It’s been a really, really, really long time since I’ve said this but: I have a boyfriend.
It is not a random boy – it is Brad. We made up and talked about everything that had happened in the past and decided we were going to move forward. And I’m really happy. Continue reading
The other day my friend Betty got a second job. She’s going to be working as a nail technician, doing manicures in a chic little boutique.
After she excitedly texted me about the job, she said, “I’d say maybe I’ll meet a rich, handsome Christian Gey type that will sweep me off of my feet, but realistically the only men that would shop there are gay, lol.”
I don’t think it’s fair that some girls get to be loved unconditionally, while others are forced to deal with jerk after jerk, yearning for attention, crying constantly over thei mistreatment.
The other day I was listening ot my my friend Charlie talk about how much he loves his wife (they’re newlyweds), and how he realized he realy knew what love was before he met her.
My answer: Charlie, you make me sick. Continue reading
“But all my friends are reading it!” my mom half-laughed, half-pleaded her case last night.
“I’m sorry, but I cannot in clear conscience allow you to read this pornographic book. You’re just too old,” I replied.
About two weeks ago, when I was still reading my other book, my mom mentioned that she had heard about this book called 50 Shades of Grey, and she wanted to read it.
Already having the scoop about the book from two of best friends, Megan (who recommended it to me) and Kaitlin (who was currently reading the eBook I had purchased), I knew it was a bad idea.
I’ve written about how I find it funny that my 10-year-old cousin has the same dating problems as I do. Lately she’s been the only one of my friends who’s actually making me feel better about my bad experiences with guys (and friends).
Her two insights (and, remember, she is ten but secretly 30 and reincarnated):
I was thinking of writing one of my short and sweet titles, but I felt that, in this case, the actual truth is way funnier than any witty little rhyme I could come up with. My friend Jackie recently told me a story about how a guy she didn’t even like very much – and wasn’t going out with – dumped her for another girl.
After about three weeks of constantly text messages and attention from – let’s call him Lou – Jackie received a phone call from him.
“Hi, Jackie, umm, well there’s really no nice way to say this. I’ve been dating someone else while I was dating you and I’m going to be exclusive with her.” Continue reading
As you know, I am an expert in bad relationships and breakups. So, yes, I do understand how hard it is to leave someone that you love. I know that how hard it is to leave someone that you like. Or have great sexual chemistry with. Or get attention from. The list goes on and on. There’s an endless array of reasons we refuse to leave the person that’s making our lives a living Hell. The irony is that we think if we do leave them, our lives will be a living Hell. Yet they’re the cause of our current Hell. So , in reality, is there any difference?
I recently wrote a blog post about my friend Kate and her stupid ass sort-of boyfriend, Mike. I say “sort of” because (1) He’s a jackass and (2) She may be going away for law school, so it was pretty much understood from the beginning that their relationship wasn’t going to be very serious. Nonetheless, as with 99% of us girls, she began to get attached to him.
One night, after having a huge fight over the fact that he refuses to pick her up at her apartment, she finally asked him what he wanted out of “this.” Continue reading
My friend Kate is legitimately one of the funniest people I know. Normally I only laugh at my own jokes, but this girl never ceases to crack me up when we get together. As I’ve posted already, we recently got today and dished about our not-so-love lives.
As rude, nasty, unaffectionate, and immature her sort-of boyfriend is, the guy is loaded. We found out that he pays almost 4 grand a month for his apartment in the city… and he drives a Porsche convertible.
I usually get attacked or criticized for being my usual confident self. But, the thing is, I’m not really sure why everyone has such a problem with confidence. When I meet someone who is happy with how they look or who they are, I take an instant liking to them.
Some of my readers left comments inquiring whether or not I get angry when negativity and anger is aimed at me. The answer to that question is “no.” My mother always told me that when someone is trying to pick a fight with me, I should walk the other way.
In this case, I simply click the other way. Because there are always going to be people who dislike you and there are always going to be people who don’t necessarily dislike you, but they have such self-loathing that they project their hatred onto you because…you’re there.
This, my friends and frenemies, should never hinder your confidence. Lady Gaga bans ice from her concerts because she’s afraid crazed people will throw it at her. Does she stop her career? No! She gets crazier! I relate to her oh so much, fans 
Continue reading
When I was sixteen, my high school sweetheart broke my heart. We only dated for a few months, but I was distraught when I broke up with him for being incredibly neglectful and friend-centered, as many seventeen-year-old boys will be (No, ladies, Edward was not really 17, he was actually 106, remember?).
