Tag Archives: dating in los angeles

Who You Gonna Call? Obviously Not Me, Because You Ghosted Out

When I heard about men just “ghosting out” on my friends, I figured, ignorantly, something must have happened that caused it, or that it they weren’t giving me the full story. How does a guy just disappear, never to be heard from again? Unlike that time I had a legitimate crush on Casper the Friendly Ghost, aka DEVON SAWA, I don’t fancy men that peace out like they’ve crossed over to the afterlife. That’s pish-posh. It’s like hearing stories of women finding their husbands and boyfriends on Tinder. And by “finding” them, I don’t mean they found “the one.” I mean they were already “the one,” and they were on Tinder looking for a side chick.

(That’s actually happened to people I know. DAMMIT.)

So I should have known better than to think it could happen to everyone else but me, but alas, there I was, thinking it couldn’t possibly. And then it did.

Twice in a row, actually. Little back story on both:

Guy 1: We’ll call him… MM. He was on a popular reality show, and I was setup through a friend. He seemed normal/nice enough, given being on television. (I’ve had really odd/obnoxious situations with people on TV.) He was professionally successful, and my friend told me he was a nice, standup guy. And frankly, it was the first time I was excited to go on a date! I didn’t feel dread; I didn’t feel like it was a chore. I was happy to go out and learn more about him.

I was impressed by the fact that he reached out to me almost immediately after my friend gave him my number, and I was really thrilled that he called me on the phone to organize the date. Talking on the phone these days is so rare. People are scared to pick up the phone — I used to hate talking on the phone, but now it’s like I crave it. It’s a more sincere connection than just sitting and texting with someone. You have to actually pay attention when you talk to someone on the phone.

For the date, he picked me up, took me out for drinks… and that’s when things got a little odd.

About halfway through the date, I excused myself to text my girlfriends in the bathroom: “This isn’t going well. He isn’t into me.” He didn’t do anything that would make me think he didn’t like me, unless you count the fact that he asked me one question about myself (maybe) in a matter of two hours. Most of the time was spent talking about his professional life, his personal life, his family, his time on reality TV,  and somewhat talking down to me about sports. (He wouldn’t have known that I know a lot about the subject — he never asked.)

It’s pretty typical of men in LA to sit and gloat about themselves, and I feel sad that it’s a rare trait to find someone who seems interested in what I have to say. Some of you might be thinking, “but your job is to ask people questions for a living. Maybe you weren’t giving him a chance?” I have to say that, if anything, this makes me more aware of other people and how they act, react and their body language — none of which seemed to express interest in me.

Anyway, I was relieved when we got the check and decided to go. I was bummed that he wasn’t interested, but I tried to shake it off. When we got back to my apartment, we sat in his car for a few minutes listening to Big Sean and Drake and laughing (I equate this to men reciting poetry for women back in the 1600s), then he got out, opened my door and walked me up to the porch area, WHICH I LOVE! Because that’s chivalry, people. Anyway, no smooching happened (like you care? oy)  but he did ask me out for the next night, much to my surprise. And I thought, “see, Kirbie! You have to stop writing people off. Maybe you’re meant to go out with him and a real connection will happen!” (I clearly have been watching too much of The Bachelorette.)

And then I never heard from him again.

Ever. again. Bye, Felicia status.

Guy 2: I have known this guy for a few years, because he was my former neighbor. He was married. He is not married anymore.

While that is all true, the real reason I connected with him was because OF TINDER! Sue me. He was cute. I wanted to go on dates. You know, put myself out there, embrace the law of attraction, all that jazz.

He was the first person that came up in my matches. So I asked my roommate if I should “heart” him or not, and with her encouragement, went for it. What did I have to lose? If it wasn’t a match, he’d never know. And I felt comfortable, given I knew him (albeit not very well).

The short of it is that we went on two dates, which I thought went well. No spark immediately, but I wasn’t trying to rush anything. After our second date, I told him to call me the next day, and he laughed and joked it was “too soon.” Surely no dude would openly say that out loud and NOT BE KIDDING, right?

Well, joke it was not — because he kissed me goodbye that Saturday night, and I never heard from him again.

The end!

