The Frog Blog

Reality Bites

2011-09-14T10:27:00.000-07:00

OK Y'all,
So I was reading this article the other day about what makes men and women 'undateable.' It had your standard answers of, 'too much baggage,' 'bad kisser,'etc. It also had one choad who said, 'a woman who farts in her sleep.' Wow. First of all, this ass clown doesn't have the sense to realize that women don't actually KNOW that they fart in their sleep. We have no control over bodily functions when we are REM-ing it up, so I place the onus squarely on the other party when it comes to taking responsibility for dealing with odoriforous emanations during slumber. Anyhoosle, this article got me thinking about my own situation and what qualities I have that make me dateable or undateable. I chose to focus on the positive, so I compiled a list of the traits I possess that I think make me a swell gal and the traits that I felt men took into consideration. I call them :
Things I Think Make Me Dateable

1. Quick witted sense of humor that is very rarely offended
2. Ability to cook and bake
3. Awesome trivia skills
4. Good skin, hair, teeth, and overall health
5. Enjoyment of a variety of activities that guys partake in, like hiking, sports, and chicken wing eating contests
6. Physically low maintenance so it doesnt take 10 years to get ready

Things That Men Think Make Me Dateable
1. Big Tits.
That's pretty much it. If I'm wrong, please tell me in the comments, but I doubt it. Happy dating!

Cool It Now

2011-06-16T08:50:00.001-07:00

OK Y’all,
So I just read this article online about a guy who is willing to donate half his salary as a gift to a charity of your choice, if—and here’s the kicker—you are a lady of age 18-49 who is willing to marry this chump. Yes, you read that right…he’s breaking the cardinal rule of the Beatles and trying to use money to buy love. This fellow has a blogger site just like I have here, and he has posted 38 reasons why single women should love him but don’t. Let me just give you a few examples of these ‘reasons’ and you can tell me what you think after I tell you what I think (Granted, many of these reasons are meant to be tongue in cheek, but I find it a fatally flawed approach on several levels. I like humor as much as the next girl, but this guy is not funny, he’s just sad).
1. He says he has bad skin so he will ‘grow a beard for you.’ I understand that everyone gets a zit now and again, and some get them more than others. But you do not, I repeat DO NOT, need to advertise this fact if you are trying to attract ladies. Even if you think it is funny and disarmingly honest, I am here to tell you it is TMI and you will not profit from it. Guaranteed the first thing any gal is thinking when she reads that lil tidbit is, OMG this dude is a walking Proactiv before picture—Abort! Abort! Chicks don’t want to sit and think about all your grody comedogenic issues and reminding girls about it is certainly not helping your case. In this instance, being self-deprecating is not winning you any points, it’s just grossing out your potential mates who would have otherwise not even noticed or chosen to overlook your dermatological maladies.
2. He says he has never had a girlfriend, ever. Now, this fellow is 38 years old, and he looks a lot like Andy Torres on Cougar Town. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, look it up. Seriously, do it now. I’ll wait…..ok, great. Now, I’m sure there is a segment of the female population who digs that look. I am not one of them, but there is somebody for everybody. He has tried multiple methods of procuring a date, including online dating, and has done some stupid things for women he was interested in. So I therefore find it a bit odd that he would not have at least dated a girl here and there for a month or two until she opened the medicine cabinet and found all of his Clean and Clear products. But, assuming that he is not trying to be humorous and he really hasn’t had a lady companion, I have to imagine the sole reason for that is a little thing we call Desperation. Chicks can smell it on you a mile away, just like dudes can. Best case scenario you might get someone to take advantage of your pathetic situation and throw you a pity lay here and there, but if you’re serious about acquiring the company of a honest to god woman, you can’t come off as even slightly desperate. Women like self confident men; guys who could give two shits if they have a date on Friday night as long as there is a sporting event and beer nearby. Women like to feel as if you have chosen their company over all others, not like they are being trailed by a stalker who has nothing going for them.
3. He took a picture of himself without a shirt on and then makes fun of how hairy and chunky he is. Again, I cannot reiterate this enough, WE GET IT. I have dated plenty of guys who were not exactly Dash Riprock in the physical fitness department and I had absolutely no problem with it. In fact, I like my dudes a little chunky. And I am not Miss America either. I have ‘problem areas’ that I could work on. But I am also not willingly posting photos of said areas and telling men that I have more to love. I sometimes get caught in photos during the summer in my swimsuit and that is mortifying enough. So keep it covered, buddy. Any self respecting gal is not going to look at that photo and think, ‘wow, what I really need is an acne riddled Wookiee in my life to keep me company.’
Those are just a few of the reasons he gives, and there are many more. Some are very heartfelt, like his penchant for rescuing animals and being reliable. But if you are trying to present yourself in the best light possible, some things are best left to the imagination, or at least to the third date. There is such a thing as being too honest and too self-deprecating. It makes you look like you have zero self-esteem, and that is not attractive. Calling yourself “Handsome Paul” and saying such things doesn’t help either.
Ok, that’s all I’ve got—give me your thoughts, rants, raves, comments. Just don’t tell me about your skin care regimen.

Ground Control to Major Tom...

2011-04-13T13:44:00.001-07:00

OK Y’all,
There is a serious problem affecting 99.9% of the general population of people ages 18-45. It’s a disease that is easily prevented and commonly discussed, but rarely do people know they have it until the infection has cleared. It affects the neurological pathways of the body, eating away at precious brain function, and it’s high time we banded together and did something about this devastating malady. That’s right, I’m talking about Parked Up Socialization Syndrome, or PUSSy. Some FAQ’s about this travesty of an ailment are listed below. Please, read up on this horrible disease so you can prevent it in your own life and help those who have fallen victim to it before it’s too late.
What are the signs and symptoms of PUSSy?
The number one sign that someone is developing this disease is the sudden and permeating presence of a member of the opposite sex in the victim’s daily life, aka becoming ‘parked up.’ This parasitic relationship causes the victim to lose the ability to call, text, email, or otherwise contact their friends and family whom they used to see on a very regular basis, aka ‘pitching them in the river.’ Doctors believe this sudden change of neural function is due to the victim’s head becoming lodged in their partner’s rectum at a very deep level, thus suffocating the areas responsible for rational thought and feeling. The victim now solely socializes with the partner of the opposite sex. Victims lose the ability to think for themselves in the singular, and use words like “we” and “us” when describing their day to day activities. The victim will also be unable to host or attend social functions, and on the rare occasion that they do, they will leave early, isolate themselves from the rest of the group with their opposite sex partner, and be unable to be tolerated by those who enjoy keeping their food down, as nauseating public displays of affection are common with the victim and their partner. Additional symptoms include a complete 180 in behavioral tendencies, again due to the loss of neural function. These tendencies can range from minor idiosyncrasies to major turns of events, such as a sudden affinity for pets where there was none before.
What treatment is available for PUSSy? Is it curable?
Unfortunately the only cure for PUSSy is the eradication of the opposite sex partner, either by forcible means or by the partner’s detachment to find another host. This detachment or eradication is hard to predict and in some cases never happens at all, leaving the victim as good as dead to their friends and family. Traditional treatment options have had limited success at best, and have historically only proved to intensify the disease in the victim. Traditional methods have included verbally bashing the victim for their lack of contact, teasing, disengagement by friends and family, and overt insults to the partner. All of these methods simply serve to isolate the victim and their partner even further, thus deluding the victim into thinking that the partner is the only source of socialization, relief, and understanding from the disease. Alternative treatments are being investigated at this time, but unfortunately the best method is still to allow this disease to run its course and hope the victim can clear the infection on their own.
How do I know if I have PUSSy?
As mentioned previously, many times the only way to know one has this horrible infestation of the mind is to clear the infection and retrospectively diagnose oneself. Rarely, victims will come to the realization during an uncommon moment of clarity, usually when their heads are not attached to, or inserted in, their partner’s rectum. If this happens, immediate steps must be taken to alleviate the symptoms. Remediation includes spending copious amounts of time with the abandoned friends, reduced contact with the host, and resuming daily function as a singular entity as much as possible. Alas, many victims experience a difficult and serious withdrawal from their host and ultimately relapse multiple times or even for good.
So folks, please don’t let this happen to you. As you can see, it’s ugly, and it just gets worse. Prevention now!

Lovin, Touchin, Squeezin...

2011-01-26T13:12:00.000-08:00

OK Y’all,
So it’s looking like The Big E is ridin’ solo this year for Valentine’s day again…and really, I don’t mind because it sure beats getting a non-committal gift for someone you only sorta like but just started dating and don’t want to look like an ass for not getting them anything type of situation that I had last year. I mean, there are potholes galore when you have any type of dating situation going on anytime from January 1 through February 13, so I find it best to just avoid dating if you can until Feb 15. You have at least a few months to figure out if they’re worth shelling out some ducats before you have to commit, and if they’ve had a birthday in Jan or Feb, then you’re golden til December!
So in honor of my singlehood this year, I have compiled a list of my favorite songs that glorify the best love there is—self-love. Really, where else can you have two dates for Friday night? Hello, left hand! Hello, right hand! Let’s have a party! These songs are in no particular order, just the order I happened to think of them.
1. Billy Idol—Dancing With Myself: oh Billy, you of the bleached coif and snarled lip, how rough and ready I’m sure you treat your poor drug addled self when you’re down and out. And as a girl who loves to dance, I can’t imagine a better partner than moi. Good choice, Billy. At least you’re not getting the groupies pregnant.
2. Prince—Darling Nikki: Errbody knows Prince is one filthy little androgynous man, and picking songs about doing it from any of his albums is like shooting fish in a barrel. This particular gem is about doing it, with yourself, and letting Prince see what he can come up with lyrically to encapsulate such an experience, interspersed with his squeals of delight. He truly is the Prince of All Things Carnal.
3. Cyndi Lauper—She Bop: I have to admit, when I was a kid, I really liked this video. I thought the mouse and Cyndi had a thing for Lennon glasses. I didn’t know they had gone blind from touching themselves too much! I was 5! I didn’t know what ‘the danger zone’ and going south to get you some more meant. Now that I’m a big girl, I get it…and then I get it.
4. Faith No More—Epic: I first heard this song when hanging out with my cousin, who is 4 years older than me, back in the early 90s. She was a headbanger of sorts and listened to a lot more rock music than I did, so I was quite intrigued by this particular song as it was not quite metal but not quite rap. I listened to it many times and enjoyed watching the video with the fish in it. And then years and years later someone informed me that the subject of this song was not, in fact, world domination as I had thought. DUH.
5. The Vapors—Turning Japanese: Basically all this guy didn’t put in the song was how he licked all the color off the first picture he had of his girlfriend, so he had to turn to x-rays. Oh, wait….
6. The Divinyls—I Touch Myself: The most blatantly obvious of all the entries, this song pulls no punches about its subject, which is apparently a good thing for me because I don’t read between the lines very well.
7. The Georgia Satellites—Keep Your Hands to Yourself: While this song may not be outright a song about self-love, it is in theory. Because I ask you, gentle reader—if this young man is constantly turned down by his paramour, what devices is he left to employ? His own bad self, that’s what. Guess who’s milking that cow now, sweetie??
8. Tina Turner—What’s Love Got To Do With It?: Again, not outwardly about self love, but ol’ Proud Mary is getting pretty worked up over this boy that causes her pulse to react. I’d venture a guess and say that she didn’t spend her time thinking of him trying to keep her hands occupied with knitting.
9. The Violent Femmes—Blister In the Sun: this guy is staining his sheets and doesn’t know why? I got two words for you buddy—dirty socks. They go straight in the laundry when you’re done and you don’t have to worry about your sheets being hard anymore.
Alright! That’s all I’ve got. Leave me your comments and favorites! And HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY!!

Young Guns

2010-12-16T13:24:00.001-08:00

OK Y’all,
So I’ve noticed a trend lately in the dating scene that is a little odd to me. You see, growing up, Big E was the youngest or one of the youngest in her group of friends. It was not uncommon for her to be ostracized for her nubile status either. Naturally as she grew older, she made other friends, but even they were older or around her same age—then a strange thing started happening. As Big E got older, the boys she met started getting younger. She was no longer the youngest bird getting her fly on at the club. She was starting to be the puma prowling the dance floor, fist pumping to MJ because she actually remembered when he was black, while all the young’uns stared at her. So what did she do? She embraced it and started giving these lesser aged fellas a second look. And that brings us to the present.
I don’t know what it is, but here lately I’ve gone out with at least two boys who were significantly younger than me. I’m not talking jail bait, because I’m not THAT old myself, but young enough to where if we were really old we might die at the same time. I met these boys through random encounters with friends, and it wasn’t encounters where you would typically find much younger people in attendance like, say, a Justin Bieber concert. So I went with it, and in my handful of dates with these fellas, I realized that there were advantages and disadvantages to training a pup as opposed to trying to teach an old dog new tricks. My take:
1. Younger guys may not have the “experience” you’re looking for. Especially if you are a gal like myself of seasoned tenure and this ain’t your first rodeo. Younger guys have sometimes not had the opportunity to really develop the skills necessary to make your time together worthwhile. This is mainly because their opportunities have generally come at frat parties when severely inebriated and/or with young women of the same inexperienced ilk who probably have only heard the term “g-spot” in a really bad R&B song rhymed with “bedrock” (don’t ask me how I even know that).
The upside of this lack of know-how? You can train them to do what YOU want them to do. So if you’ve got a few tried and true favorites in your pantheon of moves, you can share them and make sure they are perfected with frequent practice. However, this does require your willingness to train, and willingness to be an encouraging coach. If you don’t feel like putting the time in, I understand. But just think—those young men are going to get older, and they’re STILL not going to know what to do, and then they’ll end up dating me and making me really unhappy.
2. Younger guys may lack comprehensive knowledge of iconic events from the decades past, because they weren’t alive yet. This happens to me all the time even with guys who are the same age as me, because I’m basically an 80’s music idiot savant, but it’s especially evident in the Gen Y set. If you weren’t born by the time the first Back to the Future came out, then there’s going to be a weensy generational gap to bridge for yous and me. It’s hard for me to feel comfortable making reference to Hall and Oates when you think that I’m describing a way to transport grains. And quite frankly, there is no upside to this. I think everyone should have at least a working knowledge of decades prior to their existence no matter what decade that is. I’m a huge fan of Andy Gibb. Granted he was hosting Solid Gold by the time I ever laid eyes on him, but I believe he and Victoria Principal had what it took to make it. Damn that cocaine! He could have been your everything! He WANTED to be!
3. Younger guys may not be as pecuniarily flush as you would like them to be, i.e., they’re broke. That’s extremely common these days amongst any age of person, but it does seem to skew toward the less aged rather than the more aged. And if you are interested in having a date paid for, this may not be your best route of affection. I have worked very hard over the past 15 years, supported myself for the past 10, and I’d really like to not have to support someone else. Or pay for his books. I’m not saying that I don’t appreciate someone who is really trying and maybe just doesn’t have the cashflow they need right way. I’m just saying those guys should maybe get some money from dear old Dad before attempting to take me out to dinner.
4. Younger guys are not as interested in commitment. I know, I know….NO guy is interested in commitment. I get it. Hell, I have plenty of women friends who aren’t interested in commitment. My point is, younger guys tend to want to play the field a lot more. The world is their oyster, and we ladies are but pearls. Many, many pearls of all shapes and sizes that these boys want to make sure they shuck right out of our shells. And this is why if you’re looking to get serious, you may be looking at the wrong fisherman. Because if he’s not done oyster trolling, you’re going to get shucked over. The upside, though, is that if you are a lady who is not interested in commitment, or you’ve just come off of a bad breakup and need an ego boost, there’s nothing like some young meat to set you right. You’ll feel like the sophisticated older woman for the night, and he will revere you as the experienced hottie that showed him a thing or two. As long as he’s not the young man in #1 who isn’t quite up to par in the horizontal mambo.
Alright, that’s all I’ve got…let me know what you think!

The Business of Minding Your Own Business

2010-11-08T14:01:00.001-08:00

OK Y’all,
So it’s been a while since I’ve posted, and that’s mainly due to the fact that I ain’t got squat to write about. This is what is known in common parlance as a proverbial “dry spell” for the ol’ Big E, and I gotta say, it’s been alright so far except for the fact that I cannot for the life of me get my Mater Familias off my back about being a SINK (Single Income, No Kids). See, I used to be quite proud of my immediate family because they never hounded me for a son-in-law or grandkids. They never said things like “when are you going to give me some sweet grandbabies to play with?” so I never had to reply with things like, “after you die” or “why should I when the rest of my family is so busy procreating out of wedlock?” So it worked out pretty well for the most part and I went on living the single life, blogging, and generally enjoying myself. Then suddenly the idea of being a DINK or a DICK (Dual Income No Kids or Dual Income Couple-a Kids) became the unflinching, laser focus of what I was lacking in my life by dear old Madre. Why, you ask? Because the two of us are thinking about starting a business and me being single is being singled out as the ONE reason why it’s not practical. Forget the fact that we know nothing about being small business owners, or that my dad has to approve all long term capital outlay that involves family money, or any of that. It’s the fact that, “well, honey, I just worry about you being able to pay your bills…if you had a husband this wouldn’t be a problem at all….” Right. So what if I did have a husband? Let’s entertain some scenarios for a minute. Scenarios that are all too common these days.
1. What if he was a big fat piece of shit who sat on his ass all day sucking up government funds while feigning and illness that’s incurable or permanently debilitating and I STILL couldn’t support myself because of this dead beat parked up on my couch? What then??? Yeah. Exactly.
2. What if he’s a guy who seems fine on the outside, and me being too proud to say anything, is secretly a wife beater or strung out on prescription pills all day and I struggle to cover up for him day in and day out while he acts like Gary Busey after a hard night on the Vegas strip in board meetings and ends up unemployed and living on my dime?? Ok. Great.
3. What if he’s a complete slimeball who cheats all over the place and ends up getting some bimbo preggers while I’m at the office slaving away trying to earn a buck to get him something nice for Christmas, and he comes home and announces he’s moving to Boca with Big Tits Betty and I am left holding the cards, the mortgage, and the car payment?? Would you be happy then? Fine. I’ll get right on that.
Long and short of it is folks, I’m not getting married any time soon. I’d have to meet Mr. Right immediately after you read this post and proceed to fast track it to a picket fence, and even then it’d be at least 6 months. So, let’s focus on what we can do—save up some money, get a nice little equity loan, find a business partner—and most of all, lay off Big E and her singlehood. There’s nothing I can do about it, and really nothing I want to do about it at this point. And that’s all good with me.

Paging Cupid...

2010-09-10T07:45:00.000-07:00

OK Y'all,
So a friend of mine emailed me the other day with a proposal (and not one of the indecent ilk). He wanted to know if I would be interested in meeting a gentleman he works with. Of course I said yes, because everyone knows that you don't meet new people by sitting at home with your cats watching King of Queens re-runs at 6 and 6:30 on TBS--not that I would know anything about that AT ALL, but still. My friend gave me a basic description of said fella, and I inquired about a few other things, and this guy sounded like he might be a winner. I'll keep you posted on that. But what got me thinking was this idea of the "fix-up" and the process behind it. Allow me to pontificate for a moment.
The first thing that comes to mind when you think of someone is of critical importance, because that right there either puts them in the "Inbox" or the "Recycle Bin" of dateable prospects for your friends. It seems over the years I have earned the reputation, and deservedly so, of being a funny girl with a bad attitude and a penchant for the menfolk, gaudy jewelry, and glitter--a hooker with a heart of gold, if you will. And really, I'm good with that. It's a helluva lot better than being the one who has a giant mole on her face and got knocked up on purpose to try and trap her ex-boyfriend. Again, not that I know ANYBODY like that, just an example I'm throwing out there. So when my friends et al think of me, I am sure the image that comes to mind is of me at Studio 54 with some sort of glittery dress and even glittery makeup on, dancing with a swashbuckling younger gentleman as we laugh at my jokes and sip our martinis. In fact, I'm positive that's what they see now that I've written this. Go ahead, I'll give you a minute to marinate and let it really play out...
Ok, back to the blog in 3...2...1...
The point of this is, when these friends meet eligible bachelors in their every day dealings, their opinion of you has to be positive or they wouldn't bother trying to fix you up with said bachelor. Obviously if they are your friends they like you to a certain extent, but I believe it really says something extra about your character that they are willing to subject another stranger to you.
The other thing that strikes me about this situation is that your friends have to know what you are looking for in a potential partner before they set you up, and that can be a tricky thing sometimes. If you're really close friends, then they know you better than you know yourself, which, if you're anything like me, is a whole other blog to write about why they are still your friends. But if your friend is a new one, or one that you don't see as much of as you'd like, they may have to do some homework. What I like about my fix up is that my friend asked me if I had any interview questions before he set things into motion, and asked if I would like a group date or just a one on one. I appreciate this tactic and find it wise. You don't want to be on a solo blind date with a Marilyn Manson impersonator at the local rave when you are more of a football, beer and wings kind of lady. So if you're going to set up your friends, be sure to get the dealbreakers and provide support. They will thank you later, even if the date isn't a huge success. And you will thank yourself for being such a stand up matchmaker. It's common courtesy and that's something we are in short supply of these days, people!
So, what do you guys think of fix ups? Good, bad, ugly? Let me know. And wish me luck. I'm going to go find my best glittery eyeshadow.