Anyway, I’ll never forget calling my best friend Kerry and sobbing over the loss. I had turned on the radio to cheer myself up (a post-breakup mistake I never made again) and what was playing? I’ll Never Break Your Heart by The Backstreet Boys — his favorite band. Yes, I am aware that it is incredibly effeminate for a guy to love The Backstreet Boys and, no, the fact that he spent more time with his guy best friend than me didn’t escape me when we broke up, but anyway…the point was just how sad and ironic the song was at the time.
“I wanted to marry him. I need him back,” I cried for days on end. My godmother gave me this advice: “Jen, I hear you; I really do. But do me a favor – one favor. Go out with just one other boy before you get back together with this one. See how it goes. Then, if you still want to, get back with him. Okay?” I agreed, but really just wanted him. He was my first real boyfriend, my first kiss, and the first boy to ever pay any real attention to me, truly boosting my self-esteem. Now, not only did I feel the loneliness I had before meeting him, but it was ten times more heartbreaking bexause I knew what it felt like to “love” someone, be “loved,” and lose it all (Isn’t puppy love grand?) Continue reading
There are so many amazingly talented people out there who just can’t seem to get their big break. I happened to have been given an AMAZING opportunity by TJ the DJ and Elvis Duran to speak live on z100 last week, which sky-rocketed the hits to my website and got me a ton of great readers and commenters. There are a few people I know that deserve their own amazing opportunity, because they truly are talented and would go so far in life if simply given the chance.
Missy Fiore: One of my best friends in the whole world, Missy has been an amazingly talented R&B, Pop and Soul singer for as long as I can remember. She has done over one hundred concerts, recorded an album overseas, and worked with some of the greatest singers of all time. In the words of my mother from back in high school, Missy Fiore has a certain “sparkle” to her. She is one of those people (like me!) that you look at and think, “Damn, that girl’s gonna be famous one day.” Check out her songs on Youtube and follow her on Twitter – https://twitter.com/#!/Missy_Fiore – and you’ll be instantly hooked and fans for life. I guarantee it.
PS, she’s also a kick-ass makeup artist for Mac and a hair stylist. If you’re ever in need of looking so fabulous that all of your friends are jealous, then email her at BSB4126@aol.com.
Buffy King: Buffy is another one of my best friends…(what can I say, I surround myself with amazingness). She is by far the world’s greatest nail technician this side of the sun. She has worked so many fashion shows during Fashion Week that I stopped Continue reading
A 16-year-old boy named Brandon is dying of brain cancer. He has a Christmas wish to have thousands of “likes” on his Facebook page, “Brandon’s Recovery,” by Christmas day. “Like” it for the kid and make him smile!
https://www.facebook.com/
What’s more thrilling than reading Jen And Men or playing on your iPhone? Combining the two! I now have an App in the App Store that you can download.
You can also follow me on Twitter and see my post updates on my Facebook page. Comment on any and all blog posts, and I will reply to every single one with your name at the beginning of the response. Feel free to message me any dating stories you’d like featured on the blog using the contact form on the right side of the page or by emailing me at JenAndMen@hotmail.com. Also, please retweet anything you like! And, most of all, enjoy my site!
Thanks for the support, everyone! 
My goal was to write this in my post, It Must Suck To Love Reading The Blog Of The Girl You Hate, but there were so many mean comments that it got way too wordy. Anyway, I’m addressing a theme that seems to keep coming up: My apparent bitchy attitude and hatred for all men.
At the risk of sounding like one of those cheesy people, I’m going to go ahead and type my sentence anyway because it sounds pretty good in my head. I tell it how it is. Now, many people don’t like that. But I don’t see them writing a blog called AnonymousAndMen — half because they probably don’t date and half because it doesn’t sound nearly as rhyming and fun (if I had another half left I’d say that they can’t write but this is not to stir the pot, this is to clarify).
I’m sure you’re well-aware of the crazed epidemic going around lately — network games. Words with Friends, Scramble with Friends, Draw Something. I swear, at one point, a quarter of my damn day was being stolen by these games. I’d even catch myself playing in a bar or while I waited for my date to get out of the restroom.
I recently deleted Draw Something, because everyone was cheating by writing words and it was taking up too much of my time, anyway. Also, I was feeling bad about myself that I couldn’t get past stick figures.