The point I initially was going to make was: don’t be a coward! Politely tell a woman you’re not into her if you aren’t. But I guess that’s weird, and quite assuming on your part to think she would even care. Given my interest level in both guys, I was confused, but I wasn’t devastated to not hear from them again. But part of me is curious as to why I never heard from MM, especially since he made the effort to invite me out for the next day, and nothing terrible or deal-breaking happened on the Neighbor Boy dates.

Granted, I could have said something that they didn’t like, or they could have been turned off by my weave…? (RIP Ashley!) (Actually, they definitely had no idea about Ashley because she was put in flawlessly. She was undetectable.)

So what is my point? I don’t know. Maybe it’s to ask what you think is appropriate in this situation: do you ignore and avoid? Or are you upfront about everything so there’s no questions? Is blowing people off soooooo 2000 and late? I want to know what it all means!

When you ghost out on a woman, what’s your reasoning?

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You’re Doing It Wrong: Asking Out a Woman

I’m jogging to Starbucks after my morning workout around 7:30 AM. I’m in tight compression pants and a long-sleeved Under Armour top that has thumb holes, which makes me feel like I’m training for The Hunger Games. The exact kind of motivation I need to jump-start my (previous) morning ritual of hitting the gym.

My gym is a good eight minute jog from my apartment, so instead of drive, I figure I should work in the extra cardio, take in the fresh air, and get my mind clear for the day. Working out is therapy for me — I can outline everything I need to achieve for the day, meditate on my goals and give thanks for what I’ve been given. And I can daydream about going on tour, developing TV shows and traveling the world to my iTunes soundtrack. (This particular morning, I am playing Taylor Swift’s 1989 on repeat — its been out approximately nine hours.)

As I get half a block from Starbucks, I stop the jog and start to walk. That’s when a black car pulls up beside me. A gentleman waves his hand at me. Oh, this guy needs directions. His mouth is moving while “just take me home!” in Taylor’s signature shout is being pulsed into my ears. Out come the earbuds.

“Hi! So do you live in the Beverly Hills area?”

“Yeah.” (I lie. I’m adjacent. And I’m not telling you where I live.) “But Beverly Hills is about three minutes west of here.” I point to where he needs to be.

“Oh yeah, I know that. I was just asking if you live over here.”

“No, I workout here, so I jog to the gym in the morning.”

“Gotcha, that’s cool. I just moved here, I mean to Beverly Hills, from Marina Del Rey.”

This guy looks harmless, but I’ve fully realized that this isn’t a directional intervention. He’s trying to figure out how to ask me out. It’s too early for this. I’m not caffeinated. 

“That’s cool…” I keep silent. When you’re quiet, people are almost forced to fill the silence. I’m eager to hear how this is going to turn out.

“Do you jog a lot?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s great!” (He looks into his passenger seat for something — I’m assuming his phone or a business card.) “Do you mind if I get your information? I’m looking for a jogging buddy.”

Sooooooooooooo here’s the thing. I know women complain that men aren’t spontaneous enough. We say, “if you find us attractive, approach us! Ask us out! Take initiative!” I have said all of these things. But usually, it’s assumed that we want those things to happen after we’ve given you several social cues, like looking into your eyes from across the room or touching your arm or giving you a hard time. Or hell, kissing you in the middle of a dance floor. It doesn’t matter how, but the point is that we’re giving you the go-ahead to approach us. Sometimes (mostly in movies), a guy will approach a woman at a bar (think Ryan Gosling to Emma Stone in Crazy Sexy Love) and he charms his way into a date with her, and she initially acts uninterested, but then it all works out. Those instances are not completely inconceivable, but they’re the exception, not the rule.

Driving up next to me because you saw me jogging (from who knows where?) and asking to be my jogging partner is not idiotic — it’s unsettling. Why, you ask? Besides the obvious “who the hell are you and how long have you been watching me?” factor, jogging is such a weird thing to ask a woman to do within two minutes of speaking to her. I politely declined to give out my information, and told him jogging was a personal thing for me. And I’m not lying — it is. I like to listen to my music and keep to myself when I work out. I’ve been on hikes with several dudes, and those were fun and all, but it’s also semi-embarrassing going on a first date with a guy and you’re literally about to slide down the hard trail at Runyon and you’re out of breath and the guy is asking you questions about your family and your life pre-LA, and you’re sweating like a maniac. (I swear that some men use this as a gauntlet tactic to see if I can hang or not.) I enjoy the outdoors, I like working out, and I like adventure, but can’t you save this for date three or four? Once the basics are out-of-the-way?

