm full of corrections, I'd like to think that I can shut my damn mouth and detect irritation. Him, not so much.
  
  Tonight, we had a chat. I told him things hadn't felt right lately; we were just half-hearted chats in between booty calls. He said he had no idea. Completely blindsided. Thought I was happy with the whole situation. Guess that's what happens when you don't talk....
  
  Now, I could be wrong in all of this. I could be a heinous bitch who broke a booty call's li'l heart, and I do hope y'all tell me if that's so. On the other hand, I finally did something I've had problems doing - I had "the talk" when I didn't want to, and I didn't lead anyone on or drag anything out. My relationships usually end when I, in fullblown sobbing tears, say "DON'T YOU LOVE ME ANYMORE?!" Okay, that's not quite accurate, but it feels true.
  
  At this point, I'm beginning to feel that this dating s**t just isn't meant to make sense. Maybe I should read "Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus" like my mom suggested after all....

  
  

  
• April 12, 2011
• 19:24

  The mess in the living room

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  I recently realized something. A little blip of recognition.
  
  If you're a breeder: Between your parents' house, your dorm, your roommates, and then kids of your own, a retirement community, maybe a nursing home ... there are very few -- precious few -- years when you can wake up on a Sunday morning and stagger out to your living room to find you'd left a pile of underwear on the floor, empty bottles stacked up on bookshelves, and lube and toys on the coffee table. Enjoy them.
  
  I know I plan to.

  
  

  
• April 09, 2011
• 13:15

  The Text Message Diaries

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  A good looking friend of mine recently joined Match.com. We'll call him "Guy." Guy already has plenty of dates, and his online dating hasn't stopped him from asking out the chick at the bar, all of my friends, pretty much any cute girl.

  The other day we were chatting about Girl #735 and how it had ended poorly, yet again, over text. I asked to see the conversation and almost pissed my pants. Good stuff. The best part is he's too lazy to delete his texts. We're talking months of texts with dozens of women.
  
  So I asked, would you be willing to let us publish the conversations, au total, on DatingIsWeird?
  
  He's game. Sorta. I had to buy him beers and dinner so I could transcribe what follows is.
  
  Guy:I just felt Like we had a cheesy good bye and all. And now I'm second guessing my communication like u :)
  Girl #1: Well don't!
  
  Guy: Clicked "politely ignore" on ur wink. And your messages and profile disappeared.
  Girl #1: Really? I saw a message that said something along the lines of "thanks but no thanks", funny!
  
  I didn't feel like u invited yourself last night. I ended up just hanging out at my friends house. I closed my profile on match for a bit, probably why its gone.
  
  Guy: Jeeze... I hope its not b/c of me. Didn't mean to try & make it a date & I should have kept my developing crush to myself. Hope u stay in touch. I would like to hang out again but I won't pester u. I promise!
  Girl #1: Ha ha. Second guesser. The crush talk was sweet! I closed my profile for a bit because I just felt like taking a break, has nothing to do with you. I like you, stoke we are friends!
  
  Going through some bulls**t right now, stressful day. If I don't respond or pick up its not because of you.
  
  Guy: guilty as charged!
  (A few days later....)
  
  Girl #1: Thanks? Ok. Match is weird because it causes pressure when u go out. Like you have to decide right then if u like the person. Pressure!
  
  Guy: Thats all you. I mean we do get to choose from dozens of possible dates so I imagine lots of people end up liking something about one another, thats fun I don't feel it like pressure
  Girl #1: Yep, it is all me I guess. That's why I realized that I'm not ready for dating. I've never really done that before. Just met friends and it turned into something. Dating isn't fun for me, plus I have too much baggage. Well, good luck ;)
  
  Guy: Yea I know you were just looking for friends...Sorry I wasn't fun for you. I think u r hot and cool but I didn't mean to bring the pressure. Hope we can hang out again sometime, friends.
  Girl #1: Crap!!! No! You were fun, ugh, can I make this more of a mess? I'm such a social retard. I like u. YES friends and let's hang out again.
  
  (Again, a few days later...)
  
  Girl #1: We should go grab a beer??
  
  Guy: Dang..I think I may have plans as of 1/2 hour ago. Text u tomorrow and let's figure it out.
  Girl #1: Sounds good...I'm more fun :)
  
  Guy: I wouldnt know. Jus kidding.
  Girl #1: You son of a bitch!! J/k...
  
  I might go out tonight.
  
  Okay I'm not. Talk to u tomorrow :)
  
  (The next day)
  
  Guy: Okay what about planning on a beer later :) say 6 or 7. And just see what unfolds
  Girl #1: What about your other plans??
  
  Guy: Well im keeping it vague and since u r just a friend, I'm not going to feel bad if we cut it short because someone else wants to meet me afterward.
  Hah, like u did the other day. Fair enough?
  Girl #1: Ha ha! Ok. You would not have had fun if u came with me. It was lame. Me, my friend, and her Weirdo husband at their house...
  
  Guy: That's perfect, u wouldn't have fun w/ me later either b/c my other plan might actually like me. Hehe
  Girl #1: Oh please! Of course they will, but will they be as fun as me? NO
  
  Guy: We'll see, call me later?
  Girl #1: Stop being so mad at me. Yes, let's plan for around 7?
  
  (A few logistical texts later. I'm going to include times from here on out because they also say something...)
  
  Girl #1:
  5:28 You better not stand me upbecause you're so mad at me ;)It will hurt my heart. See u at 7
  
  6:05 Ok, you're going right?
  
  6:29Tonight seems weird and you have plans after, so let's plan for another time :) Have fun tonight on your date!
  
  Guy:7:02 Are you effing kidding me? I just got the message that you want to bail? I'm pissed I rushed home to take a shower so I could meet up with you after you practically begged me.
  I actually canceled my plans with a very sweet girl...And now I've got nothing to do....
  Damn it I'm so pissed. I was on a motorcycle ride with a friend so I didn't get the texts until I got home and got out of the shower. We rushed back from ___________ so I could meet you on time.
  (Guy calls Girl #1 twice)
  
  Girl #1:
  7:02I'm not answering cause I don't want to get yelled at. I'm sorry I came across as begging you. You made it sound like you had plans right after, u didn't tell me u canceled. If u could relax a little we could figure out what to do, Jesus!
  
  Guy:7:15Whatever! You're acting totally crazy.

  
  

  
• March 23, 2011
• 9:53

  What do I wear... to my breakup?

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  So the time has come to break it off. It's just not really going anywhere and the promises given in the first month have been falling off slowly. His drinking is getting worse (the "side effects" as well) and he's a chain smoker. His "mask" is slipping a little too much for my taste. I digress.
  
  So, it's time to break it off and all I am really wondering about is the actual break-up scene, and specifically: what I should be wearing. I'm trying my best to make this into something deeply psychological, but it isn't. I'm trying to make this as tasteful as possible because he's been drunk texting me some horrible things and I really don't want to bring them up at the break-up. I just want to meet with him in person (respectful) and tell him that it isn't working out (clear). Every time I play the scene out in my head though, my outfit changes. One part of me wants to dress like the total psycho that he wishes I would act more like (making it easier for him to psychologically dump ME) and one part of me REALLY wants to show up in business attire and slap a home run.
  
  This is pretty much the shallowest possible reaction to this scenario. I know. The thing of it is, I'm really kind of a clothes person and can't get away from the theater aspects of a possibly psychologically explosive scene. When I play it back in my head later, I don't want there to be any possible way that I could have diffused the situation any more. He and I are both kind of "dramatic" and I am swearing to you, gentle reader, that I will be on my very best behavior.
  
  So: I'm leaning towards the professional attire and the "I am a more mature person than you are and you're not going to drag me into your personal hell anymore." I can't believe that I'm actually considering dressing up all artsy and giving him extra credit for the cognitive dissonance caused by my words versus my outfit.
  
  Or should I just let him wonder and not even give him the satisfaction of a break up?

  
  

  
• March 18, 2011
• 18:47

  Dank-ass Doughnuts

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  ***Guest post!! Special thanks to a nameless contributor for this tale of youth and young manhood. And Phish (not Kings of Leon). The towns in question are located in that lovely little slice of strangeness known as South Carolina, if you were wondering.***

  
  

  When I was 17, I dated a girl from Mauldin named Jill. On a Saturday night in March 2001, we drove to Columbia to see Phish front man Trey Anastasio play at the Township Auditorium. Long story short, we all got f**ked up on weed and nitrous and hippie beer in the lot and she began to annoy the hell out of me.

  
  

  Once inside the venue, I left her and watched the show with my high school buddies Wilson and Daniel and some other girls. When it ended, I left with my friends instead of my girlfriend. Oops. :( On the drive back to Greenville, we stopped at the Hess on Piney Grove.

  
  

  As we “shopped,” the evening attendant was discarding that day’s stock of Krispy Kreme into a -- honest-to-God -- pristine and absolutely fresh trash bag. Being freshly stoned bros, we naturally carpe-ed the penis out of that diem and picked out the best pastries with our hands. Those doughnuts got dominated. No joke: We shoved them into our gaping maws with the collective adroit of a half-wit homunculus.

  
  

  While we were “eating”, Jill and her group walked in.

  
  

  Her: “Dude. What. Are … you doing?”

  
  

  Me: “Eating some dank-ass doughnuts. Um … See you at church tomorrow?”

  
  

  I didn’t go to church again until after college.

  
  

  That night in Columbia, Trey played a cover of Stevie Wonder’s “Signed, Sealed, Delivered”. Whenever I hear that tune, I can't help but think of that night and that poor girl. This one’s for you, Jill, darling. For the record, I am truly sorry. But that doesn’t mean I’m not still an asshole.

  

  
  

  
• March 03, 2011
• 18:08

  Stereotypes

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  So, I've been thinking a lot about stereotypes lately.
  
  Between my and my friends' dating experiences lately, stereotypes have come up a lot. For one pal, it was a guy "acting like a chick" when he spilled his guts about feeling nervous and hesitant in their young relationship. For another, it was having her little white girl mind blown when the black guy she started sleeping with turned out to be extremely well-endowed.
  
  Point is, these things stick around because they're true. But do they have to be? When it comes to biological features (so to speak), these things are inescapable. Do we have to say that a dude acts like a chick, though? Why can't he just be sensitive, or honest? The worst part is that so many of us feminist, intelligent, open-minded chicks are guilty of this. We want sensitive, honest, open men, but when they show their feelings, even WE say they're being too feminine.
  
  And how about stereotypes and double standards? Why must they frolic about datingland like two such best friends? In fact, I think I conflated them in that last paragraph. As a girl who's "one of the guys," "the funny fat girl," and "too smart for her own good," I've been placed into several of the categories that act as both stereotypes and double standards. When you break it down, these all presuppose that a certain quality in a person means that she (in these examples) will have certain behavior. (Ex., Smart girl = nothing but hassle. Smart guy, though...)
  
  Here's my upshot on all of this: Be your gotdamn self and let others do the same, especially your potential loves. Keep an open mind and just let things come.
  
  As a control freak, I find this crazy hard to accept, but I try. I really do. We'll never be rid of stereotypes or double standards, so I say accept them for what they are - half truth, half lunacy, and zero relevance to that attractive person across from you. Take it from the little white girl who got her mind blown.... ;)

  
  

  
• February 24, 2011
• 13:54

  Honey, let's agree to lie.

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  I was new in town so I joined an online dating site. I thought he was a cutie and "winked" at him because his profile said he was looking for someone like me. His reply: are you for real? Our third date was a weekend trip to New York City... complete with boho dinner party at the Hotel Chelsea for our friends. He opens doors ...and pulls out chairs ...perfect. "Trip" is my favorite man. Ever. He's so perfect (in such eccentric ways) for me that when I describe him to my friends, they ask when the wedding will be. We have not gotten that far yet. Baby steps. One of the steps: meet the parents.
  
  We were invited to dinner. Wednesday night. No big thing, right? WRONG. His dad's house is out on an island. You can only get out to the island (by car) if you have business on the island and there's a gate house on the bridge. It's VERY exclusive. His dad lives in an Italianate palazzo on "East Egg" Island and I grew up in a crappy condo in "The Valley of Ashes". The initial panic passed. I should have known that "Trip" came from money like that because his name is a Firstname Middlename Lastname III but it never occurred to me that it might be Like This. After dinner we're sitting by a roaring fire (the fire place large enough to roast a pig) sipping lovely red wine discussing stuff. Dim light glints gold off of the Directoire and Empire furniture's overstuffed silks. Yeah, it was like that... I felt like I had invaded Masterpiece Theatre. It was lovely. Absolutely lovely.
  
  "So, how did you meet?"
  
  Oh, crap. The evening started to crash. I looked at "Trip". He looked at me. Deer-in-headlights-style. Do we tell the truth? We have not discussed this yet.
  
  "You just met a few times around at bars or something?" Dad's a psychiatrist, good luck lying to him. He sensed something.
  
  "We met through new social networking tools. Computer stuff, dad."
  
  GOOD SAVE. Dad does not check his e-mail often. Knows nothing of Facebook or internet dating sites. Leave it to a son to know how to lie to his dad.
  
  I just wish that we would have discussed what we're going to say when people ask how we met. It's horrible to have to say that you met on an internet dating site. Or at least I think it is. I'm meeting all of his friends this weekend. Vague answers about the intertubes won't fly with them. I think we're about to overplay the importance of our one common Facebook friend (he went to art school with someone I used to work with). We need to agree on a lie and then stick to it. Otherwise, there's going to be a few awkward silences this weekend.

  
  

  
• 13:51

  Honey, let's agree to lie.

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  I was new in town so I joined an online dating site. I thought he was a cutie and "winked" at him because his profile said he was looking for someone like me. His reply: are you for real? Our third date was a weekend trip to New York City... complete with boho dinner party at the Hotel Chelsea for our friends. He opens doors ...and pulls out chairs ...perfect. "Trip" is my favorite man. Ever. He's so perfect (in such eccentric ways) for me that when I describe him to my friends, they ask when the wedding will be. We have not gotten that far yet. Baby steps. One of the steps: meet the parents.
  
  We were invited to dinner. Wednesday night. No big thing, right? WRONG. His dad's house is out on an island. You can only get out to the island (by car) if you have business on the island and there's a gate house on the bridge. It's VERY exclusive. His dad lives in an Italianate palazzo on "East Egg" Island and I grew up in a crappy condo in Michigan... but the initial panic passed. I should have known that "Trip" came from money like that because his name is a Firstname Middlename Lastname III but it never occurred to me that it might be Like This. After dinner we're sitting by a roaring fire (the fire place large enough to roast a pig) sipping lovely red wine discussing stuff. Dim light glints gold off of the Directoire and Empire furniture's overstuffed silks. Yeah, it was like that... I felt like I had invaded Masterpiece Theatre. It was lovely. Absolutely lovely.
  
  "So, how did you meet?"
  
  Oh, crap. The evening started to crash. I looked at "Trip". He looked at me. Deer-in-headlights-style. Do we tell the truth? We have not discussed this yet.
  
  "You just met a few times around at bars or something?" Dad's a psychiatrist, good luck lying to him. He sensed something.
  
  "We met through new social networking tools. Computer stuff, dad."
  
  GOOD SAVE. Dad does not check his e-mail often. Knows nothing of Facebook or internet dating sites. Leave it to a son to know how to lie to his dad.
  
  I just wish that we would have discussed what we're going to say when people ask how we met. It's horrible to have to say that you met on an internet dating site. Or at least I think it is. I'm meeting all of his friends this weekend. Vague answers about the intertubes won't fly with them. I think we're about to overplay the importance of our one common Facebook friend (he went to art school with someone I used to work with). We need to agree on a lie and then stick to it. Otherwise, there's going to be a few awkward silences this weekend.

  
  

  
• February 21, 2011
• 19:00

  There is only one right way to hang toilet paper

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  Almost two years ago, there was a change between me and my roommate.
  
  He found himself looking forward to coming home. Not because he wasn't at work anymore, but because he was looking forward to spending time with me. Cooking dinner together and watching TV. Silly boring things.
  
  I found myself eagerly anticipating him getting home after work. Looking at the clock. And if he didn't come home, or came home late, I was way more disappointed than I should have been. I mean, he was just my roommate.
  
  And after my last roommate (hell satanspawn bitchface hoooker hell hell), it seemed to me a good idea to keep my distance.
  
  But, he had these big blue eyes, see? And I told my friends about it, that I had a crush on my roommate, and they were like, "that is a terrible idea. Remember what happened with your last roommate? Crazyface bitchass. And you weren't even sleeping with her. Don't do it. It'll end poorly, then you'll be out one awesome roommate. He picks up dog poop AND mows the lawn. Also he's super nice. And, you know. I mean, he's single, right? Can I maybe come over for dinner sometime?"
  
  One friend was at least a little more honest.
  
  "If you hit that, let me know how it goes. He's pretty cute. Maybe you could warm him up for me."
  
  And I was like, "Oh, pishposh. Nothing will happen. I'm sure he's not interested in me. Plus, he's such a responsible person, he wouldn't do something like that."
  
  Well. I was wrong. I'm way glad I was wrong.
  
  One really good thing about getting together with your roommate is that you already know you can live together and you're comfortable together. Because moving in with a boyfriend can be really hard -- I know from experience. The guy I was with in college? Even when he was out of work and I was going to school and working full time, he couldn't be bothered to wash a dish. Or scrub a toilet. Ever. I think, in three years, he may have .... no. Actually, I don't think he ever cleaned the toilet.
  
  But Roomie and I were OK with each other's habits. There were no arguments or bad blood about how clean the bathtub was, or who left dishes laying around. All was copacetic as far as home was concerned.
  
  So a few weeks ago, I was going to the bathroom, and I noticed, to my great irritation, that the toilet paper was hung the wrong way. Underhand.
  
  I realized that Roomie and I had never talked about how toilet paper is hung. And I didn't think that I'd ever noticed it being wrong before. I shuddered. Had I just been lucky? Did he have a willy-nilly approach to TP, and somehow, either I hadn't noticed, or it always happened to get thrown on the right way? Had I been the one who'd replaced the roll most of the time? It didn't seem like it ... I've lived with guys who left me empty rolls, and Roomie's just not that kind of a guy.
  
  "Um, so have we ever talked about how we like toilet paper hung? I mean, are you the kind of person who thinks that there is a right way to hang TP?"
  
  He looked at me, and quickly answered.
  
  "F**k yeah. Overhand."
  
  "Oh, thank god. It must have been your mom."
  
  (Originally posted on Run Bitches Run)

  
  

  
• February 11, 2011
• 13:12

  Something to think about on your Friday night….

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  “I’m not saying we all ought to misbehave, but we all ought to look as if we could.”

  —

  Orson Welles

  
  

  (In other news, new girl lost your comments on her first two posts. I suck, because they were great, but everything's all straight now otherwise. Sorry, awesome commenters!)

  

  
  

  
• February 09, 2011
• 18:02

  Broken

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  Date number 2 with my latest consisted of watching the Super Bowl together. Why, you may ask? Because that's when he had time off and I freaking love football. (Longtime listeners out West may not understand how a real lady can be such a fan of such a sport, but trust this one when she tells you that all the real Southern girls are. And thankfully, the more you know, the more men down here love it.)
  Anyway, as Fergie and Will.I.Am. came on stage, my boy muted the TV and came up with a plan to make better use of the upcoming twenty minutes, wink wink. As most of the country wondered if Fergie would pee her pants, things got warmer between us. He took off his glasses, and I shed a sweater. Hands wandered, moans escaped, and we spent the intermission making very good use of our time.
  Since I'm all romantic and s**t, I pulled the dude move and started watching the game over his shoulder as we kept making out. Classy, right? When I squealed during a good play that didn't coincide with any sweet move of his, my boy realized what was going on. Busted. He understood, though, and we straightened ourselves up and returned to the game, a little closer together on the sofa this time. As he went to put his glasses back on, they were nowhere to be found. Where were they eventually located, you may ask? Under my big ass, that's where. They were retrieved, arms akimbo, MUCH worse for their lack of wear.
  This leads me to my point. Y'all, please tell me that I'm not the only one who's done this? What have you broken in the name of passion? Leave me a comment about knocked over lamps, chipped teeth, shattered windows, and broken headboards. We're all in this together, after all.

  
  

  
• 13:16

  Broken

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  Date number 2 with my latest consisted of watching the Super Bowl together. Why, you may ask? Because that's when he had time off and I freaking love football. (Longtime listeners out West may not understand how a real lady can be such a fan of such a sport, but trust this one when she tells you that all the real Southern girls are. And thankfully, the more you know, the more men down here love it.)
  Anyway, as Fergie and Will.I.Am. came on stage, my boy muted the TV and came up with a plan to make better use of the upcoming twenty minutes, wink wink. As most of the country wondered if Fergie would pee her pants, things got warmer between us. He took off his glasses, and I shed a sweater. Hands wandered, moans escaped, and we spent the intermission making very good use of our time.
  Since I'm all romantic and s**t, I pulled the dude move and started watching the game over his shoulder as we kept making out. Classy, right? When I squealed during a good play that didn't coincide with any sweet move of his, my boy realized what was going on. Busted. He understood, though, and we straightened ourselves up and returned to the game, a little closer together on the sofa this time. As he went to put his glasses back on, they were nowhere to be found. Where were they eventually located, you may ask? Under my big ass, that's where. They were retrieved, arms akimbo, MUCH worse for their lack of wear.
  This leads me to my point. Y'all, please tell me that I'm not the only one who's done this? What have you broken in the name of passion? Leave me a comment about knocked over lamps, chipped teeth, shattered windows, and broken headboards. We're all in this together, after all.

  
  

  
• February 07, 2011
• 17:45

  We're back, bitches!

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  Ladies and gentlemen, cats and kittens, dawgs and aforementioned bitches:
  Rumors of our demise have been greatly exaggerated. We're back with a vengeance, coming at you with the same great advice, tales of woe, and kiss-and-tell adventures. Don't worry, the old editors are still here, plus some new voices to keep things interesting.
  As always, feel free to send in your submissions and help us get things back up to speed. Check us out on Facebook and Twitter as we try to resuscitate all of our friendly feeds.
  Love always, Your newest Pink Lady.
  HAPPY DATING!

  
  

  
• 13:19

  We're Back, Bitches!

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  Ladies and gentlemen, cats and kittens, dawgs and aforementioned bitches:
  Rumors of our demise have been greatly exaggerated. We're back with a vengeance, coming at you with the same great advice, tales of woe, and kiss-and-tell adventures. Don't worry, the old editors are still here, plus some new voices to keep things interesting.
  As always, feel free to send in your submissions and help us get things back up to speed. Check us out on Facebook and Twitter as we try to resuscitate all of our friendly feeds.
  Love always, Your newest Pink Lady.
  HAPPY DATING!

  
  

  
• January 31, 2011
• 13:25

  Miss Manners Neglected to Talk About...

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  You have a Good One: nice, considerate, sweet. Only thing is, you have the sex drive of a blue-assed baboon and they have the sex drive of... well, do they even have a sex drive? A few of my friends are having this problem, and it's not limited to guys or limited to girls. So I'm asking you: is there a loving way to tell someone that you care about that they need to put out or ship out? I mean, I'm a woman in her 30's... and it's true what they say about women in their 30's. I think sex is healthy and demand a healthy amount of it right now. Maybe we can get some guy advice: has ANYONE ever come up with a tactful way of having this conversation with someone?

  
  

  
• January 10, 2011
• 9:38

  Kosher to wear lingerie from an ex?

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  A friend recently asked my opinion on wearing lingerie given by an ex with a new lover. I was totally at a loss for the etiquette on that one, so I put it to you, DIW readers.
  
  Is it ok to wear lingerie given by an ex with a new lover? On a more general level, what do you do with old gifts from previous loves when in a new relationship?

  
  

  
• October 22, 2010
• 19:48

  The score is love-love...

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  We have a guest post from "Strobino" today. HAPPY DATING!
  
  A woman had expressed interest in me on a popular dating site by "winking" at me. I looked at her profile, and saw her pictures and life stories. She seemed cool enough. I didn't see too much in common with her except that she liked playing tennis, but wasn't that great at it, and wanted to play more. That was the same as me.
  
  A few emails later we had set up a tennis date. When we first met we made some small talk before taking the court, and everything seemed to be going well. However, about 15 minutes into the game she hit a shot that was clearly out, but she claimed was in. The dispute was minor at first, but I didn't want to just let it go, and it escalated. Realizing that I was being a little too stubborn for a first date I tried to play it off and give her the benefit of the doubt and said something playfully like "Ok, McEnroe it was in." All hell broke loose.
  
  She ran around the net screaming "You f**king asshole! What the f**k is that supposed to mean!!?." She began hitting me with her racket as hard as she could clearly aiming for my face every time. For about a minute I made every effort to run away and block her blows, but she was a little quicker than me and kept cutting off my escape route. After she cut my hand with one of the swings with her racket (intended for my face) I cocked back and bashed her head with mine with a fair amount of force. She then cried and ran away. Later that night, I sent her an email saying "Just for the record it was out." I still haven't heard about a second date.

  
  

  
• September 24, 2010
• 14:16

  The Manwich

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  The night began with a "really very large" case of beer and a bottle of "really very cheap" gin.
  
  My new Boyfriend had his Best Friend over and we set right into the task at hand: drinking everything in the house. After the usual pleasantries, we talked the usual BS, then turned on the music. What music? Whatever. Drunk people are very bad at making decisions. How much did I have to drink? I have no idea. I didn't care at the time. The beer was gone and the gin was hiding from us and there was MUSIC!
  
  We were all three dancing in the living room and both the Boyfriend and his Best Friend had their shirts off and we were all three doing some lovely grindy-type thing. God Bless... um... whatever saint is in charge of the intoxicated. My Boyfriend was hot, his Best Friend was hotter: I could think that because I was really really drunk!!!! Yippee!! I decided to step out of the Manwich and maybe kinda...watch for a little bit. Yes, Boyfriend kept sexydancing with his Best Friend. Really hot, gay 100% Y Tu Mama Tambien moment right there in the living room. I finally understood WHY guys would want to watch two hot chicks making out at a bar. Young, shirtless... Amen!!! I slipped back into the lovely sweaty shirtless two man grindy thing because they were really taking this a little too far. I was making out with my Boyfriend... wait. Um. My Boyfriend was like a 29 waistband and... hugging this didn't feel like... HOLY CRAP NICE ABS!!!! Oh, sweet baby jeebus I was faced the wrong way. Yeah. But the Boyfriend noticed it too. Exit: Now Ex-Boyfriend. Me: Damn, what just happened? Best Friend: wanted to keep making out.
  
  I'm not going to say that it was BECAUSE I'd been upstairs watching his porn while he was at work... but I had been. That was actually WAY more porn than I've ever seen. The one porno I had seen at the age of 20 made up the whole of my experience with the genre. I thought of it as field research, actually. The vast majority of it involved women with more than one man, so I guess a man's porn really doesn't have anything to do with his reality. Guys have always said that to me...

  
  

  
• September 11, 2010
• 12:45

  Dear Serial: Is this legal?

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  
  Dear Serial,
  
  I attended my cousin's wedding. Yes, the reception was open bar. There was a guy there and... truth be told, I knew he was on the Bride's side too because he managed to sit next to me at the wedding proper. We exchanged pleasantries and photos of the wedding.
  
  Later, we ended up running away from the celebration and mindlessly making out on streetcorners throughout downtown Major Midwestern City. We have since done the other rather more naked things that people tend to do.
  
  He is my father's brother's widow's great-nephew. There is no real blood connection so we think we might be okay (despite the fact that we are both the black sheep of our families). Oh, yeah, and I don't really look my age and he's 12 years younger than me. Still, is this illegal? He's 23... so it's probably legal in most states.
  
  Help me,
  "Sophia"

  
  
  
  
  Dear Sophia,
  
  I had to draw a picture to get this one straight in my head.
  
  
  
  OK, so I'm not really great at drawing family trees (And I totally gave him Justin Beiber hair). Basically, it looks like while you guys are of the same generation. I'd go so far as to say you're family, but I'm not pulling the incest card. I googled family relationships and looked at some charts written by people who understand this s**t, and I don't think you're actually any kind of cousin, not even a cousin 14 times removed.
  
  As for the age, yes. You're cool.
  
  So, legally, we're all good.
  
  The real question is whether it's OK, morally. And I say, yes. Not only is it OK, morally speaking, but it's pretty hot. Forbidden fruit, but without the yucky concerns of arrest or babies with arms growing out of their foreheads.
  
  Fact is, people are supposed to hook up at weddings. That's what weddings are for. It's not about the couple. Weddings exist for the purpose of making old ladies cry, giving people the opportunity to dress up, and giving all of us an excuse to get wasted and get laid. Even if you're humping a way younger, almost-relative. Or, maybe especially if you're humping a way younger, almost-relative.
  
  Rowr.
  
  Love,
  
  Serial
  
  
  
  Got a question for Serial Monogamist? Oh, sure you do. Send them to seriallymonogamous[at]gmail[dot]com

  
  

  
• September 08, 2010
• 11:38

  I wish dating was as easy as this bear

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  
  
  **Thanks to Regretsy for this photo**

  
  

  
• August 02, 2010
• 11:53

  Ooooh Girl, an honest R&B song

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  
  
  Thanks Dave for the video heads up!

  
  

  
• July 17, 2010
• 12:49

  Dear Serial: I'm all out of love

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  Dear Serial,

  My girlfriend is a smart, pretty, kind, funny, loving and rad woman. She's my best friend and I love her deeply. Only problem (there's always one, right?) is that I'm not attracted to her anymore. I'm also not sure if I'm still in love with her, but I care about her so much and love our friendship that I don't want to break up.

  Any advice?

  Anonymous

  Dear Anonymous,

  I have so many questions. When you say your girlfriend is smart, pretty, kind and funny, are you, you know, saying “she has a good personality”? Like, does she have a very pretty face? Is she really beautiful on the inside?

  You know what I’m getting at. Are we looking at a few too many relationship pounds?

  If so, I sympathize. Not so much with you, but with her. Goddamnitall if it isn’t hard not to plump up when you’re in a relationship. All that love and acceptance. The joy of cooking for and sharing meals with your honey. But if those pounds have gone from pleasantly plump to too much cushion for the pushin,’ it’s time for a chat. A loving, kind chat. Though there’s really no easy way to go about it. You’ll likely hurt her feelings. Try telling her you want to get healthier together. You can use a line like, “And just imagine how well our clothes will fit!” Naturally, you’ll mean, “You can finally pull those skinny jeans out of the back of your closet!” But I wouldn’t suggest actually saying that line.

  She might be pissed, but unless she has a really good reason for getting fat, like having a kid, or an injury, it’s reasonable to expect she keep in shape for you, just as it’s reasonable for her to expect you to take care of yourself. Now, you can’t expect her to stay the same size forever, we all get a little bit fatter as we age (and if that rule doesn’t apply to you, well you can just go ahead and eat s**t), but within reason, it’s OK to say, “Let’s get to the gym, sweetheart.”

  Now, if it’s not that something she can control has changed, but it’s just that you don’t love her anymore, why are you still with her? For friendship’s sake? She probably has enough friends. You’re her boyfriend (or girlfriend, I can’t tell). If it’s just that the spark’s not there anymore, have you tried to get it back? Do you care to? There are things that can be done. You know them. Try something new. Go on a trip. Talk about whatever your problems are.

  But if it’s really not happening, why not just dump her? If you’re not attracted to her, you’re not doing her any favors by sticking with her. She didn’t sign up for a friend, did she? She signed up for a more-than-friends situation.

  Love, Serial

  
  

  Got a question for Serial Monogamist? Want to tell her how full of s**t she is? Do it. We dare ya. Send a note to seriallymonogamous[at]gmail[dot]com

  

  
  

  
• June 11, 2010
• 14:51

  Mormon Soaking

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  I really really wish what I was about to say was made up. Really, I do because I like Mormons. I was unsure what it would be like to live in the Mormon mecca, aka Salt Lake City, but since moving here I'm very pleasantly surprised and happy to report that it's not as weird as you may think.
  
  Mind you, not as is not to say not at all. There's these funny little things like having to buy real beer (more than 3.2% alcohol) at a state liquor store, everyone is married with children even if they're significantly younger than me, and there's a rather schizophrenic personality to the citizens: you're either Mo-Mo and happy-go-lucky or you ain't and you're damn f**king proud of it.
  
