Tuesday, October 10, 2006

Happy Chuseok

I just celebrated Chuseok (Korean Thanksgiving) this past weekend. It was a full moon, and I spent it with my grandmother and grandfather for the first time that I can remember... I must have been 2 or 3 years old the last time I spent Chuseok with them.

It makes me a little sad that the people who raised me when my parents first immigrated to America are so strange to me. I've seen all of the photographs and heard all of the stories of my own childhood, but I know nothing about my own grandparents. This weekend, I learned their names for the first time. Not "halmuni" and "harabuji" but Yang Soon Boon and Kim Jin Woo. Fifty years ago, Korea was poorer than Ghana. I learned that when my grandfather was young, he moved to China looking for work because there was not enough food to eat in his village. He labored in China, and when he felt he had a little money, he took half of it back to his village in Kyungsangdo and left half with a good friend, in case he should be robbed on the way back. His friend later made it back safely as well. With the money he had saved, he bought some farmland and was able to get an arranged marriage.

My grandmother did not care for him at first; he was eight years older than she and she thought him an old man. She was only 20, and 28 seemed so far away. Considering the life expectancy at the time was under 50 years, I suppose my grandfather was middle-aged. I saw an old black-and-white photograph from their wedding. I did not recognize my grandmother, although my grandfather still looks much like his younger self. They were solemn, unsmiling, two children who hardly knew each other and were about to be committed to one another for life. And here they are, half a century later, although the dynamics have changed.

When they were young, my grandfather was stern and unforgiving. My grandmother did exactly as she was told without any complaint. Now, my grandfather is mostly reticent, speaking only when absolutely necessary... mostly to tell my grandmother to stop nagging my uncle. My grandmother, perhaps from having been silent for so many years, is constantly speaking. Sometimes she is complaining, sometimes she is nagging, but mostly she is just happy to be with the rest of the family. I don't always understand what she is staying because she speaks with Kyungsangdo saturi, a countryside accent. It is often difficult for me to understand proper Korean, so the unfamiliar accent/ dialect is particularly straining. Still, I want to know her. When I look through her photo albums, I imagine the life she once led, and it is so deliciously foreign and antiquated. What was it like to grow up in a time of war? When did she realize she finally loved her husband? What must it feel like now to have seen Korea go from rags to (nouveau) riches, from villages to cities?

Maybe I will ask.

Follow through...

Monday, October 02, 2006

Paradise lost

"The only paradise is paradise lost." --Marcel Proust

Echoed by the ever-so-wise Janet Jackson, "On and on you seem to go, and you don't know what you've got till it's gone." Unfortunately, if we buy into this theory without reserve, we're all screwed because it suggests that there is no hope of ever being truly happy or fulfilled, at least not to the blissful degree of paradise.

I like to think that paradise exists prior to the moment when its loss is recognized. I want to believe that I could be perfectly happy, perfectly fulfilled at any given moment in time, albeit on a small and perhaps ephemeral scale. So I suppose it's simply a question of definition. Can paradise be confined to a moment in time?

According to Proust, the nature of paradise is one that is inherently temporary. In that sense, I agree with the quote. I believe in small paradises. Our lives are in constant flux and there is never a moment where not a single aspect of our lives could not be better. But on a smaller scale, if we take our love lives, for instance, I believe we are able to experience perfect happiness and fulfillment for short periods of time. But unlike Proust, I think it is possible to recognize paradise at the time of its experience, however fleeting. I refuse to believe that paradise can only exist in hindsight... that would be too depressing for me to bear! Why go on living if the only moments of true happiness exist perpetually in the past?

Some people are, in my opinion, more inclined to agree with Proust. Until they have been stripped of that which they did not realize was paradise, they were looking for paradise elsewhere. I'm gonna go out on a limb here and suggest that men are more inclined to fall into this category than are women in relationships. I don't really feel like I have any real justification for that statement... but I think men are more inclined to experience the regret of paradise lost because they simply didn't recognize how good they actually had it at the time.

When women are dumped by men we care about and we are not in the wrong (meaning we did not lie, cheat, or act crazy otherwise), our feelings run a certain course. First, surprise. Second, sadness/ hurt. Third, anger/ ill-will. Finally, apathy/ indifference. The second stage tends to last the longest and can overlap to some degree with the third stage. But I'd like to focus on the transitions from sadness to anger to indifference. After the initial pain of heartbreak, after exploring every possible what-could-I-have-done-differently, it may be concluded that he is simply an asshole (may is the operative word here, because not all breakups have to be anyone's fault). Especially if it's because he met another girl. The hurt subsides a bit as the anger sets in because you're spending less time thinking about how horrid you feel and more time thinking about what a whore the other girl is (and other such unfounded, vile thoughts) and how much you wish they would both disappear from the face of the earth. You think of all of the nice things you did for him and realize how unappreciative he was and hope that with every new girl he meets, he looks back at you and comes to see the error of his ways. That in you, he sees his paradise lost. And then, at some point, you start to hate yourself for even wasting so much of your time thinking about him or any of your precious tears crying over him, and you begin to just not care. Time passes, and you care less and less. The memory is preserved and sometimes it is hard to remember all the bad things, but you've finally healed.

Paradise may be temporary, but that doesn't mean we should stop seeking it. The moment in which it is had is a glorious one, especially if you are fortunate enough to recognize it before it has passed. But even after its passing, the remembrance of paradise can be heartwarming. We needn't be concerned about the impending loss of paradise because more often than not, it's a given. The true joy is in savoring each morsel of paradise before it turns to shit.

Follow through...

Thursday, June 29, 2006

Pie chart theory

I recently had a conversation with a friend of mine about how the most beautiful people tend to be the craziest girlfriends or the biggest asshole boyfriends. I mean, let's be honest: all girls have a little bit of crazy in them, and all guys are at least part-asshole. But we all know that there are (unspoken & poorly delineated) limits to how crazy you can be or how big a jerk you can be within the confines of social acceptability. And sure enough, the premium placed on aesthetically pleasing outward appearance has led to the amplification of craziness and jerk-iness in ridiculously good-looking people. I'm not talking about moderately good-looking folks here. I'm talking about the turn-your-head-to-look-three-times-in-awe-slash-lust-as-you-walk-down-the-street folks. I'm of the opinion that they become more crazy over time because they get away with increasingly crazy behavior with each successive relationship that would otherwise not be tolerated if it were exhibited by less good-looking people.

But God giveth not with both hands. My roomies and I have formulated a Pie Chart Theory for simple (if superficial) categorization of people into neat little boxes (and by "neat" we mean "expandable"). Let's suppose that every person can be broken down into three basic components: looks, brains, and personality. (Yes, we could make this more complicated but for the sake of brevity, let's limit this to three components). Let's also suppose that everyone has a pie chart. We've all met people whose pie charts are askew. Let's examine some exaggerated examples. Note: We, the Pie Chart Goddesses, (a) use gender interchangeably in the following examples and (b) are grossly skeptical that a true 0% or 100% could actually exist, so these figures are for illustrative purposes only.

Type A: 100% looks, 0% brains, 0% personality. Really, really ridiculously good-looking with shit for brains and no personality to speak of. It's not that he's a bad guy. And he sure is purdy to look at. It's just that he's really kind of... dumb. And he's not a whole heck of a lot of fun to hang out with one-on-one because he simply doesn't have anything interesting to say. Sometimes he forgets he told you a story already, and when you remind him, it's a little awkward because it's not that you mind hearing a good story twice; it's because you mind hearing his story any more times than you have to.

Type B: 50% looks, 50% brains, 0% personality. The good-looking nerd with zero social skills. She gets excited when she talks about how she was able to manipulate the genes of overweight lab rats but she is so abrasive and annoying that despite whatever interest that particular topic might hold for you, you are overwhelmed by a wave of nausea followed by an intense desire to punch her in the nose. You consider making out with her, but only on the condition that she does not speak.

Type C: 50% looks, 0% brains, 50% personality. He's really hot and you can't stop laughing when you're around him because he always has the best stories to tell. It's a shame this is the sixth year he's been a senior college. It's not just that he is a complete idiot, it's that he's not THAT bright and he lacks motivation... it's that he realizes he could leave school and be an MTV VJ because everyone likes to look at him and listen to him talk.

