Category Archives: dating

The Kate Middleton, Downton Abbey, Nerd Glasses Trifecta

I think I stopped blogging last December for two reasons:

1) I ran out of things to say. Every post from basically August through December should suffice as proof of this.
2) I was busy. Moving then Christmas then New Orleans happened.

However, I’m currently less busy since New Orleans is now my regular life instead of my dream life. I mean, it’s still my dream life, but it finally has a regular rhythm. Also, the fact that I’ve been talking people to death about everything lately probably means that I have a lot to say again.

Although, Saturday is kind of a bad day to re-start blogging because there’s definitely a void when it comes to pressing matters and things of interest. Regardless, I think this will be a good baby step.

1) First, Kate Middleton is unfairly gorgeous just five weeks after giving birth to Prince George. I mean, the day after he was born, she was INSANELY PERFECT for having just given birth, but I thought that maybe that was just some kind of fluke. I’m pretty sure the universe bestows a one-time gift on everyone where you get to look amazing in the most adverse circumstances and I just figured that day was hers. However, during my daily perusal of HuffPost Canada, I came across this.

Goddammit, Kate Middleton. You make the rest of us look like cave trolls. I think it’s obvious that the biggest perk of being a princess is that you somehow get to avoid looking totally slovenly while you’re the mom of a newborn. Royalty must still employ fairy godmothers because real magic is the only explanation for this. NO ONE (seriously NO ONE) looks that good 5 weeks after childbirth.

Postpartum Kate Middleton looks better at a surprise public appearance at some random marathon than the rest of us ever will in our entire lives.

2) Second, the season 4 trailer for Downtown Abbey is out. Thank the heavens. It looks like it’s going to be the best season ever.

I think I’m the only person who was unaffected by whats-his-face’s death at the end of last season. To be totally transparent here, I never really cared for that dude. He had zero personality and the only time in three whole seasons I was ever like, “Okay, this guy’s kinda alright,” was when he took progressive measures to turn the estate around. Plus, the new guy that the trailer seems to suggest is Mary’s next love interest looks totally dashing.

To everyone who was completely in love with what’s-his-face for God knows what reason and was beyond/shocked crushed when he died, I say “Get over it. The show is going to be 1,000x better without him.” Keep in mind that the writers only wrote him out and killed him off because the actor who played him wanted to leave the show. I’m sure that secretly he was like, “My character sucks in every way and I basically have to wake up every day to go be the equivalent of a plain potato in the ethnic aisle of the grocery store right now. I’m over it. For the love of God, let my character die in a car accident at the breakneck speed of 15 MPH or something.”

Just watch that last episode again if you don’t believe me.

“I feel like I’ve swallowed a box of firecrackers.”
– something a person with zero personality says when their kid is born

3) Third, let’s talk about nerd glasses. Remember when you could go out with a guy who wears nerd glasses and it was safe to assume that he was a dorky good person and not a total douchebag? I do. And I seriously regret taking those days for granted because within the last 12 months, shit got real.

As a woman who basically develops an instant crush on every nerd glasses wearer (extra points if they’re tortoiseshell), the fact that times have changed presents a serious challenge.

Since EVERYONE wears them now that they’re “fashionable” instead of dorky, it has become way more difficult to separate the good from the bad in an efficient manner.

Let’s examine this from a bit of a historical perspective. At first, hipsters started the nerd glasses trend to go with the rest of their “ironic/uncool” statement pieces. The birth of this was going on around 2005, I think. Despite their similar spectacles, it was easy to separate the hipsters from the dorks because hipsters had a clearly defined style that identified them as such (in spite of doing everything they could to not have a clearly defined style, of course).

However, almost a decade later, since hipsters have become “cool” like they’ve always secretly wanted to be, nerd glasses have basically taken over. And since nerd clothes and nerd glasses-wearing douchebag clothes are not really too different, you actually have to seriously interrogate people before you agree to go out with them.

Side note: I’m obviously not talking about the graphic-T wearing type of douchebag here because those are still very easy to spot. I’m talking about the ones who wear button downs and chinos with sneaks and things like that.

The worst part is that I’m sure a ton of the douchebags previously got Lasik eye surgery and are therefore wearing non-prescription nerd glasses. That’s going out of your way to be a douche masquerading as a nerd. Something that’s used functionally by some people should never be used as an accessory to other people who don’t need to use it functionally, in my opinion.

