Category Archives: dating

My flirting secrets.

Oct

2012

These are some of my precious flirting secrets that I actually use. If you were to see me at a party you would catch me doing these techniques and I would be, Hank-sitting-on-the-toilet-Walt-Whitman-mind-blown, busted. But I give them to you, so use them well and with intelligence.

These are tips on how to start a conversation with someone. Smiling, with breeziness, walk up to them (not when they’re in the middle of an intense conversation with someone) and ask them if they know “Tyler.” Everyone of a certain generation knows someone named Tyler. However, if the person in question looks older or says “No” then you say, “I’m sorry, I meant Ryan.” They will absolutely know a Ryan. Let them take the initiative. If they say, “Oh, Ryan Marsh? That guy’s a dick.” The you just nod and agree. Do not offer any last names or opinions about Tyler or Ryan until they do. Men or women can use these names, but if you’d rather approach a girl with a girl’s name, use Laura or Amy. This tactic is purely to initiate conversation, so you better have something prepared after “Do you know Tyler?”

To figure out if the person you’re talking to has a boyfriend (or girlfriend), casually slip into conversation (or lead with it), “I’m sorry, this is so random, but is your girlfriend named Anna?” (or whatever name you want.) If they say, “Yes” then you have your answer. If they say, “No, I don’t have a girlfriend” then you have their answer. If they say “No” but don’t offer a name, try a different name or say something like, “Really? She looks just like this girl I went to school with named Anna.” At this point they will confirm whether or not they have a girlfriend. If they don’t, laugh and say, “Oh my god I had you totally confused with someone else, clearly. Oops. Well hi, I’m Jayne” (or whatever your real name is) and then chat anyway.

You have to realize that these tips are dependent on you being able to talk to people. An initial moment of awkwardness is totally okay and acceptable, but after that, you’ve gotta be able to work it like you’re James Bond swimming out of the ocean to reveal a tuxedo underneath your scuba suit.

Don’t tell anyone I told you this.

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Who’s really reading this blog?

Oct

2012

I write about my dating life. Sometimes you may even wonder, “Is this about me?” And I’ve been starting to wonder, “Are any of these guys I’ve written about actually reading this?”

So, indulge me. If we’ve ever:

— Been in a relationship

— Dated

— Been on a date

— Had sex

— Had any sort of sexual contact

— Made out

— Kissed

— Flirted

I want you to comment and let me know that you’re reading this. You don’t have to use your name. You can be anonymous. I would prefer if you used some sort of nickname that hints to me who you are. But do whatever you want.

This is an experiment that could go really well, or really poorly. Go for it.

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FUCK YOU, KOREA MAN.

Oct

2012

This post was written last Friday around 10:30 PM.

Have you felt that moment when you look up someone you had a crush on and they have a girlfriend and live in fucking KOREA I AM SO FUCKING LONELY? What the hell and why do I ruin everything? This was in college and I had my moment and I didn’t resist the shining adventure and we had sex in my bathroom while my friend was sleeping on the couch, it was a studio apartment, I’m not really sure what you want from me, and it was New York (!) and I was young and blonde, I mean, that’s just going to happen. He wanted me, I wanted him, and then, the way things happen in New York City when you’re on your own for the first time, he became a bisexual drug addict and left school.

AND, BECAUSE HE DELETED HIS FACEBOOK ACCOUNT, I NEVER HEARD OF HIM AGAIN. Until now. Until this sad moment, when I stuffed my face with meat and cheese and chocolate and then almost did Wii fit but stopped to look up this ASSHAT on Google and now I’m sitting here in a push-up bra and sweatpants BECAUSE THAT’S HOW I WORK OUT, FUCK YOU, and I discover that he still exists, has a girlfriend, and lives in Korea. This is the same boy who once adored me. The same boy who once came into class, excited, and said, “Last night was crazy. I slept in an arm chair man,” the same boy who couldn’t afford to buy a GAP shirt so instead he went the a thrift store across the street and bought a GAP shirt from there.

FUCK YOU, DUDE. FUCK YOU FOR MOVING ON WITH YOUR LIFE AND BEING HAPPY AND MOVING TO KOREA. Even though I only remembered your existence about 20 minutes ago. How could you do this to me? How could I let you do this to me? What is this? Why am I so sad and lonely and pathetic and undesirable to those I desire? DAMN IT. WHY DO YOU LIVE IN KOREA???

HERE’S A PICTURE OF MAYOR STUBBS, FUCK YOU.

AND FUCK THIS, I’M GOING TO A PARTY.

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Finding out true love is blind.