Type D: 0% looks, 50% brains, 50% personality. She's sharp, she's clever, she's witty, she's sweet. But she is NOT cute. At. All. You read her profile on your internet dating website and pretty much fell in love. You see her pic, and she looks awesome. You meet her in person and you think to yourself, "Oh, geez. She looks nothing like her picture. Her picture was way hotter." You wait for your friend's exit call, make up an excuse about a car accident or something, and bail out, never to call the poor girl again. It's the sad, painful truth. Don't lie, Shallow Hal.

Type E: 0% looks, 100% brains, 0% personality. He's not attractive. He's socially awkward and eccentric and maybe even a little bit creepy or inappropriate, but it's only because he's such a friggin' genius that his oversized brain does not leave enough room for the proper processing of data for petty social interactions and this foreign concept of so-called normalcy.

Type F: 0% looks, 0% brains, 100% personality. She's not terribly cute and she's a bit of a ditz, but she is one of the funniest ditzes you know; she is a loyal friend; and while she can't seem to concentrate in any of her classes, she's got a wicked wit. Oftentimes confused with Type D, the only difference here is that Type Fs aren't as booksmart as Type Ds. At a party, when booksmarts don't exactly come into the forefront of conversation, Type Ds and Fs may not be readily discernible from one another. They typically play the role of wingwoman or cockblocker, depending on the signals from the friend in need.

Type G: 1/3 looks, 1/3 brains, 1/3 personality. Can be both a blessing and a curse. If your pie is a small one... well... you could end up being average or worse. If your pie is larger, however, maybe you're just extremely well-balanced. Mmm...

This pie chart concept becomes more complicated when you try to compare one person's pie chart to another. In order to compare, you would have to allot a certain number of points to each candidate because, clearly, a deaf blind mute would probably exhibit less personality, looks, and brains to the common outsider vs say someone you believed to be extremely good-looking, smart, and witty, though in equal parts. Same breakdown in pie chart persona, but entirely different in terms of level of competition. So let's be frank: some people just got a bigger pie. Take , for instance. Let's say said person is allotted a total pie point count of 1000. Let's suppose that someone less impressive only has 600 points. And that someone totally unimpressive only gets 300 points. Each person's pie points are divvied up according to his gifts. So a moderately good-looking person who has shit for brains might have 300 points, all in looks, whereas a ridiculously good-looking person with shit for brains might have 600 points, all in looks. And a ridiculously good-looking person who is moderately intelligent might have 900 points, 600 in looks and 300 in brains.

So goes the Pie Chart Theory.

Questions, class?
Follow through...

Thursday, May 18, 2006

Peeves

I am not a tidy person. Not even close. But strangely enough, I am pretty anal about two things in my bathroom. One, I hate it when someone uses my toothpaste and squeezes from some random spot in the middle. Can't you tell that I have meticulously been squeezing from the bottom up? And if you borrow my toothpaste or anything else of mine, like condiments, please do not leave a sticky mess on the cap, and if you do leave a sticky mess, please don't wipe it off with your finger because God only knows where that was last. Two, I don't like it when the toilet paper roll is replaced and it's positioned so the tp comes out underneath the roll, as opposed to coming out over the roll. Follow through...

Tuesday, May 16, 2006

One of the boys

I pride myself on being the kind of girl who can be one of the boys. As a senior in high school, I was determined to jump off of a cliff in Great Falls with the rest of my guy friends. The girls were mostly just laying out on the rocks surrounding the pool of water the boys were jumping into, and I wanted to be the girl who could do what the boys did. You had to clear this little ledge of rocks where the water was shallow (maybe two feet) before you got to the deep part of the pool, where it was safe to jump. At the last minute, I got scared and decided not to jump, but the momentum I had worked up from the little run to the edge of the cliff was enough to send me over, so down I went into two feet of water, landing square on my heels on rocks. I ended up with internal bleeding on both of my heels and a large gash on my left heel that has left a scar to this day. The boys had to piggyback me two miles to get back to the car.

Life hasn't really changed much for me. I've been out of high school for almost six years now. I find that I'm still constantly chasing after the boys, trying to keep up with them in this futile battle to prove... what? I don't even know anymore. That I'm a really cool girl? That I can be one of the guys? That I'm just as capable as any of them? What the heck am I trying to prove?

I work in a testosterone-overloaded commodity brokerage house with fifty-some guys and seven chicks (though there are only three female brokers). It's an environment few women can handle, much less appreciate. Imagine being trapped in a locker room with a football team ten hours a day, five days a week. My office is the post-grad equivalent of a college football team locker room. I wouldn't go as far as calling it an NFL locker room because I suspect that NFL guys are used to having female reporters or trainers around from time to time. The guys I work with? Not so much. I think they're not sure what to make of me: I'm a closer. (Or an opener... I never really understood why when you close someone, it really means you've managed to get them to open an account with you. Why don't they call it opening? I digress.) I open more accounts than most guys at the firm. I am privy to an inordinate amount of information pertaining to my coworkers' private lives. I know intimate things about their wives, girlfriends, flings, and one-night stands. Things I don't want to know. At all. At times, I have been implicated in their private lives. (Let's be honest; many have fallen prey to the temptation that is inter-office canoodling. Plus, the boys at my work aren't half bad. Looks-wise, that is.) We're all entitled to make mistakes, right? Riiiight. Anyway, the boys' favorite topic of conversation (aside from work and market talk) is girl talk. Generally speaking, when they're talking about women, it's not exactly respectful. But I've heard them on the phone with their significant others, and it's amazing how quickly they turn into these huge mushballs, telling their gals how much they love and miss them. There's something about putting a bunch of alpha males into a room together that brings out the worst in them. Get them one on one, and they're actually thinking, feeling human beings.

My roommates and I are also very close to this group of guys who live a couple of blocks away from us. My roommate Meaghan went to college with a couple of guys from Bangor, Maine. Adam, who is her best guy friend from college, pretty much grew up with all of the guys he lives with; some from the age of four, others from junior and senior high. They're like brothers. Adam convinced Ned and Matt to move out here after he'd been here a while, and they then convinced Drew and Ryan to move out here as well. Drew and Ryan have set up residence on the couches for the time being. So the five boys, collectively, are known as our Bangor Boys. We spend most of our spare time with them in some capacity or another. Eating, hiking, partying, watching tv, or wiping out (well, that's just Ryan and me since we're trying to learn how to surf)... we do it together! It's strange to see more than two days go by without seeing a Bangor Boy. Their conversation is not so much centered around how much game they have or the chicks they bagged the other night, but we talk about pretty much everything all around. A few of us went out to eat Indian food the other day and a comparison was drawn between the saag (spinach curry) and a dookie. First of all, if your dookie is that green, it should definitely not be discussed at the dinner table. Second of all, I like saag! I don't like comparisons being drawn between the food I am eating and whatever it is that's in your toilet bowl. Apparently, the boys have an ongoing contest as to who can produce the longest turd. And they take pictures on camera phones and send it to each other. Gross. I will not say which of the boys participate in this venture in the interest of shielding them from shame.

After a rowdy Cinco de Mayo party, I went on a spur of the moment surfing/ camping trip with some guy friends from UVA to Salsipuerdes, Mexico. My little bro Nate was in town this weekend to hang out and surf, and Dave was in town working. (The two of them, by a strange twist of fate, are in Nicaragua right now on a surfing trip, and they surfed together all that weekend.) I hadn't planned on doing anything crazy that weekend because I figured I'd be a wreck after Cinco, but that was not the case at all. I had a minor headache and no plans, so I decided to go to Baja with Nate, Dave, and Dave's friends Rob and Colin. I'll dedicate an entire entry to this trip later on, but for the purposes of this entry, let's talk about nudity. I have never met anyone who likes being naked as much as Nate and Dave like being naked. LOVE being naked. I understand that when a guy puts his wetsuit on, he's usually naked underneath it. I appreciate that it is a liberating feeling to be able to get naked. But really, there are limits to a woman's desire to see butt cracks and penises. In some way, I felt insulted that they were so nonchalant about changing in front of me. I couldn't feign the same degree of nonchalance. I had to avert my eyes. This trip cemented my relationship with Nate and Dave as a strictly platonic one. I might as well have been a dude, for all they cared. And while I was strangely flattered that they thought of me as "one of the boys," I felt almost a little insulted. Am I not a woman? Have I not a vagina?!?!