And actually, if you think about it, douchebags have kind of adopted a lot of the “nerd casual” style. (I just coined that phrase. Contact me for permission to use it, fashion bloggers.) Sneakers with semi-nice clothes were a nerd invention. You used to expect that from people who were sitting around working out physics formulas in the lab and not people who hit on other people’s girlfriends while they have a girlfriend of their own to prove that they still “have game” and things like that.

Especially now that hipsters have reintroduced plaid to the world, there are literally zero defining style lines between douchebag and nerd. It’s like hipsters took facets of nerd casual and then, along with the inspiration of vintage looks, homeless people, overpriced 80s/90s style championed by American Apparel, and whatever socioeconomic/cultural subset weird hats come from, they incorporated it into their eclectic “I don’t care” look and then got cool enough to ruin every distinction between nerd and douchebag because douchebags wanted to further their “avant-garde, but retro/uncool” coolness like the hipsters had going on and the douchebags ultimately adopted the nerd-derived trends. #extremerunonsentence

Since nerds don’t pay attention to any of this, they’re just going about their daily lives without realizing that they look like all the cool people and if they do realize that they look like all the cool people, they don’t care enough to differentiate themselves since the whole premise behind nerd casual is that you just don’t give a crap (and it’s not in the hipster “I’m trying to look like I just don’t give a crap, but I actually care way more than anyone ever” way). Nerds weren’t uncool because they were anti-cool. Nerds were uncool because the world said they were uncool.

Anyway, what happens now is that when I encounter a guy in nerd glasses, my brain is totally confused. The part with sense is like “You can’t judge a person based on his glasses anymore,” but the part that’s still wired to the previous norm just entirely ignores the sense part. Perhaps douchebags have figured this out. Maybe they know that they can ride the “I’m a nice guy” first impression for a long time before we discover the truth sometimes. It’s a strategy. Nerd glasses should never be part of a strategy.

I need nerds to temporarily and uncharacteristically take a fashion stand and reclaim their glasses ASAP and I also need douchebags to move on to something else. I feel like I’m living in the Men in Black world where aliens are disguised as people.

The weekend consequences are always severe. I have to come up with excuses to prematurely/abruptly exit a lot of situations. The worst part is that since I’m so on edge, sometimes I mistake a nerd for a douchebag at the slightest indication of any minor douchey behavior. (This was the entire month of May 2013)

It’s a messed up apocalyptic world we’re living in, people. Elitist/misogynistic douchebags now parade around like they’re dorks with hearts of gold.

I don’t know if this is fixable and/or it’s just something that will pass in time. However, I do know that with a present solution, every woman with this problem needs to up her game and be extra careful. Stay smart. Stay strong. #solidarity

This Is How You Send Me An OkC Message That I Definitely Won’t Respond To

I like a lot of what your profile has to say. I only worry a lithe thing like you might be too active for a homebody like me. I’m not a paleontologist but I wanted to be one when I was seven and amazed everyone with my knowledge of dino-names. Soccer is boring. but so is football and baseball. I’m all about stupid jokes, and in Alabama we canoe. Kayaking is a good way to tip in gator-water.Halloween is my favorite Christian holiday, but I never got a taste for beer. Been wanting to try some Christmas beer though.

Ok… pro tip: If you’re trying to get someone to like you/respond/hang out with you/etc, you don’t want to emphasize the things you don’t have in common. Eventually those will come up, of course. But, right off the bat, you don’t want to be like “Our lifestyles are different in these 500 ways.” You’re supposed to emphasize why you’d get along/be compatible/have fun together/etc. and include maybe one or two things that are potentially conflicting. Because it’s almost equally as annoying when a guy is like “It sounds like we’re the same in almost every way!” That threatens my sense of individual identity. And also makes the guy sound like he probably has no personality of his own. And also makes him sound like he’s a huge pussy who spends his life overbearingly trying to please girls and make them happy which is maybe the single most annoying trait to find in a guy.

Let’s break this down:

“I only worry a lithe thing like you might be too active for a homebody like me.” Your supposition is probably correct. And that makes you sound lazy and boring. Don’t message me.

“Soccer is boring. but so is football and baseball.” Soccer is my LIFE and football is super important, too. And it’s very clear from my profile that I’m a huge soccer/football/sports fan so if you actively don’t like them, you know that we’re not going to have a lot of things in common. Don’t message me, lazy/boring/non-sports fan.

