what a beautiful mess (i made).

*8. texting. the new bootycall.

2005-02-27T18:46:00.000-08:00

first it was IM. then, text messaging. the sidekick. the sidekick 2. isn’t technology great? i mean, it’s always offering up a new and easier way to drop a bootycall. life has become so very convenient to young adult’s sex lives. thank goodness. finally - asking ladies for a late night hang just got a heck of a lot simpler. males all over the world are startin' to pray that it's not only college girls that're easy.

so guys, you’re in luck. you don’t have to small talk with my girl friends. or bribe a buddy to serve as your wingman when you don’t know what company i’m keeping. you don’t have to buy my kiwi margaritas. or go to a place that serves them. you don’t even have to hear my voice. because now, you don’t have to call.

and that means you won’t have to be embarrassed to the point of a whisper to give a sweet salutation like “hey baby, of course i miss you too” during the post-game wrap-up of whatever televised game congregated your jersey-wearing buddies that mowed down eight dozen spicy wings in record time and cleansed their palates between bites by taking full advantage of the $6 pitcher during-game special.

yup, just shoot me a text when ya'll finish “snakebiting” in celebration of another victory (as though you were on the field) or mourning over the damaged record. -- hey hon, i’m leaving the bar and want to see you. everyone is taking off. let’s meet at your place. be there in fifteen minutes. okay? -- (the shorthand version serves as solid proof that conversation hearts did in fact assist in this generation's communication skill development : "QT, i want 2CU. UR APT N 15?") -- brilliant. hey bartender, one more round. and a cheers to technological advancement finding another way to eliminate a form of real human “personal” interaction.

7. get over it. him. her. all of it.

2005-02-25T06:46:00.000-08:00

i’m sick of tip-toeing. i am done with it. i really am. i am done with your past. my past. and everyone else’s for that matter.

let’s all suck it up and get over it. all of it. together.

i’m a girl. so, obviously, if i’m doing this, i want some company. shoot, we girls don’t like going to the consession stand at the movies alone. because we stick together. always.

consider this a verbal hold-up. a stick-up. put your hands in the air. drop your baggage where you stand…then actually light it on fire. throw the gifts that he got you right onto the flame. and also the six page letter that you always consider sending him when your next date turns out to be a dud. and toss in any memories that you might be holding hostage – that hold you back from moving on past this loser (i found this paragraph works better if i’m demeaning to the guy’s character). then, once the pile begins to calm, put on last season’s polka dot rubber galoshes and jump/stomp on the non-pile until you honestly believe in your heart of hearts that the ground below may just fall out from beneath you. because that’s how strong you are. and how much you are putting into this get-over-him exercise. then collapse to the side. cry if you need to. put on the stupid love song that reminds you of him. laugh if you’re crazy. if you want, put on some aggressive alt rock garbage er, garage band that makes you hate him more. because i’m only giving you two hours of feeling badly for yourself. and the relationship that hereby ends. for good. yeah, i’d get it out of your system now. because there is no turning back. because remember we just lit all that stuff on fire. that's permanent. and i’m not letting you keep the ashes. because frankly, that’s creepy.

move past the guy that dumped you four years ago. stop overanalyzing the conversations you have with the guy that lives in another state. cancel your secret IM name that you use to see when your ex is online. realize your college crush is never going to change his mind. and that your high school sweetheart will never change. ever. period. acknowledge that your best friend might just marry that new girl he’s been seeing….for a year and a half. let your last boyfriend - that you emotionally slaughtered when you told him about another guy you porn-tongued in a bar in europe…and then in your hostel…and then on the trip you guys took to switzerland - date someone else already. let him move on. you aren’t with him. you apparently never really were. and he just might work with someone else. maybe even your friend. let go dammit. and also, if you have “dibs” on a guy that you never dated, then consider him not yours as well. the game of dibs only works when dealing with car “shotgun” calls and claiming a favorite in a box of assorted donuts (i get the vanilla long-john). i mean, there should be a termination period of one month on the dibs call - unless there is a major development. if you are harping on signs that he may or may not have ever been giving you - then, eh, by the end of this email – the guy’s a goner too. well, he can be your friend. but he isn’t your boyfriend. nor do you have any say over who he dates next.

lastly, if the problem isn’t your ex, it’s his – then you need to get over her too. respect that he’s kept up a friendship with an ex. shoot, that could be you one day. it certainly will be if you keep playing the jealous psycho bizotch that can’t handle him having a past. she’s in his life (to some degree) – and you can stay there too if you grow up and act like you aren’t threatened by an old relationship that clearly failed. because he’s with you now. not her. now, i know some ex-relationships aren’t healthy. maybe she wants him back. just send her to this page – and maybe she too will light a fire on her past. her failed, failed past. bottom-line is most people can’t have a longterm, serious relationship until they’ve had a few failed attempts. mentally thank her (not aloud) for being a stepping stone in his life – that brought him to you. haha. she’s a stone. stupid rock.

