I think it's important to recognize, Readers, that not all moments in a blossoming fuck-buddyship should be all romance and rosè. Sometimes it's nice to whisper sweet whatevers into each other's sex parts, but other times it's nice to just curse at each other and leave bite marks. (!! A POEM!)
I was reminded of this last week when, at the end of a date, I coyly leaned in to my "friend" and sighed, "I really like you," and he responded by looking down my shirt and saying (mimicking my tone), "Titties!"
For a moment I thought I should be offended, then I remembered what my mama used to say, "You can lead a horse to water but a lot of dudes can get super distracted by tits." And so it is.
Posted by Havilah
This dude who's whatever told me recently, "I can't give you 100% right now". This other dude who's also whatever told me, "I'm not in a position to be a full-time boyfriend to someone."
First of all, what fucking pheromones am I emitting that are reading as, "I need to subsume you entirely like some kind of brain-eating amoeba"? Becauuuuuuse, I need to get that shit fixed.
But more to the point, why do these men seem to believe the only way to be truly "involved" with someone is to give "100%" (or "full time"...which I guess could really just mean 40 hours/week)? No one, including Sweet Brown, has time fadatt. Maybe I'm in the minority here, but ever since I stopped being a 19-year-old girl, I have had zero interest in giving 100% of myself to any-damn-one. That's not to say I've not been deeply in love, I have (shut up, YES I HAVE!!). I just don't understand or connect with the idea of giving everything to someone! It seems like that would just be wildly unhealthy. And shit, forget about you not wanting to be a "full-time" boyfriend - GURL! I don't want to be your full-time ANYthing. I mean, DAMN! FULL-TIME!??! That's a fucking lot of time! When would I write my blog about the other dudes I'm dating? When would I watch my stories or do my jigsaws?? When would I think up offensive pussy jokes to tell my mom?? OH MY GOD I'M FREAKING OUT JUST THINKING ABOUT IT.
So, you guys, here's what:
I can't speak for the rest of singlepeoplekind, but as for me - I do not want to give you 100% of me or my time and I do not want the responsibility of being gifted with yours. I think 60/40 is fair. Maybe if we're going to talk about like sharing assets and credit reports or some crazy shit like that, we can maaaaybe get to like a little higher ratio. Until then, stop trying so hard to not be a 19-year-old girl!! Believe it or not, it's not actually expected of you. You stupid ho.
PS: To the women who potentially taught these men to think we're all crazy-demanding; Fuck you straight to your fucking face.
Posted by Havilah
Dear Single Readers, if you find yourself faced with the opportunity to do something scandalous, really sexy and maybe a LOTtle out of your comfort zone:
Your mind and body will thank you.
And I will salute you with my most genuine salutation (no, not a boner...you slut for brains).
And that's all you're getting from me on the subject. Smiley face.
Posted by Havilah
Emma Koenig wrote, co-directed and starred in the video below. It pretty much sums up what I've taken multiple hundreds of posts to say. So. Thanks folks! And thanks, Emma. For putting me out of a job.
Fuck my life.
Posted by Havilah
As you know, Dear Dedicated Readers, while I have turned my back on online dating, I continue to keep my accounts active for you, only for you. Well, I got an attractive email a few weeks ago and decided to give it a shot.
We met for drinks and had a nice enough time. By "nice enough", I mean I agreed to see him again even though there were no sparks. We met again and had another lovely date (still no sparks) until he exposed himself to me. No, he didn't show me his penis. He showed me his insecurities, possible homophobia and made me question whether he actually does have a penis to expose.
Because you are completely obsessed with my blog and everything I say is burned onto your subconscious mind like a brand, you already know I like to call people (men and women) "gurl" or "bitch". It's a thing. It's just how I talk. I like it. So, when he told me some story about how he doesn't floss (READERS, YOU SHOULD FLOSS AT LEAST ONCE A DAY!) I replied with, "Girl, you should floss!" He responded with, "I'm a man and don't ever call me that again." Which could have been funny if he wasn't aggressively serious about it. Thus ended what could've been a perfectly nice non-relationship.
Guys, I have to be able to call you "girl". If you're not okay with that - dealbreaker.
Posted by Havilah
**By Guest Blogger Lisa Loveless**
I recently returned from the Far East where I discovered something amazing: The Ex-Pat community. The internet defines “expat” as: a person temporarily or permanently residing in a country and culture other than that of the person's upbringing.
Through interacting with this community I made a discovery: NY men are WHACK as HELL because they are lazy. There I said it.
I have never been interested in dating foreign men. I guess coming from a different country myself and being an “immigrant” in the US, American men were enough of an “other” for me. I have friends that collect rendez-vous with foreign men like stamps on their passports, but it just wasn’t my thing. I may have to reconsider this stance, though.