This note must be read: IF YOU ARE RELATED TO ME OR OVER THE AGE OF 40 DO NOT READ IT! SERIOUSLY…MOVE ON TO THE NEXT POST FOR YOUR OWN SANITY!
So I had possibly the craziest experience of my life last Thursday. Two of my girlfriends and I went to The Piazza Brothers winery to make lemoncello (yes, we do things like that, haha). While we were peeling lemons, a little old man sat down next to us. He introduced himself (I’ll call him Sal) and told us that he worked in the sex store next door.
At first, I thought he was joking. Then, as Sal started off the conversation with some of the dirtiest (and funniest) jokes I’ve ever heard, I realized he was serious. After drinking wine and eating cheese, he informed me that he was going to give me a tour of the store.
Throughout my dating career, I have been accused over “overreacting” about 792,000 times. And each time a guy tells me that I’m overreacting I simply respond with, “I’m not overreacting…I’m reacting – ASSHOLE! (I find it to be way less effective when I don’t throw in the “asshole” at the end.
I don’t know what guy in the stone ages pissed off his cave-wife enough to make her grunt even more than usual and then accused her over overreacting, but the damn ___ has been passed on through the ages. Actually it was probably that guy’s son that carried on the legacy, the original caveman that said it was definitely beaten to death by his “overreacting” wife via boulder.
People read my blog for all kinds of reasons. Some like to check out my insanity as they drink their coffee on their way into the office, some like to pop in to see what’s going on before they get begin their actual boring daily assignments, some are family members and friends that I threaten with newsletters. Many people heard my site mentioned on the radio a few times or follow me on Twitter or see my posts shamelessly advertised on Facebook. I get very excited when I meet a friend of a friend for the first time and they say, “I read your blog every day.”
I have recently found out something that’s a bit disturbing. Apparently I have a small following of guys reading my site for the pure purpose of stalking out their ex-girlfriends. I’ll often write posts that say “A friend of mine once…” You’ve probably always thought to yourself, Sure, Jen, you’re “friend.” But I don’t really embarrass easily and I’m pretty much open to talking about any dating or relationship topic that isn’t XXX-rated, so when I say “my friend “ – I mean my friend.
We’ve all been there. You meet someone you like and suddenly you’re entire day revolves around checking your phone to see if they texted you. Usually you flirt for hours using my signature colon capital P sign (:P) and get irrationally excited when you hear your text tone go off (and irrationally angry when it goes off and isn’t them).
Last night, two of my girlfriends and I hung out at my friend Christina’s apartment, gossiping about a new guy she’s into. At 9:15PM, she sadly told us that she hadn’t heard from him since 5PM. We all came up with different reasons for this strange lapse in texting: Family dinner, flat tire, sudden death?
I have two close guy friends who talk about girls like they’d talk about cattle. No attachment, no concern, no caring whatsoever. If they sleep with a girl they use words like “bang” (or worse). I finally had to remind one of them that I am, in fact, a girl and he had to at least say “slept with” when he was telling me a story about his latest prospects.
Anyway, I saw each of them change their tune when meeting two girls that they really liked. All of a sudden they would tell me about all the sweet things they did for them (sending lunch to one girl’s office – which I found to be a tad bit creepy), picking up the other girl from work, etc.) and the sweet things they had planned for the future.
This is a great story and I cannot believe I didn’t blog about this earlier. When I was 16 years old, I dated a guy who I’ve called Joey in past posts. One night, he came over to my house to watch my favorite movie, My Cousin Vinny. There’s one part of the movie when Marissa Tomei stomps on the deck and tells Joe Pesci how her “biological clock” is ticking.
“Hey Ma!” I yelled out. “Come in here, you’re favorite part is on!”
My mom walked in, sat down, and laughed at the scene. I sat there waiting for her to get up again and walk inside, but she just sat and continued watching the movie. About ten minutes went by of me trying to figure out why she wasn’t leaving, when she got up and walked into the kitchen. Continue reading
I’ve been seeing someone new (Marcus) for about two weeks now. A week ago, he came over to watch a movie at my house. The night had so many misunderstandings that it had to be blogged about.
The moment he walked in, my dog (a stunning golden retriever, springer spaniel mix, who’s 5’2 when he stands on his hind legs) jumped up and hugged him. When their moment of lust was over, I told him to follow me into the kitchen so that I could grab us drinks for the Blockbuster popcorn he brought over (what whattt).