I feel bad for men, because unfortunately, women have to worry about things like being kidnapped, raped and stalked. Not saying men don’t deal with these things, but statistics show women are more likely to be in danger of them. So approaching a woman you don’t know, in a car, on the side of the road, behind a building, and asking her to come close enough to the car “to get her info” is most definitely not how you should try to ask her out. (I know my mother is reading this, and no, Mom, I stood about eight feet away from his car. You’re welcome.)

Men, I want you to approach women and ask them out. But I want you to be smart about it. Don’t ask to be her jogging buddy. Don’t follow her in your car like a weirdo. And don’t ask her where she lives within a minute of seeing her.

Messages I’ve Received on OKCupid

Guys. I’ve been SO INTO MTV PROGRAMMING lately! What is wrong with me? I’ve been an MTV baby from the get-go, but there were a few rough years around the time I graduated college. And now they’re back on track with this sh*tstorm of a show, Are You The One?, which is actually genius. It seems scripted at some points, but I like the premise and wish I had come up with it. Not to mention, the revamped version of The Real World is complete madness, which makes fabulous television. I just wish they would have kept the old school docu-style cameras a la the Hawaii season. Side note: COLIN AND AMAYA FOR-EV-ER. (I know there will be people reading this who won’t know who either of these folk are, and for that I will cry a single tear.)

That had nothing to do with anything. Moving on…

Alright ladies, what’s the worst pickup line you’ve heard? Have one in mind? Okay, take that, then imagine the guy peed himself while delivering it to you, while wearing a shirt with a naked picture of himself on it. That’s what it feels like when you get messages from (most) men on OKCupid: it’s more second-hand embarrassment anyone should have to deal with.

OKCupid is free. You get what you pay for. Which is, in fact, nothing, except for these offensive messages. Some are offensive in the sense of being vulgar and foul, but most are offensive because the grammar is so poor, the try-hards are in fact TRYING THE HARDEST, and overall it’s just a disappointing experience. But it’s free, so you feel like you haven’t lost anything. (Except your dignity…) So you forge ahead and hope someone fun, charismatic and maybe even attractive comes along! But don’t hold your breath.

I won’t get off of the site because I know that the messages would make great fodder for Mentervention. Without further ado, here’s what to do on OKCupid, apparently, if you’re a man. You can thank me later, dudes!

IF AT FIRST YOU DON’T SUCCEED Email incessantly, like these guys! Nothing is a bigger turn on than unappreciated persistence, self-doubt, and essentially talking to yourself.

Guy A

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Guy B

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“If you’re interested, please say hi.” Oh, thank you! I didn’t realize that was the next step when you were actually interested in conversing with someone. You’ve shed new light on this site for me. And “if you were still interested in getting to know each other”? Not sure how I gave you that impression, as I literally DIDN’T WRITE ANYTHING.

Guy C

ImageThis is not an application for The Bachelorette. A short paragraph would suffice. Also, “not sure how this online stuff works?” We have bigger fish to fry here.

INSULT ME! Reverse psychology, right? (Or make a craptastic joke that doesn’t get you anywhere.)

Screen shot 2014-03-13 at 8.26.40 PM

I’ve always wanted to go on a date where the dude tells me ahead of time he might not be attracted to me. Very reassuring! 

DEGRADE ME! Women love being talked dirty to before ever meeting in the flesh. It’s like a sex hotline, only with the written word! (aka ICQ chat rooms circa 1998.) 

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If I wanted to play a game on the internet, I’d accept all of those Farmville requests on Facebook.

TELL ME HOW I WILL FEEL because you clearly know the depths of my soul, all based on my online dating profile and a bunch of idiotic questions I decided to answer.      

Screen shot 2014-03-13 at 8.36.48 PM

CREEP ME THE F-CK OUT.

Screen shot 2014-03-13 at 8.43.40 PMI imagine Jeffrey Dahmer saying something similar to that first message to his victims.

