We need to talk...

Dear Readers,

We need to talk. When we first started this thing, I posted every day. I was so dedicated to making you happy...attending to your every need. I showered you with gifts of wonderfully pathetic, yet hilarious stories. And in return, you left encouraging comments and showed empathy to my plight. We have been through so much together. There's been a lot of excitement, some great (and sometimes awkward) sex, and all the usual ups and downs.

I feel like I have been distant lately. I'm not showing you the attention you deserve. Sometimes I want to post, but I'm distracted with other things. And sometimes, I just avoid you completely. It's nothing you did. You've been a great group of readers. Really. It's not you; it's me. 

So, it is with great bitter-sweetness that I say, I'm breaking up with you...my readers.

I'm just going to be honest, because you deserve that. There's someone else. Most nights when I should be home thinking of you, I'm out doing fun activities with him. You deserve so much better than what I can give you right now. You don't really want to hear about the awesome birthday present I got, or how cute it is that we both got each other eight Hanukkah presents in honor of his first celebration of this holiday...do you? I didn't think so. 

I might come back to you one day. Maybe I'm making a mistake, but I just have to follow my heart right now. I hope you understand.

I'll always cherish our memories together over the last five months. Our relationship was short, but passionate. I hope we can still be friends.

Take care,

Lindsay

I am 28 years old.

On Monday, I turned 28.

When I was little, I thought this was the age for magic. I thought I'd be starring on Broadway, drive a Thunderbird, and I would marry my dream guy.

Some things haven't changed since I was a little girl. I still love Kraft Macaroni and Cheese. I still organize obsessively. I still sing and dance around my house.

But some things shifted with age. The Thunderbird was discontinued in 2005. I nixed my Broadway aspirations shortly after entering college. And I'm a long way from marriage.

But I can't complain. Life is good. 

Since starting my online dating shenanigans in March, I've gone on 16 first dates.

I've gone on four second dates.

I started and ended two pseudo-relationships.

And now I'm happy to say, I'm starting a third. Do you believe in the power of three? Maybe it's just the sorority girl in me, but I do.

I'm feeling good about turning 28. I still get carded everywhere I go. I have a great set of family and friends. I love my job. I have a dog that mostly loves me unconditionally. I'm (hopefully) about to get a new car. And I started a new romance...

Here's hoping the world doesn't end!

And, I'll give you one guess who this card is from...

All the women who independent! Throw your hands up at me!

I've been single for a while now. 

Well, I've been officially single for about a year. And since I spent all of 2011 in a long-distance relationship, my independence was never affected. When I have a flat tire, I call AAA (or Pinata). When I go to the grocery store, I manage to carry all six of my grocery bags to the house all by myself in one trip. Yes, six bags of groceries for one person. Don't judge me. When I need to reach something on the top shelf, I climb. When I need to open a jar that's really stuck...I swear like a truck driver and bang it on the counter until it opens! "You're mine...bitch!"

Where am I going with this? Well, I've just noticed now that I kind of have someone I can depend on, my inner "independent woman" is resisting a little bit:

Ron Swanson, noticing me climbing on a chair to reach a mixing bowl...trying to balance on my tiptoes: "Need some help?"

No.

Ron Swanson, watching me try to carry my purse, heavy coat, scarf, suitcase, and shopping bag to the car: "Can I carry something?"

No. I got it.

Ron Swanson, listening to me scream about the mouse that's been terrorizing my bedroom lately: "Do you want me to come help you, or do you want to just come over here?"

No. I'll handle it.

I bet Beyoncé carries her own bag.

The F Word

My posts may have slowed their pace, but my "relationship" with Ron Swanson has been speeding up. Within a mere month of dating, he's met my family and we've been introduced to each other's group of friends. 

And then he said the F word: FUTURE.

To be specific, "I'm excited for our future."

While I am very happy with how things are going, I couldn't help but hear Squints' voice from The Sandlot saying...

I guess it's been a while since this single girl thought about what life would be like as a not-so-single girl.

Boys Dumb. Girls Crazy.

Are girls more observant than guys?
I'm starting to think so.

A large portion of my relationships ended because I "observed" more carefully than the guy expected...

The worst example was when The Playboy and I had a wonderful night together celebrating the holidays, but then I went to use his restroom and saw a pile of bobby pins and fake eyelashes on the counter. I mean, really? He couldn't bother to clean up after another girl who spent the night... right after he promised me he would never see her again?? Sloppy.