Along the way, he met my mom and my brother. While we were standing in the kitchen, my mom walked in and said, “I hope you didn’t mind the hug.”
A look of panic flashed across Marcus’ face. For a split second, all he said was “Uhh” and then followed it up with “…Yeah, yeah, I have a dog so I’m fine with it.” Continue reading
This past weekend I went to SIX bars with my girlfriends. One may have been considered a lounge/club, actually. But my point is…I was tortured all weekend long. If you know me, then you know I despise going to these places to meet guys (hence why I’m always raving about online dating). They’re dark, loud, and filled with drunken idiots (one of whom grabbed my wrist so tightly while telling me a story that I physically had to remove his hand from me).
Our second stop — a club called Teak in Hoboken — was brutal. Everyone was hideously ugly. Then I saw him. Adam Levine’s twin — a security guard dressed in all black that was standing guard near the VIP section of the second level.
The second I laid eyes on him I knew we had to meet, marry, and reproduce.
I am constantly shocked by the horrid photos I come across while fishing through my messages on online dating sites. And I’m not just talking about the standard kissy-faced, idiotic shots of ugly people. I’m talking about over-the-top, jaw-dropping photos that make you say, “Are you kidding?!” aloud and immediate email the photo to your friends.
1. Flexing Shirtless-In-The-Bathroom-Mirror
Dude, you don’t look good. The sooner you accept this, the sooner we can all move on to your normal photos. First of all, I don’t know who told you that putting up a picture with a TOILET in the background was sexy… Continue reading
I am so SICK of guys bringing their effing baggage into MY life. Everyone always says girls are the culprits of this — and maybe they are sometimes — but the last 1,000 guys I’ve dated have brought their past into my present…which means there’s no way in Hell they’re making it into my future.
The last guy I dated was nice to me for an entire week — long enough to lure me in and let my guard down. Then he started making jerky comments here and there: “Oh, maybe you should dye your hair brown” (What’s UP with these guys & the red?!), “I’m a boob guy, not an ass man” (I have no boobs), “It’s not that your forehead is big, it’s that it looks big because your hair and eyebrows are so red” BLAH BLAH BLAH.
This weekend my girlfriends and I went out for St. Paddy’s day. Though we had a blast with each other, there was slim pickins’ when it came to meeting new guys. Everyone was either young enough to be my child, or hideously ugly. I physically could not beleive just how many ugly people were out. My friend Lorraine (who is exactly like me) finally turned to me and said, “Can we get out of here? It’s ugly people settling for ugly people. Is there a bar for good looking people?”
It got me to thinking. Imagine if there really was such a place? A bar that only let in good looking people? It would be freaking Heaven! You’d never have to sift through the hideousness. You’d never have to wonder if paying the cover was a waste. It would be awesome.
There’s nothing I hate more than going out for a fun holiday…only to see others having way more drunken fun than I’m currently having. As you know, this past Saturday was St. Paddy’s Day. Being the fake Irish that I am, I wore my green “Irish for the Day” shirt and pranced around Manhattan sporting a green feather boa, shamrock necklace and ring (with a matching sparkly shamrock painted on my face by my best friend, Kerry), green bow, and green leg warmers. I also bought a green lollipop and cupcake just for the hell of it.
Anywho, after my girlfriends and I left the parade, we started following the huge crowds of green-wearing Irish and fake-Irish rowdy bunches to local bars. Continue reading
This past weekend one of my girlfriends liked a firemen in one of the bars we went to. Because I’m awesome, I went up to him and said, “I think you should go talk to the brunette behind me.” They ended up hitting it off and dancing the whole night. My other girlfriends and I ended up making friends with his two friends.
Now, I was under the impression that they were firemen. They had their uniform suits on (which I always think is kind of cheesy because it just shows me that they don’t think they can get girls without it, but whatever, I dig it, anyway). Somewhere in the evening I found out that they were EMTs.
While on my bar crawl, I spotted a gorgeous guy smoking a cigarette with his two friends on the sidewalk.
I walked up to him, pointed behind me, and said, “Were you in this bar? Is it any good?”
He told me that he was and it was.
“Hmmm, if it’s so good, then why are you out here?” I asked with a smirk.
“I’m out here ’cause I’m smoking a cigarette,” he said back with a smile.
I waved my finger at him, said “Cigarettes are bad for your health,” and walked away to tell my friends that it was a good spot.
