Friday, June 29, 2012

Sacrificial Lamb

What's new on the online dating front, you ask? Because you just can't get enough of my pathetic love life, or lack thereof? Well I'll tell you! I've basically been bombarded with men who are unapologetically looking for fuck buddies. While I've always been appreciative of a straightforward approach, that doesn't pretend to be anything other than what it is, it's getting old and slightly offensive. On the one hand, I like that they don't try to play games and trick you with grand romantic gestures. I can see through those sneaky ploys from a mile away like [insert superhero with x-ray vision here]. But on the other, can't they at least suggest dinner and a movie and make you feel like you're worth more than just fifteen minutes of their time?

Is this too much to ask for? Yes. Yes it is.
I know it shouldn't surprise me that these guys are only interested in sex. Hasn't that been the stereotype since the first adolescent boy first discovered hair on his you-know-what? But has the whole species given up on the pretense of dating altogether? Was your grandmother's theory about free popsicles and expensive ice cream trucks right all along? How many rhetorical questions can I fit into a single blog post? Are you taking a shot every time I employ this overused and somewhat lazy device?

Tee hee! How can an inanimate object like an
ice cream truck have any kind of sexuality?
"Billy" is one prime example of this new-ish breed of man, who is without guile, but also without game. He popped up on my OkCupid instant messenger last night, "Yo." I quickly perused his profile. Lives within 30 minutes, 6'1'', adorable in a Big Bang Theory sort of way. Check, check, and check. Then I looked at the questions he had answered. The first thing that caught my eye was that not only was Billy a twenty-four year old virgin, but that he openly admitted it. (I had to quickly check again to make sure he wasn't a Jesus Freak, which definitely would have been a deal breaker). Phew. I decided that we had enough in common and I was intrigued. Since I'm adorable, I replied, "Whut up?" Only, my computer autocorrected it to say "Shut up." Not a good start, but there was some decent witty banter surrounding this snafu.

Every guy's fantasy. At least the first part of this movie anyway.
After the opening statements, Billy asks the question that I've learned to recognize as a precursor to the whole No Stings Attached proposal: "So what are you looking for on this site?" The answer to this being essentially semi-casual dating. Not a serious relationship, but not a waste of time either. That's when he straight up told me he was just looking to get laid. No lies, no flattery, just an honest mission statement and declaration of lust. Naturally I had to ask him about his being a virgin, because that was a pretty ballsy move on his part. According to him, he had had lots of opportunities to have sex, but it had just never worked out. (This seemed a little less honest, but whatever). Billy even described his virginal state as a 'handicap' that he just wanted to get over.

Speaking of which...
Even though I'm sure being a twenty-four year old male not-by-choice virgin is definitely embarrassing, this seemed kind of sad to me. Sure, the goal to lose one's virginity constitutes the plot of almost every teen movie ever. But still, it's an important milestone in one's life and he was just offering up his precious flower to some random girl he met online that he'd only been chatting with less than ten minutes. (Or maybe I'm just so irresistible that boys are falling all over themselves to sacrifice their virtue to me). Strangely, I was honored to be chosen to be Billy's first. It was flattering in a sort of not-at-all way.

One would think that he was auctioning
off his virginity to the highest bidder.
Like in that one movie.
When I made it clear that I was not really interested in acting as his de-virginator, but wished him good luck on his quest, he wrote back, "I probably won't talk to you again." Ouch. Not that I wanted to talk to him again. But again with the brutal honesty! It's slightly painful, but appreciated nonetheless.

Sunday, June 24, 2012


Lately, I seem to be baffled by the behavior of the men in my life. I originally wrote out a whole rant about how irritating that several guys I've encountered lately like to drop off the face of the earth for several days at a time, only to reappear as if no time has passed at all. But it really did make me sound like the crazy, needy girl that I most certainly am not. This particular post is not to rant about how flaky men are. This blog is to pose the following question:

What the fuck???

That picture is an actual text that I received from one of said guys that I went on exactly two dates with earlier this month. I had texted him once on Sunday and didn't hear from again for five days. I get that guys have a tendency to just stop calling if they're no longer interested. I too am a coward when it comes to awkward confrontation. So if a guy is just not that into me and decides not to pursue any further interactions, there's truly no hard feelings. I had just figured that I was never going to hear from him, and continued with my daily life (and flirtations with other men). My heart will go on (completely intact I might add).