Propositioning For Dummies

2010-08-05T08:40:00.000-07:00

OK Y’all,
So I was out on Facebook getting my social network on when I came across an article a friend of mine posted from Yahoo. It was about a woman in Ohio who supposedly discovered her husband had married another woman in Florida and they had posted all the pictures up on the ol’ FB for the world to see. Obviously feeling a little disappointed, she took her side of the story to the national news media (because isn’t that what we all want to do when we’re hurt and angry?). Of course Hubs denied that they were ever technically and legally married, and said she knew about the other woman and the marriage. To which I reply, “DUDE. Who gives a shit if you’re ‘technically’ married or not, you went through with a huge to do with pictures and video to prove that you did in fact marry ceremonially at least, proceeded to have 2 kids, and then went and got yourself another ‘wife.’ The technicality of your first marriage should be the least of your karmic worries!” And that got me thinking even more about some recent events (over and above what happened to inspire my last post) that have transpired in my own life that have left me at a serious loss for not only words, but my lunch as well. These things are truly vomit inducing and make one doubt the future of the human race.
First off, I incurred a new dating prospect. A guy I had met briefly a while back who got in touch with me (again with that marvel of modern technology, Facebook) and asked for my number. Great! I thought. Perhaps this will be a fun adventure. Sure enough, this fella called me and we talked on the phone. We discussed fun stuff like work and going out. We joked around about drinking beer and sitting in a kiddie pool on my deck. He mentioned taking me on a date. Even better! I thought. I went to sleep feeling pretty positive. I woke up to a text request from ol’ boy asking for a naked picture to get his day started off right. Yes…you need to go back and read that again. The messages just got worse from there. One even mentioned sending me a picture of a very sensitive area of my anatomy in exchange for the servicing of said area. Now, gentle reader, I will tell you I am a very open person who is not easily offended and is usually the one doing the offending if the truth be told. But I find it not only tacky and tasteless but downright rude to say such things to a gal that you don’t even know and haven’t even been out with yet—in other words, ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? Obviously my sense of humor was sorely misconstrued the night before, or this guy is one Penthouse Letter short of a compendium. So what did I do? I advised this young man to calm down and see if he even liked me first before professing his undying devotion to Mrs. Peabody and the Lotus of Love. Needless to say I won’t be answering his calls anymore.
Second on my list was an email exchange with a co-worker. Let me preface by saying that in all honesty, I didn’t think this young man really liked me that much. He hardly talks to me at work functions, and though we have joked around on occasion, he really does not seem to want to be part of my extended network. I saw him the day before the email exchange at a work training thing, and we shared a joke and that was it. No other conversation. I had congratulated him a while ago on his recent fatherhood, but before the work training, I had not spoken to him in weeks upon weeks. This was fine by me, as he lives in another state, is married, and did I mention JUST HAD A BABY. So when I get an email that starts out innocuous enough—it was about the joke we had been chuckling over—I of course replied and started what I thought was a discussion about an upcoming work trip. Things quickly turned to a not so platonic tack and requests for pointers and personal instruction on “indoor sports” became the topic. Again, I am not the one to talk to about appropriate conversations most of the time, but friends, this was uncalled for. I tried to steer the conversation back to safer ground and fortunately signed off for the day before I ended up in a loss of consortium lawsuit.
Last but not least was another email exchange with an old friend. This fella was what we would call in common parlance a “hook up buddy” who in recent months had acquired himself a lady friend, and by lady friend I mean a serious enough one to have changed the—yep, you guessed it—Facebook status to “in a relationship with.” I simply dropped him a note just to say hello since we don’t usually talk when either one of us is parked up with someone else. I promptly receive an email asking how I am as well, and could I give him my phone number again since he’s lost his contacts recently? I obliged, as it seemed to be a simple enough request, and he then proceeded to promise to call in the wee hours very soon to procure some sweet sweet lovin’. I was a bit taken aback, as I thought he was still hugged up with his bird, what with it being on his page and she also still having a picture of the two of them as her default profile picture. I asked what had happened to the “in a relationship” status, to which he replied “yeah, yeah, yeah.” I’m not sure if you know what that means, reader, but I do—that means he’s trying to get his creep on and hoping I’ll drop trou with no questions asked. Unfortunately for him, I was born at night, but not last night. He can call me all he wants, and text me, and whatever else, but these gams are glued shut until further notice.
In all of this, I felt two things—disgust and pity. Disgust at what these guys are (failing at) trying to do, and pity for the women involved with them. I understand that everyone has extenuating circumstances from time to time, but there’s no gray area here. It’s cut and dried and out there on Facebook for Pete’s sake. I was appalled at what lengths these men would go to just for the possibility of a temporary fix and how ridiculously stupid they were acting to get it. I know I’m a pretty lady with a lot to offer, but I don’t offer it to just everyone, and it offended me that these men would even attempt to obtain what I’ve got without regard for anyone else. Part of me says I ought to know by now, but part of me still wants to believe that good guys exist. So please, for the sake of everyone you know, be a decent person. And for the sake of me, don’t do that shit, because I will rake you over the coals in a public blog without mercy.

Hallmark? We Don't Need No Stinking Hallmark!

2010-08-03T11:14:00.000-07:00

OK Y'all,
So the Big E has had a tough time recently, boy trouble as it were, and she's been pretty upset about it. And like all red-blooded American females with a creative streak, she decided to channel her pain and anguish into a more productive outlet instead of sitting around stewing over revenge tactics (though if you're ever interested, let me know, I've got a ton of 'em). So what did she do? She came up with her own little set of greeting cards that would express her sentiments in a fun and exciting way! Doubtful that these will ever make it to the shelves, but honestly, it's Hallmark's loss. Because creativity is something that is not in short supply for Big E, and she is more than capable of printing these little ditties herself. Holla if you see one you need! Here goes:

1. OUTSIDE: Congratulations!!!
INSIDE: You tossed your yogurt in the wrong girl! Enjoy Fatherhood!

2. OUTSIDE: Dinner for Two: $60
Drinks after dinner: $20
Box of condoms: $7
INSIDE: Forgetting to use them : PRICELESS.

3. OUTSIDE: Pearls are white,
Like the load that you blew,
INSIDE: Here's hoping the baby
Actually looks like you! Congratulations!

4. OUTSIDE: You've really started something in my heart!
INSIDE: too bad you already started something in another woman's womb! Congratulations!

5. OUTSIDE: Baby, you touch my heart in so many ways--
INSIDE: Unfortunately you only had to touch her cervix once. Have a happy 9 months!

6. OUTSIDE: Darling, you gave me butterflies in my stomach--
INSIDE: You'll also be giving her child support! Have a great life!

7. OUTSIDE: Honey, you give me hope--
INSIDE: That there will be one more Assistant Manager of the Month at Waffle House in 18 years! Congratulations!

8. OUTSIDE: You make my heart skip a beat!
INSIDE: Too bad you decided to skip birth control when you cheated on me! Best wishes!

9. OUTSIDE: Sweetheart, I'm really falling for you--
INSIDE: It's too bad you fell into her vagina first! Hugs and kisses!

10: OUTSIDE: Recipe for a Family:
INSIDE: Start with 12 beers
1 narcissistic asshole
1 Unassuming Ditz
2 tsp. Baby Batter
Combine with a complete lack of self and birth control and a dash of gut wrenching guilt and bake at 98.6 degrees for 9 months. Voila! Instant family!

11. OUTSIDE: We're really going to miss you
INSIDE: By we, I mean me and your dignity. Happy Trails!

12. OUTSIDE: If I could change one thing...
INSIDE: I would've had you pull out of her as fast as you pulled out of our relationship. Mazeltov!
Alright! that's all I've got! Share your ideas and comments!

Six Degrees of Separation

2010-07-15T13:13:00.000-07:00

OK Y’all,
So I was laying on my couch drinking an entire bottle of pinot grigio and incoherently babbling to my cat in an attempt to figure out what went wrong in my last dating foray when I had an idea. No, it wasn’t that I shouldn’t have had the whole bottle of wine, or even that I shouldn’t be talking to a cat, but this idea of Degrees of Dating. It’s not degrees as in education, but more degrees in terms of measurement—temperature and distance. Just to make it fun, I’ve come up with my own Six Degrees of Dating (not to be confused with Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon, though I’m sure if I trace it back far enough I’ve probably dated him by association at some point).
1. 0 degrees (or 32 degrees if you are keeping it strictly Fahrenheit)--this is sort of a double duty degree—it could represent the freezing point of a relationship, where one or both of you decides to throw in the towel, hang it up, dump or be dumped, etc. It could also represent the lack of interest when one party is interested in the other but the feeling is not mutual. You decide. Either way, baby, it’s cold outside.
2. 65 degrees—I’m a fan of this degree for many reasons. I see it as the point to where you’re not really sure about the new person you’re dating and you’re trying to keep it a little cooler than usual before you haul off and get into the deep end. It could be that he/she has a reputation about town and you’re still doing your research, or it could be that they have a few things you need to inquire about before you decide to give it your all, like habits and what have you. 65 is the perfect temp to idle for a while and check out your situation, and it’s also a smart strategy so you don’t go from 0 to boiling too fast and end up blowing a gasket. You could also consider this the “time out” degree, as in, cool off, take a step back, and re-evaluate before you do or say something stupid.
3. 75 degrees—Most people are comfortable being outside when it is 75 degrees relative to the humidity, and this is the point in the relationship where you start to get comfortable with each other. You’re going out more, learning all the things you have in common, and meeting each other’s friends. You’ve decided that at 65 everything checked out so you want to turn up the heat a little. Just make sure you don’t stay at 75 forever in the beginning stages of a relationship, because that spells doom. You get too comfortable and you never raise your temperature, you’re going to be sitting around 5 years from now wondering why he/she hasn’t proposed. It’s like the 75% rule—you’re ¾ of the way there, but where’s the other 25%? Is it ever going to make a complete pie chart? Of course after your relationship is on solid, committed ground, 75 is pretty good. You don’t want to be too comfortable here either, so make sure you do something to bring it up to boiling every now and again, but you can spend a lot of time at 75 and be perfectly happy in the long run. You like 75% of what this person’s about, and the other 25% is tolerable.
4. 100 degrees (or 212 for you Fahrenheit-loving Red White and Blue Bleeding Americans)—This is the boiling point—the point where the stars have aligned, all is right with the world, the birds are singing, and the sun is shining. Your amour is perfect in every way, right down to the adorable way he/she drools all over your side of the pillow. You want to share the drool eternally! You want to be there to share every experience, tackle every obstacle, and smell every fart! Good for you! The only problem is, when you hit boiling, you can’t stay there forever. You can only boil for so long before you boil over or you run out of steam. So be careful. Cool it back down to 65 and take stock. It’s hard to do, but it’s going to save you some hassle and possibly keep you from spending the next third of your life going from 0 to boiling and back again. That’s hard on a radiator and it’s hard on a heart.
5. 180 degrees—Ah, the old 180. It’s a classic term used for a complete change in tack, as in “I thought we were getting along great, then he does a complete 180 and dumps me! As if!” Sometimes a 180 is a good thing, if someone’s really turned their life around, but a lot of times the 180 is used in a derogatory sense. I don’t have any words to explain how shitty a 180 can make you feel until you’ve lived it. Anybody is capable of it and you never know when it’s going to strike. But when it does, I bet I know the first words out of your mouth.
6. 360 degrees—I like to use this degree to describe two phenomena—When you are stuck in a vicious cycle of breaking up and making up, thus bringing you full circle in your relationship over and over and never getting out; and when you have come full circle and are ready to stop doing what you’re doing because you see what’s coming and it’s getting you nowhere fast. I like it better in the latter sense, but not everyone has the sense to pull a 360 that way. It’s unfortunate because it usually ends up leading to another 360 of the former sense and then they can’t see the forest for the trees.
Alright, that’s all I’ve got! Let me know what you think!

Wookin' Po Nub...

2010-06-22T08:24:00.000-07:00

OK Y’all,
So I was in a movie kind of mood the other night, and I couldn’t find anything on the cable movie channels, so I turned to my DVD collection. I picked a classic—Urban Cowboy. For those of you not familiar with this lil’ gem, it’s about a fella named Bud who moves from a small town in Texas to a medium small town in Texas and meets a gal named Sissy at Gilley’s, the local watering hole. They get married, move into a trailer, get in a fight over mechanical bullriding, cheat, and get back together after foiling a robbery, all in the span of about 6 weeks. It’s a fun movie to watch if you are in the mood for some redneck intrigue, and it certainly makes you wonder whatever happened to Mickey Gilley. As I was watching it, I got to thinking about the kind of people Bud and Sissy were—simple, blue collar, poorly educated, and viscerally driven. They have no concept of what life is like outside of their tiny little hamlet; they essentially don’t know any better and don’t want to. And you know what? On a very basic level, their lives indicate that ignorance is bliss. If you don’t know that there’s anything better, if you believe what people say at face value and allow your thoughts and feelings to stay simple and naïve, you can be happy. And I think that’s where I’ve got a problem: I’m too smart for my own good, or at least I’ve learned the hard way too much for my own good. It makes me sad in a way, because I can’t ever take anyone at their word—especially when it comes to dating, and that’s exactly where trust matters the most. When I was younger and just starting out on my dating journey, I believed my boyfriend/date/whatever when he said he hadn’t called because he was out late with friends/stuck at work/whatever. He loved me—how could I not believe him, and how could he not be honest with me at all times? It seemed easy enough. I was always honest with him. When you’re in love, you’re always above board! Boy, did reality come crashing down around me and quick. Blindsided doesn’t even begin to cover it. And that was just the beginning of my difficult and painful education about the inner workings of the human heart. Since then, it seems like I’ve seen it or heard it all, and quite frankly, it’s made me a wary and suspicious person. It’s made me into someone who can’t take a compliment without wondering what the complimentor is hiding or trying to butter me up for. It’s caused me to suspect less than honorable intentions and subterfuge in even the most innocuous of missed connections. And unfortunately, it’s proven me to be right in a HUGE majority of cases. It's disappointing and more than a little upsetting that I am too self-aware to be happy. I would love to be that small town girl with wide eyed optimism who doesn’t know any better and has the myopic vision of a simple heart. It makes me wish I didn’t know now what I didn’t know then. But I do, and the force is strong with this one. I am working on how to deal with it--until then, I guess I can blog about it.

You Gotta Start 'Em Early

2010-05-19T12:11:00.000-07:00

OK Y’all,
So there’s this problem I used to have, and I thought I had conquered, or at least calmed it down enough not to drive myself crazy. But it seems that though I have tried, it still comes back to haunt me from time to time despite the fact that I am all too aware that it’s happening. It’s the problem of “expectations,” or more specifically, “high expectations,” aka “getting your hopes up.” I don’t know why I have them anymore, at least not for other people, because years and years and YEARS of experience have taught me that the minute you put even the most infinitesimal expectations on someone, they inevitably let you down. And it’s only getting worse out there, folks. Not only have expectations become the stuff of myth when dealing with dating partners, but it’s seeping into our collective consciousness too. How many times do you say to yourself on a daily basis, “man, does anybody even CARE anymore?” when dealing with the customer service industries? I know! Me, too.
I was pondering this latest bout of Am-I-Really-Crazy-Or-Do-People-Just-SUCK-itude when it occurred to me that my placement of expectations and the lessons learned by subsequent crushing of them happened quite early on in my life. Like kindergarten early. See, I used to be kind of a flirt at age 5. Seriously—I got in trouble more than once for kissing boys on the playground. So it was only natural that I would expect the boys to like me back. When they didn’t, it cut me, it cut me real deep. Two episodes stand out to me more than the others—picture it, Bristol, 1984. A cute-as-a-button Big E dressed in her tailor made finery (complete with tag reading “Made With Love By Mommy” sewn into the back) was out on the playground when she spies a kid named Andy. He’s got something in his chubby hand that he says is a present, and of course Big E thinks it’s for her. He walks toward her, coming closer, closer…and walks right past, to another girl named Amanda. He gives Amanda a ruby ring he had stolen from his mamaw’s jewelry box (hey, this is Bristol we’re talkin’ about here) and Amanda fawns over it with sickening glee. Big E stomps her tiny oxford clad feet and pouts the rest of the day. The next day on the school bus, Big E feels a tap on her shoulder. It’s Jimmy Yarber, her fellow kindergarten classmate. He says to her that he’s brought her something, and produces a gold metal ring with a red plastic jewel perched atop it. He says that he wanted Big E to have her own ruby ring so he got one for her from the chicken egg machine at the grocery store. He spent a whole quarter on it! Big E proudly dons the ring and walks into Mrs. Tauscher’s class feeling like the best girl in the world.
Cut to first grade—Big E is still not only the cutest girl in her class, but naturally the smartest. She gets her work done, always has examples ready to demonstrate for her “letter of the day” presentations, and knows how to bat her eyelashes for an extra Oreo at snack time. Since she’s a good girl, she always gets to go to recess, but not all of the children are as good as her. Especially not a little boy named Wes Combs. Wes is incorrigible and seems to have a hard time staying in his seat, thus causing him to miss recess frequently and have to sit in the classroom and write sentences. One lovely day, Big E comes in during recess to get a kickball or some sort of game equipment from the room. There sits Wes in all his badassery, writing sentences and generally making a mockery of his education. The teacher assigned to watch him has her head down, reading a book. So what does Wes do before Big E goes back outside? He says, “hey, look at this!” and proceeds to show Big E his tiny, 6 year old wiener. Yep, that’s right—indecent exposure. Big E squeals and runs from the room, still scarred by the experience 25 years later. To this day I don’t know his motivation, but I’m 99% positive he probably saw his dad or his older brother do it and thought it was a good idea.
So what lessons did I learn from these early life experiences?
Lesson #1—there are still nice guys out there.
Lesson #2—those guys usually have don’t stay in from recess because they were bad.
Really though, what it taught me is that I can’t expect every guy to like me, and if I do, that’s my fault. Some guys just aren’t that into you, or they have too many hang ups, or all they want to do is show you their dong. And the minute that you get your hopes up that he’ll call, or take you on another date, or generally act like someone you’d want to be seen with in public is the minute that you can throw all that out the window. People are people, and they screw up. If you have your sights set too high, all you’re going to do is drown when it rains. You have to have a healthy dose of realism when it comes to dating. Trying not to expect too much while still keeping your standards where you want them to be is a tough thing, but it’s not impossible. Trust me, I learned the hard way.

Creating the Perfect Storm

2010-04-26T12:49:00.000-07:00

OK Y’all,
So I’m going to do a little exercise today, and not of the physical variety (though Lord knows I needed to get on THAT wagon a loooooong time ago). I’m going to indulge myself a little and be creative—all for the sake of l’amour. We all have the requisite “list” of things that we want in a partner; some people have a much longer list than others. So I thought, why not create myself a perfect man, piece by piece, using qualities I find in those men I admire, famous and non-famous? It sounded pretty good, so here we go: The Big E’s Perfect Specimen: Exhibit A.
1. Face: Obviously face is going to be first, because let’s “face” it…you’ve got to want to look at this guy every morning and think, Boy howdy! I am one lucky cowgirl! So I will have to go with Paul Walker. He is soooo pretty. I mean, ridiculously blue eyes, sculpted jaw, and lips like pillows of marshmallow crème—what else could a girl want to look at when heavy breathing is involved? Bradley Cooper would be a close second, and though he has limpid pools of gorgeousness for eyes, he’s a little big in the snout for me, which could potentially hinder proper kissing technique. Paul’s got the perfect face for causing me to melt into my socks. I know a lot of girls wouldn’t want a “pretty” boy, they’d want a rugged man, and honestly I can see that. But like I said, if I’m going to wake up and want to shake my own hand for how well I’ve done, Paul can get it done every time.
2. Body: Paul’s a very good contender for this category as well, but he’s a little lean for me. I’d want someone who’s built well but not too skinny. I’m going to go with Gerard Butler in his 300 days. He looks like a guy who would whoop Batman’s ass and still be able to lift heavy furniture without issue, but would certainly go wing for wing with you at the bar. I like how broad his shoulders are and he’s got a cute bum—perfect for squeezing when congratulating him on a job well done after moving said furniture.
3. Voice: I would want him to talk to me like Matthew McConaughey. I love that Southern drawl that sounds like honey dripping off a graham cracker. He’s got to be a crooner too, and for that, nobody beats Michael Buble. That boy has magic in his larynx; I don’t know why in the world he would ever say regular words when he could sing them all and entrance hoards of women into doing his bidding.
4. Sense of Humor: Hands down, Vince Vaughn. He’s dirty, he’s quick, and he will take it to levels you never considered before, all while you’re struggling to catch your breath from laughing so hard. It takes intelligence to be that fast on the draw, to make impromptu connections and non sequiturs that work perfectly. And I want it. BAD.
5. Intelligence: I’m not going to lie; I like to feel like the smart one, but not the one who’s so much smarter that it’s a struggle to hold a conversation. I don’t want some mook, I want a reasonably smart guy who appreciates my predilection for trivia and craftiness. So I am going to have to go with my pal Big Worm. He’s super smart, and probably the only one I consider to be as smart or possibly even smarter than me. He has a fantastic trivia recall, and like me, can’t stand math. If we were truly smart, we’d probably breed our own race of superhumans, but for now I’ll settle for being intellectual counterparts.
6. Romantic Tendencies: I’m the kind of girl who likes attention, and who likes to feel wanted and needed. I like presents, I like compliments, and I like to be taken care of. I want someone who will share my interests, but still have some of his own. I need just the right amount of mush and thoughtfulness combined with a backbone. For that, I would want someone to treat me the way my Dad treats my Mom. He acts like my Mom absolutely hung the moon and the entire world revolves around her. He wants her to have what she wants and he always tells her how pretty she is and how impressed he is with her, but he isn’t a pussy. I really respect my Dad—he’s a man’s man who loves his woman. Paul-Gerard-Matt-Michael-Vince-Worm has big shoes to fill.
Alrighty y’all! That’s all I’ve got. Hit me up if you have comments!