When Dave woke up from napping by Colin's pool and he had to tuck his semi-hardon into the waistband of his board shorts and the tip fell out, I decided I needed to detox from boys for a little while. An overwhelming urge to reclaim my femininity swept over me and I resolved to overcompensate for all of the boy time I'd had by engaging in over-the-top girly activities. Like watching chick flicks and giving myself a facial and painting my toenails and dressing up and wearing red lipstick. Unfortunately, my chick flick partner bailed on me and I didn't get around to giving myself a facial or painting my toenails, so I settled for red lipstick and a night out in mixed company.

In conclusion, boys are gross, but I like them anyway. However, let it be noted that I am ecstatic about being female. Although I may not be the prototype for a proper lady, I like being treated like one from time to time, and sometimes I'll even play the part. But only sometimes.
Follow through...

Thursday, April 06, 2006

Acapulco

It was a good trip. I've been to Cancun and Puerto Vallarta, and Acapulco was still different. You can see either the bay or the ocean from anywhere you go in Acapulco, so it's easy to dine on the waterfront. I tried red snapper cooked about six different ways, and thoroughly enjoyed the best huevos rancheros I've ever had. Snorkeling was a little disappointing, but I got my ocean swimming in when I swam out to the barge. Sunned in the shallow water in the adults only pool. Birds' Island and the lagoon tour were perfect, alligator, turtles, little boy with bracelets for sale, and all... it's too bad I got bamboozled by the seedy Mexican dude who wanted me to ride his horse. Mud mask facials and coconut drinks. Hammocks and a secluded beach. Cliffdivers and ceviche. Scrabble squabbles and relaxation. Palm trees and freshly fallen mangos. Follow through...

Tuesday, February 21, 2006

Funniest responses to the CL ad

V does not stand for VICTORY, it stands for Valentine's Day. And as Valentine's days come, I'd have to say this one ranked on my list of top five. And not for reasons you might imagine.

I want to throw a disclaimer out there: I'm really not a complete bitch. Yes, sometimes I can be a bitch. This entry is probably going to be one of those times. But come on, humor me.

Let's start off with some of the responses that we got from the good people of
Craigslist. We asked the guys to answer five questions for us:

1. What's your first name? (We don't need your last; we're not trying to get married.)
2. How old are you? (If you are not yet of legal drinking age or you are old enough to be our fathers, you needn't respond.)
3. Why should we pick you?
4. Why did you pick us?
5. Anything else you want us to know.

Bachelor: Romantic and naughty ----- This is my favorite horrible response, by the way.

My lucky no is 3. I am s****. By the way I live in pasadena and work in bank. I am 31, I am originally from India. I am fun loving, easy going and laid back. I am romantic and naughty. I did masters in computer science. Let me know what else you want to know plewas.

This had to be a joke. Tell me this was a joke. Because it was that frickin' funny. I keep picturing this earnest, Indian computer science guy saying, "I am romantic and naughty." And I can't stop laughing. I know it's wrong, but I can't help it. It's funny.

Bachelor: Ratsa Ruck

Ha!

You guys are hilarious!

I may be old enought to be one of your Fathers, but probably am not unless
your Moms went to Universities in Wisconsin, Montana or Colorado - I only
have vague memories of those dayz...

1) My name is R (Removal of name, mine. It'd be mean not to protect their identities.)
2) I'm 38
3) You should pick me because I'm square, unhip, and conservative - just the
opposite of you!
4) I picked you because your picken' up the bill, right? See, I'm trying to
get the whole equality thing.
5) Hmmm, I'm 6'2", 215, light brown hair, blue eyes, have been to 32
countries and chicks dig me.

If you don't pick me I still wish you "Ratsa Ruck" - as my Japanese friend
says!

Truly,
R


You know, this guy was pretty funny, and aside from the fact that he's definitely old enough to be one of our dads, I didn't dig his little "Ratsa Ruck" comment. I feel like when you joke around in an e-mail, you have to be careful, especially if you're not sure how the other person will read it. I was kind of offended. Is it me, or does it seem stupid to send that kind of comment to an Asian girl he doesn't know at all?

Bachelor: Whisperer

3. Why should we pick you?
I'll whisper sweet music into your ears.


Are you serious? I checked out the guy's MySpace link to try and figure out whether he was trying to be funny or if he was seriously that cheesy. It ended up lookin' like the latter.

Bachelor: Mr. Mysterious

To Melody just wanted to say i can't believe there is still beautiful single
people out there.by the way my name is well right back then I'll tell you.


Listen, buddy. First off, "right" and "write" are not interchangeable. "Is" is
singular and cannot be used with "people" which is plural. Also, selective capitalization irks me. It's okay if you don't capitalize at all, or use all caps, or use proper caps, but don't mix it up. When this is all I have to go by, a little grammar checking wouldn't kill you. Finally, I'm not going to be duped by your "right back then I'll tell you" maneuver. Mostly because you used your real name to register for your Hotmail account, so it shows up when you e-mail anyone. I already know your name, dumbass.

Bachelor: Canned response

Hello... my name is D
I’m a single 6’0” tall man. and if you met me out you'd find me rather interesting. I take time daily to maintain my overall physical fitness by eating right and being diligent to a formal exercise regimen. I’m a non-smoker and don’t use drugs. I am amply endowed and plesantly blessed and with both equipment and a vibrant sex drive.

My mixed ethnic heritage gives me my exotic looks and a good upbringing provides me with a high likeability factor in addition to a strong sense of self worth. I am polite and well mannered and treat women with respect.

I am a fiscally responsible and earn a living through creative pursuits. I am a dedicated man. World travelled, cultured and spiritual. Open minded, positive, gracious outgoing, spontaneous and lots of fun. I consider myself to be a sexy, hot passionate man. A good guy with a bad boy look. I am ambitious, motivated well groomed, tidy and have great personal hygene. I have a great fashion sense
and style sensibility.

I am into music, movies, hiking, leisurely walking, art, cycling, racing my car, photography (the latter two being my hobbies) or just hanging out. I am an intelligent man with substance and an aptitude for current and classic style. I am goal oriented and able to carry a conversation in any crowd.

I am interested in developing the best relationship of my life that could possibly turn into a long term deal for the both of us. Please attach a photo in your reply, not that it matters, its just that i’d like to know who i am speaking with.

looking forward to talking with you soon

Thank you


I'm not really going to go into his utter lack of understanding of commas, periods, and capitalization. What I will say is that this is obviously a canned response, something he cuts and pastes to every ad on Craigslist. He seems to think he's pretty damn perfect, which is kind of annoying, and he tries to use big words but he doesn't achieve the desired effect. Unless, of course, the desired effect is for the reader to laugh out loud or throw up a little bit in her mouth. Let's review some of the lessons learned from this e-mail.

-Don't send generic responses to specific requests.
-If you're going to use big words, don't overdo it. You sound like you're trying too hard.
-Try not to be redundant. We got that you’re a well groomed guy when you wrote it the first time. You don’t have to tell us that you’re tidy and have great personal hygiene, too, especially not all in the same sentence.
-Don't refer to your sex drive or your penis in the introductory e-mail. We don't care.
-Toot your own horn in moderation.
- Learn to spell and use proper grammar.
-Would a little humor kill ya?

I wasn't going to post pictures, but you've got to see this one. I figure he's in sunglasses so it's kind of anonymous.


I shit you not. Note the jewelry, the pose, the background. It's too much. TOO MUCH for me to handle. Not to mention, he's like 40 years old.

Bachelor: Shorty

i'm short, only 5'7" so which one on the pic is shorter than 5'7" or who
don't mind me being 5'7"? if there's none, you don't have to reply to me. if
i get your reply, you get my pic.

1. What's your first name? (We don't need your last; we're not trying to get
married.)
- RJ

2. How old are you? (If you are not yet of legal drinking age or you are old
enough to be our fathers, you needn't respond.)
- 23

3. Why should we pick you?
- if you don't pick me, it's your loss.

4. Why did you pick us?
- i didn't pick you girls. you were available.

5. Anything else you want us to know.
- absolutamente nada


What a jackass. And a short jackass, to boot. Did he really think we'd bother responding to a jackass?

Bachelor: Conceited much?

Whats going on ladies? OK, here is the good stuff that you wanted to know ...