so let’s set up some rules (and feel free to add more by adding comments below) :
1) i will stop printing out emails that he sends and will not read them aloud at sunday brunch while making sad goo-goo faces and asking “well, what do you think that means?” because regardless of what it says, it means its over.
2) i will stop referring to him as my ex. and instead call him the idiot who didn’t know better. because he didn’t. doesn’t. and i’m moving on.
3) i will not use him as a reference when a girl friend is asking for advice. for instance, your friend says “i gave a guy my number last night – think he’ll call?” a rule breaking response would be “well, my ex, jimmy, hasn’t called me. and it’s been almost month.” the girl obviously isn’t asking you advice on a relationship that is over. she’s asking about one that might begin. so give the girl some hope. and stop bringing up something that failed. yeah, i said it. it’s brutal honesty here on this blog.
4) in my next relationship, i will not compare mr. new to the "ex.” because that relationship obviously didn’t work. so it’s probably best that they aren’t alike.
5) in my next relationship, i will not hold the new guy accountable for all the crap that the last guy put me through. because the other guy was an idiot. that didn’t know better. doesn’t. and i’m moving on. and certainly not bringing that baggage with me. it’s ugly. and this new 2005 line is much better.
6) i will stop calling my boyfriend’s ex names to my friends. and trying to convince them that she really, really might have horns hidden beneath her country-teased hair. her butt really isn’t that big. nor is her hair. nor is her nose. or her jersey accent. i understand that they are over. and are just friends. and i realize that if i break this rule, i could be forfeiting my position. allowing her to win by default – because i’ll be thrown out of the game. or this relationship. or his house.

so now, just accept that you are single already. and realize holy hell i have a lot of living ahead of me. so, i’m going to stop thinking about the past. or people from it. and i will stop comparing people. stop obsessing over what i can not control. and start thinking about what i’m going to wear. because this new me is going to look good – in my big debut.

because "i'm movin' on" - rascal flatts

*6. who dates? maybe just jews.

2005-02-23T06:46:00.000-08:00

well, i guess i don’t know what to say. i miss college. i miss being able to know most people in any given public space on campus. and being able to find out the baggage on anyone that my eye wanders over just by steering the gossip session at the student center over frozen yogurt and weekend recaps. i tell you, we were our own private investigators. i could do a background check after our first day of syllabus-reading economics class together and have you confirmed and written off in my mind as a dirtbag by the time the cafeteria gets rid of the waffle machines for the pasta bar.

now though, just two or three years later and we’re supposed to be willing to date someone that we pick up at a bar, meet at a bus stop, see on the subway? hell, where is the security in that. i know, i know, innocent until proven guilty. well shoot, i just want to know why you were brought into court.

so, who is dating?

i’m just wondering why it seems that jews go on more blind dates. i mean, my christian friends, well, while we’re all waiting to cross paths with “mr. right” - they're tracking the guy down using the jewish camp spider web that spans across the country or by tapping all family and temple connections far and wide. so heck, maybe we’re all wasting biological ticks. and they’re simply resourceful.

typically the searcher is not the person my age - it appears to be their jewish mother. i don’t know if it’s that they’re trying to marry off their child because moms tend to think nothing is worse than dying alone. or if the parent believes that it’s their role to provide until their girls settle (so-hurry-‘em-off-so-we-can-retire-already mentality). or maybe it’s just what their mother did to them. and, as we all are starting to notice as we are becoming real grown ups, we are beginning to morph closer and closer to...our parents (insert music : dun dun dun). traits that we thought we despised years ago, we now understand the “why” - and can actually appreciate acquiring the characteristics. well, not all of them.

seriously. every time i talk to my jewish friends out here on the east coast there is some tapas and sangria date planned with a guy/girl that they met through their mother’s friend’s neighbor or aunt’s son’s friend from college. he’s a lawyer. went to brandeis. great family. sox fan. she’s a nice girl. a good girl. beautiful. from boston. went to camp yj with mrs. soandsoberg's daughter. however, if the same situation was involving two christians – instead the parents would exchange their information (probably emails). then, the two might, might, might meet up in a group situation - at best. say, a party. a bar. a happy hour. if it was me, most likely i’d probably plan to set him up with one of my friends before i've even met him. the hand-off to take the pressure off. don't want to let the parents down. which seemed logical, until just now.