  I digress. Mormon soaking.
  
  So here it is: because Mormons are against pre-marital sex, many of the "good" Mormons make it to their twenties as virgins. Heaven help them, they're hell bent on staying a virigin. But...we all know sex feels really really good. Add to it that it's forbidden and now you have a group of hormonally-saturated, unfulfilled virginal, twenty-something-year-olds going off to college, namely Brigham Young University.
  
  See where this is going? How do you have sex without having sex?
  
  You have "soaking," that is, you put your dick in her vagina but you don't move. Not even a single pump, rub, wiggle or jiggle. Nothing. You just lay there, soaking.
  
  Like I said, I wish I was making this up.
  
  I can't in good faith say I've ever experienced this phenomenon first hand because I'm A) not a BYU graduate and B) not f**king retarded. But, I have it from good sources (a few "Jack Mormons," also known as Mormons who were born and raised but no longer practicing, as well as an ex-communicated one).
  
  There you have it folks. The solution to every religious believer's ultimate dilemna: how do you have sex without having sex. Mormon soaking.

  
  

  
• June 03, 2010
• 10:04

  My very own pet stalker

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  Today's offering is a guest post from "hackneygirl". Happy Dating!
  
  My first ever internet date. Yay! But me being me I should have known it couldn’t go well. And in fact I think I have managed to bag myself my very own personal stalker. WAY TO GO!
  
  I ought to have clocked it earlier but I’m new to this game and his profile was very funny – dry and sarcastic – and his pics were pretty cute. His emails were short and to the point and he seemed keen to meet up rather than spending lots of time exchanging inane emails. My impression: alpha male, possibly quite arrogant but could be a lot of fun. So, to a backing track of alarm bells faintly tinkling, I agreed to meet him for a drink the following evening. And that’s when the trouble started.
  
  8am. My phone buzzes. It’s a text seemingly checking I gave him a real number. Concerning. I reply with a one word affirmative.
  8.10am. Another text. This time re-confirming the details of our date later on. I do not reply.
  
  The uneasy feeling persists throughout the day but I am repeatedly reassured that everyone feels like this before their first internet date. Just go along! What’s the worst that can happen? Ok Dr. Pepper, fine, I’ll go!
  
  6pm. Another text. ‘See you soon. x’ SERIOUSLY! I am going to bail if he sends me one more word. I send a matter of fact response. Definitely no kisses.
  7pm. (we’re meeting at 8 and I am at this point waiting at a bus stop). Another text! This time saying he’s been delayed at work. So I ring him to find out if he’s a total loony or what. It rings out. I leave a message then head home. This guy has clearly never been out with a girl in his life.
  8pm. Buzz, buzz. ‘Just leaving. Can be there in 5 mins.x’ Dude, did you not listen to my message – I’ve gone home for pete’s sake!
  8.05pm. He rings me. It takes me FIFTEEN whole minutes to get him off the phone in which time he has repeatedly tried to find out where I live, offered to come and meet me near my house, asked me out for dinner on every single night of the next two weeks (it’s amazing how busy I am all of a sudden) and extracted a promise that I’ll check my diary and get back to him.
  10.30pm. Unbelievably, he texts again. Not being insane myself I do not reply.
  2am. Yes, you read that right, 2 o clock in the am, he messages me online to explain, yet again, what held him up. I will have to block his profile. He’s not going to like that.
  
  So, I remain an internet virgin and very likely the object of some disturbed fantasy. I am also probably going to have to change my phone number. Do I feel just a little bit grubby and freaked out? Yes I do. Am I going to quit internet dating? Of course not! Or not yet anyway… *
  
  *Since writing this post he has settled into a routine of texting me every morning at 9am with a new angle on why he didn’t make it to our date and the myriad ways he would like to make it up to me. It’s kind of comforting. I might even miss him when he stops.

  
  

  
• May 29, 2010
• 18:52

  Cops

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  Why did I think it would be a good idea to date a cop?
  
  Sure, he was kind of cute. Sort of funny. A stitch mouthy. But honestly, at that point, I'd go out on a date or two with just about anyone who asked. I felt like I had to give everyone a chance. I felt like at that point in my life, I'd made such bad decisions in relationships, it was time to challenge all of my assumptions. And who knows? People can be surprising. Right?
  
  On my second date with Abe the cop, we were driving downtown, and I was in the front seat of his car, which, coincidentally, is the same year, make and model as my car. (Was that part of the attraction? That he had good taste in cars?) He wanted to stop by his house before he took me home, so I could meet his dog (He owned a house. I think that was a big part of it. I was curious about dating a responsible guy, I guess. Slightly older. Maybe looking for something long-term?), but as we drove down the left lane of one-way street, we passed by a cop car driving slowly in the right lane. My date slowed down his car and rolled down my window using his driver-side controls.
  
  “What the hell are you doing, harassing some punks?” he shouted across me as I tried to impress the back of my head into the headrest.
  
  “Abe! You son of a bitch!” the on-duty cop shouted from behind his mirrored sunglasses and moustache. “Are you drunk driving?”
  
  “Hell yeah!” Abe laughed.
  
  Then they proceeded to chat for another minute. Across my face. While I stared dead ahead, mortified. I live in a small town. Someone I know could've walked by at any moment, and I knew I'd be horrified if someone saw me in that position. I think that’s exactly when I decided I’m not the kind of girl who dates cops.
  
  The problem is, you can't live it down. Months later, I was out on the town with a new one I was just getting to know. It was a sweet summer night, and we'd ridden our bikes, loving the gorgeous weather and anticipating a few too many beers. As we strolled and chatted, we walked by a couple of cops on the corner. I realized too late one was Abe.
  
  We exchanged a friendly hello (I almost always let fellas down easy) and I continued walking with my new beau.
  "Um, how do you know that cop?" Beau asked.
  I had to 'fess up. Fortunately, Beau was understanding. Everyone has a few skeletons in the closet. Some of them just happen to be cops.

  
  

  
• May 21, 2010
• 18:43

  Chexy

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  We have a guest post from "Fillmore" today. Happy Dating!
  
  She came into my place of employment wearing one of those Victorian corsets with leather and purple, frilly bulls**t and stainless steel buckles; you know, for people to wear to the premiere of the next Twilight movie. Three quarters of her extremely ample, milky sweet breasts came bursting out the top of her outfit like steam escaping from a cartoon wolf's ears. Also, I think she was wearing a torn ballerina's tutu, which was sexy and cheesy at the exact same time. I call it Chexy. After having just had my heart used as an ashtrayenema bag I became Emotionally Unavailable Guy, which is exactly who sidled up to little miss clit piercing. I used the single greatest pickup line possible when working in retail:
  
  “Can I…show you something?”
  
  She said something stupider than me by saying, “I don’t know, can you?”
  
  She was eye touching me in my bathing suit area so I went for it.
  
  4 hours later I was off of work and she was knocking on my front door wearing a super tight t-shirt with a picture of John Stamos on it. Every time I stared at those amazing boobies there was Uncle Jesse, judging me. She was at my house for sex. 4 seconds after closing the door she grabbed me by my left nipple (my favorite one. The other one just…pisses me off) and led me to my bedroom. 10 seconds after that she was naked and I was giggling under my breath, for fear that my desperation would show through my mask of casual indifference. That’s when she slapped me in the throat.
  
  “Did that hurt, little girl?” She growled.
  “A little…”
  Thwack. Again. Right in the Adams apple.
  “Okay, that really…”
  Thwack.
  “Shut your face-hole, faggot and tie me to the chair.”
  
  Simply to spare my poor vocal cords further torment, I obliged. I grabbed my desk chair and a couple of ties from my closet and trussed her up like she was in the bed of a pickup and I was going on a road trip. A road trip to Creepytown.
  
  Once I tightened the straps she looked me in the face with big, wide, innocent eyes.
  
  “Now I need you to hit me as hard as you can.”
  I laughed. She stared.
  “Seriously?” I asked.
  “Please master? I’ll be good to you if you do.” She purred, all sex kitteny.
  “Now, by ‘good to me’ you mean…” I asked, fishing.
  “Anything you want, master. Just make me hurt and I’ll wrap my body over every square inch of you.”
  
  After a solid 3 or 4 seconds of thinking I said “Okay, I’ll do it, but does it have to be in the face? Can’t I punch you in the tit or something? Oooh, how about the kidneys? I’ll give you a hard shot to the kidneys.”
  
  After haggling like I was buying a bracelet on a beach in Mexico we agreed upon an open handed slap across the left side of her face. And then I did it. Left a red palm print on her cheek and everything. 15 minutes later, after I had stopped crying, I untied her and she left without wrapping a goddamned thing around me. But that was okay. I wasn’t in the mood anymore anyway. I just wanted to call my mom and have her tell me everything was going to be alright while I fell asleep with my thumb somewhere near my mouth.
  
  Anyway, I realized then that I had no choice. I was Sensitive Guy. I will always cry at episodes of The Office. Whatever, I’m fine with that. I like watching Dancing with the Stars and I’m not ashamed of that. Much.
  Plus, if it wasn’t for my little trip to Creepytown I never would’ve met that Gothic Princess, who I married 2 years later. That’s right, I married the s**t out of her. How’s that for a third act twist? I’d tell you that story, but you might think it’s weird. Maybe some other time.

  
  

  
• May 12, 2010
• 12:52

  Twyla

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  We have a guest post from "D" today.  Happy Dating!
  I can still remember dear sweet Twyla (not her real name). Twyla was a teller at the bank I went to and she was kind of cute. Not the kind of cute that made me want to hop the counter, explore the vault and make a deposit, but more like a Kia Sophia rental car. I wanted to race it across town, burn the wheels off and then return it, no strings attached.
  I flirted, she flirted back. I suggested going for a drink, she giggled. The warm up was good; I was just waiting to put it in drive.
  Well, I got her number and said I would call in a few days. You might imagine my shock then when she called me the next night. Are you wondering why I didn’t mention that she got my number too? Well, that’s because I never gave it to her, she just went into the computer at work and got it from there…yea, no kidding.
  Now I’m guessing psycho but I decide to play along because I’m still thinking Kia rental so what the hell. We agree to meet at this dive of a diner (absolute s**t hole) for coffee. Prior to going I mentioned to my roomy that he needed to call me in an hour and a half and give me an out….just in case.
  So what happens next is right out of Springer. I walk in, find Twyla, approach the table and discover that it’s a party of 3. Sitting comfortably in his car seat is a 6 month old baby boy. Next I’m told that Twyla’s mom and dad are sitting in the booth behind us…they are apparently there because Twyla does not drive and therefore needed a ride. I am then told that the parents decided to stay and have dinner because well, why not eat at this great establishment, you know you want to.
  I struggled for the right words at first and probably made an ass of myself but Twyla was cool and seemed relatively peeved that mom and dad had stayed…although she was not too concerned about the effect of baby boy. After a sip of sumptuous diner coffee (made for old people with no taste buds), I started asking about baby. It turns out that dad split the minute he found out that Twyla was preggo and Twyla was not shy that she was looking for a “daddy” to help raise the little man.
  At about that point my pecker had begun to head home. Willy was already pissed that some other guy had stolen the Kia idea but my brain and Willy don’t talk much so I got the message late.

  
  

  
• May 07, 2010
• 18:18

  Tequila

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  In case you need some dating assistance...
  
  

  
  

  
• May 03, 2010
• 16:13

  Tips for Flirting with People Behind the Desk

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  I'm not really going to get into specifics, but I have a job where I work behind a desk.  My job is helping you find stuff, and I am supposed to be friendly and open and cheery and I happen to dress kinda cute most of the time.  People... some people... don't get that this is my job and I am like that to everyone.  Ladies in my profession are frequently the object of Craigslist Missed Connections and all sorts of other misplaced crushes.  Just because you have a card with my e-mail on it: don't send me drunken fanmail emails at 12:30 a.m. on a Sunday because I DON'T have a clue who you are. 
  
  I recently found myself flirting with a really really cute guy.  He was at his work.  It happened to be at a phone place, so in order to test my phone service he called my phone... like three times... just to check.  Now, honestly, the last thing I need in my life is ANOTHER guy to muck up the works, but Rebound Mojo is a bitch.  Instead of dwelling on my overwhelming knee-jerk reaction to text him, I am going to write a posting.
  
  Tips for Flirting with People Behind the Desk.
  
  1. This person is at work.
  2. This person is probably bored.
  3. This person is providing you with excellent customer service.
  4. This person probably has a supervisor watching them.
  5. This is first and foremost a commercial or educational interaction.
  6. Any personal information gleaned from this exchange is null and void for personal use.
  7. The way to ask someone out on a date is to ASK THEM OUT ON A DATE.
  
  Have a really nice day. Come back soon!

  
  

  
• May 02, 2010
• 12:29

  Out of the woodwork

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  How is it that ex-lovers and former flames know when you're no longer available?
  
  At a bar the other night, I ran into the Captain. More than a year ago, I had met him through a friend. That night, I ended up at his house, on the couch, drunk, while my friend was getting it on with Captain's roommate (they preferred to call it "housemates" because they don't share a room, but finding it important to make that distinction just seems vaguely homophobic to me). At some point, I said I was cold, and he offered to snuggle. Sweet. Then I started in about how I was worried about my new puppy who was home alone in her crate, and he offered to drive me to my house to let her out. I accepted. We chatted while he drove me home, and I impressed him by knowing about Stereolab. When we got to my house, he impressed me by knowing who Frida Kahlo is. He stayed the night. More snuggling, a little making out. In the morning, we exchanged phone numbers.
  
  For the next month, I threw myself at him. At one point I literally climbed into his bed and took my clothes off. Nothing. There was some making out, but I didn't even get laid. He never called me, and I refused to call him. Eventually, I gave up. We ran into each other from time to time over the next year or so, and I pretended I hadn't been totally rejected.
  
  But now that I'm deliriously happy with a hotass new boyfriend (with a sexy accent)?
  
  I ran into Captain at a concert. We chatted, he flirted his ass off. He acknowledged that he'd gained weight, referenced his new "man boobs." He said he'd since given up smoking pot. He had a new job and got to travel. At one point I said something particularly charming, and he smiled and said, "Will you be my girlfriend?"
  
  I laughed.
  
  "Seriously? You had your chance. Too late."
  
  "I know, I really f**ked that up. I'm sorry."
  
  "What?"
  
  "Oh, you know."
  
  "No, you can't apologize for something if you're not even willing to admit what it was."
  
  "I'm sorry I blew it with you and didn't ask you to be my girlfriend. I should have."
  
  I was surprised he said it.
  
  "Yeah, you are sorry," I said. "I'm a pretty rad girlfriend."

  
  

  
• April 29, 2010
• 10:08

  We all should expect Birthday Sex tonight.

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  That's right, Dating is Weird is two years old today.  That's like 30 in web years... which means that if we don't know what we are doing by now we are pretty much never going to. 
  
  To celebrate, we are taking off our old look and putting on something a little more comfortable. Our vacation has rested us up and we're feeling rather sassy.  (By "sassy" we MIGHT mean that we're still limping a bit and we used our last sick day for a hangover so we're so jazzed up on coffee right now.)
  
  There is going to be a photo contest coming up... the voting will take place on the Facebook page, though so be sure to friend us there.   We welcome your comments about our redesign... mostly because we need a good laugh every now and then. 
  
  As always, HAPPY DATING!!!

  
  

  
• April 01, 2010
• 22:29

  Kama Sutra lovin'

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  *** Editor's note: We're not dead! Here's a guest post, courtesy of The Kama Mama (I with I had a name with capital The at the beginning. Sigh.) ***
  
  Greetings DIW readers! As much as I love to read the dating stories and tales of love, heartache and general debauchery on this site, today I thought I'd offer a peek into the world of ancient Hindu dating practices.
  
  That's right! Apparently, the folks of ancient India were really into sex, and they collected their cultural sexual heritage into this little book called the Kama Sutra. The KS offers tons of advice on general living, marriage, sneaking guys into the king's harem and, of course, its famous sexual positions (for more on my exploration of said positions, you'll have to check out thekamamama.com).
  
  Today's discourse, though, has to do with first sex, that is, the first sexual encounter between a married couple. After courtship and wooing (and marriage, but whatever), the KS suggests there should be a waiting period during which the man is to "create confidence" in the girl before the couple gets to roll in ze hay. Keep in mind that despite their apparent sexual enlightenment, ancient Hindus lived in a patriarchal world where social norms included the caste system, marrying young and polygamy, among other practices now considered taboo (but they thought women were too good for blow jobs. Huh). That doesn't mean all of the advice offered by the Kama Sutra is bad (hello, Lotus position!), just that you have to consider it in its cultural context.
  
  OK, on to some dating tips from the KS:
  
  - After the wedding/wooing, sleep on the floor for three days and abstain from sex and salted foods. One KS contributor suggests the man refrain from speaking during this time. Critics say the girl might despise him as a eunuch if he does this, but I don't know ... I've never despised a guy who knows how to shut it when necessary, nor suspected he was a eunuch.
  
  - For the next SEVEN DAYS, bathe amidst the sounds of auspicious musical instruments and decorate yourselves. Harps and vajazzling, y'all!
  
  - Finally, after 10 days, the man should start plying the woman with his sexy ways -- embraces, lovely words. I'm all in favor of slow courtship, but seriously? Who would want to spend the first 10 days after the wedding being celibate? Oh, right, maybe the teenage girl who's afraid of the virtual stranger her parents just married her off to.
  
  - If the girl is reluctant, the man should beg, sweet-talk and, if all else fails, get down on his knees, "for it is a universal rule that however bashful or angry a woman may be, she never disregards a man's kneeling at her feet." Finally, some good advice.
  
  - After a little canoodling, the man should induce the woman into his lap, but if she still refuses his advances, he should frighten her by threatening to mark her lips and breasts with his teeth and nails, to do the same to his own body, and to then tell all his friends that she did it. Wait, what? That doesn't even make sense? How would he bite his own breasts? Wouldn't his friends just think he was a kinky mofo? And of course, that kind of play is definitely for consensual partners only.
  
  - If she's feelin' it, the man should now shampoo his wife's thighs. That's right, thighs. Because what's sexier than a thigh shampoo?
  
  - While engaged in thigh shampooing, the man should cop a feel of the woman's yoni, naturally.
  
  - Then, after he shares his feelings of love, his hopes for the future and his promise of fidelity with her, they can get down to business. But only in a way so as not to frighten her, the KS says.
  
  - Finally, the Kama Sutra offers some parting advice for men. It suggests men take the middle path with women, neither implicitly following the inclination of the girl, nor wholly opposing her. It suggests the man who increases a woman's honor is an object of love, whereas he who neglects a woman is thought of as a beast ignorant of the workings of the female mind. And, the KS wisely warns against rape, saying a woman who is forcibly enjoyed will begin to hate the man who has taken advantage of her.
  
  Lots to consider in the Kama Sutra. Some if it has no place in the modern world, where women choose as much as men. But sometimes, the ancients got it right. Slow, sexy courtship with baths, music and decorating of bodies? Yes, please.
  
  Oh, and thigh shampooing. Definitely thigh shampooing.

  
  

  
• March 09, 2010
• 16:34

  Another Editorial Break

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  Yeah...We're bums. Sorry. I'm going on a trip and my co-editor is doing her thing on a new blog.
  
  Promise we'll be back at the end of March with good stories and even better dating is weird madness.
  
  Love,
  S.G.Loughlin

  
  

  
• February 21, 2010
• 20:30

  Watch It, That First Step Is A Big One

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  **Thanks Slightly Disheveled for today's guest post.
  
  He works at my favorite "local" and has always gone out of his way to make me feel special. Especially when I'm at the "local" on one of my many stumblingly boring or confusingly misdirected attempts to date here in Small Town. He's recently untangled with his Other ...and ask me out. Me: elated.
  
  He picked me up at my house. We went to a few places and had he bought some edibles and drinkables, opening doors for me and all the nice things. Big Smile. We've already established an easy banter between us and it was turning into one of the best dates I have been on since leaving the East Coast. We got back to my house and are rounding the side of the house in the dark and I trip. I'm clumsy. I recover myself (I thought) only to find myself plunging down the stairs that lead to the basement. It's so dark that he stands there asking "where did you go?"
  
  Sprained ankle... not just a little sprained. I broke my heel bone into three pieces. I tore the top half of my fingernail off and was bleeding everywhere. He Band-Aided me and fed me Tylenol. Arranged the pillows so my ankle was propped up and put a bag of frozen veggies on it to ice it. In the morning he brought me the sweetest thing I have ever been given after a catastrophic first date: crutches. All I have to say here is: YAY FOR MEN WHO STILL KNOW HOW TO BEHAVE LIKE GENTLEMEN.
  
  We have scheduled a re-do. No more Redneck Dates: I's already crippled on the first date so's I cain't runs away no more. For the second date, we'll explore some of the finer points of French cookery.

  
  

  
• February 10, 2010
• 18:51

  Did We Forget To Mention We're On Break?

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  Yeah. Ooopsies. Sorry. We're taking a bit of time off from editing DIW. Forgot to mention that.
  
  Send us stories! It's Valentine's Day soon and I know ya'll got some messed up Valentine's stories.
  
  Best one gets $5 from me personally.
  
  Ciao,
  S.G. Loughlin

  
  

  
• January 22, 2010
• 7:30

  Co-sleeping

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  I remember clearly the first time a man farted on me -- and I'm not talking about my brother.
  
  You roll over in the night, you want to be the big spoon, so you cup your body to his, put your arm around his waist, then let it rest on his delightful chest. You nuzzle your nose between his shoulder blades, and you both settle in to the comfort of a warm body. Then: Pffft. Against your thigh.
  
  Here's the question: Is it rude to roll over? Do you just pretend it didn't happen?

  
  

  
• January 18, 2010
• 13:59

  Dear DatingIsWeird.com

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  **Short and sweet from anon. today.
  
  Dear DIW,
  
  I'd like to thank the former intern for dumping me and two days later taking the job I have wanted for a year. You rock.
  
  Love
  Anonymous

  
  

  
• January 13, 2010
• 8:36

  Vagina Power

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  ** We don't recommend watching this at work. Or in front of children.
  
  

  
  

  
• January 07, 2010
• 8:30

  I love you, internet

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  My first boyfriend was an anarchist. An anarcho-syndicist, to be precise, and a young student of philosophy. Big Nietzche fan. So, naturally, he didn’t believe in “love.” I did, though. And I was in love.
  
  I wanted desperately to tell him I loved him, but I was terrified of saying it first. So I moped, and pined, and whenever he said anything that began with “I love …” I froze in anticipation. The sentences always ended with something like “this slice of pizza” “this weed” or “Hegel’s dialectical method.” Maybe, if I was lucky, it was “I love your ass.”
  
  So finally, one drunken evening (Now, I can’t remember how far along the relationship was at this point. I felt like we’d been together FOREVER and would be together FOREVER and that my soul was his soul, and that there was no other love like ours, but in reality it had probably been a month. That’s the equivalent of a decade when you’re 15), we were laughing about something, and I did something really funny, I have no idea what, and he laughed, “I love you!” And apparently the look of soaring joy on my face was too much for him, and he explained that he didn’t mean it THAT way. So, naturally, I cried.
  
  And since then, in relationships, I still have never said the “L” word first. Not-a-once. A lot of women I know don’t. I will ask a man out, I will tell him where to put it (literally and figuratively), I’ll take all kinds of risks in relationships. But the “L” word? No way.
  
  What about you, gentle readers? Do you say the L word first? What’s it like?
  
  p.s. Do any of y’all do this twitter thing? I do. Find me at Twitter.com/serialmono

  
  

  
• December 31, 2009
• 8:37

  Messy First Impressions

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  I met my steady beau's parents for the first time over the holidays this year. Everything was great. They loved me, I loved them, presents were exchanged, etc.
  
  So I was feeling pretty solid when a few days into the visit, beau and I have sex in the spare bedroom. I'm on my period, so we put a towel down. At one point in the whole romp I feel a bit more wetness than normal but I think whatever, there's a towel..
  
  Oops.
  
  When we're done doing the deed, I get up to examine the towel and sheets. And there are three bright red spots on the top sheet. Three more bright red spots on the under sheet. And three more bright red spots on the down comforter thinger on top of the mattress. Thankfully there weren't any on the actual mattress.
  
  Mortified. Absolutely mortified at not only the three bright red spots but also the fact that beau has to tell his mother that I started my period and had an accident. (No f**king way are we telling her what it was actually from.)
  
  I can overhear their conversation, in which he actually says "______ had her period last night and it got on the sheets. She's mortified." and somehow the level of embarrassment increases ten-fold.
  
  Beau's mom handles it like a champ. She's nice and says its no big deal, gives me a hug and sends us on our way for the day. When we return, the sheets are all clean with no sign of last night's mess.
  
  Ok, great. No problem. Handled that. But then the next morning, I wake up to find black spots all over the pillow case.
  
  My f**king hair dye from three weeks ago stained the pillow case. I had gone to bed with my hair wet and apparently there was still dye left all these weeks later.
  
  F**king hell. No way am I taking the fall on this one so I insist that beau take responsibility and say it's his dirty working man's hands that caused the spots.
  
  Whether or not beau's mother believed him, I wasn't around to find out.

  
  

  
• December 22, 2009
• 15:36

  In the news

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  Last week, I picked up a copy of our local alt weekly, and inside, there was a story about a local band, and, whaddya know, I went on an awkward blind date with one of the fellers. Awkward's actually not the right word, not totally. It was a fun time. We met for beers and split some chicken wings, and had a nice conversation. He made me laugh. The only awkward part was when I had to tell him that although I'd had a nice time, I wasn't planning to see him again. The thing was, he had led me to believe he was at least 60 pounds lighter than he was. I like big boys, but not that big.
  
  Flipping farther back in the issue, I saw another story about a local hip-hop dance program in town, and, whaddya know, the photo was of a fellow I'd gone out with twice, then decided not to see again. Except when, bored one drunken evening, I saw his green chat bubble pop up and flirted my way into a bootie call.
  
  I really need to move to a bigger town.

  
  

  
• December 16, 2009
• 7:19

  Cats break up, too

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  

  
  

  
• December 10, 2009
• 9:07

  On retiring poster boy

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  Hey, y’all, heads up: This is a long post. You’re not required to read it. (Yes, I’m talking to you Anonymous Cereal Hater. You’re not going to like this post. You are welcome to save yourself some time by not reading it. I can just comment for you: "Cereal sucks and she can’t write blah blah blah, Signed, ACH.")
  
  I recently wrote here about the family of my ex, Poster Boy. All it amounts to is a little ditty about how I love and miss them, and they miss me, too. In comments, I was accused of having a heart. (And yes, maybe, Internet, I’ll admit that I do, in fact, have a heart — just don’t tell anyone, OK?)
  
  I sent a link to a member of Poster Boy’s family, a woman who has become a friend. I think her reply was, “Awwwwwww.”
  
  Days later, late on a Friday night, I noticed I’d missed a call from Poster Boy. I called him back pronto, since, although we’d remained friendly enough that I’d actually had him and his girlfriend to my house for a big, fan-f**king-tastic end-of-the-summer bash about a month prior, (after I extended the invite, he called me to thank me, then Miss Poster Boy emailed me, thanked me for the invite, and asked what she could bring. I thought we were all being Oh-So Mature until he got a little too drunk at the party, and, in a mock-friendly gesture, slapped me on the back hard enough to leave a welt) he didn’t usually call me at midnight. I was worried.
  
  “Well, I actually wanted to talk to you about what you wrote about me and my family on the internet,” he said. I could tell he was drunk. I refused, on account of the drunkenness and told him we’d talk later.
  
  But when I got home, I listened to the message. It was a condescending reprimand about how I needed to move on and stop writing about him on the Internet, (I guess writing my mother, or writing in my journal, or writing a zine would have been cool, but not the Internet) about how I’m a grown adult and I need to start acting like one. I think there was something in there about how the internet isn’t everything. (We know better than that, though, don’t we?) I texted him a message reading, basically: “Eat s**t and die.”
  
  He called me. Stupidly, I answered, and he ranted and talked down to me. When I reminded him that he was not allowed to talk like that to me, he actually responded, “I can talk to you any f**king way I want.” Naturally, I hung up on him.
  
  But I was confused. He’d never before minded when I wrote about him on DIW. I think he liked the notoriety. He even commented on some posts — even after we broke up. He e-mailed me about one once and told me it had touched him. And there are choice Poster Boy stories — horrifying, jaw-dropping stories — that I’ve never written about on this site. Believe it or not, I do have boundaries.
  
  I noticed the next day that a comment had been left on the post at about the same time we talked, an anonymous comment reading “get a f**king life and move on.”
  
  I was done. I sent an email and told him that if he didn’t want me to write about him, he could’ve just ASKED. I wouldn’t even need a “please.” But I’d taken my last drunken phone call—something I should have done years earlier. I told him to lose my number.
  
  Then a twist came. Poster Boy replied to my e-mail. He apologized. Twice. He told me he knew he shouldn’t have spoken to me like that and shouldn’t have called drunk. Then he closed by saying that he hadn’t commented on the post, hadn’t even read it, and: “Just so you know it makes things awkward for me that my family and you still are in contact with each other.”
  
  Clarity. It was young Miss Poster Boy who’d read the post, gotten pissed, left the s**tty comment. In all likelihood, it was she he was showing off for when he called and insulted me. Of course.
  
  And it’s no wonder. Not everyone understands this about blogging and dating: When you’re in a relationship, a really good one, sometimes the new relationship doesn’t make it on your dating blog. I guess some people don’t like being written about on s**t-talky dating blogs. That’s actually OK with me because the funny thing that happened yesterday with the sensitive, sexy man I’m now running around with? It feels precious and private.
  
  However, the love I feel for people who were a second family to me for half of a decade? That feels like something other people might identify with. Lots of emotionally mature folks get that sort of thing.
  
  And Miss Poster Boy? Poor thing. I sort of feel bad that she’s so insecure. That she doesn’t get, and clearly doesn’t have, that type of connection, forged over time. I really wish her luck with Poster Boy. And I know she’s going to need it.
  
  But, here’s the thing: She won. Poster Boy and I are done. We don’t talk. I think that’s what she really wanted. Thanks to her hissy fit, I’ve decided it’s time to retire Poster Boy.
• December 09, 2009
• 9:25

  The Band

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  Or: How to ruin your ex’s birthdays for the rest of his natural life in ten steps
  
  Step one: Find out that one of his favorite bands is playing on his birthday, in town, in a tiny venue.
  
  Step two: Go to the show with him… not like WITH him, but with his friend group.
  
  Step three: Dress really well. Drink. Dance. Take some pictures. Get up really close to the stage.
  
  Step four: Find out where the band is drinking after the show, and then drag him and his friends there.
  
  Step five: Get autographs and strike up a conversation with the band.
  
  Step six: Have the guitarist buy him a birthday drink. Accept several free drinks from said guitarist, since he asked, thank you very much.
  
  Step seven: It would be a huge plus if the guitarist has a foreign accent.
  
  Step eight: Find out that the guitarist was just standing in for their usual guitarist, but that he usually tours with a much more well-known band that you are also a fan of.
  
  Step nine: Get yourself invited back to the hotel to party. Make sure the ex and his friends have got an invite too. Party like a goddamn rockstar, but keep your clothes on.
  
  Step ten: Apologize. He will never be able to top that as a birthday party. Ever.
  
  
  -Slightly Disheveled
• December 02, 2009
• 16:07

  How to Maintain F**k Buddy Status

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  Part One: Make a Breakfast Burrito
  
  Many friends, acquaintances and talk shows have told me over the years that it is impossible to stay f**k buddies with someone. Reasons are that either emotions get in the way because one person wants a relationship and the other doesn't or that it ruins friendships, as sex often does. However, I'm happy to report that I've managed to pull it off in multiple instances, so I'd like to share my knowledge with those of you who are committed to establishing and maintaining a f**k buddy relationship. So, I present to you a series on how to maintain f**k buddy status.
  
  First, we must weed out candidates who do not belong here. It is true that most f**k buddy situations get screwed up when one party develops romantic feelings (rather than purely lustful feelings) for the other party. If you are the type of person who can't engage in sex without developing these sort of emotions, turn back now. Accept yourself for who you are, and wait patiently for a relationship. Also, if you do not drink, this course is not for you.
  
