Having hung up my online dating hat, it came time to try out my roommate's "fool proof" way of meeting dudes: by watching football. 2 problems with this:
1. Games on the west coast start way early. You want me in a bar looking cute by 10am on a Saturday? Not likely.
2. I care about football about as much as Lindsay Lohan cares about the rules of her probation. That is to say: I don't.
But whatever. I look cute in the Matt Ryan jersey my die-hard Falcons fan of a roommate got me for Christmas, so I decided it couldn't hurt to give it a shot.
We went to a southern bar in Santa Monica for the Falcons vs. Packers play off game. (WE HATE GREENBAY!!!) We were decked out in our Falcons gear and within 10 minutes of the game starting we had been invited to join a big table of rowdy Atlanta fans. Nobody cute there but whatever, unattractive dudes are still capable of buying me drinks.
Sometime during the 2nd quarter (inning? whatever.) a tall, dark, and handsome gentleman came in to meet his buddies who were sitting at the table next to us. OK so at first I didn't find him to be that handsome. And when he started cheering for Green Bay he became even LESS desirable. But this (and some vodka) made me comfortable enough to act like my usual tipsy, slightly belligerent self. I started giving him a hard time for cheering for the enemy and soon we were talking about anything but football.
Lo and behold I'd somehow stumbled upon a nice, seemingly genuine, smart, gainfully employed (as an attorney! Not a bartender!), guy in the middle of a bar full of sports fans. I thought this only happened in the movies!
We exchanged information and color me shocked, he texted me the next day to see if I wanted to hang out. Though of course, this being LA and me being jaded, this made me more suspicious than giddy. It was a three day weekend so when I said I wasn't available that day (Sunday) he asked what I was doing on my day off.
Easy there, cowboy.
I behaved like the shady guys I've dated for the past year and he called me out on it. He said he thought we were getting along great on Saturday but if I wasn't interested that's cool. I said that I was interested, just a little overwhelmed. Then he said, ok cool, you're in charge now. Now you're speaking my language.
So a date was planned for later in the week. I'm cautiously optimistic but really just hoping for some good blog material, not my happy ending. (err..not THAT kind of happy ending. Though I'd be ok with that. Maybe.) But since the universe loves to fuck with me, who knows what could happen? I'm just along for the ride.
Girls want a lot of things from one guy. Conversely, guys want one thing from a lot of girls,
LL
Monday, February 14, 2011
Friday, February 11, 2011
Superjew
What do you think of when you hear of the town of Cherry Hill, NJ?
Well, if you're my mother you think, "Oh, he's jewish."
Before you start penning strongly worded letters about the intolerance of my family, my mother was born and raised in New Jersey, long before the era of fist pumping. This was simply a statement of fact and the first thing that came to mind when I told her I was going on a date with a guy from Cherry Hill. It caught me off guard and of course, I had to tell said Jewish guy that I was going on date with what my mom said, which he found hilarious. Thus, the name Superjew was born.
I met Superjew on the dating website, right around Thanksgiving. It was a bit of a unique situation because he was based out of LA, but currently living and working in NYC. So we spent quite a bit of time playing the getting to know you game via email. Long philosophical messages were exchanged, inside jokes were created...and I was sure that when we met in person it was going to be a disaster.
We met in person at Christmas in NYC. Before your mind starts filling with images of us locking eyes across Rockefeller Center and embracing under the Christmas tree (everyone knows a good jew can still appreciate a Christmas tree), let me tell you it was freezing, he was late, and we met in a restaurant. Sorry to burst your Carrie Bradshaw bubble.
Superjew was shorter than me (as most Jewish men are), but it didn't bother him, which was cool. As time went on I began to realize it was "cool-bordering-on-fetishist" but whatever. I'd rather have a guy who appreciates my long limbs than a man with a Napoleonic complex who is constantly challenging me to arm wrestling matches.
I broke my "drinks only" first date rule and had a full dinner with him. I figured if I had traveled 3000 miles, the least I could do was get a free meal out of it. (full disclosure: I was at my aunt's house for the holidays and she lives in the NYC area, so I wasn't actually being as generous as I like to portray myself.)