i wonder if it's actually because we tend to rebel against our parents judgement longer. like, to this date, odds are if my mom has picked out some guy - and is convinced he's just the man for me (she says he's dreamy. mr. for-life. the nicest guy on the planet. good job. a real hunk. great relationship with his mother) - immediately i think - wow, sounds like a perfect guy...for someone else. maybe i should set him up with one of my friends. hmm, but who? - the thing is though, recently i have had more interest in nice guys. but yet still probably not the ones that my parents would pick out for me.

so, what’s the real deal between the jews and the christians? i’m not religious (faithful at best) - but i’m pretty sure that the differences in the religions didn’t have much to do with dating habits. or did it? maybe i want tapas. no, actually, i know that i don’t. but i’d like to meet someone new. maybe even for me – instead of a handoff this time. but then again, i’d be a little nervous about a blind date. because who is this guy that needs to be set-up through a family member? oh wait, that’s me too. shoot. when did that happen?

all i know is that i’ve got plenty of jewish relatives on my mom’s side. and they don’t set me up. probably because i’m not jewish. and jewish people tend to want to meet someone jewish. no, not always. but preferably. like i wouldn’t ask to be set-up with someone shorter than me. but i have been known to make out with someone trailing a few inches. anyway what i was saying was, even my own relatives aren’t pushing for me. helpful.

my final thoughts are on jdate :

here is this network that puts tons of jewish people looking for love, like or a hookup in one place (an online jcca). brilliant. these people aren’t all extremely over-religious. they just want love, like or a hookup at their fingertips. moms all over the country are signing their kids up for the service. and their children have gotten liquored up, seen the benefits, and reaped them (the benefits). and then continued to logon sober to meet potential suitors.

and a great thing is, there, you don’t even have to be nice. you don’t have to respond to an email, a wink, an im - a sketchy. you can ignore it and it will go away. if you think the person is too short, too ugly, too “club,” too “B&T,” too boring, too “goldchain,” too aggressive, etc. you're in luck! no need for the proper etiquette you may have to administer in-person (like a nice let-down at the bar). i mean, shoot, people send out 100s of those a day. so, they’ll go away eventually – just as soon as another fish takes their bait. yes - just what we need : another great way to avoid confrontation. perfect.

people can now even purchase online dating memberships by the month. apparently we're catering to those that fear commitment. a trial package. genius. with a few minutes to scroll through profiles and pictures, its actually like people's first meetings. their screening. consider it the first bar conversation of small-talk. humor, salary, job, hobbies - all on one page. your dating resume. with this service, ladies might not be able to perform an official, thorough solid background check - but be warned, if you went to college with anyone that went to her high school she’s already got some details. you just better hope that she's willing to forget about your past, the cheerleading squad, and see who you are today. and never evah evah bring it up.

okay, now here lies my frustration - where is my assistance? my co-pilot. wingman. website. anything? hello. anyone there? knock, knock.

my gut tells me that if you were on a "christian" dating site we’d be talking scriptures and hymnals. nothing wrong with that. but something feels seriously off to me about trying to "link" a religion that encourages celibacy – and a dating/mating outlet. and as mentioned before, my relatives certainly aren't helping. and if my parents were, i may just nod off at their suggestions. but now, we christians can't even have an active website for christian cross-polination? shoot, we've been damned to the bars, the bus stops, the subways.

and that, my friend, is why i miss college : the unhealthiest place for relationships. the place where true male bonds meant you weren't going to find out if your boyfriend was cheating on you. the home of the i'm-so-sorry-baby-i-was-wasted-i-didn't-mean-to-break-your-window. the typical campus that allowed freshman face books to serve as a pre-orientation sorting of what sort of "bunnies" would be the frat boy's prey. but back then, we ladies got our background checks. had our crushes. and held onto the hope that this guy was it for now. because in college, we weren't even thinking about marriage. we were looking to find ourselves. and a boyfriend.

my new years resolution was to “be more open to meeting someone new” – and that’s what remains the goal that falls somewhere in the middle of my agenda. i figure, it can only get easier when my family, my religion, my friends and the internet geeks start working in my favor. so, gettoit already.

*5. my apartment. the ashtray.

