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...

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. 

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. 

Chivalry is NOT dead.

Over the years, a lot of people have urged me not date guys from Los Angeles. Actually, people said the same thing about Orange County guys when I lived in Newport. They're all Peter Pan types, who aren't interested in getting in serious relationships and blah blah blah. I tuned it out. Because what else was I supposed to do?

Transplants must be where it's at. Ron Swanson is from Florida, but he's lived in LA for a few years. It's a good blend of southern manners with LA style. I'll admit I have been a little thrown off and weary of his gentleman-like nature. It's been a long time since I dated someone who...

• Opens doors and pulls out chairs
• Always asks if I'm warm enough, and offers his coat
• Compliments genuinely and often...but not too often.
• ...And listens.

On our first date, Ron Swanson asked my favorite type of food. I love Asian cuisine, but told him that even though I spent years slinging pasta, Italian food will always be most comforting. He listened and took me to an Italian restaurant on our second date. 

I'm here to announce: Chivalry is NOT dead. 

The "that didn't suck so let's do it again" Kiss

First dates are hard. You just never know what's going to happen. But if you're lucky and it goes well, I think there should be a first kiss involved.

I was thinking about my recent first kisses. It's funny how in all the movies, the guy is walking her up to her door when the magical first kiss moment happens. But with online dating, I can't show him where I live too soon, so all my first kisses happen outside my car...in some romantical parking lot.

Unlike my traumatic surprise-attack from Dick Downer, my first kiss with Ron Swanson was pretty good. After a couple easy kisses we both pulled back...

But then he pulled me back in for the real deal. It's like you have to test out if it's horrible or pleasant, and THEN decide if you should really put forth some real effort.

Sometimes I love being a girl. Happy 3-day weekend to my single peeps...and the not single ones, too (I guess). 

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!

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.

Ten People I Envy

...right now.
***Warning: This post was written under the influence of wine.***

1. The girl who just posted a photo of the bouquet of flowers her boyfriend got her "just because."
2. The guy who is taking his new girlfriend on vacation next weekend...and posting about it publicly on Facebook.
3. The girl who is out on Friday night with five of her hot, single girlfriends meeting a ton of cute guys and not caring what comes of it.
4. The adorable hipster couple that sat in front of me at The xx concert, cuddled up in blankets drinking wine together.
5. My dog. Asshole sleeps all day and then I come home because it's the responsible thing to do...and he ignores me because my roommate has chicken.
6. My ex's girlfriend that I stalk on instagram who just posted a photo of them celebrating their two-year anniversary.
7. My roommate who is in her late thirties and doesn't seem to give a shit that she's single. She owns a house.
8. The guys who can have sex with a girl for months and not feel emotionally attached. Because I just can't do that.
9. My friends that made a career out of singing, dancing, and/or acting. I'm a quitter.
10. Hot girls. Damn you.

At least I have this incriminating photo of
Oliver and the Big Dick Bunny

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.

Takin It Back, Tuesdays #7

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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.

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. 

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!

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.

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!

Takin It Back, Tuesdays #2

The Sweaty Guy

One college summer, I lived on campus while taking summer session. It was the perfect scenario:

9am-noon: School
12:30-3pm: Pool
5-10pm: Work
10:30pm: Try to catch up to my roommate, who lined up the number of shots she'd already taken while she waited for me to get home.

Rinse and repeat.

I was lounging by the pool when a friend introduced me to a six pack. Okay, I'm pretty sure there was a face and body attached to the six pack, but I swear I only saw abs. He was hot. A transfer to our school to join a sports team. I flirted my way into him getting my number, and then I flirted my way into a summer fling. He was interesting, smart, and very worldly...but there was just one thing: he was REALLY sweaty. I'm not one to judge, since I have a very efficient cooling system myself, but The Sweaty Guy wore a wristband to soak up his mess. At first I didn't mind it because sometimes he'd lift his shirt up to wipe sweat from his brow and I'd get a peek at those abs.

My roommate always knew when The Sweaty Guy was spending the night; I'd turn the air conditioning down to 68 degrees. One night I reached the breaking point. He was on top of me and the sweat fell onto my face. Ew.

"Hey baby...let's move to the shower. What do you think?"
No guy turns down shower sex. This is a fact.

He never knew my true intentions. [Insert evil laugh] Sorry Sweaty Guy! 