That’ll do for now, but more excerpts would be riddled with spelling and grammatical errors, condescending tones, and simple hellos which, as you can probably guess, don’t elicit any responses.                                      

If any of you have actually found more-than-decent, spectacular men to date on this site, hats off. In the meantime, I’m going to keep collecting these messages for more posts.                      

The Perfect Date

I went on a perfect date. In Los Angeles.

Yes, ’tis true. And at the risk that this person is reading this right now… I’m sorry for putting this out on the internet. But I cannot NOT share it. It was, in fact, a perfect date! GREAT JOB. I know you didn’t think it was, but it was. And in a life where I have had my fair share of cheeseball pickup lines and idiotic “dates” (if you want to call them that), this needs to be documented.

Dearest readers, before you start to roll your eyes (as visions of red roses and birds draping me in a gown come to mind), slow your roll. This is a very 2014-version of perfect.

Read: it wasn’t perfect at all.

I’ve been putting myself out there in terms of dating, because 5 years in Los Angeles without even a short-term relationship has been kind of a drag. It’s been hilarious and tragic. I’ve received the absolute corniest, cringe-worthy messages that I wish I could relinquish from this brain of mine. But this was the first date I’ve been on in a few months. (Since the sociopath incident of 2013…)

HERE WE GO!

1. IT DIDN’T GO ACCORDING TO PLAN

Usually, on dates, you end up meeting at a restaurant, separately, so you can plan your escape if the dude totally sucks, has an annoying laugh, looks like he might murder you later, or won’t stop talking about pilot season. However, it’s fairly tame. You sit awkwardly and order, while trying to get to “know” one another. Drinking can (and should) be involved. It can drag on forever, usually. But in this case, he came to pick me up. (This was enough to elicit an astounding “whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa” from several of my girlfriends.)

We headed to the destination — Lucques on Melrose. For whatever reason, the map and the GPS said it was on Melrose Place, so as we drove up and down the street, it was impossible to find. Clearly.

We ended up at this little Russian place that looked like a house on the inside. Yes, Russian. Probably not the ideal first date fare, but the restaurant was vintage-inspired, with beautiful light fixtures, amazing vodka (it was Russian, so it better had been!) and delicious, savory food. If you are up for an adventure, it’s across from Fig & Olive: Mari Vanna. (PS: Order the Salmon Blinis, Potato Dumplings, and Beef Stroganoff; the Honey cake was decadent, and the seaberry martini was refreshing and light.)

We’d both never had Russian food before (well, legit Russian anyway), so we were both hesistant upon first walking in. But we warmed up to it. It could have been a complete disaster, but our Russian waitress was dominant authoritative (honestly, I would have been terrified of her if she wasn’t so helpful and funny), and the atmosphere was perfect to get to know each other without feeling too uptight or stuffy.

It didn’t go according to plan, but it made for an experience we both hadn’t had before.

2. IT WAS ON A SUNDAY

Part II to “it didn’t go according to plan” was that this date was supposed to transpire on a Saturday, but he got stuck in Big Bear and wasn’t able to make it back in time. I figured he’d want to plan for later the next week, (and honestly thought he was just trying to get out of the date at the time) but then he asked me out for Sunday. Sunday isn’t your typical “date night”, but my mantra lately has been WHY THE HELL NOT? So Sunday it was.

This actually benefitted us on many levels. There was zero traffic. (I know, so LA to say.) And the bar we swung by after dinner wasn’t jam-packed. It was full because it was karaoke night, but we were able to sit and talk some more without having to yell to be heard. And the karaoke crowd made for some built-in comic relief.

3. THERE WAS NO KISSING INVOLVED

When you get to a certain age, it isn’t taboo to kiss on a first date. (Or then some.) Which frankly? It sucks, because you lose the romance and the allure and THE WHIMSY when it comes to first dates. I was talking about high school a few weeks ago, and how I  thought my high school (eh, right-after-high school) boyfriend was the most romantic I ever had. And there were a myriad of reasons: we got to know each other as friends before we started dating, and he courted me for while (after wanting to kill each other for an extended period of time — funny how that works out). So when we finally went on a first date and we had our first kiss, it was a HUGE DEAL. Butterflies, giddiness, the whole she-bang. I hadn’t felt that way in any of my most recent relationships, and sure as hell hadn’t felt that way since living in LA. Either I wasn’t attracted to the guy and God forbid he get anywhere close to my face, or I was attracted, and they kissed me right off the bat (and were rather forward about it, too). They never left something to be desired, and I was never on my toes. I never thought, “I can’t tell if he’s into me or not?”

