I am 28 years old.

On Monday, I turned 28.

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

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

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

But I can't complain. Life is good. 

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

I've gone on four second dates.

I started and ended two pseudo-relationships.

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

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

Here's hoping the world doesn't end!

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

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

I've been single for a while now. 

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

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

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

No.

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

No. I got it.

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

No. I'll handle it.

I bet Beyoncé carries her own bag.

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!

The F Word

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

And then he said the F word: FUTURE.

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

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

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

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.

C-Block makes a New Friend

Not every guy has a positive reaction to, "I have a dog....he's a cocker spaniel mix...small, white, fluffy thing." But at the end of the day, he has to be cool with my main man, Oliver, if the relationship is going to go anywhere.

My roommate does the online dating thing, too. One time I witnessed a guy bring her dog a treat from Three Dog Bakery, and thought, "good move." She takes the meet-and-greet pretty seriously. But she's also the girl that locks her dog in the spare bedroom on nights her ex visits because he's a "light sleeper." Uh huh. Suuuuuuure. 

Personally, I've always approached the situation from a pessimistic side. I'm nervous that he'll think my dog is stupid and not manly enough.

"So, uh..here's my dog. Oh, ya he's crazy. Don't worry...let's go."

But secretly I'm jealous of the couples I watch at the dog park while Oliver wanders around peeing on every tree. 

Ron Swanson told me he had something for me when I went to his house for dinner. Turns out it wasn't a gift for me...but for my furry little c-block. He handed me a stuffed fox, complete with squeaker inside. It's Oliver's favorite kind of toy. To be fair to all other guys in the world, Ron Swanson isn't so perfect as to buy my dog a gift. He tried to adopt a dog after the divorce, but the jack russell was a little too crazy and their trial period (and relationship) expired...much like his marriage.

Oliver very happily accepted the foxy toy. 

We're both pretty content being #2 right now. 

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. 

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.