“Redheads are bad for my health,” he yelled, as I walked away.
A minute later I went back over to him and said, “What do you have against redheads?”
He looked at me like he wanted to say something, but caved and said, “Nothing. Your hair is gorgeous, I can’t even lie to you.” Continue reading
I’m not the type of person to be mean to guys I’ve broken up with. If I’ve met someone new and I’m happy, why should I waste my energy hating on you? I do, however, use energy hating on exes who write obscenely unnecessary and pompous comments on my funny little Facebook statuses.
The other day I wrote a status about how I’m fat and disgusting because I ate a day-old spinach roll for breakfast, and washed it down with a Diet Coke.
Status: “Okay so I just ate a diet coke & spinach roll for breakfast. Think that’s bad? It was leftover from lunch yesterday & I found it in my car! Head down in shame.”
My friends made their little funny jokes about it and made me smile. Then a guy I dated for a second commented “How do you eat a Diet Pepsi?”
A few nights ago, I got together with my friend Beth. She told me the depressing story about her latest sort-of-boyfriend. This guy is a real piece of work. After sleeping with her, he decided it would be acceptable to not contact her for an entire month (ignoring two texts she sent to him).
She finally sent one final text message to him: “I’m choosing to believe that you’re dead in a ditch somewhere, because the alternative is that you’re the world’s biggest asshole.”
I will put up with a lot when it comes to what people wear. Will I mock you in my head..and possibly with my friends? Yes. But I’m not going to dry heave because you have last season’s anything on. I am repulsed, however, by the three things in the title of this post: ass cracks, boobs bottoms, and back fat.
So if you’re an avid JenAndMen reader, and have seen I’m Not Interested In You, I’m Interested In Fixing Your Online Dating Profile, then you’ll know what a huge hypocrit I am by the time you finish reading this post.
The other day, I was HORRIFIED by a Plenty of Fish message. Unlike my usual array of complimentary gushes, this one was a guy who clearly never gets laid.
The message was from an incredibly mediocre-looking guy, with an even less exciting profile. I opened up the message, skimmed it like I always do, and immediately felt my jaw drop.
I’ve been getting some confused emails and comments, so I know many of you are wondering what happened to the 21-year-old. He’s gone. We stopped seeing each other the weekend after Valentine’s Day, because he has to deal with something very big in his life that I don’t really feel comfortable blogging about. No sad faces, though, because it wasn’t going to work out on my end, anyway.
Things were left on a very amicable level — which has now gone so far in the opposite direction that I had to write his grandmother a message on Facebook, asking her to yell at him for me.
Okay, so clearly the title of this post is self-explanatory. Last week, I was taken out by a guy with a very questionable sexual preference.
I saw 3 main signs that he was gay:
(1) He spoke like he was flaming when he told stories (One of which included him turning down a girl’s propositions for sex)
(2) He made WAY too much effort to tell me about all the “hot model-types” he gets with
(3) He works in the Fashion Industry
Many guys I meet online are very concerned about my reason for having an online dating profile. Anxious about whether or not I’m actually on there for a sincere reason, they ask me if I’m on Plenty Of Fish with the sole purpose of getting material for JenAndMen — to which I answer: NO! Okay, do I get a little antsy from lack of material when I’m dating one person for awhile? Yes. But I just start writing stories about my friends’ love lives, or talk about popular relationship topics that are a bit more obscure than writing about specific dates in my own life. My blog doesn’t revolve around me going on random dates with crazy people (although it just so happens to occur enough that you see a lot of posts relating to that topic).
Many people I know delete their ex boyfriend or girlfriend off of Facebook the second the two break up. I, personally, find this to be silly. Why would you delete them when, in actuality, you’re only deleting all chance of them seeing how much better off you are without them?
They’re obviously going to stalk your picture and status updates, so why not keep them on? I love when my exes (the ones I hate, obviously) get to see me on vacations, posing on a beach with my friends, having dinner out with my girlfriends, or with a new guy I’m seeing. They’d eat their hearts out, if the assholes had one.
About a month ago, I went on a date with someone who said they disliked PDA (Public Displays of Affection).
“Hang on,” I said. “Now, by ‘PDA,’ do you mean ‘hand-holding, a quick kiss, or making out hard-core in public?”
“No, no, hand-holding and some kissing is fine. I just don’t want it to look like I just came back from Afganistan, you know what I’m saying?”
