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Dating Advice, Menterventions

The Perfect Date

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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!

Menterventions

It’s normal to hate your friend’s boyfriend

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Friendship: one of the most coveted relationships you can have the honor of being bestowed with. Friends are the family you choose for yourself, yeah? Chances are, some of your friends know more about you than your own parents. I can say that I have a group of friends that I can count on one hand that have known me over half of my life. These women will probably have more memories with me, of me, and know more about me than my future husband ever will. They will remember what I looked like in elementary, middle and high school; the idiotic things I said and did in college, the first place I lived here in LA.

But with the glory of having a comrade to engage in debauchery with, to gripe with and to go through social awkwardness with also comes the crappy parts of having that friend. Perhaps it’s holding their hair back. Perhaps it’s trying to get them to put pants on. Or maybe it’s the inevitable: the fact that, at some point, you will hate their boyfriend.

Maybe hate is a strong word. You may hate them, but you may also feel many of your friends are selling themselves short with the people they’re dating.

I can’t.

As a friend, you have the short end of the stick. Not only do you have to hear all the good points (the first dates! the sweet gestures! the engagements!) but the terrible things as well, which can range from cheating, name calling; when they spent a large amount of money without consulting you first, dinner with an ex behind your back, flirting, arguing, multiple breakups, and, sadly, if he’s been abusive.

As friends, these are the burdens we take on: to love our friends unconditionally, lift them up, and try to help advise them when it’s necessary. But it’s hard to forget those terrible things when a reconciliation comes about, because the last thing we want is to see our friends end up with someone unworthy of them in the long run. Sure, nobody’s perfect, but why settle when the red flags keep popping up repeatedly?

When you’re in your teens, or even in college, you don’t tend to worry about these relationships because, more than likely, they will fizzle out, fade, die — whatever you want to call it. But as I’ve gotten into this thing others like to refer to as “adulthood,” (I prefer “4 years of Ramen or Lean Cuisine?”) I have gotten increasingly more neurotic about my friends. Mostly because they’re all dating or have dated jackasses, and also because, outside of work, my life consists of hanging with said friends or going to the gym.

“You are meddling in their lives!” you may be thinking. No, I am not. When you love someone, don’t you want what’s best for their own physical and emotional welfare? I do not want anyone I know walking down the aisle, only to get the big D four years later. (And by “big D,” I am referring to divorce.)

At first, I wondered why so many of their boyfriends were such idiots, and then I wondered what my own problem was. Newsflash: It’s normal to not be keen on your friends’ boyfriends from time to time. In fact, so many of our friends these days are worried about the option of being alone that they tend to cling to people not worth their time. So it’s normal to hold a grudge, be bitter and still be weary of said boyfriend who has broken their heart or done an unforgivable thing. Because more than often, at this age, if our friends aren’t married (like, no kidding, 90% of mine, thank goodness), they’re dating some idiot who doesn’t have his shit together. It’s true. Said shit could be their job, their emotional state, their spending, their drinking, their education… the list goes on.

Let me backtrack for a second. Some of my friends’ boyfriends, exes, or whatever their defined as these days (some of them are in relationship limbo) are great people. People I’ve had great times with, people I adore, and even people I consider a friend too. But guess what? They don’t have my allegiance. I might like these two people as individuals, but together? To the left with it.

While you would like to brush this whole “feeling” off, it’s almost impossible because it can affect your life in a few ways. It can make your life a living hell because all your friend does is spend every waking minute with this person and they’re always around, NO MATTER WHAT. So you have to hear their arrogant, self-satisfying babble when you could not care less.

Or, it can ruin your relationship with your friend. She cares too much about him at that point. Women tend to put on their Boyfriend Goggles(TM) in relationships. They impair everything! Good decisions get thrown out the window sometimes, so you’re more than likely getting kicked to the curb until she figures out this lowlife isn’t loyal, isn’t going anywhere, and has no real attributes she should be attracted to.

Or you can deal with it and drive yourself nuts.

I used to spend my time thinking about how I was going to tell my friends I couldn’t stand their boyfriend, and what a terrible decision it was for them to (move in, get back together, quit their job for them, etc). It was like the nagging thing in the back of my head. I am classified as a Stage 5 Helper, and these girls NEEDED help! Didn’t they? Didn’t they need me to tell them everything that was wrong with their relationship?

If you don’t know the answer already, it’s no.

And you know what? That’s why it’s never happened. Because I realized something. Well, two things. More than likely, these women know, deep within their hearts, it’s not right. That there are too many red flags for this to be the real deal. And sure, they’re probably ignoring it for now so they can enjoy the time they have left, but ultimately they know in their heart it’s not “it.”

Second, it’s not worth it for me, and not for you as a friend, either. It’s not your battle to fight, your mountain to climb, your experience to go through. If they are in physical harm, obviously reach out to the appropriate parties to keep things safe. But emotional harm can be just as damaging, and I understand how hard it is to walk away and not say something when your friend just got prescribed a new pair of Boyfriend Goggles.

At the end of the day, you can cause a bunch of drama by speaking your mind and probably get nowhere because, let’s face it, we’re all adults. Your friend is going to make her own decisions. You can say something, or you can love your friends, advise when necessary, and hope they get some sense smacked into them at some point.

I will say that I have been vocal with one friend recently about her relationship, and it takes a really special friendship to be able to vocalize something like that and have them respect what you’re saying, knowing it’s coming from a good, honest place. Some of your friendships won’t be able to handle — let alone make it through — a conversation like that. Even your best friends.

So mind your mouth before you try to offer help and advice.

Menterventions

How To Reject a Man

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Death. Taxes. The Cowboys choking. Rejecting someone you don’t want to date.

Yes, these are all things that are definitive in this life.

Rejection is a word I hate. I think it’s so pompous to “reject” someone. Like they’re an object so foreign that you have to reject them from your life. Ugh. It’s the worst. word. ever. I prefer “notify them that you like them as a person, but are not interested in moving forward.” And at times it’s more like “notify them that you don’t like them as a person because they are a complete (insert descriptive noun here) and you most definitely won’t be moving forward with any type of interaction.” But those are too long, yeah?

Anyway, I’m a fraud, I admit. Aren’t I supposed to offer sound advice and encouragement when it comes to breaking up or calling it quits? Probably. But  when it comes to letting people know I am not interested, I can’t close the deal.

I am going to admit that I am way too empathetic. I imagine how I’d feel if I were on the receiving end of this conversation. I get nervous I might hurt their feelings, so instead of straight up saying I’m not interested, I pretend to be too busy to ever see them again. (Partially true.) Or, I will not respond to their attempts to go out again. (I know, it’s awful.)