“…in Alabama we canoe.” That’s not true. In Alabama, I’ve gone kayaking more times with Alabamians than I’ve gone canoeing with Alabamians. Don’t message me, lazy/boring/incorrect/non-sports fan.

“Kayaking is a good way to tip in gator-water.” Universal truth: canoes are easier to tip than kayaks. This guy OBVIOUSLY does not get out much because everyone knows that. It’s SO DIFFICULT to tip a kayak. You really have to be trying. Also, this makes him seem like he’s the type of guy who never shares drinks with people for fear of getting their germs, and always drives the speed limit for safety reasons, and never has any fun ever if it involves even a 1% chance of something bad happening. Don’t message me, lazy/boring/even more incorrect/unadventurous/anal/uptight/anxious/non-sports fan.

“Halloween is my favorite Christian holiday but I never got a taste of beer.” Those are two unrelated thoughts. Put them in separate sentences. And Halloween is not really a Christian holiday anymore and it actually has Pagan roots that predate the Christian influence. So, anytime someone refers to it as such, my opinion of them is immediately a little worse. Also, if we say that the #1 pastime/interest in my life is comprised of sports and being active, then it’s true that good beer is a close #2. Why point out that you hate everything I love if you’re trying to get me to respond to you? This guy probably orders a vodka cranberry at the bar. Don’t message me, lazy/boring/even more incorrect/unadventurous/anal/uptight/anxious/non-beer drinking/non-sports fan.

We obviously wouldn’t have a shred of affinity for one another.

I guess he did technically start off with, “I like a lot of what your profile has to say.” But when normal guys send a message, they expound upon that part instead of the negatives.

Easily one of the worst messages I’ve ever gotten. If that’s how this guy tries to get a girl to be interested, he’s gonna be forever alone. Also, EVERYONE wanted to be a paleontologist when they were seven. I forgot to include that part up there.

Dating In The Bible Belt

OkCupid in Pittsburgh is a good way to meet people and have fun and I had moderate success with it last fall.

OkCupid in Mobile is confusing. Dating in the bible belt isn’t gonna work for me. I knew that in February but I decided to try again to fill the recently reopened void.

Real answers to real questions from real people:

Q: Do you think homosexuality is a sin?
A: Yes I think it is a sin if we define sin by the bible because it does say that but I don’t have a problem with gay people. I have gay friends and honestly think gay marriage should be legal. So yes I do think the bible considers it a sin but it also says the same about lieing or breaking mans laws such as speeding and we all sin I mean… We are human.

Q: Do you believe contraception is morally wrong?
A: Morally, yes. But until it is time for a ring, contraception is a must.

That second guy listed sex as one of the 6 things he can’t live without.

At least they’re trying?

And I respect people’s right to different opinions. But I can’t date people with different opinions like those. Especially confusing/astonishing/mystifying opinions.

I’m a 54% match with almost everyone here. In Pittsburgh, it’s rare that I’m below 75%.

But then again, OkC really does attract the weirdos no matter where you are. For every one good guy on OkC Pittsburgh, there were 30 weird ones. So maybe these guys aren’t really representative of all the eligible men here. But being that I don’t have time to really live a life outside of nursing school, it’s my only option.

In my dream life, I meet a guy during summer kickball and we fall in love and live happily ever after. In my real life, I’m hesitant to sign up for fear of the Alabama heat. And the fact that my summer clinical schedule is yet to be determined.

I think I’m also just having a weak moment. Because last week at this time, all I wanted to do was be single. But then there was the altercation with the ex. And now I’m broken and lonely all over again.

Really, I don’t even want to be with someone in a relationship. I just want to flirt with someone. And watch superhero movies on the couch with intermittent periods of making out.

In the 24 hour period between Monday and Tuesday night, I watched Iron Man, Iron Man 2, The Incredible Hulk, Captain America, and Thor by myself. And drank a fifth of whiskey (that probably happened in 12 hours or less) by myself. And at the end of this week, I’m probably going to go see The Avengers by myself.

Forever alone. Lolo Jones is my inspiration for being able to embrace and then publicly admit these things.

While trying to console myself by looking for New Orleans apartments on Craigslist (because I know for a fact that NOLA men are better because I’ve experienced it), I found out that during my whiskey palooza I was looking at apartments in Austin. What the hell, subconscious?

