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!

Thanksgiving Rules for My Mother

A lot of you reading this blog might think it's strange that its #1 fan is none other than...my mother. Yes, I admit it's a little strange to have her reading the details of my sex dating life, but we have a close relationship (and I would probably tell her most of this stuff whether she wanted to hear it or not).

When I accidentally invited Ron Swanson to Thanksgiving Dinner wayyyy too soon in our courtship, I told my mom the news. I'm sure she was more than thrilled -- typical Jewish mother behavior.

Before "the big day," I gave her THREE important rules for meeting Ron Swanson:

1. Under NO circumstances may you refer to him/introduce him as my boyfriend. He's not my boyfriend. He's not my friend. He has no label. His name is "Ron Swanson."
2. No awkward posed photos. Mom, can we both agree you kind of broke that one??
3. No references to my blog. I'd already told him about it, but there's just no need to make things more awkward. Imagine walking into a room full of people who already know allllllll about you...

As I went through the rules with my mom, she laughed as she remembered a very similar conversation we had when she planned to chaperone my 5th grade dance. She said I gave her an index card with very similar restrictions. Little did I know, it's been sitting in her nightstand for the last 17 years...

I was nervous as I sat in the car before heading into my mom's house with my newest suitor. But I was reassured by the calm of Ron Swanson. The night went off without a hitch, and I think he passed the family test. And more importantly, my family behaved themselves. And he still wanted to continue hanging out after we left!

I'm thankful for how pleasant it all turned out. And I'm also thankful for my mother. Moms are the best. xoxo

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.

Happy 30,000 Views!

Sorry, but today's post is not about my usually pathetic (yet laughable) dating life. Today I honor you: my readers. How can I do that? Well, I'd like to share one of my favorite parts of the backside of blogging. Traffic sources. 

I LOVE statistics! (Math nerd alert)

I google searched "math nerd" and found this

I get pleasure out of reading that my dating profile has been read 660 times, and that two people in Malaysia are reading my blog RIGHT NOW.

But the best part is knowing what people were "google searching" when they landed on my page...

Here are my favorites:

1. can you see your own cervix?
2. severely crooked penis
3. men don't get cherry tattoos
4. do I know you
5. drunk bowling
6. UR CUTE
7. crying girlfriend meme
8. she cock blocked me
9. lady parts fail
10. is he really being or blowing me off?

Thank you, readers. You fucking rock. 

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.

The Worst Second Date

A couple days after my date with The Speed Dater, he texted to say he had a great time and wanted to see me again. This took two weeks to happen, due to his work schedule. Just what I need...another workaholic.

He met me at Westside Tavern after for dinner and a movie on Saturday night. Unfortunately, the movie was sold out so he bought us tickets to see Perks of Being a Wallflower. We had FOUR HOURS to kill before it started. So he suggested we go across the street to Gyu-Kaku instead. The wait was a little long, so we walked next door to The Wellsbourne for a drink. Oh great. This just turned into the same date I took The Busy Builder on for our fourth date. We went up to the bar and he ordered...a DIET COKE. Wait, what?

Five minutes later, I changed his name to Dick Downer.
Things that Dick Downer is allergic to:

• cats
• dust
• ALCOHOL
• sun
• happiness
• fun

"But you can order a drink," he said. That's okay. If I wanted to drink alone, I'd be in my pj's watching SNL. We walked into the restaurant and he panicked: "Does it seem safe to eat here? It looks dirty." Ummm...I laughed. I thought he was joking. He ordered for us without even asking me what I like, then dismissed himself to go wash his hands. [First text to friends: "Oh god. He doesn't drink."] He came back traumatized. "The bathroom is right next to the kitchen...and I don't think they're very careful about all that raw meat." He proceeded to wipe down our table. I laughed, uncomfortably.

Over the next four hours, I learned a lot about Dick Downer. 

Things that Dick Downer hates:

• germs
• bars that have live music 
• spending money
• his job
• his co-workers
• Chrismas music
• Republicans (yup, he talked politics on a second date)
• costumes
• his high school friends

This guy probably hates blowjobs and rainbows, too...

We finally made it over to the movie theater, and I snuck away to the bathroom. [Second text to sister: "Wish I was with you. This date is bleh."] The moment we sat down, he lifted the armrest and reached for my hand. Interesting, since we had no prior physical contact. The movie started and well...it isn't exactly a romantic comedy. I won't spoil it, but you shouldn't see this film on a date. When the plot turned, he pulled his hand away. After the movie, Dick Downer added something to the list of things he hates: 

• Perks of Being a Wallflower

He complained about its lack of originality, then complained about the $8 parking fee, and then complained about the parking garage. Just when I felt relieved to make it back to my car, he surprise-attacked my face. HE ATE MY FACE. And just like that, he was gone...and I wiped the saliva off my face and raced home. 

This is why first dates should last longer than thirty minutes...

Fortune Cookie Fail

Sometimes when I'm hungover and slightly depressed about my love life, I head for Panda Express.  I can't help it. I find orange chicken comforting.

You may have noticed I was not posting as frequently as I usually do, and it's because a lot has been going on..things I would love to write about, but would hate to be ridiculed for. Maybe it's the change in season, but I've been getting a little antsy, feeling a need to make some changes to my personal life. I need some advice!