I’ve asked a lot of people how this should go. How do you tell someone you aren’t interested in them? I am not the Queen of Dating by any means. I don’t have men lining up to take me out. (This is LA, after all!) But if we’re going to remain realists here on Mentervention, I must say that I haven’t dated a guy in a while that I’ve been super eager to see again. The giddy factor is missing. A CRUCIAL FACTOR, FOLKS. I want to feel like I’m 17 again. Surely that feeling can be replicated. (Surely???)

Most dates are failures in terms of finding a mate. I think it’s because I have a clear idea of what I’m looking for in a man. And not just physically — although tall, determined and handsome doesn’t hurt nobody! These guys… they all have great attributes, but “Dreamweaver” hasn’t started playing in my head when they walk in the room.

Just to clarify, I don’t openly go around asking people for advice on how to let someone down gently. It’s just that whenever I casually mention that I have a date, people tend lose their damn minds. “WITH WHO!!!!! OMG!!! WHERE DID YOU MEET!!! LET ME SEE A PIC!” You’d think I had just won the $600 million Powerball with all the fuss that is made. (And should I be concerned that people are that excited when I get a date? Like I’m the perptetual single chick or something? Dear lord.) So they obviously do a follow-up  to ask how it went, and my response is pretty much as follows:

“He’s nice, we had a good time, but I don’t see it going anywhere.”

I mean, I should really redefine the term “good” because it’s not usually “good.” Good is like, we LOLed three or four times together, we held hands at one point, and I know I am going to see him again. Maybe a kiss was involved?! I don’t know. (I’m not that old-fashioned.) In most cases, I should say that it “sufficed to keep me occupied and he was a friendly person.”

So, how do you reject a perfectly nice guy, who bought you a drink (or two) and you might even see yourself being friends with? And they’re asking to see you again? But homie don’t play that?

I’ve had a few good answers given to me. A guy friend said to be straight forward, Band-Aid style. Hit them with it right off the bat, be quick, be nice, throw in some humor if you can. Just don’t lead him on. Men would rather know immediately that you’re not interested. Which, is logical, considering I would want to be told the same way.

My makeup artist said she found the perfect term to use, and she was right. “Tell them you had a great time, but you don’t think you’re a match.” Perfection. You did enjoy yourself, you like them as a person, but there’s no gray area when it comes to if you do or don’t want to see him again.

But how do you do you deliver this message?  Now usually I am a huge proponent of phone calls because it’s a lost communication form these days. I love talking on the phone, unless you are a publicist pitching me a product. (Don’t do that, by the way. Emails only.) That wasn’t always the case — but here, calls are my saving grace, considering all my closest friends and family are all living a solid 1200-1300 hundred miles away from me. (I know this for a fact since I have many of them on Find a Friend, an app we skillfully downloaded in Vegas, just in case one of us decided to wander off alone or happened to lose our phone.) But if you can get away with a text on this type of rejection, especially with somoene you just started to see, you can probably get the point across better by writing them instead of talking it out.

And on that note, if you are in a long-term relationship and you are rejecting someone through a text message, you are an asshat of epic proportions, and you should probably not be dating anyone, but instead taking some “me” time. Because that has “issues” written all over it.

Menterventions

Trivial Pursuits

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I’m one of those people who can talk to a wall if need be, but when it comes to dating, I CRINGE at the thought of having to explore if there’s a “connection” with someone I just met, because 99% of the time there is not.

Granted, I haven’t had a ton of dates. But last week I had two planned, which is rather shocking considering I don’t do these types of things. Surprisingly, neither one was awkward or boring or cringe-worthy… but that’s because one actually didn’t happen. Allow me to explain:

I met a guy two weeks ago at The Surly Goat, after my friends identified him as “my type.” He approached me during bar close. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t wooed by this guy because he was attractive, charming and totally outgoing — all things women can get behind, right? Long story short, he asked me on a date this past Saturday, I went, and it was great. Not weird, bizarre, uncomfortable — legitimately, it was a great time with a fun, interesting guy. Kudos to him for acting like someone I’ve known for more than just a week and not like a socially awkward idiot. I don’t know when I’ll see this guy again, (or if that’s even in the cards) but it made me happy to know not all dates are emotionally traumatizing. Rejoice!

My date on Friday, however, was with Brutus (name obvi changed). Since I’m trying to, you know, make time to date in my life, I figured why not test the waters? I wasn’t particularly interested in this person, but one of my co-workers gave me great advice: go on the date, get some wine, and use it as a way to build up your experience for when you meet someone great. Wine makes things less serious than an entire dinner, and if you use it more like a tool to help you get better at dating, there’s no harm there. PS writing “a tool to get better at dating” literally made me regurgitate a little, as it sounds SO BLOODY pathetic. Why do I need help dating? I’m effing awesome, right…?

So here’s the deal: I was going to be in San Fran for most of the week, and on that Monday I was asked out by this guy. I let him know I wasn’t going to be around, but he offered to pick me up from the airport on Friday and would take me to dinner then. I liked the gesture and thought it was super considerate of him (I can’t get some of my own friends to pick my ass up) so I committed to the date and went about my week. We would text a little bit while I was gone, and on Wednesday he told me he was headed to San Fran as well. A weird coincidence, yet not one I was willing to be like, “we should totally meet up!” Mostly because a) I was busy all day long while I was there, b) I had my office party and c) I was going to see him Friday. No need to go overboard with the appearances here. And frankly, I’m not asking you to come back to my hotel, so forget it, dude.

I didn’t hear from him Thursday or Friday morning, which lead me to crack some jokes about how I had been ditched and that my girlfriends and I should grab tacos that night and watch sappy roms coms in bed. Some of my friends thought I should have texted him with my flight info or to follow up, but I have some serious issues with this — those being that he’s the one who set this up, and he was the one making the offer. Like, perhaps if this dude was the man of my dreams, I’d make an effort. (Probably not. Chivalry ain’t dead in my book, people.) But here’s the point: if I’m offering to pick someone up from the airport, I’m asking them well in advance their flight info, what time I should be there, etc. I wasn’t about to ask this dude if he was still offering to pick me up and, you know, GO ON A DATE AND BUY ME DINNER. Also, please consider that the week before this he made plans to meet up with me and he flaked on those as well. See the pattern here? He knows how to woo ladies, especially ones who appear extremely disinterested.

