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 →
A few years ago, after I broke up with my boyfriend, Austin, I met a guy who was, in all respects, the perfect rebound. Let’s call him Jack. Jack was older and had a job and spoke to me so eloquently. He complimented me and paid attention to me and wanted to hear about my day. He was sweet and kind and held my hand and kissed me. He made me forget that I was supposed to be sad.
I obsessed over Jack for a solid month, gushing about him to anyone who would listen. I couldn’t believe that he had liked me just as much as I liked him (well maybe not just as much, seeing as how I was planning our wedding and naming our children, haha).
How many times do you hear “Dime Piece,” “She’s a Ten,” “She’s a Dime,” etcetera, in songs these days? Hell, I hear it from my friends all the time. For whatever reason, many people seem to enjoy the word “ten” over the words “perfect” or “beautiful.” I, personally, don’t refer to people as “tens.” I do, however, use all the other numbers quite often.
My friends and I rate people all of the time. Of course, our ratings often differ based upon our own individual tastes. “What do you think of that guy?” my friend Christine will ask me. “Egh, he’s like a 6,” I’ll say, looking him up and down. “No! Really?! I’d give him an 8 for sure!” And the same thing usually happens when the situation is reversed.
My guy friends are no different. My friend Luke will say, “Damn, that girl’s body is a solid 10. Her face? Like a 5…but who cares, man? Look at that body.”
My girls and guys are a little different in that aspect. I think girls take more time examining a guy’s face, teeth, hair, height, and style, before rating him. Most guys (especially those you are just looking at the menu because they’re on a diet…aka have a girlfriend) look at girls’ boobs and asses before their eyes make their way up to the girl’s face. Continue reading →
Usually, it’s girls who have the reputation for getting too attached too soon (hence the original quote from the movie Wedding Crashers). But sometimes it’s not the girls at all.
I can think of five relationships off the top of my head where the girl is clearly in control and the guy is not only more accommodating, but is flat-out too attached to ever let go.
While in Italy, my cousin and I met two very nice English girls named Jamie and Marie. They were staying in the same Bed & Breakfast as us.
One night, the four of us went out to dinner. To our delight, our waiter was stunningly beautiful. During the course of the night, he got more and more flirtatious with Marie. At one point, he said something to her in Italian and they both laughed, along with the girl sitting behind our table.
I’m not sure why, but almost every single European my cousin Victoria and I came across during our Italian vacation appeared, at first glance, to be gay. I’m thinking it had to do with the tightness of their pants, but that wasn’t all. There’s something extremely attractive about a gay man who knows he looks good. Even more than a straight guy, or even straight metrosexual, a hot gay guy walks with a certain swagger that says, “I’m hot to both genders and I know it.”
While on line at customs, Victoria and I played the “Is he European or American?” game. The two nationalities were fairly easy to distinguish between.
The well-dressed, fo-hawked, super skinny hotties were the Europeans, and the baseball hat sporting, t-shirt, baggy shorts, flip-flop-wearing guys were the Americans. Not necessarily less good looking, just way different.
We were stalking everyone out, listening to hear what languages they spoke to see if we were correct, when we found out that we were wrong about one. Nine out of ten correct, and this guy stumped us. We looked at his tight clothes, his pointed leather shoes, his Louis Vuitton luggage. How could he not be European? Continue reading →
Last June, I took a vacation to Italy, during which I was forced to board six (shudder) airplanes. Although I became more at ease with each passing flight, I still had the panic most get while flying. Oh my God, there’s turbulence. This plane is way too small. How many more hours do I have trapped in this thing? Et cetera, et cetera.
I came to find that I was much more relaxed when the flight attendants were good-looking and kind. Those who came over the PA with an attitude or indifference made me extremely anxious. Those who did not smile made me extremely anxious. The fact of the matter is, I was already extremely anxious. And I was in desperate need for some comfort. That’s when I look to flight attendants.
Before I even get to my point, I would just like to point out how cool I think the life of a flight attendant is. Think about it, they get to travel all around the world for free, meet hundreds, maybe he thousands of new people each week, and execute minimal physical labor. I, personally, think it’s a doorway to a million and one amazing experiences, and I envy them all the time.
I would love to do it for a year or so, but I know I’d be way too chicken to fly that often, and be away from my family, friends, and boyfriend for long periods of time. I would look adorable in that little navy dress, though.
There seems to be such a thin line between a guy who is incredibly laid back, and a plain old lazy ass. Laid back guys are the ones who say things like “Duuuude” & “Yeah, man.” I always picture a California-esque “dude” with flip-flops and flippy hair. These are the guys who rolls with the punches. They don’t cause waves, they surf waves.
You’re most likely gonna get zero grief from them, because, hey, they’re laid back. Who wants a fight? Why not just say “Whatever will be, will be” and leave it at that? Laid back guys don’t need a high-power job, because they are anti-stress. They don’t need an expensive, designer wardrobe, because what are clothes in the long-run, besides things that just get in the way of a totally breezy life? They might not even need to live in their own apartment.
Hey, wait a second? I think I just proved the title right. Those last 3 totally sounded more like “lazy hack” than laid back, did they not? Herein lies the problem. Continue reading →
I can’t stand when girls refuse to eat on a date. Look, I’m not saying order like you’re on death row. I’m just not understanding why a salad and some oxygen is considered to be standard for some insecure girls.
There’s a hilarious YouTube skit that shows four guys imitating their girlfriends’ eating habits. One says, “I’m not going to eat because I actually digested a huge gust of wind for breakfast.”
