To round out our fun little exploration into the idiosyncrasies of LSD, allow me to introduce mine: musical taste. Music matters to me. My dad’s a musician, and growing up my family never gave a single f*ck about sports., but we talked about and listened to music incessantly. My Okc username is a reference to a semi obscure album that I love, and I still think a mix CD is one of the most wonderful and romantic gifts you can ever receive. 

Now, let me be clear: I am not one of those insufferable music snobs who always has to be up on the latest band, or who thumbs their nose at a good old fashioned pop song. There are plenty of vintage boy band hits and Taylor Swift ballads in my musical rotation, thank you very much. I think almost anything that’s catchy and that you enjoy listening to can count as good music, with a few important exceptions. Which leads me to my first question for a potential date. This one’s actually in my profile:

How do you feel about Dave Matthews band?

I hate Dave Matthews Band. So much. Sofa king much. As in, it’s semi a non-negotiable. If we’re dating, you’re allowed to have owned a Dave CD in high school and worn a puka shell necklace to see him in concert/take some bong hits when you were 17, but that interest better not have followed you into adulthood. His voice. Uggghhhh his voice. Those awful screeching rambling excuses for songs. Shudder. I mean:

Source: Quickmeme

Now obviously, I feel very strongly about DMB, and I judge any guy who proclaims to love or even like them pretttty harshly. But this is really just a simple yes or no opinion question. There’s a right and wrong answer, for sure, but this one doesn’t require any critical thinking. My next question is multiple choice, and it’s something that my friend E and I feel very strongly about:

Who’s your favorite Beatle? And why?

You’re probably thinking, come on, it’s the Beatles! They’re all great. There is no wrong answer.

Source: MoreMaor

There are actually two unacceptable answers: John and Ringo.

John Lennon. Was he a musical genius? Totes. Prolific? Absolutely. Larger than life? Of course. Was his death completely tragic? Obviously. But.. he’s your favorite Beatle? Really? It’s just such a cliche. It shows that you have no imagination (restraining myself from inserting bad ‘Imagine’ joke here), and no appreciation for the more subtle nuances of the band and IMO, pop culture in general.

Also, I’m just going to say it: John was kind of a dick. So if you like him the best, that’s a red flag for me. Either that, or you know nothing about the Beatles and just picked the most famous/obvious one as an answer. And frankly, I’ll have so much more respect for you if you just admit that. I’ll pity and judge you, but at least you’ll get points for honesty.

Also, don’t even get me started on this bitch:

Now, if you’re stupid enough to give Ringo as your answer, please, spare me that ir0nic “I love Ringo because he’s so goofy and everyone else hates him” bullshit. Lookin’ at you, Zooey…

The man wrote approximately 2.5 comically simplistic songs which, because the rest of the band basically took pity on him, ended up on the same albums as some of the best music of the 20th century. He then casually hung up his drumsticks to begin his illustrious second career as the conductor of Shining Time Station.

In summary, Ringo was a lucky bastard who was along for the ride. You can think he’s funny, and you can pity him for being the one so blatantly devoid of real talent, but if he’s your favorite, I’m going to be asking some serious questions about your judgment (or lack thereof).

Answers I’ll accept: Paul and George.

Paul was obviously ridiculously talented, lovable, goofy, irreverent, and real talk, so effing cute. AMIRITE, ladies?

Anyway, so many incredible songs came out of his brain, I could write an entire post about it, but I’ll spare you all. Let’s just pick a random one and enjoy, shall we?

Also, we collectively forgive Paul the whole Wings business because, well, he’s Paul McCartney. And, did you know he wrote the melody to ‘Yesterday’ before he thought of the lyrics, so for months until he finished the song he sang ‘scrambled eggs?’ I mean, come on. Amazing.

My personal answer, though, and the one I’m most excited to hear from a guy is George Harrison, the quiet, quirky Beatle who mostly flew under the radar but also wrote some of their most beautiful and famous songs. Here Comes the Sun? Thanks, George. Something? Yup, all George. And moving past the Beatles, George did some awesome solo stuff. All Things Must Pass is one of my favorite albums ever, and if you haven’t heard it you should check it out ASAP.

In conclusion: if you pick the wrong Beatle, you may still have a chance, depending on your reasoning, but it’s going to be a serious uphill battle to win my affection and approval.

If you tell me you love Dave Matthews, though…

Source: girlsguideto.com

You may be wondering, dear readers, what happened to Message Monday. Welp, season 2 of House of Cards happened. Sorry to keep you waiting, but Frank Underwood’s Machiavellian scheming kind of took precedence. What’s that? Tuesday’s almost over, too? Shhhh. Quiet, my pretties.

Today’s Tonight’s featured message was, in a way, a nice break from the typically offensive, insane, and generally terrifying rants that make their way into our Okc inboxes. However, it was also a first for me:

Huh. I clicked on this dude’s profile and stared. He looked vaguely familiar, but nothing else about him was ringing a bell. Since I canceled my match.com subscription ages ago in a fit of rage and disgust, I had no way of checking my old messages to cross reference. 

I kept staring at his pic, and still, nothing else came to mind. Not a name, not a topic of conversation, nothing. But I did recognize him. Confused and a little creeped out that a random dude not only remembered me from so long ago on an entirely different dating website but also knew my name, I sought the advice of an expert:

Do you like how after one (admittedly traumatic) incident, we now automatically assume every display of odd behavior in the opposite sex relates back to our blog? I mean…

Source: PandaWhale

Also, L seemed so shocked that I couldn’t vividly recall my match.com message history from over a year ago, and it made me wonder if I was being presumptuous in assuming this dude’s story was true.

That’s actually a totally fair point, L.

But now I was stressed out, too. L’s conspiracy theories continued to pour in, the last and most outrageous involving an ex of mine:

After freaking me the eff out with her insane theories, L ended up being right, of course. NOT about the message being from an ex of mine, which was a completely wackadoo hypothesis. She was right about it not mattering. As I’ve mentioned to you lovely readers, I’m seeing someone, which means that my Okc profile is currently being used for blogging purposes only. I’m not messaging people, and I’m not replying to messages unless it’s to politely decline a request to chat. In other words, I’m not going to go out with this dude, so whether he’s an old match.com acquaintance or one of our exes trying to out the blog, it really doesn’t matter.

Conclusion: next time we’d best leave the conspiracy theories to the experts.

Hi readers! Remember in December and January when I was all like: OmigodI just want to date one guy at a time and that will be such a challenge because they are all over me like white on rice but I’ll exercise self control and do it anyway?

HAHAHAHA.

Turns out, a lady can go from having multiple men interested at once to a pretty dry spell of terrible dates and notably terrifying OKC messages and, as a result, spend most of February listening to Fiona Apple and reluctantly eating sensible things like vegetables and homemade salads while pretending that they taste like cheese products (unsuccessfully).

 Via http://falulatonks.tumblr.com/post/12096670779/i-know-i-should-be-chasing-your-vote-but-i-stand

Don’t worry readers, I’d be regaling you with some of these sad tales, starting this week with the story of a lovely gentleman I went out with a few times who ENDED UP HAVING A GIRLFRIEND. YUP. 