Superjew and I had spent a lot of time talking about fitness and working out and our exercise regimes. I appreciate a guy who works out as seriously as I do, but I was a little wary of the fact that ne'er an email or phone call went by without him asking how much I was working out that week. I figured he was just trying to force a feeling of intimacy by making it "our thing" but I was finding "our thing" really annoying. More warning flags were waved when, after I declined to partake in the bread basket, he said, "Good choice. Bread is nothing but simple sugar." Judge my shoes, judge my hair, but do NOT judge my food. I have enough of a complex on my own without your help thank you.
I realized I was being harsh though, since I had willingly participated in all of these fitness and nutrition discussions. So he probably thought he was impressing me with this knowledge, not making me want to call my therapist. Onward!
The rest of the date was perfectly acceptable and lovely. No nausea inducing butterflies, but no urge to punch him in the throat either. He kissed me, walked me to my train, and home I went. We continued texting and emailing throughout the holidays and in January he was coming back to LA. Great.
Superjew had a deprecating sense of humor, but the problem was, it wasn't self deprecating, it was LL (that's me) deprecating. If I didn't answer the phone on the first ring, he gave me a hard time. If I didn't sound enthused enough when I said, hello, he gave me a hard time. I began to notice that I couldn't say anything, fact or opinion, without Superjew telling me why I was wrong.
Note to men: that's annoying.
The final straw came when I was talking to him as he was waiting for his flight to LA. He began the conversation as he always did: by asking me how much I'd worked out that week and how my body was looking. I said I had gone to the gym 4 days in a row but taken today off and he called me a slacker. I gritted my teeth and defended myself. He didn't pick up on my annoyance and switched gears to ask me about the weather. I looked it up online and told him that in my neck of the woods, it would be about 65 which meant that down by the beach where he lived, it would probably be about 62, 63.
His response? "Well, what do those weather people know anyway? It's not like this kind of thing can be predicted."
I had had enough. I laughed, loudly, and said, "Actually, yes that can. That's what a weather forecaster DOES!" He grumbled, dismissed me, and told me he had to go because his plane was boarding.
When I hung up my observant co-worker apologized for eavesdropping (not that that could be avoided, I'm a loud talker) but she couldn't help but hear how I was defending the fact that I had worked out 4 days in a row but clearly the person on the other end of the line didn't think that was enough, and that that was kind of a jerky thing for him to be saying.
Eureka!
She was absolutely right. And for once, I felt no guilt about sending him a thanks but no thanks email.
(Yeah, yeah, I know, email is a bitch move, but hey, in my defense, he was on a plane so he wasn't going to answer my call anyway.)
And thus, the end of my online dating experience. Back to meeting men the old fashioned way: by being drunk and slutty. Ahhh, it's good to be back!
Let's have a party and invite your pants to come on down,
LL
Well, if you're my mother you think, "Oh, he's jewish."
Before you start penning strongly worded letters about the intolerance of my family, my mother was born and raised in New Jersey, long before the era of fist pumping. This was simply a statement of fact and the first thing that came to mind when I told her I was going on a date with a guy from Cherry Hill. It caught me off guard and of course, I had to tell said Jewish guy that I was going on date with what my mom said, which he found hilarious. Thus, the name Superjew was born.
I met Superjew on the dating website, right around Thanksgiving. It was a bit of a unique situation because he was based out of LA, but currently living and working in NYC. So we spent quite a bit of time playing the getting to know you game via email. Long philosophical messages were exchanged, inside jokes were created...and I was sure that when we met in person it was going to be a disaster.
We met in person at Christmas in NYC. Before your mind starts filling with images of us locking eyes across Rockefeller Center and embracing under the Christmas tree (everyone knows a good jew can still appreciate a Christmas tree), let me tell you it was freezing, he was late, and we met in a restaurant. Sorry to burst your Carrie Bradshaw bubble.
Superjew was shorter than me (as most Jewish men are), but it didn't bother him, which was cool. As time went on I began to realize it was "cool-bordering-on-fetishist" but whatever. I'd rather have a guy who appreciates my long limbs than a man with a Napoleonic complex who is constantly challenging me to arm wrestling matches.
I broke my "drinks only" first date rule and had a full dinner with him. I figured if I had traveled 3000 miles, the least I could do was get a free meal out of it. (full disclosure: I was at my aunt's house for the holidays and she lives in the NYC area, so I wasn't actually being as generous as I like to portray myself.)