A few weeks ago, my girlfriends and I went out to a bar. After waiting on line for twenty freaking minutes, the admission was $20 (absurd), but they were giving away a free t-shirt with the bar’s name on it.
I looked at the hot guy handing out the shirts, batted my eyelashes, and said it my cutesy voice, “Can I have a Large so I can wear it to bed?”
In a million years, I could never have foreseen what was about to happen next.
A few weeks ago, my alcohol consumption, combined with a need to have a good night, severely hindered my judgement. No, I didn’t hook up with an ex. Worse, I asked one for a favor.
My friend Christine and I were out at McFadden’s feeling especially old and grumpy among the I’m-18-and-used-my-older-sibling’s-ID crowd. I, against my better judgement, text messaged, Pete, the asshole who dissed my hair color and ruined my Christmas.
I asked him where he took me on our date, because I wanted to go to that area. He told me that he was actually heading over there, and that “it’d be nice to see [me]” if I wasn’t with a guy and decided to stop by. An hour later, Christine and I were across town away from the children, but now freezing our asses off on the longest line Continue reading
The other night, my girlfriends and I went out for dinner and dessert in Park Slope. We obviously spent the hours together dishing about our latest guys and our boyfriends (two of us are dating, two have long-term boyfriends). Tiffany, a new edition to our group, shared a story about how she almost had to get a restraining order against her ex.
“He was crazy,” she said, shaking her head. “He just kept getting in this guy’s face because he thought he was staring at me. He was screaming and going nuts. I finally left the VIP section and he followed me to the coat check and grabbed my wrists and I got away from him, told him off and left him there. Then he called and texted me so many times my phone actually rebooted itself and I lost all my messages from other Continue reading
This weekend Brad took me to The Melting Pot for dinner. Naturally, I was beside myself with excitement. While we were there, I asked him if it’d be okay if I substituted the beer (yuck) they pour into the cheese fondue (::ahhh::) for a vegetable broth, because that’s what I had done last time I ate there.
He said that was cool with him, just as the waiter came over and said, “So, I see you’ve been here before. Well, one of you,” and smled at me. Continue reading
Things have been a little crazy lately. I recently received some confused mail from JenAndMen readers so I thought I’d take a moment to get everyone up to date.
1. The 21-year-old and Marcus are out of the picture, and my new guy is the one I call “Brad.” He’s a 25 (Hallelujah), is very sweet (but not too sweet, because you know my MO), and appears to be normal thus far (it’s been two weeks).
My new guy (Brad) took me out for dinner on Saturday night (which is a blog post in itself). Afterwards, we went back to my house to snuggle and watch a movie (Toy Story 1 & 2, haha). We had a great night, which ended around 1:30AM. The next morning, my dad stared me down.
“What’s on your face?” he asked me, disgusted.
“What’s on my face?” I asked, confused.
My mom looked over at me. “It’s her eye makeup from last night,” she said nonchalantly, and looked back down at her laptop.
I shrugged and didn’t give a second thought. Later on in the afternoon, my mom gave me that same look my dad had earlier.
I’m going to Vegas in June for my cousin’s bachelorette party. Brad, the guy I’m dating, knows this. For April Fool’s, I decided to have a little fun with him. He knows that I’ve been dying to find out what hotel we’re staying at, and that my cousins and I have been trying to figure out the best flights to take (time and money-wise).
Early Sunday afternoon, I texted him: Continue reading
Even though I’ve always believed that I will one day be famous, there’s one shameful thing that I can’t help — being starstruck. A couple weeks ago, my friend Laura and I were VIP at the Gotye concert. In case you don’t know them, they’re the band that sings “Somebody That I Used To Know”. Anywho, because Laura works for Fodera basses, she was able to score VIP passes from the bass player himself.
We stood there, rubbing elbows with music execs, radio show lackies, and other lucky people who were able to get their hands on the shiny blue stickers that allowed us seats in the balcony instead of downstairs with the masses (there had to be a thousand people dancing mosh-pit-style in the Standing-Room-Only section). Continue reading
The following is a Guest Post from a girl I’ll call Anne:
I’ve once dated two guys at the same time. I was really attracted to Jim. We were somehow really connected, even though we were from completely different backgrounds. We had a great time hanging out and flirting. At the same time I met another guy, Ted, who was super attractive, and funny and fun to be around.