And, judging by this gem of a message I received the other day, I could continue the trend of being the third in people’s relationships if I wanted:

Yes, being married is an issue for me. I understand it’s not an issue for everyone, and that the internet can be a convenient and effective place to find someone with whom you can cheat on your partner. Or, maybe this guy is in an open relationship, in which case, more power to him!

But, as I clearly state in my profile, I am looking for single, straight men. So, on top of being married, this guy either cannot read or just doesn’t care. 

But that’s ok. I’ll pass for now, at least until I am out of salad and Fiona Apple tracks. I’ve had enough of attached men for awhile. 

Debbie Downer signing off–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

If you couldn’t already tell, I consider myself a woman who wears many hats. (Not literally. I look terrible in hats. Mediocre bone structure.) But figuratively, I do a lot of things besides my day job. There is blogging, there is book clubbing, there is babysitting, there is some serious Pilates devotion. Am I good at all these things? Not necessarily. But you know one side hobby I’m quite good at? INVESTIGATING. (Some people call it online stalking). Now, I have to give credit where credit is due. I learned 30% of my tricks from Law and Order and CSI Miami, which is why I have conferred on myself an honorary police academy degree.

And, I learned most of my skills from watching this chick:

Via: http://veronicamars-is-smarterthanme.tumblr.com/

Seriously Veronica, I won’t stop it, because you’re a goddess among mortals. For those of you who  were, sadly, deprived an adolescence, that beautiful, brilliant vixen you see is Veronica Mars, star of the self titled UPN series about a teenage, butt-kicking detective. Who my friends and I worshiped, and to this day, strive to be (minus all the near death experiences she has). 

Anyway, here’s the deal with investigating these days. It’s SO FREAKING EASY PEOPLE. I mean, remember how easy it was for S’s current dude to find our blog? 

Usually my investigation into my dates begins and ends with what I like to call “a little healthy googling.” Usually, the guy has shared enough with me via messages and his profile that I can perform an accurate enough google search to find his last name, and from there, perform another google search to learn everything about him. For example, if someone named Harry tells me he works at the World Bank and has 1984 in his username, I just search Harry, World Bank, DC, and, if needed, add the words graduated 2007 or 2006 and see if anything comes up. Once I realize his last name, I perform another search which usually reveals any letters he ever wrote to the editor, an old Myspace profile, his Meetup.com profile, and, if I’m lucky, perhaps some wonderful biography in his college alumni newsletter. Or I’ll get to listen to some wonderful tracks he and his band uploaded to Soundcloud.

Now, please don’t get all Judy Judgmental about “a little healthy googling.” First of all , information is POWER (and safety. You’re welcome mom. Told you I was taking care of myself). I am not meeting these guys through my cousin or mutual friends, I’m meeting them through the internet, a “place” where you can pretend to be anyone you want, including a bisexual Chechen with gastrointestinal problems. I want to make sure the guys I’m chatting with are who they say they are.

I understand that people often associate romantic things with mystery and surprise, but I believe that stuff belongs in the movies, or an at anniversary party you plan for your grandparents.

Now, the only thing about online stalking before your first date is that you learn things your date might want to tell you in a first meeting, such as where he went to college, what he does for a living, what his hobbies are, etc. And, for the sake of the conversation, you need to be able to nod along  as if you’re interested and ask interesting follow-up questions. It’s no good for your chemistry if you act like you know more about his background than he does.

Via: http://www.fanpop.com/clubs/romione/images/28675714/title/top-25-ron-hermione-movie-moments-24-fanart 

Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to stalk J,a guy I first went out with in mid-December, before our first date. Every once in awhile, a guy has a  very common first name, and a nondescript job like “analyst at a think tank,” which describes 40% of the men in DC. So, I went into my first date with J blind. Fortunately, the date was super fun. He made a reservation at one of those exclusive little speakeasy places I’d be been wanting to try. And in addition to being really handsome, he was smart and a gifted conversationalist. We talked for two hours, and he asked me out again for a second date before our first date was over. He sent me a couple of texts over the weekend, reiterating what a great time he had, and confirming our date for the following week.

Of course, on the date, J had revealed his undergrad university and his hometown, which provided me with more than enough information to do a Veronica-esque internet search on his background, which basically confirmed all the facts he told me on our first date.  

Or so I thought…

Enter second date, which happened two weeks after our first date due to Christmas vacation. We met up a bar in his neighborhood for drinks, dinner, and another great conversation. I mean, I will admit that while J was interesting and smart, he wasn’t the nicest person in the world.  But, I figured, I was on the market for  a fun date, not like, new candidates for pope.  So I ignored that part of his personality for the time being.  

At the end of the evening, J asked me if I wanted to come over for “a nightcap.”

Now here’s the thing people. I know I talked a bit about how I wanted to run a longer game in 2014. But you should have seen J’s body. I mean, I could see it under his shirt. His button down, preppy shirt. I swear, it was in the neighborhood of this:

Via primarybeats.com 

So, I hope you will not judge me when I tell you that I said yes to the nightcap. And when we got up to his apartment and he said, “Actually, I don’t even really have any alcohol. We can split a beer if you want.” I stayed. I wasn’t in it for the beer, friends.

So, an hour later, I am using J’s restroom, and I decide to do another investigator move called, “a little healthy snooping.”  Before you get all Jay-Z on me and tell me I’m gonna need a warrant for that, let me explain the parameters of this exercise:

• Anything in plain view is fair game. Always. If you don’t want me to see your DVD copy of “How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days,” put it away.
• If I’m staying over, the medicine cabinet and under the bathroom sink are fair game. I mean, don’t you want me to brush my teeth? Change the toilet paper roll? C’mon.
• Thou shalt not inquire about any prescription bottles that she finds. (Googling prescriptions surreptitiously on your phone is allowed, however.)
• Never ever ever open any dresser drawers or that bedside table drawer. Just don’t.

Per rule #2, I was staying over and therefore had grounds to access anything in the bathroom. (Don’t you like all my legal jargon? I told you I had an honorary police academy degree!)  PLUS, J had just moved apartments and his stuff was in little boxes all over the floor. And what did I see on top of a box but a hair dryer? Now, J had pretty short hair, so I was guessing the hair dryer wasn’t his. But who knows? Maybe he kept it for guests, or used it to dry his socks? But then I opened the medicine cabinet (ostensibly looking for toothpaste and face wash). And, sitting on one of the shelves was an open pack of Neutrogena Eye Makeup Remover wipes.

My Spidey senses told me something was off here. So, what did I do? First, I used the makeup wipes to take the mascara off my eyes. Nobody wants to go to bed with that on. But then, I went back to Jonathan’s room and said, “Why do you have makeup wipes and a hair dryer in your bathroom? Did you just break up with a girlfriend or something?”

J looked a little caught off guard. “Uh…yeah…that’s it.  I just broke up with my ex-girlfriend. How did you know?”

“Why else would you have feminine products in your apartment?” I replied.

But then, without missing another beat, J said, “I kept the hair dryer because I might need it again someday. And I use the make-up wipes for camping trips.”

Maybe I was tired. Maybe I wanted to believe him, just for a few hours, because we were having so much fun. But I dropped the subject and we got back to business.

But the next morning, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was up. When he kissed me goodbye, and said, “See you later, right?, I decided to take a stand and not respond like a normal, conflict-averse person. I said, “Listen J. It’s fine if this was just a fun fling, and you don’t want to see me later. But there is no reason to tell me that if you have no intention of calling me again.”