I landed at LAX with no message from him at all, which was fine — me and my friends cabbed it home — but can we get real here? What an effing joke. This is why women bitch about dating guys in our generation, because they make these so-called “plans” for dates yet none of them have the gonads to follow up and make those things happen. Guys, it’s your bloody job to pursue a woman. Ladies, you should not be pursuing any man. I’m not old fashioned — and it’s not empowering for women to be pursuing a man, unless you’re in some ridic romantic comedy featuring Julia Roberts, and we all know how My Best Friend’s Wedding ended.  (If you don’t, hint: her love marries the younger, blonder Cameron Diaz, and she’s left alone with her gay companion.)  you’re wondering if a relationship is right for you, ask yourself if you are pursuing it more than the man is. If you are, and it works out, just remember you will have a lifetime to deal with him not pursuing you, and you having to pick up all the slack.

I don’t even need to get into that you shouldn’t take take take but give as well — that’s obvious, but not the point here. If a guy really wants to see you, he will figure out a way to make that happen, no matter what you’re doing or what you’re going through. If it ever pops into your mind that you should text him because you haven’t heard from him in a few days, please listen to me and DON’T TEXT HIM. Because any guy who is thinking of you is going to reach out to you via text, email, phone call, whatever. (Please apply this to breakups as well: if he wanted to be with you, he wouldn’t have broken up with you.)

“But you’ve been single how long?” Make the joke — I’ve been single three years. I haven’t gone on thousands of dates, but I did learn from the relationships I had in the past, and they all started out with the guy pursuing MOI. They made the effort, and there weren’t any games. No “let’s hang out” or “will you be at X bar?” or waiting six days to text or call each other. They were very much open about their intentions: they liked me, wanted to see me and spend time with me, and they were going to make that happen. These were no trivial pursuits by any means. They were valuable pursuits, and they were happy to go through them to court me.

OH! I forgot the best part. I’m pretty much a terror when it comes to men and making them feel dumb. By happenstance (or so we’ll say at this point) I ran into him at a bar I was at that night. Low and behold, he shows with his posse of bros. I truly adore one of his friends (apologies if you’re reading this) and explained to him what had happened.

“So, Brutus is socially inept when it comes to women — he was supposed to pick me up at the airport tonight and take me on a date, which obviously is not happening since, you know, we’re not on a date right now.”

The friend explained Brutus was buzzed on another level. (Shocking.) And eventually Brutus came over and made small talk that went something like this:

Brutus: “Hey, how’s it going?”

Kirbie: “Good! Great, how are you?” (I can really pep it up when I’m annoyed.)

B: “I’m good, you look great.”

K: “Thanks…”

B: “Yeah, I just got back in from San Fran late tonight. Did you fly in?”

K: “Yeah, I left around 7:10 and got in at 8:30.”

B: “Oh. Yeah. Remind me, where were you again?”

That was the point where I turned him around by brute force and requested that he leave. I know I shouldn’t have been upset if I didn’t want to see this guy in the first place, but really, make up your mind, and don’t waste my time with it all. He made the plans, and was proactive about it happening THAT NIGHT. Then I happen to see him at a bar after he pretty much ditched me, and the guy is obviously on something because he doesn’t even remember that I was in San Francisco — the place he was just at as well.

LONG STORY but that’s not the guy I want to date, nor the kind of guy I’m attracted to, and I’m sick of dealing with these lint-lickers. Ladies, does this sound like someone you’d want to date either? Unless you are working the street corner, no, no you don’t.  One characteristic every fiancé or husband to my girlfriends has? They’re men, and they encompass that. They don’t allow their women to be their mothers or babysitters. They may not be good at planning, but they figure out how to get their shit together, especially when it comes to pursuing those women. Each woman is strong and independent, yet these men allow them to feel their best and let them enjoy being a woman, and part of that is being pursued by a real man.

So let’s cheers to this: no more trivial pursuits, ladies and gentlemen.

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Men: Your Turnoffs Are Slightly Idiotic

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My friend Emily sent me a link last week from Jezebel. It’s a few months old, but that didn’t take away from its relevance or how hilarious it is. This woman, Lindy West, is a woman after my own heart. Because she likes to mix relationship commentary with some good, old fashioned LOLs.

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Her commentary, perfectly written in her post, “Listen Up, Ladies: Here’s Everything Real Men Think is Wrong With You,” highlights several “turnoffs” “real men” have, according to Yahoo. A few of the treats include:

– false lashes, fake hair

– applying body lotion

– taking too much time to put on makeup

– wet hair

– using a hair dryer, wearing heels (before work to get ready)

– hair roots showing too much

– doing manicures themselves

– being low maintenance

You can read the entire thing here. Trust me, you’ll want to, because it’s LOL-worthy. But guys, if you’re reading this, I’m going to be frank with you because some of these answers are bloody absurd.

First, let me just define turnoff for you: “A person or thing that causes someone to feel bored, disgusted, or sexually repelled.” So you’re telling me, guys, that you are bored with a woman when she takes too long to put on makeup and dry her hair — something she’s doing to make herself look good for you? You are “sexually repelled” by women who go to sleep with their hair wet? According to this Yahoo! survey, yes, yes you are.

I know you wish your woman would wake up with beautiful, shiny hair and look absolutely runway worthy without makeup. But that’s a pipedream you’re going to need to get rid of immediately, because most of us don’t look this good at the crack of dawn. Truth is, someone of us need glasses, our hair will look like a stump full of granddaddies, we’ve probably drooled on our pillows that night, and have very appearent blemish cream on our faces that make us look like we have leopard spots, all so that you don’t have to look at a face full of acne. If you think we’re going to look like Olivia Wilde in the morning, you are sorely mistaken, because she is literally the only human being capable of looking like that without a stich of makeup. Because she isn’t real. Round of applause for Jason Sudeikis. Everyone can be improved upon with a little bit of cosmetics.

The interesting thing about this article is that men range from “you are trying too hard, ladies” to “you aren’t trying hard enough.” Please, just shut up. If you are with a woman who is too low maintenance for your standards, dump her. If she is too high maintenance, kiss her goodbye. She may be nice, she may be pretty, and she may enjoy college football just as much as you do, but if you’re going to complain about how long it takes her to get ready in the morning, it’s time to let that ship sail. Because that’s a losing battle.

First off, I know half of your dream women include a Victoria’s Secret Angel, Kate Upton, Rihanna, Erin Andrews or Kate Beckinsale. They’re all gorgeous. But while you’re admiring that Angel on the catwalk, please note that she has at least six tracks of clip-in extensions in, they’ve airbrushed her makeup for a “natural glow,” she’s probably had two airbrush tans, and those lashes that look so natural? Most likely they’re curled, have extensions, or are individuals glued on. While they may be stunning, they’ve had some help. It’s not 100% au natural, as you have envisioned in your heads.