1. My name is V
2. I am 24 yrs old ... and I am 5'11 and 175lbs
3. You should pick me for a few reasons. I am a really cool and chill guy, and I am super funny and can make anyone laugh. Plus I am into the same types of movies that you are all into. I saw you had quotes from "Old School," "Wedding Crashers," and "Anchorman" in you're post. I freaking love Will Ferell and everything that he has been in. You have to admit that I'm pretty awesome for catching all of that. You should also pick me because I know how to party and have a good time. You don't want some lame guy going there who is not going to enjoy himself and who is going to be a downer and bring everyone else down. I am defiantly not a downer, in fact, I am usually the life of the party. And lastly, not to sound too conceded, but I am good looking and in really good shape. And let's face, were all young and attractive. And being realistic, good looking people like other good looking people. So these are just a small sampling of the many many reasons you should pick me.
4. I picked you for the same reasons you should pick me. We are all good looking, you seem like you're cool and like to have a good time, and our personalities are very similar (for example, me knowing those quotes and loving those movies)
5. There sure is ...
Melody : I don't have any tats, but I have my eyebrow and my nipples pierced. You love live music, dancing and drinking. Well I am a musician who's band is going to go on tour in a few months, i like drinking, lol and when I drink the right amount I sure as hell love dancing. And as an added bonus you don't have to worry about me not using spell check, I have a history degree from CSUN (I'm actually only 2 semesters away from my masters) lol so it is just ingrained into my head to use it.
Megan: I don't have curly hair, but my nose is kinda crooked, lol you can be the judge, and i sure as hell have big muscles. I don't have an accent, I am a so. Cal. boy born and raised, and I'm actually a Raiders fan. I thought taking Randy Moss away from you're Vikings would make my team better, but we sucked again this year ? And i have a great sense of humor and a 6 pack

Lauren: I am a really laid back guy too, plus I am in Hollywood a lot going to different places. (my favorite is the rainbow bar, it is right next to the Roxy on Sunset) Depending on where i go i can wear jeans and a t-shirt or I love getting dressed up and going out ..... the pic i sent is from when i went out to a club that had an 80's night about 2 weeks ago. It was a blast, lol my friends tell me I had a good time, but I don't remember too much of it.

Alright ladies I think my time is just about up. To be perfectly honest you should pick me, I am everything that you are looking for and I know we would have a good time. Lol i hope that doesn't make me sound like an asshole, but its the truth.

Talk to you later,
V


In short, sounds a little cocky and is not exactly the brightest bulb in the batch, although he seems to believe he is brilliant and doesn’t need to use spellcheck. He doesn’t seem to realize that spellcheck can’t tell you that “conceited” means arrogant and that “conceded” means gave in, something else entirely. In the same vein, spellcheck will not be able to tell you that “defiantly” is not the same thing as “definitely.” And I am not going to say anything else because I think his reply speaks for itself.

Bachelor: Hard body

I'M WHITE MALE 25
5-11
160
DARK HAIR
BLUE EYES
HARD BODY


He sent us three photos. Here's a sample:

Gross!

Bachelor: Sailing grandpa

Hi There! Well,,,,I don't know if I qualify,,,but I don't have ANY fear of
introducing myself. My name is R. My personality is of the sweet type. my look is of the tall dark and handsome type. I'm single, but love a good intimate relationship! No children and never married. Now get this,,,my age,,maybe to old for you, maybe not! I'm 48! I have a youthful look and youth spirit and at heart. I love to sail to Catalina, along with easy harbor cruises with a drink and appetizers. I'm in pretty good shape. I won't lie and say I'm a hardbody. I do have a couple extra pounds on my waist. But I wear it well. I think that my interest in in either Megan or Meaghan. BUT! any sweetie would be fun for me!! here's my photos and tell me if I'm in! Love you,,,,,R


Love you? LOVE YOU?!?!? What guy in his right mind would write that?!?! I want to put the pic up but it's way too clear a shot of his face. Let's just say that he looks at least 55 and grandfather-ish. He sent us a picture of him sitting on his boat. And sitting in his boat. And in front of a painting of a boat. We get it. You like sailing. That doesn't make you any younger, gramps.

Bachelor: Feeltoomuch

I am looking for friends and of course that great love but that comes from great friends. I have always been best friends with whoever I am dating and usually the best friend to all of my friends.

About me you might ask, well first off I am 27. I am well traveled. I have visited China, Malaysia, Singapore, France, Norway, and Hawaii a couple times a year. I am a photographer, and I moved to LA from Texas last week and I am working steadily. I am not extremely social, however I am not an introvert. I am complicated, deep, emotional and very insightful. I am looking for a relationship but I believe it will come from friends and trust. I think my personality is going through a phase and I am going to be doing some soul searching because my personality isn¹t what it should be. I would categorize myself in an odd way. I would say I have a woman¹s emotions, a country boy¹s attitude, a new Yorkers drive and a California heart. This very odd combination lets me blend in anywhere and fit in almost nowhere. I am looking for a friend that can appreciate my incredible devotion to the people in my life and occasionally overlook the tactless honesty that I sometimes project. I am 6' and thin, I don¹t watch sports, I do drink, and who I am today isn't the person I will be six months from now


After reading our ad, how do you respond with something like this? All serious and (wannabe) deep. Did we come off as the kind of girls who would be interesting to/ be interested in a guy like this? A little too new-agey for our tastes. Seems like a nice, genuine guy, but our ad very clearly projects a “loud-obnoxious-drunk-girls-looking-for-a-good-time-with-manly-men” image. A woman's emotions?! And a man who doesn't watch sports is not really a man at all. It just blows my mind that this guy felt like we might be a good match.

Bachelor: Recent dumpee

anyways,
i was dumped last week and i had my whole v day planed out, so im kinda
bumb'd. I dont want to be thinking about it on that day all alone.


Yes. This makes us want to meet you. Pshaw. We don't do pity dates.

Bachelor: Chaotic

About Me ??

- single
- from Europe
- student, 26, 5'10", 150lbs, white, straight, non-smoker
- very sweet with good manners
- handsome
- educated (I spent the last five years studying at a german university
having classes like business science, computers, law)
- professional here in an office in Century City
- 3 languages (german, english, french)
- sporty (10 years soccer, 7 years gym, different kinds of other sports)
- trustful
- honest
- ambitious
- humorous
- faithful
- independent
- I absolutely like to laugh and I'm always in a good mood.
- And I absolutely enjoy to tease and fool around with a girl if I really
like her. (and if she likes me)
- Sometimes I'm a kid... sometimes I'm a grow up...
- I'm curious and I like to talk and have serious and deep conversations.
(though sometimes it takes a while to have that... ?
- I'm always open and curious to meet new people
- My sign? I'm a virgo.
- I'm NOT 420 friendly...

Usually I don't like to tell people what "qualities" I have. I want them to find that out on their own. I want people to ask me questions and I want to find about about other people on my own.
And I hate cocky guys. If I think somebodys cocky, I'm like.."oh man who dialed the zero?? Or why are you talking??"
I don't like to show-off. Why should I? I think that's stupid. But if I'm not gona tell you anything about me, how should you know?
Hey, why don't you go for a coffee with me and find out by yourself? And if you think I don't fit or your girlfriends like to go out with another type of guy, hey...that's no big deal. I'm confident enough to handle that ?
But of course I want to join your Valentine single mingle thing!! ?

Nevertheless I also want to give you some reasons why NOT to pick me. Sounds stupid to you why I'm gona tell you that?? Well sometimes it's better to put the cards on the table...
- I will leave the states in two month.
- So if you're looking for a guy for a long term relationship for one of
your girlfriends, I might be the wrong guy.
and BTW: I'm NOT looking for a hookup or anything like that. (we are on
CL...so I gotta tell you that...:) I've no problem to hug somebody, cuddle,
hold hands or maybe even have a nice Valentines Day kiss (and besides...the
beach, a long walk, sunset, a nice girl, that sounds awesome to me too). But
at this point of time I'm not seeking a girlfriend for a relationship. I'm
happy the way it is right now. I think you cannot seek for a girl. If you
click with someone, that's great, but you can not push that.
- I don't have a car in the states. But I can rent one.

So let me know if you think one of these do not fit into your picture...
You've written a funny ad, so telling you these things is the least I can do.
Oh... and of course I don't have two other friends to bring with me... My friends are like 10 hours away by plane...

And I'm sorry for the messy email... I'm at work... Am I??
Hm... I should continue working, before my manager get's mad...
?

Have a great day...
And if I don't hear from you... Have a great Valentines Day !!!!
R

PS: feel free to ask if there's anything else you or your girlfriends want
to know...


I had a lot of trouble following this guy's thought process. This is a classic example of TMI. TOO MUCH INFORMATION. It’s like a really bad first date where the guy wants to talk about his life story and all you want to do is stick your fork into your eyeball. Things we didn't like: his abuse of the smiley face, his adamant anti-420 worldview, his too-honest reasons as to why we shouldn't pick him, and that weird bit about cocky guys. It makes it sound like he's got some kind of complex.