I mean, to be fair, I have more or less decided that Austin is what comes after New Orleans. Austin is where grown-up liberals who like hot weather and good music and a laid-back atmosphere go to live. So when I’m a grown-up liberal, that’s where I’ll be. But the 25 year old version of myself is headed straight to NOLA until I’m ready to act like I’m 28.

Sadly, drunk Liz was apparently skipping ahead a little bit on Monday night.

Ugh. I just need to get back into my groove.

This is a perfect summary of my life leading up to the post-afterparty situation on Saturday night.

Except my ex isn’t an innocent feeble old man. And I don’t have the power to have anyone thrown out the window.

Stress About America, Not Marriage

So… State of the Union drinking game… I got a little too drunk. Thank goodness we didn’t have class today. Before you judge me, keep in mind that the outlook has been kind of bleak as of late. Empty promises and false hope all across the board. It’s a difficult thing to stomach without significant intoxication.

The weird thing about my drunk habits is that I always overdress for bedtime. On a sober night, I just sleep in undies and a t-shirt. After a drunk night, I wake up wearing every article of clothing I own. This morning, I got out of bed wearing my Steelers sweats, an IUP t-shirt, and a Penn State hoodie. My intoxicated dressing habits indicate that I’m subconsciously missing the homeland A LOT.

Speaking of home…

‘Cause it’s a long and rugged road
And we don’t know where it’s headed
But we know it’s gonna get us where we’re going
And when we find what we’re looking for
We’ll drop these bags and search no more
‘Cause it’s gonna feel like heaven when we’re home
– The Wailin’ Jennys

Relevant (from 10/2/11): Maybe I need to go everywhere not because I’m a transient non-settler but because I actually believe in home and settling more than anything so I’m desperately searching for exactly the right place?

And the truth is I’ve been dreaming of some tired tranquil place
Where the weather won’t get trapped inside my bones
And if all these years of searching, I find one sympathetic face
Then it’s there I’ll plant these seeds and make my home
– June on the West Coast, Bright Eyes

Yep. More than three months later, I can conclude that the previous sentiment was, in fact, an accurate assessment.

This is also why I have real problems with even getting to the point of considering a relationship with a guy. I mean, some of that does have to do with the Matt disaster, but even before him, I refused to date anyone seriously because I just didn’t like any of them enough. I’m picky, but it’s because I believe in passionate living way too much. And I’m not going to settle down in a place or with a person until I know it’s absolutely worthwhile… in that it has the potential to be exactly right.

A huge part of me knows that home is Pittsburgh because I guess that’s my ultimate goal but there’s obviously something else that’s pulling me away from Pittsburgh and making me need to explore everything. Maybe it’s so I know, with certainty, that Pittsburgh is the place? Maybe I have to know for certain that what I’m looking for isn’t someplace else and that it was in Pittsburgh the whole time. Or I guess the other possibility is that it isn’t Pittsburgh and that’s the reason I left. Which makes me sad because I want it to be Pittsburgh. But obviously, the reason I didn’t stay is because my soul is in search of something else. Or maybe Pittsburgh is the place but I’m subconsciously in search of the person to establish a sense of home with. I don’t know. All I know is that I’m here in Mobile right now. And probably half starting over in New Orleans next January. And then going from there.

It’s hard to feel panicked about anything when you don’t even know what it is that you’re looking for.

And the fact that girls are starting to become afraid of the fact that they might end up as a lonely crazy cat lady with a tedious life is insanity to me. First of all, I would never let my life become lonely because I inherently just stumble across good people who become my lifelong friends. Secondly, I’m never going to have cats. I generally hate them. I might be a crazy dog lady, I guess. That doesn’t even sound so bad though. Thirdly, tedious? Yeah, that’s not gonna happen either. I don’t know how it’s possible to feel like life is uneventful when there’s so much to do and see. And there are always ways you can channel your boredom into helping other people also.

So, I guess even in the worst case scenario of perpetually being single until I die, life still seems pretty damn awesome. Still getting a boat no matter what happens. And having the time and resources and lack of obligations to allow me to actually travel the world regularly seems awesome too. Life is what you make of it. Don’t be stressing about how you feel like you’re not going to get what you want. Make it what you want, no matter what the situation is.

Plus, I feel like all guys our age are just developmentally behind in some way. They don’t have the same values or motivation. I’m tired of babysitting. But I’m not ready to date 30 year olds either. Maybe in another 3-4 years I will be. We’ll see what happens.