The kicker for me is that half of the things the men complained about are all things that a) most men usually have no idea a woman is wearing (or not wearing), or b) things men tend to like and grativate toward. For instance, the dude griping about the woman wearing heels and making too much noise by wearing them: you like the illusion of long legs, gents? Well stop griping about the heels. And the at-home manicure — you’d be complaining if we spent too much money to get a $30 set of gel nails, so let the woman paint her own nails! It’s therapeautic sometimes after a long day of our boyfriend nagging us about sleeping on a pillow with wet hair.

Also, I’m going to say it. I’ve worn fake hair. I’ve worn faux lashes. And when I get married, my husband will be like “DAYUM. Our wedding photos look out of control” and it will be because my hair is thick and flowing and my eyes look definied and beautiful. On the hair note, no man has ever figured it out. (Cat’s out of the bag now I suppose). But unless he’s running his hands through my hair — which he sure as hell ain’t doing unless we’re at the point where we’re close enough for me to say ‘listen dude, I have a weave’ — then he’s happy sure to be thrilled that my hair looks awesome. Which, by the way, I’m sure he won’t, because MEN USUALLY DON’T CARE ABOUT HOW LONG OR THICK OR WAVY OR STRAIGHT YOUR HAIRS ARE.

Except these men in the poll. Clearly.

I’m by no means saying you need anything “fake” to make you look fabulous, ladies. Whether it’s a little lip gloss and blush, putting on a moisturizer, or just a few strokes of a paddle brush through your hair, we all do a little “something” to make us feel better (and look better). Men, get used to it. This sounds more of communication issue though. If your girlfriend has a problem with screwing lids on correctly, why not express your pissed off-ness to them instead of writing into a survey like some passive-aggressive weirdo?

Anyway men, the real takeaway here is stop complaining — half of these primping and pampering routines we have? It’s to make you happy.

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I can’t make this up: October 17th edition

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I’m a glutton for punishment. I take that back: I’m a glutton for watching others be punished, which is exactly what happens in online dating. Although I took myself off OKStupid OKCupid, I’m back. For dating? No. For blogs? Yes. And the messages are better (or worse, depending on how you look at it) than ever.

You know how these work: I leave out usernames and photos, because I’m not a life-ruiner. I’m more of a Carly Simon, “I bet you think this song is about you” kind of gal, instead of a Taylor Swift “guess which song is about Jake Gyllenhaal” kind of lady. Maybe someday I’ll tread into Swifty territory but for right now I think keeping things anonymous = good karma.

OKC is anonymous, but let’s be real here, I’d respond the way I do to some of these creeps without hiding behind a screen name. 

The Argumentative Pr*ck

I don’t respond to messages unless the guy really pisses me off. This guy was offensive on so many levels that I just… well, just read. 

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I had no idea what this meant. Religion? Probably. He definitely couldn’t be talking about how there’s no possible way the mansions on X Factor were actually the judges real homes. Further inquiry: 

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The “Size Queen”

This guy has a shirtless photo of himself as his avatar, and references his “size” in his username. I’m so over the 50 Shades of Grey train. (Saying anything after that book title just sounds foul.)

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The Basher

Never thought I’d get a guy who actually bashes women on a dating site, but hey, that’s what OKC is all about: surpassing your douchiest expectations. I obviously had to say something back. (GED comment thanks to my dearest Slim and our most recent trip to Vegas.)

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He never got back to me…

The Sister Lover

I’m so utterly confused by this message. Is he calling me uncool? We have a pseudo-connection based on our (poor) Match percentages, but it’s not as good as his connection with this sister? I’m so lost. I think he meant well, but it turned out a little too much like a Honey Boo Boo reference for me. 

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WTF

If you happen to have extra time to make a fake account on OKC and then use that line as your opener… you shouldn’t be dating.

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The thing about OKC that I will never understand is why men post photos from behind, in the dark, with their faces covered; while they’re white water rafting from 20 miles away; posing with an ex-girlfriend, taking shirtless selfies in the bathroom, etc. Just. don’t. get. it. Those photos are not attractive, sometimes are fully embarrassing, and somewhat of a sham, considering most people would like to see what the other looks like, given they can’t be there in person. Guys, do everyone a solid if you’re really trying to get out there and date and post a decent photo of your face.

But MAN. Aren’t photos deceiving? I have plenty photos of myself where I look like I’m 5’9 and could possibly be 20 pounds lighter, when in fact, it was a great camera angle and superior lighting. Ladies and gents, don’t pretend you don’t have those poses down to a SCIENCE. In our Facebook-dependent society, knowing how to take a proper photo without looking cross-eyed, frumpy and double-chinned is a skill. A SKILL!

Also, the ones that message you multiple times after you haven’t written them back: desperation, anyone? Not only are you annoying me, you are proving to be needy before we’ve ever met. (And we-eeeeeee won’t ever, ever, ever… since it’s my strict policy to never meet menz from the internets. (Unless Clay Matthews sees this and in that case… make it happen, CMIII.) 

Regardless, it’s nice to have a reminder of why I’m happily single. 

Menterventions

“A conversation is a dialogue, not a monologue.” — Truman Capote

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I thought I was turning out to be the only person who thought men were complete and utter asshats UNTIL I WENT TO VEGAS.
(If you don’t want to read about the drunk wisdom I received from a British lad, scroll down — there are some real special OKCupid messages awaiting you. They’ll be the last of the bunch considering I deleted my account last week.)

——————————-

While at TAO, a British lad by the name of Stephen approached myself and my two girlfriends and asked us to come to his table. If you’re a woman, you know the number one mission you should have in Vegas is to find hot men with a table of free alcohol to consume. I was patting myself on the back for this mission: accomplished when I started talking to Stephen a bit more and realized this was a divine intervention… or Mentervention, rather.

Were Stephen and I meant to be? DEFINITELY not. He had about six too many buttons unbuttoned on his shirt, I can guarantee you he was just trying to sleep with me (or one of my girlfriends — who knew at that point) and pretty much defined the term “British Playboy.” His friends were pulling the ultimate wingman move by telling all of us he was a royal and went to school with Pippa Middleton and Princess Beatrice. Shamefully, I was pretty close to believing them. Does the normal guy care or even know Princess Beatrice exists? Alas I knew it was all lies — lest any man doubt my knowledge of the royals — but a nice touch nonetheless. Anyway, talking to Stephen, he made a few comments that I found to be unbelievably brilliant. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was his rather charming accent… but it all made so much sense. Don’t even ask me how this got brought up because I don’t remember:

(Please read in a British accent) “Men in America are quite idiotic. I’m serious. They run around and try to get women yet they only ask questions like, ‘What brings you here? Have you been here before?’ Just give it up already man! It’s even worse when they try to talk to other men. (Goes into his American accent) ‘Yo dude! What’s up bro? Yeah man, keep it real.’ What the bloody hell is that? I will tell you why men in America are a turnoff to women: because they don’t know how to hold a decent conversation.”