Ron Swanson has been pretty perfect by normal standards, but when I went to eat his steak dinner I took a quick look around his bachelor pad. It was totally normal until she appeared...

"Ex-wife" labeled on a box for an external hard drive sitting right on his desk. Her real name was handwritten with little flowers surrounding...

Oh god. How can I not stalk her now? Is she prettier than me? 

I don't know if it's just my experience, but I think guys are not as good at cleaning up after their previous relationships. Hell, I make sure there's no sign of my ex before a new guy comes over. But, it seems I am always very aware of another girl's presence.

Girls are crazy. Guys, just don't leave your trail out in the open.

How to Woo a Guy with Dr. Dre

Ron Swanson asked me on a second date for Friday night. I was anxious to see if there would truly be chemistry...or if my two beers and nerves had been an influence. I let him pick me up. Mostly because I wanted him to see how comically close we live to one another. In LA, that just never happens. When I saw him smiling at the door, I knew it would be okay.

He took me to an adorable Italian restaurant by the Venice pier, decorated with twinkly lights and painted walls to look like we were dining in Italy. Suddenly the waiters passed around song sheets and the whole restaurant lifted their wine glasses to sing, "That's Amore." He sang along (terribly) and I just laughed. We talked about singing, and he told me his go-to karaoke song is "Forgot About Dre." I dropped another piece of silverware. Apparently I really need some lessons in etiquette. 

As we left the bar, he asked me if I wanted to go out where some of his friends were. I was slightly reluctant, but said I was game. We started walking back to the car, but then he took my hand and turned around. "Nevermind them," he said. "I'd rather just continue getting to know you tonight." I'm not sure if he meant that, or if he was also reluctant...but I was happy with the decision. The only problem is, I looked around and we were staring at two of Busy Builder's usual spots. He could definitely be inside. Eh. Oh well. 

We sat on the upper level of the bar and it seemed like this surfer crowd had chosen an array of rap music on the jukebox. And then "Forgot About Dre" came on... I challenged Ron Swanson to rap along, since it IS his karaoke song, but about half way through, I told him I could out-rap him on that one. Hello! It was one of the 9th grade jams for suburban white kids in the valley! After I nailed Eminem's verse, he burst into laughter. "Your coolness factor just went way up!" Obviously.

And that's how Dr. Dre and Eminem got me a third date.

My new favorite game on OKCupid

In case you've been paying attention to my snapshots of dating profiles, I deleted my POF account and decided to explore OKCupid. (And yes I'm still too cheap for the paid sites. If you think I should be on there, you should sponsor my membership.) I grew tired of seeing The Busy Builder's face pop up in my searches, and I don't think I even wrote about the time he messaged me on there recently. Yup. We met on the site, and five months later he went out with his brother and thought it would be funny to message me, "hey baby ;)." Even I know he was on there to show his brother some other girls he was probably talking to. Ugh.

Anyway, I realized that on OKCupid you can search by keyword!

My new favorite game is searching for bands I love and looking for guys who have similar musical interests. No more Weezer please. In my search for guys who also like my favorite band, Local Natives, I came upon a guy whose username has to do with "Ron Swanson."

I decided to write him. Be bold. Geez, I really love Ron Swanson. He understands the simple things in life...like steak.

After a fair bit of banter, Ron Swanson asked to get drinks at a local bar. He quickly changed his mind and invited me to dinner...on Election Day.

Here's hoping Ron Swanson is a Democrat!

Spring Forward, Fall Back

I spent my extra hour...blogging.

The season changed, and my summer romance officially ended. In fact, I closed the door on everyone I'd been in contact with:

The Aussie
The Over-Texter
The Not-So-Tall Guy
The Busy Builder

After I posted my "Takin It Back, Tuesdays" about The Aussie (and he confessed he knew about the blog all along), we decided it's better when we don't have contact with each other. This might be the first time neither one of us has the other's phone number. It's for the best.

The Over-Texter was umm...texting me too much. So I politely told him I was interested. He said ok.

I was a complete dick to the Not-So-Tall Guy. Ugh. I feel so badly about how it all went down, but I pretty much just pulled a disappearing act. I should have told him a long, long time ago that I just didn't have romantical feelings for him.