Interview with a Married Man

I've mentioned before that my dating mentor happens to be a guy...one I've known for seven years now. Geez, Married Man, you're fucking old. We became friends through one of my lovely exes, and I even watched as he became Mr. Married Man. I'm still not sure how he got Mrs. Married Man to say "I do"...But he's a great combo of asshole and gentleman. I've gotten a few dating questions from readers since starting this blog, and my response is always, 

"Are you reading this thing? I'm terrible at dating!" Naturally, I looked to Married Man for guidance. Here is how it went:

Lindsay: Okay, I'm going on a lot of first dates...What’s the worst thing a girl can do on a first date?
MM: For a girl, it’s being too aggressive. If you’re trying to impress a guy, the best way to find a good guy is to force him to slow down.  If it’s the right guy, he’ll take the time to wait.  Also, stay away from any kind of conversation about sex or anything sexual.  But, but, but...
You want to attract the guy and give him some slight touches throughout the night to let him know you’re interested, but don’t go too far.

What’s the best thing?
For a guy, I’m a firm believer that doing the chivalrous things (opening doors, paying for the food, offering to give her a ride home, etc) are usually the best. Also, make sure you actually listen to what the girl is saying.  It sounds easy to do, but so many people do it wrong. The better you really listen to her, the better off you’ll be. For girls, listening to what the guy says and acting engaged in what he says will always help. I’d also say (and this kind of goes against what I just said), giving a guy a challenge gets to the heart of most guys. We think we are pretty awesome, so if you listen but don’t act like we're the greatest thing since sliced bread or give into requests for physical contact on the first date, most guys will be at least interested. Ugh it's so confusing.

How many guys can a girl date at once, and for how long?
That really just depends on the girl. When I was single, I could rarely date more than one girl at a time and if I did, the girls always knew that I was. Generally, one person starts to win out and becomes preferred unless it’s just about sex. Guys HATE being unimportant, so a girl will probably be less successful at dating multiple people. But imagine with online dating, it takes a little longer to know if you really like someone. Yeah, well I'd still say you have about a month from your first face-to-face meeting to figure it out.

I try really hard not to be a crazy girl. Who do you think are crazier in relationships? Girls or guys?
Girls are definitely crazier because nearly everything holds meaning to you. I once heard relationships described as one person chasing the other at one point or another. Not so much physically chasing, but in their mind thinking that they need to do more to impress the other. The person that is doing the chasing is nearly always the person that is crazier. That, to me, is huge in every relationship because the moment neither one is chasing the other is the moment that a lot of the passion disappears. I think the only relationships that ever become official for me, resulted because I was the one being chased. I'm a bad hunter.

So, how do you get past the casual dating to being boyfriend/girlfriend without scaring someone off?
With a lot of the girls I dated, we never became “official” until a good six months into dating because I’m not all that comfortable with titles. Really I just think its a conversation to have after a decent amount of time dating (at least a month).

And how do you feel about being Facebook Official?
I think being Facebook official is stupid. It makes no difference what your Facebook says as long as you know. If you’re posting to each other’s wall and having fun that way, everyone already knows. They’re stalking you, too...remember? Making it Facebook official just adds an extra level of pressure that most of us don’t need anyways. That's why I'm engaged to a girl on there! However, if you’re getting married, I’d say change your status IMMEDIATELY!

I feel like there is still a double standard for girls in the dating world... Am I a slut?
I don’t believe in the double standard, but overall women are expected to be “less experienced” than the guys that they are with. But I’m wondering, “Who are the guys having sex with if girls aren’t supposed to have sex??” To me, it’s all about doing what makes you feel comfortable. I do believe that there are times when we can get too focused on sex and need to pull back to really focus on what we want in someone.

If you went on a date with me and then later found out about Every Single Day, would you still like me?
A blog shouldn’t make any self respecting guy stop dating a girl. You’re not using names, just your own personal descriptions of the guys. Any guy scared of that needs to grow a pair, man up and start behaving.

What kind of guy would you like to see me date?
A guy who is mature and willing to put you first. Don’t waste time with someone who won’t put you first. Easier said than done! I always think that's temporary. There are tons of good guys out there; you’re just looking in the wrong places. Stop going to bars to meet guys. I was one of those guys, and none of them were looking for their future wife.

How did you know Mrs. Married Man was “the one?”
I don’t remember the actual moment, but I just remember sitting there one day driving over to her place and thought to myself, this is the girl I’m going to marry. She didn’t know it yet, but I definitely did. Her moment came a couple weeks later when I was helping her make up her bed. Sometimes its those weird little innocuous things that change someone’s mind and move someone to that “one” level.

Any parting advice for the single guys out there reading my blog?
Treat every girl like you would treat your mom. Value her opinion the way you would your mom. Listen to her the way you would your mom. Open the door and take care of her the way you would your mom. Not every girl will cherish it the same way, but it’ll help you move your way through the wrong girls quicker.

Takin It Back, Tuesdays

The Cherry Guy

That's right. All you boys on that list better start sweating. I've decided to start a weekly post highlighting some of my fondest dating memories.

