Category Archives: relationships

What we don’t tell.

elizabeth taylor james deanIsn’t it weird when you get to know enough about someone that you could blackmail them for life? To me, this is how you define a successful relationship: you’ve been together long enough where you know every weird thing about the other person and could ruin them but you don’t.

Are you tempted to gossip after a break-up? About what he or she really liked? And odd things they did? Perhaps your ex liked to bite their finger nails and collect the clippings. It’s just a guess. If you have respect for that person then you never tell the really intimate stuff. And I never do. Tempting as it is. Because I am actually not a terrible person. Despite everything you may believe or may have heard, I care about people and I like to help my friends and certain episodes of “The Simpsons” make me cry.

And as much as I talk about my dating and relationship experiences, I would never reveal the private stuff. You know, sex. Dad and mom, if you’re still reading my blog these are the sort of explosions you’re going to run into. Prepare for shrapnel. Close the Internet.  Continue reading

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Things about living with a MAN.

bachelorettes

Above: Laura prepping her boyfriend for a video we made for Hello Giggles, which you can watch here, but keep in mind it’s a satire about girls and their PERIODS. 

This post is brought to you by Laura Kadner. Enjoy:

 

Once upon a time, I lived with my boyfriend. We moved to the worst city in the world and got a tiny studio apartment. Sometimes it was awesome and sometimes it sucked. Here are some things I learned about living with a man:

1.) Try to get an apartment with at least two rooms. In my cohabitational experience, we lived in a studio apartment. Sometimes it’s nice to be able to go in one’s own space. In a studio apartment when you get in a fight or someone’s trying to work, you’re basically trapped.

 
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Smell ya later!

Max Landis and Almie Rose Apocalypstick

Trustworthy, honorable, sober, etc.

A few days ago, Max Landis shared something gross and fascinating with me. Naturally. He brought to my attention something I wasn’t aware existed and would probably be okay with never knowing existed.

I am talking about Pheromone Parties.

What is that? You may ask. Yourself. Where does that highway go to? I’m sorry, I have an affliction where I occasionally segue way into Talking Heads lyrics. But that’s not important right now. A Pheromone Party is where you go to meet someone you want to date/fall in love with/bang with a twist: BYOS — bring your own shirt. But before you bring it, you have to sleep it in for three nights in a row and then take it off and leave it sealed in a plastic bag (the longer the better). I hope I never feel like that plastic bag. Then you bring it to the party. And when that bag opens, that’s when it all goes down. To quote their website:

  1. Bags are placed on a table. Guests smell the bags at their leisure throughout the party.
  2. If a guest finds the smell attractive, they take a picture with the bag at a photographer station. These pictures are projected as a slide show on the wall at the party.
  3. If you see a picture of a guest you find attractive holding your number, this is the greenlight to talk to them. Haaaay.
Minty fresh!
As gross as I find this concept I also find it interesting. First of all, I think the last thing anyone needs is to be rejected for smelling the worst out of all of the smelly t-shirts. Also I’m glad I’m not single because if I were I would have to go to this and try it and report back. I’ll still go but I’m not bringing a dank t-shirt. Also I would cheat by rolling my tee around in a nice pumpkin pie, because apparently that’s a scent that men love. I read it in a study. With the candlestick. And Mrs. Peacock. But I can’t deny that I like my boyfriend’s t-shirts. I like how they smell. And that’s the whole point of this. We’re all gross and we like how we smell. Because we’re basically jerks who walk around smelling for love. And then when we smell something we like, we bang it. Or marry it.
Here is my favorite tip:

“Some things for women to consider:

Strippers get more tips when ovulating. It is not proven whether this is because of pheromones or just actions, but worth considering for coordinating your odor print phase.”

This entire party sounds awesome. Can someone please go to this and report back? Are you adventurous enough to go? Wouldn’t this be the best “…and that’s how I met your mother” story ever?