Wishin' and Hopin'...and Buildin' and Directin'...

2010-04-23T14:00:00.000-07:00

OK Y’all,
So I was reading an article today online about a book this lady named Helen Fisher wrote about the 4 “types” of people and how they date. Apparently Helen did some research with a bunch of people looking for love on match.com and translated it all into these biological types that depend on the presence of higher levels of different chemicals in the brain: Explorer, Builder, Director, and Negotiator. If you’d like to read the article, just copy this link: www.yourtango.com/helenfisher. I read through the types and I realized that I am a combo of two of the types: I am a “Builder” and a “Director.” Here’s the article’s description for each and how they tend to date:
“The second type is the Builder, who expresses with serotonin. These people are calm, social, popular, cautious, but not fearful. Very managerial, they're very good at networking, family's very important to them. They're traditional, conventional, often religious.”
“The third type is the Director, expressive of testosterone. They're direct, decisive, tough-minded and often understand music very well because music is very structural. They're competitive, ambitious and very good at spatial relations.”
“The Builder tends to follow rules and schedules, but you've got to take some risks when you're dating. They're also very social and very network-y so they'll take a new date to meet all their friends when the date might just want to spend the night with them.
The Director often thinks dating is a pain in the neck. They want to get to the point. They also make up their mind too fast so in the middle of the date, if they realize this isn't going anywhere for them, they can be very rude. They've got to relax.”
So I think what Helen is trying to tell me is that I am a hard-headed, dirty old man. And really, I’m fine with that. The thing that sort of got me, though, was that basically the article said that any of these types could date any of the others successfully as long as they thought each other were the shizz. I don’t know who wouldn’t think I’m the shizz, but for argument’s sake, let’s take a closer look.
I’m part Builder, so I’m a rule-following, overly cautious social butterfly. Great! I’ll fit right in at the mixer down at the Moose Lodge with all the other virgins in the quilting circle. Then again, I’m part Director, so not only will I compete so viciously with all the other virgins for the last remaining man at the Moose Lodge Mixer that I will completely railroad them all, but when I acquire said man, I’ll find him absolutely abhorrent in the middle of the first date and proceed to point out all his flaws until he cries or runs screaming. And all he really wanted to do was take me home and give me a railroading of his own. Wow. What a future I have ahead of me! I can almost smell the faint stench of desperation that will certainly be oozing off of me in just a few short months of continuing down that path. So what’s a Builder-Director Girl to do? Helen says Relax. I’m just going to keep networking, socializing, and being popular. There’s got to be somebody out there ready to Build and Direct a life with me.

Plop Plop, Fizz Fizz...Oh What A Relief It Is!

2010-03-10T13:48:00.001-08:00

OK Y’all,
So here recently I’ve been guilty of doing something that I hate when other people do. In fact, it’s happened twice in the last six months. No, it’s not the ‘dine and dash,’ though that is completely tasteless. It’s what I like to call the “Slow Fizzle.” It’s when you go out with somebody, and either you’re not feeling them, or they’re not feeling you, or you’re both not feeling each other (up or otherwise) and you’re both too lazy to call the other one and say “hey Bub, this is kinda bleh. You say tomato, I say potato…let’s call the whole thing off, whaddya say?” So you just don’t do anything, nobody calls anybody, you both go AWOL, and frankly neither one of you is all that put out by it.
Like I said, I really hate it when people do that to me, but I have been a two time offender in recent months.
The first guy seemed to be pretty interesting, and I was actually interested in him. He was cute, and smart, and we had people in common. I thought there may be something that came of it, or at least some fun to be had. But the more we hung out, I noticed that he didn’t seem to be all that wild about me for whatever reason. And the more disinterested and distracted he acted, the less interested I became. I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, but there were too many things getting in the way and I didn’t really have that much invested in the process. I decided to give him one last chance, just to see if maybe I was wrong, or just confused with the signals I was getting, but my gut was right. He was the firework in the 9.99 bundle at Crazy Al’s that just didn’t want to spark, no matter how many times you tried to light it. So I thanked him for our date, got in my car, drove home, and didn’t hear from him for weeks. I sent him a text at one point just to make sure he was in fact still alive, and he was. So I just left it at that. It didn’t really bother me because I felt like I was worth more than a lukewarm response. I’m sure he’s fine. I’m fine. It just fizzled little by little and didn’t end with a bang but a whimper.
The second guy I wasn’t so interested in outwardly, but he had a lot of good qualities on paper. I thought I’d at least give him a shot, and he did impress me in a superficial sort of way. He obviously set out to do his best and he really gave it a nice effort. But I just couldn’t get rid of the nagging feeling that I would always be on the lookout for someone better looking. I really wanted to like him. So what did I do? I gave it the old college try. I argued with myself. I tried to talk myself into it. But when I went out of town for a week and didn’t even give him a second thought, I knew I had to let it go. I know that sounds really, really shallow and awful, and I admit that I am a really, really shallow, awful person sometimes, and even with that admission and realization I still couldn’t get past it. I just couldn’t imagine myself with him 10 years down the road. I’m not saying you have to be Dash Riprock, and I’m not saying I’m Hottie McHotness, but I’ve got to see something in your appearance that I like or it’s just not going to work. It’s a primal instinct. Fortunately for me, I think he took my lack of contact as a hint and he progressively slowed the contact as well. Sure enough, I never heard from him after a brief text exchange one evening. I was a complete coward and never bothered to get in touch with him again either. It all worked out in the wash I guess. I don’t condone the Slow Fizzle, but I suppose now I’m just as guilty as the rest of us who’ve done it. I suppose my sentence is to remain single. Fortunately it’s a sentence I’m used to.

Learn From My Fail

2010-02-06T08:31:00.000-08:00

OK Y’all,
So I was reading my newest ladies magazine the other night and they had a breakdown of different types of guys and how to spot them. It was pretty stereotypical, with the brooding intellectual, the surfer dude, and the well-dressed heartbreaker all making an appearance. Reading those descriptions got me thinking about the men I have known or dated in my own life, and led me to create some descriptions of my own. Here’s what I came up with:
1.The Goodyear Blimp: I call this guy a blimp not because he is fat (though the one I dated was a total chubbo) but because he is full of hot air. This guy talks a good game, but when it comes right down to it, he’s got nothing to show for his peacockery. The guy I dated looked great from the outside—a sports career, nice car, good family, attentive nature. He seemed to be exactly what I was looking for as far as ambition and drive, and presented himself as a hard-working, moral person. I had visions of us making a life together and conquering the world with his business savvy and my creativity. What he turned out to be was a failure at life, relying on his parents for a job, a ride, and a place to live. He had no faith, no self-esteem, and he couldn’t give a compliment if his life depended on it. Unfortunately, it took me 2.5 years of my life to finally be done with him, and the humiliating part was, HE dumped ME. Ridiculous!
2.The Rodeo Clown: This guy is a clown not because he’s funny, but because he makes an ass out of himself from all the drama he gets himself into or chooses to be a part of. He’s a rollercoaster of emotional turmoil, and dating him is much akin to riding a bull and trying to stay on for the whole 8 seconds. You’re trying to follow the dips and bucks, but it’s the most frustrating thing you’ve ever tried to accomplish. Well guess what friends? I’m not Lane Frost, and this guy is no good for you, especially if you’re more into pony rides than steer roping. He’s always pining away over some long lost love, or finding himself embroiled in some latent feelings from a “friend” or some mystery person from the past that only revealed themselves when you decide to go out with him. It’s not as bad as it seems, though, because eventually this guy will recede so far into his cocoon of emotional upheaval that he’ll forget to call or text you for weeks. And surprisingly, it’ll not even occur to you until you sit down to write your next blog.
3.The Wolf: this guy is almost the opposite of the Blimp, because he actually does have the qualities you’re looking for and demonstrates them regularly. You get all comfortable being treated like you’re the best stuff on earth besides Snapple, and suddenly the rug gets pulled out from under you. The sweet, loving, well-mannered guy you were dating turns into a total cad. He stops calling when he says he will, breaks plans or makes them and doesn’t show up, and generally turns into a frat boy at midnight—he’s gone from the Sheep to the Wolf. It may take a little while to figure out the Wolf, as his deceptions begin somewhat innocently, with a little extra time elapsing between calls or dates, accompanied by what seems to be a reasonable excuse. But trust me ladies, the time to wise up is not the time that your friend that lives across the street from him tells you that some girl has a moving truck outside his apartment and is hauling all his furniture out. Just a little warning to prepare yourselves—don’t say I didn’t tell you.
4.The Rick Astley: this guy is never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down…until he does it for the 14th time again this week. This poor guy has all the best intentions, and really does mean well, but he’s overextended himself to the point that having a girlfriend is only a theory and not a scientific fact. He’s working full time, into several hobbies, and has a passel of friends that always want to hang out. It’s easy to see why—he’s got personality in spades and is great at one-liners. But this guy is never going to have the time to really devote to your relationship if you’re even vaguely interested in spending more than 10 minutes with him, while he’s awake, and not working, and…..you get my drift. He tries hard, but he’s got too much going on to really make a relationship work, despite his many promises that he will do better. Do both of yourselves a favor and just let this one go. You can always be friends, but you won’t have to sit around for hours after he said he’d be someplace on Friday night.
Ok folks, that’s all I’ve got this week. Hit me up and let me know what you think—rants, raves, comments, questions!

Call 'Em Like You See 'Em

2010-01-19T14:01:00.001-08:00

Ok Y’all,
So I was just hanging out at home the other night when I got a text from a friend of mine who asked me an odd question. He wanted to know if girls judge guys on what kind of phone they have. He was a little worried and self conscious because his phone is sort of a POS and he’s too cheap to get another one, but he still wants to present himself in a decent light for the ladyfolk. I thought about it and honestly I could care less what kind of phone someone has, as long as they call me, you know? My friend was relieved, but it got me to thinking about what other little things I, as a woman, really do take into account when sizing up a guy. Granted, none of these things by itself has caused me to not go out with someone, but in the aggregate I believe it says a lot about a person and their tastes and predilections. Here’s what I’ve come up with off the cuff:
1.Shoes. I’m sorry, but if you’re wearing the new Jordans with a pair of dress pants, you are probably A. Nelly or B. sartorially challenged. I’m not saying that you have to wear the best pair of Cole Haans you can get your hands on, but you have to have a little bit of style. Match your shoe type to the outfit at hand, and try to put a little effort into it so you don’t look like a goof. Same goes for pointy shoes. Men who wear pointy shoes run the risk of looking like they might be going on a date with another man, or they’re next in line for the elf tryouts at Santa’s Workshop. They’re a don’t all the way around, and personally I would rather you wore flip flops in the dead of winter than force me to look at those gawd awful brogans.
2.Fingernails. I don’t understand why, when there’s a Walgreens literally on every corner that sells clippers, that guys can’t cut and/or clean under their fingernails. I have dated a few guys who got regular manicures from me, and they were quite grateful for it, but it always confounded me as to why I had to be the one to keep up with the grooming of their phalanges. So, a little hint, fellas—check your nails once in a while. Cut them, and clean them. It takes a couple of minutes that I promise you will give you hours of enjoyment from the opposite sex.
3.Facial hair. This also falls into the grooming category. I personally find many guys very attractive with facial hair. Hell, my dad has had at least a mustache his entire life and I think he’s a handsome dude, but he’s also 62. Certain types of facial hair need to be reviewed before sporting. My thoughts: Guys who are under 50 probably should forego the ‘stache unless accompanied by a goatee. Beards I can deal with, but it has to be a tidy beard, not like a Joaquin Phoenix on crack beard (“Is there a frog on my head?”) or a ZZ Top type thing. Most ladies also don’t want some scraggly, patchy mess that looks like you got into a fight with a hot glue gun and lost. If you can’t grow it like a man, don’t try to go there. Sideburns are totally ok at any age as long as they are more Brandon Walsh than Elvis. There it is—now go out and get you some chin pubes.
4.Voice and diction. Now, I know that people cannot help a lot of what happens during puberty to affect their vocal cords, but it’s getting ridiculous out there and I feel I would be remiss if I didn’t say something. It’s what I call the classic “David Beckham Syndrome”—a good looking dude that chicks drool over until he opens his mouth and sounds like he just sucked down an entire liter of helium. Not sexy! The same rule applies to guys with excessive sibilance—you just end up sounding like you need some of the aforementioned pointy shoes. Think Sean Connery, Harrison Ford, Matthew McConaughey—those dudes have some speaking skills. You want to have a nice, manly timbre with a pleasing accent. I’m not saying Southern isn’t sexy, I’m just saying there’s a difference between Southern and Redneck. I shouldn’t need an interpreter from the Blue Collar Comedy Tour to help decipher what it is you just asked me because you can’t form words properly. In fact, I love me a nice Southern accent (like Mr. McConaughey), especially when he whispers those 4 little words every girl likes to hear—“I’ll pay for dinner.”
Alright peeps, that’s all I got! Let me know your thoughts, opinions, rants, and raves!!

Keep On Truckin'

2010-01-07T08:08:00.000-08:00

Ok Y’all,
So it’s a new year and I think we can all agree that now’s as good a time as any to make some dating resolutions. It only makes sense that whilst I attempt to overhaul my diet and exercise regimen that I overhaul my outlook on wooing and being wooed by the opposite sex. Here’s what I’ve come up with:
Resolution #1: I will not date out of boredom. There have been a few times in my life where I’ve been in a bit of a dating lull, and to combat the lull, I have made questionable dating choices out of sheer ennui. Now that’s not to say that my dates were not decent people, or that they did not put forth effort, just that I was not quite in the frame of mind to be working toward anything but a good time, or the person I was going out with had a few deal breakers that I knew were not going to be acceptable over the long-term. And you and I both know that can sometimes cause hurt feelings, especially when the person you are going out with is genuinely interested in you but you are not so interested in them. Obviously, being honest about your intentions for the date up front is preferable, but who’s going to want to take you anywhere if you blurt out, “Hey, dudarino, I’m only going out with you because, even though you are ridiculously wrong for me, I couldn’t stand another night of Golden Girls reruns and stale pizza”? I’ll take NOBODY for $500, Alex. But hey, if you’re both bored and just want to hang out with no expectations, then by all means, friends.
Resolution #2: I will not settle for less than I deserve. I have been in several dating situations that were also less than ideal because converse to Resolution #1, I was the one who was more into the relationship. And it ended up causing me some heartache because I went over and above to prove myself to someone who couldn’t have given a shit less. I tend to be that person—trying to prove that I am helpful, fun, smart, whatever. And no one should have to work that hard. As a woman, I want a man who is going to be excited to see me and spend time with me, flattered to have me on his arm at a restaurant/theater/honky tonk/beer pong tournament, and totally pumped at the prospect that my lips might somehow touch his—just because I am me. I want to feel wanted, beautiful, and skinny. And this year I am not going to settle for someone who does not treat me thus.
Resolution #3: I will be honest, but tactful. This one is probably going to be the hardest one for me to keep, because if you’ve met me or even read the last couple of posts, I’m not exactly Nancy Niceness. I tend to err on the side of being blunt with a side of “WTF did she just say to me?!?!” and it gets me in trouble. When I think back on some of the things I have said to boyfriends past, I cringe. And I know in my heart that if they had said those things to me, I would have punched them squarely in the wedding tackle. So this year, I’m going to be my creative best in crafting the harsh words I’m thinking into fluffy pillows of constructive feedback. Will I fail on occasion? Abso-frickin’-lutely. But I’m going to pick myself up and try again, after I apologize profusely and go buy some new lingerie.
Alright, give me your dating resolutions, rants, raves, and comments! Happy new year and happy dating!

It's The Thought That Counts

2009-12-10T12:30:00.000-08:00

OK Ya’ll,
So I was asked this question last year about this time, and I didn’t really feel like I gave a satisfactory answer. A friend of mine who had recently reconnected with an old flame wanted to know what to get him for Christmas. They’d only been seeing each other again for a few months, and though they had dated in the past, it had been many years since they had parted ways. She wanted to know what I thought would be acceptable gift ideas for a fledgling reconnection. I suggested several things—CD, book, DVD of a favorite movie, cologne—but I feel like when people ask me stuff like that, I never have a good answer. The only thing I really know is what constitutes a bad gift. I have been the recipient of said gifts, and also heard several bad gift stories from friends and in my “ladies light reading” periodicals. So here’s my list of what NOT to get for that certain someone you hope to impress, or anyone that has a vagina.
1. A six-pack of Diet Coke. Yes, I read this in the December issue of one of my aforementioned periodicals. It was a story about the author at 16, hoping her adorable boyfriend would get her something rad like Bonne Belle Lip Smackers in Dr. Pepper flavor and a teensy-weensy diamond chip necklace or some shit, and instead he plops a six pack of Diet Coke in her lap like it’s the friggin’ Taj Mahal of Christmas presents. Because, he said, “he knew how much she loved to drink it.” She was crestfallen to say the least. I felt bad for her to have been in the unfortunate situation of getting such a craptacular gift, but also for the fact that she probably thought he was insinuating that she was fat. Poor girl. I will say when I was 16, I got roses. Classy move, High School Boyfriend.
2. A battery recharging station. This little gem of a story came from my aesthetician, Charmin. She’s a whiz at hair removal and, I suspect, body part removal if things get hairy in the figurative sense as well. She said that the first Christmas she and her husband were together as a married couple, he was beside himself with glee at the prospect of her opening his present. It was rectangular, about 14x6, and felt somewhat heavy. Charm, being the girly girl that she is, had all kinds of wonderful things in mind when holding this Pandora’s box of opportunity, suspecting that it might be something in the way of a jewelry coffret with some sort of glittery bauble inside. She said Hubs kept telling her “it’s for both of us” (or bofus, to use common parlance), inferring that she would be happy and he would get laid. She eagerly ripped the paper off on Christmas morning to come face to face with a BRAND NEEEEEWWWW…Battery recharging station! To say that Hubs was in the doghouse for many, many cold nights to come is an understatement.
3. Anything you’ve already eaten or have no use for yourself. My beautiful and cool Aunt Helen fell victim to myriad ridiculously vomitous gifts Yuletide after Yuletide, courtesy of her drunkard of a mother in law, God rest her soul. See, my aunt was not so popular with Mommy Dearest; and so the acrimony MD felt, coupled with her drunken shopping sprees ending in the consumption of half her purchases, left my poor auntie in the clutches of a dysfunctional round robin of horror. One year, she received a banana hanger along with a half eaten jar of cocktail nuts; another year, a base to a punch bowl, sans the actual bowl. There are a host of other poorly chosen trinkets on this list, but out of respect for the dead, I’ll let the above be a lesson to you all: Don’t drink and gift.
4. Chanel No. 5. Now I know that it may sound silly to complain about something as nice as Chanel No.5, and granted, it is a pricey gift. I mean, even Marilyn Monroe said she wore it, and only it, to bed—which is why I wonder if perhaps JFK, and RFK, and Frank Sinatra, and Arthur Miller, etc. had no olfactory nerves, because that stuff STINKS. One spritz and suddenly you smell like the unwashed underpinnings of an 88 year old European woman. And good luck trying to get it off—I think the only thing that will get that smell off of you is skunk spray. So a word to the wise when choosing perfume (and using someone else’s bathroom)—just because you like the way it smells, doesn’t mean everybody else will. Let THEM choose.
Alright, that's all I've got. Let me know what horrible gifts you've gotten in the past and let's all have a Merry Chrismakwanzakkuh!