Bachelor: LOL

HI I READ ALL OF YOUR CLASSIFIEDS AND I AM MORE THEN INTERESTED IN ALL OF YOU AND I WANT TO KNOW IF ALL OF YOU WANT TO GET TO KNOW ME ...CHECK OUT MY PICS IF ALL OF YOU LIKE THEM LEMME KNOW IF NOT THEN ALSO LEMME KNOW, BUT IF ALL OF YOU DO WANT TO GET TO KNOW ME PLEASE MAKE SURE YOU
TELL ME LOL

umm not to be too cocky i think you will like me, people tell me all the time i should be a comedian. but i tell them i'd rather have a real job... im 6'1" im 21 i got a buff build but not cut ( at least not yet) this is like my first time responding to one of these things and im only responding because i think i am what your looking for .....im fun, wild, exciting, charismatic, a gentleman, and much more... get back to me if u wanna chat or know more, my aol or aim screen name is ----- ... ttyl bye


All caps to no caps. Was that supposed to suggest that he was yelling the first paragraph and then spwaking quietly in the next? Also, real men don't use Comic Sans or bubbly fonts of any type. It's not okay. Especially in teal.

Bachelor: Prom king

How are you doing? Hopefully, you are enjoying the week, so far. A little about myself or should I say alot if I don't write the LA TIMES. My name is R I am a successful entreprenuer with a degree in Finance. I am ambitious, goal oriented, postive. Motivated man with many goals to accomplish. I have been told numerous of times that I am handsome and a comedian that doesn't get paid but love doing it. I am a successful man who has three properties and growing. I do smile 24/7, not that I look at myself at night.I am also a mentor. I stand at 5'10 5'11 with my shoes on. I'm 171 lbs unless I gain an extra one pound over the weekend. I have black hair along with my natural brown eyes. I have no pimples, zits or frickles. I also have no body piercing and no tattoo's, as well. If I miss anything, please let me know. If this interest you or you would like to know more, you can e-mail me back, Thanks. I hope to hear from you soon. I live here in Northridge. I am very easy going with a great sense of humor who likes to have a great time.I hope to hear from you soon.

I better let you before I write a book and maybe even publish and sign autographs, so take care and I do hope (cross my fingers) actually both of them, that you will pick me. I will be the funniest guy you have evern know, that is a free unpaid adverstisement. :)

P.S. This is a recent pic of me. I no longer talk to the girl on the pic. I hope you like it.




I think he tried to make a joke with the LA Times bit but I didn't get
it. I don’t think I really got any of his jokes, though I got a sense that he was trying very hard to make them. For a guy whose friends say he's quite the comedian, he's not very funny. Except when he's not trying to be funny, like when he calls attention to his lack of zits, pimples, and freckles. Because, you
know, that's something that people ought to include in introductions. And like his lack of epidermal blemishes, so lacking is he in his grammatical skill. Oh, and what about the prom picture he sent us? If you're trying to meet girls, why would you send out your frickin' scanned-in, cheesebally, posed prom photo? (I blurred his face out... Oops. Now that I think about it, I should have blurred hers out, too, but there are too many more and I'm feeling lazy.)

Bachelor: SmoovePersian

My name is Amir (it means Prince....that's gotta be worth a couple points, right :)

His handle was SmoovePersian. Do you see me creating e-mail addresses as SmooveKorean? No offense to those of you who do, but for some reason, the combination of a misspelled and self-glorifying adjective with one's ethnicity really gets my goat. I don't know why. Ever since the early days of AIM, I've always hated it. Yes, the SexxieKorean1004s of the world tick me off. So Prince might be a really nice guy, but because of that particular pet peeve of mine, he was done before he even started.

Bachelor: Iwillcrushyourhead

well i saw your post and i have to say it was alot more informative than most and it sounds like your friends are pretty cool so i am sending a pic and if u like what u see and what i have to say then email me afe pics back and which of u would be more interested in meeting me (from your post it sounds like megan with those delisious looking lips of her's, yes i am the sarcastic type so don't take anything personal i just like to have a good time) but you all have a great look and if i had to chose i do not think it would be possible...........i would have to have u all

anyways i am 31 but everyone thinks i am 24 25 when they meet me but hey "it is what it is" and "i am what i am” but i am not popeye. i am alot of fun and can hold my liqure as well as drive so let me know what u have in mind and if we should meet first to see what happens but this is my cell and i stay in the lax area and hollywood (i am a contractor/handyman so i am all over the place really) i work for myself so there is not any schedualing problems for me either

hope u find what your looking for if i end up on the "ASSED OUT LIST" BUT IF U WANT TO MEET SOME OTHER TIME OR JUST SOOT THE SHIT I AM A REAL PERSON WHO IS JUST HERE TO SEE WHAT HAPPENS IF I HAVE A GOOD TIME OR EVEN MEET SOMEONE THATS EVEN BETTER

B**** ###-###-####


Dude, have you ever head of a period? And I don’t mean the ones you abused when creating your 11 point ellipses. I tried to read this aloud to the girls when we were picking through the e-mails and I couldn't. I ran out of breath. He should not be allowed to write anything ever, if only for his abuse of punctuation (those poor apostrophes!) but add to the mix the spelling and the too-long run-on sentence, and voila! You've got the disaster that is his e-mail. Plus, he looks scary in his pictures. He's glaring at the camera with his handlebar mustache, tattooed and shirtless, in various states of flexing. He is built like Arnold Schwarzennager (sp?) in his bodybuilding days and looks like he may have just gotten out of jail after being put there for crushing someone's head into a pulp using his bare hands. Yeah. That's what I meant by scary.

Bachelor: Brokeback



I know, Cowboy, your abs look phenomenal in that open shirt. But your timing is
off. I don't know if you've heard about this little movie called Brokeback Mountain, but you look like you belong in it, and that's not scoring you many points with us heterosexual chicks.

Bachelor: Crassy McCrassyson

Hey how are you so first off can you go at it for 5 hours. I am a male 5'7 brown hair blue eyes and 150 lbs and well built go to the gym 4 times a week and very hung let me know if you are interested

I'm just grateful he didn't send us a cockshot.

There you have it. The worst/ funniest responses we got in the 36 hours
the ad was up. I don't have any more energy to write, so more on V-Day
later. Follow through...

Tuesday, February 07, 2006

Valentines wanted

Posted on CL for shits and giggles.

*****

As I was browsing the personals ads on Craigslist, which I often do, I had an epiphany. I must post on Craigslist and organize a sexy single mingle for Valentine's Day. I have often thought it'd be fun to post an ad and see what kind of responses I'd get, but to be honest, I'm a big fat chicken. This "group hang" approach seems to be pretty safe. I will not end up on a missing person's list because it is much harder to abduct a girl when she part of a posse; I will not have to arrange for my friends to call me fifteen minutes into the date telling me there is a pressing "emergency" I must leave the date for; I will not wake up naked next to an ugly man I have no recollection of ever meeting (friends don't let friends go home with beer goggles on).

Valentine's Day is one of my favorite holidays of the year (second only to Halloween and Thanksgiving, which are tied for first place). I think it's wonderful that there is one day out of every year that is dedicated to the celebration of love. As cheesy and commercialized as it has become, I can't help but smile when I see boxes of chocolates and long-stemmed roses. But in spite of my unwavering enthusiasm for the holiday itself, I find myself single more often than not, and while I'd like a special guy to lavish my attentions on, I'm more than happy to kick it with my other single girl friends and go out in search of love, lust, and everything in between. The problem we face, however, is a lack of male participants in this grand scheme of ours to meet hot guys at a bar and make you fall madly in love with us. At least for the evening. You know. In the spirit of the holiday.

The Megans and I are blissfully single but ready to mingle! Singles who are sad, depressed, or otherwise wallowing in self-pity are not allowed. This is a party for people who want to have a good time quoting from obnoxiously funny movies and do not start crying or become combative after consuming copious amounts of alcohol. Because when it hits your lips... it's so good!

Meet the ladies.

I don't know how to put this... but we're kind of a big deal.