Now, between last night’s investigative plunge into his bathroom supplies and this aggressive statement, J’s spidey-senses were probably going off too. And, while, they may have said, “This lady is CRAY,” they most certainly must have said, “This girl is ON TO ME.” Of course, J, was like, “No, I really want to see you again. As long as you want to see me too.”

When I returned home, I decided to find out a little more about who J’s ex girlfriend was. So, I returned to his facebook page, and examined the public posts on his wall, and who had liked and commented on his photo. I noticed one girl commenting and liking photos again and again. Her name was C. I clicked on C’s profile and what did I find? A picture of her and J, together, arms around each other.

Now, some of you may be thinking:That means nothing. C could be a sister,  a cousin, a friend. But J didn’t have any sisters. And if she was a relative, he was holding her a little too close for comfort. 

Now you still may be thinking: Maybe that’s an old profile picture. But she had just posted it a week ago. And someone had commented, “Is that you two at Christmas?”

Our old friends Benson and Stabler would call this circumstantial evidence. And indeed it was. So I decided to dig deeper. And what did I find? C had a wildly public online presence, complete with a blog, public Instragram, Pinterest, and Twitter account. Instagram featured a bunch of pictures of her and J together. On Twitter, she was promoting some articles J had written. And, on Pinterest, C had a Pinboard dedicated to J, and one dedicated to, presumably, her future wedding.

So, what’s an investigator’s next move? Bring in a trusted team of consultants, of course. I immediately g chatted my friend K and asked her to review the evidence:

                             Of course, I reached out to S for a good old reality check:

So what was the result of these investigations? I never contacted J again and he never contacted me either. Maybe it was just a regular old fade away, but I like to think that I avoided an untimely death by a hot, Gos-bodied sociopath.  And, for the record, while C’s obit hasn’t appeared in the paper yet, she has not updated her social media in awhile, indicating a possible disappearance. I mean, when you put all the evidence together, J was one sketchy individual. And, after a careful review of the evidence, even S came to that conclusion:

So cheers to being alive readers, even it’s alive and going on lots of first dates. See you next week, unless J gets to me first.

How are we doing out there, readers? Does everyone have a bleary-eyed, DST fueled case of the Mondays? Me too, friends. Me too. Well let’s take those feelings out on a total stranger, shall we?

As you loyal readers know, I’m seeing someone, but I’ve kept my Okc profile active for blogging purposes. I feel slightly sketchy about this, but D and I talked about it and he understands that my interests are purely professional/research related. As a certain hyperbolic but wise co-blogger of mine put it:

L: THIS IS YOUR CAREER

I have noticed recently that there’s a ‘seeing someone’ option that you can choose on your profile. The other day I clicked it on a whim, but I have to be honest, I don’t get it. What kind of weirdo would announce that they’re seeing someone on their profile, and then just stay on the site? (besides dating bloggers, of course.) I know, I know. The answer, obviously, is cheaters. Except if you’re in the market to step out on your S.O., why not just pull a J and lie about being single? Don’t misunderstand me; I’m not encouraging people to lie. Hell no. I just don’t understand the logic behind being perfectly willing to lie to your significant other but not to complete strangers.

Maybe I’m just super old fashioned/naive/jaded/need to read more Dan Savage. Maybe there’s a sea of people in open relationships out there, happily looking for some consensual, mutually agreed upon fun on the side via Okcupid. In which case, mazel tov! Truth be told, I have come across people in arrangements like that, but they’re always super up front about their unique situations on their profiles, I’m sure to avoid being thrown shade by people like me. So when that isn’t the case, and they don’t say a word about their ‘seeing someone’ or even ‘married’ status, I can only assume I’m dealing with a sketchball. Also, as we’ve experienced time and time again, the internet is full of liars. So there’s that.

I know, I know, I was technically lying for that month or so when I was no longer single and still on Okc as ‘single’. And my profile doesn’t explain my ‘seeing someone’ status either. I hear you. Good point. Huge hypocrite. That’s me.

Via: http://frombeginningtoendandbackagain.blogspot.com/2012/06/and-once-againpot-and-kettle-meet.html

Sorry, that was a serious tangent I just took you all on. What can I say? I’m easily distracted. In writing; in life.

Via: http://belieber.files.wordpress.com/2011/02/squirrel-up-dog-gif.gif?w=500&h=250

Let’s move on, shall we? When I mentioned to D that I’d picked the ‘seeing someone’ option on my profile, he was confused.

D: But wait… won’t that prevent you from getting more crazy messages from dudes? Won’t they stop?

Me: I dunno. Maybe. Only one way to find out.

FYI, they did not stop. My message volume actually increased. I mean, the quality of the messages didn’t increase; if anything, that decreased, which I wasn’t even aware was possible given some of my past encounters.

Obviously, it’s Message Monday, so I have an example for you. I received a pretty standard one the other night, right as I was getting home from work. I clicked it open briefly on my phone to read:

I mean, certainly not the best message ever, but CERTAINLY not the worst. Semi complete sentences. Mostly correct spelling and grammar. Polite. Because I was heading out, I closed the Okc app for the time being, intending to reply later. I really do try to respond to anyone who writes me more than two words and appears to be reasonably sane, and tell them thanks but I’m just not interested. I think it’s only fair/polite, especially given the fact that I’ve been a non single person posing as single for the past few months.

Also, I didn’t forget to censor his profile pic; there was no need. More on that later.

Later that night, I noticed that I had a second message from the same dude:

What in the fuckity fuck? First of all, crazypants, less than two hours had gone by when you sent that. Some people have lives they’re trying to live. To quote a comedy great:

Via: http://gimme-gifs.tumblr.com/post/41451599851

Second, I know all too well the experience of sending a message to someone you’re into and getting this response:

Via: http://giphy.com/search/tumbleweed

But that doesn’t mean I write a hostile follow up message to a total stranger an hour later calling them out like a mentally unstable lunatic. That’s not how this online dating thing works, because if it was, I’d have to quit my job to make time for all of the mentally unstable replies I’d be writing to people who were “very rude”.

Third, let’s consider the actual message sender for a moment, shall we? Take a look at his profile picture (his ONLY picture), which as I mentioned I’m able to show you all in its full, uncensored glory:

Ummmmmm…………………?

Real talk: that’s straight up the saddest excuse for a snowman that I’ve ever seen in my life. Here’s a tip: if you want to entice me with a snow creature, might I suggest this guy:

Olaf 4 Life.

And the final thing I noticed about this dude, which brings us back to my rant at the beginning of this post:

Oh, cute! Adorable. Now my blood was officially boiling. I had to respond. And I did:

My original reply was littered with obscenities, but I decided that restraint would be more effective. I sent this knowing it was self indulgent of me and totally unnecessary, but I didn’t GAF. I reaaaaally didn’t.

I blame my blinding rage on behalf of women everywhere for the fact that I didn’t even put two and two together at first. Sadly, it only occurred to me as I was writing this post that this dude totally messaged me because my status is ‘seeing someone’, and he (fairly) assumed I was also looking for some fun on the side. Yup. That’s definitely what happened.