And now I'll say what many who read this already know...I'd still be seeing The Busy Builder all summer. We started hanging out about once a week, and I started to think the feelings were strong for both of us. But I was wrong. I'd been having all kinds of anxiety, wanting to tell him how I felt. And then he dressed as an online dating profile for Halloween. I put my heart out there, though via text. I wanted to be included in his world, meet his friends, be more than the girl he hung out with out of laziness at the end of a night. I told him I was ready to shut down this blog and delete my dating profile because I only wanted to hang out with him. But he didn't want that. So that's that.

While part of me has been sad, feeling like I did last November when The Aussie and I ended our relationship, the other part feels relieved. I'm too awesome to settle for only a little attention and consideration. Time for a new season!

Just me and this guy again...

I'm dressing as a slutty _____ for Halloween.

I'm a single girl. It's our job to dress like a slutty version of ourselves on Halloween.

Here's a list of some of my slutty costumes (and a large percentage of them have been successful for this single girl, if you know what I mean) in case you need a last minute idea:

• Slutty Pirate aka "Whore of the Caribbean"
• Slutty Little Red Riding Hood
• Slutty Girl Scout aka "Boy Scout"
• Slutty Panda 
• Slutty Mermaid
• Slutty Cookie Monster 
• Miley Cyrus (no slutty required)
• Slutty Cowgirl
• Slutty Minnie Mouse

But my most successful costume (even though I didn't meet anyone that night) would have to be...

Slutty Spelling Bee

Nerdy glasses and cleavage for the win.

Hot N Cold

He Likes Me!

He invites me to dinner.

He Doesn't Like Me.

For the next two weeks he only wants to see me after he's been out drinking.

He Likes Me! 

He invites me over just to hang out, knowing I'm umm...out of commission.

He Doesn't Like Me.

....then jokes that I'll owe him.

He Likes Me!

He invites me out on a Saturday night (prime time) to a bar where some of his friends will be.

He Doesn't Like Me.

"Hey, this is my friend Lindsay."

He Likes Me!

Public display of affection.

He Doesn't Like Me.

I think that happened after a few drinks. Doesn't count.

wikipedia

Ugh. I'm living a Katy Perry song. Low point.

Please excuse my lack of enthusiasm.

I got an email after yesterday's post:

"Hey there. Sounds like you're getting pretty jaded with all the online dates. If you aren't feeling the butterflies anymore, maybe you should stop."

That's the third person to tell me I'm "jaded." I hate that stupid word.

jad·ed/ˈjādid/

 

Adjective:

Tired, bored, or lacking enthusiasm, typically after having had too much of something.

I wouldn't label myself as "jaded." Sure, I'm just as tired of being single as the next soon-to-be 28 year-old whose Facebook is filled with engagements, weddings, and pregnancy announcements. But I wouldn't say I've had too much of dating. It hasn't lost its appeal. Love is awesome.

I know what the butterflies feel like, I just don't expect them on a first date with someone I met online. You know that feeling you get when you meet someone interesting out in the real world? It's just not the same with online dating. The first date is more of a test...to see if you want to go on a real life date with them. You just want to be sure they look like what they said they look like, and screen them for the psycho-gene. It's not as organic as real life.

So, please excuse my lack of enthusiasm. My butterflies are still alive; they're just not getting their hopes up too soon.

However, if being "jaded" means I am Mila Kunis in the Aerosmith music video, I'm all in!

The Speed Dater

Another first date.

He seemed nice online. He acted very quickly, suggesting a coffee meet-up. I agreed. I arrived at the local Starbucks right on time. He paid for my pumpkin spice latte. That is possibly the most exciting part of the date. 

The Speed Dater must have prepared a list of questions:

"Tell me about..."

Next topic.

"Tell me about..."

Next topic.

"Tell me about..."

And then he checked his phone. The Speed Dater told me he was starving and needed to go so he could eat dinner. I was home within an hour.

Hmmm. Was it something I said? Think back to topics, Lindsay...Very typical conversations: music, traveling, Israel, work, family.

Maybe The Speed Dater was really hungry. Or maybe he wasn't into me. I won't hold my breath for his call.

Mmmm pumpkin spice latte. 

I'm too competitive.

This is why I don't play sports. I am generally not good at them, and I HATE being bad at them.