One night, I made plans to meet up with Ted at an outdoor concert. We were flirty, standing really close, whisper/yelling, etc, etc, when, out of nowhere, Jim comes up from behind and warmly greets me!
I turn around, happy to see him, wondering what he thought about the situation, and awkwardly began to introduce the two of them. But they interrupted me.
“HEY! You play on the intermural ____ team at McGill University, right?”
Fuck. Continue reading
Yesterday I had plans with Brad to hang out at my house. I texted him around 2PM, asking him if 8:30PM was a good time for him to come. His response caught me completely off-guard.
He wanted to know if we could reschedule to Monday because the Ranger game was on. I re-read the text 17 times just to make sure I was seeing it right. He’d rather watch a game on TV in his room than hang out with me…where we could watch the game together on a TV that I do, in fact, own myself. Wow.
My friend Anna has been dating a new guy. I was thrilled when she told me she had the hots for (do people use that expression anymore?) Alex because that meant that she was finally — finally — moving on from her stupid ass ex who I despise.
After her friend hooked them up, Anna text messaged him and scheduled their first date. It went
really well, and she expected him to call. But he didn’t. So she texted him and asked if he wanted to go out again. He said “Yes” and they went for dinner and pool. She paid for the pool and his drinks. I rolled my eyes.
He told her that he doesn’t usually take the initiative (his way of copping out of ever making plans with her). She felt better now that she knew it wasn’t her, that it was just his personality. This time they went back to his place and things got physical. Again they had a great time and she waited for him to call. Again, he didn’t.
The other night I went on a double date with Brad and two of his engaged friends, Hal and Jenny. They told me a story about a recent vacation they went on. While they were eating in the hotel restaurant, their waitress kept touching Hal.
“What can I get for you?” she asked, as she touched his arm.
He told her, and thought it was a little strange but didn’t really think it was too offensive of a crime…Until she brought him the drink he ordered and rubbed his arm as she put it down on the table.
A big group of us recently went to a club in the city. The guys had to pay to get in, and the girls got in for free.
“That’s not fair,” my friend Mike said. “Why do we always have to pay when you get in for free?”
I gave him a dirty look and said, “WE BEAR THE CHILDREN!”
I recently heard about a guy who kept an Excel spreadsheet of his dating conquests from Match.com. Many people find this to be weird or crazy. Me? I think it’s damn efficient.
If you think about it, he does a sort of short-hand version of what I do. What was the girl like? Pretty? Nice? Funny? What was the date like? Fun? Forced? Terrible?
I don’t think people understand just how many people are on these dating sites. You can literally be messaging 10 people back and forth at once. And if you start meeting up with them, well, it can get nuts. (By the meeting up stage, I’ve usually widdled it down to a few, but I guess he did not.)
The guy just wants to stay organized. His only real stupidly was emailing the freaking thing to a girl he liked. Idiot. He lost a whole mess of points with me with that dumbass move. Continue reading
I already posted about how Brad, the new guy I’m seeing, abandoned me last weekend to watch the Ranger game alone. Many people came to his defense, including one of my best friends, Christine, explaining that it’s the playoffs and I shouldn’t be insulted. But I was. And still am.
This reminded me of another guy I dated that used to do this to me. And it wasn’t even for a Ranger game.
In college, I dated a guy who I’ll call Sal for about a month. After canceling plans on me one night, I thought the fight we had would ensure that it wouldn’t happen again. I was wrong. Continue reading
I don’t know if it’s some super-human sixth sense that brings in the snakes — I mean, the exes — back.
My ex knows exactly when I’m feeling great. Get interviewed on Elvis Duran & the Morning Show? I get a text. Loving my new job? I get a text. Have a new boyfriend? I get a text. The guy just knows when I’m happy and wants nothing but to suck the happiness out of me like the venomous snake that he is.
Last week, as I happily planned my date with Brad, I got a text message. I looked down at my lit-up screen excitedly, expecting it to be him. Except it wasn’t.
“Still hate me?” Continue reading
If you’re a romantic, then you’ve played Boyz II Men on repeat at least a handful of times in your dating life. Guys, if you haven’t done this, you’re dumb. It is the ultimate make out music. There’s something about their voices that combines the power of Barry White with more of a soft, modern twist. The only sad part is that they haven’t come out with an album in a while — until now.
I’ve always wondered why women lie about their age. Young girls say they’re older, older women pretend their younger. I find the entire thing to be confusing and strange. However, I find myself accidentally giving the wrong age all the time.