Via: http://ineedthisforreactions.tumblr.com/post/39598152479

Lol. Oh me. Do I feel bad about sassing him? Of course not! He was still an asshole and he still deserved to be put in his place. I regret nothing. But maybe I’ll just go back to my good old ‘single’ status for the time being, so as not to attract and get into a fight with every cheating douchebag in the tri-state area. Good call, right?

Via: http://gossipgirl.alloyentertainment.com/the-top-grammy-moments-presented-in-gifs/#1

Lady B agrees. It shall be so.

HAPPY SPRING!!!!! Dear God… I can’t believe we’ve actually pulled ourselves out of the dark, dirty gutter that was this winter and are seeing a light at the end of the tunnel! (West coast peeps, feel free to skip this weather rant. Also, f*ck off). It’s also a legit city-wide holiday in my neck of the woods, so I couldn’t be more excited to haul ass to nearest Rita’s after work for a free treat.

Anyway, you may be wondering where we’ve been for the past few weeks. I know, we’re the worst. But since I don’t have an actual post about, you know, dating, to offer you at the moment, I thought I’d give you all a jaunty little update on what’s been going on in the lives of LSD. Because as you’ll soon see, our lives are riveting.

I’ll leave you to guess which bullet belongs to which blogger:

• One of us is currently in the Caribbean on a “business trip”. While the other two of us know she’s actually working, we can’t help but use “business trip” in quotes since her Instagram is currently filled with pics of her drinking by pools.
• One of us is MOH in a wedding next weekend and is also throwing the bachelorette two days beforehand. Shit is No. Joke.
• One of us is neither out of town nor in a wedding, she’s just adopted a Dude-like attitude towards all non-essential life tasks lately:

Via: http://northbrookpl.tumblr.com/post/78789831417/what-day-is-it-only-the-16th-anniversary-of-the

• One of us accidentally went on a first date with a Mormon. A Mormon. I mean…
  

Via: http://www.mitt-romney.co/tag/magic-underwear/

• One of us actually cares about March Madness. Gross.
• One of us has a first date coming up on Saturday.
• One of us is still seeing someone who clearly hasn’t figured out how crazy she is yet. Either that or he’s into the crazy. TBD.
  
• One of us can’t stop referring to herself in the third person.
  

So there you have it. We’re alive, we’re (mostly) well, and we actually do have some fun updates if you can bear with our busy schedules at the moment. And here’s one final piece of good news: none of us are as stupid as this guy. Go us!

Via: http://mashable.com/2013/04/18/high-five-day/

Hi readers! How I’ve missed you! In case you don’t  know the intimate details of our lives or lack my amazing detective skills, let me go ahead and give you some answers to the clever riddle S used to explain our egregious negligence of this blog.

It was I who was in Puerto Rico, for “work.” And when I wasn’t working, I was just looking at this:

Go ahead and hate me for a minute. You can even feel a little jealous of me. But that jealousy will be short-lived folks, because you’ll soon be comfortably laughing at my misfortune yet again, when I tell you it was also me who went out with a Mormon. A fact, friends, which was unbeknownst to me, until he disclosed it 30 minutes into our date.

Let me back up a bit and tell you how this union came to be. It was actually my doing, you see, because I messaged this Mormon.  I had just reluctantly ended things with another harmless, perfectly normal, tall, cute, guy, who, despite my best efforts (listening to “pump it up” music before dates, leaning a little too heavily on the bourbon, etc), I just didn’t feel anything for. So I decided, rather than wallowing in  self loathing and reflection about whether or not I’m sabotaging my opportunities for happiness, I’d get back in the saddle ASAP by messaging some dudes and getting some dates lined up.

data1.whicdn.com

So I sent a few messages out into the OKC universe. I’ll admit, my strategy for messaging guys is pretty haphazard. I’ll just browse for guys that I think are cute, check for any red flag questions, and then if his profile is fairly interesting and doesn’t reek of overt sexism or serious mommy issues, I find something we have in common and shoot him a quick message.

In D’s case, what we had in common was a shared love for the best convenience store in the United States, or for that matter, the free world. (If you can’t guess from this description, I urge you to 1) click on the above link  and hear the angels sing 2) slap yourself in the face for not discovering Wawa sooner 3) punch yourself in the stomach if you actually think another convenience store is better than Wawa).

If you don’t find my Wawa passion charming and adorable, don’t worry. D did. He messaged me back right away and we agreed to meet for a drink a few days later.

As soon as I sat down on our date, I realized that a love for Wawa hoagies might be the ONLY thing D and I had in common. He preferred the suburbs to the city, fixed cars in his spare time, and, brace yourself S, liked DAVE MATTHEWS BAND. ”That’s ok,” I thought to myself. “So what if we have nothing in common? I can make conversation with a brick wall! I can get seriously attached to an ex Domino’s pizza manager/recovering heroin addict. This could still work!”

Even though D seemed seriously focused on filling the date with awkward silences, I decided to make like the sport that I am and ask him about himself:

L: “So, you mentioned you like the Utah Jazz?” I asked. “Did you spend some time in Utah?” 

D: “Yes.”

L: “Cool! Were you born there or did you go there for school?”

D: “Both. Most of my family lives there. And, I went to BYU.”

Oh, hello there MITT ROMNEY!!! Didn’t know you were in the market for a half-Jewish girl and devout socialist. Anyone who watched the 2012 election coverage knows that socialists (like me and Barack Obama) and Mormons do not mix.

L: “Wait, are you a Mormon?” (Tact is not my strength, in case you couldn’t already tell).

D: “Yeah. I don’t follow all the rules though.” Motions to his drink.

L: “OH OK. COOL. COOL. Do you mind if people ask you about it?”

Readers, let’s stop and take a pause here, because it’s about to get a little politically incorrect.The normal person who is buried very deep inside me knows that it can get offensive fast when uninformed people ask other people about their religion or culture. But the thing is, I was 1) so shocked he hadn’t just noted the Mormon thing on his profile and saved both of us the trouble 2) really bored on the date and running out of things to talk about, that I couldn’t help but get a little inappropriate. (See JDate, I am an equal opportunity offender of religious groups.)

L: “So, have you met Tom Cruise or John Travolta or anything? Or, do you mostly practice with the local Mormon community here?”

D: “Why would I meet them?”

L: “Aren’t they like, devoted, Mormons? Don’t they travel around, trying to get people to convert? I mean, Tom almost got Katie Holmes. THANK GOD SHE GOT OUT. No offense or anything.”

D: “That’s Scientology. They are Scientologists. It’s different.”

L: “Oh god, you’re right! Sorry! I just was thinking of like, other religions based on books some man wrote.”

D: “Hmm.”

L: “So, why didn’t you put it on your profile? Or did I just not see it?”

D: “Would that have changed things?”

L: “Depends. Do you want to be with a Mormon girl?”

D: “Yeah, definitely.”

L. Guzzles drink. (Please note that by this time I was on my third Jameson and ginger).

Welp, after that we made small talk about car parts and quickly finished our drinks. CAR PARTS FOLKS! Do you understand now why I had to get all Comedy Central in his face about the Mormon thing? I was trying to stay awake! 