I was getting my hair done at one of those fancy DryBar locations the other day, when I noticed the pair of cherries tattooed on my male hairdresser's forearm. "Hey! I have that same tattoo...but in a much more ridiculous location!" He, being gay, thought it was adorable. It brought me back to 2010...when I moved back home with my parents and started working at Bloggiano's. After finishing my training, I was on a mission for extreme drunkenness and hot guys. Where did we go? A douchey LA sports bar...Actually I think it's even #9 on this list of douchiest LA bars. Perfect. 

Whilst drowning my "I'm living at home...again" sorrows in vodka soda, a girlfriend and I stepped outside for some fresh air and started talking to a pair of guys having a smoke break. To be honest, it was really dark so I wasn't sure if he was hot. But he was definitely a tall, bearded hipster who told me instantly that he's always wanted to marry a little Jewish girl. Swoon.

He had noticed the tattoo peeking out of my top on my ribs and stated his general lack of interest in tattoos. "They're stupid. That's why I got the dumbest one I could think of," he said. He lifted his shirt just enough to show the lack of muscles developed from his vegetarian diet, and pulled down the side of his jeans just slightly, revealing a pair of cherries on his left hip.

Holy fuck. I have the same tattoo. And not just "Hey, we both have a pair of cherries so that's funny" kind of tattoos...they were mirroring each other as we stood face-to-face. Was it fate that he had the same tattoo my family and friends make fun of me for getting when I was 18 and feeling rebellious? Maybe...We ended up chatting the rest of the night and he asked to kiss me. Sure. He even went so far as to ask if he could take me to dinner the next night. Why not?

The Cherry Guy took me on a few dates Downtown...and impressed me with his bachelor pad loft. One too many games of Dirty Jenga (you don't want to know) and I was telling myself he was probably not boyfriend material. The man was holding onto a pair of leopard speedos from his glory days in college...ten years prior. When he asked me why I wouldn't have sex with him, I told him I was looking for a relationship. He was looking for a girl he could meet up with at the end of the night. No thanks!

I guess cherry tattoos are a tramp-stamp for guys, too. 

The EX Games

I got wrapped up in my "I think I'm getting close to having a boyfriend" thoughts. This led to an event I am really not proud of, but I'm going to own up to it. And if The Busy Builder reads this, it will be the first he's heard of it...

Or rather, the Ex Games...

Against my better judgement, I was still in contact with The Aussie. He surprised me with a trip he planned to Los Angeles since he had an Aussie football tournament in San Diego. When he told me he would stay in a hostel and find his way around, my soft spot for him suggested he stay in the guest room at my house (with no funny business). I instantly regretted my offer, but it was already out there, and he accepted. Subsequently, he went on a mission to make the trip about winning me back:

• He bought me tickets to see the X games on Friday and Saturday 
• He bought us tickets to the Dodger game on Sunday

I made it very clear that I had to work while he was in town, and that I'd try to come to what I could. 

As the weekend grew close, I nearly bit all my nails off with anxiety. I REALLY didn't think it was a good idea for us to see each other. I didn't want to hurt him. And selfishly, I would have much rather spent the weekend with The Busy Builder.

Two days before The Aussie arrived, I told him I no longer felt comfortable with him staying at my house. Ugh, I'm an asshole. Frankly, I didn't trust him alone in my house. Last time he logged into my Facebook and read all my private messages. He has a history of snooping through my personal items. My friendship with my ex-boyfriends caused a lot of drama in our relationship, and I wasn't about to continue the cycle with my new relationship. He was really upset, but said he hoped we could still hang out...I said yes to lunch on Saturday and Dodgers on Sunday. 

Friday night instead of going to the X games, I went out and met The Busy Builder's friends. He spent the night and I had no problem sleeping with him while knowing The Aussie was sitting alone in his hostel. I'm an asshole. The next morning my phone buzzed with a text from The Aussie confirming lunch, and I ignored it to get waffles with The Busy Builder. We spent the afternoon in my backyard drinking margaritas and playing silly 20 question games about each other. I was having the best day with him, but my phone kept interrupting with The Aussie's calls and texts. I'm an asshole. After The Busy Builder left my house to get some work done, I finally texted The Aussie back that I was sorry for not answering. I'm sure he knew why. He yelled at me and told me I am the biggest bitch he's ever met and he couldn't believe he flew out there to see me (even though I never asked him to). I felt awful, but also relieved. I guess I needed him to hate me. So he could move on for good.

I never even told The Busy Builder that The Aussie was in LA. If you asked him, he'd say that day we laid in my backyard and got sunburned was one of his favorite dates with me. 

I'm an asshole.

...and I'm sure this will come back to bite me.