Say, wasn't it Berger himself who came up with the phrase,
"He's just not that into you?" (Even with the whole post-it thing,
he was still the only guy Carrie ever dated that I dug)

So again I ask, what exactly does it mean when a 31-year-old guy who was pretty but had the wit and sensibility of a 12-year-old, sends you a picture of a large, partially eaten hamburger? We had never eaten burgers together. We had never discussed burgers together, neither philosophically nor as some kind of obscure inside joke. And there was no text accompanying the burger to give it some kind of context. I could only assume that he had sent it to me by mistake. (Which would have been even more awkward if he really had decided never to text me again.) Not knowing how to act in this scenario, I responded with a sophisticated and concise, '?"

Ronald McDonald is not amused.

He responded right away (refreshing, for a change), "It's a McGangBang!" ... Still not getting it. He answered my subsequent query: "It's a McChicken and a Double Cheeseburger altogether!" All I could think to say to that was, "Sounds gnarly. Did you enjoy it?" Of course he enjoyed it. It has the word 'gang bang' in the name and as I mentioned, this man is 12 years old. And that was the extent of our conversation. Clearly this is not the love of my life. But seriously, WTF?

Oh, and some of you were wondering what happened with the guy from my previous blog post, Underwear Limbo. Not a damn thing. I must have ended up inadvertently standing him up after all because he never contacted me to reschedule. Unless he's like all these other guys who seem to believe in not contacting a girl unless enough time has passed that she's already given up on you. Sigh.

Monday, June 18, 2012

Underwear Limbo

I am just sitting here at my desk in nothing but underwear and a green reindeer bathrobe. Why am I sharing this excess of useless information that has probably put a random and unpleasant picture in your mind? Because I may or may not have a date tonight. And because I'm not exactly sure, I don't know whether to put on my comfy pajamas, or get all cuted up for some boy. We started IMing and things were going well. We bantered about the poorly chosen location for West Hollywood, as well as how much commuting sucks. Then he asked me to meet for a drink and I said, sure, why not? (He's 6'' and lives less than a half hour away, so those are the first requirements right there. He's also a writer so he was able to spell correctly and express himself using real words. Score!)

This is not me, but that is my bathrobe.
 And my happy face slippers, aww I miss those!
My friend was wearing them as a costume
for when she played a crazy person in one of my movies
in college. It was a good wardrobe choice for crazy.
I had to cut the conversation short because I was headed out to yoga. I totally would have ditched it, but I already signed up and would have lost a credit. Not to mention I skipped last week to go to my parents' house and already felt guilty enough about it. So I gave him my number and told him to text me if he wanted to hang out later. I also gave him the name of an awesome Irish pub conveniently located near my house. Then I skedaddled because there's nothing worse than running late to yoga class (you get hate stares when you interrupt the flow of the chi.)

I found this when googling "yoga bitch face."

No text while I was in yoga, and no message when I got back to my apartment. Since the original plan was to meet at about 8:30pm, I knew I had to book it to get showered and ready. But there was no real confirmation that he got my message about my number and the bar. So I proceeded with my routine up until the point where I have to decide, makeup or no makeup? Cute butt jeans and ever-so-slighty padded bra (which always feel like false advertising, but man do they do the trick!) or yoga pants and an oversized t-shirt? Thus the reindeer bathrobe. Because there's no commitment with a reindeer bathrobe.
Haha, and this had the caption, "Unbuttlievable!"

I re-read the IM conversation we had and realized that unfortunately our conversation could be interpreted in a couple ways. The first, that we were going to meet tonight at around 8:30pm. The second, that on some unspecified day this week (other than Wednesday because I have a date with another guy, BALLA!!!) we would be meeting at around 8:30pm. Oops. That's what you get for trying to be casual and noncommittal. You end up not making commitments like when and/or where you're going to meet up!

Lady pimp.