  It is true that sex ruins friendships. So don't be f**k buddies with your friends. If you want to maintain f**k buddy status, you cannot be friends with your f**k buddy. The only reason you should hang out with your f**k buddy is to f**k. Are we clear? Yes, you can go out drinking and engage in other activities with your f**k buddy, but all of these activities should be seen only as a precursor to f**king.
  
  So, now that we've eliminated the emotional types and we've established the First Habit of Highly Effective F**k Buddies (don't be friends), we can move on to establishing the f**k buddy relationship. This is important because without the proper steps, a f**k buddy arrangement can easily become one of the above scenarios. If a friendship or romantic feelings develop, you and your f**k buddy are f**ked.
  
  Both times I've established and maintained f**k buddy status, it began with getting drunk. After you're sufficiently sloshed, find your target. Your target should be someone you kind of know but who is not part of your circle of friends. Maybe it's a bartender who at least recognizes you from previous visits. Maybe it's a friend of a friend of a friend (notice three degrees of separation, not two) or someone who you have "seen around campus." College is, of course, the ideal time for f**k buddies. In a nutshell, your target should not be a total stranger, and at the very least you should know that this person actually lives in your city. So let's hope you are intoxicated enough to continue to the next step, because you've got to be pretty bold for this part. You must make it clear to your target that you are interested in having sex, right away, that night.
  
  What happens after your target accepts your edict is really only your business, but the next morning is crucial. If you're at the target's house and you sneak out without saying goodbye, this encounter is destined to remain a one-night stand. Same goes for if you are the host and you kick your potential f**k buddy out as soon as you wake up. The appropriate thing to do if you are hosting is to make your potential f**k buddy breakfast. Make something casual and simple, like a breakfast burrito. Don't make a big deal out of it; this might be read as a sign that you are trying to establish a relationship. No, if you want to get yourself a f**k buddy, you must prepare a breakfast that says "I care about you just enough that I don't want you to be hungry." If you are not hosting, eat it. Say thank you. When you are done, go home. You don't need to say why you are leaving; just leave.
  
  
  This concludes Part One of How to Maintain F**k Buddy Status. Tune in sometime later to read more, including appropriate activities for f**k buddies, birthday etiquette, text messaging and appropriate discussion topics.
  
  Some Sexpert
• December 01, 2009
• 9:11

  This Thanksgiving can kiss my ass. Seriously.

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  So, after waiting to see if "Henry" was going to up the ante and invite me to his family's Thanksgiving, I decided not to even bring it up with him and just go to the Thanksgiving Orphan's party that I was invited to. Yes, I had already accepted the invite to the party and yes, that was where I had planned on going... but I really feel that I needed to start this out with that particular angry dig. It was the thought that counted, really. I don't really have any interest in hanging out specifically with his family, since after the first few drinks everything gets relative, no matter if you're with family or not.
  
  And that was where I found myself at three in the afternoon, among all of my new friends who I'd met only hours earlier ...and the guy with the crush on me who invited me. I am by that time wearing an apron with Michelangelo's David's "naughty bits" on the front, starring as the uncontested countess of the kitchen. In a room with incredibly drunk straight single men. ALL of the men wearing black glasses. I might have just described my own personal heaven: the only girl at a geeky drunk sausage party. There are two turkeys ...and stuffing with broccoli - "just the tips" we kept saying - you can take it back out if you don't like it. After about a case of beer and really not sure how much vodka, and I can't even think to count how many bottles of wine both red and white and maybe even a pink one someone brought thinking there'd be chicks there... then the absinthe came out. By that I mean two bottles and by came out I mean special stuff brought in
  from Switzerland. By one-ay-hem I was trying to coax a guy with a PhD to go to his bed (yes, alone) but he was very comfortable face-down on the carpet in the middle of his living room ("no look, I'm not on the carpet, see... I have my hand there") but there was no way I was taking him there and there was no way he was going alone.
  
  That's when I get the booty call text from "Henry". I went to his friend's house where he was crashed face-down into a mattress in the third bedroom. Yeah. I hit that. Then I got up and went home because I didn't want my "walk of shame" to be into directly into work the next day. Out in the cold again, that was when I realized I should have stayed where I was at the first time. Maybe finished doing the dishes and wiping down the countertops and then crashed on the couch for a little bit. Because dating IS weird. Because I just am having a very hard time understanding exactly why I am behaving in such an extraordinary fashion over "Henry" instead of 409-ing countertops for a perfectly nice guy with absinthe, black glasses, and a PhD. Wait, I forgot to add he played college football and all of the other nerds were snowboarders and skiiers and not fatties and WOW'ers. And the gated community was a delicious add-on too.
  
  This year for Thanksgiving, I was thankful that my love interest has his head "so arranged" that I got to go to a fantastic party and meet people who may be just as passed-out face-down at the end of the night, but who are at least doing it in their own house. I wonder what I'm getting for Christmas.
  
  -Sofia Vanderslice
• November 30, 2009
• 12:52

  Throw Up in Your Mouth Alert

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  I'm not the Rom-Com type. I hate cheesy romantic stories where the chick gets swept off her feet by Matthew McConaughey (why is he in every one of those god-forsaken movies?) and I typically retch when told cutesey-wootsey tales of love. Valentine's Day is bulls**t as are most things having to do with Disney's version of true love.
  
  It is with this disclaimer that I post what is most assuredly the grossest romantic thing to ever happen to me. Even I was like, really? That's so sweet it hurts my teeth.
  
  I was in an outpatient surgery center a few weeks ago recovering from a minor procedure that included conscious sedation. I was just coming to but was still pretty out of it. I turned my head to see my big handsome boyfriend sitting by my bedside smiling.
  
  "Mmmmmmmmhhiiiiii..." I mumbled before drifting off again, feeling comfortable and safe knowing he was there.
  
  Later he told me that a beep from the heart monitor alerted him to the fact that my heart rate slowed down by about ten beats per minute when I saw him.
  
  Apparently being in love is the best medicine.
• November 21, 2009
• 9:30

  On kissing photos

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  Dear Facebook,
  
  First, let me make it clear that I think it is gross when ANYONE posts a profile picture that features people kissing. I don't really care if people post kissing photos in albums, and it doesn't bother me when people's profile pictures include a significant other. In fact, I think that is kind of sweet. But I draw the line at kissing pictures. And I know I am not alone. A friend of mine just a few minutes ago posted a status message about how gross it was to watch people kissing in public (on a plane). No, it's not better when it is a photo instead of live.
  
  So, Facebook, because I don't want to see kissing photos of anyone -- not newlyweds, not close friends, not my grandparents, not strangers -- no matter how attractive they are, it should come as no surprise to you that I do not want to see it when my ex-boyfriend posts a profile picture of him kissing his current girlfriend. Let me make it clear that I honestly and truthfully never think about this ex. I don't think about any of my exes, and I don't harbor any kind of feelings for any of them, negative or positive. Note that no negative feelings means I do not unfriend my exes on Facebook because that would require feelings, specifically unfriendly ones. It is possible for me to have no feelings of any sort for my exes because I don't communicate with them. At all. This method has always worked amazingly well and has made my life low on drama and heartache. Best of all, it's very easy for me.
  
  It was also easy for me to move on. It was easy for me to get into a good relationship with someone I truly love, live with and have been with for a long time. It was easy for me to not think of my ex. However, you have caused a quandary, Facebook. Yes, I did hide his updates from appearing in my news stream so that I could continue life with the luxury of not thinking about him. But, as I explained beofre, he is still there. That means when I search my friends, sometimes I see his photo.
  
  This brings me to yesterday, and the suddently stronger-than-usual aversion to kissing photos. My eyes registered the kissing photo, and my brain said, "hmm, that's gross, but you don't care. Why would you care? You haven't thought about him for a long time, and you have no ill will toward him, so it shouldn't bother you that he has a girlfriend. Who he is kissing. In his Facebook profile picture. ... What are you doing? Why are you clicking on it? Now you're going to see his whole profile, you idiot! What?! You're clicking it again so you can see a bigger version of it? Why? Why would you ... huh, he still lives in that same crappy apartment. Close this page! Good job."
  
  So, you see, Facebook, you are messing up my whole strategy. Of course, that was yesterday and this is today. Today, I don't care about the ex-boyfriend-kissing-new-girlfriend photo. (Did I ever?) Of course, I'm not looking at it right now either. Why am I not looking at it? Because photos of people kissing being put as their Facebook profile pictures is GROSS, and that is really all I was trying to say. Really.
  
  Get a Room Or Stop Snogging
• November 19, 2009
• 9:37

  1%

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  A little while ago, a newishly-single, male friend was getting set up on a date with a woman he’d only met once; the setters were a married couple. Just before the date, the setter-husband got just drunk enough to tell my buddy this:
  
  “You know how probably 20 percent of girls will let you put it in their asses, and then only 1 percent of THEM actually like it? I’m telling you, I don’t know why, but I think this girl’s a 1 percenter.”
  
  Personally, I lack the equipment (and inclination) to have a sample set against which to compare this data, but I’m just sayin’ this: Really?
  
  I mean, Really?
• November 17, 2009
• 20:45

  Flowchart to Determine If Your Girlfriend Is Cheating On You

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  
  **Funny story over at holytaco.com
  
  Girlfriends are a lot like volcanoes: they're fascinating and mysterious, and at any time they can explode and completely blow your head off. I might be confusing volcanoes with those collars from the movie Scanners. Anyway, here's a flowchart to help you determine if your girlfriend is cheating on you:
  
• November 09, 2009
• 20:46

  Sniffle

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  OK, so being sick sucks. But when you're in a new relationship, it's a wonderful litmus test. The first time you're stuck in bed, feeling miserable, achey, smelly and like maybe you'd like the rest of the world to go ahead and f**k off and die, and then Mr. Lovely shows up with 7-up and pudding cups, then sits on your bedside rubbing your back for a minute before loading up your bed with pillows, and setting up your laptop with his hard drive full of mindless movies? It's kind of kickass.
  
  And if he gets sick a day later, and you get to return the favor, and make him soup and rub his back and clean up the nasty tissues and act like you couldn't care in the least? It's satisfying -- NOT, of course, that you don't feel awful that he's sick, especially since you know where he got the cooties in the first place.
  
  Now, you've probably seen this, hell, I've probably posted it here before, but I like watching this come flu season:
  
  
• November 03, 2009
• 12:57

  Can't get enough of that Craigslist

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  *** Editor's note: Today's Craigslist Gem comes from Sir Robin, AKA The Fool. Happy dating! ***
  
  Being male, I'm used to being cast as the villain, but there are some dating scenarios that would make even the most virtuous white knight act rather like Sir Robin. Appropriately enough, a confrontation with a three-headed ogre is a pretty fair metaphor when used to describe my date, although to hear her tell it, I was the one who behaved inappropriately. We had first connected online, through Craig's List, and the day after our dating disaster, I found the following post:
  
  "/Last night was the worst first date of my life. Not only was it with the creepiest guy I had ever seen, but after pressuring me into a late-night meeting at Denny's and making me drive an hour out of my way, he barely said a word to me... except to call me fat and tell me to stop eating so much. He tried to order booze after I told him I didn't drink, and he wouldn't take his shades off the entire time. We won't be going out again./"
  
  There was no question that it was about me. The sunglasses bit confirmed it, although she left out the part where I apologized for my debilitating light-sensitivity. Still, as certain as I was about the subject of the story, I wasn't completely clear on the details.
  
  1. "/... After pressuring me into a late-night meeting at Denny's.../" Apparently, responding to passive-aggressive accusations about not being interested counts as pressuring. When I suggested that we wait until Saturday afternoon to meet - rather than a bit past ten on Friday evening - she questioned whether I really wanted to meet at all. I assured her that I did, and she asked if I knew of any restaurants that were open late. "Only Denny's," I joked. Her unexpected response was that Denny's was fine by her. It wasn't quite what I had in mind, but I supposed that it was better than a dingy dive bar somewhere.
  
  2. "/... Making me drive an hour out of my way.../" We lived three hours apart. You do the math.
  
  3. "/... except to call me fat.../" She weighed at least a hundred pounds more than she had led me to believe, but I didn't say anything about it. At least, not until she asked - and this was perhaps the second thing she said to me - "I'm heavier than you expected, aren't I?" My response, for the record, was a decidedly lame reply of "And prettier, too!" Really, though, is there a right answer to that question?
  
  4. "/... and tell me to stop eating so much./" While we had been planning the date, she asked if I would mind paying. While we were eating, she kept ordering more additions to the meal. While looking into my wallet - figuratively speaking - I politely stated that I couldn't comfortably afford much more, being that I was a broke college student. While ignoring my statement, she ate my french fries.
  
  5. "/He tried to order booze.../" No, I tried to order a Shirley Temple. It was the waiter who thought that I was trying to order booze. At least he realized his mistake after I explained it to him.
  
  Perhaps my favorite accusation, though, is this one:
  
  6. "/... he barely said a word to me./" This is true. Of course, it's a little bit hard to get a word in edgewise when she and her sister - who she brought along as a chaperon - are spending the entire time gossiping about friends whom I've never even heard of whilst dining on the meal that I paid for. It's even worse when they both glare at me every time I try to interject a comment or ask a question, and downright insulting when the they discuss me in whispers that they think I can't overhear from across the table.
  
  In spite of all those incorrect details, though, there's definitely one thing that she got exactly right: "/We won't be going out again./"
  
  Believe me, folks... As soon as it was polite enough to do so, Sir Robin ran away.
• October 29, 2009
• 20:58

  Adventures on CL

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  At the start of summer I placed an add on Craigslist in an attempt to find a few playmates for my two year old son and hopefully one for myself. Our first meetings were usually at a park with the kids just before nap time so I had an easy out if things turned bad.
  
  The following is an example of when things turn out bad, well badish.
  
  In my inbox was a long message from a woman, lets call her Lisa. Lisa is a single mother of four boys, all two years apart, all with different fathers. I am not one to judge being the middle child of three who all have different dads but she also has restraining orders on two of the four so... We seemed to have a list of things in common but they're the sort of things that most everyone has in common- funny movies, likes dogs, eating good food, drinking, etc etc. And a number of things not in common, the biggest being an addiction to drugs that she had beaten a couple of years back... not something I would include in my opening get to know you letter but... I wrote back and sent her a picture of myself asking for one in return. She sent me a number of photos and although I considered her sort of pretty she wasn't smiling in a single one. I thought it odd and asked for a smile and got a sort of grimace with tight lips. After a week or so we met at a local park with my son and two of her boys. I didn't dress up but looking at her Cowboys sweatshirt that was four or five sizes too large, the Yankees hat pulled down over her eyes and the faded and torn blue jeans Lisa wore didn't make me feel like I'd found someone really special. We sat on a bench and talked while the kids played but I spent the whole time talking to the back of her head. At first I thought maybe she's just really diligent about watching her boys but something felt wrong. At this point I could already tell that we weren't very compatible and was getting ready to institute the 'nap time' clause. Just then one of Lisa's boys ran up to us and as they talked I noticed that something was wrong with Lisa's mouth. I couldn't put my finger on it at first but over the next five minutes or so I came to realize that she was missing all her upper teeth. A bare palate. She must have seen me notice because she covered her mouth with one hand and looked away again. Now I felt like an ass... how to leave gracefully? I had already made the decision to go before I caught sight of her toothless mouth but now all signs would point to THAT being my reason for going. I kept up some small talk for a minute and then luckily, my son s**t his pants so we were able to make a discreet exit.
  
  I have a good friend who, upon hearing this story asked me what the problem was. 'I mean, come on dude,' he said. 'She doesn't have any teeth. THINK ABOUT IT MAN, JUST THINK ABOUT IT.'
• 7:48

  Family

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  Poster Boy and I split a year and a half ago, and that's a good thing. It's been great for both of us.
  
  The thing that still sucks though? I love his family.
  
  The first time I met his grandmother, she walked into the room in her coordinated pantsuit, her smart black wig, giant glasses and dangling, colorful earrings and waved her cigarette at me while exclaiming in a voice that can only come from years of chain smoking, "What a pretty girl!"
  
  How could I not fall in love?
  
  I sent Poster Boy's family Christmas cards last year, the first Christmas in a half-decade that I wasn't with them. I've had drinks with some of them since going solo, gotten together once or twice. But I haven't heard from the grandparents (who adore their only grandson with a sweetly blind fervor) since the breakup.
  
  So when I saw a missed call from their house on my phone last week, my heart started pounding. S**t, s**t, s**t. They're old, and not very healthy.
  
  There was a voice mail. I called, my hands practically shaking, not at all willing to hear bad news about these people, who for the years I knew them were more kind to me than most of my own grandparents had ever been.
  
  A message from poster boy's aunt:
  
  "Hey, (Serial). I was just calling because my mom's cleaning some stuff out of the house, and she has this bear that wears costumes, and she wanted to send it to you. She said you had admired it once. So we need your address, if you send it now maybe we can get it to you in time for Halloween. Call us back here. We miss you sweetheart, hope you're doing good."
  
  I called back, I'd missed grandma, so I left my address with grandpa. He told me how it had been a good relationship, and to keep in touch, and that they wanted me to know how much they had always liked me.
  
  I can't wait to get that goddam bear.
• October 23, 2009
• 11:30

  Based on a true story

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  One night stand gone horribly, horribly wrong:
  
  
  
  Thanks, Ms. Disheveled!
• October 20, 2009
• 16:06

  Better Late Than Never

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  **Makes sense this would come in from an anon.
  
  A few years ago an ex of mine (who dumped me), died. We'd lost touch, but I heard about it through old friends. What sucks is that she was quite young. What is weird is that after hearing of her death, I had a few dreams about her. In the dreams she was yelling at me (in our two year relationship she never yelled, ever) and telling me how horrible I was at relationships. So I started thinking about her and our relationship and recognized that she was right, that I really was bad at being in a relationship. I communicated rarely and when I did I was aloof and distracted. I am ashamed to say that I think I went for months without looking her in the eye. I judged her for her inability to find a job, I criticized her for her shyness at parties, and one time, oh god, I even called her fat.
  
  No wonder she dumped me, though at the time I remember feeling it all as quite unfair. At any rate, the realization that I had been such an asshole, no, that I'd actually been way worse than just an asshole, I'd been a mean asshole, hit me pretty hard and I was filled with massive remorse. All I wanted to do was apologize -- but she was DEAD! Frankly, the whole thing was really kinda sad.
• October 13, 2009
• 21:46

  Dear Serial: Who buys dinner?

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  Dear Serial,
  
  So, I'm back into the dating scene again after a 15-year hiatus, and am totally clueless about protocol, etc. I figured that you, Ms. Serial, as a renowned and infamous serial dater, might have some advice on first dates, having had SOOOOOO many.
  
  So, I have a date tomorrow with a friend of a friend. We're planning to go out for dinner, and I'm unsure about the whole payment thing. I mean, it used to be that dudes were always expected to pay, but when I was dating before, that wasn't always the deal. I mean, some women were actually offended by that and felt like if the man paid, there was an expectation. Plus, this is a reaaaaallly casual date. I have no idea if I'm at all "into" this woman. I'm kinda just wanting to go on some dates and see how it all works again.
  
  So, should I pay or not?
  
  Mr. Completely Out Of the Loop
  

  
  
  
  
  Dear Mr. Cool (nice work on that one, by the by),
  
  Yes. Pay for dinner.
  
  Love,
  
  Serial
  
  OK, cool, sorry. You probably were looking for some justification on this one. So just to be sure, I surveyed women of various ages, and all said that yes, they want a man to pay for dinner. One response was, and I'm not making this up, "If he wants a blow job he'll pay."
  
  Now, I'm not saying buying dinner automatically entitles you to a blow job, you'll have to show up with flowers or something in order to earn that (and not roses, for the love of god). Most women will go on a date with the expectation that she might have to pay half. One woman said that she always takes enough cash to pay for half of dinner and a cab ride home. Now maybe my sample's unenlightened and anti-feminist, but ... there's a good chance that a lady who's going to go on such a traditional first date is not exactly avant-garde.
  
  Personally, if I go out with a guy, and offer to pay half (I always offer), and my cash doesn't get turned down, I assume he's not that into me. So, I guess if that's the message you want to convey, then by all means, split the check. Hell, try to get her to pay. That could work out really well for you, I guess. Perhaps she's rich and looking for a kept man? Stranger things have happened.
  
  XOXO Cool,
  
  Serial
  
  Got a question for the Serial Monogamist? Send it on over to seriallymonogamous[at]gmail[dot]com.
• October 08, 2009
• 15:21

  just to be sure I thought I'd ask

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  When a young woman tells you to "stop doing that with your toes and get out of my house in fact forget it i'm calling the cops and im telling all our friends what you did and i cant believe you did that i feel sick to my stomach." is there any possible way that she's just playing hard to get? My intuition tells me that she was actually upset, but just to be sure i thought I'd ask.
• October 03, 2009
• 11:04

  Arm twisting

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  Last night, I had a newish squeeze over for a movie. I succumbed to a frantic week, and passed out about 20 minutes in. I woke to the credits, and a large hand pinching my thigh.
  
  "Hmf," I said, in my best imitation of myself from Jr. High, "Can't I just sleep here?"
  
  "You can sleep wherever you want," he said. "I'm gonna go get naked and get in your bed."
  
  And that, boys, is how you convince a lady.
• September 29, 2009
• 7:57

  Before eHarmony

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  
• September 25, 2009
• 13:59

  Things I learned the hard way

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  - Taking relationships slow is rarely regrettable. OK, there was that one time that you took things slow and the potential love of your life got hit by a car before you got a chance to see where things were going, but other than that? Draw out twitterpation. It's good for the soul.
  
  - Just because your mom wants you to ask your boyfriend to be in the family Olan Mills photos she's scheduling doesn't mean you should ask him.
  
  - If you're going to plan a vacation to Mexico with a new boyfriend and his family, be sure you're comfortable enough to ask them if you can stop at the store for some anti-diarrheal medication. You also might want to be sure you can handle a surf-related wardrobe malfunction in front of his dad. Especially if you're not so good at ducking waves (Note to non-Pacific NW readers: People from Oregon don't usually swim in the Ocean, it's too effing cold. So that whole counter-intuitive dive into the wave to avoid getting smashed by it thing? Some of us missed that lesson.)
  
  C'mon readers. What did you learn the hard way?
• September 21, 2009
• 7:33

  High maintenance

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  I recently went out on a perfectly fine little first date. Date was on time, cute enough, and the conversation was good. So good, in fact, that we were both shocked to discover that it was nearly 2 a.m.
  
  As I waited for a cab, he stood on the curb with me, close enough to smell. Smelled nice. We talked about seeing "Action Flick by That One Really Good Director," and he said he'd call me to arrange it, told me he would be out of town for a couple of days, but he'd be back by midweek. As my cab pulled up, I saw him going for a kiss, but I was feeling like dragging things out (anticipation can be fun), so I have him a hug, a big smile and a wink, and I was off.
  
  A week later, nay, more than a week later, I got a text:
  
  "Seen Action Flick Yet?"
  
  I was a little confused about why it had taken so long to make any contact, but I shrugged and replied:
  
  "Not yet."
  
  A week later, I sent a text:
  
  "Cat got your tongue? Well, no worries, I'll see it solo. Best, June."
  
  He replied:
  "No no, my friend. I just wasn't particularly enthused by your response. What time do you get off work this week?"
  
  Really, internet? Would you go out with a guy who's that high-maintenance? I mean, what did he want, a smiley face emoticon at the end of the text?
  
  Is there an emoticon that means "Fat Chance"?
• September 16, 2009
• 10:48

  Tweezed Out

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  **Today's guest post comes in from "G. Ross"**
  
  I'm sick of DIW. Sorry to say, but I am. It has way too many stories from chicks who just rip on dudes. Makes me wonder if it's become a front for a bunch of angry dykes who don't know how to actually be with a man.
  
  I digress.
  
  I'm sending this story in about a woman I began dating a few months ago to try and offset all the male-bashing going on. This site used to be better. It used to have stories from guys about the very real phenomenon of crazy chicks. What happened? Where'd c.vance go? My father always taught me that if you're going to bitch about something then you better be prepared to try and fix it. So here's to you pops.
  
  S**** and I began dating after a heavy night of drinking. Blah blah...one night stand...turned into a first date....and here we are hanging out four months later. She's a cool girl. Into a lot of the same stuff I am. Doesn't run her mouth too much and when she does, it's not complete inane blathering. So she's got that going for her.
  
  Everything's been going great. Good sex. Decent conversation. Not overly clingly. Just great. Until a few nights ago when I walked in on her in the bathroom.
  
  Now my pops also told me that women have bags of tricks that men should never, ever try to open. This is what makes them female, he said. Appreciate the magic but don't try to understand the magic. Apparently the bathroom is where women practice their magic. Wish he had told me that one.
  
  We'd just finished having sex and S**** jumped out of bed to "freshen up" as women-folk like to say. Ok, fine. Whatever. About 12 minutes go by. My need to pee is pretty intense by now. I originally thought she'd take no more than 5 minutes. How much water do you need to splash down there to freshen up ladies?
  
  How wrong I was.
  
  I finally say f**k it and knock on the bathroom door. No answer. Dude. I need to piss. Bad. So I say f**k it again and open the door.
  
  S**** is kneeling on top of the sink, inches away from the mirror, plucking hairs from her nipples. She screams when I walk in and falls off the counter. I am so startled I just stand there, mouth gaping.
  
  She begins yelling at me about f**king knocking and bum rushes me out of the bathroom. I am too bewildered by what I saw to do anything except allow her to shoo me out. I go to the porch and take a leak off the side of it. Thank god for dicks.
  
  We haven't discussed it. Thank god. It's weird though. The image in burned into my mind. Sometimes it flashes while we're having sex and I go to suck on her tits. Weird dude. F**king weird. Chicks are weird.
• September 13, 2009
• 20:05

  All about ass

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  *** Today we have an anonymous guest post with a little (though direct) message for the fellas ***
  
  
  Hey, so I just want to say, from a woman's perspective, for all the guys out there: I do not want you to put things in my ass. If I do want you to put something in my ass, I'll go ahead and tell you. Otherwise, maybe it's safe to assume that no, I do not want you to put your dick or your finger in my ass.
  
  Seriously, every dude I'm with, when we're going at it, and I'm getting close, will grab hold of the cheeks (THIS IS GOOD!) and then a finger will wander southward. THIS IS NOT GOOD. I'm trying to focus on getting off, I do not need to be thinking, "Oh, god, is he putting his finger in my ass? What if his finger smells afterward?" It's just goddam distracting. The thing is, guys, women do not have prostates. So applying pressure to my arse doesn't feel the same for me as it does for you. Are you trying to tell me you want me to put my finger in yours when you're about to come? If so, then tell me by TELLING ME. I'll do it. No biggie. Don't tell me by sticking your finger in my pooper.
  
  Now, I know some women are into anal. You know what though? They're into it. They'll ask for it. Or, you can ask them for it, and they'll agree to it. Don't test the waters by trying to dipstick a test run. Among other things, if you shove your peter in my crapper, you then can't stick it in my vag. There are bacteria that live in the back door that should not go to the front (this is where the whole "front to back" thing comes from).
  
  Thank you.
• September 08, 2009
• 14:52

  More on staying friends with exes

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  A recent text conversation:
  
  
  
  "I'll be home at 7 lover."
  
  "I'm not your lover."
  
  "What?"
  
  "Check your outbox. You sent me a message clearly not intended for me."
  
  "Oh, sorry. Don't know how that happened."
  
  "Douche."
• September 03, 2009
• 20:31

  Dear Serial: I humped my friend's husband

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  Dear Serial,
  
  Apparently, a friend of mind just found out I f**ked her husband. Thing is, it only happened one time, and it was years and years ago. I mean, it happened more than 10 years ago. It happened before they even got together, it was before I even got together with my now husband. Now, we’re all really good friends and have been for years, but recently, she’s saying weird stuff like, “sometimes you just wish you didn’t know things” and just being kind of strange towards me.
  
  I told my husband about that pity-f**k years ago, he’s not upset. What should I say to my friend?
  
  Thanks,
  Married and not going there ever again

  
  
  
  
  Dear MANGTEA (that’s kind of funny, at first when I looked at that, I thought it said Mangenta, which would clearly be a hot new color in men’s wear, much more masculine than purple),
  
  Don’t say a thing. You did your duty and disclosed your long-forgotten pity f**k to your husband; it was pally over there’s job to tell HIS wife about any potentially-awkward f**ks, oh, I dunno, maybe before they got married? That is, of course, if he was going to tell her. There’s a certain point at which, if you haven’t mentioned it already, you should just let the f**k lie.
  
  Plus, what if you say something, and that’s not what she was talking about? Especially if he hasn’t told her? That conversation’s going to be fun. “Oh, you were talking about how you finally noticed that I dog-eared your grandmother’s copy of Gone With the Wind? Oh. Heh. Well nevermind all that about f**king your husband. Oh, and the “pity” thing? What did I mean by that? Well certainly did not mean that I’m more attractive than your husband or that he was super desperate in the period leading up to him getting with you. No. Not at all.”
  
  Leave it be, Mangenta.
  
  Love,
  
  Serial
  
  
  
  
  Got a question for Serial Monogamist? Want to tell her how full of s**t she is? Do it. We dare ya. Send your email to seriallymonogamous[at]gmail[dot]com.
• August 30, 2009
• 8:53

  Snuggiesutra

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  There's a chance you haven't heard of the abomination that is the Snuggie (I think half the haters out there secretly want one):
  
  
  
  And just for fun, and your edification, we'll include the popular parody video, too:
  
  
  
  Well thank the lord for the internet. Because some genius has created a new Web site, the Snuggiesutra. Because I just KNOW you were fresh out of ideas on how to integrate the Snuggie into your love life.
  
  Here's one position called The Tablecloth:
  
  
  
  "She lies on the table. He wears the Snuggie on his front while the bottom end covers her. It’s just not a holiday without stuffing."
• August 26, 2009
• 22:36

  If you're single, there's someting wrong with you

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  Katie Ett over at Unapologetically Mundane posted the following this week:
  
  

  “More to Love” is my favourite/most hated show on television right now. I was torn between it and “NYC Prep” on the first Tuesday night it aired, but after watching 20 fat women cry nonstop for an hour, I knew I made the right choice, and I’ve been making it every week since.
  
  I’m not a person who believes weight has anything to do with love. I’m not thin, and I’ve loved and been loved in return by all sorts of men, thin and not-thin themselves. (But mostly thin, because fat people are gross. (Kidding.)) These big-boned ladies all truly believe, though, that their one shot at love is this 26-year-old spike-haired real estate developer who likes to eat and doesn’t want a woman who watches her weight.
  
  And they all cry about it throughout every episode. Their skinny friends get hit on at bars. They’ve never had serious boyfriends. They’ve never been on a single date. And there’s a reason for that.
  
  If you’re single–if you’re perpetually single–and you don’t want to be, there’s something wrong with you. There, I said it. Don’t blame it on men being superficial. Blame it on you being a crappy date. Unless you live in the middle of smalltown Iowa, in which case I’m a little more sympathetic, but seriously, it’s probably still your fault, especially if you’re one of those assholes who scorns Internet dating. Whenever I hear some fat chick say, “I have no idea why I’m alone!”, I want to go through a laundry list for her, because it’s always so obvious. Even the guys who are willing to look past your weight can’t deal with your jacked-up face, your total lack of humor, your junior high vocabulary, and your skank clothes.
  
  For instance, not a single one of the women in the two episodes of “More to Love” I’ve watched has said something funny. In fact, when Luke asks each of them in turn if they’ll wear the ring that signifies their staying on the show another week, each of them in turn says, “Of course.” I’ve been waiting for even just one of them to say “bitch, please” or fake like they don’t want it only to throw their arms around him and snatch it out of his hands a second later, but they’re all so worried about losing their “one” chance for “true” love that all behave like robots. Whiny, sobbing robots.
  
  My boyfriend called the show depressing, but I really delight in watching these pathetic women mope around. None of them are actually the least bit interested in this guy specifically, as far as I can tell, and are only interested in him being interested in them. And he’s too pleased with the opportunity to grope 20 fatties to care. I mean, MAYBE the producers are hiding the parts where Luke and the ladies have deep, meaningful conversation about politics and religion, but it seems like the most intimate information the group has about Luke is the name of his dog.
  