How did things end with D? Let’s just say you’re not going to see me on this show anytime soon:

Date rating: 2/10 (I am giving D two points for refraining from giving me a deserved lecture on religious ignorance). D deposited me at my bus stop faster than you can say, special underwear. The thing is, I don’t get why he went out with me in the first place. My profile clearly indicates that I’m an agnostic, recovering Jew. So, while I acted like an intolerant ditz, I am not NOT saying he didn’t ask for it by misguidedly going out with me, and being so darn boring I couldn’t help but stir the pot a bit. 

*I guess I’m going to have to fine tune my messaging strategy.

**Stephanie Meyer if you’re reading this, I just want you to know I mean no ill will toward Mormons. And I love your books! Team Edward for life!

One of the things I find to be most stressful about dating is the uncertainty. There is no one set of rules or guidelines to follow, so it’s basically the wild goddamn west out there–everyone is playing by their own rules and timelines, and you’re constantly wondering if you and another human being are on the same page. Naturally, this lends itself (at least in my case) to the following:

• stress
• wine drinking
• constantly consulting one’s girlfriends on gchat
• comical misunderstandings

Just off the top of my head, here are some timing-related questions that have come up in my few months of dating D:

• When can you start packing an overnight bag to stay at the other person’s place? The first time I slept over at D’s I wasn’t sure if I was invited to stay the night (we had made plans to watch movies and that’s it). I didn’t want to be presumptuous, so I stuffed underwear, a toothbrush, face wash and Lord knows what else into my purse like a legit call girl. When he was all, “of course you’re invited to stay the night!” I started to pull random items out of my bag like I was Mary Poppins’ slutty niece. (I’m sure this is a proud moment for you, mom.) Of course now my overnight bag resembles something settlers would take on the Oregon Trail, complete with a full bevy of toiletries. #noshame
  
• When is it cool to leave something AT the other person’s place, like a toothbrush or a hair dryer? We all (and by “we all” I mean TV loving ladies and gays in our late 20s and 30s) remember that SATC episode where Big presents Carrie with a pink toothbrush head and it might as well be a flawless 3 carat Tiffany cushion cut, it’s so significant. Also, FUN FACT: as L recently discovered, finding hair and beauty products in a guy’s apartment is a great way to spot a cheater.  

• When does the inaugural fart happen? And who farts first? (again, time to swell with pride, mom). FYI, if you just answered ‘never’, you are reading the wrong blog. I assure you. I actually have a soul crushing story about this that I’m not going to tell you all out of sheer humiliation. UGH fine, if you must know, it was me. I farted first. Super early on, too. For the record, it was IN MY SLEEP and I wouldn’t have even known about it if D hadn’t decided to fully traumatize me by telling me (In a totally teasing way, but still. FML).
• When do you introduce your significant other to your friends and/or family?
• When do you start referring to that person as your boyfriend/girlfriend/boo?

But I’m getting ahead of myself. Before many if not most of those questions can be addressed, there’s this fun little doozy:

When do you have the exclusivity talk?

If you haven’t been out in the dating world recently (you lucky bastard), you may think that after a certain stretch of time it’s just implied that you and the other person are exclusive. Let me assure you:

First rule of online dating: assume nothing. We here at StuCu have learned that the hard way. For instance: don’t assume your date is single, and definitely don’t assume they’re not a serial killer until you can do a full background check. And of course, don’t assume if you’re dating someone for an extended period of time that they’re dating just you. Because if you haven’t talked about it, they’re probably not. #jaded

My experience with the ‘are we exclusive’ talk is comically limited. I’ve gotten really used to (and honestly, really comfortable with) some variation of the following:

Okc dude: Hey so, I really like you.

Me: I like you, too.

Okc dude: I just want to be completely honest: I’m not looking for anything super serious at the moment.

Me: Okay. Thanks for being honest.

Okc dude: But let’s keep seeing each other and see what happens?

Me: Sounds great.

In summary, the noncommittal dating anthem of our generation. I mean, thinking back on these conversations with guys is actually fairly depressing in hindsight. Not that there’s anything wrong with casual dating…

But if I’m being totally honest (with myself and you guys) on at least one occasion I definitely told myself I was cool with this arrangement when in reality I wasn’t, because I liked the person and didn’t want things to end. I know. Pathetic. But to quote a 90s goddess:

Back in January, D and I had this very talk (and by “talk” I mean the whole thing went down over text. Oh, modern dating.) As much as I’d like to say it just came up organically or I was brave and breezy enough to be direct with him over drinks, of course the reality was totally random and awkward. I wish I could screen cap the entire thing for your viewing pleasure, but my phone decided to wipe all my texts when I updated my iOs, so this is me paraphrasing. Here’s how it went down:

Random Weeknight in Early January

Me: (in the middle of how’s your day type small talk) What are you up to tonight?

D: I have a date.

Me (internally): ………..

Me (trying to be breezy while I figure out what the eff to say): Oh, really? Where is it?

D: blablabla date details.

Me: Well, uh…have fun?

D: Thanks.

After that supremely awkward exchange, I sat and stewed. Wtf was he getting at, telling me he had a date? Is that what people do now? They just go out with each other and then openly share when they’re going out with someone else? I was pissed. Not about the date (okay, maybe a little about the date), because to be fair we hadn’t had an exclusivity talk at that point. I was still active on Okc, and I too had been out with someone else recently. And I of course didn’t know this at the time, but by this point D had already found the blog and was reading all about my dating shenanigans. 

I guess I was just… insulted. Why was it necessary to tell me that instead of just saying he had dinner plans? Most people get that until you have the exclusivity talk, dating other people is basically a don’t ask/don’t tell situation. I knew, despite my instincts to not make a big deal out of things like this, that I’d have to talk to him about it.

Again, paraphrasing:

Me: So listen. I know we haven’t had any sort of talk about exclusivity, and that’s fine. You’re well within your rights to be seeing other people at this point. But could you just not tell me? I was a little taken aback when you did, and I think I’d just appreciate it if we didn’t bring it up to each other.

D: Of course. But to be fair, you asked what I was doing, and I wanted to be honest.

Me: I think this is a great example of being a little too honest. And I’m not trying to rush things. If you need time…

D: I don’t need time. I know who I like. (not gonna lie, I swooned a bit when he said this. It’s only after remembering it months later that I realized D never actually said he liked ME. He could have technically been talking about some other girl. Glad that worked out!)

D: I’m going to go on this date, because I don’t want to be rude and cancel the same day. But after that I’m done.

Me: Me too. So…we’re officially just seeing each other, then.

D: Yup.

So there you have it. Our first date was in mid-November so we had “the talk” about a month and a half into seeing each other. Now if D hadn’t created an opportunity, albeit an awkward one, for us to talk about this, I’m not sure how long I would have waited to say something. Probably another few weeks, tops.

What about you, readers? How long do you wait before having the exclusivity talk with someone? Do you just go for it or do you wait for the other person to bring it up first? Leave us a comment!

PS – this is completely unrelated to the subject of the post, but I can’t not bring it up. When I asked D about his date during our original convo, he revealed that they were going to a restaurant IN MY HOME TOWN in Jersey. The second he said that, I was positive I knew the girl (my little town is not exactly a hot date destination). Naturally, the next time I saw D I completely grilled him about his date. He was all waaaaaait, I thought you didn’t want to know about it and I was all dude, of course I do, because

I told him about my theory that I knew his date and he was all ‘Pssshhhh no way’. But you know what?