Melody. Tattoo on the lower back. Might as well be a bullseye! She likes sunsets and long walks on the beach, in addition to live music, dancing, and drinking. Melody's pet peeves include men who don't use spell-check in written communication and don't know the difference between "your" and "you're," "to" and "too," "except" and "accept," and "passed" and "past." Melody is just starting to learn how football works; she still cheers during instant replays. She's got a thing for undercover nerds, guys who like books and watching the Discovery channel but seem like dumb frat boys or brooding musicians at first glance. Her ideal date includes either tacos or sushi (no food bigots, please) and a rousing round of Scrabble. And maybe some whiskey.

Megan. I'm just gonna throw this out there... I want to be on you. Megan has a thing for curly hair, crooked noses, and muscles. If you have any of the above, you've just scored yourself some bonus points. However, she is an equal opportunity dater and enjoys men with foreign accents. Heck, the language of love is universal, right? Megan is a Vikings fan who runs half marathons for fun and could probably outswim most of the guys we know, and she's frickin' Betty Crocker when it comes to baking. She knows more non-PC jokes than almost anyone, with the exception of her sister Steph. She's a sucker for guys with a sense of humor. And a six-pack doesn't hurt.

Meaghan. Baxter, you know I don't speak Spanish! Meaghan is our resident fashionista. She's the go-to girl when it comes to what to wear and how to wear it. She's super laid-back and is the type of girl that guys love to hang out with, even when they're watching football, bc she won't talk through the game. You might find her at a sports bar with her guy friends drinking beer and watching the game, or at a trendy lounge in Hollywood wearing some stylin' threads sipping on a gin and tonic. She's versatile like that. Meaghan likes tall boys who like to eat. She is an excellent cook, especially if you're a chili or chowder fan. If you can pull off the aviator look, you have one step up on the other guys lined up for this chickadee.

Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to e-mail us and tell us a little about yourself and preferably two of your equally fun friends (although you are not required to bring friends). Answer the following questions:

1. What's your first name? (We don't need your last; we're not trying to get married.)
2. How old are you? (If you are not yet of legal drinking age or you are old enough to be our fathers, you needn't respond.)
3. Anything else you think might be interesting or important.

Please include recent photos where the majority of your face is NOT covered by massive sunglasses (actually, if you are a guy who wears massive sunglasses, don't bother replying to us) or a hat whose brim allows us only a glimpse of your chin, no matter how sexy it may be. We want to see more. If you want more pics of us, let us know. We'll be looking for at least three good men. It's possible that other gal pals of ours will want to get in on this sexy single mingle thing and we may need more manpower then.
Follow through...

Saturday, February 04, 2006

Boys boys boys (Part 2)

B beat me in Scrabble. And my roommates all like him. He gets a third date this weekend.

So I left off with GayJ, our questionably queer friend.

Let's start with a physical description. It's actually pretty easy. He looks a little like Colin Farrell, but daintier. Yes, I just described this man as being dainty.



He's such an oxymoron. This is the guy who inspired the "Allure of the Bad Boy" blog that I wrote before, but he is by no means a true bad boy. Yes, he drives a motorcycle and drinks Jack Daniels straight from the bottle. Yes, he wears biker boots and smokes incessantly. He looks the part at first glance. But if you look more closely at his stance and listen to the stuff that comes out of his mouth, you begin to wonder if it's all some elaborate act, maybe so elaborate an act that he's even fooling himself.

I first met J back in September when I bought my bed from him off of Craigslist. When I first moved to LA, I was strapped for cash and living on my own in a city that's not exactly... cheap. It's not Manhattan, but it's still not inexpensive. So I became best friends with a little site known as Craigslist, and every day, I'd scour the "free" and "furniture for sale" sections, hoping to find a steal. I found an ad for a gorgeous dark wood California King size bed and called the guy. He seemed surprised to get my phone call; his phone had't been able to receive any incoming calls for days and mine had mysteriously gone through. So he took that as a sign from fate and agreed to sell me his bed. When I arrived, I was limping from having recently fractured my left foot (yet another drinking casualty), and he was nice enough to take the bed apart and load all of it into my car for me with his friend. It took a while, so we talked about why he was leaving LA and our jobs and the usual small talk. Well, it turns out this guy used to be a daytrader back when the dot coms were hot, and he'd trade thousands of shares on margin to make teeny tiny profits per share. He never filed his taxes from that endeavor, however, so he had a lot of explaining to do to the IRS. It looked like he had made millions of dollars when really it was only thousands, so he decided rather than pay, he'd run. I probably got some of the information mixed up, but the idea I got was that he was leaving LA bc he'd finished working on a movie, and he was visiting his mom in Hawaii before moving to Costa Rica to flee the IRS.

*Crickets chirping*

At this point, you would be completely in line were you to question my taste in men. Strangely enough, it's the ones with weird backstories that catch my eye. I like it when guys are at least a little bit off. I think it makes them interesting. Anyhow, so that's how J and I first met. Through the course of the following months, he would text message me randomly and in December informed me that he'd be moving back to LA in January and that he wanted to hang out. I figured we'd have a drink or something, but didn't expect much more. Well, then he wanted to hang out all the time, and I'll admit, I didn't mind keeping his pretty face and warm body around. Sadly, though, while GayJ may be nice to look at, he's a little bit vacant. His pie chart is 99% good looks, and the remaining 1% is divided between personality and brains.

Meaghan and I have talked on more than a few occasions about how nice it would be if he could just come out of the closet in his True Religion jeans and Juicy hoodies and be our hot gay friend who loves fashion and shopping and gossiping about celebrities. I mean, this is a guy who says stuff like, "Do you have any moisturizer? My skin's feeling so dry." And he like to try on all of my hats. He also can't stop commenting on who's gay and who's not in Hollywood.

Here's the icing on the cake, however: he was in this movie called "The House of Adam." He had mentioned it in passing but I looked it up on the internet and was dismayed to find that he starred as this gay cop in a movie about a gay man who gets lynched. When I asked him about it, he was visibly taken aback, and went on the defensive immediately. He asked me why I cared, and I said I was just wondering if the people he worked with thought he was gay. (That was my indirect way of asking him, ARE YOU GAY.) He skirted around the issue a bit, saying that he didn't really care who thought he was gay, except that it really bothered him when girls he liked thought he was gay and wouldn't date him.

Yeah, that would be me.

But the more I hung out with him and talked with him, the more convinced I've become that he's either soooooo unbelievably metrosexual that he's easily mistaken for gay, or that he's gay and has no idea because he's in a very very deep state of denial. Not like, six feet under denial; we're talking 20,000 leagues under the sea denial. He gestures with his hands. He knows way more about fashion than I do. Though that's not saying much. He saw a picture of Colin Farrell in US Weekly and commented that he needed to get his eyebrows under control. But then he also takes every opportunity to assert his straightness in stride. He doesn't do it in a way that makes me think he's doing it to cover anything up, but in such a way that may have developed as a result of people always questioning his sexuality.

After all, this is LA. If there were ever a place to come out of the closet, this would be one of the best (falling behind only San Francisco and New York City). He's been in a gay movie, shown as a cover model on a gay magazine, featured as a hunk in a "Hunks of Hawaii" calendar, and lives with a gay producer. He says he doesn't enjoy doing all the gay stuff, but for some reason, all these gay men in the industry take a liking to him and want to help him out. I have to bite my tongue so I don't accidentally say, "It's because they all want to suck your dick, J." I'm sure they all think he's gay. Shit, I did! Do... Did? I dunno. Nor do I care, really.

I asked him to have dinner with me last night so he came over and we went to get sushi and then talked in my room for a bit. I told him about C, the non-boyfriend. I told him about going on a date with B. And I told him that I couldn't see myself with a guy like him in the long-term, but I enjoy his company. Also, I said that he wouldn't be getting any (and by any, I mean ANY) because I didn't like to sleep with/ get hot and heavy physically with any guys if I am seeing more than one. So, tadaahhhhh! I was completely honest with him, so now I can still get him to buy me dinner and drinks, cuddle with me at night, and I'm not obligated to make out with him or anything. I think I got a pretty good deal. It's like having a fabulous gay friend who just doesn't know he's gay yet. So maybe he's not fabulous just yet, but we're working on it. After all, Meaghan's gay co-worker said that when he was pretending to be straight, he'd make out with girls, too. I'm not trying to get involved with a gay man trapped in a straight man's body. That could be disastrous for my ego later on. However, I feel like I've done my part in disclosing my current boy situation and telling him that all I want from him is his company and some cuddling. Sweeeeeet. You could never get that kind of deal from a straight guy.

I think that's about it for the boys who are currently on the rotation.