  I had a long-distance relationship like this once: the guy would want to talk about how interested he was in the sinking of the Titanic every single time he called me–I mean, he really, really loved the Titanic–and I just wanted to talk about how in love we were. But I realized I was using him, whereas these girls are planning their weddings.
  
  And the worst part is that they make absolutely none of this secret to him. They tell him that they’d pursue their music careers if only they had better images. They tell him that they’re virgins. They tell him, “You’re my first second date.” And he uses these confidings as teachable moments where he gets to build their self-confidence by calling them sexy and telling them to believe in themselves. And they cry.
  
  It’s pretty clear that in the end, Luke’s going to pick the thinnest/prettiest girl in the house regardless of her personality, and all the other girls who were using his choosing her as sole proof that there’s hope for fat girls are going to kill themselves.
  
  I finally asked my boyfriend why I’ve been able to find love when these women haven’t, and he said, “Because you’re not psychotic.” Win.
  
  

  
  
  Did you catch that part, beloved DIW readers, about perpetually single folk? It bears repeating: "If you’re single–if you’re perpetually single–and you don’t want to be, there’s something wrong with you."
  
  That's what Katie thinks. What about you, is there something wrong with perpetually single folk?
• August 24, 2009
• 8:21

  More on being friends with exes

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  "The girls who work with my new girlfriend said you walked by the other day and were glaring at her."
  
  "The girls who work with your new girlfriend know who I am?"
  
  "I guess so."
  
  "Huh. Why would I do that? That's stupid."
  
  "I know."
  
  "Did you tell them that I wasn't glaring, that that's just what my face looks like?"
  
  "Yeah, I told her you just have sort of a scowely face."
  
  "Thanks, dude."
• August 21, 2009
• 8:25

  Boobies

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  *** Editor's note: Alecia in North Carolina's a rare breed on Datingisweird.com, a guest blogger unafraid to use her real name. Take that, Anonymous! ***
  
  So I met this guy online. We'll call him Idiot. Idiot and I spoke for a couple weeks via email, IM, phone calls and text. He seemed like a really nice guy and we had a lot of common interests. He lives about an hour away so getting together for coffee wasn't as easy as all that, but eventually we did make plans for a Friday night.
  
  So, I get all dolled up. Black pants, sexy tank top, little make up, little perfume, I'm good to go. I waited for him to arrive with excitement and just a touch of nervousness, but I honestly just knew we were going to have a good time. Idiot arrives and gets out of the car to shake my hand and say hi. I hop in and first things first, we have to make a quick trip to Target because apparently he needed to get his nephew some birthday present. We're on our way and literally, about a whole 2 minutes into the ride Idiot looks over at me and says, "Your boobies look nice."
  
  I'm sorry...uuhhh...what? My inner thoughts: "You're 29 years old and you still say boobies? And secondly, what the f**k dude?"
  
  I didn't actually say these things; I just told him to shut up. Idiot laughs, "Okay, okay, sorry." So I thought to myself, oh he just had a dumb guy moment. We get to the store and everything is good. I move on, I forget for a bit that he mentioned my tits and referred to them as boobies. We arrive at dinner and Idiot orders a mass amount of food which I find not only disturbing, but also hilarious as he just got done telling me how "healthy" he was trying to be. Umm, yeah, when you order the salad, it actually stops being good for you when you pile a half a pound of cheese on it, and bacon, and chicken, croutons and a half gallon of ranch dressing. (no, I don't care that the bottle says "Light" - you're retarded) Anyway...as we sit there and I begin to munch, him shovel, I notice that Idiot's leering at me; staring at me in this very intrusive way that has me tugging at my shirt again.
  
  Finally I look at him and I say, "What? Why the crap are you staring at me like that?"
  Idiot: "You know, it's funny...out of all the girls I've dated, you're not all my type, HOWEVER, I kinda wanna do you right now."
  My inner thoughts: "Do me? Did he really just tell me over my Greek salad that he wants to DO me? Awesome." The people at the table next to us gasped and choked. I felt their pain.
  
  Me: "Can you bring me home now? No, like...right now. Stop eating, check, car. Let's go."
• August 18, 2009
• 15:02

  Signs

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  ***Editor's note: Today's guest post is from Peaches. Thanks, Peaches! ***
  
  You’re not sure he’s going to come over tonight, but just in case, you wait to wash off your make-up until just before you go to bed, and then fall asleep with your phone on your bedside table.
  
  You find a shirt of his at your place. It’s dirty and sweaty, and you smell it. The smell is intoxicating.
  
  You avoid meeting other perfectly cute, perfectly single and perfectly available people.
  
  You send an anonymous post to Datingisweird.com, hoping he’ll read it, and leave her.
• August 17, 2009
• 9:22

  Chas

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  *** Editor's note: Today's guest post comes in from Louise. Thanks Louise! ***
  
  Met Chas one summer in Moab, when I worked as a seasonal ranger in Canyonlands National Park. Ran into him at the Laundromat in town, exchanged stories, contact info. His claim to fame was that he had served as the body double for Brad Pitt during the filming of Thelma and Louise many years before. Now he was in his late thirties and beginning to show wear and tear at the edges. I was much younger.
  
  
  He did in fact look remarkably like Brad Pitt in profile. Even from the front, except when he smiled - his face crinkled all the wrong ways. The weathered face and neck of someone who had stayed too long on the windy high plateau.
  
  
  Soon after, he turned up at the Park just as I was getting off work. What I remember most was his cringe-inducing comment as we hiked the river path. "The park is so “sensual,” he enthused, "can't you just feel it." Later in the evening, more memorable moments. First, he assured me that he had recently been tested, undergone a health exam. Just a week ago as luck would have it, and he was STD free. Then he whipped out the paper work to confirm it. Just happened to have it on him. All the markings of a clinic certificate generated on a home computer.
  
  
  Months later, curiosity kicked in. Rented Thelma and Louise CD to check out the Brad body-double bit parts to see if it was Chas. Only definitive shot was a headless camera sweep of Brad’s abdominal area in the motel scene with Thelma. Awesome abs, but prolly not Chas.
• August 14, 2009
• 13:56

  What would you do?

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  I recently woke to find a Canadian in my bed.
  
  I’d met him the night previous, his name was Gus, and he was in town for some Ironman or something or other, and he was delighted to come home with me. After some rolling around, I went to the bathroom to freshen up, I washed my face just as mama always told me to do, and I brushed my teeth. But there’s a problem with brushing your teeth when you have a stranger you met at a bar in your bed.When you get back to bed, and Gus wants to kiss? No, thanks. I mean, his mouth tasted like Jim Beam and porter, and I think a few cigarettes. Oh, yeah, and we’d split an order of onion rings. Yikes.
  
  Sorry, I digress.
  
  The point of this story is the following morning. I woke up and looked over at him and all I wanted was for him to go the f**k away. It was a Tuesday, for s**t’s sake. I had to work, I had an early morning appointment.
  
  I wasn’t sure how to get rid of him, and looking back, I don’t think I picked the most graceful method. I got up without the morning snuggle he seemed to be leaning in for, I let out my cat, and I plopped myself down at my desk and started IMing my girlfriend, who was already at work.
  
  (bing)
  Jesus, I have some Canadian guy here, how do I get rid of him?
  
  (bing)
  Canadian? Is he hot?
  
  (bing)
  He’s OK. Beside the point. I want him gone. What do I do?
  
  (bing)
  What’s his name?
  
  (bing)
  Um, Gus, I think?
  
  (bing)
  Did he go down on you?
  
  (bing)
  Focus, dammit! How do I get rid of him? And yes, he did.
  
  Of course, the sound of clacking and binging in the living room was all the cue he needed. He came out of my room dressed, asked directions back to his hotel, thanked me for the good time and got out of there.
  
  So I was wondering, DIW folks. What do you do to get a one-night-stand to leave in the morning?
• August 10, 2009
• 14:04

  Funny like I'm a clown, I amuse you?

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  I like funny guys. Silly funny, irreverent funny, sarcastic funny, dry funny—whatever. If you can get me to laugh, you might have a good shot.
  
  However. Jokes can be tricky.
  
  Funny: Starting up a game of truth or dare on the first date, especially if you take my dare to borrow a cowboy hat from a dude at the end of the bar and wear said hat wile you dance a jaunty jig for me.
  
  Less funny: You take a truth, and when I ask where you want to be in five years, you answer “I think we’ll be married, and at least have two kids. Three maybe?”
  
  Funny: You meet my dog, who’s usually an asshole, and she’s nice to you. When I tell you I’m surprised, you shrug and say, “Kids, dogs and gay guys all love me. I don’t know what it is.”
  
  Less funny: You tell me, while lingering at my doorway at the end of the evening, that I “feel like home.”
  
  Funny: You text me the next morning to ask how I’m feeling, and I admit I must have hit the gin a little too hard, because I have a wee headache. You respond, “Oh, sorry, I guess I got a little aggressive with the roofies.”
  
  Not funny: When we have coffee later, and I tell you that I really, really, don’t think we should date, at least not until your divorce is final, or, at least until you and your wife are no longer living together, you tell me multiple times that I’m “breaking your heart.” Um, we met yesterday.
  
  Waaay not funny: At the same coffee/letdown date, you start to tell a story, then pause and say, “No, that’s a really good story. I only tell that one in exchange for sexual favors.” I respond, “Well, I guess I won’t be hearing it then.” You respond, “Really? No? S**t. There goes my plan for getting you pregnant right away.”
• August 05, 2009
• 7:39

  PBR and AC/DC really is the way to a girl's heart

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  Today's guest post comes in from T-bird. Thanks, T-bird.
  
  
  
  After a night of drinks and dancing that had gone nowhere I was standing outside of the club having a smoke. Up walks a pretty blond woman looking at her cell phone, talking to herself.
  "Standing by the car?!" she proclaimed "What do you mean standing by the car?!"
  I felt the need to join into this conversation and added my thoughts. "No cars here... maybe around back? There are plenty of cars over there."
  "No, She's in the bar. Stupid T-9 texting bulls**t."
  "I've watched it kill relationships before," I said truthfully.
  "Me, too. Want to grab a beer?" She asked and I was shocked. I had just come out of a failed seven plus year relationship and wasn't sure how to handle being single again. I honestly got a little scared and took the fastest, safest approach I could think of.
  "Sure, but I'm on my way to this kegger and need to hurry so if you want to give me a call later," I handed her a crisp new business card. "There is probably plenty to drink if you want to save yourself some money. Bring your friend too." As soon as I said it I gave myself a mental ass chewing. Three is a crowd you dumbass.
  About five minutes later she calls and her and her friend are on their way to meet me at this party. Now the party was real but had been going on for hours and it was late. I was fairly sure that it would be over or at least out of beer but I hadn't really thought about that at the time. We get there and sure enough its over, there is no beer and pretty much everywhere else is closed at that point.
  "I've got a sixer of PBR in my fridge if you ladies still want that beer," I offered thinking that there is no way that these two woman would go home with a stranger for a PBR and two oclock in the morning. I was wrong. Not only did they want to come over they were very excited about it. I couldnt remember if I even had a full sixer in the fridge or what state my house was even in.
  We get there and the friend immidiately starts riffleing through the cd collection and pulls out some AC/DC, put it on and turns it up... loud. Luckily I did have a sixer and pass out the beers taking survey of my house. I quickely pick up some dirty clothes in my room and throw them into my walkin closet. There are a lot of dirty clothes in my walkin, some smelly.
  "Take me on a tour," Cute Blond asks and procceeds to take herself on said tour.
  I catch up to her standing in my closet.
  "You have horrible fashion. I just want to go in here and throw all these clothes away," Blond says and she is serious. You can see it in her eyes.
  "Whoa, whoa, whoa," says I. "I do not, I rather like my clothes and new ones aren't cheap."
  She start pawing through what is hanging up, bad mouthing every one of my favorite shirts. I step into the closet to make sure that she doesn't just start tearing them to pieces. Just then she turns around.
  "You're cute," Blond whispers as she starts to pull off my belt buckle. I am at a loss. Maybe its because this is all so new to me or that I'm a little drunk but all I can seem to think about is that we are standing on and over every bit of dirty clothes from over a week.
  Before I really knew what had happened we had done the nasty over my hamper full of socks. As soon as it was over she quickly said goodbye, woke her friend who had fallen asleep on my couch and left. I turned off the AC/DC that was still blaring and started a load of laundry.
• July 30, 2009
• 13:59

  Handy chart

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  
  Thanks, interwebs, for this handy chart. Good thing to keep in the ole nightstand.
• July 28, 2009
• 22:25

  A day in Jami's Dating World.

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  We're not sure who Jami is, but this guest post suggest that while she may attract a-holes, she doesn't suffer them patiently. Enjoy.
  
  
  
  
  
  Holy F**king S**tballs.
  
  Let's do a little preface here.
  
  NEEDY GUY is, you guessed it, a little needy. He seems starved for attention. Spoiled even. He's a very attractive guy - so maybe he is used to women saying "yes" to him all the time.
  
  My life is not some empty hole with countless lonely days and nights. Sorry. I have wonderful friends who, for some reason, like to spend time with me on the weekends. I book up quickly - so uh, put your request in early.
  
  I have strict rules about going out during the week and I refuse to allow any guy into my home if they do not know my son. He does not need to see a new guy with mommy every 2 weeks.
  
  So, Needy Guy ....
  
  He wanted to take me out on a date. Great! Yes, I would love to go out. Problem is, he would wait and ask me on Friday night to go and do something ON Friday night. **Sigh** Sorry, I have plans already. Now, when I would tell him this his immediate response would be, "If you liked me, you would make time for me."
  
  I'm sorry, man, I don't know you and I will not cancel plans for you. You should've called me earlier in the week like any other person with any sense would have done.
  
  Then he asks to come to my home ... on a Wednesday afternoon. Sorry. No. I tell him my "rules." Oh, well, this in unacceptable to him. How can I be telling him "no"? Can he come over after my son is asleep? No.
  Can I break my rules this one time? No.
  
  I need you all to keep in mind that all of this "communication" is through TEXT MESSAGE. This guy had yet to call me.
  
  The last straw for me was about a month ago. He asked if I would like to go do something. I explain to him that this weekend is my weekend with my son, so no, I can't do anything. On the Saturday of that weekend he sends me a text, asking me what I was up to. I tell him that I'm at my friend’s house. He gets angry. He thought I couldn't do anything that weekend. I always make time for other people but not for him.
  
  Whoa. Whoa-day. Hun, I'm with my son. I'm not partying it up. I then go off on him telling him that he's too needy and seems to always want to argue and I'm not interested in drama queens. I also tell him to screw himself b/c he had yet to f**king call me.
  
  He disappears. Thank you baby Jesus.
  
  Then, about two weeks ago HE CALLS ME! What?! He does know how to use a phone. We have good conversation. He seems to understand the whole situation now. Great.
  
  He then asks if he could take me out. I was free Saturday, so I say "Yes." We decide that he'll pick me up around 7. Great.
  
  (Well, not really. I wasn't looking forward to it b/c he had started to show his "needy" qualities again....)
  
  He sends me a text around 4:30p on Saturday to tell me that he has to cancel because he has a funeral to go to the next day out of town.
  Yay!! I don't have to go through with this! I had an easy way out. I decide that I will make a trip to my grandmother's bar. Free tab.
  
  On my way to said bar and Needy Guy calls. "What are you doing tonight?"
  Me: Well, I'm on my way to [city where bar is located]
  NG: Oh, you going to that bar?
  Me: Yup.
  NG: Well, would you mind if I went meet you. I don't think I'm going to stay in [out of town location] tonight.
  Me: Uh, yeah, I guess. I don't mind.
  NG: Ok, cool, I'll be there in about an hour.
  Me: K.
  
  Two hours later he hasn't shown up. Now, keep in mind that I'm not really worried about it. I'm having a great time. I know 80% of the people at the bar and I'm enjoying myself. But, out of curiosity, I text him asking him if he decided not to come.
  
  He calls.
  
  NG: Hey, you still at the bar?
  Me: Yup, you not coming?
  NG: Yeah, I'll be there in a bit.
  
  :: we hang up ::
  
  One minute later he calls again
  
  NG: Hey, are you drunk? Buzzed? Or just feelin’ good?
  Me: Huh? I don't know ... I'm feeling good. I haven't drank enough to be drunk.
  NG: Oh ok. Well, you wanted to stay there or would you like to go back to my house and watch a movie?
  Me: Don't you live in [town very far away]?
  NG: Yeah
  Me: Uh, I don't feel comfortable going to your house...or [far away town] It's way out of my way. Why don't you want to come here?
  NG: That's f**ked up. You would rather hang out at a bar instead of hang out with me?
  Me: Well, it's not really that - I just don't want to go to all the way to your house. We can hang out here.
  
  ::Silence::
  
  I hang up.
  
  He calls back
  
  NG: I KNOW YOU JUST DID NOT HANG UP ON ME!!
  Me: Um, no. I thought I lost connection.
  NG: So, you're gonna stay there instead of hanging out with me?
  Me: Yeah. You cancelled. I made other plans.
  NG: That’s f**ked up.
  Me: [Needy Guy] look, I'm having a good time and you calling me acting like this is ruining it. I don't need some kind of guilt trip.
  NG: Why am I ruining it? Because you're a BITCH?! HUH? YOU F**KING BITCH!!!
  
  That's my cue to hang up. Psycho.
  
  He immediately sends this text:
  
  "U know what fuk u, u wanted to hangout in [TOWN] but now u dont, u are a fukin bitch"
  
  Wow, man did I mess this one up, huh? Some lucky girl out there will eventually land this winner.
  I'm so glad that I didn't go anywhere with this guy.... I would probably be shoved in some deep freezer by now...
• July 25, 2009
• 20:39

  On staying friends with exes

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  If you stay in touch with your ex, if you try to be friends, you still have to be careful. From time to time, in an otherwise friendly chat, you might find yourself having this conversation:
  
  “So, how was your weekend?” he asked.
  “Really fun, I hung out with [list of mutual friends].”
  “Oh, really? It was fun?”
  “Yeah, [male mutual friend] cracked me up all day long.”
  “Huh, you and [said male mutual friend] get along now?”
  “Um, yeah. When didn’t we?”
  “Oh, well he talked some serious s**t when we broke up.”
  “He did, eh. Really? Like what?”
  “Oh, just what a f**king bitch you were all the time. I was all, ‘Whatever. I don’t care what you think.’”
  “Huh. Awesome. Thanks for sharing.”
• July 21, 2009
• 20:03

  Homeo and Juliet

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  Juliet sent us this snippet of an IM chat between herself and her husband. Names have been changed to protect their identities. Being married really is a little weird.
  
  
  
  9:36 AM: Homeo: Hello
  

  9:45 AM Juliet: Hola!

  
  9:49 AM Homeo: How is your morning?
  

  9:56 AM Juliet: Great! How's yours?

  
  10:02 AM Homeo: Good. - I have my pedicure today at 3:30. Can you get the boys, or I can get them after
  

  10:02 AM Juliet: Whatever. I'll pick them up.

  
  

  10:03 AM Juliet: Just so you know, you have to live with the results of using my waxing budget to pay for your pedicure.

  
  10:04 AM Homeo: Actually, it’s my pedi budget. I use my own money for the pedi, I don't touch your beauty budget including waxing, cuts and color. Also, if you consider how much money I saved over the last 8 months not having to get a haircut, I am totally in the black
  

  10:04 AM Juliet: whatever. Pedi whore.

  
  10:05 AM Homeo: Just cause I care about my feet. Not my problem you choose to have grungy feet.
  

  10:05 AM Juliet: FU! My feet are not grungy.

  
  10:06 AM Homeo: How about scaley?
  10:06 AM Homeo: Lizard like?
  

  10:07 AM Juliet: My feet are fine. I take very good care of them.

  
  10:07 AM Homeo: I know you do. You’re the one who called me a pedi whore. You started it!
  

  10:07 AM Juliet: Well, just know that if not for your pedi, I'd have a nice bush.

  
  10:08 AM Homeo: The two are mutually exclusive. Go take care of your bush, I don't care. I'm not asking you to pay for my pedi. This leaves you bush money
  

  10:09 AM Juliet: I guess I should say bush bucks.

  
  10:10 AM Homeo: I dare you to tell [REDACTED CO-WORKER] about this conversation
  

  10:11 AM Juliet: No way - plus he's not even here.

  
  

  10:11 AM Juliet: I'll tell [REDACTED CO-WORKER #2] though

  
  10:12 AM Homeo: I figured that. She'll think it’s funny - and probably take your side
  

  10:15 AM Juliet: Damn straight she'll take my side! There's only so much salon money to go around, my spendthrift friend, and you are wasting it on your toes when it could be used to maintain more important regions.
  

  
  10:16 AM Homeo: My feet are very important - I'm on them almost all day. Also, its not my fault you won't shave or try some home remedy that might cost less.
  

  10:16 AM Juliet: (stony silence)
  

  
  10:17 AM Homeo: I have to go [REDACTED VERB INDICATING PROFESSION]. I'll talk to you soon. Love ya.
• July 17, 2009
• 22:24

  Captain Squish

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  There are a few things I’ve done in my dating career that I really regret. But at least I try to learn from my mistakes.
  
  One night I was out at my local watering hole drinking solo. I do that sometimes, especially when I’m single. It’s the best way to meet men.
  
  So this sweet young thing starts talking to me, and he’s just adorable. He’s in a local band I’ve heard of, but never seen. I even know some of the people in the band, so we have tons to talk about. He’s very sweet, and five years younger than me.
  
  The night turns toward the morning, and we’re still chatting. His friends, including his ride, come and ask him if he’s ready to go, I can tell he’s hesitating, so I offer to give him a ride home if he wants to finish his beer. He eagerly accepts my offer.
  
  But here’s the thing: I’m having fun, but I’m really not DTF that night. Some nights you’re in it to win it, and some nights, not so much. This was not my night.
  
  So by the time the bar closes, when we get into my car, I tell him, “Look, I’m enjoying your company, and if you want to come to my place for a beer, that’s cool, but I’m not going to sleep with you.”
  
  He says he wants to come over, and he’s OK with the deal.
  
  So we go to my place, drink some beers, and make out a bit. It’s getting late, very late, and I’m getting drunk. Somehow, and I honestly don’t remember the details, we decide to go to bed. Again, I tell him he’s welcome to stay, but I’m not going to sleep with him. Oh, yes, fine, fine.
  
  I fall asleep.
  
  Some time later, I wake up, and I realize my hand is on his dick. He’s got my wrist, and he’s pushing my hand into his dick. His flaccid dick.
  
  “What the f**k?” I say, sitting up, “was that your dick?”
  
  “Well,” he said, “I mean, I was kind of expecting more.”
  
  I got up and turned on the light.
  
  “No. F**k no. You need to leave. Now.”
  
  He pouted while he got his s**t together.
  
  “Can you give me a ride?”
  
  “You’ve got to be f**king kidding me. You can walk.” I lived miles from his house, and I didn’t care.
  
  But you know what? I realized right away what an idiot I had been. I mean, seriously? Don’t let a 22-year-old boy sleep in your bed if you don’t plan on f**king him.
  
  But also, boys, don’t press a sleeping girl’s hand into your fleshy, soft penis. That’s just gross.
• July 15, 2009
• 22:23

  Dear Serial: Do not answer this question

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  Dear Serial,
  
  So, I’ve been trying on line dating out. I’ve met a couple of people, even in person, but nothing major has come of it. I tend to be pretty picky about who I meet. See, if I know it’s not going to work out before it even starts, I think, why bother? But there’s this one guy I can’t decide on.
  
  We’ve exchanged several emails, and even pics. But there are things that trouble me. He doesn’t have a job or a car, for one. He says he’s working on it. He isn’t really into the same things I am, he doesn’t like hiking, camping, biking, skiing. Those are my major passions. He is into music, and I like that, though. But his spelling and grammar are pretty terrible, and, worst of all, he has a three-year-old daughter half-time. I don’t have kids, and I don’t like them.
  
  The thing is, I’d probably just say no thanks, even though he’s good-looking, if it weren’t for one thing. He’s black. I’m white. I’ve never gotten with a black guy before, and I really want to.
  
  Does that make me a bad person?
  
  Signed,
  
  Just looking for a little jungle fever

  
  
  
  Dear Fever,
  
  I think so … but, you know, uhh … that doesn’t mean I think you shouldn’t go for it, not necessarily ... though, I’m not sure …
  
  Hooboy. This is a tough one; let me argue this out with myself.
  
  OK, so. You’re clearly objectifying this guy. And you’re doing it in a way that makes me feel icky, a way that brings to mind the long American history of sexual objectification of black men – women, too, for that matter. And that really makes the Liberal White Guilt alarm bells in my head start going off, loudly. With sirens and whooping bells and all that.
  
  But, I gotta say, isn’t objectification what we all do when we date? I mean, you weigh competing factors, and some of them are bound to be shallow. Is it OK to be an ass man? I think so. Is it OK to be into big titties? It has to be. Is it OK for me to have never dated someone shorter than me? Sorry, little dudes, you’re just not for me.
  
  So what if race is just one of your factors? You make it sound like this guy’s race is just one factor on your list.
  
  And yet. Is this something you’d be willing to admit to him? I think maybe the answer to that question gives up a bit about whether or not it’s OK. I mean, if a guy I’m dating tells me he thinks I’m attractive, that he just loves my, oh, I dunno, my long legs (hey, this is the internet, I can be who I want to. ), is that going to bother me? Nope. If he loves red hair and green eyes, and that’s what I’m packing, I think: Sweet! If he loves my porcelain skin, is that too much of a stretch? No. (Though if he loves my pure Aryan blood, we’re getting back to danger category) But no one deserves to be condescended to.
  
  And, doi, race is so much more than physical characteristics. It’s about culture, too. Sometimes culture’s a factor, and rightly so. I mean, I’ve been drawn to dudes because they were from Texas, or loved the fact that their mothers were English professors. Maybe you’re looking to widen your horizons. But that’s not the impression I get from the way you put the question.
  
  In fact, looking at your question more closely, I see that you didn’t ask me if you should go out with him. You asked if it made you a bad person that you wanted to. And in that distinction, I see the opportunity for a cop-out. The question you posed is this: Are you a bad person for wanting to get with a black guy?
  
  At this point, I think I’ve talked myself into a corner: No, not necessarily.
  
  But the question you didn’t ask was whether or not you would be a bad person if you only got with this guy because he’s black.
  
  Thank you for not asking me that.
  
  In conclusion, let me just say this:
  
  
  
  
  
  How Heath Lost His One Black Friend - watch more funny videos
  
  Love,
  Serial
  
  
  
  
  Got a question for Serial Monogamist? Email it to seriallymonogamous[at]gmail[dot]com
• July 13, 2009
• 0:26

  A Note on International Dating & Sex

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  I'm currently traveling for the summer. I'm in the south of France at the moment but spent a longish weekend in England before arriving. I'm in no way an expert on anything, much less dating, but here are some observations so far:
  
  1. Sluts dress the same whether you're in Wauwatosa, Wisconsin or Marseille, France. You can spot 'em a block away. Way too much skin showing, bold colors that foreshadow the fruity drinks she's probably going to vomit later, and a slight wobble when she walks because the high heels are far too big. There must be a Sluts 'R Us store that no one informed me of.
  
  2. If you don't look like the woman above and a guy wants to hit on you, he has to be cool about it. Or so he thinks. Here's some lines so far:
  
  a. You should come and live in Marseille. You can work for me, help me with the other guests. It's good. I'm not hitting on you. You're like a sister to me. You live here and we'll have a good time. You and me. You're very beautiful. Like a sister.
  
  He said this while stroking my upper arm. I about barfed on him, but luckily another guest came in and I jumped up to offer my seat.
  
  b. I love Americans. I am not like the other French people. They hate you. Not me. I love you. You should come home with me. I will show you why the French are the best lovers.
  
  Two points for boldness. Negative eight million for creepiness, bad teeth, obvious signs of STDs, too much cologne, etc. al.
  
  3. French teens are sexually advanced. And open about it. I was sitting at the beach, waiting for some other travelers whom I had come with, when a pqck of 11 - 13 year olds approached. We chatted for a bit and one of the other travelers arrived. We continued talking to them, but the conversation turned immediately to sex. They asked us if we were dating, if we had kissed, if we'd done it, etc. al. They then began to insist that he and I kiss in front of them. It got to the point where several were shouting at us to kiss.
  
  One boy finally said, Why don't you take her home and just f**k her already? Thankfully I didn't know until my friend told me later. I wouldn't have second guessed slapping that kid upside the head.
  
  
  I leave for Senegal and Mali at the end of the month. I'll post some observations from there. Hopefully they don't involve me drinking too much in a Muslim country and getting thrown in jail.
• July 09, 2009
• 16:53

  My Worst Date Ever™

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  Click here for a bit about another lovely internet date. What, you don't like racist, sexist, drunken cheapskate dates?
  
  "I caught sight of my date, across the room, opening his leather jacket, taking out a bottle of Malibu rum and chugging from it. Stunned, I watched him return to his seat empty-handed. "They're out of beer," he announced."
• July 05, 2009
• 13:27

  Modern Girl's Guide to Being Dumped

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  If it’s been awhile since you've been dumped, ladies, here's a warning: A few things have changed, but others have stayed exactly, excruciatingly, the same. Here’s a short to-do list to get you started:
  
  • Wipe away literal tears.
  
  • Pull up metaphorical britches.
  
  • Apologize for that text you shouldn’t have sent.
  
  • Dust off your dating blogger pen.
  
  • Change facebook relationship status from “In a relationship” to “single.” You can leave it blank for awhile, but why? Embrace it. You’re single.
  
  • Update your Netflix queue. You don’t need to get his action movies, or the first season of Flight of the Conchords, which you’ve already seen but just rented so you could show him how awesome it is. Pick out every girly-ass movie you wanted to watch but had to bargain for. Been longing to finish watching Sex in the City? Fancy some cheesy musicals? Go for it.
  
  • Get his s**t out of your house. All of it. And don’t use the exchange of stuff as an excuse to “see how he’s doing.” He’s probably fine; or at least better than you are.
  
  • Re-program your speed dial. It’s hard enough to avoid drunk-dialing. You don’t want to do it by an honest mistake.
  
  • Send in a couple of the meanest things you want to say to dearoldlove.com. Don’t cc him on the email.
  
  • Buy more wine.
  
  • Find yourself a hot tub.
  
  • Work out like mad.
  
  • Rebound. Rebound early, rebound hard, rebound often. (With someone in his band, if you can pull it off, if not, someone who plays a different instrument will do).
  
  What am I missing, dear readers? Or for the fells, what’s the same/different when it comes to your “dumpee” list?
• June 29, 2009
• 6:30

  WTF guy

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  Today's guest post comes in from V, who first posted it on her blog, *uncorked. Thanks V!
  
  
  June 12, 2009
  
  a very awkward gmail chat to start my day. this is with a guy i went out with this past october. once. and now i kind of know why.
  