Now Stephen makes a valid point. I’m not saying this to make myself sound like some woman who is just overloaded with men approaching her — I’m definitely not — but this is a dating blog after all, so sue me. Anyway, just today some rando at Whole Foods came up and said, “You know what’s good?” Me, being oblivious, looked around, and responded, “What?” I thought he was going to tell me what was good. Then he’s like, “No, is there something you like here?” And at this point I’m privy to the fact that he’s just trying to talk to me, but I’m also really annoyed because I’ve been waiting 10 minutes to get a half a pound of sliced turkey. So I kind of just smile and say, “Nope, looks like all my favorites aren’t available today…” and he stands there and stares at me. Like a creeper. So I start to move when he says, “I don’t really care if you like anything, I just wanted an excuse to talk to you.”

Yeah, I couldn’t tell man. Here’s the thing: timing is everything. Read the signs, guys! If I’m on my phone and tapping my foot because the family of four in front of me can’t decide if they want smoked or roasted turkey breast, I am clearly not in the mood to chat. Maybe if you had told me a funny joke or wanted to commiserate with me, I’d be more up for it. But frankly I don’t want to discuss my favorite side dishes that I pick up from Whole Foods. Because really, do you even give a damn? No, you do not. This is what I mean.

If any man would have approached me like Stephen did in Vegas, I’d be excited to talk to him. Sure, the prospect of free alcohol was running through my brain, but his demeanor is what I’m referring to. He didn’t come across too arrogant or goofy or nervous. He wasn’t trying too hard. He was the right combination of confident, friendly and outgoing. He seemed genuinely curious about us and didn’t ask questions where we all were like, “He doesn’t give two shits about that… why is he asking?”

I don’t know if it was because we were American or what (and frankly I don’t care), but his conversation was good enough that all three of us ended up chatting with his group of friends until we (the girlfriends, not us and Stephen… need to clarify that) left the club that night. And sure, maybe his intentions weren’t genuine, but again, I DON’T CARE. It was Vegas. But it would be nice to meet a non-Vegas Stephen one day who wasn’t so into themselves and they actually took some time to create a meaningful conversation with a woman.

By meaningful, I don’t mean contemplating life and love and poetry and symbolism and all of that jazz. I mean, it can be about all that stuff too, but mostly I’m referring to a conversation that we can both relate to and understand at the time. Trying to get philisophical at the gym or the ball park or the grocery store is not appropo. Save it for the first date. But also, think about engaging in conversations that make us empathize or laugh and heck… make us think. Maybe it’s about your favorite band or a hard time you went through or a hilarious story that’s self-deprecating and amazing all at the same time. A conversation that you’re excited to be in and one that I know you’re not rolling your eyes about when I turn my head. A conversation where you not only share your part, but is, in fact, an actual conversation. One where you care about my response and react to it; one where you don’t have ulterior motives (to hit the sack, to build yourself up, to get sympathy, and so on).

I definitely don’t expect you to try to strike up a “What is love?” conversation in the deli meats section at Whole Foods, but please come up with something a little more intriguing than a question about what green I prefer with my steak. You dig? I’m sure the ladies will agree with me on all aforementioned accounts.

To conclude, I’m not saying all men in Vegas give opinions as wise as Stephen’s, either. And to think for a second that Stephen wasn’t a raging douchebag would be remiss on my part. I forgot to mention he was on Night #2 of his EIGHT DAY STAY IN VEGAS. I went for five nights, four days back in 2010 and I truly don’t know how I came out of that one alive. But then again, he put his number in my phone as “Sexy Stephen British.” So we’ll call it a draw when it comes to the “Undesirable Bro” debate. While he was a cheeky lad, he was witty and clever (including the term “British” made it easy to remember who he was the next day). He definitely had some “pros” to balance out his “cons.”

So based on this post, I guess you can either a) get interested  or b) try turning up the charm, guys. Take your pick.

Now on to some riveting messages from OKCupid! Yes, these are the final online dating messages I will post on here unless I decide to invest my love life in eHarmony or Match.com.

This is from some dude I didn’t respond to and it was sent at 1:15 PM. Yes, in the afternoon. So I can assume he wasn’t binge drinking at this point:


Meet up in LA

Fly to Las Vegas

Sex

On Ice

Diamonds

Shine so bright

We dance all night

Roll die

Champagne on me

Pop

Bottles

Step on the throttle

So much fun

So

Hard

You might just waddle home

Since that one clearly needs no comment… on to this guy. I’m leaving out his handle because, apparently, it’s his whole name. But he’s 33 and this is what he thought would “woo” me enough to give a response:

Hello,

How are you?

I have to admit, you are a 9 on a 1-10 scale,

would you like to find out why you didn’t quite make the 10? Regardless, with you being a 9,

that is just perfect.

I want to meet up with you in the near distant future.

I’m not sure how real this is but soon enough we’ll find out.

So many questions here: 1) Where did it say I  gave a shit from shinola about what rating I got from you? Also, why are men obsessed with this rating system? (See here.) I don’t care why I didn’t make a 10 because a) I couldn’t care less about being rated and b) it’s clear from this message the reason you are still single is because you think telling women what they “rate” in your mind is a way to win their heart. You CLOWN. 2) Why is it “just perfect” that I’m a nine? 3) And “near distant?” Like Back to the Future? When you say, “real this is,” do you mean the internet? The connection you’re feeling over OKCupid? 4) What is up with this weird spacing? Okay I’m done.

Until next time…

Menterventions

Goals (you should abide by) in 2012

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Many sites are busting out countdowns and resolutions, recapping infamous moments of the year and twitpic-ing photos of their nails and hair.

I must admit that on Kirbie Goes to Hollywood, I’m guilty of doing a “Best of” segment, but really, who doesn’t want to watch a video of me meeting *NSYNC when I’m 12?

Anyway, I hate resolutions because, like reverse psychology, I feel more compelled to break them. It’s weird. If I don’t fulfill a resolution, it’s like, “Wah, who cares, so did 98% of the rest of the population. Now pass me the butter for this biscuit.” (There goes no carbs!) And, truthfully, some resolutions are so RIDICULOUSLY UNREALISTIC it’s like they were formulated to be broken in the first place. Smokers? Most definitely end up smoking. “No smoking in 2012” should be amended to “Quit smoking this year.” And lose 30 pounds? I don’t have 30 pounds to lose. Yet some years I feel like this is an adequate resolution.