Superjew and I had spent a lot of time talking about fitness and working out and our exercise regimes. I appreciate a guy who works out as seriously as I do, but I was a little wary of the fact that ne'er an email or phone call went by without him asking how much I was working out that week. I figured he was just trying to force a feeling of intimacy by making it "our thing" but I was finding "our thing" really annoying. More warning flags were waved when, after I declined to partake in the bread basket, he said, "Good choice. Bread is nothing but simple sugar." Judge my shoes, judge my hair, but do NOT judge my food. I have enough of a complex on my own without your help thank you.
I realized I was being harsh though, since I had willingly participated in all of these fitness and nutrition discussions. So he probably thought he was impressing me with this knowledge, not making me want to call my therapist. Onward!
The rest of the date was perfectly acceptable and lovely. No nausea inducing butterflies, but no urge to punch him in the throat either. He kissed me, walked me to my train, and home I went. We continued texting and emailing throughout the holidays and in January he was coming back to LA. Great.
Superjew had a deprecating sense of humor, but the problem was, it wasn't self deprecating, it was LL (that's me) deprecating. If I didn't answer the phone on the first ring, he gave me a hard time. If I didn't sound enthused enough when I said, hello, he gave me a hard time. I began to notice that I couldn't say anything, fact or opinion, without Superjew telling me why I was wrong.
Note to men: that's annoying.
The final straw came when I was talking to him as he was waiting for his flight to LA. He began the conversation as he always did: by asking me how much I'd worked out that week and how my body was looking. I said I had gone to the gym 4 days in a row but taken today off and he called me a slacker. I gritted my teeth and defended myself. He didn't pick up on my annoyance and switched gears to ask me about the weather. I looked it up online and told him that in my neck of the woods, it would be about 65 which meant that down by the beach where he lived, it would probably be about 62, 63.
His response? "Well, what do those weather people know anyway? It's not like this kind of thing can be predicted."
I had had enough. I laughed, loudly, and said, "Actually, yes that can. That's what a weather forecaster DOES!" He grumbled, dismissed me, and told me he had to go because his plane was boarding.
When I hung up my observant co-worker apologized for eavesdropping (not that that could be avoided, I'm a loud talker) but she couldn't help but hear how I was defending the fact that I had worked out 4 days in a row but clearly the person on the other end of the line didn't think that was enough, and that that was kind of a jerky thing for him to be saying.
Eureka!
She was absolutely right. And for once, I felt no guilt about sending him a thanks but no thanks email.
(Yeah, yeah, I know, email is a bitch move, but hey, in my defense, he was on a plane so he wasn't going to answer my call anyway.)
And thus, the end of my online dating experience. Back to meeting men the old fashioned way: by being drunk and slutty. Ahhh, it's good to be back!
Let's have a party and invite your pants to come on down,
LL
Monday, September 6, 2010
The Others
I like to think that I'm the ONLY person who's ever done a blog about dating. I know that's not REALLY true, I just prefer to not think about my "competition", much like I prefer not to think about the other chicks a guy I'm dating is seeing. So, when thinking about these other blogs, I tell myself what I tell myself about the other women: clearly I am prettier, funnier, smarter, more successful, more laid back, skinnier...wait what?
Where was I?
Oh right, the other blogs. I mean, OBVIOUSLY I like to think MY blog is the wittiest, most entertaining dating blog out there. But every now and then I come across another writer with a similar voice who is witty and sarcastic as well as entertaining and introspective. Kristen McGuiness is one of those writers.
You can check out her blog/website here.
And Kristen is clearly all the things I am: pretty, funny, smart, successful, laid back....only she's all these things AND she has a book deal. Thus, I hate her.
I kid, I kid. Congrats, Kristen!
Whatever women do they must do twice as well as men to be thought half as good. Luckily, this is not difficult,
LL
Where was I?
Oh right, the other blogs. I mean, OBVIOUSLY I like to think MY blog is the wittiest, most entertaining dating blog out there. But every now and then I come across another writer with a similar voice who is witty and sarcastic as well as entertaining and introspective. Kristen McGuiness is one of those writers.
You can check out her blog/website here.
And Kristen is clearly all the things I am: pretty, funny, smart, successful, laid back....only she's all these things AND she has a book deal. Thus, I hate her.
I kid, I kid. Congrats, Kristen!
Whatever women do they must do twice as well as men to be thought half as good. Luckily, this is not difficult,
LL
Sunday, September 5, 2010
Teenage Dream
So, in our first week of dating Teenage Dream and I saw each other 4 times in 6 days. Color me smitten, but he makes it easy. He's fun, we get along, he tolerates my mocking the Republican candidate he works for, it's like hanging out with a friend. (Just a friend who's pants I want to take off.)