Why am I stressing about this so much? I don't owe this guy anything. It's not like it's a meeting with my parole officer (that's tomorrow night. HAH!). But I feel guilty because it would be a bit of a drive for him and he has to wake up at 4:30am every day for work. He was already going to be staying out late just to meet me (awwwww! Sounds like good people to me!). So because of this modified sleep schedule, it's possible that he's either asleep right now and that's why I can't get a hold of him. Or he's sitting at the Irish pub waiting for me to show up in my cute butt jeans and padded bra (side note, the padded bra has become a necessity since I started losing weight in the one area I could not afford to shrink).

This could be him, all sad and lonely
with only his girly cocktail to comfort him
from the devastation of being stood up by me!
So what do you think? Is he fast asleep, secure in the knowledge that we'll set up a date at a later time? Or is he all sad and lonely at a bar in an unfamiliar town waiting for this delightful creature who may very well be the love of his life? I DON'T KNOW! I already sent him a message essentially asking him if he wanted to reschedule, and no response. He may not have a smart phone (I don't either), so he doesn't get the OkCupid app. He also may be slightly dumb and forgot to take down my phone number and left the house without a way to contact me. I know I'm way over-thinking this. But I would hate to take the trouble to get cute (ugh), and then go sit at a bar by myself for an hour. However, I think I would hate to do that to someone else that's going out of his way for me (eventually affecting his work tomorrow).

I haven't even met this guy and already I'm going psycho on him (though that would explain the reindeer on the bathrobe I'm wearing in June). And I'm not really a psycho girl, I swear. I just would like some confirmation so I can at least put some goddamn clothes on!

Sunday, June 3, 2012

Maiden Bikini Voyage

I have not bought a new swimsuit in about four years. Since I really only wear one a few times a year, (both because of lack of opportunity to swim and because I never really fancied prancing about half-naked in front of strangers) it didn't really seem necessary to upgrade. But I'm going home next week (yay!) and I fully intend on making use of my parents' current pool. Out of curiosity, I tried on my old suit last night. I was both overjoyed and dismayed that it hung limply on my new body like a tropical-print muumuu. So huzzah for me for losing weight, but boo for having to pay for a new suit when I'm super broke and probably won't use it very often. So this afternoon, I was off to Target, armed with my ill-advised credit card that still carries the balance from my last yoga-inspired shopping spree.

I wish Target carried this suit!

Clothes shopping has become pretty fun since I've lost weight. It's exciting to see the numbers go down and actually have to ask for a smaller size instead of the humiliation of a zipper not going up on a pair of jeans you thought were your size. But even 81 pounds later, bathing suit shopping still sucks ass. For one thing, I'm still sort of between regular and plus sizes when it comes to swimwear. Meaning I'm either drowning in frilly mini-skirt bottoms designed to cover middle-aged, cellulite-ridden thighs, or my muffin top is spilling out of a tankini meant for a sixteen year old girl who has never known the taste of Splenda. (Hope you enjoy that visual, that's my gift to you!) There are very few options for someone who doesn't have children in college and isn't about to send in their college applications.

What most plus-sized bathing suits look like.  Yeah. Not cute.
I feel bad for this model who had to pretend like she likes it.

I decided to go for basic black, simple and chic. The big, bold prints that the plus sized "fashion" industry seems to fixate on, are no one's friend. You'd think it would be an easy process to pick out a black swimsuit, but it literally took me an hour and a half just to decide on the very first one I tried on. I'm such a girl sometimes... I stuck with the old reliable tankini and regular bottoms, since one-pieces bum me out. They're also impractical when you have to pee. But in a moment of boldness (and by moment I mean 45 minutes of painful deliberating), I also bought a matching bikini top. This may not seem like a big deal to you, but you should know that I have never worn a bikini in my life. Even when I still could probably pull one off, my religion prevented me from baring my stomach. When I was finally free of those restrictions, my weight had already skyrocketed. As a favor to society, I abstained from that particular look.

What I wish I looked like in my new suit...

But now that I'm working out like a maniac (doing the Flashdance routine as I type), I actually don't look too shabby. While I still have a looooong way to go, I can almost pull this off. I seriously doubt that I'll ever have the guts to actually wear the bikini out in public (there's a major fading stretch mark issue to deal with still). But it was a huge step to even purchase it and believe that someday I actually might go out in a bikini and not become Captain Ahab's new object of obsession.