Name, Rank, and Serial Number

2009-11-24T17:16:00.000-08:00

OK Ya’ll,
So I have to admit something—I love to watch certain reality shows. And one of those shows is about a bunch of crazy bitches who get together for a “bootcamp” with a professional match maker dude who breaks down to them exactly why they are a bunch of crazy bitches and can’t buy a date. Which got me to thinking, I wonder what this match maker would say to me? On the show, he gives each girl a nickname, the sort of moniker one doesn’t want to be saddled with on national television—ones like, Ms. Desperate and Ms. He’d-Rather-Gnaw-His-Own-Arm-Off-Than-Wake-Up-With-You. So I sat down and analyzed a little bit about myself to see what name would fit. Here’s what I’ve come up with as “characteristics” about my persona:
1.Ms. Nerdy—I LOVE trivia games, and my favorite TV show is Jeopardy. You will be hard pressed to beat me at Trivial Pursuit as I am an overachiever in almost everything I do. I am an academic slut. I have a favorite dinosaur and even know a song about it (the Stegosaurus, if you must know). I am fascinated by science (biological, not chemical), how things work, and used to read the dictionary for fun. I also have the Merriam-Webster word of the day emailed to me, and usually already know the meanings. I love dorky jokes and sci-fi movies, but refuse to dress up like Princess Leia until I drop 20 lbs.
2.Ms. Loudmouth—I am ridiculously loud at times, and love nothing more than a giant, bohunkin’, gut-busting laugh. I have been accused of being too quiet when I first meet people, but only because I am observing before I unleash the madness. I will yell, holler, chortle, and generally make a fool of myself at a volume that is best described as “11.” It’s best not to compete with me unless you truly want to get kicked out for disorderly conduct.
3.Ms. Filthy—I have also been accused of being “the dirtiest person I know” by many people, but it seems to be most shocking to the menfolk. I love an off-color joke, and I know a lot of them, and I usually tell them at the aforementioned volume of “11.” I also tend to think or act in a way that has been described as “like a dude,” which I think means that I am generally unapologetic for my crassness and tend to sneak out of a guy’s house at 4 am after sex. I realize that many people may find this unladylike, or uncouth, and it’s not that I am without my manners. I’m fully capable of putting on the good girl personality and hobnobbing with the high falutin’ crowd. But I also find that life is so much more pruriently enjoyable when you’ve heard my version of The Aristocrats.
4.Ms. Class Clown—I make people laugh, end of story. I don’t care what it takes, I will make an utterly ridiculous spectacle of myself if it gets you to crack a smile. I also tend to have a mean streak a mile wide coupled with a quick wit that gets me in trouble a lot. But even though it might get me fired, or get me permanently kicked out of your house, I guarantee it was funny when I said it. If you don’t laugh at least once when I’m around you, then your laugher is broken. Or you have no brain.
So there you go folks. Those are a few of my most outstanding qualities. I’ll let you decide what my Match Maker Moniker should be. I’m sure everyone’s opinion is different, or perhaps you have a combo for me. Let me know!

Open Up and Say Aahh..

2009-10-21T11:41:00.000-07:00

OK Ya’ll,
So it’s been a little bit, but I’m back. The Big E has been a busy girl, doing a world tour of sales knowledge and amazing feats of strength for the people of East Tennessee. While I was traveling the width of the Volunteer State, I got to thinking about a few things, and one of those was K-I-S-S-I-N-G. The long lost are of the smooch is something that I think is one of the most important aspects of a relationship. A bad kiss can ruin your mo faster than anything, and a really good one can turn an “ok guy” into “Holy Shit!” in a total ecumenical about-face. So let me expound upon some of the kissing techniques I find to be the most loathsome of the bunch. You know, so you can be prepared to NOT do these things the next time you go in for the kill.
1.The Jackhammer—This person is of the mindset that if a little action is good, repeated, forceful, thrusting action in your oral cavity is even better. They have not heard the adage “less is more when frenching your friends.” Sometimes this person is so vigorous in their activity that they become The Hummingbird, causing one to feel as though they have been assaulted without even registering what happened because it was all over so quickly. So please, for your safety and the comfort of others, take it slow and take it easy. You do not, however, want to become:
2.The Dead Fish—This person is the polar opposite of the Jackhammer. They feel that exhibiting their affection is best done through the placement of their tongue in your mouth and leaving it there. Their torpor could also be misconstrued as laziness, but in actuality, I believe this person is simply under-informed. Somewhere along the way they have grasped the notion that French kissing is all about putting your tongue in someone’s mouth, but they were absent on day two of the presentation regarding appropriate levels of movement and force. Thus, they employ the Dead Fish, and subsequently remove themselves from your dating pool in one fell swoop.
3.The Python—This poor sap possesses a jaw that becomes unhinged when smooching their partner, and said partner feels that they are, in fact, being consumed by Kaa in the Jungle Book. Sometimes in the heat of passion, one feels the need to kiss a little more deeply or openly, but let’s try not to Hoover someone’s face off, shall we? Not only will it save you a doctor’s visit for TMJ, but it will also instill your date with the confidence that you are not a predatory cannibal with a penchant for herpetology.
4.The Slobberpuss—This fine specimen has salivary glands that work overtime and the product of this hyperactivity usually ends up slathered all over your face. Sometimes the Slobberpuss even enjoys licking their prey to the point of pruniness. My advice to you? Swallow, and swallow often. Do not eat Sour Patch Kids immediately before kissing. And for Pete’s sake, do not let your tongue wander outside of the established parameters of the lips!
5.The Spelunker—This Nightmare on Smooch Street has not mastered the power of retraction. They find that if your tonsils have not been properly polished, then their job has not been completed. Sometimes the Spelunker may just be in possession of an abnormally large tongue and it unintentionally chokes you, or they may just not realize that the mouth is an entryway to the digestive system and thus should be treated like a foyer and not a dining hall. Either way, Gene Simmons called, and he said you’re cramping his style.
Ok peeps! That’s all I’ve got for you. Feel free to leave me your bad kissing stories or reprehensible kissing methods, along with other comments, rants, raves, and questions!

Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band

2009-09-30T12:10:00.000-07:00

OK Ya’ll,
So I’ve been researching a little bit about the subject of loneliness as of late. Everyone knows that there’s a difference between being alone and being lonely, and while it’s nice to be alone (especially when you have a stage 5 clinger on your hands), it’s not all that fun to be lonely. I know a little about both such feelings, seeing as how I live by myself and have ample time to be alone and sometimes that makes me feel lonely. Sometimes it just makes me thankful that all I have to deal with is two cats and a pile of dishes I don’t have to put in the dishwasher if I don’t want to. Anyhoosle, the more I thought about the topic of loneliness, the more I noticed a pattern of behavior that stems from loneliness in most people. Here’s my take on what happens when people stop being polite and start getting real—real lonely, that is:
1.Unplanned pregnancies skyrocket. Loneliness is simply a feeling of isolation and withdrawal from positive human interaction. And what happens when people who want some interaction don’t get it? They go looking for it at the closest establishment that serves up liquor and loosely moral-ed members of the opposite sex. And what does that lead to? Doing it! Doing it under any circumstances, including without the prerequisite blood test and prophylactic devices! And we all know that the result of such interactions is many times a single mom at the PTA meeting with an embarrassing story to tell when it comes around to signing up for the couple’s retreat. I’m not saying it’s wrong to go out and get you some strange when you feel like it, but for Pete’s sake, make sure you’ve got some form of birth control about you when your wits aren’t.
2.Feelings develop unexpectedly. I don’t know how many times I’ve seen it happen—people date someone out of loneliness and nothing better to do and end up mired in a ridiculous situation they would never have gotten into if they hadn’t been so tired of sitting on the couch on a Friday night. Before you convince yourself that Bud ‘just needs some inspiration’ to get a job but is otherwise a great catch despite living in his mother’s basement, try taking a good hard look in the mirror, Sissy. You’re lonely and you’re letting this whole doomed exercise in failure get started because you’re bored. Ask yourself—if I had a whole passel of eligible suitors, would I be looking twice at this dimwit, knuckle-dragging cretin? I doubt it. So get a cat instead—they’re a lot more company, and they don’t ever make you switch the channel to NASCAR when you’re trying to watch an America’s Next Top Model marathon.
3.The plug doesn’t get pulled. I’ve seen this one a lot, too—people let things go on and on and on because they’re afraid of being lonely. So they stay in a galactically stupid dating situation for months, sometimes years, on end. They think that “he/she will come around” or that the person will wake up one day and realize, “hey, I’ve really had an epiphany and I think I’m going to stop sleeping around on you, taking all your money, ignoring your pleas to spend time together, and be an upstanding human being that values your feelings!” Guess what, sweet cheeks? It ain’t happening. Like I always say, GOMO—Get Over it, Move On. There’s nothing left of this relationship but a hollowed out husk of a love story that never should have happened. What’s the worst that can happen? Oh yeah—they get half your stuff and joint custody every other weekend.
4.You show up on an episode of Cheaters. It is possible to be in a relationship and be lonely. Especially if one of the parties is not exactly home all the time or not attentive to the needs of the other. Long distance relationships are breeding grounds for cheating. If you don’t see each other at least once a month, there’s going to be some seriously pent up physical tension going on, and someone’s got to be on the receiving end of it. Let’s face it, you’ve only got two hands, and even that gets boring. So what happens? Sweetykins goes down to the very same establishment we mentioned earlier that serves liquor and loose morals, and comes home 9 months later to tell you something you don’t want to hear. I’m not saying everyone in a long distance relationship that doesn’t see their significant other very often ends up cheating or getting cheated on, but the odds are against you, friend. That said, cheating can occur when both parties are in the same town, in the same house even. If the relationship itself isn’t very solid, if emotional needs aren’t being met, then that can lead to loneliness. And if your honey isn’t getting what they need at home, they can stray. So let’s take a note from that and go home and do something nice for our significant others. Like the adage goes, an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.
That’s it for this week! Send me your rants, raves, comments, and questions!

Call of The Wild

2009-09-21T11:20:00.000-07:00

OK Ya’ll,
So I was at a party this weekend (I know, I’m a party animal!) chatting with a group of friends and one of the hostesses when the subject of communication came up. The hostess, a lady about my mom’s age, mentioned how she and her husband reconnected and finally married years and years after they had first dated. They had been high school sweethearts, gone their separate ways in college, and then got back together at a high school reunion. The hostess lamented the fact that it took them so long to find one another again, but she also indicated that a lack of communication was partly to blame. She talked about the “old days” when you had to put quarters in a communal pay phone in the dorm hall and had to write letters and postcards to keep in touch. I never had to deal with such arcane communication methods, but I did have a little bit of difficulty even in my college days, what with no cell phone and a dorm phone that didn’t have any calling features. So if a boy I really, really liked decided to call me and my roommate was on the phone, it was sorry Charlie. Line busy, call missed, dating life over. I had an answering machine, but a fat lot of good it did when your housing committee-assigned roommate from overseas answered the phone and took a message that was unintelligible at best because she didn’t speak “southern.” But I digress…
What this conversation sparked in my mind was a little question I have asked myself a few times about communication methods and what they mean. These days we’ve got voicemail, texting, caller ID, email, social networking sites…a veritable cornucopia of ways to stalk, be stalked, and ignore people. There’s a scene in the movie “He’s Just Not That Into You” where Drew Barrymore’s character uses every method available to flirt with guys and complains that she’s been dumped through every medium out there, thus making the heartbreak even more painful. Her (ridiculously gay) friends in the office offer her advice, telling her that someone who only talks to her through social networking sites is definitely chasing other tail, etc etc. So that, coupled with the conversation this weekend posits to me the question, what does it mean when someone uses one communication method over another? If someone texts you but doesn’t call you, is it because he/she is not much of a talker but still wants to holla, or is it because they don’t find you chat worthy? If they communicate primarily through a social networking site like Facebook or Twitter, are they avoiding more personal, one on one contact or are they publicly declaring their affinity for your every thought? It’s a conundrum that I had to roll around in my head for a bit before I could really make a decision. I thought about what my communication methods mean, and why I choose one over another. For me, the best method is talking on the phone, but sometimes there’s a progression. It could start via facebook comments, to email, to phone. Or it could go from meeting at a party, to exchanging numbers, texting, then calling. But to me, the very end result, the one that says they officially like you and find you worth the time, is the phone call. Here’s what I’ve come up with to explain the other methods:
1. Texting but not calling: I’ve run into this quite a lot over the past couple of years with a few friends and acquaintances. Some people are more textually active than others, and though I resisted at first, I had to add texting to my phone plan eventually so I could keep in touch with certain friends who it seems would only text me, even if I had called them and left a message saying “call me back.” Other friends have become more textual, as have I, and for the most part I find it a handy method for when you don’t have much to say except “I’m on my way” or “good luck today!” or something relatively simple. My old pal Skip (he of mystery girl body language musings) texted me just last night with the question “do you think anyone has had sex in outer space?” These types of texts are ones I can appreciate, and don’t necessarily require a full conversation. My answer, by the way, was “Captain Kirk.” But what about when you meet somebody you like and want to go out with at some point? I think the answer is this: if they, or you, are using text as a primary communication source, it’s a method of protection—they’re feeling you out and deciding if they want to make the step up to calling. It’s a little less awkward to send a text and not get a response than to call someone and have to leave a message when they don’t answer. You never know what to say when leaving a message, and you don’t sound as stupid in writing. There’s a certain amount of nerves that come with a conversation, but texts help bypass that by letting you think about what you’ll say before you text. And honestly, it’s nerve racking to be the first one to call. You don’t want to let go of the security blanket, and you don’t want to cross the line if they’re still unsure.
2. Social networking sites only: This is the coupe de grace of stalking these days. If you can get a friend request accepted by someone on Facebook, you have access to as much personal info, photographic representation, and social circle commentary as you can handle. When someone “friends” you, and proceeds to comment, it’s sort of like saying, “hey, I like what I see and I wanted to say so.” Think about it—how many people do you friend and then never comment or even look at their page? You only comment on those you like, you know, or you want to get to know. Where it gets tricky is when the other party uses the social networking site as the only means of convo. If they email you on Facebook, then you can only email them back on Facebook if you don’t know their real email address, or see it on their page but don’t want to seem like a freak who’s stalking someone on Facebook, right? So it leads to a sort of false sense of insecurity. You both pretend you don’t see their cell number or other communication method staring at you from their Info tab and let it be because you don’t want to be “that guy/girl” who mistakenly thought someone liked you enough to move on from Facebooking to texting/emailing. And you most certainly don’t want to get burned by number three here:
3. Email/text/Facebook with a denied request to move to the call level: This one is the one I can’t stand the most, probably because it has happened to me before and it hurt my feelings. I was on a dating site and met an eligible bachelor that I thought may be a decent candidate for a free dinner. We emailed through the dating site a couple of times and then made the leap to personal email. I thought the progression was going well, and I felt comfortable enough to offer the digits after a few more days of emailing. The expectation was set that a phone call was imminent that weekend. What happened? An email on Monday morning explaining why he had not called over the weekend. Illness or something like that. So I gave it another shot, opening the call window in a subsequent email. And still nothing but emails. And then nothing at all. The way I figure it, he was chasing other tail, and I had taken the step out there for a premature call request. Ouch. So while I am not a fan of texting/emailing/etc. when I think calling ought to happen, I keep texting/emailing/etc. to keep myself from making a fool of myself.
So there it is folks. Let me know your thoughts, rants, raves, and comments!

Let Me Hear Your Body Talk

2009-09-08T07:20:00.001-07:00

OK Ya’ll,
So I had a conversation recently with a friend of mine, we’ll call him “Skip” for now, who is staking out a lady. This lady is a patron of an establishment that Skip frequents (and by “frequents” I mean I think he secretly lives there) and he’s had his eye on this gal for several months (and by “eye on” I mean he tracks her every move like a hound dog in heat). I don’t blame him, she’s a cute girl, and God knows he needs to get himself a woman. Anyhooser, one night last week this covert operation of his came to a head and he actually had a brief, albeit enlightening, conversation with Mystery Girl. I was not present for said interaction, but he did text me to let me know that the jump had been made; I did what any other friend would do and insisted he call me after he left the bar to discuss in detail. I mean, I do write a blog about relationship issues and what have you, so who better to go over the minutiae of even the smallest of conversations with your intended amour? We broke it down like MC Hammer, analyzing the mannerisms, conversation, company kept, and body language. The funny thing about this whole scientific process, beside the fact that Skip and I are both firmly in the 30 and over category but we talked like two 16 year old girls after the school dance, was that he actually noticed things that I did not think men (well, straight men) were too aware of—specifically, the body language angle. Either he’s been stealing his friend’s Cosmo and reading “How To Subconsciously Trap A Dude” articles, or he’s smarter than I give him credit for. I’m voting for the Cosmo, but it still made me curious. As a woman, I read said Cosmo articles and other media regarding the entrapment of hapless gentlemen, and frankly I find it a little elementary; however, there are people who make their living off of reading body language, so I can’t completely discredit their research. These articles always say things like “don’t cross your arms and legs together—it makes you seem closed off” or “brush your neck with your hand and run your fingers down your arms to subtly show him your secret erogenous zones” or something like that. Personally, I don’t think that kind of body language is all that subtle, and I think it ruins the allure of an interaction if you’re constantly repositioning yourself like a GPS in hopes of drawing attention to the inside of your elbows or whatever. To me, body language is something that should be natural and reactive, and I don’t think it’s hard to tell if someone likes you or doesn’t like you without having to maneuver yourself too much.
But I digress, so back to the lecture at hand. Skip said that MG sat down next to him to have a chat and a smoke (insert anti-smoking propaganda here), and the conversation was good, but her body language was awkward. He said that she crossed her leg away from him, which is an indicator of uncertainty, but her upper body was fairly relaxed, which is a sign of comfort. So you can see his confusion—do you go off the convo alone, or is the body language that he’s unnaturally attuned to an indicator of her feigned interest to procure a cigarette? It gave me pause to go through and consider my own body language for a moment, specifically the leg crossing and it’s strength of schedule. In combination with the crossed arms or hands tucked under the legs, it could indicate a couple of things—disinterest, sure, but also perhaps that you should have brought a sweater because it’s a might bit nippy where you are. I cross my arms not so much to close myself off from someone, but because I’d rather them talk to my face and not my glaringly obvious nipples due to the chill in the room. Without the crossed arms, I’m banking that she just has a preference for one leg over the other when it comes to crossing them. The way you clasp your hands is hereditary—right thumb over left, or left over right—so perhaps you have an affinity for one leg crossed over the other for comfort’s sake. I tend to go left over right most of the time, because I’m a lefty all the way and my right side is only here for cosmetic purposes and balance. I asked another girlfriend of mine, and she said she crosses a particular way to make her legs look more comely and appealing. I even paid particular attention to my leg crossing when meeting a new gentleman for the first time, and I noticed that though my legs were crossed away from him, I liked him quite well. So, Skip, in my estimation, man cannot gauge interest from crossed legs alone. If it were me, I’d enjoy the conversation and hope that she runs her fingers down her arm later.

Don't Dream It's Over

2009-08-24T13:37:00.000-07:00

OK Ya’ll,
So I did a quiz on Facebook today that was pretty interesting. It wasn’t so much of a quiz as an extrapolation of my profile data compiled into a statistical representation of how lame my life is, but it was still interesting. This EPD said I had a 90% probability of getting married, which sounds pretty promising at first. But then I got to thinking about it, and a couple of things occurred to me.
1. There’s no time line on this probability, so I figured I’m basically starting at 90 and going downhill rapidly from there. I mean, probability generally decreases over time for these types of events, so if I’m at 90 now, then I can’t help but drop a few percentage points as time marches on. But then I had another thought—maybe my probability wouldn’t drop, because the divorce rate is such that if I wait long enough, I’ve got a shot at a few fellas that may be off the market now. So this could work for me or against me depending on the dissolution of the matrimonial bonds in my area. Let’s hope by the time the divorce rate has evened out my chances, Vince Vaughn is still single.
2. (or maybe one and a half) Since there is no timeline, I could be 70 before this marriage occurs. Not promising. My great aunt Mildred was well into her 50s before she got married FOR THE FIRST TIME. I don’t even want to know if she stuck to her guns and decided to save herself for consummation *shudder* but she did end up marrying her freshly widowed pastor, so who knows. Then again, if I marry someone when I’m 70, they’ll obviously have a fantastic personality because very few people look all that hot at 70 (except Sean Connery), and pretty much nobody is attractive from the neck down at 70. And I’ll probably have had enough stories about bumpin’ uglies by then to get me through the next 15 years or so ‘til I shuffle off this mortal coil, so the personality angle will be that much more of a joy to me in my advanced state. But watch out—if he’s anything like me, we’ll have a ball swindling all of our friends at bingo and shuffleboard after the ice cream social at 4:30.
3. There’s still a 10% probability that I won’t get married. I could end up being the fun, good-looking friend with a killer sense of humor who people secretly think is a lesbian because I’m still single at 95. At first glance it seems depressing, but sometimes I think it may not be so bad. A lot of people just get married to have kids, and since I don’t want any, I’ve got nothing but easy sailin’ ahead. I wouldn’t have to change anybody’s diapers, I wouldn’t have to worry about my husband passing away before me, I could collect as many cats as I want with no one thinking it odd, I wouldn’t have to cut any ingrates out of my will…the possibilities are endless. And hey, if things get too crazy, Congress will send me off to pasture with the warmest of shoves. So I’ll take your 10% and make the best of it. I just need to make sure I don’t marry plenty of wealthy benefactors who insist upon financing the living out of my remaining years in comfort.

I know that you know that I know!