So, all that stress that’s out there… I just don’t feel it or understand it. I really really have no idea why everyone else is FREAKING OUT about this. Let’s all just relax, ladies. Don’t define yourself by the existence of men in your life. Live it up. That’s what our twenties were for. Honestly, once you have that first kid, your little black dresses will never look the same, if you can even fit back into them at all. And you won’t have time to go out and wear them either. I’m really seeing no perks of being married right now. It all seems like one big disadvantage to me. Date men, yes. Marry them, no. Freak out about not being married, DEFINITELY NOT.

I’m About To Go Cytotoxic On This Test

That’s accelerated nursing program speak for “I’m about to tear this shit up,” and a quote from the kid who sits behind me. He made that statement right before the Patho exam bomb dropped. But I’m pretty sure that as soon as we actually saw the exam, we all wanted to physically tear that shit up. Like rip it up for real. And then maybe set it on fire. And accidentally burn down the classroom so we’d never have to go back.

Things we had to know everything about for a one hour exam:
– cellular physiology/pathology (middle school easy)
– inflammation
– immunopathology
– neoplasia
– genetic /developmental disorder
– alterations of the nervous system
– fluid disorders
– acid-base balance (A&P easy)
– alterations of the renal system

I got an A again. And was way more prepared for this than the Pharm exam. So I guess I’m getting back into the swing of things. But dammit, I feel like after this is all over, my I’m going to die at 50 years old instead of the predicted 90 years old. I can’t imagine what it’s like to be 90 years old anyway. That’s bananas. I look at Nonnie, who’s 80+, and I have no idea how she acts and looks so young. 24 year old Liz cannot fathom what it will be like to be great-grandmother Liz. I can’t even wrap my brain around what it’s like to be so old that your grandkids have kids. Basically, your kids have grandkids. No matter which way you look at it, that’s pretty mindblowing.

Anyway, there’s another exam tomorrow. And three next week. And projects/papers in between. I seriously keep having to give my body a pep talk. At lunch, it was like “Hey, cells. Here’s some coffee and sugar and a whole wheat bagel. You just gotta survive ’til 4. Go team.”

Now I have to give them another pep talk before we start studying all over again. Can I please get more than three hours of sleep tonight? I feel like I’m in some kind of twisted existential microcosm.


If you want to have a broken heart about life forever, you should watch that movie. If you don’t, stay far far away.

Probably the only thing that’s going to get us through this year is humor which is why I’m in love with all the boys who sit behind me.

Real utterances from two of them after our professor passed around fun size M&Ms…

– She’s trying to give us diabetes.
– Where’s the oxycontin?

Oh, nursing school. Where your professor is still the devil even when she gives you candy. And when you’d much rather have opiates to take away the pain.

I got cream cheese in my hair today. The direct cause was exhaustion.

Plus, my abs hurt like a bitch. And until I sat down at my desk when I got home, I had no idea why. Basically, as soon as my rolling chair rolled off to the side (due to a slight slope in my old hardwood floors) and I used my legs/knees/feet to subconsciously readjust, my abs burned like none other. Mystery solved. It’s a pilates-type movement. I was doing pilates in front of my desk for hours yesterday. I’m not trying to become a titanium muscle monster here because I’m a girl and I love love love being a girl and having awesome curves. People say you can do pilates religiously and still maintain your feminine figure. I’m not so sure. Have you seen Madonna? Isn’t pilates what she does? Pilates and yoga, I think. If there’s a risk that I end up looking like her after doing a lot of pilates and yoga, I’m just gonna stick to my casual runs of a few miles a day and partake in no other form of muscle-strengthening exercise.

Even the running alone already kinda makes it an issue. The last guy I made out with was like, “You’re crushing me with your thighs.” And that’s when I decided that A) we were never going to hang out again and B) I can only date guys who are at least 6’0″ and used to be swimmers, soccer players, or football players. Preferably soccer players. Their lean abs of steel make me melt. Swimmers have lean abs of steel but their triangle bodies kinda weird me out sometimes.

Ok, done blithering. Almost. All I want for dinner is shakshuka but I’m all out of eggs. I kind of want a man slave. Because then I could be like “Man slave, fetch me some eggs,” and he’d be like “As you wish.” Why can’t my dream world be a reality?