This guy didn’t even hold my hand until walking me to my front door at the end of the night, and when I thought I might get a kiss goodnight — which I wouldn’t have minded, to be honest — he went for a hug and went on his way. I knew we were going to see each other again, because verbalized his interest in me, but it left me wanting more, and kept me on my toes.

So see? It wasn’t perfect. I’m sure he probably was worried that it wasn’t going to plan. But it was lovely.

Some of you are probably thinking “is this guy a genius or something?” Yes. I’m pretty sure he is, because apparently he knows just how to play it. And what I didn’t mention is that before the first date, we had a little coffee meetup just to see if there was any initial interest. Kind of like a pre-interview or something. And this Type A woman loves preparation, so it was completely up my alley.

EXTRA: SOMEONE SENT ME A DRINK

This is completely irrelevant, but at dinner, some guy at the restaurant sent me a drink. Naturally, I told the waitress I didn’t order it — like an oblivious idiot — so she literally had to say, “it’s compliments of a man here in the restaurant.” It was completely shocking, but validating, too. I couldn’t have planned that shiz better myself. Cha-ching!

So remember that not everything has to go according to plan. There’s beauty in the imperfections. And for the love of God, play hard to get!

Things You Need Not Do If You’re Trying to Take Me on a Date

As my irritation with the male population continues, I have to remind myself that I am actually attracted to men and that, most of the time, they’re just so darn loveable! I usually remind myself of this by looking at a picture of Harry Styles.

S’CUTE. SOOOO CUTE.

So why would I be irritated, you ask? (Have you read this blog before?) I mean, perhaps I am hard to please, sure. But after discussing some qualms with my coworker today, I realized that I am in the right about these irritations. 

THINGS YOU NEED NOT DO IF YOU ARE TRYING TO DATE ME, SON.*

(*Or anyone, really.)

1. Send a cryptic message about who you are

If I dont know you/barely know you, it is not in your best interest to message me with “Hi, It’s Ben.” Ben WHO? The kid I had a crush on in 4th grade? My brother’s best friend? Who the eff are you? This first communicative message would be the ideal time to identify yourself. Therefore, if you are messaging me to ask me out, please indicate how we met — and immediately. A “Hi, It’s Ben, I met you at that Nylon party with Jennifer two weeks ago,” should suffice. Identifying how we met and where is always a great option. That way, if I still don’t remember you, I’m the real a-hole.

2. Ask me out to lunch

I am not a man, but are you trying to put yourself in the no bone zone? (Not like that is going to happen, get a grip.) If I agree to lunch with you, it’s because I do not find you attractive or I feel like you may be homosexual. Nothing wrong with either of those, but it definitely means I am not trying to see the relationship progress past chatting over a sandwich for 30 minutes. Also, I am not trying to drink at lunch, and sometimes you need a cocktail to endure a first date.

There have been way too many men, in general, asking women to go to lunch for a first date. (Polling the office, obviously.) Do people take lunches these days? This is a foreign concept to me. And any lunch I do take is not going to spent trying to get to know someone, unless that person ends up being a new employer or is discussing a business venture. Or one of my parents.

*general note: while I do not take lunch because I am usually working, I do get the opportunity… but I don’t typically because the valet situation at the studio is obnoxious*

ANYWAY, if you expect to ‘wow’ someone in a 30 minute lunch (which, by the way, would be just 30 minutes — because traffic is a nightmare here), think again. I may respect that you are not trying to take up too much of my time, but really? I’m not trying to get romantic over a lunch portion salad and an agua fresca.

3. Date my friends

Hey, novel concept here, but if you dated one of my friends, get lost. I am not trying to date you. Unless I have her blessing, I am not doing it. Furthermore, I do not want to date my friend’s sloppy seconds. And last time I checked, I am not attracted to anyone they date because I am apparently attracted to people that none of my friends find attractive either. (And thank God. It makes going out in a single group of girls a lot easier.)