  9:03 AM
  him: hi, how it going?
  me: need more coffee…just got off a three hour conference call! ughhhh
  how are you?
  9:04 AM
  him: Ouch! just waking up on the first day of summer vacation
  me: oh so jealous
  9:05 AM
  him: i am not, i did a tad too much celebrating last night
  me: well, at least you get to relax today!
  him: hopefully but its loos nice out
  9:06 AM
  me: finally!
  him: yes
  9:07 AM
  did you really mean you think smoking is sexy?
  me: sometimes
  him: really? why
  9:08 AM
  me: cigars can be sexy – like just chilling out having a drink outside with a cigar. i love the smell
  him: wow, i thought i was the only one out there that thought this way
  9:09 AM
  me: nah
  him: wow crazy
  me: brb
  9:10 AM
  him: ok
  9:12 AM
  me: i agreed to babysit my nephew tomorrow night and my sister is giving me instructions now.
  9:13 AM
  him: instructions for what?
  9:14 AM
  me: he’s only 3 months old, i dont know how to take care of a baby
  him: oh gotcha
  9:15 AM
  so how was the confrence call?
  me: long and kind of obnoxious, but productive
  9:16 AM
  him: thats good
  9:17 AM
  so do you know others that have “fetishes” for smoking or am i the only one?
  9:18 AM
  me: i wouldn’t call it a fetish, but i know some people that feel the same way. not sure there’s a support group or anything, but there’s some.
  9:20 AM
  him: me either, just new to it. just thought i would ask you because i am sort of affraid to look it up on the internet
  9:22 AM
  me: internet smoking porn? is this what you have in store for summer?
  9:23 AM
  him: haha no. i didn’t even know there was such a thing
  me: i’m surethere is
  9:24 AM
  him: i wouldn’t doubt it
  9:25 AM
  are you into that sort of thing
  me: what sort of thing
  him: smoking porn
  9:26 AM
  me: not so much
  him: wait so you are a little bit
  9:27 AM
  me: no, i just think that some guys look hot relaxing and smoking a cigar.
  him: so you get turned on and one thing could lead to another
  9:28 AM
  me: I guess, but I wouldn’t say I would be looking up internet smoking porn or anything like that.
  9:29 AM
  him: i know i wouldn’t
  i am not a prev or sick like that
  me: ha, good ot know
  9:30 AM
  him: isn’t it
  me: well, i suppose its time i get some work done
  9:31 AM
  interesting conversation to start my day
  him: hope you don’t think i am weird.
  ok bye
  me: no, dont think you’re weird. have a good day – enjoy the weather!
  him: you too
  and yes, i think you’re f**king weird, but am afraid of becoming a lampshade so I’ll tell you otherwise.
  
  seriously, this all started purely because i mentioned that a guy, chilling out, relaxing on a summer night drinking a glass of wine, or having a beer and smoking a good cigar was hot. i love the smell of cigars (good ones). and this is what i get in return.
  
  An update came later:
  
  
  
  June 22, 2009
  
  
  him: hi, how are you?
  
  me: i’m ok, a bit tired from a good weekend, but just trying to stay in with the a/c cranked.
  him: yeah, it’s pretty gross out today.
  me: agreed.
  him: does it make you want to smoke?
  me: i have to go.
• June 24, 2009
• 12:36

  Online Dating Instant Translator

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  So, I'm looking through old documents, trying to finish some old article ideas I started, when I came across this old CL post--composed as a retort to some similar piece of crap designed to translate women's false descriptions of themselves on dating sites. Yeah, yeah, some men tell the truth on the sites. Maybe some do. But if they do, you can chalk it up to a twist of fate. And, yeah, women exaggerate a little on these things. But what's good for the goose . . ..
  
  
  Guide for Decoding Men's Personal Ads:
  
  42......................................................62.
  Adventurous...................................Unemployed.
  Athletic............................................Jock itch.
  Average looking..............................Weeping sores, chubby, toothless, etc.
  Thinning hair...................................Bald as a cue ball.
  Self-employed……...........................Unemployed.
  Handsome, I guess..........................I guess NOT.
  Centered, Buddhist.........................Right f**kin' nuts.
  Knows how to please a woman......Can't sustain an erection.
  Likes to please her first..................Can't sustain an erection.
  Spiritual............................................Can't get an erection.
  Likes petite women.........................Teeny-weeny wienie
  Wants to find true love....................Wants to get into your pants.
  Friendship first.................................Wants to get into your pants.
  Misses being married......................Still in love with his ex/wants to get into your pants.
  Nature lover.....................................Homeless/lives under an overpass.
  Stocky...............................................Beer belly/manboobs.
  Unconventional...............................Think giant silk undies and size 13 heels.
  Looks younger than he is...............Delusional and legally blind.
  Free thinker.....................................g-g-g-gay.
  Open-minded..................................Desperate.
  Outgoing...........................................Loud and Embarrassing.
  Good sense of humor......................Laughs at all his own jokes.
  Good businessman..........................Cheap as dirt.
  Professional......................................Unemployed lawyer (trust me).
  Big guy..............................................Tall and enormously fat.
  Large frame......................................Think Chris Farley's grandpa.
  Wants Soul mate..............................Stalker.
  Seen the world..................................You could be woman #763!!!
  Loves to travel..................................He's moving on in a hurry.
  Intellectual.........................................IQ just above room temperature.
  Separated...........................................Married.
  Divorced.............................................Separated.
  Single...................................................Involved
  5' 10"...................................................5' 7"
  6' 4".....................................................7' 2"
  5' 7".....................................................Leprechaun/Tattoo/Gary Coleman
• June 23, 2009
• 22:36

  Numbers

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  *** many thanks to c.vance for sending us this post ****
  
  
  this is a story of love in numbers.
  
  541 815.3504--- that's my number. used for a great many things.
  
  some women have it programmed into their phone because they know i'm the only one always awake at 03.00; ready with colorful slurs or flattering lies.
  
  some women have it programmed into their phone because they know i'm always awake between 02.00 and 04.00-- when the bars are closed and the only friends i have are cuddled next to people they love --and the flashing ring of my name lets them know no one has died, no one is in trouble... it's a displayed WARNING! HAZARDOUS IF OPENED on the screen of their flip phone. reminders of mistakes made and a lesson learned: never give your number to a drunk.
  
  some acquaintances have used it to ask for $500 bail and a ride out of the cop shop.
  
  some acquaintances have used it to ask for help moving because they fear the man they're moving away from--- standing by the door at 6'3" 200 lbs. to watch over her moving everything, staring down the X and not helping because of a hangover, a bad back and temper waiting for ignition.
  
  most often it is used by creditors asking for $1.000's i don't have.
  
  but, 3 weeks ago, it was used in a new way. it adorned the bottom of a flyer tacked to the middle of a bulletin board at PleasureWorld; a porn shop on 3rd street.
  
  the 1st call was a weekend night-- 02.14 --from a man who had a restricted number and a gruff voice; one of those voices that calls Craigslist adverts looking to buy $5 refrigerators to compliment the other 4 in his yard. either a redneck or a classically trained actor schooled enough to fool these ears bred from South Carolina stock and born in Prineville. called to say:
  
  -Yeah, I'm calling about the add you posted 2 days ago.
  
  -I didn't post an add 2 days ago. You have the wrong number.
  
  not given any thought until the 2nd call, 3 days later, at 16.14. a young man lisped sexual propositions into my phone. graphic; but with a trembling voice that sometimes squeaked. responded:
  
  -I'm flattered, sweetheart, but I think you dialed the wrong number.
  
  -Oh. Oh my Guh-a-od. Stho you din't postht that 1 add?
  
  -What 1 add?
  
  -Oh... I'm stho embarathed. Y'know, that 1 add? At PleaschthureWorld?
  
  -Nope. I don't know. What did that 1 add say?
  
  -Oh. Jezthus. I'm sthO sthorry. It... uhm. It sthaid, "20-sthomething man stheeking company. I'm diztheasthe free but you don't have to be." I'm sthorry, I thought---
  
  -That's funny. And explains the call I got 2 nights ago.
  
  -Oh. Did you... do you know hith number?
  
  that's where i hung up. dialed 411 where a Southern operator told me i had the wrong city and state for DisneyWorld and there were no listed amusement parks in the area. only after spelling it out and yelling:
  
  -It's a porn shop on 3rd street.
  
  did she transfer me to a computer telling me it would dial 5.4.1. 3.1.7.9.7.2.3. for an additional $382.13 or 4 Euros. a woman stopped the ringing by answering with the business name in a voice that made me hope she had good penmanship. said:
  
  -My phone number is 541 815.3504 and I believe someone posted an add down there as a prank. Maybe on a bulletin board?
  
  -Let me see. 3504. 3504. 35--- oh. Yes. Here it is. So, even though this is your number, you didn't post it?
  
  -Yep. Even though it is my number. Can you read it to me?
  
  -Sure. It says, "NEED DICK NOW!" That part is all capitalized. Then it says, "Neat, clean-cut mid-20's male seeks 8" black cock. White cock OK if larger. I'm disease free but you don't need to be. Call: (541) 815-3504." Then it says, "P.S. I'm a bottom." So, you didn't post it? Even though it is your number?
  
  -I did not post it. Even though it is my number.
  
  -Oh. Okay then. I'll take it down. Oh! You know what? I bet 1 of your friends did it! Y'know? To be funny?
  
  -I only have 2 friends and they're... hm. Of a different humor, let's say.
  
  -Oh. Then who would have had your number, then?
  
  this was a story of love in numbers. 541 815.3504 is mine. if you were kind enough to post an advert trying to find me sweet man loving, let me have your number to properly thank you
• June 21, 2009
• 19:45

  One night stand gone wrong

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  Most women have the occasional low self-esteem low points. Some women live in that space chronically; we call that having “daddy issues.” One of my worst low points wasn’t daddy related, it was wicked painful breakup related.
  
  I went out solo one night, just because I couldn’t stand to be at home alone another night. My cats were starting to look at me like, “Girl, get the f**k out of here, you’re depressing us, and we’re cats. We always mope.”
  
  So I was sitting alone at the bar, and in walks Chester. He looked vaguely familiar, and when he started talking to me, he told me why. Apparently he and I worked together, or at least for the same company. But we were in different departments, on different floors. We’d never met before, so we chatted for awhile, mostly about work.
  
  No point getting into the nitty gritties here, you guys know where this is going. I got drunk. We made out in the park, we went back to his place. We f**ked.
  
  The thing is, he had a nice body. Tall, lean, strong, and, well, nice machinery. So in the morning, when he felt randy again and my head was still swimming in Coors Light and Jaeger bombs, I let him go for it again, and he got me off, again.
  
  Then I looked around as morning filled the room, and memories started coming back to me. There, on the wall, was the picture of his daughter. She looked like maybe she had a touch of the down’s Syndrome. There, on the nightstand, was a photo of his girlfriend. She had Sally Jesse Rafael glasses. There, on another wall, was a poster: A wolf on a cliff, howling at a purple moon. And the thing is? I knew it wasn’t ironic.
  
  I remembered how, the night before, he kept calling me sweetheart and asking if I was OK, if I was comfortable. In my wastedness, I giggled at him and asked why, “Well when an angel falls into your lap, you have to do what you can to hold on.”
  
  As all this flooded back, all I could think was Oh, s**t. S**t. S**t. S**t.
  
  So then he rolls over and tries to go down on me, again, which, I admit, I have a hard time turning down, but as sobriety reared its ugly head, I just needed out. I pushed him off, told him I needed a ride home.
  
  “What’s wrong sweetheart? What happened?” he asked. I cringed when I looked over and saw his awful bowl cut. I remembered that he’d been wearing a Doors T-shirt last night. Tucked in.
  
  Jesus Christ.
  
  “I’m sorry, I just need to go,” I said, tearing around his room looking for clothes.
  
  We got in his El Camino (I am NOT making this s**t up). He drove me home. In the driveway, he paused, and seemed about ready to ask a question.
  
  “So,” I said, “I don’t think we need to, like, talk about this. And I really don’t need you to tell anyone at work.”
  
  “What, really? Just one night? That’s it?”
  
  I felt like I was the man. And what I wanted to say was: “One night stand, pal, what do you think that means?”
  
  What I said was: “Chester, you have a girlfriend.”
  
  He nodded, but then tried to tell me again that they were on the outs.
  
  “Nope, I’m sorry. I’ll see you around. Bye.”
  
  I still see him at work from time to time. In the parking lot, or in the hallway. I try to avert my eyes, or just say, “hello,” in the exact same tone I use with all the people I don’t know, but he always smiles brightly. Wistfully, even.
  
  I wonder if he’s told anyone sometimes. But then I think that even if he did, they probably wouldn’t believe him.
• June 18, 2009
• 10:03

  Vicarious sex

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  Not getting any, but have an active fantasy life? Or do you like the idea of porn, but think all that ACTUAL humping is a little freaky? Check out this hipster fad, AIR SEX competitions. It's exactly what it sounds like.
  
  This video is not work safe:
  
  
  
  I know a lot of our readers are Oregonians, so how lucky are we that Portland is hosting its very own Air Sex competition this Saturday night at Berbatis. Please go, take video, and send it our way. Because that shizz is hilarious.
• June 14, 2009
• 21:49

  Regarding Fatties

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  Dear Serial Monogamist,
  
  So, I've entered the wonderful world of internet dating (and yes, I know, I should submit something of my own to DIW and I will do so after having a few liaisons under my belt). Anyway, so far so blech. Not a lot out there on the interwebs, at least not on the sites I've visited.
  
  Anyway, I've gotten a few conversations going and then asked for a pic. Upon receipt of said pic, I've immediately been, like, "nope." I want to be really clear, and I'm not into lying, so in my next email I say "I just don't see it. Good luck to you." Since you're a member of the fairer sex, what do you think about how I'm responding? Yes, its entirely based on their uglyness, or extreme fat-itude, but oh well. I'm not just looking to date a nice person, I also want someone at least somewhat hot and I'm not going to pursue anything with people that aren't at least a 7 out of 10 on my personal scale.
  
  Thanks,
  
  Mr. Rodgers
  
  
  
  

  Dear Mr. Rodgers,
  
  OK, let’s start out with some linguistics.
  
  I think you would be well-advised to be careful about using terms like “the fairer sex.” You know, like, um, EVER.
  
  See, Fred, I know you’re not trying to get into my panties, at least not at the moment, but nonetheless, “The fairer sex?” I mean, when you use language like that, you’re likely to come off sounding like either:
  
  A) That jerkoff with a goatee who tries to sound all ironic all of the time but who really just ends up giving away in a sarcastic, “who really believes this garbage?” tone what it is that he really thinks of women, namely, that we’re hyper-sensitive, weak-willed, and prone to hysteria (which, if you’re dipping your hairy little toes in internet dating, you’re only MORE apt to believe)
  
  B) Some sort of renaissance fair guy who is, at this very moment, wearing crushed velvet pantaloons and drinking something you call “grog” that is really only apple cider mixed with Monarch rum, a guy who thinks it’s sexy to talk down to women so that it'll be this big f**king surprise later when you admit you just want to get tied up in a dungeon somewhere, but: Hey! It's no shocker! Your cat is named Azrael! We saw this one coming, dude.
  
  or C) Some guy who just trying his honest-to-joe-sixpack-best to make a throwaway joke.
  
  Even if the answer’s C, why’s it worth the risk of being seen as A or B? It’s not. I guess the moral of this particular rant is this, Freddie: Don’t talk down to me as an opener. Which, I guess, brings us on to the current topic.
  
  Don’t string the fatties and the uggies along. There are dudes out there who can, and will, love some bigole chubba rolls and even a brilliant goddess with a cleft palate.
  
  But: It ain’t you, babe. If you really feel bad about telling them off just after you get the photo, then try to get one more email with content out of them, and then suggest it’s something in that email that turned you off their fatty-ugg-ass-scent.
  
  She’ll know anyway. But why put you both through the awkwardness of the in-person meetup before turning them down for being such hags? It’s painful, it’s pointless. Let their humiliation be electronic.
  
  You also never said whether or not you were attractive. Maybe all you have to do is send a pic of yourself back to the ug-trons. Maybe then you’ll be the one getting the “yeah, I don’t see it, good luck,” e-mails.
  
  Stranger things have happened in this neighborhood.
  
  Love,
  Serial

  
  
  
  
  Got a question for Serial Monogamist? Just want to tell her to shut the crap up? E-mail her at seriallymonogamous[at]gmail[dot]com.
  
  Or not. Who needs you?
• June 09, 2009
• 13:28

  The new cyber-bullying

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  I'm having mixed feelings about Craigslist lately. I mean, is anyone on Craigslist NOT a murderer anymore? Do not click these links if you're emotionally sensitive (or pregnant), but: Exhibit A. Exhibit B.
  
  But then something comes along that reminds me that Craigslist has a higher calling. Like writing up fake craigslist ads making fun of people you don't like.
  
  Like this. A quote:
  
  

  
  
  "I'm looking for someone to be seen with. Basically.... I look amazing. You look amazing.
  We look amazing together. In public. We don't have to actually do anything behind closed doors and I would prefer if we didn't.
  If cleanliness is next to godliness, celibacy is next to celebrity.
  
  1. If you use incorrect grammar, just keep your mouth closed. I don't want people to think you're just beauty. (We have to appear to be the total package)
  
  2. You must have had an addiction to one drug at one point in time. Bonus points for H.
  
  3. You must have f**ked at least two dozen guys that are 'in a band'. Singers count as two people and if we've already f**ked, I counted for twelve."
  
  

  
  
  It goes on from there. It's signed "xoxo Cadaver."
  
  So who do we think wrote this? Cadaver's ex-girlfriend? An anti-scenester? Or just some hater?
• June 05, 2009
• 8:49

  The Right Way to Apologize

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  
• June 04, 2009
• 8:37

  Taking Out The Trash

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  **Editors' Note: Today's guest post comes in from a gal who knows how to get 'er done. Er something.**
  
  Back in my 'hey day' I was a fun-loving girl looking for a good time. Now, I'm a fun-loving girl looking to get drunk and dance her ass off surrounded by people she knows once every two weeks.
  
  Yeah.
  
  Anyways, back when I was living in Akron, I had a studio apartment on the third floor of a building a couple blocks down from one of my hangouts. Being the 'artistic' type, I hated the fact that I had to lug my garbage down four flights of stairs on a VERY NARROW stairwell, and then walk half a block up to where the dumpsters for our building were. It was winter at this time.
  
  So of course there were about four big black hefty bags full of trash sitting in my extremely tiny kitchen. I couldn't even open the fridge. I didn't let that fact bother me, cause it was Saturday night and it was drinkin' and dancin' time.
  
  At the bar (this one was across town), I proceeded to get very drunk with some acquaintances. I notice, however, this very adorable Skater Boy giving me the eye while he plays pool in the back with his friend. He has sandy blond hair, nice lips, and looks really good in the jeans he was wearing.
  
  We eventually strike up a conversation although for the life of me I cannot remember who said what first. The night goes on, and I say I'm going to head home.
  
  Skater Boy- "Um, did you need some company?"
  
  Me- "Sure, but you have to do one thing for me. If you do that, you can stay the night."
  
  Skater Boy-"Anything!" (sigh, I wish I could hook them in like that nowadays!)
  
  Me- "You have to take all my garbage out."
  
  Skater Boy- "What?!?! You're joking."
  
  Me- "Nope. Deal or no deal."
  
  Cut to Skater Boy looking horribly disappointed when he not only saw how much garbage I had, but where he has to dump it.
  
  But he took that trash out in record time. And he got to stay the night.
• June 02, 2009
• 10:06

  Pillow Talk

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  It can be touchy to discuss the romantic entanglements of mutual friends. I tried to shut it down with a, "Well, I'm sure it's much more complicated than that." To which the new one replied, "It always is with girls."
  
  "Oh really? We're always the ones complicating things?" I asked. I think there was enough warning in my voice to signal that he was wading into danger territory.
  "Well, you're not so bad."
  "I'm not?"
  "No, you're pretty simple for a girl. That's why I'm so lucky."
  "I'm simple?"
  "Yeah, you're always all, 'What the f**k are you talking about?'"
  
  The thing is, I wasn't sure if being glad to hear such a thing made me a bad feminist or something.
  
  But more honestly, I'm just relieved that I still have him fooled.
• June 01, 2009
• 11:29

  Best Breakup Ever

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  
• May 28, 2009
• 10:17

  Economic recovery is on its way!

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  
  Nation's Girlfriends Unveil New Economic Plan: 'Let's Move In Together'
• May 27, 2009
• 10:13

  Unwanted Gifts from My Ex

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  I've received a recent spate of letters from an ex. They don't actually include anything written. The only way I can identify they are from him is by the ever changing return addresses, all of which include some pot reference or something similarly lame in the street name.
  
  The first one was a crushed penny with a stamp of the lady and the tramp. You know those machines where you put in a penny plus a few quarters and you get back a now worthless piece of currency? I wish I had thought of that business model. F**king brilliant.
  
  But lady and the tramp? What? Did I miss some romantic memory where we watched the Disney movie over a plate of spaghetti? I don't get it.
  
  The second was his driver's license, which actually has meaning in that he knows I collect other people's identification cards. Ok, that one gave me a small pang. Until I realized his driver's license photo looked a lot like his mugshot they showed on the news.. Yeah. Don't ask.
  
  The third letter was a bumper sticker from a bicycle shop in his home town. It said "Share the road with a cyclist" and had the shop's name and address. I like bikes, sure. I even ride them frequently. But I'm not a "cyclist" by any stretch of the definition. If it had been something about a motorcycle, maybe, but again, what?
  
  I was telling a friend about it over breakfast and he asked if I sent anything back. Thus far I've taken the silent approach but his question sparked an idea:
  
  Send him my hair that collects in the shower drain.
• May 26, 2009
• 8:50

  Sports Obsessions Are NOT Sexy Time

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  **Editors' Note: The same gal who sent us Where Were You in 1983? sent us this lovely bit about internet dating.**
  
  I was lonely and bored, and my ex had just changed his facebook to "in a relationship" with the stripper he dumped me for. So I decided to give internet dating a try. And thus the story of Sex Blanket, as I now refer to him when warning others against internet dating.
  
  SB seemed like a cool guy at first. Then it quickly became clear that his obsessive love of sports took up all the places in his personality where "intelligence" "humor" and "charm" should be. Then it became clear (from the multiple bumper stickers, posters and flags plastered all over his apartment, and lastly, enormous back tattoo of the school's logo) that he was a little TOO obsessed with his alma mater, a la Andy Bernard (Cornell) from The Office.
  
  I was unimpressed and disinterested, but said loneliness and boredom convinced me that sleeping with him was an okay decision to make. I won't go into detail about exactly how and why, but it was THE. WORST. EVER. and multiple times I had to close my eyes and imagine that I was someplace else so I didn't throw up. No exaggeration, it was awful. And very, very sweaty. Him, not me.
  
  Afterward, while I debated high-tailing it out of there and risking a DUI or trying to find a non-sweaty spot on the bed, he went to his closet and pulled out a blanket that was fuzzy on one side and kind of satin-y on the other.
  
  "Do you know what this is?" He asked, in the wannabe suave voice that had added to my nausea.
  
  "Um, no" I replied, terrified at what the answer might be.
  
  "It's a Sex Blanket... you put it down before or after you have sex so you don't have to sleep in the mess afterward"
  
  "Oh super" I replied, hoping to sweet jesus that the blanket had been washed since its last use, and wondering how the F this guy was having enough disgusting sweaty sex to necessitate a blanket of this kind.
  
  So tell me, DiW friends... are sex blankets for real? Are all blankets with one fuzzy side and one satin-y side intended for this purpose? I received one as a Christmas gift from a female friend a few years ago and use it as a throw for my couch...
  
  Anyway, SB and I haven't kept in touch since then, and so far all of my other internet dating prospects have produced similarly unappealing/creepy results. So for now I'm re-dating people from real life that I have dated in the past, cause at least I know what mistakes I'm making beforehand.
• May 22, 2009
• 21:13

  Inside jokes

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  This is kind of insider baseball, but maybe it'll amuse someone. This is a note to my best friend, one of the sexiest women on the planet:
  
  "So we were just having dinner with The New One's roommate (and his tiny son, Twain, who I think has a major crush on me), and the convo turned to exchange students. We talked about the Japanese kid who kept on saying, "Howdy partner" and the eastern european girl who cried when she had her first root beer float. Then I told them about the German kid who I was stoked to make out with until he asked me to "teach (him) the ways of the American woman," at which point I was all, "uhh ... way to ruin the makeout sesh, dude," and then I left and re-joined you and Noah in the party room.
  
  Then I admitted to the boys that it was, as far as I remember, the one time a dude we both wanted picked me over you. Finally, 15 years later, I got it.
  
  "Yeah. The f**king German kid picked the blonde with tits over the redheaded Jew. Go figure."
• May 20, 2009
• 9:18

  In praise of Monday night nookie

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  This note from "Old Married Hag" (she came up with that name, not me) came in as a response to my latest Dear Serial column.
  
  
  

  As Serial pointed out a few days ago, married life can be unkind to the old sex life. Kids, cooking, mortgages, soccer practice - who has the time for sex? Or the energy?
  
  Which is why marriages like mine descend into the deadly rut of Saturday-night sexcapades. Sure, we throw on a porno occasionally or bust out a dildo. But sex on Saturdays after the kids were in bed had taken on a distinctively dull feeling. Yawn, is it Saturday night again? OK, you get the KY.
  
  Which is why my new solution is so much fun: Monday night nookie!
  
  I know it seems like not such a groundbreaking notion, but Monday night nookie has freshened up my week considerably. Sex outside the humdrum routine of a 15-year-relationship adds a spice that's all to rare for those of us who are old enough to have voted for Clinton. And who knows what a day-of-the-week shakeup could lead to? This week, adding Monday sex also introduced a new location to the repertoire. Nothing like a carpet burn on the ass to remind you that sex is fun even when it's not in bed or on the couch.
  
  Getting out of the sex rut may also lead to other firsts: It's surprising how open to experimentation both of you will be if you just step outside the normal screwing 'schedule.'
  
  Dating may be weird, but marriage can be weirder. And hotter.
  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  
  Serial here. You got a question for me, dating (or, apparently marriage)-related? Or do you have feedback on my advice? C'mon. I know at least some of y'all think I'm full of s**t. E-mail me at seriallymonogamous[at]gmail[dot]com.
• May 18, 2009
• 21:49

  MySpace Sucks

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  I had forgotten all about the hellish side of MySpace until I was cleaning out my messages last night.
  
  Let me back up.
  
  Once upon a time long long ago in a living room of a house I used to live in, I drunkenly hooked up with a guy I knew from firefighting. We used to work together. He was my boss. Of sorts. He was also rather attractive and knew it. We both did. Of course there was sexual tension the whole summer fighting fires. Of course he had a girlfriend. Of course she hated me even though I'd been nothing but pleasant and respectful.
  
  Of course he didn't tell me they were still "on again off again dating" until the next morning.
  
  "Huh. Interesting. So is the switch on or off this morning?" I asked.
  
  "Uhhh. On. Yeah, on I guess. She would say on, so yeah. On," he replied.
  
  Awesome.
  
  Let me also back up to give some character development of this on-again-off-again girlfriend: She liked attention. She was loud. She was abrasive. She was attractive. She had a flair for drama. And if we had to go to blows, I might put my money on her and I don't often say that about other chicks.
  
  In short, don't f**k with her man.
  
  Which, I wouldn't have done had I known. But, he conveniently waited to tell until after the point of no return. F**ker.
  
  So back to last night's mailbox cleaning.
  
  I found the series of messages she sent in the weeks after. Oh boy. Here's a taste:
  
  "Subject: O.P.P.
  
  It has been brought to my attention that you had sex with the man who had been my partner for over four years. What's amusing is that he's been telling me for the last year that I'm gonna marry him and have his children. Fortunately for me, I learned (before making a big mistake) that I can't trust him.
  
  While I primarily blame him (after all, he was my boyfriend)I also find you guilty of serious misconduct. Apparently you haven't learned or just aren't grown up enough to realise that you don't go around f**king other people's boyfriends. I must be honest, I never liked or trusted you from the beginning. It's too bad (for me at least) that I was right about you.
  
  Let's face it, you wanted ___ from the beginning and I never tried to keep him from being your friend cause he always said he didn't find you the least bit attractive. Interesting how men can do that, screw woman they think aren't appealing. I guess one hole is as good as another if you're drunk enough and the lights are off so you don't have to see their face.
  
  If this message hurts you in any way, I can't say that I'm sorry because nothing could describe the pain that I feel. Maybe you are laughing as you read this, or maybe you could give a s**t; but on the chance that you have a shred of decency, I hope you take this to heart and realise the damage you have done. I would also take a moment to think about the fact that no bad deed goes unpunished, meaning that things have a way of coming back to you."
  
  So ok. I felt bad. I mean, she has a point. And she even cleverly put a Naughty By Nature reference in the subject line. I didn't respond however; instead, I forwarded her message along to her "man" and said that perhaps he should look into it. He created the f**king mess after all. I thought he should be the one to clean it up.
  
  But no. She didn't see it that way. Here's another:
  
  "I want you to delete him as a friend from your myspace and never call him again. If you don't want to comply, I will show up on your doorstep and we can talk about it in person."
  
  Show on my doorstep and talk about it in person? Um, no f**king way. F**k you. Show up at my doorstep bitch?! That would be a bad idea. For both of us. Remember how I said I might put my money on you if it came to blows, yeah, not on my f**king doorstep. Bring it.
  
  But again, I didn't respond. Simply forwarded it to her "man."
  
  Thankfully all that died away. I haven't spoken much to him since, though he did text me a few weeks ago saying he'd be in town.
  
  The best part? I found all the other messages from jilted girlfriends who felt it was my fault they were dating a s**thead. Thank you MySpace. Thank you for allowing stupid bitches to send me ridiculous threats and for saving them for years.
• May 17, 2009
• 15:12

  Dear Serial Monogamist: Time to get freaky?

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  Dear Serial Monogamist,
  
  Any recommendations for spicing up a lackluster sex life?
  
  Signed,
  A lady who thinks being married is weirder

  
  
  OK, Weirder, you didn’t give me much to go on. I mean, what have you tried? Role play? S&M? Pegging? Watching porn together? Sex toys? Dirty talk? Sex in public? New positions? Dress-up? Sex games? Threesomes? Stripteases? A little ass play? Have you been doing your Kegels?
  
  I kind of hope you haven’t tried all that, to be honest. Because I sometimes wonder how couples who start off with crazy rockstar monster sex deal once they get bored with THAT. “God, the sex swing and the midgets again? Snore.” What a nightmare.
  
  However, if you’ve been having mellow, vanilla sex with your hubby, then there’s a long list of things you can introduce that can make things seem new again. The internet is full of ideas.
  
  Of course, that advice assumes that you and your husband are willing to try. And that can be scary and weird. But you have to talk to your husband, and tell him that you’re not happy with the situation as it is and make sure he gets that it’s important that you guys fix the problem. Because it is important. Humping matters. And who knows, maybe there’s been something he’s been wanting to try that he was afraid to bring up. What if all you have to do is put on some high heels while you go at it, and suddenly he’s all wound up and the next thing you know you are, too?
  
  Don’t forget this, though: Being negative in the conversation won’t help. You don’t want him to feel like a loser who can’t get you off, because then what’s his motivation to work on finding your G spot? The whole thing needs to be fun. “It’s an adventure, honey! An adventure that leads to more sex!” Who’s going to say no to that? If he does, after you approach it in a positive way, if he’s still hesitant, you could always tell him that satisfied wives give more BJs.
  
  Love,
  
  Serial
  
  
  
  Got a dating question for Serial Monogamist? Let's hear it. Send it to seriallymonogamous[at]gmail[dot]com.
• May 15, 2009
• 9:22

  Quote of the day

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  I have a new pal who's just moved to town, and like many women in this situation who are regularly getting my own action, my mind immediately goes to who I can get into his pants. It just seems like the friendly thing to do. Plus, I think it reflects well on me as a friend and on my town if he starts getting some split-tail pronto.
  
  I was telling a girlfriend about him (accent, big purdy eyes, loves his mama), but knowing that she's been more apt to cuddle up to bear-ish guys, I warned her that new pal is "skinny-cute."
  
  "Well," she said, taking a deep breath and lifting her palms toward the sky, "I've f**ked a few skinny guys lately, and it hasn't killed me."
  
  Way to take one for the team, sister.
  
  
  
  
  ** Psst! You! You over there with the girlfriend who chews with her mouth open. Yeah, you. Or you, the guy who can't get past the third date and can't figure out why. Send your burning dating questions to seriallymonogamous[at]gmail[dot]com. Let me help you. Or tease you. You know you want it. **
• May 13, 2009
• 8:18

  The Joys of Online Dating: Part Deux

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  **Editors' Note: Today's guest post is the second installment from Kate in KC. You may remember her first story about getting into a fight about college sports on a first date from a few weeks ago.**
  
  Adorable Nerd came along and seemed as if he would be the answer to my holy-crap-this-was-a-bad-idea prayers. He was smart, funny, interesting, cute in that Seth Cohen (yes, I’m dropping an OC reference in here) super-nerd kind of way and, best of all, seemed very interested in me. We sent a few novel-length messages to one another before trading in email for 3-hour long phone calls. We would talk about anything and everything while staying up so late that we would practically fall asleep on the phone because neither of us wanted to hang up the phone and end the conversation…we finally arranged to meet one night.
  