2009-08-14T07:32:00.000-07:00

OK Ya’ll,
So in the past few weeks I’ve been thinking about a little thing called trust. Not for any reason in particular, but just from general observation and a few conversations I’ve had, it seems that there are plenty of people out there with trust issues. Some are justified, some have too much where they shouldn’t, and some have too little where they should have more. It seems to me that one’s level of trust is based upon two things: self-esteem and past experience. And by level of trust, I mean what level you generally have going into the initial dating phase. Are you someone who is generally untrusting until someone earns it, or are you someone who trusts someone until they give you a reason not to, etc. etc. Allow me to elaborate on the two things I find to be behind most folks lack of trust.
Self-esteem: This usually has to do with a big, fat, trust issue called jealousy. In general I’ve found that the jealous party somehow doesn’t feel worthy of the person they’re dating, so they get suspicious of any and all friends or acquaintances of the opposite sex, and fighting ensues. A bit of teasing is fun and keeps your date on his/her toes, makes them feel like a hot commodity, and can be a bit of an aphrodisiac. Digging through their wallet the second they leave the room, poring over their text and call log on their phone, and hacking into their email/social networking sites is just plain nuts. Now I’m not saying all suspicion is wrong, but there’s a line between a healthy respect for the boundaries of a relationship and when they get crossed, and batshit crazy because you don’t feel like your significant other pays enough attention to you. Jealousy does nothing but make the other person run the other way and make you feel worse about yourself. My motto has always been, “if you want her, then that bitch can have you. But you know you’ll never find better.” I don’t get jealous because I feel like I’m good enough, smart enough, and dammit, people like me. I’ve got a lot to offer, and whoever it is I date is generally cool enough to appreciate it and know what he’s got. And I’m secure enough in myself to know that I’m smart enough to recognize the difference between a friend and a threat. Here’s a little tip—instead of alienating every person of the opposite sex that your beloved knows, why don’t you make friends with them and get to know them? Then you’ve got not only the “cool boy/girlfriend” moniker on lockdown, but you’ve also got a handle on who’s bluff you’re going to have to call. You might even make a friend or two in the process.
One of the other classic signs of bad self-esteem that is related to jealousy is smothering. In my humble opinion, The Smotherer is nothing more than a Green-Eyed Monster in disguise. Sure, it’s nice to be wanted, but not 24 hours a day. The Smotherer basically wraps up their whole identity in you as a couple and has very few outside interests. Everyone needs some time apart to do their own thing—scratch, burp, fart, and pick at stuff without someone sitting right next to you to get the color commentary. The Smotherer generally feels that if they’re not with you, then you’re either off doing something you shouldn’t, or you don’t care about spending time with them so they must not be worth it. This is just bad self-esteem wrapped up in a guilt trip, and you don’t need it. My advice—move. Or get them a hobby.
Past Experience: This goes hand in hand with self-esteem many times. So you’ve been burned before—you’ve been cheated on, or you’ve been lied to, or your date didn’t turn out to be everything you had hoped and more. Sure, there’s a time where it’s ok to feel like all men/women are complete shitbirds and you don’t need them, but then you have to move on. This is where most people get into a classic vicious cycle, because they never move on and then end up in another relationship fueled by mistrust, bad self-esteem, smothering, and jealousy, and that usually ends in a restraining order. The moving on is the most important step, people! The next person you date is not Stanley Stand-Me Up or Harriet The Harlot. They are an individual worthy of your time and trust and they deserve a shot. Don’t punish them for what others did to you in the past. I’ve had plenty of bum deals in my life. But I don’t hold it against the next guy, because it’s not fair to me and it’s certainly not fair to him. So if I’m still harboring some ill will or some feelings of inferiority against the male species, I try not to let myself get into a dating situation right away. Everyone’s timeline is different, so it may take you longer than it takes your friends. But DO NOT date until you’re over it! Otherwise you and your date will suffer and you’ll end up getting dumped again, which will breed more bitterness, which leads to the next person getting the jealous treatment—see where I’m going with this?
There’s one other thing I’d like to add here, and that’s that some people can actually be too trusting. I call this one Naivete. Basically you’re too dumb to realize what’s going on or in serious denial because you don’t want to believe your sweet, loving Pookieface could ever step out on you or treat you wrong. Generally, the Naivete leads to getting burned, which then can cause The Jealous Kook or The Smotherer. I am the kind of gal who, when she’s pretty far into a relationship and something fishy comes about, tries to give her man the benefit of the doubt. But when things start getting too obvious for words, or when everyone else in your social circle has an eyebrow raised but you, it’s time to re-evaluate. If they aren’t doing what they say they will when they’ve normally been reliable, when they have an excuse for not seeing you even though it’s been weeks, maybe even months, get with the program, sweetie. It’s just like this: If they want to see you, they’ll make it happen. Otherwise, they’re probably banging some skank down at the local watering hole. It’s the old adage that everyone’s heard but no one seems to take to heart: “Don’t make someone your priority when you are only their option.” So let’s all do ourselves a favor and get our minds right. It’ll save your heart some ache.

It Depends On What Your Definition of "IS" is...

2009-07-28T13:04:00.000-07:00

OK Ya’ll,
So a couple of girlfriends and I recently went to see a movie called “The Ugly Truth.” It looked like a cute Friday-night-with-your-ladies type of film that we could all sit back and enjoy as mindless fun for a couple of hours. It was true to the genre of lonely girl meets douchebag with a secret heart of gold. Of course hijinx ensue as we see the douchebag start to fall for lonely girl, and watch lonely girl debate whether to be with the guy she thinks is “safe” or get involved with the guy who acts like a royal dickcheese but she’s certain he just needs a girl who understands. So obviously she goes with the screwed-over douche, only to be rebuffed in a big miscommunication, and her anger at the situation causes a revenge plot that proceeds to win him over after he has an epiphany about his caddish behavior and everyone lives happily ever after. Frankly friends, the only thing “truthful” about this movie was that you knew the whole thing was going to end in a big, fat, UGLY breakup somewhere down the road after the movie is over; after he’s been out drinking with the boys, ogling women and smoking cigars one too many times, while she’s been sitting at home with the damn cat, drinking wine and watching too much Oprah. I mean, come ON! Why does Hollywood insist on continuing to force-feed us bullshit stories like this? Because secretly we want to believe that people are good at their core, that their very nature is not a fucktard in hiding, but a lovely human being waiting for their best intentions to bloom with the right nuturing. That this person you see before you is just putting up a front to weed out the sick and the old, and deep down inside they’re just a scared puppy in need of love and affection. And these movies we watch reinforce these notions. They don’t ever give you the “Ugly Truth,” they give you the “Processed Truth.” The truth is, people lie, they cheat, and they hurt other people. And I don’t think that’s because they have been hurt before, or they have been “misunderstood” or whatever, it’s because people are not good at their core. They are mean, spiteful, and selfish. We act good, we act kind, and we put on a lot of artifice about our innocence, but way down deep we’ve got nothing but our own proud self-centered nature that drives us to do the things we do sometimes. Like my old pal Michael Jackson used to sing: “If they say why, why? Tell ‘em that it’s human nature.” It goes all the way back to Adam and Eve. Eve was sitting around nekkid in the garden minding her own business when she got approached by The Serpent. He offered her something that she thought God wouldn’t give her: an upper-hand. So what did she do? She took it. She took it and ran with it. And got Adam implicated in the deal too. Eve didn’t eat the fruit out of the goodness of her heart, or because she didn’t want to hurt The Serpent’s feelings, or because she wanted to keep him from getting hurt the way she got hurt. She didn’t know about any of that. She did it because she was pulled over to the dark side by her own free will. And therein lies the rub, friends. Who’s to say who the first person was to screw somebody else over? Think about it—you’d have to do some pretty extensive research to trace all the way back to where all this trickeration started. Personally, I have no idea what has made some guys I’ve dated act the way they have except for pure old unadulterated meanness. I know I’ve done some morally reprehensible things in my day for no other reason than selfishness. I wanted what I wanted and I didn’t care who got hurt in the process; I didn’t even give it another thought because I was thinking about me and me only. Selfless, kind, sweet people are not born, they’re made. I am a good person because I have chosen to be a good person, and take my life down a path that is generally upstanding and of moral consequence. I can play dumb, pretend I didn’t know that I had hurt someone’s feelings or stepped over the line when I know good and well that I did it knowingly and in spite of the consequences. Because when the “ugly truth” appears, I’m still bad to the bone.

Highway To The Danger Zone

2009-07-20T12:02:00.000-07:00

OK Ya’ll,
So I recently read an article on the msn celebrity gossip site about Jennifer Aniston getting put in the “friend zone” by a co-star she was allegedly dating. That got me thinking about a couple of things—A. how in the world a hottie like Jen Aniston gets put in the “friend zone” is waaaay beyond me, and B. how guys/girls who have plenty to offer get put in the “friend zone.” I came up with a few reasons why one may get relegated to the dreaded “we’re just friends” section of the dating buffet, so I thought I would share.
1.You’re not that cute. I know it sounds harsh, but come on. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again—you can only date someone for their personality for so long before things take a big, fat nosedive into “let’s still be friends” territory if there’s no attraction. There has to be some sort of spark to create a connection. Not everybody’s spark plugs are gonna fire up on the first go round. Sometimes it takes a while for the personality to make the looks more of a minor than a major. But sometimes no matter how hard you try, you cannot get past the fact that you’re dating the physical equivalent of Kryptonite. And that’s when you’re just better off “being friends.” And that’s unfortunate, because you and I both know that 9 times out of 10, you don’t end up being friends. You end up being “this guy/girl I used to date.”
2.You’re already friends and dating is going to ruin it. It’s been said that men and women can’t be friends because one person always wants to sleep with the other. There’s a whole monologue delivered by Billy Crystal in “When Harry Met Sally” about that very thing that I highly recommend not only for comedic value, but also for the veracity of the claim. Big E has a few guy friends on the roster, dudes that she became friends with not through their girlfriend or through a dating situation, but guys who I met through my circle of friends or through work, school, etc. And sure, I think they’re attractive, and I may have, at first meeting, attempted to date one or two of them. I may have even done a little more than go on a date with them (*ahem*). I’ve lived to regret it a few times, because it was generally either a move made out of loneliness or curiosity. And when it didn’t work out, I was left more lonely because I had lost not only a free meal, but a friend as well. There are those times you can put someone in the “friends with benefits” category and live with it, as long as you can compartmentalize and not romanticize something that is purely platonic emotionally and down and dirty physically. Those times are rare, and usually end up hurting one party or the other if there are feelings that aren’t being addressed. To that end, I say go for it but know what you’re getting into. It can be crazy fun. As it stands now, the guys that are still in my group are friends and only friends because I like them. And I know that if we ever really and truly dated, we would end up not liking each other at all, either because he was a douche or because I drove him nuts. It’s easier for me to keep them in the “friend zone” and have the benefit of their company without the awkward past relationship in the way. It’s more fun to give somebody a hard time when you know they aren’t going to get all uppity about it.
3.They just aren’t your type. Let’s face it—you may really like someone, you may think they are funny, cute, smart, whatever—but if you don’t see eye to eye on your deal breakers as friends, you will never work out as lov-ahs. I’ve mentioned the “Big E Deal Breakers” in past posts, and though those things are personal ideologies I adhere to, I don’t expect everyone to be like me. But I also don’t date them. I know plenty of great guys who are funny, cute, smart, whatever that I will never date because I know it’s going to end in a giant, fiery disaster like a Die Hard movie. For me, it all depends on which way their moral compass points, and for some of them, it’s South when it oughta be North, know what I’m saying? And that’s ok, because I like them in spite of their tendencies, and they like me in spite of mine. We might even have a healthy debate about these tendencies from time to time. But the line in the sand remains, and it’s there for a reason. And no matter how hard I might want it to move, it just doesn’t. So I keep the friend label firmly affixed and continue my quest for the Guy Who Points North.
4.You aren’t their type. This might sound like repetition, but it’s not. I’ve had the whole problem of dating someone who was just dating me because he didn’t know any better. I know myself pretty well, and I like to think I get to know someone else pretty well before I bequeath “good friend” status upon them. And since I know what I’m like, I don’t want to have another person get themselves into something they shouldn’t. I’ve not always been so good at this, however. A time or two I’ve gone out with someone I knew I was not right for. And what happened? We became friends, started hanging out, started dating, and suddenly I found myself waking up next to someone that I knew was trying his best to make something out of nothing. It wasn’t that he wasn’t a great guy, or that he didn’t have lots of great qualities, but I knew what he needed in a girl wasn’t me. And I let it happen, thinking maybe I was wrong. Hoping maybe he was aware of it and had come to terms with it. But in the end, we both decided it just wasn’t working and it really wasn’t anybody’s fault. We should have just stayed friends. I’m a great friend for a lot of people, but a good girlfriend for very few.
That's it for this week! Give me your thoughts, rants, raves, and comments!

I drink to make you more interesting

2009-07-13T15:01:00.000-07:00

OK Ya’ll,
So while I was looking around on the Interwebs the other day, I noticed this article on MSN that was taken from Oprah’s website. In this article, this rabbi named Menschy or Meuly or Goldfein or whatever rabbi name you want to insert here________ was talking about where to meet “nice guys.” Rabbi Rosengoldbergstein recommended church, bookstores, concert halls, poetry readings, weddings, etc. Personally I think meeting guys in those types of venues is about as likely as meeting Liza Minelli at an AA support group, or Lindsay Lohan at a defensive driving class, but what do I know. I write a blog complaining about not meeting guys. However, reading the article did prompt me to ask myself about this alleged “nice guy” scenario. Now, we all know that “nice” guys finish last. But what is it that constitutes being a “nice” guy? What is the definition of “nice” as far as relationships go, and how does a guy get into the “nice” category without completely sacrificing his balls? So I asked a few friends their thoughts. Here’s what they said:
Consideration. Always thinking about other people's (especially your) feelings.
Empathy. Anyone can "walk the walk" for lack of better terms, hold open doors, pull out chairs, but I think it takes empathy towards other humans to be a true "nice guy"
one that treats you great - one that holds doors for old ladies at the store - one that would take his shirt off his back if someone needed it more, etc......
By "nice guy" do you mean that hard to define "vanilla" quality that causes him to finish last?
Lacking in all qualities of the Alpha Male.
Me…
I know, I gotta get some better friends or at least start hanging out at bookstores where I know I have a better shot at talking to people who are literate. Kidding! Some of those are great answers. And I know they took thought. However, I thought I would take a stab at defining the word “nice” in the traditional sense, and what I think nice should be. Because I feel like a lot of “nice” guys finish last because they are what people call “too nice” which is really just a euphemism for “doormat.”
Merriam Webster says this:
Nice: (adj.) pleasing, agreeable. Virtuous, respectable. Well-bred.
The Big E says this:
Nice: (adj.) Bland. Boring. Sheep-esque. Pristine sense of humor, if one is present at all. Not argumentative. Watches his language, and uses less crass synonyms, such as “shoot,” “shucks,” and “dang.” Goes to church with his mama every Sunday and has never said a cross word to any member of his family. Virgin. Does not understand dirty jokes, and furrows his brow when you say EFFIN’ HELL! Combs his hair the same way since kindergarten. Irons his clothes, even his jeans and underwear. Usually not very attractive, and could possibly still wear headgear to bed at night. May work in some sort of technology occupation.Alt.: In touch with his feelings and great to talk to but not good looking. Makes you feel better about yourself. You would totally date him if he didn’t look like Steve Buscemi.
So what should nice be, you ask? Here’s what I think:
Nice: (adj.) kind to animals and people alike, but knows where to draw the line with people and only exhibits compassion for those that help themselves. Dirty enough to laugh at 80’s Eddie Murphy or 90’s Dice but not dirty enough to make you search his internet history for porn sites. Pays for dates, purchases gifts, but doesn’t do it to try and prove his worthiness. Confident in his ability to earn a living, play a sport, and stand up for you and to you. Handsome but not arrogant. Shares your beliefs and values and lives as an upstanding citizen but would also steal a lip gloss for you at Wal-mart. Lets you vent about work, your friends, friend’s boyfriends, and mother without cutting you off, but also lets you know when you’ve got to just say EFFIN HELL! and go pour yourself a martini. Willing to compromise on the activities for the weekend, but also has an agenda of his own.
I am still looking for that guy. To me, that’s one guy who would most certainly not finish last. Well, unless I finish first.

Muskrat Love

2009-07-05T19:37:00.000-07:00

OK Ya'll,
So I haven't posted in a while because the Big E has been quite busy getting her party on in celebration of her birthday. It was super festive, with an Official Big E Fanclub Sponsored Luau to commemorate my special day(photo provided) and many other soirees and various get togethers to mark the arrival of several of my other friend's entries into the "30-something" race. And of course I had to take time out to mourn the passing of one of my all time favorite celebrities--the incorrigbly loud Billy Mays. So I've been a lady with an agenda. Unfortunately, that agenda has not included L-O-V-E. Not that I purposely excluded it, but when you're dressed like a hula girl with some Lady Gaga face paint on your pulchritudinous puss, you can't be worrying about how many shots of tequila your boyfriend just took and if he's now harrassing the neighborhood pets, ya feel me? So it seems I have come through the first third of my life relatively unscathed in the dating department. I've not been married (or divorced, remarried, and put forth progeny with one or all of my ex-amours)and I've come out on the other end of some serious relationships for the better, or so I think. Yes, there are some scars, some of which still smart a little when you touch them, but for the most part they've all been buried under a healthy dose of cynical, self-effacing humor and some talk therapy. But herein lies the rub--why haven't I been married? Hell, most people I know have been there, done that, and have the alimony payments to prove it. I, on the other hand, have escaped such a fate, and I think it comes down to one big, fat, bo-hunkin' reason: I am really effin' picky. As in, I don't just subscribe to the 80/20 rule, I have created a whole other stratosphere in which most men could never hope to reside. Now, that's not to say that I haven't gone out with a variety of guys, and it's not to say that I found serious faults with all of them; it's just that some guys I dated at a 60 hoping the other 40 would be half good and half liveable, and some guys I didn't even check the scales on because I wasn't dating them for the conversation. And I have gotten involved with guys who were not good for me, or I tried to make work when the cards just weren't in my favor. And I see people all around me who are in relationships for all the wrong reasons, and I know I don't want to be that person. In my quest to understand my pickiness, I have determined that most people fall into two categories, best summed up in a domestic animal analogy: Dogs and Cats. Here's a list of the qualities I think describe each category.
Dogs: loyal, loving, want to be loved and need attention, crave togetherness, social, fun-loving, outgoing, sweet-natured, fierce protectors of their loved ones, thoughtful.
Cats: Keep you at arms length, want affection but on their own terms, guarded with their feelings, emotions are displayed in private and are usually not displayed often, need alone time, don't mind staying in, loving but aloof.
Basically all the things you think of when you think of these animals can also apply to people. The thing is, in most of my relationships, there has to be an oppositional attraction to best complement the other person's strengths. In general terms, I consider myself Primarily Dog. I know, I know, you're probably thinking to yourself, "you're only a dog in that you act like a bitch most of the time," but really, when I am in a relationship that I am invested in, I am much more canine in my actions. Ergo, I generally need someone more feline (with a hint of Dog for romance and affection) to balance me out. If you get two Dogs together, the schmoopiness can be disgustingly intolerable at best. If you get two Cats together, nobody knows if anyone gives a shit in the first place. So it takes a nice dichotomy to create the best synergy in my opinion. To me, my parents are the prime example of how this works. My dad is very much a Dog--he's very "mushy" and romantic, very sweet and hopelessly devoted to my mother and me. His biggest goal in life is to be the best husband and father he can be and to provide the kind of life for my mother that she wants. And he does a great job at it most of the time. If something were to happen to my mom, I think my dad would be pretty well inconsolable. My mom, on the other hand, is an Uber-Cat. She loves my dad, no doubt, but she is often accused of being "heartless," or "cold." My mother does not feel guilt. She is not easily swayed by romantic gestures. Although she does show my dad affection, sometimes to the point of grodiness, she would probably go to my dad's funeral and then come home and start working on her next craft project. My mom is a great mom, she has always been a very loving mother, but I see this side to her as a woman now and not just a mom, and it sometimes makes me feel sorry for my father. But then I think to myself, there's that balance there that needs to be there, or this whole thing wouldn't have worked as well as it has for the past 34 years. Dad needs the salt to balance his sweet. And he gets just enough sweet to let him know his Dog-ness is appreciated.
So I think that's where my dilemma lies--I haven't found the right Cat to balance out my Dog. I have glimpses of Cat and can Lean Feline, so perhaps it's more that I haven't found someone to be Uber-Dog and bring out the balancing Mini-Cat I know I can be. I know he's out there. Maybe he's just barking up the wrong tree.

2009-06-08T11:05:00.000-07:00

Yet another hilarious entry from graphjam.com. I love it!