I WAS RIGHT. I TOTALLY KNOW HER. We went to high school together. Boom. I called it. Just had to gloat.

God, being right is the best.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

First, a couple screen shots from his profile:

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

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

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

I realize that investigating (online stalking) has been my theme of choice on the blog lately. But after watching Traevon Jackson miss a critical free throw last night and cost the Wisconsin Badgers an NCAA title (yes, I am the blogger who likes March Madness, and yes, S, I put this reference in here mostly to annoy you), I was reminded that even the best of us make mistakes sometimes. Which is why, today, I bring you a message from the archives that demonstrates that even I am not above the online stalking FAIL.

Back in November, during the 2013 season of my life that will forever be known as “man madness,” due to the exciting, unpredictable, and frequent nature of dates back then, I exchanged a relatively boring couple of messages with “M”:

Sure, he dared bring up the Jewish thing, which we all know I’m not very excited about. But his messages were short and sweet, which I appreciate, and I’m partial to anybody with Philly ties. The real worry I had about M was that he only had one profile picture. And, I learned very early on in the world of online dating, you cannot trust a single picture to tell you what someone actually looks like. So, when M replied with his name, I used his name plus the information from his profile to find him on the internet. So, I went to his facebook profile to see if I could find public photos to get a better sense of what he looked like. Sadly, what it revealed was that he was a conservative republican, and that the picture he used for his OKC profile was taken four years ago. Before I could pat myself on the back for being such an internet sleuth, something terrible happened. Maybe it was because it was late at night and I was tired. Maybe it was because I had consumed one too many hot toddys at a party. I. ACCIDENTALLY. CLICKED: “add friend.”

FOX / Via reactiongifs.com

OK, OK, “Don’t panic,” I told myself. “There must be a way to cancel the request. And there was. Thank god for Facebook help page. I toggled over the request and pressed cancelled. All good. 

However, several hours later, M messaged me again:

http://giphy.com/gifs/37Ez5CZ8P0jSM 

What Facebook’s help page NEGLECTED to mention was that if a person still gets email notifications about friend requests, those DO NOT get cancelled. So, how did I respond to being called out?

I didn’t.  I did the mature thing and blocked him on Facebook and on OKCupid.

Can’t win ‘em all folks. And here’s some advice from me to you: Do not drink and Facebook.

In order to explain today’s pics, I need to bore you guys for a hot second. Bear with me. When you upload a profile picture onto Okcupid, you’re prompted to crop it into a smaller thumbnail version. The small version is what appears in searches and on your profile’s homepage, so logically if your photo was taken from far away or includes other people, you can choose to zoom in on just your face so people can actually see you when browsing.  Well apparently the cool thing to do these days (and I wouldn’t know because hi, rapidly approaching 30 over here)…

via: http://rednkhakirants.tumblr.com/page/3

…is to crop your profile pic like a complete asshole.

Allow me to introduce the following samples into evidence. Here’s bachelor # 1′s thumbnail picture, which appeared on my homepage:

Admittedly harmless, but gee, I wonder who that ear and partial cheek belongs to? Probably someone super interesting. I mean, how coy. How mysterious. Let’s have a looky-loo at the rest of him, shall we? Clicking on his photo reveals…

A reasonably cute guy! Except he immediately kills my vibe with a newsies cap, and I have a strict no fedoras/newsies caps/pork pie hats rule. Seriously, if you’re wearing one of those, you’d better be on your way to sell some papes, or organize a child labor union with Christian Bale:

On to our next reveal, bachelor #2′s thumbnail pic:

I mean…

via: http://rednkhakirants.tumblr.com/page/2

Let’s find out, shall we?

What did we win? Oh just a creeper in a hoodie with gross looking cuticles. Swoon. How many failed attempts do we think it took this guy before he got the positioning juuuust right? 15? 20?

This is unrelated, but it must be noted that bachelor #2′s profile lists “going to the toilet” as one of his interests.

via: http://s284.photobucket.com/user/Bigsteve87/media/Gifs/GrossedSNL_zps78c71cbb.gif.html

Obviously I’ve saved the best (i.e. most senseless) for last:

WHAT IS WITH MEN FLASHING THEIR BELLY BUTTONS?? Please, adult males, no belly buttons on online dating sites. Not now, not ever. I beg you.

Welp, we may as well take a look at the whole package, as it were. Behold, bachelor #3:

A classic ill-advised shirtless selfie. Some things never change.

Bottom line: women don’t need you to show us that you’re pseudo-creative, unique, ironic, or mysterious, or whatever else you think you are by cropping your picture in this senseless manner. If you need to express yourself creatively please, get an Instagram account and bore your friends with your filter choices like a normal person.

Also, I’m sure you think your weird thumbnail will catch our attention, and clearly these have caught mine, but the only thing I feel is annoyance at having to work to figure out what you look like. I just. want. to see. your. face. And if I can’t, for me it’s an automatic…

via: http://giphy.com/search/thumbs-down

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

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

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

Source: sheknows.com

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Source: 31 GIFS What Will Make You Laugh Every Time

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

S

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

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

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

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

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

my mind is comically blank.

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

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

And that STRESSES ME OUT.

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

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

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

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

• Online stalking

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

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

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

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

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

• The iMessage read receipt

Worst feature ever, or worst feature ever? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hey readers!  L here and ready to bring you the scoop from the internet dating websites. Never fear readers. I may be one year older as of a few days ago, but I’m as immature and judgmental as ever. Which is why I’d like to use our time today to judge fellow online daters on one thing: their usernames.

The minute you join any online dating site, the first thing you have to do is create a username. Why not just use your real name and email, you ask?

http://giphy.com/gifs/8WdsK61D9YOOc

Because you don’t want all those creeps out there to immediately google/facebook/email you. Plus, while we at StuCu obviously believe an online dating profile is nothing to be ashamed of (even though my mom keeps referring to internet dating as “paying for sex”), we also don’t want to openly advertise our first and last names to all the folks in the area, who are potential clients, colleagues, friends of friends, etc.

So, enter the USERNAME. Where, depending on the guidelines of the site, you have 5-20 characters to convey your identity in a smart, witty, way that won’t scare people or give away your identity.

THE BAD

Now, you’d think this would be pretty easy to do. However, for some people, this is very challenging. Here are a few examples *changed slightly to protect identities* of the worst ones I’ve found yet.

JamesNeedhamIII- So you know how I just said it’s really dumb to use your first and last name? Some people do it anyway. And to those people I say, “I hope you are not going on a job interview any time soon.” 

Notlookingforsluts- Oh hello, nice guy of Okcupid! Thank  god you made it clear in your username that you aren’t looking for a slut, because I was just about to message you and offer you my body. Word to the wise, and also to you: hold off on using derogatory terms to refer to women till at least the second date.

Stinkypants-The only person who could possibly get away with this is a baby. And while babies are cute (SO. CUTE.) , they should NOT be online dating.

Now, S and I have discussed the possibility that some “bad” usernames may be intended for comedic purposes. This post was the original brainchild of a spontaneous gchat about bad usernames:

Thanks S, for being the voice of reason and drawing that conversation to a close. As I learn all too regularly, there is a fine line between being funny and just plain scary. And one (me, obvs) should avoid that line when it comes to dating.