  We sat at a table in a small restaurant and talked and talked and talked…we were telling stories, laughing and having a fantastic time. We ended up closing the restaurant down and he suggested that we continue the night at a wine bar across the street. Sharing a bottle of wine, there was never an awkward silence or dull moment…it was like we had known each other forever and slipped into conversation with one another like it was the easiest thing on earth.
  
  The end of the night rolled around and we strolled through the moonlight of the city streets until we got to my car. I had butterflies in my stomach as we turned to face each other to say good night…he told me that he had a wonderful time, looked deep into my eyes, leaned in…shook my hand and ran away.
  
  He literally RAN the f**k away.
  
  I never heard from him again.
  
  A weird-o, a closeted gay and a guy with sports-related Tourettes…strike one, two and three. You win this one, online dating.
• May 12, 2009
• 8:32

  Where Were You in 1983?

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  **Editors' Note: Today's guest post comes in from a gal who said she loves DIW. Glad someone is actually reading this trash..**
  
  I'm 23 and the guy I'm dating is 36. Despite the thirteen year age gap, we get along really well and have a lot in common... Aside from our memories associated with music from before about 2005.
  
  The other day we were playing cards and drinking wine at his place, and he had a 90s station playing on the satellite radio. A song came on from 1996, and I told him how it reminded me being at Girl Scout Camp in third grade. A look of horror came over his face as he realized that while I was selling cookies and earning my Brownie Try-It badges, he was 23 and divorcing his first wife.
  
  We switched the station to some current indie rock, and silently agreed not to tell stories from our childhood anymore.
• May 07, 2009
• 16:56

  More on internet dating

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  So Katie Ett, a woman whose blog I started reading only because her Livejournal user pic was a still from the original Grey Gardens, one of the best films of all time, writes about all matter of silliness over at Unapologetically Mundane. Topics range from piles of family pictures from back on the farm in Iowa to reviews of fancy schmancy pants restaurants in New York (which are generally funny because she clearly has a midwest palate, but she seems to try). Her main obsession, which she admits, is her boyfriend. Whom she calls Dr. Boyfriend. It's a tad out of hand (she has a "creepy boyfriend obsession" tag, people) but sort of charming, too.
  
  Here's a recent post from UM, which is amusing in itself:
  
  "I’m a member of the online dating site OkCupid.com in the hope that when Dr. Boyfriend and I break up some day, you’ll look me up on there and woo me hardcore. Due to the fact that I’m not supposed to appeal to anyone in my current state of relationshipness, I’ve agreed to not change my horrible photos and to fill my profile with totally unattractive drivel such as:
  
  

  Nobody’s really just looking for friends and activity partners on here, right? But I am! Seriously! And just think of all the activities we can engage in! That don’t in any way involve our genitals! Except, like, if we specifically decide to engage in genital-related non-sexual activities! Like by joining a nudist colony and shaving our genitals! Together! To get to know each other a little better! And to have the best-looking genitals in the entire colony!

  
  
  AND YET. I receive messages all of the time from men who make me feel sad for people who are actually looking for dates. Such as this one, from a user in his 50s:
  
  

  I used to live in Brookyn, in the Bushwick area. I thought I would write and get to know you. I notice you say about joining a nude club and shaving each other’s genitals. I would love to do that with you. Or at least to join a nude club together. I would love to smell your vagina too. I am sure it smells sweet!!

  
  
  I mean, thank you and all, but no. I think the rule should be that if you wouldn’t walk up to me in a bar and say it to my face, you shouldn’t say it online, either.
  
  And now you should tell me about the even awesomer messages you’ve received."
  
  OK, Serial again. Um, is it OK to leave your OKCupid or Match.com or whatever dating profiles up when you're in a relationship? I'd be seriously pissed if I found out that The New One had a dating profile up on one of those sites (Well, I would if I could get over the concept of The New One going near a the interwebs for such purposes, since he plans to be the last person on the planet to even join Facebook. Dude doesn't even read datingisweird.com, even when I tell him I write about him. On the internet. WTF?).
  
  And I don't feel like I'd want to negotiate on that point. But I guess it could be entertaining. As entertaining, as, say, writing up a craigslist personal about a friend of yours, just to see what the response might be ....
  

  
• May 06, 2009
• 8:37

  Friends With Benefits

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  **Editors' Note: Today's guest post comes in from our semi-regular guest, Terry Tucker.**
  
  This was an Internet date match-up. When I entered Starbuck’s I saw a man sitting at a table on the far side, wearing the jade-green, U-of-Oregon cap that so many men wear in these parts. Signs of French Canadian ancestry could be discerned in his fine, virile features. He had an oval-shaped head, dark eyes, olive complexion and sharply defined bone structure. His eyes held yours, though not in an unpleasant way.
  
  He spoke in a manner not quite like ours, an indeterminate accent all his own. His manner was calm and relaxed, and he spoke in a very picturesque way, without gesticulation. He paused occasionally, and you felt that each phrase was being carefully constructed in the moment, not at all like the mindless, ready-made jargon we normally use in conversation. You quickly grasped that he had a gift of assembling words expressively.
  
  It was unclear at first exactly what he did for a living; it hardly seemed to matter. He was well traveled and engaging, overflowing with zest. As it turned out, he was Algerian, not Canadian, with a French connection. He had a wide range of interest and something to say on every topic. To be with him was very agreeable
  
  Things were developing nicely, when he began talking about a Private Stock Offering he was putting together for the construction of a Wind Farm on a South Dakota Indian reservation. The first-round financing was fully subscribed to, he said, but a way could be found to include me and my friends, if there was interest. Sounded so good, the way he put it. Friends with benefits. Might have gone for it if the Bernie Madoff scam was not so fresh in the memory. Maybe if he had waited until the second date to make the pitch.
• May 04, 2009
• 20:43

  Keep It Casual

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  
• May 01, 2009
• 10:08

  Dear Serial Monogamist: Gettin' Some

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  Dear Serial Monogamist,
  
  What's the easiest way for a girl to get laid in this town?
  
  Sincerely,
  
  Tired-Of-Masturbating
  
  
  Dear TOM,
  
  I’ve believed for some time that nearly any woman who possesses at least average looks and charm can probably pull tail on any given night. I know a single gal or two, and I know that when they’re determined to bone down, they’re successful.
  
  But so much depends on you, darling. I mean, have you checked out all the options at work? Interns maybe? They’re usually pretty easy. Do you pass out your phone number indiscriminately to any male who glances your direction? I mean, you’ve gotta keep casting if you want to catch one.
  
  You know and I know that I can’t write you a recipe for action, but I wonder if you know the basic recipe for “getting laid.” (Which is, of course, a helluvalot different than the “meeting someone special” or “having good sex” recipe)
  
  1) Go out.
  2) Apply alcohol.
  3) Make eye contact with a target.
  4) Look away.
  5) Look back.
  6) Smile.
  
  Repeat until your target approaches.
  
  From there, it’s easy. Laugh at his jokes. Touch your hair, but not too much. Tease him. Drink more. One item that women sometimes make a mistake on: Don’t try to get him to buy you drinks, buy your own. This is about getting some nookie, not about getting free booze.
  
  At some point, hopefully after a spell of making out in the corner, all that’s left to do is offer to pour him a drink at your place. Do not pass go, and do not, for the love of tits, ask if he has a girlfriend (remember, kids, this is a “get laid” course, not a “be a good person” tutorial).
  
  I should say something about safety at this point, you know, carry a knife in your purse, have a fruitbowl of condoms on your nightstand at all times, have a safety “out” word if you play with S&M; but Jesus, I’m a dating blogger. I’m not your mother.
  
  One more tip. If June has taught us anything, it’s this: Fly solo. You’re less intimidating when you’re not surrounded by a flock of women. If you’re too afraid to go out alone, at least go to the bar alone when you get a refill.
  
  If all else fails, lower your standards. Ugly dudes, guys with one leg, guys wearing silk shirts, hell, they all need love. Grab a hold of a mullet and go to town. Imagine approaching a nerd and taking him home. He’d be so grateful. I won’t judge you.
  
  Haha, just kidding. You know I will. But I tease because I love.
  
  Got a question for the Serial Monogamist? Sure you do. E-mail it to seriallymonogamous@gmail.com
• April 30, 2009
• 8:35

  You'll Know Exactly What These Are

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  Oh. My. God. My newest time waster:
  
  www.TextsFromLastNight.com
  
  Sweet jesus. Here's some examples:
  
  (734): Pregnant stripper...not hot.
  
  (843): I guess there's a 50 percent chance that it was her that wet my bed.
  
  (859): im in a kiddie pool, high, with a keg in arms reach. If i had a sandwich and a blowjob this would be the best day ever
  
  (516): Dude, just walked by a homeless guy pissing on the sidewalk while he was screaming at his wang. God, I love this city.
  
  (714): I wish there was an iPhone app to help you with your s**tty personality.
  
  
  I can't stop reading.
• April 29, 2009
• 9:05

  Spring Break in Mexico

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  **Editors' Note: This guest post comes in from a buddy of ours named Kenny.**
  
  Several years ago while living in Arizona, my girlfriend, Betsy, and I decided to spend our spring break visiting Rocky Point in northern Mexico. Scarcely a twelve pack drive away, it was a popular destination for land-bound Arizonan's who wanted some beach time. We packed up and headed south, crossing the border just before midnight and arriving at the beach in the wee hours. We slept in the sand next to my trusty Honda Accord.
  
  The next morning we woke up and headed into town for supplies. It was already hot, so pounding a few beers on the way seemed appropriate. As did smoking a joint or two. We entered town and, with Betsy at the helm, were navigating towards the supermercado, beers already warming between our thighs.
  
  Familiar with the town, we moved qucikly along, windows down, stereo up, sipping beers -- until we stopped unexpectedly upon the bumper of the car in front of us as it waited patiently for a red light. As we peeled ourselves from the dash (carefree springbreakers, we dismissed the idea of seat belts) the large woman driving the car that was currently wedged beneath the hood of my Honda approached us, suggesting loudly in Spanish what amounted to her personal opinion on Gringos, spring break, drinking and driving, and godless heathens.
  
  Betsy, speaking no Spanish, remained mute and simply applied direct pressure to the cut trickling blood from her forehead. My limited command of the language was further compromised by the remainder of our weed that I was choking dryly down.
  
  Soon the cops showed up, and with very little ado, quickly confiscated my car and ordered us to report to the police station at nine the next morning. Considering ourselves lucky for leaving the scene without someone so much as smelling our beery breath, we split. And proceeded to party the rest of the day, and night away.
  
  The next day we hitch a ride with friends into town and, nursing hangovers, we arrive at city hall promptly at nine. Betsy, tough girl that she is, walks towards the front door while telling me nonchalantly over her shoulder that she's "got this under control, feel free to wait outside". Which I do. For like an hour and half.
  
  Finally, I go looking and enter a seemingly deserted police station, long halls extending in three directions. Somewhere a radio played tinny ranchero music.
  
  "Hola? Buenas Dias?" Nothing. "HOLA?" Still nothing.
  
  I wait.
  
  Eventually I make my way deeper into the building following a long hall with flickery florescent lights. I hear a metallic clicking and look down another hall to see a heavy door swinging shut. Just before it closes I spot Betsy, sweaty hair in her face, hands held before her gripping the bars of a jail cell, looking wide-eyed right at me.
  
  And then SLAM, the door shuts.
• April 27, 2009
• 9:15

  Get It On

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  
• April 23, 2009
• 16:59

  Dear Serial Monogamist

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  Hello interwebs.
  
  Not too long ago, a commenter accused me, THE Serial Monogamist, of trying to take over DIW with my giant ego. Really, I’m just so happy someone was paying attention to me. Thanks for caring. But I thought and thought about it; thought about me, re-read all of my old posts again and again, and realized that yes, Lucky, you’re right. It is all about me. Me and my ego.
  
  Funny thing, in addition to being egomaniacal, (and incredibly modest) I’m also a knowitall. And what do egomaniacal knowitalls just love to do? Give advice. This came in from a friend of a friend, and I couldn’t help myself.
  
  
  Dear Serial Monogamist,
  
  After how many days of unreturned phone calls should I write a guy off as a jerk?
  
  Sincerely,
  
  Miss Lonely Heart
  
  
  
  Dear Lonely,
  
  How many DAYS of unreturned phone calls? What the crap are you doing, lonely? Calling him day after day, leaving pathetic messages on his voice mail, and not hearing back? Or is this just one call, and then sitting around on your ass wondering when Mr. Wonderful is going to get around to thinking of you? Yikes.
  
  Here’s the thing: If he doesn’t call you back, you can’t really write him off. He’s written you off. Forget about it. What you need to do is pull up your big girl britches, give him the finger, and move on.
  
  But don’t be afraid to ask yourself why he didn’t call. Are you boring? Do you sit around waiting for awesome things to happen to you? Because that’s not really the way it works. I could be wrong (I think I was, like, once), but something about your question just reads “needy and boring.” Try being less of both. Go out and get an independent life. Take a drawing class. Learn a new hobby. Stop watching so much reality TV. Then maybe you won’t have to count days between phone calls.
  
  Love,
  
  Serial
  
  Got a dating question? Email me at seriallymonogamous@gmail.com
• 8:22

  A Friend of Mine Recently Lost His Mind

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  **Editors' Note: Today's guest post comes in from anonymous. But not the same anonymous who wrote about reading his girlfriend's email. We hope.**
  
  At least, that's what I thought when he abandoned a decade-plus relationship with a woman I admire and started playing house with his new, 19-year-old girlfriend.
  
  He's 35. A relatively normal guy. His long-time girlfriend was age-appropriate, lifestyle-appropriate and a good match for him, or so it seemed. Now she's starting over in the love department - a sad state for a woman in her mid-thirties who wants children but doesn't yet have any.
  
  Meanwhile he has a shiny new girlfriend, fresh out of her parents house and still driving her first car.
  
  When I first heard this, I got all hung up on the math: She was 4 years old when I met him; he was in high school when she was born; I have pubes older than she is.
  
  But now, I just worry.
  
  If this man can start over, can ditch his longtime girlfriend in favor of the flower of youth, what's to prevent my husband, or your boyfriend, from doing the same? This guy is not a player, or I never thought he was. But are all guys secretly players, just waiting for the chance to act on it?
• April 21, 2009
• 9:39

  Surreptitious Pleasures

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  **Editors' Note: Today's guest post comes in from Terry Tucker. And um, gross.**
  
  Friend of mine met this great guy….…..smart, good looking, fun - and thoughtful! When they were walking down the street, he would stop to pick up litter, even discarded cigarette butts.
  
  On subsequent dates, everything good…..although she did notice him sneaking surreptitiously outside for a cigarette. Trying to quit, he said, when asked about it. Later, when she noticed him picking up and pocketing a cigarette butt off the street, something clicked. You don’t smoke those, do you, she asked.
  
  He hesitated, then admitted he did. At first, he did it out of desperate addiction, he said. Better than buying cigarettes or bumming them. Then serendipity, he discovered smoking butts was more satisfying than regular cigarettes. Nicotine tends to accumulate on the paper at the lower end, resulting in a more concentrated delivery of nicotine when you inhale a pre-smoked butt. When you inhale, a tremendous rush. It’s wonderful, he enthused. And you get better and better at spotting the good ones.
  
  What about germs, she wanted to know. Oh, I wipe the cigarettes off first, he assured her. Hasn’t been a problem for me. They say that kissing a smoker is like licking an ashtray. This was worse than that.
• April 20, 2009
• 11:53

  Gay Marriage is Weird?

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  A story in the NYT tipped me off to this video, apparently a response to recent same sex marriage victories.
  
  
  
  But the online responses are so much better:
  
  
• April 17, 2009
• 8:41

  My Car is My Lover

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  
• April 16, 2009
• 9:17

  Her Skeletons in the Closet Aren't Dead

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  **Editors' Note: Today's guest post comes in from a guy who asked to be anonymous. Fair enough anon..**
  
  Just one really. He's definitely alive and kicking, sending her emails of his love. Emails full of s**t metaphors about that profoundly deep love of his. How do I know? Because I read them.
  
  I f**king read her email.
  
  Yep. I sunk that low and violated her trust and privacy.
  
  Worse?
  
  She feels that way for him. But also feels that way for me. She's even told him as much. But she's also told him that she shies away from looking at her feelings for him, doesn't want to look at her late night wondering if they'll ever be together. Has carnal dreams of him.
  
  I hate skeletons. Especially when they're still alive and sharing the bed with you and your new girlfriend.
  
  I hate that I read her email. That I didn't trust her enough. That I wasn't confident enough. That I found what I was looking for.
• April 14, 2009
• 11:08

  If I could erase a memory

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  My regular hookup, the ruddy-headed charmingly gap-toothed Mr. Bojangles, raised his head up from betwixt me thighs. I looked down with some surprise--I wasn't really expecting any sort of interruptus, even of the oral-coit-variety--to see an odd expression on his face. He fished his farmboy fingers into his mouth and pulled out a large, wet wad of blue lint.
  
  Dear god. Blue lint. From my blue slacks.
  
  Should have worn panties.
• April 09, 2009
• 15:39

  Ode to John Mellencamp

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  For five months I've been waiting for this bomb to drop in my new relationship.
  
  We both grew up in the same small town, though we've both since moved away. However, he's still friends with several of his old buddies. I happened to have a one night stand with one of them eons ago. I was never going to bring this up; my sexual past is not something I particularly enjoy discussing, and we're pretty happy to follow the "don't ask, don't tell" guidelines.
  
  I had some concerns about this other fellow, though. He's not known for his tact. Luckily they don't hang out too often though so I was just gonna keep my mouth shut. He was not so thoughtful.
  
  Over drinks the other night, Tactless made it known that he had, in fact, had relations with me in the past. When I first heard about this my stomach almost shot out my eyeballs. Obviously My Man doesn't think I'm the Virgin Mary but did he know I hit so close to home?
  
  My Man, the wonderful, caring guy that he is, informed me that he truly did not care about my past. Whew! I'm gonna go throw up now from relief.
  
  Then I started wondering to myself what other things his friend were telling him about me. They don't have the slightest clue what's happened in my life but for any of you who grew up in a small town, you know that people will run their mouths about others whether they know the whole situation or not.
  
  It took less than 3 minutes of conversation for me to be thrust back into my small town, without my even being there.
  
  So, DIWers, here's one for you. Should I be more proactive about letting him know that this might happen again with another person he knows? I have way more faith that this other person won't share, but I guess you never can tell. Why do I have to be worrying about stuff that happened almost 10 years ago?!
  
  I'll never go back to that small down. I won't die there. They won't bury me there. End of story.
• April 08, 2009
• 12:19

  Anthropormorphising

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  Yes, it's essential that your pet like your partner, and vice versa. I mean, Christ, look at this.
  
  I can't imagine how difficult it would be if my pooch hated The New One. Or if he wasn't patient with her overzealous love of him, or her overzealous protectiveness of me (used to great effect with a creepy drunk bum in the Rite Aid parking lot the other night ... he was asking for change and got a little too close for comfort, like close enough to smell, and all I had to do was crack my car door and the vicious attack dog foaming at the mouth got him to back right on up), or her general state of overzealousness, actually.
  
  But now we've discovered how to use our pets against each other, and hide our own feelings in text messages from our pets, i.e., "Puppy misses u terribly." (Psychoanalyze that one, that's like a twice removal of feelings or something, innit?)
  
  It could get ugly, though, right?
  
  "Well puppy thinks u smell bad."
  "Kitty sez puppy's a jerk who p's her pants."
  "Hey, puppy only p's her pants when she sees u bc she loves you."
  
  The passive-aggressive potential is delightful ....
  
  "Puppy h8s you and ate the ugly pants u left here."
  "Kitty took a s**t on the valNtine u made."
  "Oh noes! Kitty changed the locks on u!"
  "Goldfish wants u to f**k off n die."
  
  What would your pet text?
• April 06, 2009
• 7:07

  Craigslist Personal - Older and Fat

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  **Editors' Note: We couldn't make this s**t up.**
  
  Reply to: pers-75cz3-1085924688@craigslist.org [Errors when replying to ads?]
  Date: 2009-03-21, 5:01PM PDT
  
  Here you have a 46 yo 300# fat balding man, that has bad teeth, a job that bearly pays the bills and is a paycheck away from being kick out of a rented place to live.. I also have a son, thats still under 18, and hes my little guy that keeps me going.. I would like to find a sugar woman, that would like to be there for me when I am bored.. I love to cook, cuddle and give massages.. and of course have sex, I am not well endowed, but love the forplay, giving and receiving.. I have been looking for a soulmate for ages on many web sites, but once they know what I look like, I never hear from them again. I would love to be a one lady's man, but for right now I want the compainonship of someone.... I get very lonely in my king size bed... I not looking for any Barbie type, but would enjoy one. But thats dreaming, I do love to watch the young ladies that think they are God's gift to man, but I know that they are way out of my reach... If that ever happened I know that I would die in bed...(hopefully a happy man). So here I am just dreaming that someone is out there for me.....
  
  [bend.craigslist.org]
• April 02, 2009
• 8:33

  Damn Tubes

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  **Editors' Note: Slightly Disheveled sent this in after reading about June's burning biscuit. We've had many an embarrassing sexual mishap (bed wetting, farting, etc.) grace this blog. We're just thankful this particular phenomenon has yet to happen to us personally.**
  
  Okay, okay... so the last posting did bring this on. "Alejandro" and I had moved in together and all was blissy blisstastic. He was a tall, dark, handsome, Argentinian painter of the MFA variety and was just about as cute as cute could be. We went out drinking with friends one night and came back to our little love nest and started to Go There. Right around where we left third base I started to feel something Rather Odd which turned immediately to something Rather Unfomfortable and then to Really Very Unpleasant as we reached home base. All this in under a minute. Something smelled rather like wintergreen.
  
  He started to howl in pain and we turned on the light. The tube of Name Brand Lubricant was sitting nicely in the drawer and the tube of Name Brand Muscle Rub was on the bed next to me. I had never noticed that they were in the exact same tubes. From then on he kept the muscle rub in his nightstand and the lube in mine.
• April 01, 2009
• 9:15

  My Biscuit's Burning

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  So this story goes into some detail about my sex life. Probably more than I’d generally trust the internets with, but this is a public service announcement, kiddos. I have a lesson to share. One that should have been obvious to me, but sometimes, in the heat of the moment, I can be forgetful. Woe to she who pays no heed to my warnings. Hot woe.
  
  So, I was, as the kids say, “in the red.” My delightful new pet and I, though, have a hard time keeping our hands off of one another. In this case, he had a hard time keeping his hands off of my bits. But knowing as I did that it would all only lead to frustration, I playfully pushed his hands away, kissed him again and bid him good night. Moments later, the tingle began. I shifted. It got worse. “What the?...” And worse. Soon enough, my lady parts were afire. “Oh, god, babe, no,” I said, “It burns!”
  
  At the same moment, he and I flashed back to earlier in the evening. I was cooking one of my favorite Thai recipes, and he, being an expert knife handler, seeded six peppers for me. Hot, hot f**king peppers. When I looked down at his pile of hot seeds, I said, “Now don’t go sticking your finger in your eye later.” I’d forgotten at the time to also recommend that he keep his hands off my own sensitive, damp areas.
  
  “Oh, no, the peppers!” said he.
  “S**t, it really burns!” said I.
  “Do you want some ice?”
  “No, I’ll be fine. God! That’s really hot!”
  “Well, should I get some vinegar?”
  “Vinegar? I’m not putting vinegar on my snatch.”
  “You know some women douche with vinegar.”
  “OK, well, I don’t feel like doucheing right now.”
  “Peanut butter?” he offered.
  “Peanut butter?”
  “I don’t know, all I can think of is kitchen items.”
  
  Now, I'm not sure, but I think it may have been the food connection that led him to the proper solution to the problem. He’s a smart boy, he is.
• March 31, 2009
• 10:01

  Blogging on blogs. Blahhhhg.

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  Over at Bend There Done That, Allegories in Life is talking about having to tell people she's straight just because she lives in the lesbo paradise that is Eugene, Oregon.
  
  But she also says "Man or woman, it's just never a good idea to develop crushes on those you work closely with each day." OK, that sounds good in practice, but isn't it true that most relationships start in the workplace? We spend so much time there that it's the #1 place to meet people, right?
  
  ... Not that any of my workplace relationships have ever ended in anything but disaster, come to think of it ...
  
  Also on BTDT, Write Up Your Alley (That handle has perverse connotations, does it not? Eh? Not? I'm a total perv? Fair. Not the first time I've been accused) takes a stand on the age old question, "Is it OK to post photos of your boyfriend's disgusting underwear on your blog?"
• March 30, 2009
• 9:51

  The Joys of Online Dating

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  **Editors' Note: Kate in KC sent this two-part story about her online dating experiences...thank god for the internets.**
  
  You know how certain online dating websites offer you things like “6 months free” if you don’t find the love of your life within the first 6 months of signing up? You know why they do that, right? It’s because anyone who survives 6 months worth of dates off of their website deserves – at LEAST – six months free (if not a gallon of vodka and lobotomy to assist with forgetting what trainwrecks they’ve ended up dating). Overall, though, it sounds like an okay deal – it’s basically a Buy One, Get One deal on free dinner, drinks and (just maybe) Prince Charmings.
  
  I made it one month.
  
  I joined an online dating website with a couple of friends a few years ago after a particularly sad dry stretch of dating…we weren’t meeting any guys that were worth a damn and weren’t entirely sure where to start looking. Why not let the internet look for us?! Genius, we thought! Think of all of the fun dates we’re going to score, we though! The guys who would actually pay the money to sign up on this site must be serious and looking for love, too, we thought! What could go wrong?
  
  Date #1:
  
  While trolling the website one slow afternoon at work, I came across this particular guy’s photography. He was CUUUUUUUTE – we’ll call him Lawyer Boy. After sending a half dozen messages or so back and forth, he asked for my phone number. I’m not going to lie, I was pretty giddy. Here I was, not two weeks into signing up for happily-ever-after.com, I’ve met a smokin’ hot young attorney who’s smart, witty and – have I mentioned? – dreamy. We arrange to go out one night for drinks at a little bar downtown…he picks me up from my apartment and we head out. We belly up to the bar and order a couple of drinks…he asks me about college. I tell him where I went and get about a half of a breath into the rest of my sentence when his head exploded.
  
  “BAAAAAHHHHAHAHAHA! YOU WENT TO K-STATE? THAT IS SO GAY! WHO GOES TO K-STATE?! YOU GUYS SUCK SO HARD! SERIOUSLY, WHAT A BUNCH OF HILLBILLIES! DID YOU RIDE A JOHN DEERE TO CLASS? YUCK YUCK YUCK…”
  
  Umm…what? I, um, no…I didn’t ride a John Deere to class, but thanks for asking? Upon seeing his uproar over my “provincial” college upbringing, I assume that this cosmopolitan young man must have attended NYU or Boston College or someplace SUPER cool. You know, some school set in a “real” city. Oh, no. Not this guy. Where did he go to school
  
  “O-K-L-A-H-O-M-A…OKLAHOOOOMA! THAT’S WHERE! THE BEST GODDAMN SCHOOL IN THE BIG 12 IS WHERE! OU HAS BEATING THE S**T OUT OF K-STATE IN (insert about 45 minutes of mindless screaming/sweating/swearing/statistic spouting about when and how K-State lost random sporting events to OU in the last 75 years…YAWN). K-STATE CAN SUCK IT!”
  
  After rolling my eyes so many times that I fear my eyeballs might get stuck in the back of my head, I choose to remind him that K-State beat OU a couple of years ago by a significant amount in the Big 12 Championship football game (after which OU went on to loose the National Championship…but who still remembers that?). Cue nuclear meltdown:
  
  “Son. Of. A. BITCH!! WHY DO YOU HAVE TO THROW THAT BULLS**T IN MY FACE?! ONE TIME! YOU BASTARDS WIN ONE TIME!! (at this point, I’m waving down the bartender to get our tab while Lawyer Boy’s eyes are threatening to pop out of his head) OKLAHOMA ROCKS!! OU!! OU!! OU!!”
  
  Gentlemen, please…odds are that your lady friend doesn’t really care THAT much about college sports. Odds are even better that your lady friend isn’t at ALL interested in being screamed at about college sports by a relative stranger on a first date.
• March 27, 2009
• 8:17

  Cure for the British Disease

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  **Editors' Note: Terry Tucker sent this fun one in today. We were kinda expecting the cure for halitosis, but whatev.**
  
  The four of us head into a Carmel restaurant. Milo, my date for the evening, is the talker in the group, down visiting from Vancouver. I refer to him as Milo because he reminds me of the Paul Giamatti character in Sideways. A taller, slimmer, better looking version…..….who would have been a more believable match for Virginia Madsen in the movie than Giamatti.
  
  Milo has been talking wine for the last couple hours, suave and self-assured. Earlier, we had partaken, partoked actually, of what Milo referred to as spliffs – Mid-eastern hash mixed and rolled with Turkish tobacco. An British thing, he confides, as if we were rural retards. Even though he’s Canadian, he has more than a bit of the British disease. Or maybe it’s the wine obsession that brings out the elitist touch. Prolly both.
  
  We are seated next to an elderly group in formal dress, the men in suits. One of them is carrying on about wines. His speaking voice is loud, and abrasive…….very loud, probably an age-related hearing problem. We bide our time going over the menu, waiting for the verbiage to subside but it does not. It’s tempting walk over and adjust his hearing aid.
  
  Too loud for us to carry on a conversation, so during the meal we listen to his spiel about David Bruce wines, a local winery, every imaginable aspect. Milo is listening intently, grimacing and shaking his head in silent disagreement throughout. Finally, Milo whips out a pen, writes on the slip of paper, and passes it around. “Total rubbish,” it says. We laugh.
  
  Their group finally leaves, and we also prepare to depart. Milo calls the sommelier over, offers a few comments on the wine, then says, “that guy at the next table knew absolutely nothing about wine.” The sommelier nods knowingly. Milo beams in the glow of acknowledgment and hands him a generous tip. The wine steward pockets the tip……then says, “that gentleman at the next table……that was David Bruce.” Our cue to leave.
• March 26, 2009
• 8:34

  He's No Cull

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

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  **Editors' Note: Today's guest post hails from Lisa S. about the first time her parents met her new boyfriend.**
  
  Mom really wanted to meet my new squeeze, so we made plans to do a dinner together. Mom was nervous, and maybe I was a little, too. I wanted to keep it mellow and casual, so I suggested burgers and beers. There’s one spot my mom and I have been going to for years, it’s out in the country a bit, and they have delicious greasy burgers and crunchy, flavorful onion rings. That’s what I suggested. But mom wanted to invite a friend, whom I love, and friend had gotten sick at Delicious and Greasy before, so we went to the local pub. The local pub, which smells super bad. Like toilets, now that you can’t smoke in there and the cigarette smell’s not covering up the toilet smell.
  
  But whatever. Squeeze and I have been to dives before, and we will go to many dives in the future. But here’s what was really charming: When we showed up at my mom’s place at 4 p.m., she was already working on a cocktail. OK, whatever. We all went down to the pub after mom finished what was at least cocktail #3, and we all ordered a round. When mom’s drink was set down in front of her, she took one sip and said, “Nope. This is no good. Bring me a double.” OK, whatever. I like a good drink, too, and sometimes I want to tie one on, too.
  
  But here’s the really, really nice part: As soon as we order food, mom goes over to the ATM, pulls out some cash, and then plunks down in front of a video poker machine. Sure, when the burgers come, she comes over to eat, and yes, she’s being very nice to squeeze, but as soon as food’s gone, it’s another cocktail and back to the video poker machine.
  
  Finally, I shouted at her from across the bar, “Mom, we’re tired of watching you play video poker, we’re out.” She seemed disappointed.
  
  Later, she drunk-dialed me and told me how much they liked the squeeze. Not sure how they knew that they did, but OK. Whatever.
  
  Here’s one more reason I know he’s awesome, though: Took it all in stride. No judgment, no complaints. Just shrugged it off and said, genuinely, how nice she seemed. He’s certainly no cull.
• March 24, 2009
• 14:05

  With just enough mentions of sex to be dating related

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  A blogger named Sarah Brown apparently has the most hilarious, clever friends ever to have cell phones. And she publishes lists of texts that she's saved.
  