I Pity Tha Fool

2009-06-07T16:01:00.001-07:00

OK Ya'll,
So this week I thought I'd share with you my story of my Worst First Date Ever. I even wrote a song about it (to the tune of "The Beverly Hillbillies"):
Let me tell ya a lil' story
Bout a girl named E
Had her worst first date
With a guy named Jeremy
Halfway through he started acting like a clod
And poor ol' E had to pray this phrase to God
"Never again, what've I done"
And so on and so forth...feel free to send me your additional verses.
The story goes like this: Big E and her pal Raquel and Raquel's sister Auds were out at the local Honky Tonk on a Thursday night, having as much fun as we could with our boots on, and as luck would have it, one of Big E's favorite activities was afoot--karaoke! Now for those of you who don't know, I am somewhat of a phenomenon when it comes to singing a wide variety of karaoke favorites, and I've even had requests for my renditions of "Wanted Dead or Alive" and "Let 'Er Rip." So of course on this particular evening in question, Big E was lettin it rip on the stage, taking no prisoners and showing everyone who's boss (NOT Tony Danza!) with her stellar performance of "If I Could Turn Back Time." There were a few chaps about, none of whom were of any consequence to our lovely group because they were either old, unhygienic, or poorly educated in etiquette regarding how to compliment a lady. However, after a brief intermission in the top notch crooning session, a few lads moseyed on over to the area and one signed up for a song. In this particular establishment, it's not uncommon for the fellers to dazzle us with their rap skills with either a "Baby Got Back" or "Cowboy" throwdown, but this guy was different--he signed up to sing Vertical Horizon of all things. And he wasn't half bad. My girlfriends immediately took notice and decided I should chat up this bloke, and sure enough the chatting commenced soon enough. I found out his name was Jeremy, and he seemed a nice enough guy. I gave him my number and soon found out why he was still single.
Jeremy came to pick up Big E at her condo, which nowadays I highly discourage on a first date because you have no idea if this dude is a serial killer who might chop you up and stuff you in a mattress like drug money. But as this was quite a few years ago and Big E had not developed her Spidey-sense completely, it happened. Anyhoosle, Jeremy takes Big E out for dinner and then out to a local libationery hall. Dinner was fine, we had a nice chat and he still seemed to be on the up and up. I seem to remember he was adopted, which could explain a lot, but the libations apparently were the catalyst for his clod-like behavior. Again, I don't encourage the imbibification of too many beverages on the first date, if for nothing else but to remember how ridiculously bad it was so you'll never do that again. But, indulge I did. My date, however, indulged a bit more than I did, and halfway through the date proceeds to try and start kissing my face while he sways unsteadily like a hammock in a stiff breeze. I have a firm rule about "handsiness" and he broke it all to hell in one fell swoop. I did my best to position myself out of his reach, and suggested perhaps we go elsewhere. He wanted to take me over to his friend's apartment to what he called a "party." I thought, "great, a chance to meet new people and put some distance between us while socializing."
This alleged "party" turned out to be his friend, friend's brother, and some other random guy. I seriously thought I might have just walked into a potential gang rape. As uncomfortable as it was, Big E is nothing if not sociable, and so tried to engage the friend's brother in conversation. Unfortunately, my topic of choice was the crucifix hanging above the entryway. I asked if they were Catholic, just because one generally does not hang a crucifix above one's doorway unless one is either Catholic or Madonna, and FB replied in the affirmative and asked me what I was. Now, Big E is a confirmed Christian, but I do not like labels of religions like Baptist, Methodist, etc. because I feel "religion" is a bunch of man's rules for God, when it ought to be the other way around. So I tell FB that I'm a non-denominational Christian. I went to a non-denominational church before my family moved to where we are now, and although I go to a Baptist church, I do not think of myself as such.
The proverbial shit proceeded to hit the proverbial fan right about then, because FB then says to me, "sooooo you're confused is what your telling me." To say that I was immediately infuriated is the understatement of the century. There's a couple things you don't mess with when it comes to Big E, and Christianity is one of them. Family and my makeup are the others, but that's another story. I did the Ghetto Fabulous neck whip with one eyebrow raised and said, "Excuse me? I most certainly did NOT say I was confused, nor did I IMPLY that I was confused. I think YOURE the one who's confused here, Bubba." And so ensued the requisite argument over the meaning of Christianity while holding a beer in one hand and making a fist with the other. I spouted off Bible verses I hadn't remembered since 3rd grade Sunday School (thanks, Mrs. Dot and Mrs. Boots!) and unleashed fiery vengeance upon FB's head. He finally tired of my intellectual and moral diatribe and let it rest. Wise of him, I'll say. Jeremy, however, was not so wise, because not once did he offer to defend or defuse. I understand that the Big E can be a force to be reckoned with when provoked, but as a first date etiquette, the proper thing to do would be to ask FB to can it before he ruined it all for future outings. Too bad Jeremy didn't get that memo.
I asked Jeremy to squire me home shortly after, but not before I spilled an entire mixed drink all over the couch. Suck it, Friend's Brother!
The trip home was made up of Jeremy apologizing for his doltish acquantaince and me ranting further about THE NERVE OF THAT GUY! and what have you. I was very quickly tiring of Jeremy's company, not only because of his handsiness at the bar, but because of his lack of chivalry with ol' Age of Enlightenment at the erstwhile "party." And just when I thought I was about to escape the torture...
Jeremy insists on walking me to the door. It's 5 feet away, but somehow seems to be The Green Mile. I forced myself to hug him and thanked him for the evening, and he got back in his car. And I heard a clicking noise coming from under the hood...then nothing. His battery was dead. Aaaaand it was the middle of winter, aaaand he had no cell phone, aaaand I have no jumper cables. I let him in to call a tow truck, and while he waited, he got the bright idea that it would be perfectly acceptable to foist himself upon me and try to kiss me. And before I knew it, I was literally pinned to the couch with this cretan probing my mouth with his horrible tongue. It was disgusting--cold, wormy, and utterly reprehensible on all counts. I rebuffed him and used every bit of strength I had to push him as far away as I could, and informed him that he would be most welcome to wait in his car for the tow truck as I was D-U-N done with him. I didn't give a shit if it was 12 degrees outside, and I didn't give a shit if he had to wait 6 hours for a truck to arrive, all I wanted was him out of my house and out of my life. And to go use some mouthwash. I promptly locked the door and went upstairs to bed and only bothered to make sure he was gone when I woke up the next morning. And after I breathed a sigh of relief to see an empty parking spot, I told myself: Never again will I allow some inappropriately amorous troglodyte with morally argumentative friends take me out on a date involving unhealthy amounts of alcohol. And, friends, I would advise you to learn from my lesson and do the same.
Well, that's all I've got for you this week. Send me your rants, raves, comments, and questions!

Tidbit For The End Of The Week

2009-06-05T10:22:00.000-07:00

OK Ya'll,
so one of my favorite websites is failblog.org, and their sister sites graphjam and engrish funny are knee slappers as well. I was checking out graphjam this morning and I saw a graph that I just had to share with you all. It goes back to one of my earlier posts about internet dating and I thought it apropos to post here. Check it out and enjoy!

Things To Do In Denver When You're Dead

2009-05-31T19:24:00.000-07:00

OK Ya'll,
So this week I thought I would post a few thoughts about activities one should embark upon before they take the ol' trip to Ball-And-Chain-Ville. I was cleaning the Casa de Big E (no, that's not a joke, I really was in the mood to clean it) the other day and I came across a book that an ex got me that was one of those "99 things a woman should do before she dies" jobs and it got me thinking. I don't know how many people I've come across, both male and female, who just haul off and get married without really getting the chance to live a little. Maybe it's just me, but I just think there's something to be said for taking a step out there. So here's my suggestions for pre-nuptial discovery.
1. Live on your own. And I mean, really truly on your own, no roommates, no shacking up, no whatever, but in a place where only your name is on the lease. I know so many people who have gone from Mom and Daddy's to co-habitation with their Cuddlebug and have no idea how to make it on their own. I honestly think this lack of independent homeostasis is the main reason people get all co-dependent with their significant others and subsequently keep the psychology industry in full swing. I mean, sure it's great to have the one you love nearby, but what happens when things don't work out? You end up going back to Mom and Daddy's at an age where it's wildly inappropriate to say you still live at home, or you end up sleeping in your friend's basement on their mildewed hand me down college couch that probably still has bodily fluids on it from college. So take it from your old pal The Big E--get out there and live on your own. I'd say do it for at least a year. Not only do you learn how to take care of yourself better, but you learn a valuable lesson--how to be a person that is wholly you, not part of "You and Your Boyfriend/Girlfriend/Whatever" or "The Smith's Kid Who Still Lives At Home." It's called independence, people, and it is sorely underrated in this day and age. Big E has been in her own little domicile for the past 8 or 9 years now, and I can't tell you how much I enjoy it. I have the freedom to come and go as I please, the freedom to leave my underwear laying in the bathroom floor, and the freedom of knowing that I can take care of myself without having to depend on anyone else financially or emotionally. Sometimes I even paint my face up like William Wallace in Braveheart and yell "FREEDOOOOOOOOM!" from the window of my condo. Then my next door neighbor's dogs start barking like wicked Banshees and I shut it down and go wash my face. But hey, it feels great to know there's nobody to tell me it's past my curfew or to go get them a beer. Because you can't take care of other people without first taking care of Y-O-U.
2. Figure out who in the hell you are. This is sort of an addendum to #1 because I find that usually figuring out who you are comes most easily when you are on your own, simply because you have time to think about it without your mom asking you if you did your laundry or your significant other pestering you to "flip it over to the game already!" or whatever. Seriously, this is vitally important to success in life and in relationships, because figuring out what you want from life and for yourself is the best way to make sure you get it. Nobody says to themselves, "hey, I think I'll be a miserable hunk of shit for the next 30 years and let someone else run my life," but that's exactly what happens when you don't know what you want in the first place. It's like the old saying goes, "if you don't stand for something, you'll fall for anything." And failure to figure that out is the reason why shows like Tool Academy make it on the air. So do yourself a favor and get to know your likes, dislikes, dealbreakers, wants, needs, and secret career fantasies. You'll thank me when your sitting behind the CEO's desk in the highrise that is your super awesome life with a super awesome (and probably hot) spouse on their way to pick you up for lunch.
3. Learn from your mistakes. There are so many people in this world who get sucked into the same bad relationships over and over again, and then finally end up marrying one of them because they think "this time it'll be different." In the words of Tom Cruise in Rainman: let me let you in on a little secret, Ray. K-Mart sucks. So does going from one loser who didn't have their shit together to another loser with a whole other set of problems but still no visibly gathered shit. If your friends and everyone else you know keep telling you, "this is just like when you dated so-and-so" or "you seem to fall for the same type of guy/girl all the time" and that guy/girl makes Courtney Love look like the voice of reason, then take a little cue from your gut instinct and abandon ship. Figure out what it is that keeps attracting you to this type of sucktitude and get on the path to change. You'll be a lot better off, and your friends won't have to put up with another lame night out on the town with you and whats-his-nuts fighting the whole time.
4. Don't limit yourself. Now, I'm not saying that people don't meet the love of their lives at age 5, but I am saying you're probably not that person. So there is no reason for you to get yourself tied down really early in life. When I was in high school, my parents used to tell me not to get too serious with one guy, and I thought they were complete and total fuddy duddies. These days, I thank my lucky stars that I subconsciously took their advice and didn't get hot and heavy at 16. Sure, I had a boyfriend or two who broke my heart, but I never in a million years thought I would marry them. I had too much ambition and too many things to do and see to get married. And lets face it, no matter how smart you think you are at 16, 20, hell, even 25, YOU ARE AN IDIOT. I still have so much more to learn and do and become in this life, but I think at 30 I've at least got a handle on the aforementioned 1-3. So what I'm saying is, go out there and date. I mean really date. As in, go out with a wide variety of types and personalities. I've gone out with tall, short, funny, boring, blondes, brunettes, younger, older, etc etc. And I've learned so much more about myself and what I want, and especially what I don't want, to safely say I am confident in my list of items that are necessary for marriage. Limiting yourself to one or two long term relationships that weren't that productive in the first place is only going to limit your ability to be a good spouse, in my humble opinion. So seize the cheeseburger! Say yes! At least you'll get a free meal or a movie. At worst, you'll have a story to post in your very own blog someday.
Alrighty folks, that's all I got this week. Let me know your rants, raves, comments, and queries!

That's A Dealbreaker, Ladies!

2009-05-25T16:25:00.000-07:00

OK Ya'll,
So I entitled this latest post with a tagline from one of my favorite shows, 30 Rock. In the show, Tina Fey is a writer for a sketch comedy show and one of the sketches that has become most popular is one in which Jane Krakowski plays a "relationship expert/talk show host." She advises her guests about matters of the heart and when she recognizes a peccadillo that could be considered a fatal flaw, she bellows "That's a dealbreaker, ladies!" in a grating New Yawk accent. Now, I'm not from the NYC, although I do have a lovely accent I can put on, but I do know a thing or two about deals and how they become irretrievably broken. So in the spirit of the Millionaire Matchmaker meets Tyra Banks, allow me to indulge my ego and share with you a few of the things I feel are dealbreakers all around and those that can be overlooked or tolerated with time. Or as I like to call it, The Great Compromise. Or the 80/20 Rule if you're a Dr. Phil follower. That is to say, 80% of the stuff your significant other does is fine, the other 20% you can get over or deal with or isn't going to end up causing you to scream at the top of your lungs "for the love of GAWD, STOP IT!" I've seen plenty of relationships, some of my own and some of other people's, go down like the Hindenburg because they didn't think it through. So here's my advice. Take it or leave it, but don't say I didn't warn you.
1. Don't get your wagon hitched to someone not on your spiritual level. Now I'm not talking about both of you clearing your aura or having good karma, unless that's your thing, but I'm talking more about religious views (or lack thereof). I happen to be a Christian girl with some pretty strong convictions about certain things, and while I don't expect everyone to agree with me on everything, I do expect the person I share the rest of my life with to have the same basic values and beliefs. I don't care so much that you're a Baptist or a Methodist or Catholic, but we have to see eye to eye on what's happening after we shuffle off this mortal coil and how it is we come to that post life party. This is a tricky thing sometimes, because you don't always know what your potential mate is into until a little further in the game. And sometimes it's tough to extricate yourself from that situation. I spent a good 2.5 years with someone that I knew in the first 6 months wasn't on my plane, but I fought it with every ounce of my being. I wanted him to be different. I wanted to be a positive influence. All I got was somebody who consistently mocked my faith and made me feel like an idiot. I'm telling you now, it doesn't matter how hot he or she is, if you're "unequally yoked" (to put it Biblically), you're going to have problems. Especially if you want to have kids. Because everybody knows that Brooke Shields and Tom Cruise do not a happy couple make. And nobody wants to be glib about post-partum depression.
2. You think he/she will change. Sure, you can vote for it all you want, but let me let you in on a little secret--people don't change. They may change behaviors temporarily, but they don't change who they are at their core. Sometimes the things you think will change are serious issues, sometimes they're little idiosyncrasies you wish would go away. But they won't. Thousands of people go through a lot of shit in their lives and they either rise above it or they sink down in it. But it's not your choice, it's theirs. And marriage/"a good talk"/promising to do better is not going to make it any different. Those 12 step programs have a little saying--you are always in "recovery." You're never a "used to be an alcoholic." You are always a "recovering alcoholic." Because once you think you have it licked, that's when the beast rears it's ugly head and strikes back ten times more forcefully. Same concept for anything you consider to be a problem-- if you see something that's a red flag now, get it taken care of now and get out. Don't wait until you're sitting around alone and lonely wondering what in the hell happened. I know that sounds a little serious or overbearing, but I'm telling you, even a tiny string can unravel an entire cocktail dress if you pick at it long enough. And nobody wants to end up being the one wearing the Emperor's New Clothes.
3. If you don't trust them, don't date (or marry) them. I don't know how many stories I have heard from people (women mostly) who should be in a Peanuts strip because they are so Snoopy. They hack into emails, social networking accounts, wallets, cell phones, etc etc and then get all upset when they find something they didn't want to see. Well guess what honey? If he had nothing to hide, you wouldn't be looking in the first place, so what are you doing with him? Think about it! Why are you digging around in his personal effects? To find a missing lotto ticket or some gum? NO! You don't trust him. Either he's done something to make you mistrust him, or you're paranoid. Who wants to go through life like that? So quit snooping and move on. Or get some professional assistance for your trust issues. Because you will never rest at night feeling like there's something he's hiding.
4. Naggers and Clingers never win. This is where you have to decide if the 20% of stuff that irks you is worth dealing with 95% of the time. So he doesn't take the garbage out like you asked him, or she doesn't put the dishes in the dishwasher. You know this. It's not news to you. But what do you do? You get in a fight once a week about the effen garbage. That's not what the real issue is, and you know it. So either figure out what your problem is and really address it, or put the dishes in the dishwasher yourself. Nagging is not going to get you anywhere except out on the street on your lovely hiney. Right next to the garbage.
Clinginess can also be a real drag to deal with, and a lot of times it has to do with rule #3. I don't know how many people smother their boyfriend/girlfriend because they don't trust them. If you are constantly suctioned to the side of your inamorata like our old seafaring friend the remora, then you're going to earn the resentment of your significant other if they value their independence even one little iota. Guys like to go out and have drinks with the boys; girls like to get together and drink cosmos and have Pure Romance parties. Let 'em go. I promise they'll come home if they really like you. Just don't go snooping through their stuff when they do.
There's another form of clinginess I'd like to address briefly as well; I call it the "Body Bubble Boundary." If you're anything like me, you're a pretty cuddly person when in private. I enjoy piling up on or crawling under the Snuggie with my significant other while lounging on the couch, and I have been prone to episodes of smoochiness on occasion. But when in public, please, for your own dignity and the digestive health of those around you, keep it clean and keep it in your pants. Holding hands, an arm around the shoulder or waist, fine. Maybe even a light peck on the cheek. The hands in the back pockets, spit bathing one another, and generally icky schmoopiness that's best reserved for a grossly overweight gal and her uber-skinny, bemulleted amour at the fair, NO. Save it for the trailer park folks. You don't want to earn the reputation as one of the worst races in all of intergalactic history: The Clingon.
Alright, that's it for this week folks. Send me your rants, raves, comments, and questions. Happy Dating!

It's Hard Out Here For A Pimp

2009-05-09T05:28:00.000-07:00

OK Ya’ll,
So this week I’m going to let you in on a few dating tactics The Big E employs when choosing a suitor. Some of it is just personal preference, some of it is just for practicality’s sake. But I find it makes the dating process, painful as it can be at times, a little more bearable. And I think it’s good advice to boot.
1. Know your limits. Now, I am all for giving it the old Casey Kasem try by attempting to “keep your feet on the ground and keep reaching for the stars” as it were, but sometimes you gotta realize that the stars may be out of reach and you’ve got to be happy hanging out in the troposphere. And by that I mean you have to be realistic about what you look like and what your date looks like, and try to stay within the acceptable range of what you can attract. I know, I know, personality counts for a lot, and looks are subjective. And what’s attractive to one person is different than another person. I understand all that, and I’m not saying exceptions don’t occur. But let’s face it: if you don’t see some kind of cute in there initially, it’s going to be a tough row to hoe. It can be a spark, a hint, a variation of hotness, but it has to be there. I have plenty of guy friends who fall into different categories of hotness—one is baby-faced hot, one is quirky hot, one is tall, bald, and hot, etc etc.—but the fact remains that I, and ostensibly other girls, see that brand of hotness. If they are not the least bit cute, then you might think it’s cool to date them for a little while because of the personality, but that will wear thin quickly. Trust me; I’ve been in this situation a few times. I thought to myself, well, he really really likes me, and thinks I’m pretty, and even though I am not attracted to him in the least physically, perhaps his personality can win me over and make up for it. And initially, things were ok. But I either got a wandering eye after a while or I never stopped letting my eye wander, and I knew it wasn’t going to work. The personality did not make up enough for the lack of physical attraction. I mean, I’m no Christie Brinkley, but I’m no Billy Joel either. I am what guys label as “cute” and “funny”, and though I don’t know how far that will get me on any given evening at the bar, I do know my limits. And though I lust after the impossibly hot guys with the chiseled abs a la Paul Walker, I know for a fact that my looks alone would not be enough to bring him over to my table and offer me a drink. So I set my sights a little lower on the hot scale but a little higher on the intelligence scale. I’m cute enough to land somebody in the same category of cuteness or possibly slightly higher, but I never, ever want to settle for anything lower or a “talk myself into it” situation. And you shouldn’t either. Yes, I have dated guys I thought were way too hot to be with me, and yes, I have dated the Billy Joels. I’m happiest when I’m on an even playing field. And I think you will be too. Because the last thing you want people to think, in the immortal words of my mother, is “it MUST be all in her/his pants.”
2. Abide by the rule of two. In a beginning-to-date situation, like a few weeks in or a couple, three dates in, I try to always stick to the “rule of two”—as in, don’t call/text/email more than twice without a return call/text/email. Accidents happen, so the first call/text/email could have not gone through or been deleted or what have you. Sending the second one should give the hint. A third one just makes you look desperate or needy at best, stalkeresque at worst. I actually had this situation happen to me very recently. I was in communiqué with a lad via email that I had met on the dating site, and we had discussed quite a bit in written form, so I figured things were going well. As luck would have it, he ended up having jury duty on a Thursday. He emailed me during break that day, and I emailed him back, offering my phone number if he chose to communicate that way since jury duty is a little restrictive on email privileges. I didn’t hear from him all weekend. So I sent one more email on Monday, just a single sentence “more jury duty today?” email, to test the waters. No reply. So there’s where I left it. He knows where to find me. I gave him two means of communication. If he can’t employ one or the other or both, that’s not my problem. He either changed his mind or died. Either way, I’ve got to find someone new to buy my drinks, so I better get crackin’!
3. Define your boundaries. You need to know what you are and aren’t comfortable with on the first few dates and what your time frame is for certain activities. I personally have set myself a new rule to try not to kiss on the first date, or to not let it get too Hustler too fast at least. I think if the person is worth seeing again, they’ll get over the fact that you didn’t spit-bath them right away. A nice, lips only kiss sends a good message, one that shows you’re a respectable person who’s interested but not trying to push things too far. But if you’re not feeling your date, or you know things are not going in the right direction, don’t pressure yourself or let them pressure you into thinking you have to kiss them. A nice handshake or a hug gets the point across. You’ll save your dignity, and you’ll be glad you don’t have to worry about getting mono. The same principle applies to subsequent situations in dating. You have to decide before it’s too late how far you’re going to go, when. Nothing’s worse than waking up the next morning and thinking, “GAWD! Why did I do that? I didn’t want to do that yet!!” and then feeling awkward. Plus, suspense and anticipation is a powerful dating tool. If you stick to your guns, it’s not only a show of character, but it can act as an aphrodisiac. Let them work for it, ya’ll. Because once you do it, to borrow a phrase from Juno, “it’s one diddle that can’t be undone.”
4. You are your own best editor. I am the kind of person who has “flaws” that are sometimes embarrassing in public. My volume dial goes up to 11, and I tend to drop the F-Bomb like I’m the Enola Gay flying over Hiroshima. But I know this about myself, and therefore have the ability to kick it down a notch when necessary, namely when I’m trying to impress a date. Now I’m not saying you have to be someone you’re not, because that kind of behavior only comes back to bite you in the end, but a little bit of editing on the “areas of improvement” you may have is never a bad thing until you’ve gotten a feel for how your date will react. The last thing you want to do is tell an off-color joke about the very socioeconomic group his/her grandparents belong to, or have him/her employ the back-up plans early because you are a social menace. Everyone wants to be the best-smelling, best-looking, most intelligent version of themselves they can possibly be. And it doesn’t hurt to give someone glimpses of what a fun, exciting, lively date you are. But take your mother’s advice and be on your best behavior until the comfort level gets a little higher. You’ll be glad you did, and you’ll probably get another date out of it.
So that’s it! Let me know what you think, comments, suggestions, rants and raves.