Two of my best friends and I sat and commiserated over the fact that we are turning 25 this year. Yes, you read it, TWENTY-FIVE. That’s one third of the way through my life (I only want to live to 75)…a quarter of a century old. How appalling.
“My mom tried cheering me up about my bad day today by telling me that my birthday is coming up in a few weeks. I started crying because I don’t want to turn 25,” Kaitlin said.
After we said “twenty-five” over and over again in disgust like the words themselves left some sort of foul taste in our mouths, Megan looked at me and Kaitlin and said, “Here’s another number for you. NINE. That’s how many years ago TODAY my Sweet 16 was.”
I have always wondered why I see all these hot lesbians hand-in-hand with the manliest gay women on earth. If they’re going to date someone who looks like a dude, why not just date a dude? This question has plagued me for years. Well, after much inquiring, I finally got an answer.
One of my best friends, Megan, works with many lesbians. She became friends with her co-workers and, one day, asked them this exact question. And they answered it!
According to Megan’s hot lesbians friends, they go for manly lesbian lovers because Continue reading
I’ve never heard of E.L. James, the author of 50 Shades of Grey, before, but she’s now on my list of people I have to send Christmas presents to. The list already consists of the guy from the pet store that introduced my family to a bone with holes in it that you fill with peanut butter – something that apparently quiets down the world’s most loved and loudest barking dog, TJ from Elvis Duran and the Morning Show who put me on the radio, and the parking attendant in the lot I leave my car in each morning, because he gives me a daily compliment and starts my day off cheerily.
After listening to my ten-year-old cousin (who I’ll call Gabby) complain about a little boy and little girl in her fifth grade class, I started to get increasingly depressed.
Holy shit, I thought, I have the exact same problem.
It got me thinking: Guys (and bitchy girls) are exactly the same from third grade on.
Her story involved a boy in her class, who I’ll call Mikey (one who she claims she doesn’t like but I know her well enough to know that she does), and this bitchy little girl, who I’ll call Erica, who steals all of Mikey’s attention by flirting with him constantly.
Last week there was an article in the newspaper that I loved. A woman was dumped by her cheating boyfriend, who left her for the woman he was secretly having an affair with. About a week after he dumped her without remorse, he had a toothache.
Because his now-ex is a dentist, he begged her to work on him…and work on him she did. She put him under anesthesia and, without being able to help herself, removed all his teeth.
As you know, I’ve been dating Brad for about a month now. We’ve had our ups and downs, but we’ve had some discussions and I felt that things were going to be okay. This weekend, as I was cheerily balling socks in my living room, catching up on Grey’s Anatomy, Brad called. He started telling me that he missed his sister and then proceeded to say that he was going to spend a week upstate with her at college.
A week?! was my first thought. He really wants to spend an entire week with his sibling? I was just beginning to deal with the fact that he was going away for a week when his next sentence blew me out of the water.
Yesterday I had dinner with one of my best friends, Daphne. After not seeing each other for two entire months, it was easy to find ourselves leaving the restaurant three and a half hours and a pitcher of sangria later. Because we both had so much to tell the other, we decided our best strategy for catching up would be to take turns telling 10-minute stories. So, roughly 21 stories each. Yup.
My friend Kate recently told me a story about the guy she’s dating, Mike. When he informed her that she was going to Pennsylvania to visit his brother at college, she decided to take her mind off of him by going out to a bar with some friends and friends of friends.
At about midnight on Saturday, she received a text message from Mike: “Meet me at ___ Bar” (which is located in the East Village).
“But you’re in Pennsylvania for the weekend. You’re not supposed to be coming back until tomorrow.” Continue reading
There comes a point in every dying relationship where you have to make a choice: Your girl/boyfriend or you. Just like if you were in the woods or on a mountaintop or in the jungle and only one of you could come out of it alive – it simply becomes a matter of survival. In this case, emotional survival. Hell, in most of my cases, physical survival as well.
I guess you can tell from the title of this post that I broke up with Brad. I knew I had to on Monday, April 23rd. It was the day I was forced to pull the girl card and tell him that I was unhappy with the way things were going.
I took the plunge into the dark abyss that is the land of No Return because, when I said “When am I going to see you?” I received a text that read “Hopefully soon babes.” He didn’t make a date like he used to. He didn’t say he missed me like he used to. He didn’t even seem to want to hang out with me in the near future at all.