Redheads Are The Love Child Of A Volcano And A Tornado

Truth. Sadly, I can’t even begin to refute that. John DeVore knows it’s true. He wrote it.

Another instance of girls being likened to extreme weather and natural disasters:

I wanted so badly to lie down next to her on the couch, to wrap my arms around her and sleep. Not fuck, like in those movies. Not even have sex. Just sleep together, in the most innocent sense of the phrase. But I lacked the courage and she had a boyfriend and I was gawky and she was gorgeous and I was hopelessly boring and she was endlessly fascinating. So I walked back to my room and collapsed on the bottom bunk, thinking that if people were rain, I was drizzle and she was a hurricane.
– John Green, Alaska Young

Mary says I quote things too much in my entries. My brain is actually just a disaster web of everything I’ve ever read or listened to. The excessive quoting can’t be helped. Just like the disaster web can never be untangled and organized.

This post is about redheads, dating, relationships, and John DeVore. Every time I see a new post of his on The Frisky, I stop whatever I’m doing and read it. And generally, I smile the whole way through because they’re hilarious. Yes, I read the Frisky. I’m a girl. If you think it’s an exaggeration that we all sit around and discuss what we read there that day, you’re wrong. (See also: The Gloss and Jezebel)

Here’s the most recent post which spawned this entry. Because I’m a narcissist and because that sentence activated my “oh my God, they’re on to us” sensors, I had to see if he ever wrote anything else about our kind. Easily enough, I found another whole post about it.

After mentioning our “combustible temperaments,” he does throw out this disclaimer:

Every single she-ruby I’ve ever attempted to date has failed to acknowledge my existence, taken a flamethrower to my heart, or disappeared in the morning like a cinnamon mist.

I don’t know, bro. You’re not the only one we’ve ruined.

Of course, there was no third day of hot jungle love, nor any subsequent day thereafter, because she informed me with the emotional detachment of a Vulcan that she was “just exploring” her options.

Eff. Every instance of me being a horrible person comes flooding back. I want to say that I don’t do things like that intentionally and that I’m just naive. No, not true. I think on some level I know what I’m doing and just don’t care. Heartless. I will try to be better. Maybe it’s not a redhead thing. Maybe it’s just a coincidence that I exhibit all evil redhead qualities. Or this could be an instance of the “You’re so vain, I bet you think this blog post is about you, don’t you?” thing. Narcissists make everything personal.

I don’t know if the “redhead personality” is really a bad thing. To call them evil redhead qualities is perhaps too harsh. I see the feistiness as a triumph of spirit.

Out of the ash
I rise with my red hair
And eat men like air.
– Sylvia Plath, Lady Lazarus

Another thing that stuck out in my mind as a rude awakening in terms of my flaws and those of girls in general was this quote from the How We Say “I Love You” (Without Actually Saying, “I Love You”) post.

4. We Swallow Our Fear And Absorb Your Monthly Freak-Outs Like Understanding Man-Sponges
We don’t know why or what we did, but we’re sorry. How about a back massage while you vent about your evil walrus-shaped boss who hates you, that celebrity with the eating disorder who makes you hate yourself, OR your best friend whom you hate because she brags about her perfect, rich boyfriend with the loft and quaff whom everyone knows is in the closet but it doesn’t really matter. Did we mention we’re sorry? And please notice the furrowed brow, pursed lips, and soothing head nod – we’re concentrating on your every word. Seriously, we are. Even if we’re not, appreciate what isn’t being said. Exactly – we’re saying nothing. Let it all out and just know that if anyone were to really threaten you, like a mastodon or terrorists, we’d go all Die Hard on them. But until such a moment, we listen, and do nothing but listen, because we love you.

Humorous. Eye opening. Sweet.

To all the guys of the world, thank you for hanging in there. Thank you for being sponges that absorb all our bullshit. Some of you are assholes (well, a lot of you are assholes) but we’re assholes too. The love and dating game is really just an arduous operation in finding the specific type of asshole that you can tolerate/adore and who can tolerate/adore your asshole-ness as well.

Goodness. Such negative views of life and the world.

John DeVore has a slightly more positive “you have to kiss a lot of frogs before you find the prince” outlook.

The big story of success, in sales or in love, is actually many smaller stories of failures.

Pretty profound. I still haven’t figured out if I’m failing or they’re failing. Maybe I’m failing when they’re not and vice versa. Maybe we’re making each other fail like two reactive elements. Stable on our own but God help us when we get together. Maybe dates and relationships are various shades of those concepts/states at different times.