Also, I am a Capricorn. By nature, I assume you want something from me if you are nice to me (bad habit), so if you had dated my girlfriend and then were a little too friendly/touchy-feely with me at that party I randomly saw you at, in the immortal words of Dionne Farris: I know what you’re doing. I know you’re trying to piss her off and make yourself feel better about yourself. Please take your issues elsewhere.

4. Send me text messages or emails with emoticons/emojis

Listen, do I enjoy sending 17 cat emojis in a row to my coworkers? Yes. It’s gratifying, for whatever reason. But please do not send them to me if you’re asking me out. I know this is wrong, but judgements will be made. I need to feel like you are mature, a bit mysterious, and maybe even SEXY! (God help me!) And if you are sending me “;-)” or that emoji that’s attempting an air kiss, you are not sexy. You have solidified it for me.

There are levels to this. You are between Defcon 1-3 if you send emojis, depending on what they are. And if you send me a @—->—– (a rose) or a :^) you are most definitely hitting Defcon 4 or 5. Emojis can be forgiven at times, emoticons are the kiss of death.

Ryan Gosling could ask me out to dinner in Paris, but if he sends me a “thumbs up” emoji as I’m driving to dinner, I’m having that Porshe he called for me turn around. “Cough cough, I’m sick.”

Save emojis for an inside joke with a friend or your parents. And don’t even think about sending an emoticon. Ever. To anyone. And if you’re worried that I might not get your sarcasm or sense of humor, try giving me a phone call like a normal human.

5. Ask me what I “want to do”

Please take the reigns here. If we end up driving around for 30 minutes trying to decide on what to do after dinner, or where to eat, or where to buy the bottle of wine — do me a favor and drop me back off at home.

Men make decisions. If we’re going with comparisons here, please be a Schmidt in this situation, not a Nick Miller. (If you don’t get these, please ignore.) Men make reservations and say, “Hi, I will pick you up at 7:00 and was thinking dinner at _______________ would be nice. Sound good?” Not “So I’ll grab you around 7:00, is that okay? And we can go from there.” NO. No we can’t. At least by saying “sound good?” you offer me the opportunity to let you know I hate pizza, so that old school Italian pizzeria you wanted to take me to isn’t the best idea, but if they have other options that sounds great! And “we can go from there” is maybe the worst thing you could say to me, because the last thing I want to think about is that I could possibly be trying to entertain a guy I barely know in a car for 30 minutes while we decide on where to eat.

One of the best things in life I have learned is that sometimes you need to take action and show people what they are missing*. Not let them marinate on it and have time to decide whether it’s good or bad. Just jump into it and commit! (*This sentiment should not be taken in regards to sexual activity. I’ve warned you.)

So there you have it. Thangs you need not do if you’re tryin’ to take me a on date, y’all.. And not just me — any woman you’re trying to date. Capeesh?

Also, aren’t I doing a great job of showing that I am truly a happy-go-lucky, goofy, go-with-the-flow type of gal? Because I am. I AM. (!!!!)

For Pete’s sake.

Know what you don’t want

What’s a blog when you’re only commenting about other people’s lives? Just a tad too gossip-y for my taste. So why not venture into my life.

I was hesitant, but my friends were encouraging: “Why aren’t you writing about this stuff? It’s fun!” And I’ll tell you why: because I’m not trying to be the Taylor Swift of blogging. I’m just not. What? I start off writing about dating in Los Angeles and next I’m busy losing my virginity to John Mayer and acting as the Air Force Beard to various gay men? I don’t think so. But I guess what sets me apart is unlike Taylor Swift, I’m not naming names.

"Plotting my next tell-all sing-a-long..."

Yet. Except doesn’t Taylor Swift (usually) not name names and just insinuates everything so people can piece everything together on their own? Maybe I need to buy a guitar and go to town…

Here goes nothing.

I’m approaching the tender age of 25 and I’m single. Have been for over a year now and I’m officially back in swing of singledom. At this phase in my life, dating is great. I don’t need a guy to call me every day, but if I like him, that’s awesome. I don’t even need a date more than once week, however it is nice go on them if you enjoy the person.