Please don't ask me to participate in any of the following activities during a date:

• Mini-golf ~ I will throw my club at you if I don't make it into the clown's mouth.
• Video games ~ Seriously, I hate them. Play on your own time. If I show up at your house and you invite me to sit and play, the date (and our relationship) is officially over.
• Batting cages ~ I will hurt myself...and then you.
• Go Karts ~ I hate driving.
• Trivia ~ I know it's not a sport, but it's still competitive...and I suck. 

The one exception is drunk bowling. It may be a sport, and I may suck at it....but I see you are checking out my ass as I approach the lane. Good boy.

Are you my "Fluffer?"

I'm feeling a need to comment on last week's episode of New Girl.

As I closed the door behind my friend who had gone with me to Olive Garden for the never-ending pasta bowl in honor of the Glee characters' favorite restaurant "Breadsticks," I wondered...

"Are you my Fluffer?"

As any girl from the San Fernando Valley aka Capital of Porn would know, a fluffer keeps the man aroused while he waits for the camera to start rolling. In this particular episode, the boys accuse Nick of being Jess' Emotional Fluffer. She is trying to just have casual sex with her man, while calling on Nick for the boyfriend-y type things like assembling her dresser.

I guess I can kind of relate to this situation. I haven't had a "boyfriend" in a very long time. My last relationship was long distance, so he wasn't exactly there to take me to dinner, tell me what's wrong with my car, or hang things on my wall. I've always counted on my two best guy friends for those kind of things...I frequently bring them as my "plus one" to various work and family events.

I've never really thought that might be unfair to my friend, so oopsies. All the work of being a boyfriend, none of the benefits.

So, Pinata: Thanks for always fixing my car and checking my oil/tires, for taking me to dinner, and for attending any and all events I ask you to! 

P.S. I know you've thought about having sex with me. 

I won't message you back if... #4

...you're looking for a girlfriend for your wife.

I don't want to be your princess. But I do appreciate the recognition that I am one.

Why don't you have a Boyfriend?

Want to make a single person feel even shittier about being alone?
Tell them you don't understand how they are single.

It seems that people of my parents' generation think this will bring comfort. I can't tell you how many times I've heard how awesome I am at family gatherings.

"I can't believe you're single! You're so smart and talented and pretty! Why don't you have a boyfriend?"

That's a very good question. 

I don't know.

How awesome...for you.

I lined up three different first dates. Some people accuse me of doing it for blog material, but truly I am a romantic. I want to fall in love. It just hasn't happened in a while, and I might as well go out and try to meet people. Also, I officially gave up on The Busy Builder. I've gotten a lot of messages from people rooting for that to work out, but the truth is...you can't MAKE someone like you.

I need some distraction, don't you think? And I actually got a little excited about Bachelor #2, a Jewish lawyer who wrote that he was six feet tall, and I actually believed it! We had a nice little phone conversation about a week before our date, and I felt like he and I would get along well.

The day before the date, the details hadn't been decided and my OCD planning anxiety took over. I texted him to see if we were still on. He called me right back. The Amateur seemed very cheery on the phone and then, "So I know we were set to go out tomorrow, but...I MET SOMEONE!"

Oh, ok well cool. Good for you. He went on and on (and on and on) about meeting this great girl, and how he didn't think it was fair to her or me if he went out with me. Amateur. Let's do the math here. We've been talking for approximately 1.5 weeks. That means he met this girl within 10 days...and he's already limiting his options?? Amateur!

I was happy for him, and told him I understood. But he didn't stop there. He proceeded to give me dating advice. He said he didn't have much luck on dating sites. He suggested I go out to some of those singles mixers (the Jewy ones) since apparently that's where he met Miss Perfect. Thanks a lot, pal. 

Welp, I got rejected before he even met me. That's a first.

Takin It Back, Tuesdays #4

The Mormon

I googled Jews in hell...
and Rachel Berry popped up.
I love her.

In honor of it being Rosh Hashanah (Jewish New Year to all the goyim), I decided to write about the first time I realized religion might matter in a relationship. Oddly, The Mormon is the one boyfriend I had that everyone remembers. My family treated him like their own, my friends all met him, and even my family in Chicago remembers "that one guy with the tongue ring." Yes, he was a Mormon with a Metallica tattoo and a tongue ring. I was 19; don't judge me. He worked at Dave & Busters...what do you expect? Note: he still works there, I think. Dodged a bullet!