But most of all, what do you think  — is this idea legit? Do you like how your dude or lady smells?

Get thee to Cinefamily on April 5th.

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Boobs.

keyboard catMy cat Obo 

So I’m watching Whitney (yeah, so what, I watch Whitney sometimes, the parts with Whitney are funny, the part with her friends not so much) and the episode is about her wearing fake boobs and how her boyfriend reacts. The episode is also about her friends being annoying and stupid but again, the interesting part is about Whitney. So Whitney wears this bra that makes her A cup a double D. And considering that Whitney is already so thin and tall and pretty, this makes her look like even more of a model, but I don’t think we’re supposed to think that way. I think we’re supposed to see Whitney as an avergae modern day gal, like a foul mouthed Mary Tyler Moore for the twitter era.

P.S. Whitney.

So anyway Whitney now has big fake boobs and this intrigues her boyfriend. And Whitney is insulted because he says that when she wears them, it’s like he “gets to be with someone else.” Our dear heroine Whitney says something like, “Why can’t you accept me for who I am?” and “Admit it, you wish I had bigger boobs” and earlier in the episode when she first gets the bra she says, “Why does everyone hate women?” which I thought was a really great line. Her boyfriend retaliates that she wishes he were different too, like why can’t he be more like Don Draper? Because she likes Mad Men and talks about Jon Hamm a lot.

The point of the episode was, if we could change our partners, would we? Or do we like them for who they are, flawed and all? And also, do women need to have big boobs?

I’m at the point where I’m happy with my boobs, even though they’re Whitney sized. It’s all about the quest for abs anyway. I’ve heard from lots of guys (and not from me asking, just from life) that they don’t really care about the size of the boobs they just care about boobs in general. Boobs are great!

P.S. Boobs.

Anyway, using this show as an example, at what point did Whitney’s boyfriend realize, “Oh wait, my girlfriend has small boobs” and decide it wasn’t a big deal? In between the time when you started dating your sig other and the time when you became a long term item, when do you come to terms with something and accept it or decide that it needs to be changed or you’re done?

And no, this isn’t based on me or anything going on in my life. This is all Whitney.

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What is love? (Baby don’t hurt me.)

Magnificent t-shirt given to me by Moody Twin. I love this shirt. There’s nothing blatantly sexy about it, as in, there’s no nudity but I would never wear this to work.

How is everybody doing with their resolutions to be better selves? Remember, you can start NOW. Feel healthy and good on New Year’s Eve, not the week after! I am failing sort of miserably. I’m gonna go all Gwyneth next week and juice fast my life. My diet has been candy, cookies, and melted cheese. Totally delicious but my body is really mad at me. I’m tired all the time, even after a good night’s sleep.

I have to treat my stupid body better. Be better at being better. Is good? Yes, is good.

Love is treating yourself well. It’s about more than accepting who you are. It’s about embracing it and celebrating it. That’s real love. Then when you can do that you can love other people. If you can’t love other people, try cats first. Cats are great because they’re like little people but they can’t argue with you and they’re nice and soft.

Love IS having to say you’re sorry.

LOVE IS MAKING A NEW YEAR’S RESOLUTION AND ACTUALLY STICKING TO IT.

People love to ask, “How do you know if you’re in love?” If you have to ask, then you’re not. It’s not like, “do I have to sneeze?” where the answer is uncertain. There is an actual clear answer here.

And I just realized that while I have categories on this blog for “relationships” and “dating” and even “sex” I don’t have one for love. Does that mean something?

~~What is love to you, you guys? ~~ ***~~***

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How I met my boyfriend on Google+.

This isn’t me and my boyfriend but you can totally pretend it is, I’m fine with that.

Google+ is great for posting stuff that you’re too embarrassed to post on twitter and facebook, since no one uses it. What is the sound of one hand clapping? Google+. Where do good statuses go to die? Google+. Where’s the best place to hide a dead body? Google+. And so forth.