Every guy I’ve ever dated has always loved the fact that I eat ten times a day. It shows that I have enough confidence in myself to show a new boyfriend that I can actually get the nourishment necessary to live.
Constantly telling a guy that you’re “watching [your] weight” or “can’t cheat on [your] diet” isn’t making you seem any better, either — especially if you’re thin, because then you just look like you’re obsessed with your weight in a really unhealthy way. If you were in a pool with the guy, you’d swim, right? So when you’re at a restaurant…eat. Continue reading →
When you write a blog about dating – and date – you tend to get a lot of frightened guys nervously asking what you’re going to write about them…to which I’ve always said, “Don’t worry about it (smirk).” This, if you haven’t guessed, did not ease their minds. In fact, it seemed to scare them even more. Which, if you know me, you know I loved.
There is, of course, the added issue of these guys reading the blog posts I write. My friend Nick told me that I should stop telling guys I’m interested in about JenAndMen. “Either they’re gonna think you’re just dating them for material or they’re gonna be petrified that whatever they say or do is going to end up in writing on the internet. I wouldn’t date you if you if you told me about it.”
I have made it a point to sound breezy when finding myself in new or uncomfortable situations. I’ve come to realize that people who always sound uptight and submissive often don’t get the respect they deserve.
This is why I make a very serious attempt to keep my voice level when speaking to someone I want something from (whether it be a job, a date, etc.).
There’s a great episode of Friends when Monica wants to leave her ex-boyfriend, Richard, (whom she is still very much in love with) an answering machine message. Her friends tell her to be “breezy.”
She begins the message fine, casually speaking about a message that Richard left her. Then, somewhere toward the end, she gets flustered, forgets how to keep up her breezy persona, and actually says that she “is breezy.”
There are certain things that you should not eat on a first date. After all, you want to make a good first impression. You have your whole relationship to eat like a pig, get food stuck in your teeth, and have bad breath. However, if you decide to do one of these things (or God forbid, all 3) on a first date, mark my words: There will not be a second one.
Food-To-Stay-Away-From #1: Any sort of stringy pasta. Spaghetti and linguini is out for Date #1. It doesn’t matter how carefully you twirl it on your spoon, at one point in the night, I am 100% sure that you will slurp that pasta at least once and, in addition to the horrible slurping sound that will emanate from your mouth, the sauce is going to go flying onto either your beautiful first-date-outfit, or worse, your date’s. The results will not be favorable.
Food-To-Stay-Away-From #2: Anything with garlic or onions. There is no need for your breath to stink on your very first time out with someone. Be reasonable, at least wait for the second time. I’ll never forget my second date with my boyfriend of two-and-a-half years. I have meticulously picked out all the garlic from my pasta dish. He then scooped it all up and put it in his mouth like he was helping himself to some potatoes. My jaw dropped. The look of shock on my face was enough to make him say, “What? Were you planning on eating that?” Boys, boys.
A friend of mine went out to dinner with her boyfriend the other night. He took her to Continue reading →
The day of my high school graduation party, my mom came into the living room and laughed.
“You should see the cute delivery boy the catering company sent over,” she said.
I walked out into the back room in my pajamas and messy bun, took one glimpse of him, and took off through the house, up the stairs, and into my bedroom at record speed, ripping my hair tie out as I fled.
I threw on a tank top and shorts, tossed some conditioner and gel in my crazy hair, and applied my makeup as fast as humanly possible.
Simultaneously spraying my neck with Dior perfume and running down the staircase, I finally made it into the back room, looking like a different person in just five minutes. Continue reading →
It is extremely disappointing when you think you’ve found your new gay best friend, only to find out that he is, in fact, straight. This recently happened to me a couple of weeks ago. A few months ago, I started Facebook chatting with a friend of a friend. I noticed we were both into some of the same stuff, and being the social butterfly that I am, I requested him.
In all his pictures, this guy was wearing tight clothes and way more hair products than me. He didn’t check off the sexual orientation tab on his profile, and we never ever spoke about anything but our hobbies and our mutual friends (no relationship talk from him), so I assumed (I know, I know) that he was homosexual. Looking back, I guess I could have just asked someone who knew him, but I find that to be a touchy subject and I didn’t care all that much to actually bother asking. Continue reading →
Most vegetarians feel very strongly about their lifestyle choice. There are so many documentaries, films, and articles written on the subject. Poor, defenseless animals being slaughtered for our own gluttony. Meat going bad for lack of sale, while other countries have people starving. Animals being cloned for mass-production, producing frightening specimens that are simply unnatural. For decades, advocates of vegetarianism have fought to spread the word of their healthy, kill-free lifestyle. I commend these people.
On the other hand, I hate people who claim to be vegetarians because they are against the killing of animals when, in reality, they just don’t like meat. I don’t like the taste of lamb, but you don’t hear me saying it’s because of Mary’s little friend.
I used to be friends with a girl, Hollie, who was grossed out by meat. Yes, grossed out. That just made me grossed out by her. Whereas I begin salivating at the very thought of a juicy, flavorful, medium-rare steak, a big, thick cheeseburger, or a scrumptious roast beef or pot-roast, this girl was nauseated by it all. It didn’t help matters much that she went away to college. College cafeterias are usually known for their mystery meats.
It is so disappointing when you think you’ve spotted a new potential hook-up and come to realize that you could not be more wrong.
The scenario is just about the same every time. You nudge your friend, smile at the hottie, and proceed to do a nonchalant head nod.
For a moment or so you’re in complete anticipation and hope. After all, he/she could be your next hook up, your next boy/girlfriend, your future spouse! Maybe the universe brought both of you beautiful people together on this night simply to ensure that you meet and begin your lifelong adventure together.