I remember this stage quite fondly. It’s been awhile. Back in 2007-2008, I was living. it. up. with all my best girlfriends and no man in sight, except maybe the occasional mixer date, but even those were few and far between because we’d all rather go as girls than with someone we’d have to coddle (and cuddle?) all night long. And if we did have a date… it was fun, but there were no emotional ties. No worries, no jealously, no nothing.

So now, as I’m starting to date around, I find myself at battle: go on dates with people I’m not attracted to? Or stick to my guns and wait? As my coworker Marina and I were chatting so eloquently today:

“I’m just waiting on Clay Matthews.”

“And I’m just waiting for Jesus to send a good man to LA…”

Luckily, I stuck to my guns and did not divvy out my dating cards to anyone and everyone. Plus, I wasn’t ready to date until just recently. I’ve held off until the stars aligned and it felt ‘right’ (or whatever you want to call it). It was slim pickings for awhile, my friends. I think an important thing that differs from other periods of singlehood in my life is that I distinctly know what I’m not looking for. I might not be able to pinpoint everything I want, but I sure as hell know what I can do without..

This brings me to some shenanery that’s been going on at the office. I’m going to call this guy out. I am fairly sure he’ll read this. Is that awkward? No. He can take it. Any guy can take it. It’s a matter of how you handle it. But also, I’m not terrified of this person, and think he’ll take this with a decent amount of pride, so I’m not too worried about it.

Note: I did not date this man.

Let me start by saying that some of the stuff I’m about to say is all “alleged.” Meaning it’s all their words against his, “they” being the ladies I’m about to mention. The only reason I really know this guy is because he is notorious around the office for hooking up with various women, all of whom I have contact with and/or work with closely. Kind of weird. He claims this is all hearsay, or pulls a, “Well, now that I think about it, did we make out?” to try to keep himself honest. Frankly I don’t buy it and don’t feel like women would just make up random makeouts out of the blue; most women tend to hide makeouts, not make them up out of thin air (unless they’re crazy).

Said guy is not my type. He’s already aware of this. Nice guy, I’m sure he’s a blast to be around, but no, it’s not going to happen. I can openly admit that I do not give men the time of day unless I am seriously interested. I think that’s the best way to be, and I wish more people were like this. Don’t misconstrue my words though — seriously interested doesn’t equate to serious relationship.

For fun he likes to tell me that he’s not interested or whatever (because as you can tell this man plays endless mind games) but the fact is that he was spending a hefty amount of time at my desk, people were noticing, and I wasn’t having it. I politely (sternly?) told him he can’t come up to visit me. End of story.

The ongoing joke (or should I say “a horse that’s been bludgeoned to death”) he always pulls when he walks by is something along the lines of, “Hey, has so-and-so come by?” So-and-so being the chick he “hooked up with.” I only put it in quotes for his sake, just to give him the benefit of the doubt. But really, that sentence should be read without quotes, because I have no doubt he’s hooked up them. He also has nicknamed me “Godzilla.” Yes, he knows how to work the ladies. But he calls me that (apparently) because I am a terror and like to make his life miserable. I do admit I’m a little mischevious, guilty as charged…

The other day I had to send out an office email and he writes back. I would literally just screenshot it, but I’m not about to get into privacy issues, so here’s how it went down. I’m not a complete terror!

Me: {Redacted initial email to office}

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Him: hey, Did (redacted) come through there recently? 😉

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That’s not overplayed or anything…

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you love it!

But seriously.

Did she? 😉

Let’s go to lunch

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1) No

2) No

3) No

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LOL Kirbie “Godzilla” Johnson you crack my sh*t up!

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End scene. Listen, I’m not trying to make this at his expense — who knows what he’s going through — but he needs to learn. Dude, you’re acting like a skeezy salesman. Please pull yourself together. Have some dignity. Stop dating inside the office. Learn some new flirting techniques, find a new herd of women and try them out. It could go swimmingly if you play your cards right, but I don’t see how any woman in the office is to take you seriously, unless she’s an intern… and let’s be honest, you’ve had your fair share of those.

Anyway, I hope I’m not being too harsh. I like to dole out tough love more often than not. But in the dating world, I suppose it’s important to call things out like you see ’em, eh?