So who would have ever thought that Google+ would help me find my boyfriend? Most people don’t even know what Google+ is. I explain that it’s like Facebook if no one used Facebook. You connect with people, post statuses, and you would use it to procrastinate if it weren’t so horribly boring.

But that’s not important right now.

My friend posted a status of a ridiculous iphone cover that looked like real sushi. I wrote about it on Hello Giggles, but that’s not what this story is about. And now I’m hungry. Why does everything bad happen to me? Anyway. He posted this photo of this sushi phone and I commented on how awesome it was and then found other awesome things on that website and posted those on his Google…circle…wall…whatever, as well.

Then a message from someone else popped up. Because Google+ is as dead as any graveyard, the bones of interactions past still remain. Here is exactly what I saw:

“Is this the Almie that went to Emerson for a little while back in ’03? I think I may know you.”

Rather than say something like, “No you must be thinking of another Almie who went to Emerson in ’03” I decided not to be a sarcastic jerk for once and responded that yes, it is the same Almie:

“You’l [sic] have to forgive me, my time at Emerson is a blur. Did we have the same classes or something?

 Fucking suave, Uncle Almie.

I want to add that my time at Emerson was very brief and very blurry. I was going through a serious depression at the time. We’re talking Kirsten Dunst, can’t bathe for herself, “It tastes like ashes” Melancholia depressed. I was there for one semester. I did manage to be pretty involved in the community. I auditioned for and got one of the two newscaster roles for the SNL Weekend Update type show EVVY Update to be aired on the Emerson school channel. We would report on what students were doing for the EVVYs which was some kind of student run award show for students and I don’t remember what EVVYs stand for or what we actually did but I do remember that Chloe’s dad was kind enough to film a “Congrats to the EVVY winners!” clip for the show, that I’m wondering if they ever used, and Chloe’s dad has a secret bathroom in his office, where the bathroom door looks like a wall and you don’t know it’s a door until he presses it in and then you’re like, “Holy shit, Chloe’s dad is Batman.”

But that’s not important right now.

I also managed to get on the writing staff of the comedy magazine. It was here that I met my friend Dave Horwitz — but I don’t remember us being friends at all. Years later we connected back in LA (via MySpace, MY LIFE IS THE INTERNET) and he told me, “Don’t you remember me? We were on the comedy magazine together.”

I blinked.

“…We sat next to each other every week.”

Blink.

“I saw you doodling pigs wearing top hats.”

“Oh yeah!! I remember those!”

My point is, I sat next to this guy every week for months and I didn’t remember him at all. This is important to the story. The story of how I met my boyfriend on Google+ not how I met Dave Horwitz on MySpace. That’s a good story too, but I kind of just told it. Oops.

So. My future boyfriend just told me that he remembered me from Emerson and I told him, basically, “Who the fuck are you?” [“Did we have classes together?”] He said:

“I don’t think so, actually. I think it was even vaguer than that. Like we were both commuter students and met at a commuter event or something maybe…”

I wasn’t a commuter student. Like, not even close. I decided it was time to kick this shit into full gear. It was time to take this to Facebook.

I contacted him on facebook and we exchanged flirty messages back and forth, the kind where I would be giddy to see that little “1” in my inbox and I would ask my friend Katie, “How should I respond??” and she would say something and I would ignore it and then do whatever I wanted.

So we arranged to meet. We met at a trendy wine bar on the border of Los Feliz/Silver Lake/Narnia where the bartenders had old timey barbershop quartet mustaches and the patrons were loud and recorded themselves having fun on their iphones. We had a wonderful first date, and I will tell this story at some point, if anyone cares.

A few dates later, he confessed that we had indeed met before. We’ve since determined that it was likely outside a showing of “Lost In Translation” near my dorm. Apparently, we stopped to chat and we even exchanged numbers. And I don’t remember this. By the time he called me, I had already dropped out and moved back to LA, which I told him on a message I left him. And again, I don’t remember any of this. But through the magic of the internet, we found each other again.