So there I was, finishing up my fried rice, when I thought..."Hey Lindsay, maybe your fortune cookie will help you decide what to do!"

Did Panda Express just call me fat? Fuck off.

C-block strikes again!

Guy with dog = chick magnet
Girl with dog = red flag
Girl with dog wearing a cone = cock block

I think my dog wants me to be alone forever. Instead of being cool and playing catch or wrestling with potential suitors, he's crying in the corner because his leg itches and now he's wearing a cone.

I might as well be wearing the cone myself.
I couldn't sleep because I could hear him sitting on his dog bed whining.
After feeling me tossing and turning, the guy finally says, "Just let him up. It's fine."

...And then we had a dog barrier laying between us.

Fail.

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.

Taking It Back, Tuesdays #9

I think this is the last post of this series, unless I can think of more stories that won't get me in trouble for sharing... I'm running out of exes! (Thank goodness.)

The Not-So-Virginal Virgin

I had two boyfriends in my high school years, and this one was the second. He was older. And by older I mean one whole grade older -- which made him SO much cooler than me (at least that's what he made me think). This is the story of how he helped spread a false rumor that I had gonorrhea in high school.

Mid-way through my junior year of high school, when I was dating The Not-So-Virginal Virgin, I contracted mono. I got horribly sick and had no idea why my throat was so sore, so I went to the doctor. She examined my throat and saw the infection taking over. She asked, "Are you sexually active?" Considering my boyfriend was a virgin, I was confused by this question.

Are we talking about BEFORE I started dating him? The Not-So-Virginal Virgin considered me something of a slut for having slept with one person. He was waiting for marriage. Or are we talking about the hand and mouth stuff that "virgins" are totally cool with? Apparently, if you give head to a guy who has gonorrhea, you can get the infection inside your mouth. Geez, that is fucking disgusting and so NOT what I had. But I made the mistake of telling my boyfriend what she said.

He was not pleased with the test results showing I had mono, either. "How could you get mono if I don't have it?" The stupid "kissing disease" can be passed around in lots of ways, asshole. I'm not a cheater. Anyway, I felt like absolute crap...and he made it worse. He dumped me.

He said he couldn't risk getting sick because of his "volleyball career."

So I was completely sick for a month, my boyfriend broke up with me and went to prom with someone else, and my other high school ex (The Bad Boy) called to make sure I didn't have gonorrhea....a rumor he heard at school in my absence. Awesome. Junior year was a great year.

FYI, The Not-So-Virginal Virgin boned his next girlfriend. His punishment for having sex before marriage? She hated sex. Sucks for him.

The Over-Texter

Remember Sarcastic Profile Guy from Monday's post? I gave him my number.

BIG MISTAKE.

I know he thinks it's the girls who are totally crazy, but I think it might be him. He's texting me WAY too much. It's annoying. There has to be balance, people!

There are so many things that are wrong about this "conversation." 

• The first text was at 9:45am, fifteen minutes after I got to work. Too early to text if I don't really know you.
• "Good to meet up tomorrow?" is NOT asking a girl out on a first date. That's why I didn't reply.
• But he didn't give up. 10am is a little better than 9:45am.
• Yup, I still didn't reply.

This is why he's 34 and single. 

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!

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.

Zombies are not a turn on.

I remember, as a teenager, thinking that scary movies were great with a boy. I can get all scared, and he can have an excuse to hold me...it's perfect! Now that I'm a bit older, I'm not so sure where this appeal comes from.

This guy and I were hanging out one night, and he suggested we start watching The Walking Dead. A TV show about Zombies? Um, ok...I did hear it's pretty good. We started the very first episode, and I could barely hear any sound. I knew something bad was going to happen. It's about fucking Zombies! [Wait, no. It's not about fucking zombies. It's about THE fucking zombies. Ew.]

Anyway, I'm already scared and thinking this is the perfect time for cuddling up in his arms, but then it started getting gore-y. Oh gross, these zombies are so disgusting!

He started touching my neck, playing with hair, clearly trying to distract me. He was smiling, but my face was frozen. My body was so confused! Should I get turned on? His kisses felt so good...
But OH MY GOD that woman has only half a body and she's crawling around trying to eat people! C'mon!!!

I'm not sure if this guy is:
a) turned on by zombies
b) wanted me to associate sex with gross half-dead people
c) thinks it's funny to fuck with me

Let's go with option c. 

Takin It Back, Tuesdays #7

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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.

Grocery Guy

It's no secret that the grocery store is a common place to check out, and potentially hit on, attractive people. While I cannot recommend dating someone who works at a grocery store, I will say I enjoy being approached while doing my shopping. I really need to learn to dress a little cuter when I go...I'm always wondering why guys approach me when I'm in sweats, no makeup, and yesterday's hair.

I ran in for a quick little trip to my local store, and while wandering in one of the aisles when I heard a friend, "Hello." I barely had time to look up and say hi back before he was on his way down the aisle. It didn't hit me until a few seconds later that he was just some random guy talking to me...and he was really cute!

I managed to see him again on my way out. I got in the same line. When he finished check out, he simply looked up, smiled, and went on his way.

WTF? We totally had a moment!