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

What is a Grouper?

The following story is about a new adventure in dating, "Grouper." Though this is a true story, the names have been changed to protect their identity. Credit for the names goes to my amazing girlfriends. Love you, bebes. 

So I got this call from my friend -- Angela Sexpot -- asking if I'll be her wing for this dating thing called "Grouper." What the hell is a Grouper? I had no idea. Here's the gist...

Girl signs up, and gives some chick access to her Facebook, and they stalk the hell out of her until they find a guy they think she'll want to bone date. They pick a time and place, and set up the arrangements. Girl invites 2 single girlfriends. Boy invites 2 single guys. Everyone pays $20 and meets at the bar for their first point of contact.
Happiness, or awkwardness ensues.

You might be thinking...wait a minute. Did I miss an entry? I thought things were going well with Ron Swanson? This is true. But Angela Sexpot invited me before I had met him. I figured I might as well go, hang out with some of my best friends, and have a good story for the blog. (And yes, Ron Swanson knew I went.)

Angela Sexpot picked me up with Bebe Genuine and we pound a warm-up drink before heading to The Corner Door, a little restaurant bar local to my hood. We got there on time, but the guys were not there yet. The manager instantly recognized that we were a group of three chicks and asked if we were there for the Grouper. We order our first drinks, which are included with the $20 fee. The boys were fifteen minutes late before we started planning if we could use their drinks to get a free second round. And then a group of guys walked in... Bebe Genuine's face dropped. Let's just say, they were not cute. And thankfully, not there for us.

Our groupers walked in shortly after, apologizing for their tardiness. They weren't bad looking, either. Chatty Cathy, their leader, got right in and never stopped talking...both to Angela Sexpot and Bebe Genuine. I was sitting next to Miley Cyrus Hair Guy, a surfer from San Diego. We talked about Australia, since he'd lived there for a while. Across from me sat The Wet Sock. He was cute, but SO boring. The boys suggested we go to another bar for a second round...I was hesitant, but decided to take one for the team and go! It's a Monday! Why not get drunk?

On the way there, us girls decided Bebe Genuine would take Chatty Cathy (who was three years younger than us, by the way. What the hell? He knew our friend's little sister). Angela Sexpot would go for Miley Cyrus Hair Guy, and I would happily entertain The Wet Sock. I had all kinds of crazy girl questions prepped. 

The boys clearly made a plan, too, because once we got there...the lines were drawn. I tried asking The Wet Sock every dumb question I could think of like,
"What's your favorite Madonna song?" But he didn't bite. In fact, he got up from the table and moved to the other side, closer to Angela. Rude! Miley Cyrus Hair Guy gave me a lot of attention...Uh oh. He bought me a beer. I think he even tried to grab my hair. Uh oh. The girls and I agreed that the bar was FULL of hot hipster guys, and we were with none of them. Fail. Eventually we ended the night, and laughed our whole way home.

Moral of the story: I'm sure Grouper is a great idea. Go out with your friends? Score! But I don't think I'm a fan. I don't like the idea of "competing" with my girlfriends...let's see who wants to talk to us! It's kinda odd. The best part of the night was laughing with my girls. And getting free drinks from guys we never had to talk to again. We win!

So, I have this blog...

As Ron Swanson and I started spending more time together, I started to feel like there was an elephant sitting on my chest...

I'm totally lying to him until I tell him about this blog's existence!! I have to tell him!!!!

I consulted my male friends, who all thought it was way too soon to unleash the toxic info. But I did it anyway. If I was going to bring him to meet my family for Thanksgiving, he had to know. I couldn't risk that he found out from someone other than me...

Me: "So, I feel like I need to tell you something..."

Ron: "Uh oh"

Me: "Well...it's just that I've not told you, I'm kind of an avid blogger. I've had a few over the years."

Ron: "About what?"

Me: "I used to write one about working in restaurants, and it was pretty well-liked, but then I quit. And I wanted to start writing again, but I needed something about my current life..."

Ron: "Your sex life?"

Me: "Well, not exactly....but my dating life. I started writing about my experiences with online dating mostly."