I met Philippe at a dance club in China. He is a 32 year old French business owner currently living in Hong Kong. Now, I know what you are thinking: “A bar isn’t a place to meet a man” and you are absolutely correct. But I was on vacation, so I wasn’t looking for a life partner, just somebody to flirt with and maybe have a little dance. Difference number 1:
This motherfucker can DANCE and I LOVE to dance. My number one pet peeve about NY men is their resistance to just letting loose and dancing (I feel like I have to sell a kidney to the black market to convince a guy to get on the dance floor with me.) Unless, of course, they are blackout drunk and THEN they want to live out some fantasy of being a contestant on “So You Think You Can Dance.” Newsflash: When you are drunk, you lose the ability to be coordinated….so you are actually flailing around like an idiot and possibly threatening to knock some helpless girl down with your brilliant drug/alcohol induced “dancing”. There are exceptions to this rule, but that usually involves me going to an urban dance club.
But Philippe was so fun on the dance floor and sober enough to still offer some charming conversation. I don’t think I have danced that much with someone in over 8 months. They literally turned on the lights and we were still hoping the DJ would play another song. Ex-Pat 1 :: NY Men 0 Difference number 2:
This man was a man of his word. My motto in life has always been: “Say what you mean and mean what you say.” Period.
I don’t know how many times I have had a situation where a NY man will say something like: “Let’s catch a movie next Tuesday”...cut to next Tuesday and they are ghost—nowhere to be found. No follow up. No confirmation. Nothing.
Listen, you are not doing me any favors by asking me to do something you have no intention in actually doing. I have plenty of things to fill my schedule with. But when I carve time out of MY busy schedule and then you completely flake out on a plan YOU initiated…well that’s just plain disrespectful. But somehow, I now expect this to be the norm and not the exception. I actually overbook my schedule and plan backup events because I have stopped believing that men will show up when they say they will.
So when Philippe had to fly to Shanghai to visit one of his manufacturers and promised to return before I flew back to NY to take me on a “proper” date, I took with it a grain of salt and went about the business of enjoying my vacation. Don’t you know, that despite being held up in Shanghai longer than he planned and trying to book a flight on a sold out holiday weekend, Philippe waited at the airport to fly stand-by and managed to keep his word and take me on an awesome date on my last day. So if this man can jump on a two hour flight to keep his word, you can show up to a goddamned movie! Ex-pat 2 :: NY Men 0 Difference number 3:
This man was so comfortable in his own skin that it allowed me to be comfortable in mine. NY men (or maybe American men in general) are obsessed with what defines them as a “man.” So much so, that they are actually homophobic--deeming anything that doesn’t fall into their definition of a man as being “gay.” I dated a guy who would drop the phrase: “that’s gay” so much I felt like we couldn’t connect on any level with the things I enjoyed doing. So, watching a rom-com with your girlfriend: Gay!, going dancing: Gay!, watching a play: Gay! and on and on the list goes...I know he was an idiot. But how can you create intimacy with someone who dismisses things that he deems “feminine” because he’s afraid it is going to make him less “manly”. At the end of the day, I’m woman….what do you think I’m going to bring to the table?
When Philippe asked me one thing I wanted to do on my last day, I was scared to be honest with him. The truth was, I wanted to get a facial. It sounds silly but they are SO affordable in Asia that there was no way I was going to miss out on getting a $275 facial for $50. I tiptoed around the issue and then shyly confessed to my facial desire. I half expected him to say, “Ok, I will go to the bar for a beer and we can go to dinner after you get your facial...because getting a facial is gay!” Instead, he looked at me, smiled and said, “That’s a wonderful idea. I could probably use a facial myself.” We went together and had an awesome time at the spa.
That moment of acceptance set the tone for the rest of the date. He accepted me and the things that I wanted to do without judgment and it opened the door for some wonderfully honest conversations.
So, if I have to sit through a freaking soccer game and hear you yell (like you are on the field and they could actually hear you) at “your” team for not scoring a goal without judgment, you can come and get a damn facial with me. Ex-Pat 3. NY Men 0
So, ok, I know I can’t make blanket statements and call all NY men WHACK. Frankly, it would be unfair to the NY men out there who want to be or even are “good guys”. All I know is this: the bar has been raised. Things with Philippe may not go anywhere and they don’t have to. What he did was present an alternative. An alternative that maybe I didn’t think was out there or I even deserved. That I am worthy of someone who shows up when they say they will and respects the things that I value. Wow. What a concept. Isn’t that Being a Descent Human Being 101?
Maybe my “international-loving” friends WERE onto something. I guess I have always been a late bloomer.
Bonjour.Posted by Lisa Loveless
Well, here's a fucking tale as old as time for you. I used to work with this guy who I had an enormous crush on. I had only recently deboyfriended my ex and I was desperado for love.