When You Don't Want To Date...You Just Want A Date For The Evening

2009-05-04T06:40:00.000-07:00

OK Ya'll,
So I thought this week's post would be a little rundown of some ideas I had about how to conduct a successful foray into the "date for the evening" category of relationships. I have found over the years that these types of "relationships" are fraught with complications, hurt feelings, and confusion, and it really doesn't have to be that way if you take a few pieces of advice to heart. So I wanted to offer my advice for hooking up Big E Style. Now, this is not a safety or physical advice type of thing, because we all know what those rules are (use birth control, always have money for a cab, take your phone, let someone know where you are, etc.), but rather how to be successful emotionally and mentally. Because that's where the problems start.
1. You MUST compartmentalize. What I mean is, you have to learn to separate feelings from actions. Men are great at this most of the time. Ladies, not so much. I know there are exceptions to every rule, but for the most part, guys are really good at disassociating the "feelings" aspect of bumping uglies from the "physical" aspect. They don't get all misty eyed when they finish, they don't sit around analyzing every word that was said, and they certainly don't sit around wondering if she'll ever call again. They just put that experience in the spank bank and call it a day. Scientists call this ability "compartmentalizing," meaning they are able to separate emotion from physical feelings, and apparently men are genetically hardwired to be better at it. So ladies, if you're going to hook up, you're going to have to figure out how to do this or you'll end up a blubbering mess the next time you drink a little too much and regale your local barkeep with sob stories. Learn to take it for what it is: he's cute, you're single and cute, he's been drinking some, you've been drinking some, and your hormones are racing faster than the Top 5 at the Kentucky Derby. Don't get to know him, don't ask him questions about his family, just see him as a hot piece just as down for a good time as you are. The minute you start wondering what your kids will look like is the minute you've gone too far. I'm not saying compartmentalizing is easy; I've fallen prey to attaching emotions where there were none, but I've learned from my mistakes. I've also learned that very, very rarely do flings turn into anything real. I was one of those exceptions; I had a vacation fling that turned into a two and half year relationship. The crux of the matter was I didn't get invested straight out of the gate. I met him on vacation, we had a lovely couple of days together, and then I put him in the "vacation fling" cubby hole in my brain and let it be. I never expected him to call again, and I had a great story to tell my friends when I got home. I even told the girls I vacationed with when they asked me if I thought he would call, "no, he got what he wanted, why would he call?" Just because he did, and because we ended up dating, doesn't mean it will ever happen again. And it doesn't mean it will happen to you. So let your mantra be: "relax and detach."You'll thank me one day.
2. Try to stage the rundown on your turf. I am a big proponent of hooking up where you feel most comfortable, and for me that's my own place. Now, I know there are reasons against this, namely you don't want people to know where you live or you have a roommate or whatever. And sometimes it is fun to get down in a new location or a neutral territory like a friend's house. All I'm saying is, if it's possible, then try to bring them back to your place. For one, you don't have to do the walk of shame the next day. You can simply stay in bed while they fumble around for shoes and accessories that got strewn about in the heat of passion, provided you haven't already gathered their belongings by the front door for convenience and ease of exit. You also have the luxury of not having to sneak out, and as an added bonus the opportunity to kick them out at your leisure rather than waiting on them to politely request that you vamoose. Then you can hightail it to the bathroom and get your business done and take a shower while you compartmentalize.
3. If you go to their place, drive your own car. Sort of a corollary to #2, but I find it easier to make a quick getaway if you have a getaway car. If you don't, you run the risk of being trapped in someone's house for hours until they wake up, or having to call a friend to pick you up and you have no idea where you are, or the worst, having to call a cab and you have no idea where you are. That said, obviously if you've had too much to drink when you're planning your hookup, you need to cab it or get a drop off or have him drive your car to his house. But if you're even close to being lucid enough to drive, hang out for a little longer and tantalize him while sobering up enough to drive to said staging area. You'll be glad you did when it's 6 am and you're ready to crash in your own bed.
4. Be a little discerning about who your chosen victim will be. The gene pool is not as varied in some places as in others, so I realize that you may not have the ability to be a "Jif girl" and be choosy. But at least try to avoid the following categories of folks for hooking up purposes: people who have a crush on you, people you have a crush on, exes, people your friends have dated and are not over yet. If you can narrow it down even a little bit, your chances of A. not causing drama and B. not getting stalked/being a stalker are significantly lessened. Like I said before, feelings are the number one reason hook ups turn into epic fails. If you have any emotional attachments still lingering or unspoken, you're taking a risk. And the only person you hurt is usually yourself. If you simply must choose a friend or acquaintance, the same "no feelings" rule still applies. You have to be sure that you're both cool with hanging out in the group without being awkward. Because there's nothing worse than the scene in Reality Bites right after Lainey and Troy hook up and things are all weird at the club. In the words of Vicki, "sex is the quickest way to ruin a friendship." Make sure your pros and cons list is well thought out before you take that leap.
5. Know when to say no. It's like the old saying goes, "friends don't let friends get with lame hookups." If the person has a significant other or a spouse, just say no. If the person is a known player and you find yourself falling prey to his charms, just say no. You'll be one of the very few who probably will. And you'll be glad you did, not only for your emotional well being, but your dignity as well. You have to make things work on your terms, not someone elses, or you'll end up with a bunch of regrets at the end of the day. You have to take control of your situation and know what you're doing. If you're out one night and you feel like hooking up, think about your plan of action. If you're cool with compartmentalizing and making it work, then all signs point to yes. If your gut tells you you're making a mistake, take a hint and just let it go. Like I said, you'll be glad you did.
So that's it folks. Let me know what you think or if you have other suggestions.

When Stating the Obvious is Just Too Much

2009-04-27T07:43:00.000-07:00

OK Y'all,
So I thought today's post would be a little something for everyone. I recently saw the movie "He's Just Not That Into You" which was adapted from a book by the same name which was written by a guy who coined the term as a writer for Sex and The City. I thought the movie was pretty good, and honestly I thought it should be a primer for every single girl who enters the dating pool. Instead of sex ed in seventh grade, a completely useless exercise in the futility of making teenagers harness their raging hormones long enough to understand WHY humping your girlfriend's leg is far superior to being an after-school special caveat, they should have "Dating 101"starting in fifth grade. Would have saved The Big E much torment and heartache as a young girl with a yen for wrestlers, I'll tell you that much.
Anyhoosle, I thought I would compose my own list of "signs he's just not that into you" for the gals and "signs she's just not that into you" for the fellas. Some of this comes from personal experience. OK, pretty much all of it comes from personal experience. And I also think that in addition to being "not into" someone, I would add in "signs that his/her interest is fading faster than Bruce Willis' hair line in the 90's" because sometimes you don't get the boom lowered on you until it's a little later in the game. So without further ado...
"Signs that He's Just Not That Into You...or Into You Anymore"
1. When you call or text him, he always returns your call or text when you are unavailable. Trust me girls, a guy is not totally clueless. If he's paying even a little bit of attention, he knows when you're supposed to be around and when you're not. The occasional phone tag is to be expected, no one can get to the phone every single time. But when there's a pattern of, "everytime he calls me back, it's after 11 pm" and your bed time is 10, or "he always texts me when I'm at work" and you don't work at a job where you can talk or text during the day, then I'm sorry sweetie, he's not feeling it. Don't make excuses. He's not so busy that he can't make an effort to reach you when you're available or better yet, lucid. He just doesn't care.
2. His gifts become increasingly practical or unromantic. Now, before you go all batshit on me, guys, let me explain. I know that men are not the best gift pickers sometimes. And I know that a lot of the time, it's because women are not the best hint givers. Ladies, do your boyfriend/husband/whatever a favor and TELL him OUTRIGHT what you want for your birthday/anniversary/christmas. I sent my last boyfriend links to the items I wanted from the Victoria's Secret catalog online, complete with size and color preference. And guess what? I got what I wanted for Christmas. It really is that easy. Guys won't complain, and you'll be glad you told him what to get you instead of suffering through yet another argument as to why he can't read your damn mind. BUT, that said, if he starts out gangbusters and really does a good job and then a year or two in starts getting you gift cards to Best Buy or flip flops as a birthday gift when he used to get you flowers and a trip to New York and Company, something's up. I mean, what smart, fun, attractive girl gets flip flops as a birthday gift when they don't come as a precursor to a package deal to Sandals? One that's on her way out, that's who.
3. He tries to get out and you won't let him. If your boyfriend/husband/whatever starts acting shady, it's completely within your rights to ask him why. I'm not talking about him being a little secretive right around your birthday, because there could be an awesome trip to Sandals and/or a surprise party. I'm talking doesn't call when he says he will, breaks plans or stands you up completely at the last minute, starts hanging out with much younger or completely different people type of stuff. And if you call him on the carpet and he starts spouting off some existential bullshit about having a quarter-life or mid-life or I don't have a life crisis, calmly roll out the rest of that carpet and send him packing right down the middle of it. You, hot mama, don't need to beg, plead, or otherwise humiliate yourself by trying to make him change his mind and want to stay. At best, you're guilting him into staying and prolonging the inevitable kiss off even longer. At worst, you'll move on and be happier without that schmuck in your life. Trust me, it only took The Big E three months of begging, pleading, and humiliation to be strung along and ultimately completely blindsided when the boy she was in love with ended up getting engaged and moving in with another woman, all while telling Big E that he "just needed to figure some things out, but I love you and want to be with you as soon as I do." Hard lesson to learn, yes. One I will have to learn again? HELL NO. If he gets over it and comes crawling back, it's up to you. But I'd think twice before putting myself through THAT again.
4. He only dates you after hours, or at your house. Ladies, this may seem like an obvious one, but if he's taking you to out of the way places at an hour when you should be in bed, there's something up. Same rule applies if he only wants to come over to your place, and you've never ever been to his place, or it was one time on a random week night and he acted nervous. I had a very handsome "friend" who would call me up, usually on a Monday, and want to play "music trivia" at his house at like, 9 o'clock. Alone. Why? because his wife was traveling out of town for her job and that was the only time he could see me after his 6 month old baby was asleep. Shady, shady, shady. I went the first time because he made it seem like other people would be there. Then I realized the jig was up, and I have politely excused myself since.
5. He doesn't introduce you to friends or family. This is a corollary to #4 more or less. If he's even the least bit interested in a future with you, he'll want you to meet his friends. His friends are an extension of his family, and in many cases, could be closer to him than family. If he constantly makes excuses as to why you can't meet them or don't want to meet them, he either doesn't have any friends whatsoever, OR he's not feeling it. Same applies for the family. If you've been going out for a while and he won't take you to meet the 'rents, you've got a problem. Namely, he's not feeling it. This applies even to long distance relationships. If he wants you, he will go out of his way to make things happen. Everyone's timeline is different, but if you feel it in your gut that something's not right, then go with it. If it's been a year and you have no idea who his friends or family are, then GET OUT.

"Signs She's Just Not That Into You...or Into You Anymore"
1. She wears sweatpants almost exclusively...even out to dinner. Guys, if your lady is anything like The Big E, she wants to impress you and wants you to be proud to have her on your arm. She will buy a new outfit, which you will probably not even notice, because she wants to look good for her. It would help if you would compliment her when she looks nice, even if it's a run of the mill dinner out, because it does make her feel better, and it could possibly get you laid. In any event, if the nice outfits start dwindling, or if her appearance gets to be more "slatternly" than "flattering," you may want to take stock. Five'll getcha ten, she's not taking the time because her interest is waning or she's feeling taken for granted. Now, on weekends and in the evenings, everyone has to put on their "wallerin' jammies" and lay on the couch some. But if it's every day, all day, take a temp check. She might be running a little low.
2. She doesn't give you her number, just her email address. As a dating site member, I can email potential suitors through their email client. After the exchange of information has reached an acceptable timbre (meaning I don't think you're a psycho and I might be interested in letting you purchase me a drink), I'll either ask for the gentleman's phone number or offer mine. Those who do not get such an invitation are those I don't deem worthy of The Big E's physical presence. So take that as a hint, fellas.
3. She's constantly busy, to the point of not having a spare moment. Especially not for you. Now, there are people out there who lead quite challenging and time-consuming lives, and they have perhaps over-extended themselves on the social calendar. But if they really feel you're worth it, they'll squeeze you in. Drinks, dinner, breakfast, whatever--they'll try their best to find the time to see you. If not, you can probably safely assume that they feel their time is better spent over-extending themselves and not extending invitations to you. Take a hint and just let it go, man.
4. Physical contact is at a minimum. Now I'm not talking about people who have been dating for a while and perhaps the ardor has cooled off enough to let you actually get to know the real them. I'm talking about the first few dates or so. If a girl likes you, she will subconsicously find little ways to touch you. Not like grabbing your crotch or licking your face (though that has been known to convey interest quite effectively), but subtle things like touching your arm when she is telling a story or standing closer to you at the bar so that you brush against her when someone tries to walk past you. If she's not exhibiting any kind of contact, or if her body language is closed off (legs and arms crossed, not making a lot of eye contact, etc.), or if she shakes your hand at the end of the date rather than hugging you, then it's probably time to hang it up and call it a day. Trust me, if we're feeling it, we will--we will--touch you!
5. She picks on you about everything. I have to say this is probably a big fault of mine. When I am not into someone, I pick on every little thing that's wrong with them. It doesn't matter if it's major or minor, I will hone in on it like a fat kid at the buffet. And I tell them every single thing I find wrong. Many, many times. Yes, it's rude and demeaning, and yes, I know it's really a horrible way to treat someone because I would hate to be treated that way myself. I didn't say I was perfect, and I didn't say it was the right thing to do. But if your girl is anything like me, she's just looking for a way out. So give her one.

Alright, that's it folks! Let me know your thoughts or comments!

What Not To Wear...Or Ever, Ever Do While Dating

2009-04-19T12:38:00.000-07:00

OK Ya'll,
so I thought I would write a blog that really shouldn't need to be written. But unfortunately, some people in this world, though they are adults, don't seem to act like it on a date or in the process of trying to date someone. Or don't seem to act like an adult with any common sense, I should say. Hell, I'd take a step out there and say they don't even act like sentient beings half the time. In light of that fact, I'll now regale you with another list of, along with the story behind, many things that have been the undoing of many a poor soul who dared cross the line of acceptability when attempting to date The Big E. Hitch up your shorts and set a spell, this one's a doozy.
1. Don't play your perv card too early. There's a time and place for everything. Even the Bible tells me so. The time to ask your lady companion to hike up her dress and let you look at her in nothing but her leggings is not on the third date, however. Let me back up and tell you about the situation. I went out a couple of times with this guy, we'll call him The Pervinator. First date was fine, dinner and a movie, nothing out of the ordinary. Second date, dinner and then a movie at my house. Now, gentle reader, normally The Big E does not condone inviting a gentleman caller to your home until you have established a higher level of comfort. You always meet the gentleman at your preferred dining establishment, and you always make back up plans, especially on the first date. In this case, and I know this may come as a shock to many of you, I felt somewhat pressured into inviting him over. He seemed to be indirectly hinting toward it, and though I was not 100% comfortable, I invited him anyway. Again, nothing extraordinary, just watched a movie and a kiss goodnight. Third date was a whole other story. This chap lived a fair piece down the road, and The Big E is not averse to traveling for a quality date. But when Cracker Barrel is the nicest place in town for dinner and then you have to travel a minimum of 30 minutes back up off the interstate to get to BFE where your house is, I think I may have to reconsider my travel per diem and save it for a pint of Ben and Jerry's and some High Life. Again, though, Big E felt a little bit pressured to go so she did against her better judgment. And that's when it hit the fan. For starters, his house was dirty. You don't entertain ladies in your bachelor pad with shit strewn all over every available surface. If you don't know how to clean, call your momma to come help. Then he crossed the line.
Strike 1 was when he kept pulling me over on him without provocation, trying to make out with me, saying things like "Give me some love, let's make out, etc etc" to which The Big E said, "no, I'm trying to watch Idol. Back up off me, fool."
Strike 2 was Pervinator's repeated requests to go into his bedroom and lie down to watch television, to which Big E replied "uh, no, I'm not lying in your bed when I barely even know you. Back up off me, fool." As if the refusal to make out would be remedied by a duvet.
Strike 3 was just enough straw to bring this camel's spinal column to a tragic end. Right before I left, Pervinator says to me "why don't you pull your dress up and let me look at you in just your leggings?" Now keep in mind, Big E was clad in a super cute jumper-turtleneck-leggings ensemble with heels, and I am irresistibly cute, but nevertheless...you don't go there. Not on the third date, not without alcohol, and not without prior indication from Big E that asking that type of question may be apropos. Needless to say, none of the aforementioned conditions were met. Big E was aghast and incredulous at such a request and politely declined. The next day, our friend The Pervinator got walking papers via text, and his response was thus: "I didn't force you to do anything." Who the fuck are you--Kobe Bryant? Seriously. Good riddance to bad rubbish, and let that be a lesson to all of you not to play the perv card before it's time and you have express written permission.
2. Don't be an Indian Giver. I recently received an email from a potential suitor from the dating site I'm on, and he looked somewhat promising. The only caveat was that he listed "yes, and they live away from home" in the "got kids?" dept. Big E is not kid-friendly as I've mentioned before, but I'll at least make friends with you for a free drink. After a few email exchanges, the Potential Suitor asks Big E if she'd like to have a drink. I said yes, when is a good time for you, PS? And he emails back a place, time, and description of the vehicle he is driving. On second examination, he then sends another email entitled "Ugh, I hate doing this!" that reads "After I made plans with you, I re-read your profile and I don't think we'll be a good match!" To which I replied "Alrighty then. Good luck and read more carefully next time." What am I supposed to say? That was A. rude and B. in poor taste. I'm glad I didn't get three dates in and start showing off my leggings before he pulled the plug, though.
3. Pay for her drinks, especially if you have a skin condition. The Big E recently met up with another interested party from the online arena at a local dining establishment to have a few cocktails and adult conversation. We'll call this interested party The Cortizone King. Now, in CK's profile and email exchanges, he seemed somewhat intelligent and friendly. What he failed to mention, and I'm not really sure how one would, is that he is covered in a lovely little dermatological issue called eczema. And not just a minor patch here or there that could be remedied by wearing sleeves, but full on face neck arms and hands eczema. Being the complete heartless bitch that I am on the inside, I cringed internally and tried not to stare whilst wrestling with the kind and caring persona I was trying to radiate externally. I thought perhaps multiple libations would help me become more kind, caring, and tolerant. Eight beers in, I had to use my back up option and politely inform my date that I simply must be going because I couldn't take it anymore. It was either hightail it out of there, or start making not-so-freudian slips regarding his epidermis. So what did he do while I excused myself to the restroom? He asked for the check. Separate checks. As in, The Big E sat here for 2.5 hours listening to you talk about Keith Sweat and scratch your crusty self and you can't even buy her two for one Miller Lites? Weak. A friend of mine suggested perhaps he was saving his money to buy Cortizone 10. I told my friend he was going to need a lot more than the $20 it cost for my bar tab.
4. Don't act like your shit doesn't stink. The day after the Eczematic Express rolled on through the station, The Big E had a drink meeting with another candidate for her affection. This bloke looked to be a fun time, had a witty profile, and exhibited a few interesting topics in the email exchange. He was not what you would call a "Dash Riprock" in the Looks Department, but he seemed to be one of those that personality can upgrade. Oh, how quickly the barometer changed. Big E met him at a downtown pub, and upon exchanging pleasantries, launched into the witty banter she's known for. What she gleaned from the responses from her date was that Knoxville is basically the biggest piece of shit place he's ever been and UTK is the biggest piece of shit school he's ever attended. So he automatically earned the moniker "Smuggy Smuggerson." SS proceeded to yammer on about how much better other places he had been were in comparison to our fair burg. I wanted to look at him and say, "You're from FLORIDA for fuck's sake! Nobody thinks anything about Florida is cool except the Golden Girls!" Needless to say, Big E failed to see the superiority of his company and quickly threw his credentials in the Ol' File 13. At least he paid for my drinks.