Ron: "Have you written about me?"

Me: "Yes. But only good things!"

Ron: "Okay, well that's cool. I get it. It's a creative outlet."

THE END. He didn't ask me anything else! In fact, he didn't even want to read it or know what it's called...which is pretty easy to maintain since he's not on Facebook. And he didn't care if I continued to write about him, so here we are.

That was a little too easy. 

I'm Thankful for...Word Vomit

Soooo...what would you say if I told you that on my third date with Ron Swanson, I invited him to my family's Thanksgiving dinner?

You're so right. I'm fucking insane.

It.just.slipped.out.
WORD VOMIT.

He asked me about my plans, and I told him I was heading to New York for a family trip, leaving on a red eye after Thanksgiving dinner. He offered to drive me to the airport.

"Aw, that's so sweet but I don't want you to have to leave your plans."

"I don't really have any plans...Actually, this is my first year on my own for the holidays."

Oh fuck. That's right. Last year he was married. 

My Jewish instincts kicked in: MUST FEED STRANGERS!

That was a week ago. And now it's here...and we're still hanging out. And he's still game to come, despite me letting him know it would be okay to bail at any time.

So, um...Happy Thanksgiving! Wish me luck.

I'm feeling a little like the turkey the day before Thanksgiving...

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.

Girls love assholes.

Girls (like me) love assholes. Anyone who disagrees...you're wrong. We may grow tired and get over it, but we still love them deep down.

Married Man laughed at my reaction to Ron Swanson. "I love that you can't handle a guy being nice to you." But really what am I supposed to think?? The guy wants to make me dinner. That doesn't happen to me. There must be something wrong with him...obviously. Doesn't he know he's supposed to pressure me into sleeping with him, only to never contact me again?

This is just not normal.

It makes me mad that I'm so surprised by his behavior. Have I completely forgot about what it was like to have someone truly care about me? The Busy Builder isn't pleased with my latest entries. Shocking, I know. Naturally, he's felt a need to respond to my recent entries. He knows I have a weakness for assholes, yet he denies being one. "You made zero effort with me, and that probably made me want it more," I said. "It's more complicated than that," he replied. But I know that means he wishes we could hook up again. I told him I can no longer think about our situation as complicated. That's how I ended up seeing him for so long after he showed complete disregard for my feelings.

No more assholes. It's time for a cleanse. 

And hey, it doesn't hurt that I like hanging out with Ron Swanson. The man makes a nice steak dinner. 

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.

Election Date

It's a little risky to go on a first date on Election Day. I didn't know if Ron Swanson also thought it was odd, but I went for it anyway. But he could be crazy conservative and bring up politics and we could start fighting. Or worse, Romney could win. What's the worst that could happen?

First impression: He's cute. Kinda scruffy (and kinda hairy) with pretty eyes and a big smile. He was wearing a red flannel, perfectly fitting for his Ron Swanson name. He opened the door for me. And then he tested me: "So, this place is beer and wine only." That's ok. I drink beer. (I passed)

We found some seats at one of the communal tables at The Tripel and he took the lead suggesting we split a few things. We have a very similar sense of dorky humor. I tried to remember more details about him, but when I went online to check his profile again before our date (to study) I noticed he deleted his account. Without me asking, he mentioned he's new to the site and got creeped out by some girl he didn't reply to that was checking his profile every day. Sounds about right. But damn....where is he from again? What does he do? How old is he?? Crap.

He's from Florida. When I asked why he moved out here, he said he wanted to work for Pixar...which is interesting since I wanted be a Disney Princess but they stopped making musicals. Lame. Also, he moved out here with a girl....HIS WIFE. His EX-wife. Deep breaths. I am actually okay with a divorcee. As my girl Patti Stanger would say, it's a sign that he's willing to commit. But as my mom would say..."as long as he's ACTUALLY divorced." Good points. 

Half way through the date and I was feeling pretty positive about him. We laughed a lot, and I accidentally flung my fork across the table. Typical. Then President Obama was predicted to be re-elected. I looked at him and asked, "are you happy or sad?" We were both happy. Phew. 