I'm gonna go right ahead and say that The Mormon didn't come from a family with a strong moral background like I'd always imagined in Mormonism. His mother was an adult convert...after leaving the Hell's Angels. She HATED me because I am Jewish. And because she knew I had a tattoo (two at the time). You can't even imagine how much this would shock me. I mean, I'm a parent's dream girlfriend for their son! It was a constant battle with The Mormon, because he never believed she had it out for me.

One day after The Mormon's mother "treated" him, his twin brother, and me to a Del Taco dinner, she asked me a very strange question.

MM (Mormon Mom): "Are you nervous?"

Me: "...about what?"

MM: "Going to hell when you die."

Me: "Well actually, Jews don't believe in hell. So it's all good!" No that was just in my head. What I really said was, "Umm..what?"

Geez I really hated her. And you know what? Her son wasn't exactly the perfect Mormon role model. He had a tattoo she didn't know about (but he never defended mine). And he definitely didn't follow the whole, 'no sex before marriage thing.' Every time I pass that big ass Mormon temple on Santa Monica Boulevard, I think of how bizarre that relationship was. Where are the nice Jewish boys at??

Happy New Year!

Texts I don't understand

(But I do. Because they're all about sex.)

At 3:00am, "U awake?" ~ Well, now I am. There's just no other reason a guy could want to talk to me right now. And no, I'm not getting out of bed to drive over. My makeup is off; the glasses are on. When will I learn to turn my phone on silent at night? 

"Have a great day!" ~ The Busy Builder can deny this all he wants, but I believe this text message has ulterior motives. It's part 'Don't forget about me,' part 'Yes, I'm still thinking about last night.'

The winky face aka " ;) " ~ I'm to blame for this one. I use it all the time. But I still don't know how I feel about being part of a generation that uses emoticons to flirt. So awkward. This specific winky face comes into play when you text something, and I just reply with the winky face. No words. Just the winky. You know what's up!

"What R U up 2?" ~ Sometimes this happens around 11am. I'm at work. What do you think I'm doing? Sometimes this happens around 4pm on a Sunday. The next thing I know I'm eating ice cream in my backyard with him, wishing I'd shaved my legs that morning.

"Hey" ~ Okay I know what you're thinking. "Hey?" Is no text message safe from a sexual innuendo? But I'm not talking about your normal day to day "Hey" from friends. This happens to me riiiiiiight as I'm getting over a guy. I haven't decided if it's really a sexual reference or just a power play, but it really fucking annoys me. He's bored of the new girl he left me for and decided to browse his phone contacts and take a trip down memory lane. And if he's really lucky, I will respond and he's one step closer to sex. Ugh.

Totally unrelated photo, but check out one of my blog's kitty fans! 

Rookie Mistake

The Writer called me a few days after our first date. The conversation seemed pretty normal until he said, "So there's really no way to say this without it being awkward..."

Apparently he was so intrigued by my blogging efforts, he went home and googled, "Bloggiano's." The most recent post read: CHECK OUT MY NEW BLOG. And he clicked. Oopsies. 

The Writer was very uncomfortable with me writing a dating blog. He asked me not to write about him. Double oopsies. And as he told me he felt like he'd just read my diary, I couldn't help but laugh on the other end of the phone. (I had just posted about bj's.) I expected that to be the end of The Writer but he asked me if I had plans for the following week. Whaaaaaat? You still want to date me? Oh I get it. You read that I might put out on the third date. I told him I wasn't so sure I was comfortable with him reading it...he barely knew me, and probably didn't get my humor in this blog. I suggested we take the weekend and think about what it meant for us, but really I never planned to talk to him again. The next morning, my phone dinged:

Oh. Well, since he's definitely reading this: Sorry I posted about you even though I told you I wouldn't. It was just too good!

Most of you are on here because you clicked a link from my Facebook. Honestly, if a guy wasn't cool with me writing this blog, our relationship probably wouldn't last anyway. Shoutout to all the guys from my list reading this blog and being super mostly cool about it: The Trenchcoat, The Bad Boy, The Playboy, The Busy Builder...

 I'll be more careful what I say on dates in the future. Rookie Mistake.