The fact that he showed up for our third date in a chauffeured Mercedes so we wouldn't have to worry about drinking and driving didn't hurt things either. (Seriously, who's life is this?!)
But, like most of my 'relationships' we're entering week 3 and things are starting to fizzle. I'm beginning to develop a complex about this. *I* was hesitant the first week. He was very vocal about how into me he was; he even talked about how he didn't like the idea of me with other guys but being the suspicious person that I am, I put the kibosh on that kind of talk because I am not one who rushes into a relationship. Even when they're driven by a chauffeured luxury vehicle.
It seems that when I started to relax and be more responsive, put myself out there a little more, show him some more affection...he pulled back.
Guys, I get it, you like the chase. So I'm pulling back too. But it still sucks and it creates trust issues when it is WAY too early for there to be any! Now I am back to second guessing myself before I contact him, not wanting to contact him, and certainly not letting him see the real me. I mean, to a point I can only be myself; no matter HOW much I like a guy, I am never going to laugh at bad jokes or play damsel in distress. But come on! 2 weeks ago when he hadn't seen me in 2 days he was telling me he missed me. Now he's gone to NYC for a week and I haven't heard a thing from him?
I'm putting way too much stock into this guy and I know it. Hell, if I took all the energy I put into dating and analyzing men I'd probably have cured cancer by now. (But then there'd be no blog. And even with the intermittent updates, I like the blog.) But man would I just like to date someone for more than 3 weeks and feel secure as to where I stand with them and like maybe there's a future for me with someone.
I've let my online dating membership expire because frankly, I'm tired. I'm tired of the small talk, the getting all done up just to be let down, and the going out for drinks when I'd rather be home walking the dog.
For now I'm going to continue overanalyzing myself and attempting to meet dudes the old fashioned way: by drinking too much and wearing too little.
Bisexuality immediately doubles your chances for a date on Saturday night,
LL
The fact that he showed up for our third date in a chauffeured Mercedes so we wouldn't have to worry about drinking and driving didn't hurt things either. (Seriously, who's life is this?!)
But, like most of my 'relationships' we're entering week 3 and things are starting to fizzle. I'm beginning to develop a complex about this. *I* was hesitant the first week. He was very vocal about how into me he was; he even talked about how he didn't like the idea of me with other guys but being the suspicious person that I am, I put the kibosh on that kind of talk because I am not one who rushes into a relationship. Even when they're driven by a chauffeured luxury vehicle.
It seems that when I started to relax and be more responsive, put myself out there a little more, show him some more affection...he pulled back.
Guys, I get it, you like the chase. So I'm pulling back too. But it still sucks and it creates trust issues when it is WAY too early for there to be any! Now I am back to second guessing myself before I contact him, not wanting to contact him, and certainly not letting him see the real me. I mean, to a point I can only be myself; no matter HOW much I like a guy, I am never going to laugh at bad jokes or play damsel in distress. But come on! 2 weeks ago when he hadn't seen me in 2 days he was telling me he missed me. Now he's gone to NYC for a week and I haven't heard a thing from him?
I'm putting way too much stock into this guy and I know it. Hell, if I took all the energy I put into dating and analyzing men I'd probably have cured cancer by now. (But then there'd be no blog. And even with the intermittent updates, I like the blog.) But man would I just like to date someone for more than 3 weeks and feel secure as to where I stand with them and like maybe there's a future for me with someone.
I've let my online dating membership expire because frankly, I'm tired. I'm tired of the small talk, the getting all done up just to be let down, and the going out for drinks when I'd rather be home walking the dog.
For now I'm going to continue overanalyzing myself and attempting to meet dudes the old fashioned way: by drinking too much and wearing too little.
Bisexuality immediately doubles your chances for a date on Saturday night,
LL
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Here's to you, Mrs. Robinson....
Randomly, one night I found myself hanging out again with Millionaire. We were talking about business and money and happiness and I presented him with my ideas of what would eventually result in making me happy:
Money
a hot older man
ummm....?
He pretty much read me the riot act and presented the falsehoods of these 2 ideas. He told me he wasn't surprised I couldn't find happiness because I was simply dating the same man over and over again and expecting a different outcome each time. He said I needed to expand my horizons some more.
I told him he needed to take his hands off the zipper of my jeans.