The bill came and he pulled out the credit card, no question. I did not offer to pay. Unfortunately for him, the waitress came back....DECLINED. This is awkward. He used a different card, and I could tell he was embarrassed. We left and he walked me back to the lot. I made him guess which car was mine and he said it would be very weird if I drove a cougar because that was his first car. I think that means I passed that test, too. As we said goodbye, he leaned in and I let him kiss me.

When I got home, he texted me that he had a really great time and wanted to see me again. He also made it a point to mention that his credit card number had been compromised, according to his bank. That's kinda cute. He didn't even realize I stole his identity when he went to the bathroom....muahahaha...just kidding.

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.

Takin It Back, Tuesdays #8

The Co-worker

It was a very fragile time in my life when I began working at a little mom-and-pop restaurant in Newport Beach. First night on the job, I ended up hanging out with a group of my new co-workers and one of them told me I was beautiful and he wanted to marry me. We kissed. He wasn't at all what I was looking for, but I will admit it was convenient.

We had quite the dramatic "relationship." Working together meant fighting about work...WHILE at work...before work, and after work. But somehow we kept finding each other. One moment he would tell me I had saved his life, the next he was throwing a fit because flowers were delivered to me while I worked my Valentine's Day shift (they were from one of my best friends...a girl). Talking to her last weekend, I thought about my time with him. I can't remember most of it. Perhaps I blacked it out because it ended so badly. (I moved to Israel. He stopped talking to me. He moved on after about a week. He got married. He had a baby.) But the greatest blessing from that relationship was the package deal that came out of it: his friends. 

The Co-worker was a transplant. And one by one...his friends moved to Newport, eventually filling a house. My best friend is right: I didn't just date him. I was the house girlfriend. I spent many a night dancing with those boys. I've seen all four of them running around ass-naked (not by choice) and I know whose dick is the biggest. They took care of me, too...but most importantly they knew that when I spent the night, they could probably get a free breakfast the next morning at our favorite local spot.

On this particular morning, I woke up in the house that smelled of surfers, cigarettes, and beer after a night at a lingerie party The Co-worker bartended. I ran around the house, jumping on beds to get the boys to go to breakfast. But since I only had my nighty from the party (covered by The Co-worker's jacket) we needed a pit stop at my place. We piled in the car and started the half-mile commute. The Co-worker thought it would be funny to roll down the windows, blasting his music and honking to wake up sleepy Newport Beach. And right as we pulled into my alley, a cop turned on her sirens. I died. The cop would surely see my outfit was only underwear. She came to the window and could immediately smell the alcohol from the night before. The Co-worker took a DUI test. The roommates and I couldn't help but giggle. The situation couldn't have been more awkward until...on the patio above our car, a dog started taking a massive shit. The Co-worker barely passed the test, and we made it safely to the restaurant. After such a hilariously typical event, I offered to buy breakfast for the group.

He ordered two meals. Then puked in the parking lot. 
...Did I mention he's married now? And has a baby?

Good times. Love those boys.

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. 

Takin It Back, Tuesdays #6

International Lover

I guess I have a bit of a wild side. If you've been following along for the last two months, you probably already figured that out. A few years ago I gave up everything I knew to move temporarily to Israel...Tel Aviv to be exact. After a series of failed relationships with men who didn't love me the way I deserve, I made a promise to myself to just enjoy my time there without the complications of dating. I was quickly tempted to break that promise within the first week. He was a bartender at the local bar. Typical. 

A male Israeli friend taught me one of my first phrases in Hebrew on our way out. It translated to "I want to f*ck you tonight." Beautiful, right? My friends and I found it to be hilarious and naturally, I had to try it out.

After a few Goldstar beers, I leaned over the bar and called my International Lover over to me. I put my lips to his ear and recited my new phrase. He leaned back. "Do you know what you have just said?" 

Mmm hmm.

I tried to get him to kiss me. He shook his head.

"I will not kiss you in my bar. But I will make you this offer to come home and sleep with me."

Oh how I enjoy the blunt nature of an Israeli man. I instantly chickened out.