And there is the possible return of Alden Glenrock. Klein and I had a little adventure last spring at Busby's where we met Alden and his friends and had perhaps the craziest night of our lives. And I had this complex about how crazy he was bc I'm not normally that crazy, so when he'd call, I'd be a complete bitch to him or ignore him altogether. He's kind of a cutie, though. Looks a little like Paul Rudd but not.



Let's see if he calls again after my last phone call to him. I told him exactly what I just told you guys: that I don't normally party quite as crazily as we did when we first met him, and
that's why I was mean to him. And he said he understood, and that his friends who had been with him then were gone, and that they were kind of the crazy influences in his life. So... he's shed himself of the friends and maybe we'll hang out and have some quiet time. Who knows?
Follow through...

Wednesday, February 01, 2006

Boys boys boys boys

Boys I do adooooooore!

I started writing this e-mail to my girlfriends and then realized after I finished the entry on B that it got super-long. So... instead, I'm going to serialize it. Leave you wanting more. (Or wanting me to stop writing them, whatever.)

I know it's been a while since I have spoken to some of you on the phone, but I wanted to try and fill you in on what's been going on in my life as of late. Well, more like who. Work's fine. I'm heatlhy. Mom and Dad are great, and Dan's doing well, too. He's excited about getting the hell out of South Carolina, even if it means that he's going to be going to Iraq to do it.

The most interesting developments, perhaps, have been in the romance department. Let's start with the old. You all know how I feel about C. C is my non-boyfriend. We still talk at least a few times a week, we make plans to see each other at every opportunity (though those are few and far between), and we talk about marriage and child-rearing, though not ever about our marriage or our children. I don't think I have all that much more to add, except that I've pretty much told him at least twice that I would be willing to forego dating other men if he could promise me he wouldn't date other girls. Which actually means I want him to be my boyfriend. We had this discussion about how he feels like the title is overrated and puts too much pressure on the relationship, and with the two of us being 3,000 miles apart and God only knows where he'll end up for his residency, there's no point in trying. I think there is, but there is no way in hell that a long distance relationship will work when one person is less than totally committed to trying to make it work. So there went that idea. I am disappointed, but whatever. So I decided to start dating again. But I told C I wouldn't let them see my boobies. So far, so good.

After the conversation where I put my ego on the line and told him I'd like to see him exclusively (and after his brutal rejection), I decided I deserve better than to pine after some guy who isn't sure he wants to be with me. Now, don't get me wrong, I haven't written him off completely. He and I have this weird chemistry. We just click. I believe that actions speak more loudly than words, especially for men of few words like C. Might I remind you all, even as you're shaking your heads in disapproval, that C came to visit me in LA for his Thanksgiving break, even though he was supposed to hang with the guys in NYC. And that he also came and stayed with me in NoVa over Christmas break when he could've been kickin' it with his boys. I appreciate that, and I know that for him, it's a big deal, even though he'd never admit that.

At the same time, I don't want to put my life on pause, so I'm going to date other guys. C's right; there's no telling where either of us will be a year from now. But it's been hard for me to be completely open to any male advances bc in the back of my mind, I still hope things with C somehow come together. In the meantime, I'm half-heartedly attempting to find a guy in LA who might change my mind for me. If I like a guy enough, I'll alert him in to my non-boyfriend
situation. If I start liking a guy, I'll let C know. I want a man who will fight for me. But he has no incentive to fight right now bc I am so apparently smitten with him.



Ugh. I can't even write about it any more. Let's talk about the new boys.

B and I met back in September over Labor Day weekend. You remember unidentified penis man? When Natalia was visiting me, we went to Cabo Cantina and got smashed there, neither of us remembers much from that night. When I woke up the next morning and started looking
through my pictures, I found a picture of a penis. Yeah, that was B. He is the kind of guy who has a very juvenile sense of humor. He's 30 and he still thinks stuff like that is funny. And I'm not gonna lie; I think it's funny, too. It's just that I'm not entirely sure I'd appreciate a guy I was dating to randomly whip his wang out and leave evidence of it on strangers' cameras. Hmm. That was probably not the best way to introduce you guys to B. Let me start over.

B's 6 foot something and 200 lbs. Big guy, but not fat. Just meaty.



B intrigues me. He's unlike anyone I've ever met. He's a party-loving frat boy and a perfect gentleman all at once. He never finished college, twice, but he strikes me as an incredibly
intelligent guy. He's opinionated on social and political issues (and he doesn't always agree with me and stands by his opinions) but he has an unfortunate tendency to mix up "you're" and "your" in his e-mails to me. You guys know how much I hate it when people forget basic grammatical rules. Some rules are ok to break when writing e-mails, but "your" and "you're" are not interchangeable under any circumstances. That is like, a hair away from being a dealbreaker for me. But I was delighted to discover that he's a big big BIG dork. Like... in college, he used to play that card game "Magic: the Gathering" and he was actually a nationally ranked player, playing in Magic tournaments and stuff. He likes books about dragons and shows like Battlestar Galactica. And he loves computer games. He's kind of a nerd, but he hated school. He tried to do the college thing twice: once at the University of Colorado, and then at University of Illinois- Urbana Champaign. He feels like he has to prove himself to people bc he never graduated from college. He quit school, decided he hated the cold weather in Chicago, and moved to the Caribbean to teach sailing and be the fun guy for Club Med resorts. After a couple years out there, he moved to LA and made ends meet by bartending. Now, he owns his own business "screwing shit into walls," as he puts it. Basically, he sells used needle disposal bins to hospitals and also installs them. He travels constantly bc he's a people person kind of guy and he knows that in order to win contracts, he has to put in the face time to build relationships. He's an insta-friend. You meet him, and while he's a little over the top for some people, most people take an immediate liking to him bc he's funny and witty and makes you laugh. He once won $47,000 on the Wheel of Fortune. And he loves the Vegas. Once, he wore a tux out and told everyone he was supposed to get married and got left at the altar. Got free drinks all night long and thought it was the funniest joke in the whole world.

He got my number at Cabo and never called me. I didn't think anything of it. We had had a very good conversation which ended with me giving him my number and him promising to call and take me out on a date. When he never called, I figured it was just meaningless drunk talk.
Well, a few weeks ago, I got a MySpace message from him, and it went something like this:

Hey-
This is probably the most random message you will get today. I hope
you remember me. I am B and we met at Cabo about 3 months ago. I
used to work there but I had quit when we met. We had had a pretty
good conversation that concluded with me asking you out. Now, if you
don't remember me, then this message probably just got a little
awkward. I'm not making this up. You can ask anyone who works at Cabo.
You probably can't ask them if we met or anything but they will vouch
that I worked there. At any rate, not long after, I destroyed my phone
in a terrible accident (I sat on it while it was open). My work has me
out of town at least 4 days a week for the next month or so but I
would still like to at least chat again sometime. I would say grab a
drink but I have sworn off booze for the near future and it looks like
you might have done the same. You can MSG me if you are interested or
you can call me. (phone number here). I fly out to the Bay area
tonight until Sunday and on Sunday I fly to Akron, OH (which I hear is
a happening place this time of year). I'll be back Wed morning until
Sat when I head off to Harrisburg, PA. Way too much info but I'll have
my phone and should have computer access most of the time. I hope to
hear from you.
-B


I was curious as to how he found me on MySpace bc it's not as though we have any mutual friends. So I asked him how he found me on MySpace. I wanted to know if he had randomly browsed and somehow landed on my page or if he had actively searched for me to try and contact me. He didn't really answer the question properly.

My ex-girlfriend Lindsey(you can see her on my friend list) invited
me. She said it would be a great way to keep in touch since she no
longer lives in LA. At first I resisted prefering to talk to people in
person. As a poor second choice, sometimes I talk to people on a
phone. I don't like e-mail and I can't stand IMing people. I type to
slow.
Now that I am on Myspace, I realize my ex invited me as revenge for
dumping her 2 years ago. This thing is horribly addictive and I now
spend two hours a day writing messages to people and searching for
long lost friends. 2 hours a day I could actually go out and talk to
people who are actually there, you know, in person. This shit is more
addictive than crack. As evidence, I site the fact that I have never
been addicted to crack, yet now I am somewhat addicted to Myspace.
Oh well.
I am glad you responded and I'll call you when I get back to town. No,
really this time.
-B


"Preferring" has two r's. "To" is not the same as "too" or "two." But I'm willing to overlook that because his messages made me laugh. Plus, he sought me out. He remembered my name and he looked for me. I thought that was kinda cute.