But, Millionaire made a point that actually resonated with me and I decided to test out this little theory of his. I mean, he didn't become a millionaire by being a dumb ass. There had to be something to this thought process, right?
The next day presented me with just the opportunity I was looking for: a 25 year old winked at me on Match. My natural inclination was to delete the email. What could a fresh out of college, still living a fratastic existence guy possibly have that would interest me?
Oh universe, you do so love to laugh in my face, don't you?
Mr. 25, whom I have since nicknamed Teenage Dream, turned out to be quite interesting and fun to talk to. We gchatted for about 2 weeks prior to our date. Yes, I know, gchat is usually the kiss of death to my developing relationships, which is probably secretly why I had no problem engaging in this with him pre-date. Then at least I could say, "Hey, I tried. What am I going to do about an unbreakable pattern?" I even told him this. In nicer terms of course but he had just joined Match so I imparted wisdom to him like the responsible elder that I am. I explained that sure, it's all fun and games over gchat but that doesn't mean ANYTHING for the real world. He assured me that he is just the same in person as he is online.
*sigh* Ah youth, you just don't get it, do you?
So, we set a date, I got all dolled up in my usual "first date" duds, and I met him. 15 minutes late of course. He was just as cute, and tall, in person as he had said in his profile. (Which was a relief because during one of our gchats he asked me if I would be mad if he had exaggerated on his profile and he was actually 5'8. Before I could block him he told me he was kidding. Thank god.)
And you know what? Our date was pretty flawless! We talked, we laughed, he asked me questions about myself and offered up his own information. It felt very relaxed and natural and FUN. After "Eh", this was a welcome change!
The only thing I noticed that could be chalked up to his youth is that he liked to bar hop. On a Tuesday. What? But, I went with the program and even dropped my car off at home between bars and had him drive me. I know, I'm just asking to show up on the next Dateline special, but this kid--SHIT, there I go again--I mean, this gentleman seemed very innocent.
Plus, I knew I wanted to swoop in for a good night kiss.
And I did.
I'm seeing him again this weekend.
Blessed are the young, for they will inherit the national debt,
LL
Money
a hot older man
ummm....?
He pretty much read me the riot act and presented the falsehoods of these 2 ideas. He told me he wasn't surprised I couldn't find happiness because I was simply dating the same man over and over again and expecting a different outcome each time. He said I needed to expand my horizons some more.
I told him he needed to take his hands off the zipper of my jeans.
But, Millionaire made a point that actually resonated with me and I decided to test out this little theory of his. I mean, he didn't become a millionaire by being a dumb ass. There had to be something to this thought process, right?
The next day presented me with just the opportunity I was looking for: a 25 year old winked at me on Match. My natural inclination was to delete the email. What could a fresh out of college, still living a fratastic existence guy possibly have that would interest me?
Oh universe, you do so love to laugh in my face, don't you?
Mr. 25, whom I have since nicknamed Teenage Dream, turned out to be quite interesting and fun to talk to. We gchatted for about 2 weeks prior to our date. Yes, I know, gchat is usually the kiss of death to my developing relationships, which is probably secretly why I had no problem engaging in this with him pre-date. Then at least I could say, "Hey, I tried. What am I going to do about an unbreakable pattern?" I even told him this. In nicer terms of course but he had just joined Match so I imparted wisdom to him like the responsible elder that I am. I explained that sure, it's all fun and games over gchat but that doesn't mean ANYTHING for the real world. He assured me that he is just the same in person as he is online.
*sigh* Ah youth, you just don't get it, do you?
So, we set a date, I got all dolled up in my usual "first date" duds, and I met him. 15 minutes late of course. He was just as cute, and tall, in person as he had said in his profile. (Which was a relief because during one of our gchats he asked me if I would be mad if he had exaggerated on his profile and he was actually 5'8. Before I could block him he told me he was kidding. Thank god.)
And you know what? Our date was pretty flawless! We talked, we laughed, he asked me questions about myself and offered up his own information. It felt very relaxed and natural and FUN. After "Eh", this was a welcome change!
The only thing I noticed that could be chalked up to his youth is that he liked to bar hop. On a Tuesday. What? But, I went with the program and even dropped my car off at home between bars and had him drive me. I know, I'm just asking to show up on the next Dateline special, but this kid--SHIT, there I go again--I mean, this gentleman seemed very innocent.
Plus, I knew I wanted to swoop in for a good night kiss.
And I did.