Sep

2012

There was a big song that came out a few years ago called “Finding Out True Love Is Blind.” Remember that? It was a guy doing his best Mick Jagger voice singing about different kinds of girls that he was going to do things to. The summer that came out, I had a goal, comrades. And that goal was to make out with the lead singer of that band. “I can do this,” I thought. “He isn’t even super attractive.”

But I never did. That would have required for me to actually do things, like go to their shows. That’s effort, man.

I don’t want to make out with this guy anymore, but if I don’t, that means I’ve failed. So someone needs to help me find this guy and we can make out and then I’ll know I’ve succeeded in life.

If I find a man attractive, I will go up to him and just tell him. If someone says something mean about me on the Internet, I’ll thank them for just talking about me.

What do they mean by “love is blind”? Is that a nice way of saying, “It’s okay to fall in love with an ugly person”? I am always paranoid that the person I fall for is attractive only to me. But why the hell should I care what my friends think? And I also worry that the friends of the someone I like think that I’m a Picasso Guernica era drawing. It shouldn’t matter. And it doesn’t. And all of my friends think I have good taste in men anyway. Except for that one time I liked a guy who had classic, to quote a friend, “Douche face.”

Are love and appearance tied together?

Next week I am doing my first Apocalypstick giveaway. I’ll be posting the prize on my Facebook and Instagram. Come back on Monday to enter!

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Which guy are you?

Sep

2012

I’ve dated a lot of gentlemen and scoundrels, and I’ve come up with a list of strangely specific types of guys that surprisingly apply to everyone. Or almost everyone. Here are some of the guys I’ve dated. Ladies, can you relate? And sirs, read this and ask yourself: which guy am I? And yes, some guys can be a combination of these.

The Classic Schmosby

Named after the character of Ted Mosby on “How I Met Your Mother” this is the guy who says, “I love you” on the first or second date. Most of the time, this is a stupid thing to do, because you’re draping a blanket weaved of awkward and creepy over your date. There are exceptions, yes. But do not think you are one of them.

The Sad Seinfeld

This is the guy who is a standup comedian/improv performer/comedy writer/all of those who thinks that this date is about making you laugh. At first, his observations seem witty and well placed, but a few hours later you realize you want to punch him right in the dick.

The Romney

This guy lies/exaggerates about everything, is unsure why you’re not honored by his presence, and despite having way more money than you will ever see, will go out of his way to make sure you split the bill or pay for all of it.

The Bro

This type of guy thinks he is still college, or maybe actually is (but a big university, not a liberal arts college). He made no plans for your evening aside from playing video games with his roommate. If you don’t want to do that, he’s totally up for making out in his car. But he has to move the car after an hour or he’ll get towed, because he didn’t want to pay for a parking space. Also his car smells like Doritos. But there are no Doritos in the car.

The L.A. Douche

Thinks he’s famous. Thinks he’s attractive. Thinks you need to know. Thinks you are going to have sex with him. Think he’ll be surprised.

The Guy Who Gives You Oral Sex Through Your Jeans

True story. What the fuck are you doing, guy? Is this really how you think it works? Or do you think you’re so good at it that denim stands no chance against your Jedi skills? I was so puzzled, I didn’t know what to do. It’s like suddenly, someone asked me to do calculus. Just, no idea. Not even sure where to begin.

Okay, your turn. Maybe I’ll make a part two.

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Swept.

Aug

2012

Photo by Joseph Szabo.

I want someone to sweep me off my feet, the way Romney sweeps all questions about his tax returns under the rug. Fuck it, I am a romantic at heart. I’ve tried to tell myself that I’m not. Today, I am coming forth and admitting my truth: I like romance, I like to be romanced, and I love the fuck out of candles. Someone adore me. Really, truly adore me. Because we all deserve that. We should all have that experience, of being Tears For Fears-style head over heels and have it being reciprocated. That’s the key, you don’t want to be the creep who is in like with someone who has no interest. Yeah, that sucks, but you have to find a way to accept the situation and walk away. The sooner you learn how to do this, the better. I found that the only way to get over someone is to find someone else to get under. I don’t mean that in a sexual way, but if you want to interpret it as that, go ahead, why not.

I’m sick of all this hipster cynicism. I like looking at photos of people who are in love. As long as they’re not ugly, I mean, let’s not get carried away. I like when people do adorable stupid shit like surprise their loved one with a Doctor Who painting or whatever the fuck the kids like these days. I like looking at photos of weddings and I like reading the stories of how when the bride and groom first saw each other, they couldn’t speak, because they were so overwhelmed by their feelings of complete love and joy. I’m really sick of the whole attitude of, “Fuck it, we’re all going to die one day, nothing lasts forever, and everything has an expiration date.” Is that really how you want to live your life? Wouldn’t you rather be happy?

Someone back me up on this. Or argue with me, that’s fine too.

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