Here’s what I learned, and it applies to dating. Love is an opportunity. Cold selling anything means you have to have an appetite for rejection. A hunger to fail. A salesman gets rejected 80 percent of the time, but he makes his living from the 20 percent of the time he succeeds.

Every time I was rebuffed by a woman in furs or a man who really didn’t like comedy, I got closer to making a sale. Love is an opportunity and the more you put yourself out there, the luckier you get.

It’s an opportunity and also kind of a chore where hard work and experience pays off? Insight noted.

Marco was talking about this virus concept the other day related to another aspect of dating. It’s been his observation that when people aren’t quite over their ex or previous fling, they have this virus that they got from said person. And when they start dating someone else, they pass it on to this new fling/person so when that lovehate affair ends, the new fling/person stays hung up on the person he/she got it from and then and passes it along to their new fling/person who stays hung up on that person and the cycle continues. My contribution to this theory is that it spreads until we’re all infected and dying.

Marco’s principle is a biblical truth supported by empirical science. (Hypotheses like that are hard to come by.)

That being said, I guess some of us are lucky enough to find the one asshole out there who gives us an immune system boost to fight off the nefarious decay and has the very specific antibody to our very specific disease and we live happily ever after slowly healing with time. I think people from older generations stay together until they die because the virus wasn’t as widespread back then so they never got it. But now we all have it. It’s like HPV. Every time I go to the gynecologist for my yearly checkup, they tell me that if you’ve slept with two people, you probably have it.

With love or infatuation, if you’ve been scorned or rejected twice, you probably have the trojan horse or brain parasite of heartbreak. Tricks you into thinking all is well and you just need to find someone else until you get close enough to them to pass it on. Then it strikes and takes no prisoners. Doomed to destroy each other.

Anyway, play them off, keyboard cat. And by keyboard cat, I mean Weezer.

Any day now, you’ll call me up on the phone
Say you love me more than you ever did before

It’s all that I can do right now
To make it up to you somehow
And meet you on the other side of home

Take no prisoners here in this knock down drag out war
That we’re waging on each other forever more

Theme song of lingering post-breakup nonsense emotions.

These blogs are getting out of hand.

Why Guys Shouldn’t Buy Drinks (Or Anything) For Girls

True story. Last night, Desi and I went to Hough’s alone for the Steelers game as a result of that whole being excluded from a lot of stuff now thing. Still, we were having a damn good time. We pregamed with whiskey gingers at my house then ate some quesadilla burgers and drank Southern Tier Pumpking at the bar. Could not have been happier. Steelers + whiskey + good beer + best friend = perfect Sunday night. I think that kind of makes us old men. Oh well. Around half-time, the bartender comes over and says that some guys across the bar bought us drinks. How nice. NOT.

They effectively ruined my enjoyment of the game and whole night. Basically, as soon as we were notified of said drinks, they came over and were the most unattractive, unintelligent, unamusing guys I’ve ever met. Not only that, but because they bought us a drink, I felt obligated to talk to them. I was obviously nowhere near interested. But they just kept talking and talking perhaps thinking that they were doing well. What happened was I couldn’t watch the game because these guys were bugging the crap out of me and they stayed there ’til the end apparently not getting the hint. Somewhere in there they bought us another drink (kind of against our will actually) still trying to win us over, I guess.

Anyway, I automatically resent anything that comes between me and Steelers football. I’m sitting there being a little Polamalu in my jersey and literally living and dying by what’s happening on the TV and this guy thinks it’s a good idea to come over and talk my ear off about stupid stuff like how he’s signed the wrong form at AIP where he used to go to school and is now $4000 in debt because of it (seriously?) and also about how likes “90s music” like Lifehouse. God, help us. Lifehouse is terrible. And also NOT FROM THE 90s. But this kid seemed to think that their first single came out in 1998. Anyway, he’s talking about all this crap thinking that we’re hitting it off or something when I’m sending CLEAR signals about how uninterested I am and getting more irritated that this close game is being interrupted by some guy who even explicitly stated that he’s not that interested in football. Ok, fine. You don’t have to like it but stop ruining my enjoyment of it because I actually do like it.