So, that's just a few little pieces of advice I've got to offer to all you in Datesylvania. Like I said, it's unfortunate that I would even have to dole out such suggestions, but there are those out there who don't seem to grasp the concept of "put your best foot forward," probably because said foot is firmly lodged in their mouth. It's also a cautionary tale in case you were perhaps questioning your dating behavior. Caveat Emptor, friends, and Happy Dating!

The Unbearable Lightness of Being...On a Date

2009-04-13T07:36:00.000-07:00

OK Ya'll,

So while I was out testing the waters of the gene pool yet again this weekend, it occurred to me that there are two things absolutely necessary to get through most situations in life, but particularly a new date: a bottle of wine and a good sense of humor. Obviously the wine helps unleash the sense of humor some people are hiding; it can also intensify the one you already have on display. But a sense of humor, not just yours but your date's, is essential for getting past the awkward "Hey, howyadoin'?" introductory jitters and also for taking subsequent awkward situations in stride. I was pleased that my date this weekend thought to offer me both the wine and the good humor. It goes a little something like this....

We met up at Tomato Head for some din-din and conversation. For those of you who have never been to Tomato Head, it is an eclectic little joint that offers tasty food and some pretty decent hippie watching. We were surrounded by no less than three tables of mixed sexual orientation in the 2 hours we were there! One guy looked like Jimmy Buffett, if Jimmy Buffett were being played by Richard Simmons in a made-for-Lifetime-movie. Good stuff.

Anyhooser, the Tomato Head also has artwork festooning their otherwise drab beige walls, and sometimes this artwork is tasteful, sometimes it is complete and utter swill. The particular selection gracing our table fell into the latter category. I took a picture of it with my camera phone, so it's not the best but you can get the gist of it above. I asked my date what he thought the craptastic paint-by-numbers job that we were forced to endure was supposed to be, and together we came up with the following ideas:

1. Randy Owen (the lead singer from Alabama) has a bad manicure and has just busted in on Neo from the Matrix and they're getting ready to duke it out Industrial Light and Magic style.

2. Randy Owen is a werewolf, inexplicably topless but managing to keep on dark denim (so 2 years ago) and is trying to intimidate a disheveled, cardigan-clad Mexican vampire named Luis.

3. Randy Owen and Luis the Mexican vampire are possibly homosexuals and are having a techno dance party, but you can't see the disco ball because it's outside the frame of reference of the picture, though their hands are raised as if they are already sweating to some raunchy Pet Shop Boys remix.

Any other thoughts or suggestions are welcome.

I have no doubt that the bottle of wine being 3/4 gone had a lot to do with the level of participation, but I will have to give the boy props for going along with the madness that is the Mind of The Big E. It's not every day you have a date willing to indulge your sardonic critique of some poor schmuck's ridiculously elementary artwork. Even I know you've got to draw some sort of shadowing beneath a person's feet in a painting or they look like they're levitating. Get serious. And the sad part is, this child wanted $250 for that piece of shit. I wouldn't walk from here to my front door (around 30 feet) to pick it up off the sidewalk for free. But I digress.

I really appreciated my date for being so jovial and willing to go along with me. I also really appreciated that he provided a lovely bottled libation that appealed to my epicurean side while being a participant in our MOMA moment. It was cultured and crass at the same time, which is increasingly hard to find these days. So my advice to you, gentle reader, is this: I would encourage those of you out there who are more or less quirky like me to just let it all hang out. If your date jumps in with both feet and provides more color commentary, fantastique! If not, I'd politely let him pick up the check and then feign an illness or at the very least have backup plans post-date so you don't have to lie. I always make back-up plans with friends, just in case. You never know when you're going to have a stage 5 clinger on your hands or you've got to make a quick getaway because Mr. Diarrhea of the Mouth has just told you all about his quest for the perfect remedy for his raging case of eczema. Or on the off chance that you end up liking the person, you can always invite them along so they can get a sense of what you're like in your natural habitat. It's a win-win most of the time. So, happy dating, and leave me a comment if you want!

Dude...we just got Dorffed!

2009-04-10T06:39:00.000-07:00

OK Ya'll,
The theme of this post can best be summed up in the first few lines of "Bust A Move" by Young MC:
This here's a tale for all the fellas
Try to do what those ladies tell us
Get shot down 'cause you're overzealous
Play hard to get females get jealous
Basically, this is a story about a minor brush with fame, and how that minor brush was just as bad as some of you regular guys out there feel you are in the "pick-up line" department. I tell you this to make you feel better about yourselves, guys. Because if this B-lister can't knock the socks off of The Big E, then you've still got a shot. It's also a little bit of a lesson in how to avoid coming across as a douchebag (now in a convenient 2-pack)!
So I was out a couple of winters ago with a couple of girlfriends in Nashville, and these girls and I were looking to "straighten up our act and boogie down" as it were. I'll call my friends "Fran" and "Kat" for posterity's sake. Fran, Kat, and The Big E are a sophisticated bunch, and we are diverse enough to offer a little bit of something for everyone. Fran is oh-so-lovely, lithe, and boho chic; Kat is glam and straight out of Junior League. The Big E, as you know, is a little bit country and a little bit rock and roll. So we went to dinner at Sambuca, and then headed over to a dance club/bar called Layla Rul. The upstairs area is where all the action happens--there's a bar (natch) and along the walls are couches and seating areas, and then there are some tables scattered around the dance floor. Fran, Kat, and I perched our fine selves at a table near the dance floor and got us a frosty libation to enjoy whilst we watched all the white people try to shake it like a pen out of ink. And then he appeared....
It was like he just materialized at my elbow. I was sitting by myself across the table from Fran and Kat, and when I looked to my left, he was standing there, all five feet eight inches of him, looking at me. I was about eye level with him because the chair I sat in was one of those high top bar stool jobs. He looked like an aging frat boy with too much hair gel for his rapidly receding hairline, and a unlimited visit membership to the local Suntan Station. He was reasonably cute, but not enough to make The Big E lose her wits. THAT would take someone like, oh, Paul Walker. So he reaches out a hand and says, "Hi, I'm Stephen, I'm from L.A." Now, gentle reader, keep in mind that The Big E has a reputation to uphold, and since I am pretty fab I don't want just any old person knowing my true identity. I mean, Batman doesn't go around introducing himself as Bruce Wayne when he's in full crime-fighting regalia does he? Absolutely not. The Big E is always "Amy from Atlanta" when she is out on the town and surveying her domain. Those who dare approach don't get the real story until they prove themselves worthy.
So I shake his hand and say, "Hi! I'm Amy, I'm from Atlanta." To which he replies, "That's cool. I was born in Atlanta. So how are you ladies doing?" I made small talk with him for a minute before he turns to appraise my two lovely ladyfriends, who I must say were absolutely non-plussed at our visitor's appearance or demeanor. He attempted to make small talk with Kat and Fran to no avail. They rebuffed him as if he were not a B-list star with a questionable taste in fashion and dating choices.
This whole exchange was rather innocuous until he made the mistake of revealing the inner-douchebag too early....
After a couple of dead ends, he looks at Fran and says "Why are you being so mean? I'm like, the best looking guy in here." And then, without warning, he whips his head around in full Blue Steel Zoolander fashion, and gives us his best "reeeally reeeally good-loooking" face as he takes a sip from the teeny-weeny straw in his cocktail and stares us down. It was just like the movies, in slow motion, where the disco ball drops out of the sky, the smoke machine starts churning, and "Dreamweaver" starts playing in the background. He really, honestly, thought he was the shit. He thought that his Magnum look would be all it would take to turn three lovely, confident females into steaming pools of slavering jello. And while I admire his bravado and swagger, alas, he was mistaken. Sorely mistaken, I might add. Homey don't play that.
It was all we could do not to do a spit-take right in his face. Being the calm, cool-as-a-cucumber-in-a-bowl-of-hot-sauce gal that Fran is, she wittily retorted, "I'm not being mean, I'm just not into boys." And somewhere in the distance, I heard the immortal words of Bon Jovi ringing out through the streets of Nashville: SHOT DOOOOOOWN, IN A BLAZE OF GLOOOOORY.... Let me tell ya, brother man could not make his exit stage right fast enough. He skulked off to the other side of the room, behind some roped off section of couches more or less concealed by the security staff. We tried to look and see who else was back there, but we were unsuccessful.
Afterward, I looked at my lady friends and I said, "uh, girls, I think that was Stephen Dorff. Or it looked a lot like him." They were incredulous. So I did some research on the internet, and his stats matched up to what he has listed on imdb. You can check it out here:
http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0001151/
Fran checked around with a few reliable local gossip sources, and sure enough, Our Boy Dorff was in town that weekend, chillin' with Kid Rock. I guess perhaps they had bonded since they both dated Pam Anderson, and consequently probably both have Hepatitis now. Sucks for them, but thank GAWD we didn't fall for it and end up with a terminal liver illness. We prefer the kind of liver illness you can sleep off and re-hydrate to prevent. Now every time I go to Nashville to visit Fran, I tell her, "Hey! Let's go get Dorffed!" and we just laugh and laugh at how lame he was.
So, like I said, a minor brush with a B-list celebrity, but the moral of the story is this....fellas, if you're genuine, sincere, and friendly, we can't fault you for that. Even if you're not our type, you won't get shot down too harshly because we appreciate your effort. However, if you attempt some serious cockery, acting like you're hot snot on a silver platter when you're just cold boogers on a paper plate, your justice will be swift and it will be blindingly painful. A simple, "Hi, my name is (insert name here). What's yours?" or even better, "I saw you over here and wanted to say hello. Can I buy you a drink?" will suffice. No need to pull out your best David Beckham impersonation, no need to be arrogant, just chill til the next episode. Otherwise you might be asked to borrow your lighter. And when we flick that little flame up in the air and sing "Dream On", you know you've been dismissed.

We Should Mate...uh...I mean, date

2009-04-09T10:51:00.001-07:00

OK Ya'll,
So here recently I signed up for a dating site, just to see what's out there and what kind of ego boost The Big E could get. I'd been on this particular site a few years back, right before I met the King of Shitty Ex-Boyfriends, aka El Douchebag, and I thought I'd check it out again. My previous experience did not yield very good results--I'd gone out with a couple of guys, but nothing worked out. One guy was too young and naive and therefore I felt bad corrupting his pure, white soul, and another guy was decent but short, and unfortunately all his other appendages were as disappointingly as short as he was. So much so that I had resorted to watching tv during the act so both of us could at least feel something somewhere.
Recent experience has not been much better. I signed up sometime around the first of this year, for a 3 month stint in cyberdating and all the accoutrements thereof. I took the time to carefully craft a witty yet intriguing profile best suited to my strengths--namely, sarcasm, devastatingly gorgeous photos, and a smattering of above-average vocabulary skills. As was to be expected in my first few days, I had a couple of takers right off the bat. One who ended up meeting another girl and thus becoming a friend, one who I actually went out with. I'll tell you all about THAT debacle in a later post. Suffice it to say he's not getting another date with Big E. Rather, I'd prefer a restraining order, or at least a thorough psychological evaluation by said dating site before I'd unleash him on the rest of the unsuspecting XX chromosomes out there. I've been on a few more dates with a few more unremarkable fellas since then, and I've actually got another date this weekend. But I digress.
The point of telling you all this is not to brag about my exploits, but rather to inform you of a few pointers that I'd like to share regarding profiles. I highly encourage those of you who are interested in a good laugh and maybe even a guffaw or two to check out a dating site, because entertainment value alone is worth the time you take to create a profile and post it up for the world to see. If you're even halfway serious at all, however, please take into account the following "tips and tricks" The Big E wants to share with you to make your foray into cybersex the best it can be.
1. Men (and I would say ladies too!! *clawing eyes out*) PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE do not post photos of yourself with no shirt on. I don't care if you're Paul Walker or Paul Giamatti--nobody wants to see that!! It's not funny, endearing, or even remotely sexy, so just don't. If for no one else's sake but your dignity's.
2. DO NOT TYPE YOUR WHOLE PROFILE IN ALL CAPS. I know where the caps lock button is, and I know how to gently reach over with my pinky and tap it so that it is not on all the time. The girl who actually takes the time to look at the sad representation of your life in 2000 words or less will thank you, and so will her optometrist, for saving the eyestrain.
3. Conversely, do not type your entire profile in all lower case. And please, for the love of Zeus, use punctuation! I cannot tell you how many profiles I have seen that look like this:
i like to go snowboarding skiing golfing and anything outdoors i am laid back and fun i like to go to the movies...
and so on. Do yourself a favor and familiarize yourself with the Shift key and those lovely little buttons right next to the 'm' on your keyboard. Spelling, not to mention grammar, is important as well. I understand the occasional typo, but for Pete's sake, it is "your" meaning it belongs to you and "you're" to contract the words 'you are.' And 'too' means in addition, or as well as, like "I'd like to date you, too, GoodGrammarGuy29!"; 'to' means going somewhere, or to set off a phrase prepositionally as a modifier, like "I'm going to have to delete you from my favorites, IdiotALLCAPSGuy14".
4. Help a sister out and try to come up with something original to say. There are at least 3 out of 5 profiles I read on a daily basis that start with "I'm a laid-back, fun loving guy who is down to earth.." or "I hate talking about myself on here! What am I supposed to say?"
Well for starters you could say you don't have an original bone in your body and you are probably just as shitty to talk to in person as you are on your 2000 word or less profile. The most read profiles are the ones that grab your attention in the first sentence or two. So in the words of Chaka Khan, tell me something good. Tell me about the coolest place you've ever been. Tell me the craziest thing you've ever done for love. Tell me something besides how effing laid back you are. Because that gets you a little red 'x' for delete faster than anything.
5. DO NOT tell people that your ex-girlfriend is crazy or that you just got out of a really long relationship!! I read one profile that literally said this "well ive been divorced twice and had one broken engagement.." ARE YOU EFFING SERIOUS? NO self respecting girl is going to hitch her caboose to that train wreck. You might as well pack up that moonshine still and head on back to your trailer, Jeb, 'cuz there ain't nobody out there fer ya like yer sister.
6. Have an eye-catching headline that's not so ridiculously overdone that it's lame. If I have to read "Insert Headline Here" or "Hi Ladies!" one more time, I think I will have to get a new motherboard because mine will be fried from vomitous explosion. What about a line from your favorite movie (as long as it's not "Hello, Clarice" or something you watched on your favorite porn channel recently) or a nice quote from your favorite book (assuming you know how to read)? Nobody said you have to be Shakespeare, but do try to put some thought into it.

So that's about all I have to say about creating a dating profile worth reading. I'd love to hear your thoughts and comments though!

Dating Application

2009-04-08T07:08:00.000-07:00

OK Ya'll (don't I sound like Paula Deen when I say that?),
Here's a little something I created a while back that I really think could help weed out the sick and the old of the herd when it comes to finding a suitable dating partner. Just for shits and giggles.
I'll just tell ya now, I'm not a kid person, I probably don't want any, and I'm fine with that. I'm not in the market for an insta-family. I'm also particularly disapproving of any kind of illicit substance use, even recreationally, in my date. Pre-emptorily, before you email or comment about how uptight I am, think about it from my perspective....do you really want to date some burnout stoner or someone who can't handle stress by any other means than to murder innocent, defenseless brain cells? They could have used those brain cells to come up with a better solution, or cure cancer for Pete's sake!! Gawd. I have plenty of friends who indulge themselves and I don't judge them. I am also not dating them. It's nobody's business what you do with your free time. I like to read dorky teenager books and sing songs to my cats (and then wonder why I'm single), and I'd hope my friends don't hold that against me. So calm down and take it in stride.
Also you're wasting your time by giving me shit for not wanting kids or being kid friendly. I've heard it all before and I remain unmoved. Kids are not for me, end of story.
So here's the dating app. Read it and weep.

Application For Prolonged Entertainment By The Big E

Name (Last, First, Middle)________________________________________________

Preferred Name or Nickname (if it is stupid, I will not call you that) ______________________________________________________________________

Phone number (Home, Cell, and Work—must be reachable at all times) _______________________________________________________________________

Date of Birth_______________________

Body Type/Height_________________________________________________________

Education Level__________________________________________________________

Employment status/type____________________________________________________

Do you enjoy having an adult libation upon occasion? Yes or No
How often?______________________________________________________________

Do you smoke? Yes or No
(if you smoke, please turn in your application immediately. Your services are not needed at this time unless we become desperate for a booty call)

Do you do any kind of recreational drugs, even on occasion? Yes or No
(if you chose yes, please turn in your application immediately. Your services are not needed at this time. Not even for a booty call.)

Date(s) of Prior Relationship (MM/DD/YY) to (MM/DD/YY)
Name of Ex-Girlfriend (Bitchface is not an acceptable answer)_____________________
Why did this relationship end? Be specific and detailed. ________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Children in the household? If so, please list names, ages, and maternal history:_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

(If you entered any information in the above field for children in the household, please stop writing and turn in your application immediately. Your services will not be needed at this time, although we will keep your application on file for a minimum of 6 (six) months after the date of application should we become desperate for a booty call)
Religious Beliefs (check one)
Baptist
Catholic
Methodist
Presbyterian
None of the Above
(if you entered none of the above, please explain the reason you think you are going to keep your soul out of everlasting torment) ________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

I am interested in (check all that apply)
Marriage
Short Term (6 mo-1 yr) Dating leading to Marriage
Long Term (1 yr-infinity) Dating leading to Marriage
Booty Call leading to Short and/or Long Term Dating leading to Marriage
I would like to have children (check one)
Yes
No
I don’t mind, it’s up to you, I am fine either way and I will not change my mind later on down the road and say I really wanted kids when I said I didn’t care to begin with.

How many days a week are you interested in intercourse?_______________________
Do you cuddle afterwards? Yes or No

How many days a week do you work out?____________________________________

What kind of foods do you dislike? Be specific.________________________________

What is your stance on paying for dates the majority of the time?___________________________________________________________________

What is your stance on public displays of affection?________________________________________________________________

What is your stance on minor weight gain (5-10 lbs) and major weight gain (15-30 lbs) of your significant other (i.e., Big E)?____________________________________________

Do you remember birthdays, anniversaries, the first date you went on, what she was wearing, and her family’s names and birthdays?
Yes or No
If you do not remember, will you make a concerted effort without being told to remember said things so you do not end up in the doghouse like your friends do? Yes or No

How stingy are you? (check one)
Extremely—I wouldn’t give my own mother a dollar to save her life from a maneating shark.
Somewhat—I will purchase gifts but only if they are under $10
Not at All—I want my woman to have the best of everything on my dime.

How amenable are you to performing favors for your significant other?
I will not help out with anything.
I will do some things, like bring you something to drink, but not others, such as holding your purse at the mall while you try on clothes or housework.
I will do anything and everything—hungry? I’ll cook. Dirty? I’ll clean. Purse? Hand it over and pick out something pretty.

Any other talents or special qualities you feel the Big E should consider in your application review? ________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Thank you for taking the time to apply with the Big E. We will contact you as soon as we have made a decision regarding your date worthiness.

Inaugural Blog

2009-04-08T06:20:00.000-07:00

Hey Ya'll! Welcome to the inaugural Frog Blog, the blog I have created to share my dating experiences, advice, and words of wisdom. Because we all know that to get to your Prince (not the Purple One, but the man of yo' dreams!), you gotta kiss a lotta frogs. And let me tell you, some of those frogs are the worst kissers in the world, or they have zero bedside manner, or they don't even get to the kiss because they're ridiculously weird. I know that if I've been through it, you've probably been through it too, so I thought it might be fun to share some of those crazy stories so you don't feel so bad for thinking "WTF is wrong with this dude?" or worse, "WTF is wrong with ME?"

So let me tell you a little bit about myself. I'm a SWF with an attitude. I have been called funny, and sometimes bitchy, and I put them together to create the image that is The Big E. Sarcasm is probably my most endearing and most polarizing quality. I'm a caring person, and a giving person, but I'm also a princess and I'm proud. I have realized over the years that you can be ready to settle down, but you should never settle. I wear my heart on my sleeve, and hiding my feelings on anything is usually an exercise in futility. This works for and against me at times, especially in relationships. I have pretty high standards, both for myself and others. I have been called "Napoleon" for being stringent in those standards (and also for being short), but I find that my diminuitive stature and unwavering hard-headedness have served me well. However, it hasn't stopped me from going out with a bunch of dudes that were all wrong for me, and it hasn't kept me from getting my heart broken or my feelings hurt. Nobody's perfect.
That said, I hope you enjoy my blog, and please feel free to comment and send me email with your stories, questions, or nuggets of wisdom.