Therefore, here are some goals that each and every one of you should take into account. They’re mostly targeted toward the women, but guys, you could always benefit by knowing our deep, dark secrets:

1. Expect the best, and don’t accept anything less.
When you’re 25, you’re done dealing with drunkards, students, and overall douches that you may have put up with in the past, especially when it comes to simply dating. Take it upon yourself to imagine what a man you would desire looks like and acts like, and then WAIT FOR THAT. I’m not saying don’t date. Give people a chance. They might not come in the package you want, but they might hold more keys to your happiness than your original desired man. Anyway, if you date someone and “it” isn’t there, (“it” being chemistry, sparks, magic, whatever) THEN MOVE ON. Before, I would have said “wait until the second date and see” and you know what? By all means, go on that second date if you’re iffy, but in reality, you can tell from a first date if you have any attraction to the person you’re sitting in front of. Don’t waste your time — it’s precious, as are you. If you don’t hold yourself to higher standards, who will? Nobody is meant to live a mediocre, “blah” kind of life.

The same can be said with your job. If you feel you deserve a raise, take some time to put together a proposal and ask for it. If you feel like your original salary offer is low or you don’t feel does you justice, ask to negotiate. Nine times out of ten if you ask, you’ll receive (at least a compromise).

2. See the red flags and move on. (Read: “BREAK UP WITH YOUR EX BOYFRIEND FOR THE LAST TIME.”)
I always laugh when people talk about breakups because they’re crying (or yelling) “It’s over!” and we all know it’s not. Most times, you break up and there’s a long string of humiliation, stabbing words, and over-analyzation to follow. If you have been “dating” someone for over a year and they won’t commit? It’s probably time to face the music that they don’t want to commit to you. Whether you’re okay with that is up for you to decide. If you’re in an on/off relationship where the person constantly screws up, belittles you and shows no respect for you as a person, and you keep taking them back, then in actuality you are in fact the screwed up individual, who belittles yourself, with no self love (or confidence). Put the nail in the coffin, folks! You can’t move on to bigger and better if you don’t break free from the virus that is your ex. You love(d) them, we understand that, but it’s time to love yourself more. Even if your ex was fabulous and it was an amicable split, please do yourself a solid and cut off the communication. I don’t care what anyone says, being “just friends” as exes almost never works out (unless there’s a divorce somewhere in there) unless there are still feelings present. And the term “just friends” means no sexual attraction or chemistry whatsoever.

It’s like dating that guy in college — he’s great but he ends up breaking your heart, and when you move on, you end up dating the quarterback of the football team. I’d say that’s an upgrade, and possibly worth the heartache you had to sustain with the other dude.

3. FTLOG, stop texting HIM.
I figured out one epic downfall of the woman species is she’s too concerned about showing her affection. Women always need the upper hand, but want to make sure that the guy they’re pining over knows they’re thinking about them. These next few sentences are going to blow you away, as I have been victim of this before and while I relapse every so often, it’s important to NOT DO IT, EVER: don’t text him. For the love of God, don’t do it.

You don’t need a guy to know if you’re interested or thinking of him because guess what? There’s this thing God invented called CHIVALRY and it’s not your job (initially) to seduce and court the male. Now, some asshats would have you believe that this is your duty by never texting you or calling you or whatever — in which case, guess what? He’s not into you. Sorry. However, the guy that really wants to see you and get to know you (and possibly love you?) and is probably worth keeping around? He’s asking you what you’re doing, where you are, and when he can see you next like it’s his full-time, salary + benefits JOB. (In the most non-creepy way, of course. Use your discretion and get a restraining order if need be.)

How pitiful would it be if you married a man that you had to do all the work for? “Yeah, I practically had to BEG dad to take me out to dinner! And now we’re married!” Uh, great? Listen folks, I’m all about women’s rights and being powerful and all of that, but at the end of the day, I’m a lady. I need a man to do his job, which is protect and make me feel like the lady I am — not just that, like a precious jewel so sought after that he feels lucky to even have me to himself. (Maybe this is why I tend to be attracted to extremely tall men?)

Just stop texting him. If he hasn’t texted you in awhile, create some mystery and allure and he’ll come around. If he doesn’t, it’s not your job or problem to worry about. Very similar to the scientific discovery of meeting someone new: when you stop talking to your ex and you’ve found someone else, the ex always seems to come out of the woodwork like magic! Stop being so available that he becomes uninterested.

Guys, you, on the other hand… it’s your job and God-given right as a man to pursue the woman. End of story. Stop being little biotches and do your part, if you truly want to see, date, or be with a woman.

4. Do some things you haven’t.
I need to clarify this before it gets out of hand. If you’re a serial monogamist, and you people know who you are, please take this year to be alone. I highly recommend this for anyone who has recently gotten out of a long-term, serious relationship. Moving on takes time, and jumping into something with someone else means you’re bringing baggage from the past with you, enabling the new relationship to fail. Furthermore, you’re not able to come to terms with some of the things that happened before, or decide what you really want and need. If the thought of being without someone scares you, you are the #1 candidate for a year of solitude. By all means, date, have picnics, take someone out for a drink. Just don’t hightail yourself into a relationship you have no business being in because you want to “feel loved” or need a hard body in your bed. You dig?

At the same rate, are you scared of being in a relationship? DATE! Go out, meet people, explore your options. If nobody tickles your fancy, fine! But don’t give up on finding someone spectacular, for fear you’ll get hurt. Dating can be awful (trust me), but as a mid-20-something, dating is how you meet people, given you don’t want to date your coworkers. Enough said.

5. Finally, believe you are worth better. (And that you can capable of achieving anything!)
I think a lot of confident people struggle with that first sentence. You might have an air about you; feel like you can do anything, that you’re on top of the world, but when it comes to relationships and romance, you settle. STOP DOING THAT. Don’t settle because it’s taking too long to find someone you truly are attracted to. Don’t settle because “Hey, this guy is great and has a lot going for him and my friends like him and I wonder if I’ll find anyone like this again!” except you’re not really into it. Don’t settle because you feel backed into a corner with no way out. If you’re unhappy, ends things.

Much like envisioning losing weight or getting in better shape or quitting smoking, you have to envision (or manifest, as my girl Marina puts it) a wonderful person before you can attain them. Really, it sounds so corny, but a lot of what you do in life depends on if you can see it coming to fruition! So guys, if you are wondering when you’re going to find a girl who will support you and you absolutely can’t live without, envision that you’ll find her. Same goes with you ladies.