2005-02-16T18:46:00.000-08:00

construction has been going on for about three months at my apartment. seems like longer. much longer. i don’t understand why it must commence at 8am. really, i don’t. of course, i’m also not sure why i’m still sleeping at that time - when clearly i should already be going through the morning motions. but that’s not the point. didn’t dolly teach them anything? nine to five baby, nine to five.

anyway, so apparently the construction workers were determined to ruin my life. or at least some of my stuff. and two days. i return home from work one day. exhausted. and really hoping that my apartment could look like a chimney. no, not really. but – it did. my own personal hell had been created. there was soot from top to bottom. my bed. my shoes. my purses. my cds. my pictures. and OHH my closet doors are open. my work clothes. my other clothes. my nightmare.

after a few debates with the building, they agreed to send in a team the next day. team. team to me implies more than one person. however, the one man cleaning team showed up the next day. an hour early. early? you’d expect late. well, okay. we were still picking up the clothes off the floor because it “isn’t the teams responsibility to pick up clothes, it’s only to clean.” sir, yessir. but we were working to make use of his earliness. however, kind of difficult to start when he shows up without supplies and with a puppy. without supplies, with puppy. umm, this is not a pet babysitting service. this is you supposed to be de-sooting my ashtrayed apartment. but ohhh look how cute this dog was. until it began using our new white carpet as its hydrant. now immediately a few things flood through my head 1) i hate this dog 2) it’s kind of ugly 3) not sure i’m going to be good with kids when i’m still too immature to handle a puppy’s “#1” and then finally 4) where the F BOMB is this guy’s cleaning supplies?

why else was this experience mortifying?

1) the guy stopped cleaning to make me touch his face – yup, he did. right under his eye. he glided my finger over his face like he was trying to teach me to read braille. he asked me what it felt like. it feels like i’m really uncomfortable – now clean my apartment. my voice cracks like a tween boy “ummm, i don’t know. a scar?” and he said “yeah, that’s where i was shot in the face.” oh crap. seriously. i’m going to get killed. great. who is going to cover at work for me? this was not on the agenda.

2) when cleaning the blinds that suffered extreme damage he asked “how far exactly do i have to clean up these blinds.” well, i was thinking just about a third of the way. eh, i’ll just get the rest later. umm, i’d actually like every other one cleaned i think that it will make a really cool pattern. no, i want them all clean. yes, all of them – yes, all the way up.

3) he has a lot of babies. no wife. lots of “mommas.” which is fine. not my business. but seemingly he was determined to make it my business. one is worth more than 2 million dollars, but here is his dad making only ten dollars an hour cleaning because he wants to stay out of trouble (great!) – and hasn’t been arrested in ten years (UMM WHAT?) and he wants to keep it that way (THEN PLEASE DON’T KILL ME). it’s a beautiful story. i encourage the life turnaround. i appreciate it. i watch oprah. but seriously, am i getting robbed? if you look around my “pad” is more like a dorm room – you’re really hitting up the wrong place. i just wish that he’d kept that story to himself. and the next thought as well :

4) he wants his next baby to be from “kickin’ it” with an irish woman (my roomate’s OBVIOUSLY irish) or maybe just a plain little white girl (i’d venture to say that pretty much describes me). now, this wasn’t a proposition. more this was someone without a properly installed funnel. someone who thought maybe that was a compliment – but instead, it was totally creepy. don’t sit on my bed.

5) he began conversations with the construction workers outside – through my huge window..while still on my bed – “bet we can make a good ol’ movie in here for you guys. you know what i’m sayin…haha.” wow. something CAN get me to stop wondering what the dog is peeing on. okay, there went the line.

6) i heard some gas passed. now look, people sometimes have this problem. grandparents, the lactose intolerant, people who went to a mexican restaurant for lunch – but really? am i REALLY stuck with a person cleaning that is going to be releasing his gases in the place i sleep? cleaning and polluting. how much do i tip for this? this could only happen to me. too bad he didn’t come with some supplies – certainly if he did he would have brought air freshener and i could have just followed him around with it. i mean, just because i am out from the office during a work day doesn’t mean i shouldn’t be working. i would do anything to be in the office. really, devil take my soul. no, fine. don’t. just bring over some airspray.

7) i think this is the worst part – he bellowed “babies? baby girls?” – requesting that my roommate and i join him in my room. why my room? why not hers? not mine again. and there he was plopped down on my boxspring with one of my q-tips in his ear. just dangling out of his ear. why is he dangling that out of his ear like that? why would he do that? why is he sitting? where did he put that q-tip when he removed it from his ear?

then what did we do?

the work wasn't bad. i'd kindly say his people skills were. regardless, we put a work-based tip in an envelope. i also pulled together about ten stuffed animals that i'd acquired (ones that i didn’t have any pooh bear like emotional ties to) – and packaged them together for his kids. then we said our goodbyes. and i mentally prayed that we never had to see him again. not in my apartment. not in my room. not on my bed. not with my q-tip dangling from his ear.