I'm seeing him again this weekend.
Blessed are the young, for they will inherit the national debt,
LL
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
"Eh."
That's all I can say about my date on Sunday: Eh.
One day an email popped up in my online dating box from a handsome latin man of about 30. In a non-creepy way he told me he had a 'thing' for redheads. Usually I'm leery of anyone with some kind of 'fetish' but this one appealed to my ego, so ok I'll give it a shot. We exchanged a few emails and made plans to meet. He was a bit over eager and when I told him on a Tuesday I was available on Sunday for brunch, he said he'd agree to that if we could fit in coffee or something before then. Sorry bucko, but I'm not rearranging my schedule before I even meet you for the first time.
So, Sunday arrives and we planned to have brunch by the beach. I put on my favorite maxi dress that I feel classy but not overdone in, put beachy waves in my hair, and I'm off! I'm the picture of LA on a Sunday morning.
I have sat here for the past 10 minutes trying to come up with how to gracefully begin the next paragraph and I can't find the words. So I guess I'll just be honest:
This date taught me that I am a snob.
*sigh*
Eh showed up in a Beatles t-shirt and jeans, to the cramped cafe he had chosen, 15 minutes late. Now, I am late CONSTANTLY so I am the last person to judge someone for not being on time, but the first date fashion choices? And the venue? Just NOT my thing. I realize this makes me a completely superficial snob. But I also realize I have to make peace with that part of my personality. And sometimes you've just gotta know when it's not right for you.
I know I joke about men with money and the like, and I know that deep down I could never be with a guy just because he's stinking rich. I DO need to ENJOY being with the person I choose to be with. However, I have to finally admit to myself that I AM a snob and a certain level of classiness (that usually is accompanied by a certain income) is what makes me happy. I can't be that girl who'd be happy with the starving artist in the Beatles t-shirt and be amused by nights fancying up our Ramen noodles because that's all we can afford for dinner.
So, there you have it. I am officially a pretentious, superficial bitch.
And I'm strangely ok with that.
While money can't buy happiness, it certainly lets you choose your own form of misery,
LL
One day an email popped up in my online dating box from a handsome latin man of about 30. In a non-creepy way he told me he had a 'thing' for redheads. Usually I'm leery of anyone with some kind of 'fetish' but this one appealed to my ego, so ok I'll give it a shot. We exchanged a few emails and made plans to meet. He was a bit over eager and when I told him on a Tuesday I was available on Sunday for brunch, he said he'd agree to that if we could fit in coffee or something before then. Sorry bucko, but I'm not rearranging my schedule before I even meet you for the first time.
So, Sunday arrives and we planned to have brunch by the beach. I put on my favorite maxi dress that I feel classy but not overdone in, put beachy waves in my hair, and I'm off! I'm the picture of LA on a Sunday morning.
I have sat here for the past 10 minutes trying to come up with how to gracefully begin the next paragraph and I can't find the words. So I guess I'll just be honest:
This date taught me that I am a snob.
*sigh*
Eh showed up in a Beatles t-shirt and jeans, to the cramped cafe he had chosen, 15 minutes late. Now, I am late CONSTANTLY so I am the last person to judge someone for not being on time, but the first date fashion choices? And the venue? Just NOT my thing. I realize this makes me a completely superficial snob. But I also realize I have to make peace with that part of my personality. And sometimes you've just gotta know when it's not right for you.
I know I joke about men with money and the like, and I know that deep down I could never be with a guy just because he's stinking rich. I DO need to ENJOY being with the person I choose to be with. However, I have to finally admit to myself that I AM a snob and a certain level of classiness (that usually is accompanied by a certain income) is what makes me happy. I can't be that girl who'd be happy with the starving artist in the Beatles t-shirt and be amused by nights fancying up our Ramen noodles because that's all we can afford for dinner.
So, there you have it. I am officially a pretentious, superficial bitch.
And I'm strangely ok with that.
While money can't buy happiness, it certainly lets you choose your own form of misery,
LL
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
The Players....literally.
With this newfound "devil may care" attitude, I've already got a few gents lined up. Mostly "flashback" gentlemen that I've been involved with before, but interesting none the less.
Millionaire - Yes. He's back. In an effort to keep from going all crazypants on the last Match guy I dated, I texted him in a moment of weakness. (1 bottle of wine + Sting concert = weakness) He responded. He's been bugging me to hang out but in typical Millionaire fashion: texting me at 7:30 the night he wants to see me (and by see me I mean "get laid"). So far I've ignored these advances. The second he invites me to hang out by his infinity pool however? Game on.