  Two all-time favorites:
  
  I sleep with so many dudes with weird chins. Clefts, dimples, you name it, I bang it.
  
  Wait, are you on your date?! Stop texting me about your ex-husband’s dick!
• March 23, 2009
• 7:32

  Sex in Oregon

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  **Editors' Note: Today's guest post comes in from an OR gal who recently moved from the great state of California.**
  
  I've said it and written it many times before, and as long as I live in this strange town I will continue on with my ravings. I said it to K____, in the days when we would speak to people who would say "I've got to go," and then walk a scant 10 feet away from us. I thought about it late at night, while my hair pomade soiled my martini-print pillow case. And I marveled at it as I wrote drunken slogans across a filthy 18-year old junkie's back before falling under the the wily and unholy sway of Carlo Rossi "Pisano" wine. I most certainly thought angry thoughts as visions of bygone days at Modesto Junior College passed through my dreams.
  
  Oh, MJC, the veritable petri dish of libidinous youth from the greater Central Valley. I sing a song of MJC, my Alma Mater, to the Pirates, and with passion to the men, who seemed to outnumber women 10 to 1. The odds are against the males of MJC, and they know the score. Perhaps it is the methane and pollution in the brown air, maybe it is the never ending roar of highway 99 sounding like an ocean in the distance, a primordial sea of hot pavement and speed, the California highway that can take you Anywhere. Maybe it was the pervading stagnation of Suburban Hell and Boredom, the knowledge of the fact that there are 12 million tiny rooms painted white, 17 billion little rooms that swelter with suffocating humidity in the summer and make you realize that the entire state is like a fishbowl turned over. No air. No space. Just heat, and people, and endless rows of houses, beyond that, the country that leads to more country, to weird lakes, to the foothills, and farther off, the ocean. Always the Road and the Ocean.
  
  What else was there to do but to f**k?
  
  They would accost me at any time. They would stalk, and call, and wait. They were patient. They knew what they wanted. I had the luxury to say "No," and I uttered it often. Even so, I never went without for very long.
  
  But here, there is no sex. There are too many women. It is a bachelor's paradise, the men are in charge, and oh, there are many blond ski bunnies to go around. Many nubile girls, beautiful girls, so many of them you could drown in a sea of tank tops and hair product. There are swarms of girls, they line the streets in summer. How I hate them! What's worse, how badly do I hate couples! I've a theory that every bedreadlocked dirty hippie sonofabitch was born with a girlfriend and a dog. I hate teenage couples. I hate people who go to bars and have sex and write about it on the internet. I hate how getting laid is a special thing around here. I hate thinking of all the lucky people out there, f**king, while I get none. Even working for it doesn't work. Even dating doesn't work.
  
  I'm cursed. That is the only answer.
  
  Fate has laid down the law. Fortuna deemed it can only take place between me and someone who has once lived in the Outside: Nevada Nevada California. I have never tasted the sweet nectar of Oregon, nor will I ever, most likely, and that is fine, for lack thereof has only embittered me, and even if the opportunity came, if Oregon offered me one of her Native Sons, I would yell "NO! None of your vile flesh! I will have none of it!" Oregon--you have done me wrong! You know I would do most anything for sex! I would ride for 24 hours on a rotten Amtrak carriage for it! I would seduce a CART BOY for a chance. What is it with you, Oregon? You have turned me into a dried up crone. You have stolen my youth and the best of my fruits! My lube has evaporated in the dry mountain air, my paintbox of Erotic Chocolate has spoiled, and my whips no longer sting--they only titillate my cat, now. What foul relegation! I could have given you orgies, masterpieces of BDSM, a really good time, but no! Do you know how unfortunate it is to wear a garter for practical reasons? I throw up my hands in anguish.
  
  I have officially given up on Sex in Oregon.
• March 20, 2009
• 9:58

  The Shortest Date of My Life

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  **Editors' Note: Today's guest post comes in from the 4S's blog. Thanks for the submission!**
  
  My friends set me up on a blind date with whom they promised to be a beautiful intelligent gal last week. After much convincing and elaborate descriptions I finally relented and agreed to make the date. I called her up via the # given to me and had a quick awkward conversation with a lady who we shall call Jane. Jane sounded pleasant on the phone and seemed to be as just nervous as me about the prospect of a blind date.
  
  Unfortunately I was strapped for funds and couldn’t afford to go out, so I suggested that I cook us a nice meal and she bring a bottle of wine for our enjoyment.
  The last items in my fridge I could pull together were a pack of pork chops, some potatoes and broccoli. So I spent the 30 mins before she was to arrive preparing dinner thinking rather highly of my self in my domestic skills. Jane arrived, beautiful as described and I was pleased.
  
  The door to my apartment enters into my kitchen so of course the first question out of her mouth was, “what’s cooking?”
  
  “I’m making pork chops, mashed potatoes, and broccoli.” I replied with a grin.
  
  She gave me a funny look and seemed disappointed. Then she said, “I don’t eat pork chops.”
  
  “Why? Don’t you like pork?”
  
  “No, I don’t eat it because of my religion.”
  
  “Ooooh… Sorry, I didn’t realize!” I said franticly trying to figure out how to stave off disaster.
  
  Jane cocked her head and gave me a funny look saying, “You shouldn’t eat pork either.”
  
  Rather suprised at her statement I replied, “But I don’t believe in what you believe in.”
  
  Then to my shock and awe she said something I have never actually uttered other than in jest.
  
  “That’s because you’re a heathen.”
  
  A heathen! She actually called me a heathen. I could not believe it. Folks, I am not a fan of organized religion. I am tolerant of it as long as you aren’t shoving it down my throat, but I don’t subscribe to any brand of it. So in complete shock my automatic response was,
  
  “Well you’re an ignorant bitch.”
  
  To which Jane turned and left the apartment. Luckily she left the bottle of wine behind, because I really needed a drink after that encounter.
  
  All in all it was about a 3 min date that ended with us exchanging verbal blows. I will just have to always remember, never cook pork on a blind date!!!
• March 18, 2009
• 9:10

  Going Out on St. Patty's Day

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  **Editors' Note: Today's guest post come in from "Terry Tucker" who sent us The Perfect First Date a few weeks ago. Thanks Terry!**
  
  Driving downtown, I spot my ex-boss walking on the sidewalk. Should let it go, but I can’t. Later I call him on the cell, ask how it’s going. Tell him I saw him walking downtown, why don’t we get together and catch up….how about St. Patty’s day?.......been awhile.
  
  Quite a while…..we did not part on good terms. In fact he fired me for insubordination, and I wonder what in the world I’m doing…..asking him out, wanting to see him again. Chance to clear things up? Always a lot of sexual tension between us. Or maybe just tension….we disagreed on politics and just about everything else…..the way we saw the world. But he was good looking, and flaunted it, and so did I…….flirting and sexual double entendres were part of the daily routine. Going with a biker at the time, so it never came to anything.
  
  Still irked me the way he fired me. Had a dentist’s appointment on Friday afternoon at 2. The doctor’s office was on the other side of town, so I planned to take the rest of the afternoon off, not come back. No way, he said. Would not budge, even when I explained it. When I returned to the office the next Monday morning, he had me clean out my desk (hovering above) and walked me to the door. My last memory of him was a smirk on his face. No wonder I felt conflicted about this date. He should have been working for me, when I thought about it.
  
  We had dinner at McCormick’s…..on the way back I suggested stopping and getting hammered at an Irish pub, not far from where I lived. Actually, it was a bikers’ bar called Duffy’s, Irish in name only. A couple guys at the bar greeted me as we walked in. He said something about it as we slid into the booth. I nodded……”yeh, used to come here a lot with my ex, he practically lived here.”
  
  “Still does,” I added. He turned and surveyed the room. His eyes landed on the surly guy behind the pool table with a cue stick in his hand. Who glared back and held eye contact. As my ex slowly sauntered over to our table, cue stick in hand, I felt the urge to go. “Going to the girl’s room,” I said. When I came back out, both of them were gone. Ditto for the other pool player. I walked over to the bar and order a beer. Time to figure out a way to get home.
• March 17, 2009
• 11:01

  The Back Story

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

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  Wondering lately, in my newly monogamous state, how others handle the past. Now, personally, I’m not talking about the “how many people have you slept with” question. Because I, for one, don’t go there. I don’t want to know unless there’s a reason to know. Say, if you were once paid for sex and so you did a LOT of it and can’t possibly come up with a number. Other than that? I can take a range. Like, between one and a hundred? OK. Fine. Between one and two hundred? See, I’d rather not know that and I wish I hadn’t asked.
  
  But more generally, it’s feeling funny to have my first new b.f. in ages, and have to start telling stories from the long distant past. Oh, yeah, I did have an anarchist boyfriend who got knifed downtown one time by skinheads. Oh, and I had one who dressed in ladythings. Oh, yes, that one got married, this one refuses to talk to me because he thought I cheated on him (but the guy I supposedly cheated with turned out to be gay) … and on and on and on. Some of it’s important, some of it isn’t. Some, like admitting to The New One that yes, I do contribute to a dating blog, well that I got over with quickly. Bandaid-ed that f**ker. Especially considering that the new one’s kind of afraid of the internets.
  
  So c’mon, DIW readers. Do tell: What’s “too much, too soon” when it comes to a new partner? And what are the “need to know right away” points?
• March 16, 2009
• 7:55

  My Side of the Bed

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  **Editors' Note: Today's guest post comes in from Wayne, who almost put his foot down about his side of the bed.**
  
  My two friends and I took these two girls home one night after seeing a sweet jam band that loved to cover the Grateful dead and the Alman Brothers. It was clear from about minute 4 of meeting these girls that my friend was hooking up with the cute one. That was it.
  
  To be honest, I had no intention of any "hooking up" with either of these girls. I just had to start a conversation because they were the only girls at the bar who weren't old enough to be my mom. I mean, they were fun, they were just the sort of insecurity that manifests itself as negative reactions, whiney tones, and a general discontent, instead of just.. idk... laughing at a situation. (aka stop complaining).
  
  After bar time, we arrive at my place. One of my friends was captain wasted face and crashed on my roommates bed. In order to give the two love birds some privacy (British accent implied) I offer to share my bed with the other friend. I guess this is called "taking one for the team." And so we enter my room.
  
  My queen size bed fits snugly in the back corner of my room. This means there 1 side to get in and out from. Being that its my bed, I typically sleep on that side, the "outside" if you will. My new friend, however, decided that if you throw yourself in my bed with all your clothes on, you get to pick what side you sleep on! Neg friend.
  
  I get naked because that's how I sleep (jk). I'm in underwear and t-shirt. I ask her to scoot over, and in the same whiney voice she's had all night she says "No! I'm sleeping on the outside."
  
  My first thought wasn't to make her sleep on the floor, or with Drunky McUnderage in the other room. It was, "how did this girl learn that that would be an ok way to react?" I mean, entitlement is an understatement.
  
  I calmly informed her that this was in fact, my bed and as a guest in my bed, she would surrender the same 6' by 3' area I sleep in every night. Her face was shocked, but then for the first time all night, I felt like she chilled out and realized its ok if everything doesn't go your way.
  
  A man can be territorial, no doubt. It's hardwired. We take pride in what we call our own, and feel great about being able to share our bed with you. Try to be grateful for what your man provides, return the favor with your feminine sweetness, and he will share everything with you.
  
  P.s. we ended up making out, and she woke up on the "outside"
• March 12, 2009
• 8:52

  Craigslist Personals - girl who dumped me over the phone at 1:30 am - m4w

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  Tags:    [edit]

  
  
  Date: 2009-01-18, 1:57AM
  
  You called me at 1:30 AM to tell me over and over that you don't want to be with me any more. The problem is, I don't know who you are, and I tried to explain that.
  
  In retrospect, it would have been more fun to play along, but I was a bit too groggy to think fast. Oh well, next time a wrong number breaks up with me, I'll be ready.
  
  Give me a call if you want to practice dumping guys, I guess my number's probably in your phone now. Try to call before 10 though.
  
  * Location: 818
  * it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
  
  [www.craigslist.org]
• March 11, 2009
• 12:53

  The Perfect First Date

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

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  **Editors' Note: Today's guest post comes from "Terry Tucker" about the winner she met one night.**
  
  A club below Santa Cruz, drinking and listening to music with a group of friends. Late in the evening, a solitary male walks in and parks himself at the next table. He catches my eye, and we invite him over to join us. Good looking guy with a scruffy beard. Just before closing time, he mentions his nightly/early-morning newspaper delivery route in the Santa Cruz mountains….starting in less than an hour, do I want to join him? Of course.
  
  We pick up the newspapers just before 3:00am and head out, fortified with stimulants he just happens to have handy. Soon wildly careening down backroad corridors, alternating the paper stuffing, a wonderful rhythm, chatting our heads off, totally wired. A couple of stops where he grabs paper and package, runs inside the cabins, quickly returns. Delivery to the door for invalids and shut-ins, he explains. What a guy. Not just that, but he took them something extra, probably food, and delivered inside. Talk about trust.
  
  It occurs to me that this is the perfect type of first date. A shared activity that brings a strong sense of teamwork, connection…..the conversation so easy. It should always be like this. That’s when I realize I'm buzzing on something special. I like it. The route takes about 3 hours, is over like that.
  
  We wheel into a breakfast café still in the Santa Cruz mountain area, Felton I think. The locals seem to know him, and greet him as they filter in. He gets up and works the room while I tie into an omelet. So popular, almost everyone knows him, wants a piece of his time. A overheard fragment of conversation from the next table, then it hits me, and slowly sinks in.
  
  The fatal flaw. My ex was a dealer, too.
• March 09, 2009
• 8:54

  It Would Be Better If This Were a Friends Episode

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  **Editors' Note: Today's guest post hails from "Rachel" who wants us to know she doesn't get paid a million dollars to deal with this crap.**
  
  So the first time I was approached about contributing to DIW I had to carefully explain that I couldn’t really contribute since I hadn’t actually dated. Yes, I was about 8 months in to my first serious relationship (lasted 15 mos. Boo-ooring!), but everything before had been pretty much the same: he’s cool, we start hanging out alone together, he acts weird, I go out of town and I never call when I get back. All in less than 3 weeks. That just didn’t seem DIW worthy. That’s when I learned that you don’t have to have officially dated the person, just tell us some crazy relationship s**t. Oh! In that case, I’m totally in.
  
  You know how on Friends they had the whole “We Were On a Break!” thing? Mine is “I Don’t Think We Should Do This Anymore”. And just like on Friends I can say it and all my friends know what I’m talking about. And just like on Friends, it never quite gets to the “we will laugh about this one day” stage. Its always just as awkward and hurtful as the day he said it.
  
  So you should probably know that while we weren’t dating, 88 and I were sleeping together pretty regularly. We were good old-fashioned f**k buddies, there for each other at all the right times (ex: After bar time). Oh, we were also really great friends. But that’s what friends do in college; they sleep together. And if they are a really great friend, they’ll be ok with no strings attached and they won’t get all emotional on you every time they down a 12-pack. So that was us—really great friends. And I think we must have been sleeping together for about a year before things got ugly the first time.
  
  I could totally feel it coming; things just weren’t feeling as friendly between us as they had been. I knew it. He knew it. I knew that he knew it. You know. But less than friendly sex with your FB is better than no sex at all. Apparently that only holds true until your FB girl (me) shows up to your house s**t faced off tequila and with a group of friends.
  
  It was a friend’s birthday and we had been at a Mexican restaurant doing the obligatory underage “pitcher of margarita/flirting with the waiter” thing. And I was properly s**t faced. I can’t give you great details about the first half of the night at his house other than at one point, I was mummified in scotch tape, I opened a bunch of flavored condoms that were in a bowl on the counter and tried to get people to taste them, and my wallet was missing for about a week. What I can tell you is just about every single thing that happened after 3 am that night.
  
  I ended up passing out in his bed of course and somewhere around 3 am I got that half-asleep sex nudge. You know, you’re both still kind of sleeping, but you still know you want to have sex, so you fumble around for a bit until you wake up going at it?! I know I don’t have to explain that to this crowd.
  
  So I got the nudge and I responded and I was fine with it. He, apparently, was not. It wasn’t more than 15-20 seconds after we finished, we’re both totally naked, I’m laying on top of him, resting a minute, when he said the words that have come to define an entire period of my life:
  
  “I don’t think we should do this anymore”.
  
  He said it with the kind of slight hesitation that you know he had been practicing it over in his head and for just a second he had to make sure that this time he was saying it out loud. That’s it. No, “I think we need to talk”, no “I think you should put your clothes back on”. Just, “I know I just initiated this sex, but now I got what I want and am ready to humiliate you”
  
  Ok, that might not be word for word, memory can be a tricky thing. But I got up, I gave him a little “Are you f**king kidding me that you did this right now, like this? You’re the one who started this.” speech, I put my clothes back on and I went home. I’m not totally sure, but I’m guessing I was starting to cry at this point too. I know myself and I was sort of drunk, it was the middle of the night, and I just got broken up with by my non-boyfriend. That’s usually the kind of thing I would start crying over.
  
  So I left. But I didn’t get in my car and drive home like a nice self-respecting girl would do. I didn’t have my car there so I stomped out the front door and started to walk the 7 blocks back to my apartment at 4 in the morning. And I had gotten about a block and a half before I realized I had forgotten my shoes at his apartment.
  
  So now comes my mental debate: Is it better to turn back now and have to walk a few extra blocks and get the shoes, or wait until morning and have to call and ask for them back?
  
  I turned around and retrieved my shoes, deciding I’m still a little drunk right now and can probably pull this off better now than when we all sober up in the morning. And I was pretty sure I didn’t want to talk to this asshole again for quite a while. So I walk back into his house, announce that I’m not returning to talk to him, only to get my shoes, and I walk right back out the door.
  
  And I never slept with him again.
  
  Actually, that was about 4 years ago and we finally ended things last week. You’re probably going to be hearing from me again.
• March 05, 2009
• 20:18

  Worst One Night Stand Ever

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  **Editors' Note: Found this little story from across the Atlantic. Holy s**t. **
  
  Wayne Fisher looks like your typical early 20-something guy:
  
  
  Wayne likes to drink, likes to f**k, and enjoys taking some Valium every now and again to cut loose, according to a story in the Daily Mail. His tastes lean toward the pretty, young, attractive girls at the clubs as evidenced by Dominique Fisher, a young lady he went home with:
  
  
  According to the story, Wayne went home with Dominique after meeting at a club. They had both had a few drinks, Wayne had taken some Valium, and they bumped uglies in the bikini area, as the saying goes.
  
  But when Wayne woke up, something was horribly, horribly wrong. He was covered in blood and found this:
  
  
  
  And these:
  
  
  
  "When I woke I was covered in blood. Dominique was snoring. I just had to get out of there. I didn't even wake her to ask what she'd done," Wayne told reporters.
  
  Jesus H. Christ.
  
  Needless to say, Wayne high tailed it out of there and called the police. Dominique was arrested, charged and found guilty of "unlawful wounding." (God I love the British vernacular.) She has yet to be sentenced.
  
  Next time you think of going home with that pretty thing from the bar, think of Wayne.
• 10:48

  A quick note about awkwardness

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  Dear Internet,
  
  Did I ever tell you about the time when my mom was taking a photo of me and my boyfriend (we were 18 or so, hadn’t been dating too long, and he had come to Christmas dinner, so she took our photo in front of the tree) and instead of saying, “Say Cheese!” she said, “Say Babies!”?
  
  I almost shat myself.
  
  Love,
  
  Serial
• March 04, 2009
• 8:28

  Craigslist Personals - Even Stoners Get the Blues

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  A few extra lbs? No problem! Just don't be a bitch and love smoking weed. Easy!
  
  Super Stoner seeks same - 43 (South Side Bend)
  
  Why can you find these sorts of things always on the south side of town?
• March 03, 2009
• 9:37

  Top Keyword Searches Sending DIW Traffic

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  As the main editor / webmaster of this funny little blog, I have the immense pleasure of reading the ever growing list of keywords sending Dating Is Weird traffic. As we've grown, so has the ridiculousness of many of the keywords.
  
  Below is just a small selection of some of my favorites:
  
  1. "pee party loughlin"
  
  WTF? Why are 23 people looking for me in relation to a pee party? Fuuuccck that. I think it's actually because a co-worker of mine wanted to spam my keyword log...dude has way too much time on his hands..
  
  2. "she farted in my face"
  
  Apparently this is more of a problem than I realized. Quite a few folks landed on DIW looking for assurance they weren't the only ones with fart breath.
  
  3. "dated that douche"
  
  This just seems to be a more succinct synopsis of this blog.
  
  4. "how to get a guy to talk to you"
  
  That's easy sweetie: don't write for this blog.
  
  5. "call us sluts serial monogamist"
  
  Couldn't really figure out what people were looking for here other than one of our regular contributors Serial Monogamist. Hmm.
  
  6. "had no regard for the feelings of others, i was narcissistic and self-absorbed to the point of psychotic delusion"
  
  Personal favorite here.
  
  7. "astroglide lube burning asshole"
  
  Less buttsex, duh. What I wish I could tell is which post came up as most relevant for this search..
  
  8. "boyfriend unemployed parents basement"
  
  I love how you can glean so much from just four words.
  
  9. "buttass naked"
  
  Hey, who doesn't like nudey time.
  
  10. "condoms pinned to the wall"
  
  Evidently it's not just me that misses c.vance on this blog.
  
  
  That's all for now. There's plenty more so stay tuned.
• March 02, 2009
• 9:09

  My First Lay in a New Town

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  **Editors' Note: Today's guest post comes in from "ZZ Bottom" about his first lay after leaving home.**
  
  so i am writing my first blog...so i'm chosing to write about my first lay in a new town. at 18 i moved to a city out west, and i was having a little trouble meeting the ladies as i did not have a fake id, and i had no friends. well, everyone knows the best way for an underage scrub to meet a young, willing woman...house party!! a co-worker invited me to a house party, and beverages were being served. well, later in the night, a classy young breezy started talkin' to me. before long we were tongue wrestling atop a freezer box in the basement...pretty standard hook-up story up to this point...
  
  enter her hippie ex-boyfriend.
  
  lets call him Kip, and lets call her Jessica...which was her name (i'm surprised i remembered that). in any case, Kip, a disheveled, passive aggressive hippie common to the region, accosted us while we pawed at each other's goodies. being a glutton for self-punishment, he hung around us like the smell of patchouli and body odor while we made out. not long after he says to me, still next to Jessica, "Hey dude, she means a lot to me and we just broke up a week ago... just please promise to wear a condom." Interesting request, but i nodded and we continued kissing and groping. We made the natural course to the cramped bathroom. Young Jessica lifted her skirt and we commenced to boning...without a condom. HA! (now i typically don't endorse this cavalier attitude about sex, but luckily i've since been tested and came out ok!)
  
  Anyway, dude, Kip, sees us coming out of the bathroom, fully sexed out. Being the sweet doormat that he is, he offered us a ride to my new apartment. SWEET! this dildo let us pile into his cute little yellow VW bug (like Ted Bundy's) and took us! Then he dropped us off and gave me the whole, "hey, she's a great girl...treat her right" speech. Then he left and we had more unprotected sex on my couch. the next morning i found her panties on the sidewalk in front of my house. poetic.
  
  thanks Kip
• February 26, 2009
• 20:17

  Men vs. Women (Spoiler: I think the men usually win)

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  A girl I know was dumped, hard, by her long-term boyfriend when he found someone new. Problem was, he still wanted to hit the familiar. Probably because she knew his kinks, it was easy, it was comfortable. So she gave it up, but it drove her nuts. And all of her friends frowned on her for it—and I’ll admit it, I was among their ranks.
  
  Now take a man I know (I know this is way different, but bear with me): I went out with this Guy (Let’s call him Guy, but pronounce it the French way. Soft ‘g’ followed by a long ‘eeee.’ Try it: "Guy." Isn’t that nice? After all, he was an excellent kisser, just scruffy enough and he pulled away at the perfect moment) a few times, then I dumped him. Not hard, no. Ole June just told him that I didn’t really think we were compatible. I had fun going out, but in all honesty, he was a brute and a conversation hog when my friends were around. One on one with me? Perfectly charming. But it became a problem later. Oh and Guy drove a s**tty car. Not sort of s**tty, but very s**tty, bad upholstery and a spider crack crawling across the windshield, and he didn’t even work full time.
  
  But I digress: I dumped him. He was none too pleased, and tried to talk me out of it. No go, buddy boy. A couple of weeks later, I was checking my email and his little green available button popped up. He IM’d me. And I’ll admit it: I was pretty wasted (it was a Sex in the City watching and wine drinking party night), and pretty randy. Not sure how long it took for me to subtly invite him over—not long, though.
  
  Now here’s the thing I like about men. Did he once complain that I didn’t like him and I was using him for his body when I dumped him and then invited him over for a late night bootie call? No. He hopped right into that godawful jalopy and right into my sateen sheets. Did he think that because I’d let him sleep over that we were ‘on again?’ No. And did his friends look down on him because I thought I was too good for him unless he had his pants off? I doubt it. Did it hurt his self-esteem to have meaningless sex with someone he was interested in for more? If so, he certainly didn’t act like it when he bounced out of my apartment the next morning, whistling Dixie.
• 9:47

  Grand Theft Auto

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  **Editors' Note: Today's guest post comes in from "Trodo." Who doesn't love a little crime with their dates?**
  
  Around this time last year I broke up with my ex and was on the prowl for something new, exciting and distracting. A friend figured she would be kind and gave my name and number to a friend of hers. I should have known something was not right from the get-go when, instead of calling me, he messaged me on Facebook first. A day or two go by of us exchanging vague, non-specific pleasantries back and forth – him with the intent of wanting to meet up, me with the intent of being polite so he’d take the hint, shut the hell up and leave me alone.
  
  But, as we all know with bad dates they just don’t get the hint. Car Boy eventually worked up the courage to ask me for coffee and I brushed him off with an ‘Oh sorry, too busy with work’ excuse. Then he text messaged me with another ‘Hey lets go for coffee!’ Me: ‘I’m sick.’
  
  Next I get a flurry of determined (stalkerish) messages about how he’d do the nice thing and bring the coffee to me because I am so sick. Yeah, no, I can’t have him doing that so I eventually agree to meet up at a different time later that week.
  
  The planned date time comes and goes and I don’t hear from him. Instead of being relieved, I have to admit I was somewhat curious that he let it drop after all his hard work so I text him.
  
  Three days later he gets back to me. Apparently he was doing some ‘Training for work and blah blah blah blah.’ I hesitantly accept this line, and I agree to go out with him the next night.
  
  Date night comes and he arrives at my place to pick me up. I have to admit he was kind of good-looking in the fierce bald way, but he totally blew it when he matched that look with a Christmas sweater. That had danglies on it. Dangling Christmas dangles—if that isn’t a red flag I don’t know what is. But: Car Boy had a great Jeep.
  
  So I get in the jeep and we (he) decided that instead of going to sit inside a place full of potential witnesses, we’d hit a coffee drive thru and drive around. But despite everything, Car Boy is somewhat of an interesting guy to talk with (minus the fact that all he really did was talk about cars and I could only nod along, give doe eyes and act interested), so it was rather easy.
  
  After a good hour of being parked down near a river that screamed ‘Make out point,’ he decides that he is in fact a horny teenager going to get some action! He puts the moves on me; leaning close, sliding arm around shoulders, puckering up his lips and attempting to look me longingly in the eyes. I wanted to vomit and this conversation followed:
  
  Me: Yeah, time for me to head home.
  
  Car Boy: Oh, okay, well have a good night.
  
  Me: Um…you picked me up?
  Car Boy: Yeah, I know.
  
  Me: You’ve got to drive me back home.
  
  Car Boy: Oh, right.
  
  His astuteness astounds and stuns me into silence as he begins to take me home. But then! Instead of taking me home, he goes and picks up his friend instead! Even worse, I get shuffled to the BACK of the jeep for this to happen. I would have gotten out if I knew where exactly we were and found my own ride home but before I thought of that I was trapped in the back seat.
  
  Next, he drives to the opposite end of town from where I live. I’m now a good 40 minutes from home. In the industrial park. With Car Boy and his friend. Trapped in the back seat.
  
  Soon we find ourselves parked outside of a locked, chain link fence that is keeping us out of a darkened parking lot. It was at the point his friend got out of the Jeep, reached into the back (where I’m sitting) to grab a pair of chain cutters that were under the seat, and he goes to the fence. I dig through my purse to find my phone and SOS some help, but it’s dead. Great.
  
  His friend cuts the lock on the fence and pushes the gates open only for us to drive right on through. I just witnessed by first up close and personal B&E. Car Boy jumps out of the vehicle after parking, telling me to wait there.
  
  Five Minutes go by.
  
  Ten Minutes go by.
  
  He finally comes back around the 15-minute mark. He doesn’t come back alone. Nope, he’s bearing gifts! Greasy, oily headlight gifts. Which he promptly dumps in my lap asking, ‘Hey, can you hold this?’ This repeats over and over until the back is littered with car parts. Seriously, car parts. He’s stealing car parts from an auto shop parking lot.
  
  You know what makes this all sweeter? About the fifth time he starts talking about his sexual powers, but he starts talking as if we were in mid conversation about it already. So while he’s stealing vehicles I’m learning he’s got a dick that is just ‘made to tickle the girls the right way.’ Is stealing an aphrodisiac?
  
  Just when I think things can’t get any worse, I hear the sound of an engine start. His friend had hotwired a vehicle and peeled out of the parking lot. Cue for us to leave. We peel out of there and I finally get a ride home. He expects a good night kiss; I stare at him as if he’s grown two heads that each has a dick flopping from his forehead.
  
  Next day at work – extremely paranoid by then – I get a call from my friend. Car Boy and his friend have skipped town. Apparently they had some trouble with the law. My paranoia goes into overdrive and for the next two weeks I refuse to leave the house without giant sunglasses to hide my identity and believe I’m being followed.
  
  I deleted his number from my phone. He still tries to get in touch with me today. But hey, we made it into the newspaper.
• February 25, 2009
• 7:35

  Tarzan Responds

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  **Editors' Note: Last week a guest submission from "Jane" came in about the first time she saw her boyfriend too drunk. Her boyfriend, Tarzan, responded this week.**
  
  I must admit I was amazed at the response I received by your friends when I (drunkenly, I admit) made my pubic hair preferences public knowledge. Aghast looks, dropped jaws, smirks of derision. Since when did an attraction to a natural and beautiful thatch of luxuriant pubic hair become a sexual deviance? I argue that a sculpted and manipulated bush, or god forbid, a fully shaved one is much more strange and freakish.
• February 23, 2009
• 9:27

  Dating a Banker Anonymous

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  There was an article in the NYTimes recently about a support group started by some women living in NYC whose relationships went in the s**tter due to the recession:
  
  Are you f**king kidding me?
  
  The one common thread among them is their romances with high powered, financial wankers have all suffered as their men have come under the stress of a market collapse and economic recession. No more credit cards or $250 eye brow waxings. No more unhindered consumerism at their boyfriend's and/or husband's expense.
  
  Here's a quote from the article:
  
  "In addition to meeting once or twice weekly for brunch or drinks at a bar or restaurant, the group has a blog, billed as “free from the scrutiny of feminists,” that invites women to join “if your monthly Bergdorf’s allowance has been halved and bottle service has all but disappeared from your life.”
  
  I know I'm a freak who would rather wear elastic waistbands and baggy socks, but what is the f**k is bottle service and how f**king lame do you have to be to pay for it?
• February 19, 2009
• 8:41

  The First Time I Ever Saw My Boyfriend Too Drunk

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  **Editors' Note: This guest post hails from a gal who asked to be called "Jane." Names have been changed to protect the hairy.**
  
  It was only 3 months after my own, overly drunken fiasco that I had to wait to see my boyfriend's version. There's probably a Hallmark card somewhere, but I'm not so sure I want to mark the anniversary. My friends who were witnesses have taken it upon themselves to remind me. Regularly.
  