Be confident in you who are. The right person always shows up when you least expect it, so stay positive, be focused on you and bettering yourself, and then wait for gifts to be bestowed upon you. Seriously, no athlete desires to win the silver medal, and like that commercial says, nobody aspires to tell a mediocre joke at best (or something like that). Hell, Muhammed Ali didn’t get in the ring and hoped he didn’t get hit — he went in to knock the lights out of his opponent and WIN!

In relationships, sometimes, you gotta get the lights knocked out of you before you can start winning those trophies. (Gotta love this loose analogy). It’s all a part of the plan though.

Happy New Year!

Bachelor, Menterventions

He’s baaaaaaaaaack

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Sometimes, I feel bad for writing these things because, truthfully, it is not in my nature to be malicious. I mean, I cried for three days straight when I found out Santa Claus “died” (yes, not that he wasn’t real — he died) and I still have trouble with negative verdicts in court cases because I believe most people are inherently good, and constantly scrutinize every piece of evidence before deeming someone guilty or not. Except Casey Anthony and OJ Simpson. They’re kray.

So it somewhat pains me to have to write about this guy again. Truth be told, I think he has a lot of issues upstairs, if you know what I mean, girlfran? Like… abandoment issues. I feel like I’m qualified to say that given he’s pretty much spoonfed me his insane life story.

Which brings me to an off-topic yet somewhat relevant point: why do people feel compelled to tell me these things? At this rate, I’m thinking I could get a confession out of OJ before Oprah could. Really. People seemingly feel comfortable telling me absolutely NUTSO things about themselves, and at times they’re not even nuts — they’ll tell me things I have no business knowing, or confide in me deep, dark secrets or emotions when I barely know them, or they let their true egostistical, arrogant selves out of the box. It truly makes no sense. I’m hoping it will help me in my hosting career at least. But seriously, as my dad has always said, “You’re a bum magnet.” Leave it to me to attract men with more than their fair share of mental issues.

I feel I am qualified to diagnose men’s problems because, well, I dated someone that was bipolar. It wasn’t a great relationship, to put it lightly. I actually hope we can find a way to fix this mental disorder because it’s truly depressing to witness, if not completely exhausting — being on cloud nine one minute to complete and utter devestation the next. I also deal with men on a daily basis, as I mentioned, they seem to text me their issues and expect me to resolve their problems, if not construct a perfectly-worded text to send to the woman they met 24-hours prior. (Yes friends, you thought you were the only person I was helping out? Nope.)

So, guess who’s back? This guy. Read up on him. He was persistent, didn’t get the clue, obviously likes a challenge because there’s no way in hell this plus him will ever happen, and is most definitely girl crazy.

The thing about this guy is I’ve told him, to his face, that if he doesn’t stop being a serial monogomist and doesn’t take some “time of solitude” to find himself and figure out what the hell is his problem, he will ruin every relationship he has from here on out. I thought he understood because he was all, “I’m taking your advice!” Yet the next day he’s informed me he invited an ex-intern over to his family’s house for Thanksgiving. #FailCentralStation

Here’s an email exchange that went down the week before I peaced out for Thanksgiving. Admittedly, I did contact him first, but only because my roomie went to lunch with said intern, who mentioned about going to his house for Thanksgiving. I’m blue, he’s black:

11/18/11, 2:37 PM:
So (the roomie) chatted me up about (redacted intern’s name) today…

2:44 PM:
She might by the one Kirbie J

Note: I have to include that this statement is infuriating given a few days before he stood at my desk to inform me his life was in shambles, thanks to a woman he had an affair with, because she slept with her (now) ex-husband on her birthday. Proceed.

2:54PM:
You are an epic dumbass

2:57PM:
You are in a lovely mood today…

2:58PM:
I’m not just saying this, but you are going to ruin this poor woman’s life. Stop jumping from woman to woman! I actually feel bad for her. Get your shit together.

(He is sprawled out like gigalo, in the atrium/lounge area at this point. I am passing him every so often to run to the kitchen.)

4:52PM:
Your hat is cute KGJ

(“G” fo Godzilla. As in “life ruiner” and/or “terror.”)

4:53 PM:
Are you aware that you are giving me great material for my blog?

(Full disclosure! Can’t sue me now…)

4:54 PM:
Exactly what do I get in return?

4:54 PM:
Complete and utter humiliation…?

4:56 PM:
Hmmm. I was gonna go a different way with that. You enrich my life Kirbie. I actually would like this place a lot less if you weren’t here.

(This is where I partially feel like a biotch and partially am shaking my hands in the air going, “Why God, whyyyyyyyyyyyyyy?” Then I read the first sentence again and realize he’s a may-jah skeezeball.)

4:57 PM:
You’re really just a glutton for punishment, I believe…

5:00 PM:
Did it ever occur to you that you actually like me? Let’s text.

(I kept my personal cell phone off the employee phone list for this purpose exactly.)

5:00 PM:
No.

(Deja vu?)

5:02 PM:
Hahahah!

“No.”

I adore you. You utterly crack me up.

5:12 PM:
I have a song you need to hear.

http://youtu.be/rMqayQ-U74s

5:16 PM:
You’re sweet. What are you doing this weekend?

{End Scene}

It was once said that Capricorns are women with a ton of patience. I never believed it until this email exchange. Do you know what it’s like to deal with men who are delusional? If you’re a woman? Yes. If you’re a not? Probably not — you perpetuate other men’s delusional mindsets. I wish I could get paid every time a guy acts like a pompous, egotistical maniac around me — and doesn’t realize it, but alas I suppose I am being punished for something.

Guys, all kidding aside, I have a few suggestions for you dudes out there:

  • Don’t date if you just got out of a relationship. You aren’t ready, even if you cheated or are mentally checked out long before the breakup. “Do you.” As Drake would say, “Ooh I needed that.” In fact, just listen to Drake’s whole album. It hits a tad too close for comfort and some of you guys need to take a long listen.
  • If you go on a date and you feel it went great, but in your gut you’re getting bad signals from the girl, you should probably be aware of this phrase: she’s just not that into you.
  • Don’t try to be someone you’re not. You don’t need someone to edit everything you say and do to impress a woman. Haven’t you seen Hitch? It doesn’t end well if you’re a puppet, using a puppeteer to commandeer women into loving you.
  • Please find the appropriate balance between being “hard to get” and a “good guy.” Don’t confuse those with “an asshole” and “needy.” It’s exasperating and disappointing.