Aw you guys, right??

So without Google+ I never would have (re?) met this great guy. Thus, I can never leave Google+. I will go down with this ship.

How did you meet your sig other? Do you believe in fate?

Boom.

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RED FLAGS.


See that guy back there? That’s a red flag.Those posters? Red flag. My friend Sara? Not a red flag.

Someone, I think it was a gentleman named Robin, wanted to know if I could write about spotting those elusive red flags that eventually destroy a relationship.

Some of these are obvious to everyone but you. Like maybe your new boyfriends eats live lizards and calls everyone “Mommy.” That’s a red flag. Sometimes you notice this behavior but you justify it. “Lizards have LOTS of protein you guys.” Suuuure.

Let’s talk about the subtle ones.

Is your new partner forthcoming with you? When you ask them about their job history or their family, do they suddenly get quiet and stare off into the distance and say, “Sometimes the lone star is the one that shines brightest.”? Or maybe they’ll say something like, “Yeah I did stuff and my family exists.” Both of those answers suck. You don’t need their work resume or their family tree, but something like, “I used to work in fashion and have a brother named Jeff and my parents are dead” is just fine.

Do they freak out if you ask to use their computer or phone? Some people don’t like other people to touch their things, fine. But do they try to hide these objects from you? When you’re out in public and their phone rings, do they give it a worried look and then when you ask them, “What’s wrong?” they say, “Oh nothing, it’s just my parents” and you’re like, “Your parents are dead” and they’re like, “Yeah, iPhones suck, right?” What is it that they don’t want you to see? If it’s their laptop it’s probably porn, and that’s okay. Just because someone looks at porn doesn’t mean that they don’t love you or don’t want to be with you. It’s nothing to freak out about, unless it gets to the point where it interferes with your daily routine lives.

They mention their ex constantly. If you ask them about their last relationship, you’re going to want to hear something like, “My last relationship was a year ago. Great guy, no bitterness, it just didn’t work out because of long distance/wanting different things/they got really ugly” or whatever. What you don’t want to hear is this story when you didn’t even ask. What you don’t want to hear is, “Hey, what do you want on your pizza?” and the response is, “My ex Rachel loved pepperoni so no pepperoni because Rachel would eat it all the time and I don’t like Rachel, I mean pepperoni.” If they mention their ex more than, say, 3 times in your first week of dating, they’re probably not ready to date.

They ask to borrow money/things and never pay them/give them back. People forget, that happens. But if you gently remind them and they say you’ll get it in __ amount of days and you don’t and they never bring it up again, that is not cool. Money ruins relationships of all kinds. Maybe you guys do a thing where one of you pays for drinks and then the next time the other one does, or whatever kind of casual thing, and that’s okay. That’s very different from, “Hey babe can I borrow three hundred dollars?” and then they disappear for a month and never bring it up again. That’s spooky. Often this starts out innocently enough with, “Can you buy this gum for me, is that cool?” but it can end with, “Baby I sold your Lexus, is that cool?” It is not cool, Charles. Not cool.

They only call you late at night to “hang out.” They don’t call you to hang out during the day, or invite you to public places, or to meet their friends. Unless they are a vampire, one of those “True Blood” vampires not the “Twilight” vampires, then this basically means that they want you for sex and nothing else. Nothing is going to come from this. I’m sure you heard stories about how, “My friend Chelsea’s friend Sarah started seeing this guy Zach and his brother Franco started seeing her and it was strictly a friends with benefits thing but now they’re married and living in Milan!” No. No. Sit down. Stop giving us hope that this will ever happen. This might happen if you start out as friends. Because at least there is something to build on. But the chances of this turning into something real, of this person actually caring about you when you’re not in their apartment at 3 Am, is about 3%.

I’m sure there are plenty more. What are your red flags?

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