"Ummm no thank you?"

I'm all talk...in Hebrew.

Um, I think I know you.

Oh boy. This was bound to happen.

I got a message today that was actually pretty clever, and I almost responded. But then I took a closer look and...
Uh oh. I know him.

At first I thought, well maybe I should respond? Maybe it's some weird sign that we should have hung out in college. Should I tell him I know who he is? Nope. It's just too weird. Ignore. 

And just like that I remember that online dating isn't exactly anonymous. I wonder how many more people I know are out there!

Ps. I totally went and creeped on him on Facebook after. Anyone would do that...right?

Takin It Back, Tuesdays #5

The Aussie

Exactly one year ago, The Aussie came to visit me in Los Angeles after nine months of long distance dating and a lot of Skype. I had just moved into the apartment that would be his home in less than six months, and couldn't wait to show him my city. The trip didn't go as well as I had planned. [Understatement] I thought about writing about how he fucked it up, but instead I would like to share the story of my 'Crazy Girl' moment while he was here. 

I planned the most fun-filled two week trip for The Aussie's stay in LA. What? Me overplan? Never! What? Make a calendar of all the places we'd go and see? That's not like me at ALL! On this particular day, we were set to go to Malibu. We got all dressed and ready and went down to my garage. My car wouldn't start. I panicked. Why isn't it starting?? C'mon little cougar! Naturally, there is always something wrong with the cougar. This time it was the battery.

But instead of playing it cool, I had a total meltdown. In front of man who had only spent 12 days physically in my company...ever.

"Why is there always something wrong with this fucking car?? I never get a break! This isn't how today was supposed to go!! How are we going to get anywhere while you're here?? The car rental place isn't even open today! Ahhh [insert Crazy Girl crying sesh] I hate my life! I just wanted to have a nice trip...OMG you must think I'm so crazy! Look at me total freaking out in front of you. You're never going to want to be with me after this. [more crying] I totally ruined this day!!!"

And then AAA came and changed my battery. And we went to Malibu. And this is not why we broke up.

I'm sorry for being so mean to you, little cougar. I still love you.

But not The Aussie. 

Guys with Accents

I'm such a sucker. Aren't we all?

But after my first date with The Southern Gentleman, I'm not sure I can date a guy with one...again. Maybe it's an actor thing, but whenever I'm around someone with an accent I start taking it on. I'm a chameleon! 

The longer I sat with him, the harder it was for me to stop myself from saying "ya'll." Bad enough that I just returned from a visit with my family in Chicago. My accent is so confused! I don't know who I am anymore!

Sorry, Southern Gentleman. It's not going to work out. Also, I would have expected a man from North Carolina to open doors and walk me to my car. And not be 10 minutes late. 

photo courtesy of zazzle.com

The Girl with One Eye

I woke up from a very drunken Saturday night with my makeup still on. Fuck. And why can't I see properly?? I'm missing a contact. Seriously, Lindsay? Get your shit together. I stumbled into my bathroom and reached in the box where I keep my contact lenses. Empty.

Ever since The TJ's Guy told me my glasses were funny, I haven't worn them in public.
More importantly, I had a date that night. I definitely couldn't wear my glasses on the date, so I grabbed my prescription and ran to Lenscrafters. You've never seen a more sad face than the one I gave the salesclerk when he told my contacts were "special order only."

I nearly cancelled my date, but I knew it would come off as a super lame excuse. So I did what any girl would do: I drove to the date with my glasses on, parked my car, changed into my ONE contact, and went to my date.
...What? Normal girls don't do shit like that? I don't believe you.

The Writer was a nice, Jewish guy. I didn't feel any chemistry between us, but I still had a good time. Even with one blurry eye. He moved to LA to make it in the entertainment industry, which is generally a turnoff for me. We talked about writing and I mentioned how much I love it, but that I've only dabbled in blogging. I even told him I used to blog about restaurant life. At the end of the date, I knew he was interested. He asked about a second date, and I didn't say no. I figured I could give it a second chance. I walked to my car, put on my glasses, and drove home.