THE GOOD

Every once in awhile, I’ll stumble across a username that makes me outright LOL, or, become so impressed/intrigued I actually message the guy!

ZackMorrisCellPhone/DavidSilver/SayAnything- Nothing makes me weak in the knees like a casual reference to late 80s/early 90s pop culture. Nothing. I usually get so excited I’ll message something CRAY like, “Meet me at the Max in 1 hour?” or, “You were the best DJ Donna ever dated!” or, “Diane Court here.”  

http://giphy.com/gifs/dLyfT21xFdwpG

BagelMeetBagel- Surprise, surprise. This one came from a Jewish guy. (See Dad, I don’t hate them all!). I like it because 1) It’s a clever play on a name for another internet dating service and 2) It’s a little joke about Judaism, which you know I appreciate.

Herecomesyourman-One of my favorite Pixies songs transformed into a username. Just go ahead and hold a boom box up to my window, why dontcha?

Key takeaways here:

• Humor is good.
• LLoyd Dobler is greatness rolled into one single man.
• Pop culture references are good, for the most part, provided they don’t reference recent murder cases.
• And when in doubt, make a little healthy fun of my religion, and I’ll be eating out of the palm of your hand.

THE AVERAGE

The truth is, readers, most usernames are just very, well, average. And, honestly, average is probably a safe, smart place to stay before you’ve met someone.

A visit or message from Mark3456 or jbt78 or Cardinalsfan may not catch my eye as quickly as I_shot_the_Sheriff_forreal. But that’s ok. Because honestly, what people say in their messages, and their profiles, is way more important than their username.

And sadly, easier to screw up. We’ve already done a post or two on profiles and messages, but rest assured, readers! There is enough material here to run a daily tumbler for eternity. In fact, you can find one of my favorite message tumblrs here. This should keep y’all busy for awhile.

via: http://www.thatonerule.com/rule/1247

I heard this quote months ago and it really stuck with me. Not the ‘relationships are simple’ part, because that’s bullshit, but the idea that every single romantic relationship that I have in my life, aside from (hopefully) one, is inevitably going to end. Somehow, some way, it’s going to end. It’s a cynical, depressing thought, but it’s true.

It’s also what makes being in a relationship so f*cking scary: you never know when the ax is going to fall (unless, of course, you’re the one wielding it). For instance, I didn’t know when I bragged like an idiot about being “out of the dating game” on Monday that literally 24 hours later it would no longer be true. I just went about my business normally, answering questions about my boo at L’s parents’ Passover Seder on Monday night, thinking about what outfit I should wear to dinner with him on Friday (ahem, as in tonight…fielding that reservation confirmation call was a blast), and then…

via: film.com

D and I broke up. Well, correction: D broke up with me.

My co-bloggers were surprised that this post was done and ready to go so quickly after the…dumping, but honestly the only thing (aside from my wonderful, supportive friends and fam) that has made me feel better is writing. I literally sat down at my desk on Wednesday morning rocking huge sunglasses to hide my terrifying bloodshot eyes, and proceeded to word vomit this entire thing for the next hour.

This post  (which ps has quickly evolved into a two parter–you should know by now that brevity is not my strong suit) was especially weird to write because I know for a fact that D is going to read it. I mean, how completely bizarre is that? I was mildly tempted to put on a cool/aloof front and act like I DGAF about what happened/am already moving on to greener pastures, but honestly, fuck it. I don’t really care how I come off; I don’t have the energy to be anything but honest right now (and also, apparently, dramatic). A part of me also feels oddly protective of D, 1. because it’s just me here telling one side of the story and 2. as you’ll read, he didn’t do anything awful or dishonest or douchey, so I have no intention of skewering him or over-sharing at his expense. I don’t feel the righteous anger of a woman scorned like I did with J or H. I honestly just feel…sad.

via: http://letitrainlemonade.blogspot.com/2013/02/debbie-downer-much.html

So… where to begin? I guess I’ll start by saying that while I was shocked when it happened, I wasn’t shocked that it happened. Things had been kind of weird between me and D for a few weeks. His job was very intense and he was in a bout of working crazy long hours, but he was also just acting…strange. Distant. Off. He would insist that it was work stuff and stress and exhaustion, and I know that he wasn’t lying about those things. Something else seemed wrong to me, though, but I felt like an asshole harping on it. I was trying so hard not to be a stupid clingy girl, because no one wants to be that girl. I told myself that it was hard to maintain a relationship with crazy schedules and limited time to see each other in person. I didn’t really share my uneasiness with my friends because I couldn’t pinpoint what I was uneasy about. Then I’d see D in person and things would be fun and awesome and great again, and I’d forget about the weirdness altogether.

Last weekend, D was out of town at a wedding and I was hosting a bunch of friends for L’s birthday. We didn’t really talk the whole time, but again, I attributed it to us both having plans and doing our own thing. When D got home on Sunday, we caught up on the phone and things seemed normal and good. He asked if I was around Tuesday night and if I was free to grab a drink (news flash: “grab a drink” is obviously the universal euphemism for “get dumped”. Now you know.)

Tuesday night arrived and it was pouring rain (of course it was–although it will set the scene nicely when this story is adapted for 0ur future TV series) so D picked me up. I immediately could tell something was up and asked him what was going on. It took him a while to get the words out but he finally said:

“I think we should take a break.”

Pop quiz, early Millenials! What’s the very first thing that comes to mind when you hear that phrase?

Even though I semi blacked out, as one does in these situations, I’m pretty sure I managed to mumble, “what is this, Friends?”. As D continued, I quickly realized that by “break” he actually meant “break up” (and everyone knows how “taking a break” always ends anyway. Especially Ross and Rachel).

D told me that he had been feeling weird about us for a little while, that his feelings for me had changed, and that he couldn’t stop thinking about his ex. Oof.

via: http://justgif.com/tags/247/facepalm

I’m not a particularly jealous person, but I couldn’t help but wonder about D’s ex who he broke up with over the summer. I was the first person he seriously dated after her and it was hard not to wonder if there were still lingering feelings there, although to be honest D hadn’t given me a reason to think that there were. I knew that he had seen the ex in question at last weekend’s wedding (of their mutual friends). He insisted nothing had happened between them aside the fact that he felt a real connection with her again, and he couldn’t ignore it, and it wasn’t fair to me for him to deny it or pretend that it wasn’t happening.

D kept going, his words only partially sinking in: he really cared about me, didn’t want to lose me as a friend, felt sick about hurting me, bla bla bla. What I heard was:

via: http://blogs.houstonpress.com/hairballs/2009/12/online_stuff_you_gotta_do_afte.php

We sat in D’s car for a long time. Sometimes I talked and sometimes he talked, and sometimes it was awkwardly silent. I cried, because I don’t care what anyone says, getting dumped is completely traumatic/horrific, especially when you get dumped because your S.O. can’t stop thinking about someone else…

via: http://camphalfblood.wikia.com/wiki/File:Tumblr_md7tum00ng1rgzenuo1_500.gif

…but aside from the tears, the whole thing was strangely calm. There was no yelling. There were no alarm bells going off in my head telling me this was a mistake, that this was the right guy for me, that he was who I was supposed to end up with. I knew that while I cared about and felt close to D, my feelings for him were never that strong, and that despite having a great time with him, I couldn’t exactly picture a long term future with him either. Breaking up felt awful, but it also weirdly felt right. And that’s when I started to get mad, not at D (okay, obviously a little at D) but mostly at myself. For ignoring all the signals and not trusting my gut. For not calling D out on his weird behavior earlier. For not being honest about my feelings, with him or with myself.