  Here's the story:
  
  Boyfriend comes to my regular-Tuesday-night-supper-club crew's movie night. We had decided to watch the Big Lebowski while drinking white russians. Someone had brought over Kahlua Especial, which is 70 proof. Not realizing that this Kahlua was actually as strong as the vodka we were generously pouring, we generously topped off the drinks with more fire water.
  
  The bottle runs out. Someone reads the label. Holy s**t guys, we're a lot drunker than we probably realized. The Dude was only half done abiding so we kept going. Someone went to buy more. Not especial this time, but still. Regular Kahlua is about 40 proof. Nothing to scoff at.
  
  I was taking it easy (strange in itself) because I hadn't brought my A game. Not necessary as I came to find out later as boyfriend brought his.
  
  I went outside to hang with the smokers and catch some fresh air. My dear friend was leaving for several months, so I wanted to see her as much as possible before she left. We chatted about how well it was going with boyfriend.
  
  When I reentered the party, the remaining folk were silent, including my clearly drunk boyfriend.
  
  "Hey guys. What are ya'll talking 'bout?"
  
  "Oh, preferences..." said one of my girlfriends with a derisive smile.
  
  "I told them about my preference for the natural look," said a slightly slurring boyfriend.
  
  Knowing exactly what he was referring to, I immediately blushed red and flustered my way to the coach. Looking around, everyone was smiling at me. They all knew too.
  
  "Well I still keep it manicured. Whatever. When in Rome, do as...whatever. Just whatever."
  
  Later when we were ready to go, I said "Come on Tarzan. We're going home."
  
  My friends still find it immensely funny to say things like, "Don't trip over your pubes" or "You need to comb your hair" or other helpful grooming tips.
• February 17, 2009
• 8:41

  **Sappy lovey dovey alert**

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  
  
  Being in love with my boyfriend feels like this video.
• February 16, 2009
• 8:36

  Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde Syndrome

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  **Editors' Note: Today's guest post is from Tally G about a recent New Years encounter.**
  
  If you've ever dated, you've experienced the Dr. J and Mr. H Syndrome. This one threw me for a loop. It was a story book encounter, the kind you reminisce about for years to come. The “how we met” story that makes your friend’s jealous and little girls to continue to believe in “the one.”
  
  Freshly single, I went out on NYE to simply have a good time. Unbeknownst to me, a complete stranger came up to me at 11:45 and said, “I don’t have anyone to kiss at midnight. How about it?” It took me a couple seconds to process, but as I looked at him, I thought he was cute and I liked his confidence. So, I agreed. After 15 minutes of small talk, we did the deed. Despite that he was a sloppy kisser and that I didn’t remember his name, I decided to take him back home with our party. Thus, starting the first week of dating bliss with Dr. Jekyll.
  
  We went to breakfast the next morning with some of my friends and he passed that awful situation with flying colors especially having only known me for 12 hours. I found out we had the same sense of humor and a lot of interests in common: music, family, outdoorsy, driven. I got a call for the first date later that day. No game playing, I like that. The first date-dinner, his house and a hot tub. After that, we ended up spending the whole weekend together. He had to leave town for work after that. But, I got a call/text from him everyday that week. Still no game playing-he likes me, I like him and we’re both enjoying getting to know each other. Unfortunately, I was really sick the next weekend so I didn’t see him. But, with the promise we’d reconnect when he’s back in town the next.
  
  He leaves town for work again. No biggie, I like the space. But, I don’t hear from him at all this week except a drunk dial proclaiming his affections. Awww. We planned to meet up that Saturday. This is where it gets weird. I didn’t get a cancel call from him until late that night. Rude. I gave him an out right then and there and that was fine with me. (After all, he was a sloppy kisser and rather small in the game). Instead of taking it, he killed himself to change his other plans to hang out with me. But, yet again, the next morning, he couldn’t drop me off faster. I was a little surprised he didn’t just open the car door and kick me to the curb. Still, we planned to meet up for a movie that night. The movie ended up being sold out, so we grabbed a beer instead. It was the longest beer of my life. I felt like I repulsed him the entire time. As you can guess, Mr. Hyde never called again.
  
  P.S. If your New Year’s Resolution is to be an asshole too, at least be good in bed.
• February 12, 2009
• 15:46

  Getting used to new things

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  I think it's strange what we can get used to, and how these things don't seem at all strange at the time, not until they're undone.
  
  A recent meeting with an ex highlighted the point for me. Poster Boy and I were getting together for one final exchange of stuff.
  
  (Or we thought it was final, that process seems neverending, the unentwining of things, pictures, friends, bank accounts, tax documents. Everso thankful there had to be no courts involved, no kids, even more)
  
  More than six months had passed, the holidays were over. And we'd both moved on, and both had new people in our lives. Somehow, this was the first meeting at which things were comfortable. I could tease him without getting nasty. We could laugh without following it up with sad silence. No one cried, no one yelled. There was a brief, awkward hug (I refused to shake his hand. That seemed stupid). We shared a beer. He asked me about the New One, I gave up only as much info as I was willing to, danced around other questions. Then Poster Boy, in classic form, asked, "if this dude" was going to try to find him and fight him or something. I laughed, admitting New One had asked the same question of him. But then I answered, "No, no. He's really nice," and immediately after saying it, I realized that there was noticeable surprise in my voice.
  
  Poster Boy looked at me, "Oh yeah? He is? I have that, too," he said, eyes wide, incredulous.
  
  We nodded together, slowly.
  
  "So, do you guys fight?" he asked.
  
  "Oh, no. No." I said, "You?"
  
  "No, huh uh."
  
  We looked at each other, shaking our heads. Shrugged. As if we'd had no idea such a thing was possible.
• February 11, 2009
• 9:19

  Why Dating Co-Workers Is A Bad Idea

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  **Editors' Note: Today's guest post comes in from "Slightly Disheveled." This is why we don't date co-workers.**
  
  I was a head hostess in a "gourmet" pizza place. Our pasta chef was only a little bit older than I was and was really cute in a kind of awkward skater way. I flirted with him and exchanged off-color jokes and we were... friendly. He was quirky and offbeat. I like that.
  
  He eventually got around to asking me out and took me out to dinner and to his favorite bar. I displayed my full range of ineptness at pool. Had some... was I young enough to have ordered RED WINE in a Dive Bar? I guess I was. One of the girls there kinda pulled me aside to tell me that he was bad news. Okay. Jealous much?
  
  I got the flu soon after and he wanted to fix me a blood orange salad with a orange-balsamic vinaigrette dressing. He was speaking my language, so I let him come over. It was delicious. I agreed to another date after I got better.
  
  He came into work the next time Absolutely Brilliantly Happy. He swung through the door and walked up to me and said: "You'll never ever guess what I found on my way to work. It's so cool. Not everyone would understand it though. But you would. You're really going to love this." He opened up his brilliant yellow backpack to show me three wet objects the size of a man's fist wrapped and tied off neatly in those long baggies that newspapers get delivered in. I was perplexed.
  
  "They're cat heads."
  
  (ahem)
  
  "I'm going to put them in the back yard with the rest of them. You put a rock on top of the hole and the other critters don't eat them but the bugs clean them off."
  
  I told him that I couldn't go on that date with him after all.
  
  So he started showing up in my backyard at night watching my house "To make sure I was okay." He told me to watch for his Mickey's Wide Mouth Bottles in the recycling so that I would be able to tell how long he spent each night watching my house. Which he did... for about four bottles a night... for the next three weeks.
  
  I left the state.
• February 10, 2009
• 9:12

  Dating is Really Weird

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  
  
  Um. I don't know what to say about this.
• February 08, 2009
• 21:53

  The Pubic Combover

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  **Editors' Note: This guest post came in from "Donna Trump." What we'd like to know is how'd it go that weekend? Perhaps a follow up post Donna?**
  
  The best part about a long distance relationship is that you can go chunks of time without worrying about maintaining the illusion that you are nearly hairless on most of your body. While I don't ever subscribe to the fully shaved pubes, I do like to keep them tidy when I'm getting ready for a weekend bedroom marathon.
  
  I was doing just that the other day, getting ready to go see my man, who, honestly, probably wouldn't care one way or the other whether I had trimmed in preparation for him or not. Here's how it goes:
  
  I get out the trimmers and start doing my thing. It's been a VERY long day, I'm exhausted, and with one slip of the wrist everything changes. There, about an inch northeast of ecstasy, is a nearly bald spot. DAMN S**T F**K HELL STUPID F**KING F**K S**T. I go to the mirror to inspect the damage. Since we're always more critical of ourselves, I'm sure it's the most obvious thing in the world.
  
  First things first, can I cover it? I start manipulating the rest of the hair around it to try and cover it up. Marginal success. There's really nothing else I can do. I refuse to shave it all off to cover up my mishap.
  
  It's late, I go to bed and decide to discuss it with the roommate in the morning. Meanwhile I think about how I can keep my guy from seeing it. Is this going to be a lights-off, dark-of-night sex only weekend? No daytime fun? That doesn't sound good...
  
  My roommate assures me that it's not noticeable, especially when I manipulate the surrounding hair.
  
  And that is how I created the pubic comb-over.
• February 05, 2009
• 9:54

  Dating Is Weird Gets Reviewed!

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

  Tags:    [edit]

  So it's happened. A self-described "critical blog analysis" blog-review blog reviewed us. Wha? Yeah, exactly. A blog about blogs reviewed our blog. Stupid blogosphere.
  
  But get this! They didn't like us.
  
  They said things like:
  
  "The main problem is that the stories aren't crazy or over the top enough. I know some really strange stuff happens in the world of dating, I just know it! It's just not getting reported, obviously. The sort of stuff you'll find on Dating is Weird is your average, every-day kind of weirdness. Yes, the stories are strange... But they're very believable. When I read a blog like this I wanna be like 'He did what!?' and 'She touched what!?' and 'No way!'"
  
  They also said, "This blog journals hundreds of strange / bizarre / funny / 'zazzy' dating stories."
  
  First of all, what the f**k is zazzy? Does anyone know? Can someone help me out? Cause maybe I'm so boring and lame and too believable to know what zazzy implies.
  
  And secondly, hundreds? Um no. We just broke 100 stories here at Dating Is Weird. If you're going to review a blog critically, get your facts right. Maybe I'm just a stickler for accuracy, call me General Eric Shinseki, but it's not hard to count to 100. I just did and it only took a minute.
  
  And finally (though I could go on) if the stories here are the "average, every-day kind of weirdness" of dating, thank f**king god I'm not dating you Drew. Because pissing the bed, farting while going down on a girl, going on a date with a homeless bum and s**tting in the hood of your ski suit while trying to pick up a snow bunny are NOT average, every day type of events.
  
  Thanks for the review though!
  
  P.S. In the email he sent me, he said and I quote verbatim, "Your blog has been reviewed! Again, I wouldn't take the review too seriously. Enjoy"
  
  Good thing even they don't take themselves seriously.
• February 04, 2009
• 8:05

  Three ways to confuse the Serial Monogamist

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

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  1) Go out on one date. At the end of the date, ask for date two, to which she replies, “Maybe let’s grab a beer sometime, you know, as friends?” Follow up with near daily joke email forwards.
  
  2) Go out on three dates. Get into an argument on date #2 and date #3. When you try to set up date three, and she says, “you know, actually, this is going to sound really strange, but I think not. I’ve met someone, and I think it might go somewhere. You’ve been there, right?” Tell her, of course, yes, sure. Thanks for being honest. "Pocket dial" her that night, so she can hear what sounds like a bar in the background. When she texts, asking if that pocket dial was intentional, ignore her. Then, weeks later, send her a text, just saying hi and wondering how she is.
  
  3) Go out on two dates. Try to make date three. When she explains that while you seem really nice, you two don’t seem to be a match, tell her she’s “wrong.” Then continue for weeks afterward to send emails and texts. Continue this even after you’ve sent a text that says, “Hey stranger, how are you doing?” and she replies, “Good. I’m seeing someone.”
  
  Isn’t it OK to just stop talking to someone you went out with just a few times, after it’s clearly, amicably way, way over?
• February 03, 2009
• 8:50

  Strictly Business

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  **Editors' Note: Today's guest post started out as a conversation we had on the phone yesterday with a friend. Quickly realizing he sounded too much like a Craigslist personals ad to not share on DIW, we wrote down what he said.**
  
  So here's how my dating usually goes:
  
  Either I like a woman or she likes me in the romantic way. Rarely is it a two way street. One person feels it much more than the other and it's obvious but not awkward. Or at least, it's not awkward in the we-have-to-have-a-conversation-about-me-having-feelings-for-you sort of way.
  
  It's more like a business negotiation. In fact it usually is. I like to have it over lunch. "Hey, let's talk about us and grab a bite to eat." That way it's no big deal.
  
  You figure out the details like, hey we're going to sleep together from the hours of 12 am and 4 am, we'll call each other typically between 5-8 pm. And outside that, we do our own thing.
  
  But always, always one is secretly wishing it will turn into something more.
  
  So then you sleep together, maybe like 3 times in a row, boom boom boom.
  
  And then you take a break because it gets too serious for one person.
  
  But then you start calling each other again and things return to normal, ie sex, and then you're right back to where you started which is one person wanting more and the other doesn't so then the awkward conversaiton ensues.
  
  I'm done with that crap.
  
  Here's what I'm looking for:
  
  I have good women friends and I value them a lot. I'm not trying to f**k my women friends because that's a horrible idea, so that's why I have to find strange trim instead
  
  So unless my skirt is flipped, i don't want to date you. I want to have sex with you because daminit beating off gets old and sometimes I just want to eat the pie.
  
  That's why I end up seeming like an asshole because I'm like, I'll call you. Between the hours of 12 and 4 am. Sometime in the next three weeks. We already worked that out. In our negotiations. Remember?
  
  So if you're looking for the same, actually just looking for no-strings- attached sex, feel free to drop me a line.
  
  Women who want more need not apply. No seriously do not f**king apply. For really real, just don't.
• February 02, 2009
• 8:57

  Mister, Mister

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

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  Six months after dating a guy for more than a year and suffering from a humiliating and public separation, I was ready to try dating again. I found the perfect guy. He liked to have a good time, but was opposite from my ex in that he was a) nice to me b) could drive, and did c) called and showed up when he said he would.
  
  I had a good time with M. He'd whisk me off to the beach for the day, play me cheesy Bon Jovi songs, and generally was just a nice guy to be around.
  
  Things started to go south when I realized that he was MUCH more feminine than I am. I'd show up at his place for a date, and sit on the couch for 30 minutes while he tried to figure out what to wear. He'd come out with two shirts, hold them up, and ask my opinion.
  
  "That one," I'd quickly say.
  
  He'd hustle back into his room, then 5 minutes later come out with the shirt I'd picked, and a new choice.
  
  "What about these two?"
  
  "The one I picked before," I'd say. At first I thought it was kind of funny.
  
  He primped, he gelled, he shaved more often than I did, and often smelled better. He played cheesy Bon Jovi songs.
  
  As time went on I became less amused and more terse with him, which wasn't fair on my part.
  
  Finally, after a couple months of dating, we parted on good terms.
  
  Not 4 months later the news came. M is gay. I heard it through the grapevine. It was so obviously true. I haven't seen him more than twice since then, we both went our separate ways, but to me he seems to have really found himself. Seems more comfortable in his skin. I don't know if he always knew and just tried to hide it because of the right-wing redneck town we lived in, or what.
  
  I like to tell myself that even if he did know, my being a tad bitchy at times pushed him over the edge of wanting to give it a go with women. I'm probably giving myself too much credit. Either way, I was the last girl he ever had sex with.
• January 29, 2009
• 9:06

  A Portrait of a Date

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  **Editors' Note: Today's guest post came in from she who wishes to remain anonymous. Fine by us, just keep 'em coming.**
  
  It was a funny date. Not funny "ha ha," but funny "mildly awkward." Just not a really good match, but still a decent time. And the making out was good, so that's sort of how I ended up at my suitor's house. Then he made gin and tonics, and then he was obviously too drunk to drive, and it was late, and I didn't want to deal with waiting for a cab in his far-flung borough, so I decided to sleep at his house. Now, I could have slept in the guest room, or made him sleep in the guest room, but please. That's ridiculous. So I let him know that there would be no pants-off partying, and that I would figure out an exit if that was a problem.
  
  "No, no, stay, I'll be good," he slurrily promised. And this guy was basically a frigging boy scout, so I trusted him. As well I should have. He didn't try a thing … until the next morning. And what he tried was very convincing, as it didn't involve the removal of clothing on his part. So I accepted his offer, but I still had no interest in what he was packing.
  
  When he got out of bed, he was sad, mopey, even a bit mooney faced. I, of course, felt wonderfully sleepy, glowy, etc. He moped into bathroom to take a (presumably cold) shower. I rolled over and nuzzled deeper into the blankets. He turned on the radio. Over the water I heard the whiny warble of Morrisey cry out, which seemed entirely, hilariously appropriate to me.
• January 28, 2009
• 7:20

  On exes

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

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  From Shannon Wheeler, Portland-based creator of Too Much Coffee Man (please buy his book):
  
  "My ex was over the other day and we were chatting about our cats.
  
  My cat was being her usual friendly self. She noticed how grey my cat had become and she said 'at least she's friendly'. She went on to tell me how her cat is psycho. It goes from friendly to psycho-killer without warning. She said it just isn't worth the risk petting her. It surprised me that that she could tell me all this seemingly without irony."
  
  Me, I'm just relieved that I finally deleted the little "People you may know!" box on myspace enough times that my ex no longer pops up, trying to be my "friend." Also, can't his new girlfriend take a new profile picture of him?
• January 27, 2009
• 1:31

  telephones and people do, fortunately, die

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

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  her cellphone died the day the bombings happened.
  
  where it used to say: This is Rebecca. Leave a message at the beep.
  it now said: The subscriber you are trying to reach has been disconnected or...
  
  she could have been anywhere; India is a big place. but i didn't sleep for almost three days. living on online news sites, looking for the names of the dead. every time i lied down the same thought thought itself. repeatedly. and guilt or fear would pull me from bed to google her name again and again like i've done so many times before. even called her parents but they, thankfully, didn't answer. didn't think of what i would have said if they had... Remember me? I used to date your daughter? Is she dead?
  
  that same thought that thought itself: FINALLY.
  so many things made easier by one little event; one stopped pulse.
  
  not the obvious things.
  obviously, it would make more sense why i have my answering machine sitting on my nightstand. i have no landline and, of all the women who have slept next to that little machine with its red light lit with a digital 2, only one has hit PLAY to conjure Rebecca's voice from 10+ years ago into the room. it would have been easier to say: That's my X who died and that's all I have left of her. rather than: Sometimes I get lonely and like to listen to the voice of the only woman I've loved. no woman likes to hear you're lonely when lying next to you; even less-so if the remedy is on the opposing side of the bed.
  
  and obviously it would free me.
  whatever part of me she had locked inside of her would be scattered into as many pieces as her body--- blown to the wind to be inhaled by any one/where. so i lost some sleep thinking i could finally walk streets i've never known and feel like i could fall in love with anyone instead of feeling like it abandoned the city just before i got there.
  
  but, mostly, i lost sleep over little things.
  pulling out old photos. re-re-re-re-re-reading old love letters. questioning: do i call mutual friends? when would the funeral be? could i give the eulogy? her father liked me, knew me to be the kind of guy who would call 411 at 04.00, drunk, and get the listing of every Rebecca Smith in the state of Oregon to dial them all one-by-one instead of disturbing him and his wife. why couldn't i give the eulogy?
  
  so much time spent on the eulogy. my masterpiece. a requiem written in three weeks. long past the time a funeral would have been held--- but no mutual friends had heard from her or her family. so maybe it could still be given or performed or published or...?
  
  one week after it was finished, she called.
  to ask how Prague and my travels were--- to tell me about hers.
  and i had to tell her i would kill her myself if she ever was in a bombed country, domestic or foreign, and didn't call within a week to let me know she was alive. she laughed it off, asking: Did you worry I was dead? and i answered honestly: No, I didn't worry...
• January 25, 2009
• 20:24

  i'm so blue...

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  recently my girlfriend and i had a series of brief grope, kiss, and grind sessions. due to time and place, none of them culminated in anything other than a heightened sense of arousal. while the encounters were warm, tender and very enjoyable, the lack of a climactic finish left me with a serious case of blue balls. now, the girl fancies herself a bit of an authority on human anatomy and physiology and she immediately dismissed my uncomfortable situation by discrediting the entire existence of the blue balls phenomenon. while i respect her knowledge of all things biological, i know for a fact that blue balls happen and i assured her that should she poll other guys, they would undoubtedly confirm my belief. come on fellas, help me out. weigh in on this one.
• January 22, 2009
• 11:25

  Friends Forever?

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  **Editors' Note: This guest post comes in from a gal who wishes to remain nameless. Fine by us, just keep 'em coming!**
  
  I need to stop f**king all of my single, male friends. Pretty soon I'm not going to have any left.
  
  I don't know why it happens or how it happens. Well, actually I have a pretty good idea of why – they know me and I know them and it's comfortable. And, thinking about it, the how too – alcohol is usually involved. Is there some kind of underlying sexual tension with some of those single, male friends that just sometimes, on the right night and the right conditions (or wrong ones), just erupt?
  
  A history:
  
  1. A really good friend who I worked with and got close to over cigarette breaks. He was leaving town to move back to his homeland and his last night on earth…well, yeah. Since then we haven't been able to keep the friendship. I still really want to be friends, but it doesn't seem to be working.
  
  2. Another friend about this time last year, not as close but still designated as a pal. This one hit me sideways, I wasn't expecting it to happen and it happened again and again quite a few times, on those certain nights. He left town too.
  
  3. And just recently, a good friend that I have known for years and hang out with on occasion. I am currently in the process of trying to figure out how to approach this one – should I be honest and tell him the truth? I think he wants to get to know me better and he is a great guy, but I'm not sure if I want to start anything serious. How can I keep the friendship? Does it have to change our relationship?
  
  Maybe I just need to start going out to bars more.
• January 21, 2009
• 9:18

  How Not To Pick Up A Snowbunny

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  **Editors' Note: This guest post came in today from a Marine who prefers to remain nameless. We don't blame him.**
  
  Years ago I was a marine stationed in Southern California. We did lots of things in our time off, most of them centered on finding girls and then trying to f--k them. Sexist and rude yes, but we were marines after all.
  
  One weekend some buddies and I planned a snowboarding trip to a nearby ski resort. True to form, the intent was not really to snowboard (none of us were all that good anyway) but to lure sexy snowbunnies back to our cheap hotel room and yes, try to f--k them.
  
  At any rate, we got up to the resort, rented our gear and donned our makeshift ski wear. My buddies wore U.S. issued fatigues and laughed at me as I stepped into my insulated one-piece Carhartt suit. Franky, I thought it had a certain honest, everyman appeal. The morning progressed and sure enough, we did locate and team up with a crew of attractive gals. We shared lift rides, chatted a bit as we cruised easy runs, and overall, things were looking good for our ultimate intentions.
  
  At some point mid-day I ducked into the trees at the side of a run to answer natures call, i.e. take a big s--t. I felt a bit rushed as I saw my buddies disappearing down the hill with the girls and knew that they had absolutely no reservations about ditching me for the rest of the day in the hopes of improving the odds with the ladies. I finished up, stepped back into my board and bombed the hill, getting to the gondola line just in time to cut my way up to our party as they crammed their way into the crowed gondola car.
  
  The door shut and up we went. The first thing I noticed was that I was located directly under the heat vent and hot air was blasting me. The second thing was the distinct smell of human s--t. Very soon it became evident that other people noticed it too.
  
  Comments began circulating: Dude! Smell that s--t? Bro! Who S--t themselves?! Clearly, I was the culprit. I checked my boots - all clear. My gloves - all clear. Snowboard - clear. Pants cuffs - clear. A glimmer of hope emerged. Maybe I wasn't the offender.
  
  The ladies were obviously grossed out and embarrassed by the whole thing and by this point the warm air and intense reek had them breathing into their elbows. I knew we just had to get to the top and get out of this damn gondola into some fresh mountain air where I could do a more thorough check of my gear. Ah! the lift shack at the top of the line was in sight, just a few moments more and I was home free!
  
  Suddenly, from just over my shoulder, my buddy, my buddy, the f--ker that was supposed to look out for me, put his life on the line for me in battle, yells, no bellows at the top of his lungs -Dude! Dude! YOU S--T IN YOUR HOOD!!!! HE S--T IN HIS HOOD!!! and proceeds to begin laughing his ass off. He is very quickly joined by most of the other people in the gondola. Except of course, the snowbunnies.
  
  The look on their faces was textbook disgust and embarrassment. A few moments later, the gondola docks, the doors open and the crowd stampedes out amidst laughter and nasty comments about the hygiene of the US marine corp. My friends are literally rolling on the ground, not even observing, or caring about for that matter, the rapid disappearance of our quarry. I admit, at this point I found the humor in the whole situation as well and joined in with belly laughs of my own. We spent the rest of the day reliving the gondola ride and pounding beers in the lodge, of course, only after I had ditched my trusty Carhartt suit.
• January 19, 2009
• 7:50

  Hitting On A Married Woman

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

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  **Editors' Note: This guest post came in late last night. I happened to be around for this one (funny how often that happens) and was one of the unfortuante fools suffering the Nikki-Six wannabe. After reading this, I'm glad I got him and not the ass hitting on the married chick.**
  
  
  Dating may be weird, but believe it or not … marriage can be pretty damn bizarre, as well. But those are stories for a whole 'nuther blog. I've been out of the dating scene for years, and while I do visit the bars (ok, one bar) from time to time I am not usually privy to an insider's look at the dating/pick-up scene in the 21st century. My fortunes changed one evening not long ago.
  
  I met some friends at "the" bar for drinks and conversation. The four of us—three of us female and one male—sat at the bar for a spell, making small talk over our beers and whiskeys. When the linear arrangement of seating made conversation difficult we picked up our drinks and moved down to a table. Things were busy that night, with a table down the way quickly filling with people and growing in size as more tables were dragged over to accommodate the blossoming number of drunks gathering there. They were young, for the most part … and granted I'm older than everyone in this story so a bunch of early-20-somethings made it look like frat-boy night at the bar to me. Though, NONE of these people looked like ever they'd seen a college, let alone a frat house.
  
  The four of us minded our own business, drinking and talking, laughing and drinking more. Eventually the youngsters outgrew their accommodations and went looking for more seats. They found them at our table, and instead of picking the chairs up and dragging them over to their soiree, three of the guys plopped their asses in chairs around our table. At first I was sure one of my companions knew these guys, despite the fact that one of them—the ringleader, it seemed—looked like a Nikki Sixx-wannabe, and the other two looked like they were Nikki Sixx-wannabe wannabes. Aim high, young men … aim high. Needless to say, my companions did not know these boys.
  
  Wannabe One placed himself at the end of the table, between me and my male friend. Wannabe One looked at me and said, "You're married, aren't you?" To which I replied, with a sarcastic flash of my ring finger in front of my face, "Wow, what ever gave you that idea?" Give the young man props for his astuteness. His answer? "Because you're so sexy." Wow again. And thus began Wannabe One's heavy-handed charm … from his sharing of his pay stub with me (he had a job!) to his drunken slurring of my name whenever he could fit it in a sentence. Boy was all of 24 chronologically, but not a day over 16 emotionally. At the end of the table, one of my girlfriends was getting the suave treatment by Nikki Sixx-wannabe and Wannabe Two. At one point Nikki Sixx-wannabe looked at me, trying for his best deep and smoky look, and asked, "Where are you from?"
  
  So I'm from California … I don't always share it up front because I get some ribbing for it, but with this guy I was more than willing to do some verbal sparing. "California," I said. "Ah, me too," said Nikki, sealing our common bond, "I'm from Huntington Beach." "Oh," I replied, "Huh. I'm from Northern California … we don't typically like the SoCal bunch."
  
  And what do you do when a woman makes a point to show she has no interest in who you are or where you're from? You try to impress her with your rock-star credentials, of course. "I'm just up here with my band," says Nikki. "Oh?," I say, "What's the name of your band?" To which he replies:
  
  "Slut."
  
  Honest to god. (No, this is not the same band as the German band Slut … in case you music lovers were wondering.) "You must get a lot of girls with that," says my girlfriend who's been stuck with these two hacks hovering over her. But they still don't get the hint. Obviously our acid is not acidic enough. Finally, after disturbing our peace for a good 20 minutes, Nikki Sixx-wannabe asks, "So, what are you guys doing tonight?" To which my friend and I look at each other and reply dryly and in unison: "This."
  
  They didn't run away immediately, but they apparently heard chastity belts locking because they pulled back on their assault, slowly filtering back into their own crowd of hairspray, black leather and ear piercings. We continued with our night.
  
  I told my husband the story when I got home, and he just laughed. Which, on one hand, was nice … he wasn't going to blow a gasket over me being at a bar with random losers hitting on me. On the other hand, he could have shown a little concern. I mean, really? Your wife is at a dive bar and you have zero territorial instincts when you hear she's been hit upon? That's just one way in which marriage is weird. But again, that's a story for another blog.
• January 16, 2009
• 8:09

  Henry Rollins Hates Dating

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

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  I love you Henry. And I promise I hate Nickleback too.
• January 14, 2009
• 10:21

  Dating in the Social Networking Era

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  My new beau recently changed his Facebook status to "In a Relationship." The gesture, while very cute and much appreciated, was a bit weird for me for several reasons:
  
  1. Multiple women commented on the change with notes like "lucky girl!" or "and hearts break around the nation" and "I second lucky girl!" among other flirty, innocuous compliments. I know he's a good looking dude and women hit on him wherever he goes, I just didn't realize he had fans around the nation waiting in line..
  
  2. My status is and will remain "Whatever I can get" as that option no longer exists for new Facebookers. Having joined this little social networking phenomenon when it was open only to college students, I was given that option in my relationship status choices and me being me, will now and forever be looking for whatever I can get. (Note: it's actually one of the few things in my life that even remotely resembles a trophy case...unless you were around in the beginning, you can never have that status. I was, therefore I do, in your face! Yes, stupid and immature and awesome. Whatever.)
  
  But this is the first time that I've ever been in an actual relationship while on Facebook, and so is there some sort of dating rule about updating your social networking relationship status? Am I inadvertently sending a message about my feelings by NOT updating? The whole thing weirds me out a little.
  
  3. His sister, who is NOT on Facebook, texted him a few days later to tell him she heard about his relationship status update. What? Really?
  
  
  I talked to him about it, mostly to let him know that while I'm very much into him, I won't be changing my relationship status. Thankfully, he was alright with that.
• January 11, 2009
• 18:27

  You get ONE

   » ‎ Dating Is Weird

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  How I ended up in a bedroom making out with two guys is not the part of the evening I remember. It doesn't matter. These fellows were friends (of mine and with each other). Hot friends. I had a crush on one, and really wanted to be dating him.
  I do remember that we got into the room and started fooling around. I tell you, it's not everyday that you've got one guy working the boobs and another making out with you. It's not the worst way to be, either.
  
  I knew the one I didn't have a crush on had a girlfriend. Since we hung out together often, I had to deal with his certifiably crazy girlfriend on a regular basis. I did not consider her a friend. I was nice to her, though, because life is easier that way.
  I also knew that she was in the other room sleeping. In my experience, if you don't want to deal with a crazy girlfriend, you let her continue to sleep. You don't wake her up to ask if you can have a threesome with her boyfriend and his frat bro.
  (Yes, they were frat boys. More stereotypical beef-head football players, but whatever. They were very nice, very cute boys.)
  
  We didn't get to the really fun stuff because we got interrupted. Apparently crazy girls sleep lightly.
  She screamed crazy-girl nonsense. We listened to her scream. I put my shirt back on and we all went to leave so I could go home and the boys could get on with their evening. She slapped me once. I kind of smiled (I'd been having a good night until she came in so I was in a good mood). She earned that slap, but she only got one. If she would have tried it again I would have punched her in the face. But I was making out with her boyfriend so she got so slap me.
  
  As I was walking out the door she said something like, "We're not friends anymore."
  I was irritated at being interrupted and did not give a s--t about her. I turned to her and said in a voice oozing with sarcasm, "Dang it," and walked out the door.
  
  I remained good friends with both the boys. Crazy-girl's relationship ended... eventually.
  
  Dang it.