I guess that’s all I can do and say for now. In the end, I suppose it’s up to you to crash and burn before you learn any lessons…

Menterventions

The narcissist

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Let me tell you all this story. For some reason, initially, I had a slight instinct that this may be something that only women in LA deal with — or Taylor Swift. (Love all the Swifty comparisons?) However, upon venturing to Texas this past weekend and chatting with a friend in Chicago, these types men (narcissists) are wreaking havoc (and hell) all around the U.S. As my friend Shauna puts it, “Good men are a dying breed.”

Don’t get me wrong. I’m still hopeful. Surely Clay Matthews will exceed any expectations I may have. (Sorry, I had to.) But how discouraging is it when you go on date and meet guys and they aren’t able to fulfill your expectations? Not just the “maybe he’ll be a keeper” expectation, but even the “maybe we can be friends” expectation?

Or worse, you have no feeling for them at all. You don’t hate them, but you don’t like them either. It’s disappointing. I get it, you’re not going to have sparks nor get along with everyone, but it would be nice to “feel” something, if that makes any sense. I guess that’s God’s way of weeding out people you’re not supposed to be with?

Back to the Taylor Swift reference. I have a theory regarding Swifty: she only dates gays. She’s the Beard of the Year, my friends, and she will date the gays until the cows come home. This serves her two purposes: she doesn’t have to do jack crap with any of them, and when they break up with her, she can write about what a-holes they all are. I mean, she doesn’t knowingly date them because they’re gay. She just wonders why none of them have attempted to grab her boob in, oh, 10 months. The only person, I believe, wasn’t gay? John Mayer. I think he’s probably a real freak in the sheets and has probably flushed the opposite way (how I feel about most men who have had their pick of way too many women), but he’s mostly all for the ovaries.

SO, what I’m definitely not trying to say here is that I date gay men. Nope. I can confidently (well, 99% sure) say that all of my exes were straight. Unlike Swifty, I have a great gaydar, so I know when a man wants a hug-kiss-kiss routine or wants the horizontal handshake, if you get my drift.

Ed is a dude that saw me doing pilates and cardio kickboxing at the gym. I can’t emphasize how CREEPSTATIC it is when a man approaches a female at the gym. Anything you say is going to be weird. “I saw you breaking a real intense sweat in class!” “You have a great body.” “Let me teach you how to properly lift those dumbbells.” “Is your colon swollen?” Just kidding on the last one, but that definitely made me laugh.

I was racing out to my car (it was starting to rain) and he followed me there. It was real creepster-esque and it made me jump when I turned around and noticed him.

“Hi… I’m Ed. I saw you doing pilates and cardio kickboxing. You have a lot of stamina.” (See what I mean? Awkward.)

“Uh… thanks. Who are you?” (I know, rather bitchy.)

“Haha, you’re fiesty! I’m Ed.” (Being a bitch means fiesty if you say “yall” and have blonde hair.)

“Okay, cool.” Awkward silence.

“So, I saw you and I was wondering, do you come here often? Because I have been wanting to take classes and didn’t know how they were.” (Unlucky for me, I am a talker.)

“Oh yeah, they’re great. They get crowded so come early.” Notice the zero ethusiasm in my punctuation, as depicted in my actual tone at that point.

“Well, you have a great body so I need to do whatever you doing!” At this point, I give him the death glare, which basically insinuates “You’re a creep” or “Go to hell,” when he does something that puts me at ease.

The hand flop.

“OH — no.” Hand flop. Shakes his head.

Do you know the hand flop? It’s basically when you’re holding your forearm up towards your shoulder, elbow bent, while the hand flops like a dead fish. Most commonly seen depicted in the movies to insinuate a male is homosexual.

At this point, I made a schiesty move and gave him my number. I figured having a gay accountability partner would great given it would force me to the gym and since most of the gays I know are super critical of people’s appearances, I would work extra hard to not look like a fatass.

So we hit up a few classes. He asks if I’m going to Zumba. Yes. I am. And let me tell you, his hips don’t lie. No man should be able to move their hips like that. I was confident that I had a single homosexual male on my hands, no questions ask.

Maybe after two classes together, I pretty much drop his calls because a) we wouldn’t talk during class, which was bizarre and b) I have nothing tied to this friendship. Apparently Ed was invested because the weekend my cell phone was stolen, I got my new one and had four voicemails in eight hours from him. Side note: voicmails annoy the crap out of me. Unless you’re confirming an appointment or telling me I won a million dollars, there’s no need to blab for five minutes when I can just call you back.

He’s texting me every other day, and at one point I’m at the gym, on the tred, and he’s texting me:

“Hey Kirbie! I think I saw you walk in to the gym. Come by the weight area and say hi!”

Of course I ignore this and finish up my workouts, then peace out. I have no desire to see this person, nor do I think I could have picked his face out of a crowd at this point.

Then, on a Monday morning, after endless no responses and straight up avoidance, I get this gem at 7:30 in the morning:

 

Things:

  • “Gave” you my number? More like I pitied you.
  • “Must have been attracted or interested…” False. Neither. Way to think too highly of yourself. Also, let’s remind ourselves that I’ve avoided your calls and texts for four weeks straight.

The follows up that text with something along the lines of, “I promise you won’t regret it :)” which really pissed me of because I’m already regretful of giving out my number and I hate it when men use smiley faces. So I respond with with the following, that I wish I had saved:

Hey Ed. Two things: A) It’s a tad inappropriate to be texting at 7:30, especially since I’m pretty much a stranger. B) I am sorry if I gave you the wrong impression, however I have a serious boyfriend that I’m very much in love with and I’m not looking to date anyone else. I stopped responding to your texts and would appreciate if you would stop sending them. Thanks for your understanding.

He wrote back with a “I’m sorry, I had no idea about your relationship. Good luck with that. Also, I didn’t realize 7:30 was too early.”

I had been up since 5:00 to work out, but it doesn’t matter. It’s not kosher to be texting someone you don’t know before normal business hours. Plus, this is LA, ED! Half the people here work nights. I’m semi concerned that this issue was so pressing that you felt the need to hash it out at 7:30 in the morning… Furthermore, “You must have been interested or attracted”? Really now? Instant turn off. Not like I was remotely attracted in the first place.

My point is this: why are men such idiots? When looking for a potentinal mate, I don’t ask for a lot. I’d like for him to be a man’s man, with a good heart, who is witty and intelligent, but not overbearing. I think most women will agree with me when I say I want a man. Someone who is confident in his own right but is always humble and does what is right because, well, it’s right. Not someone who is going to boast about everything, or change who he is for people to like him, or act like a child who has no control over his life. Who stays true to his word, isn’t a flake, and doesn’t play games.

Is that too much to ask?

Ladies, can I get an amen?