Little did I know the HUGE mistake I'd made...

Takin It Back, Tuesdays #3

The TJ's Guy

I created two dating rules for myself after The TJ's Guy:

1. Never date anyone who lives walking distance from your home. 
2. Never date anyone who works at your local grocery store, unless you are okay with driving further to get food when it all crashes down.

It was like fate kept bringing us together. I worked with The TJ's Guy in 2005. In 2008, he showed up as the "wingman" for a date I went on. The next morning, he showed up at brunch as my neighbor's high school friend. We really hit it off, but nothing came of it and soon after...I moved away from Newport Beach. 

In 2010, we were reunited at Tr@der Joe's, his place of work. I was hiding from The Playboy's ex-gf who hates me when I saw his cute little hipster glasses. Nothing is better than having the girl your ex dumped you for watch you get your flirt on with a super hot guy...even if he is a grocery store manager. 

The next day I received a Facebook message from The TJ's Guy. I saw he was "in a relationship" and was a little bummed. But being we were neighbors, he invited himself over to catch up. Don't worry, it was very friendly. Shortly after, he notified me that he was no longer with his girlfriend, and invited himself over again. I don't remember if it was even summer, but we spent a lot of days together laying by my pool listening to music and drinking wine he brought home from work. I'd say he's responsible for my love of hipster music. And maybe hipsters in general. He had a ridiculously hot body.

A lot of weird shit happened in my time with The TJ's Guy, and this post would be way too long if I described it all. But you should know (and sorry, mom, I know you think this is x-rated), The TJ's Guy was a sexaholic. And I got a lot of rugburns. And he was also a compulsive liar (he never broke up with his girlfriend). One night he texted me to pick him up from a bar and when I declined, he took a cab to my apartment and hopped the fence. He banged on my door at 1am, waking up my roommate and our dogs. Then he freaked out that my dog was "watching us." After that, I had to start driving 15 minutes away to get groceries.

Since he is the ONLY man I truly hate, I'm going to disclose that he had the weirdest penis I've ever seen. I'm not exaggerating when I say it SEVERELY curved to the left...even when hard.

When he'd climax, he would announce: "Ya never know where it's gonna go!" and become surprised when his load shot to the left on his sheets. I know! I know! It's going to go to the fucking LEFT! One time I even reached out and caught it. A friend of mine and I named that "The Reverse Spiderman." Think about it.

I sort of want to email him this post. Hey there, TJ's Guy! Remember all the photos you texted me of your crooked penis? I showed them to ALL my friends!

I deleted you.

I'm somewhat notorious for a drunk text or two...or ten. Whatever. If a guy is on my good side, most likely a late night text will mean he's getting lucky. If he's on my bad side, better watch out.

See I'm the "cool girl" who will never start fights when I first start dating a guy. But if he's fucked up a few times, I unleash the bitch on him when drunk. All that anger just builds up and coupled with whiskey, it's a recipe for disaster. Just ask one of my best male friends who received a text from me after a fight that read:
LOSE MY NUMBER.

The Busy Builder had it coming. On the eve of my best friend's wedding, I decided to delete his phone number to prevent drunk texts ruining my weekend...it's about her, not him. He'd already lost privilege of having his name saved in my phone; I only save numbers of people I'm sure will be around for awhile. But on Friday as I sat getting my nails done with the girls, my phone dinged. Noooooo! I tried to ignore. The rehearsal dinner got started, and it turned into a complete debauchery. If you knew my friends, you'd understand. The groom bought us shots of patron and it all went downhill from there. He texted me, and I responded:

Me: You're annoying.

BB: What?

Me: I deleted you.

BB: What? On your phone?

Me: Yes. If you don't like me or want to date me, don't bother texting me.

BB: Just cuz we aren't meant to be doesn't mean I don't like you or want to hang out. There's a difference.

...and then I passed out.

His text made absolutely no sense to me. But of course this dumb girl texted him the next morning and the rest of the weekend. And then I jokingly asked him to bring me ice cream on Sunday as I sat in my hot backyard, totally hungover.

Knock knock.