SEAL - 5 years ago I met a Navy Seal at a military conference in DC where I was working. (I worked for the feds at the time, and let me tell you, the feds = GREAT dating pool. Unfortunately the majority of the candidates will wax poetic about Bush...and not in a good way, if you get my drift.) I went on one date with him, met his friend, and somehow ended up in a relationship with his friend for a year. Whoops! Out of NOWHERE, the original SEAL contacted me last week. Turns out he moved to England and is coming back to LA for a visit. We emailed back and forth a bit and he seems like less of a douchebag than he was so I invited him to visit. As long as he understood that there was to be NO AGENDA upon his arrival. At least not til he got a cocktail...or 5...in me. He agreed. He even puts up with me when I call him Father Time(he's a whopping 9 years older than me). He has been mistaken for Bradley Cooper, he's in Navy Seal shape, and he's coming to stay with me for 3 days. WIN.
There is also a random (RICH) producer I'm talking to from my Match days, but he may prove just to be good for some day drinking of fancy wine. And I'm ok with that.
I went through this phase - Am I gay? Am I straight? And then I realized... I'm just slutty. Where's my parade?,
LL
Millionaire - Yes. He's back. In an effort to keep from going all crazypants on the last Match guy I dated, I texted him in a moment of weakness. (1 bottle of wine + Sting concert = weakness) He responded. He's been bugging me to hang out but in typical Millionaire fashion: texting me at 7:30 the night he wants to see me (and by see me I mean "get laid"). So far I've ignored these advances. The second he invites me to hang out by his infinity pool however? Game on.
SEAL - 5 years ago I met a Navy Seal at a military conference in DC where I was working. (I worked for the feds at the time, and let me tell you, the feds = GREAT dating pool. Unfortunately the majority of the candidates will wax poetic about Bush...and not in a good way, if you get my drift.) I went on one date with him, met his friend, and somehow ended up in a relationship with his friend for a year. Whoops! Out of NOWHERE, the original SEAL contacted me last week. Turns out he moved to England and is coming back to LA for a visit. We emailed back and forth a bit and he seems like less of a douchebag than he was so I invited him to visit. As long as he understood that there was to be NO AGENDA upon his arrival. At least not til he got a cocktail...or 5...in me. He agreed. He even puts up with me when I call him Father Time(he's a whopping 9 years older than me). He has been mistaken for Bradley Cooper, he's in Navy Seal shape, and he's coming to stay with me for 3 days. WIN.
There is also a random (RICH) producer I'm talking to from my Match days, but he may prove just to be good for some day drinking of fancy wine. And I'm ok with that.
I went through this phase - Am I gay? Am I straight? And then I realized... I'm just slutty. Where's my parade?,
LL
I'm baaaaaaaack!
I know, I've said it a million times before, but this time? I mean it. I'm back. Funnily enough, I'm back sans online dating membership. But wait, you say. How is that possible? This blog is ABOUT your online dating experiences. True, my friends, you are very astute readers. But .com dating wasn't working for me so it's back to trying things the old fashioned way.
Inspired by my roomie's recent newfound singledom (SHE DID IT! HALLELUJAH!), and looking for a distraction from some not so pleasant events in my life at the moment, time to date. And I mean, for real, "I need a free dinner not a relationship" dating. Everyone says you find someone when you're not looking, right? Well, right now I sure as hell am NOT looking. I'm spending my summer at Skybar and am so preoccupied with other things going on that I really don't give a flying fish what men think of me. In a way, I'm looking for douchebags JUST to have some blog material.
Let the games begin.
Inspired by my roomie's recent newfound singledom (SHE DID IT! HALLELUJAH!), and looking for a distraction from some not so pleasant events in my life at the moment, time to date. And I mean, for real, "I need a free dinner not a relationship" dating. Everyone says you find someone when you're not looking, right? Well, right now I sure as hell am NOT looking. I'm spending my summer at Skybar and am so preoccupied with other things going on that I really don't give a flying fish what men think of me. In a way, I'm looking for douchebags JUST to have some blog material.
Let the games begin.
Sunday, May 30, 2010
All right, all right....
....I'm giving this whole blogging thing a try again. Summer lovin' season is upon us so let's enjoy it while we can and revel in my triumphs and failures.
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