After the game was over, Desi and I went to peace out ASAP. I mean, I did have to work at 7:30 this morning anyway. Then this guy called me out for texting a lot during our conversation and about the fact that we were leaving and not having a victory beer with them. For real, bro? THEN he said he hopes to see us next week because he “watches” the Steelers game there every week. Uhhh, not happening. Now I can never go back to Hough’s for a Steelers game. Thanks for ruining my favorite thing ever, douche with no social skills. Also, accusing me of not paying enough attention to you is needy/pathetic.

Tangent: Hough’s is becoming more and more ruined which sucks because it really is my favorite bar. Reasons:
1) The crowd seems to be getting older in terms of available men. They all seem to be married.
2) I’ve met a decent amount of guys there so a lot of times when I go back, it’s awkward to see the ones I’ve been out with (and weren’t really into) while I’m on a date with another one. During every moment of singleness in my life over the last few years, I’ve just gone and sat there alone then reliably within 30 minutes (max), a guy comes over and we have a good time. But now I think I’ve exhausted that as a resource. And it’s weird/messy now.
3) It’s where I make pretty much every non-Hough’s guy I meet go on a first date with me. I suggest it and they love it and we have a good time… but again, awkwardness for the same reasons as above. And also, because I feel bad. It makes me feel like Hough’s is some kind of first date assembly line where I lure them in and push them out when I’m done with them and then I get weird about maybe how possibly insincere I’m being because they have no idea that many guys have been there in that spot with me before. I realized this especially when I was there with a guy I actually did like because that felt more significant/special than something that should have happened where I’d been with tons of guys before. No more first dates at Hough’s. It’s decided.
4) It was our Cheers bar back in the day when everything was good between Matt and I and we all went regularly as a group and made lovely memories but now it’s kind of bittersweet and sometimes actually painful to be there because nothing is what it used to be. I’m really more upset about losing the group dynamic than losing Matt.
5) Their specials aren’t as good now that it’s a super popular spot. And it’s reliably crowded. Like sometimes you can’t get a seat. There used to be weeknights when we’d be the only ones in there.

But, ok… back to the real point of this post. Why guys shouldn’t buy drinks (or anything else) for girls.
1)  It makes us feel obligated to talk to you. And maybe you think “Oh, if I can just get her to talk to me…” No. Mostly we’re just annoyed that we have to waste our time doing that unless you’re amazing. If we’re out doing our thing and we don’t make eye contact with you at all the whole night or acknowledge that you’re at the bar or even know that you’re at the bar, don’t waste your time/money. Talk to us first then go from there. What if I had a boyfriend? You would have wasted $4-$8 before you could even find out.
2) Guys who are amazing don’t buy girls drinks. Because:
a) they don’t have to because they’re hot and/or smart and/or funny and/or interesting
b) they know it’s a waste of money because that’s just common sense
3) Related to #2, guys who are way less than awesome buy girls drinks because they have no other way to get them so buying us drinks automatically makes you seem incompetent because that’s what you’re associated with instantly
4) Bitches will take advantage of your drink buying inclination and pump you for them then leave without giving you a number or going home with you or promising to go on a date with you

It’s one thing to start talking to a girl, hit it off, have a pretty good feeling that she’s into you, and then offer to buy her a drink in a casual way. Like “Here, let me get the next one” or something. That’s a nice guy gesture. Not a socially incompetent creeper gesture.

10,000x more successful and cost effective… “Hi, my name is _____. [Insert something about how you think we’re cute]” then follow up with absolutely any conversation starter.


Personally, I hate when guys buy me anything in general. It’s unnecessary and almost unappreciated. It freaks me out. Maybe it’s the walls, maybe it’s the independence. Maybe it’s just easier to get to know someone when no one owes anyone anything. Paying for my stuff just takes it to a whole other level. Like a boyfriend level. You don’t have to act like a boyfriend on the 4th date. It’s too much.

I guess I just feel like when they pay for something, it immediately rips away my freedom and the cloud of obligation comes and hangs over my head and I feel tense and I don’t know why. Perhaps I need to man the fuck up and just accept this graciously and not feel bad if it doesn’t work out because they’re the ones who foolishly spend the money and that’s not my problem. But that sentiment sounds equally as hostile as being hostile about the fact that they always try to pay. I also don’t understand why guys are always like “I hate paying for girls because they use me” BUT THEN THEY ALWAYS DO IT. Seriously. I can’t even wrap my brain around this issue and I have no way how I should feel about it or how I should deal with it or how I should react to it. Sigh.