He did take me out to the long-awaited dinner, and it was great. I was pretty nervous before hand. I don't know about you guys, but this was the first proper "first date" I've ever been on. You know, that thing where you meet a guy, he gets your number, you talk, and then he takes you to dinner. In my case, it's a little more convoluted. He got my number, we didn't talk, he found me on MySpace and suckered me into a long-delayed date with his little jokes, and then finally took me to dinner three months later. He took me to this really cute steak and seafood restaurant in Santa Monica called Chez Jay's. It's this tiny, hole-in-the-wall place by the beach with great food, a Santa Monica staple. Neither of us drank any alcohol. We had lots and lots of diet Coke, and sat talking for three hours. Yeah. Sober. He is laying off the booze until he gets below 200 lbs and well, as for me, I had just come out of a terrifying New Year's Eve. Do you know how weird it is to not drink alcohol when you're with a guy you barely know? Surprisingly, though, the conversation flowed well and perhaps more importantly, I remembered all of it the next morning. Why? Because I was sober. I've gotta try this sober thing more often. =) He dropped me off at my house and walked me to my door, and gave me a kiss on the cheek good night.

He's hilarious. But he's so funny that I don't know if I could take him seriously. He seems like the kind of guy who would hide behind jokes when it came to discussing things like feelings. Like if I got mad at him, he'd turn it into a big joke, which could potentially be more frustrating than a man who'd just get made right back at me. And I wouldn't want my boyfriend getting drunk and leaving pictures of his penis for everyone to see. But I don't feel like I should go into seeing someone hoping to change him, even if the change is in asking him not to take pictures of his penis, no matter how big a kick he gets out of it. That said, I had a great time with him and he came out to see me the next day when I was out at a bar, though he only stopped by briefly. This Tuesday night, we're doing dinner and playing Scrabble. We argued about which dictionary to use. He insists the Scrabble dictionary contains fake words. I can't really argue with him, bc I don't believe "et" or "qaid" or "qat" are words, but the Scrabble dictionary is so useful with all of its two-letter words and "q" words that don't need a "u" and the phonetic spelling of letters of the alphabet like "zee." "Zee" is not in Webster's, I'll tell you that much. So we're using Encarta instead. If he can beat me, I will definitely go on a third date with him bc he'll score some major points.

Aside: C can beat me in Scrabble, fair and square.

OKAY. B and I had a great date tonight where we went to get ghetto Mexican and then played Scrabble with the Klein. He beat me at Scrabble, fair and square. In fact, he beat me more than fair and square since Klein and I were ganging up on him. He had 200 and I ended up with 199. He gets a third date.

He also kissed me on the lips. After asking if it was okay. Is that a new thing? When guys ask if it's all right that they kiss you? Dude, I'm all puckered up and ready to go, get on with it already!
Follow through...

Monday, January 23, 2006

When it rains

It pours. The drought has endeth and now I'm caught up in a veritable torrent of... the mens.

Let me try and sum up my love life for you in a nutshell: the nutshell currently runneth over. And that's not a good thing. Boy 1: I want him to be my boyfriend but he won't. Boy 2: Really hot but I'm afraid he might be gay. Boy 3: Super fun but don't know that I could ever take him seriously. Boy 4: Recently shed himself of troublemaker friends and wants to hang out.

I try and keep my references to the men in my life relatively vague, especially in the case that I have feelings or still care about him. I don't want my vulnerabilities exposed to everyone on the internet, I guess, but I'm also afraid that the guy I write about may see it. That would suck.

Secretly, though, (not so secret now, huh) I wish he knew all of the things I'm too chicken shit to say to him. I wish he knew that I'd gladly swear off of dating and embrace quiet nights. I wish he could trust me.
Follow through...

Thursday, January 19, 2006

The allure of the bad boy

Nobody makes me cream my panties quite as quickly as the bad boy. You all know one. He wears dark sunglasses and a sexy five'o'clock shadow and is often spotted with a motorcycle helmet tucked under his arm and a cigarette dangling from his lips, oozing sex appeal. Very reminiscent of James Dean in Rebel Without a Cause. He drinks Jack and he shoots pool and pretty girls in miniskirts are always fawning all over him. It's because he is a brooding, mysterious bad boy. You probably don't know very much about him. In fact, he's probably very difficult to get to know because he is a man of few words. Verbal communication's just not his thing. You ask him questions about where he's from, what his family is like, and what he enjoys doing in his spare time, aside from shooting pool and riding his motorcycle off into the sunset. He's your modern-day cowboy. But you're hard-pressed for answers. He answers tersely. He leaves you wanting more; this is without question the most crucial component to the bad boy allure: the constant tease of fulfillment. So when he nonchalantly mentions that he and his parents don't really get along that well, you are excited. Not because he doesn't get along with his parents, that'd be screwed up, but because he shared this precious little morsel of intimate information with you. And then you wonder why he doesn't really get along with his parents that well, but you have to wait until he's ready to share that with you. And he always gets to decide when. As the morsels slowly accumulate, you start to put the bigger picture of his personality together, and it's like you've been let in on this huge secret that no one else is privy to, and you feel special. Actually, it can go one of two ways. It's at this point that the allure either becomes solidified or begins to evaporate. Some things are better left to the imagination.

But why is he so magnetic? Why can't you stay away from him even though you know that (a) you have to have the patience of a monk because that's about how long it'll take for him to let you in, (b) your parents and close friends will disapprove (though they'll probably all secretly agree that he's super-hot), (c) he'll probably break your heart in spite of your best attempts to break him in, and (c) you can't change him?

You want to save him. You want to save him from his delicious badness (and occassionally you might even want a taste of it), from his chaotic life of booze, bikes, and billiards. He intrigues you, draws you in, and then you want to protect this tough bad boy who's really not all that tough deep down inside, and only you would know, because you've seen that deep down inside.
Follow through...

Thursday, January 05, 2006

Wanted: the quiet life

I was lying in bed chatting with Natalia online and watching the USC/ Texas game in my underwear when Megan comes barging into my room smelling strongly of liquor and cigarettes, demanding that I get dressed and accompany her back to the bar. She'd been at Q's since 3, tailgating before the game started at 5, but I really didn't feel like getting up and putting clothes on to go watch the game in a crowded bar full of drunk football fans. Not that I have anything against drunk football fans; I'm just tired and I want to lay in bed in my underwear and eat peanut butter straight from the jar. Is that so wrong?

Megan left disappointed. I refused to get up even after excruciating naked tickle torture (I feel so violated) and a couple of very painful smacks on the butt. So I returned to my conversation with Natalia and it went something like this:

Me: I don't want to go out. I just want to stay at home and have someone to play Scrabble with.
Natalia: I couldn't get my fitted sheets on my bed by myself and I really wanted a boyfriend there to help me.
Me: I totally know how you feel.

Yes, yes, yes... women need to be independent and needn't feel incomplete in the absence of male companionship. I know. But geeeeez. Sometimes I can't reach the top shelf and sometimes I want to spend a quiet night in bed reading a book or playing a rousing (haha... a-rousing... I'm so cool) game of Scrabble or cuddle with something other than my pillow when I watch sappy DVDs. I firmly believe that it's important for a woman in a relationship to have her own life separate from that of her boyfriend's, like having a group of friends who are not his friends, like having her own place/ space, and having some occupation whether it's a job or school or hobby that doesn't include him. I'm all about the together time, but I feel like there's got to be some girls' nights and boys' nights.

(Aside: this is a really really good game. I've been trying to type while watching, so it's taken me like an hour to get this far in the entry. Evenly matched, well played by both sides. And Vince Young was aMAZing. Much like his buttocks.)

I've been watching a lot of Sex and the City lately. It's the season where Carrie has the short hair and Miranda first has her baby. Carrie's all cynical and sad and is losing faith in love. There are these publishing ladies that want to compile some of her columns into a book and they ask her what the overall tone of the book would be: is there hope or should we all hang ourselves now? And the answer at the end of the episode was that tribute should be paid to the eternal optimists, our Charlottes. The ones who believe in love no matter what, even when that faith is tested time and time again. To some extent, there's a little bit of Charlotte in all of us, I think. No matter how jaded I think I've become; no matter how jaded my friends and I become, even as we throw our hands up in frustration and worry that we'll die alone and be discovered three days later after our cats have eaten our faces off, still, hope lives on.
Follow through...