So there I was, stuck in D’s car, hating myself, hating the universe, crying, my ego shot to hell, and wondering what the eff I was supposed to do next. Part of me wanted to run from that car like it was on fire; the other part of me felt glued to my seat. After we were both quiet for a bit, D assured me that he was happy to sit and talk for as long as I wanted, or still get drinks if I was up for it, or he’d take me anywhere I wanted to go. “I just need a minute,” I told him, blowing my nose pathetically. He nodded.

Finally, through the haze of emotions, I started to remember how my other relationships (and non relationships) ended in the past. And there seemed to be one common denominator: they each ended abruptly. When J broke up with me in a crowded bar I was so shocked and mortified that I literally ran out of there and never saw him or spoke to him again (well, save for a random little exchange last fall). When I ended things with H, my feelings for him were so strong that I knew in order to get over him/not get sucked back in I’d have to cut him out of my life completely. So it was the same thing; I told him it was over and essentially hung up on him. Both times I felt so unsatisfied, like there were things I wanted to say and ask but never had the chance to. If a relationship is a sentence, there were no periods at the end of those sentences (and I’m a stickler for punctuation- BADUM CHING). You know what word I’m about to use: the c word. No, not that c-word, dirty birds. Closure.

I wanted closure. I needed closure. And I decided I was going to get it.

I looked in the mirror at my ridiculously red, puffy eyes, and then over at D. “Take me somewhere dark where I won’t see anyone I know.” He nodded and started the car.

Stay tuned for the (thoroughly un-) dramatic conclusion to my break up saga next week.

First and foremost – HAPPY MARATHON MONDAY! 

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

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

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

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

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

I think YOU’RE the racist in this scenario.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  and D, doing this:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Source: Mashable

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

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

Smoooooooth!

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

Source: The Ultimate Gif Database

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

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

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

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

Source: The Ultimate Gif Database

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

Blech.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Believe it or not readers, we are well into our second quarter of 2014. Which means it’s time to take a step back. Reflect. Mediate. Think about who we are, and what we have accomplished.

 http://www.washingtonpost.com/blogs/the-fix/wp/2014/01/29/the-state-of-the-union-in-11-gifs-and-pictures/

Whoa, calm down Joe Biden. This state of the union isn’t that serious. But I do think it’s time for me to take pause and evaluate how I’ve done on my New Year’s Resolutions that I so boldly embraced back in December. 

Let’s have a look, shall we?

RESOLUTION #1: DATE ONE GUY AT A TIME

http://giphy.com/gifs/NsFDCblOHz9QI

You can join Dumbledore in offering me some tepid applause, because I’m actually doing a pretty good job on this one. Sure, my success is at least partially due to the fact that I went one some pretty terrible dates this winter. But, I’ve honestly made a concerted effort not to pack my schedule with dates with any promising bachelor in the OKC universe. The good part about this? I’ve been seeing the same guy for just shy of two months, and I actually might like him. The scary part? I’ve been seeing the same guy for just shy of two months, and I actually might like him, and I can’t hide my feelings behind the distractions with other guys.

Of course, I’ve kept my OKC profile active, because 1) it’s early yet and 2) I’m a well-respected semi-famous dating blogger after all, and I need that profile for professional reasons. And, before I had decided I was actually dating the bachelor of the moment, I had been exchanging messages with a couple promising guys on OKC. Rather than just disappearing into thin air, as many many online daters before me have done, I decided to take the direct approach to let them know I wasn’t interested in going out:

HAHAHA. I gotta tell you readers, this guy’s response actually IMPRESSED me. I have a weakness for negative cynics, and as you have probably discerned, there is nothing I give more credit to than a direct, blunt response. So, it’s good to know, if things with T (promising bachelor) don’t work out, my Prince Charming Miserable may be out there.

Anyhoo, speaking of T, that brings me to …

RESOLUTION # 2: STOP WORRYING ABOUT WHAT HE’S THINKING, AND FOCUS ON WHAT I’M THINKING

This is a tricky one readers. While I was walking around last year feeling like the most romantically wounded adult on the planet, apparently 5000000 people were having the exact same feeling. What I’ve learned from my friends, colleagues, co-bloggers, and you, wonderful readers, is that most people who have been in any serious relationship, which has then ended, amicably or not, is pretty worried about getting hurt again. As a result, most of us spend time protecting ourselves, which means 1) not getting close enough to anyone to let them hurt us and 2) anticipating the moment where the other shoe will drop, and we’ll get hurt again. In fact, this phenomenon is so common that there is a whole TED talk on it (recommended by my friend A. Thanks A!) I strongly suggest that, if you are one of the 5 million of the aforementioned people who fear rejection like me, you watch it–after you’ve finished reading this post of course.

So, inspired by the TED talk and the stories of many, I am trying very very hard to just embrace the feeling of liking someone again. And to explore all the other feelings, and questions, and reflections that come with it. Am I always successful? No. (Per the read receipt incident S mentioned a few weeks ago). But I’m trying, and this is one of those rare times I think the journey is as important as the destination.

http://giphy.com/gifs/cEYFeE1QgHWH2YADVHG

Yikes! That is one scary GIF. I get the message, Heath, don’t worry. I’ll get off my emotional soapbox now and go back to trying to get some cheap laughs…

RESOLUTION #3: GET BUZZED, NOT DRUNK

Barring what I like to call “the Mormon surprise of 2014″  (which is covered by the well known resolution clause which reads, when you are out with someone you can compare to Tom, Cruise and John Travolta, all bets are off), I thought I was doing a pretty decent job on this one. During a recent post-date Sunday morning brunch with C, I was patting myself on the back for this feat when C interrupted me. 

L: “And I mean, T kept saying I was drunk last night. But I wasn’t. He just doesn’t understand yet how freaking fun I am, even when I am sober.”

C: “I thought your New Year’s resolution was not to get drunk on dates.”

L: “Yeah, that’s what I just said. I didn’t get drunk on my date.”

C: “Yes you did.”

L: “NO I DIDN’T. WHY ARE YOU TRYING TO CRUSH THE BUTTERFLY THAT IS MY SPIRIT?”

C: (Pulls out cellphone) “Um, please look at these texts you sent me.”

L: (mouth agape) “I don’t even remember sending those texts.”

C: “I mean, could there be clearer evidence I am right? You actually said,  I got drunk [drink] on this date. You also said you wished I was there, which was weird.”

God bless, C, my real life sassy gay friend. 

Thanks to C, I am back on the wagon (and by wagon, I mean 4 drink max on dates).  Now, if only he’d help T pick out some better fitting shirts…

Overall  resolution-keeping grade: B. I picked some hard resolutions y’all. (Esp 2 and 3!). I’ve done better on them than the year before, but there is still plenty of room for improvement in quarters 3 and 4.

Regrets: I don’t have any. All three of these resolutions are increasing my quality of life. And besides, I don’t believe in regrets.  YOLO.