This guy was funny, tall, charming and smart. Seeing him nearly every day did not hurt. He was also a toucher. You know, not in a bad way, not like your Uncle Frank (okay, my
Uncle Frank). Just like, he would touch your shoulder when he spoke to you or whatever. When you have a crush on someone, this is a nice thing.Naturally he had a serious girlfriend.When he and his girlfriend (fucking finally) un"liked" each other on Facebook, I immediately asked him out for coffee.
But here's what: Once he was available and we were like basically on a date, I was all, "Meh" about him. As it turns out, he's not funny but just obnoxious, he's kind of too
tall and too skinny, not charming but smarmy and not smart but just pretentious. Also, touching people when you speak to them is skeevy. In short - he is available...and therefore no longer appealing. Those people exist! They change entirely depending on their availability. Poor mother fuckers.Have you had this experience? TEELLLLLLLL me about it. No seriously, tell me. Email me or comment here.Posted by Havilah
So I was at a baptism last weekend. Shut up, I was! I do nice things sometimes. Shut up. Anyway, I was at this baptism (I was) and, in the time honored tradition of no-relation-single-people attending large family gatherings, I was introduced to the other single person there (who was under the age of 80). A breath of fresh fucking air in that situation, though, was that this guy was actually kind of gorgeous and, at first blush, friendly and normal.
So, I was introduced by our mutual friend and mother of the baby recently saved from Purgatory. We exchanged hello's and where-are-you-froms and so on. It was going okay. A couple awkward moments on my part, but all in all, not too shabby. I was, admittedly, a little nervous because this fellow was way better looking than I'd anticipated. So, okay, so I'm all, "What do you?" and "Where do you live?" and "Do you like it?" and blah blah blah showing interest and so on. And then, like 3 minutes in, POOF! The mother fucker just disa-fucking-ppeared! Moments later I discover he left. Just. Left!
Readers, I can tell you with certainty that I have never in all my years been so rapidly rebuffed. Not even a, "Nice to have fucking met you!" I could have died. Readers, I could. Have. Died.
So that happened. And trust that I will never wear that outfit again.
Posted by Havilah
Well, the deed
is done, readers. I feel less anxiety but otherwise no better. I'm questioning my decision, y'all. I am. I went into it with such a long list of reasons why this just wasn't right. But once I was actually facing him and saying the words, "I don't see a future here," I was only seeing all the good things and perfectly wonderful reasons to stick it out. And he said, "Well, I'm really bummed." He may as well have cried
!!! Oh, dearest readers, did I make a mistake? And what's more, if I did make a mistake, what do I do about it now?! Is it too late to say, "Just kidding!"? Or to say, "How about a trial period of like one more cup of coffee?" Or do I just stick with the decision and move on? Please tell me. Please?PS: He did pay for lunch, readers! He paid for lunch!!!!Posted by Havilah
Oh shit., readers I have to "end things" today (as in under an hour from now) with The Aged
. I want to vomit. I hate doing shit like this. What if he cries? Even worse, what if he doesn't give a shit at all?! I realize these are the extremes, but of course that's naturally what I expect to happen! Duh, readers! It's a rule! It's like if you watch a scary movie by yourself, you're going
to be murdered in your apartment that night. That's just a fucking law of nature!Oh the horror of this. I'm a fucking wreck, per usual. I'm nervous and have anxiety and want to throw up and just let the chunks just drip down my chin because I'm frozen with fear. This is the fucking worst, reader! It's the worst!Here is the plan:I am hoping to get away with just saying something along these line, "This just isn't right for me," or "I just don't see a future here" or something cliche like that. However, I have a bad feeling (of course) that I'm not going to get away without giving some better explanation than that. If "why?" is asked repeatedly or insistently I'm going to go with, "It's not really anything specific, I just don't feel a real connection here."
I am hoping against all hope this suffices. If not, then I'm just going to tell him the truth: "You're kind of shady and a lot of the stuff you've told me seems to be turning out to be untrue or questionable at best. You are a name dropper and a bit of a liar and those are, in my world (in which you are living), the two most egregious and heinous of crimes. I have come to find you to be false and more than a little bit fishy and dammit if you don't have an apartment in TriBeCa but instead live with your parents in Queens, then just say so
! No, I would not have pursued you if that were the case, but at least you wouldn't have been such a filthy, lying liar!" And then I shall grab my Prada bag (I don't have a Prada bag) and storm out, flipping my hair behind my shoulders on the way (my hair is in a bun).Please, dear BlogGod, please let this end with me saying, "I'm just not that into you," and him responding, "Well, that's too bad. Guess we'll both just move on, then." And then he pays for my lunch (JUUUST KIDDING!...sort of). Posted by Havilah