Category Archives: relationships

All of the Dating Advice I Have

89bcd9bb3cb831aaf37a34e29d676dd51.) “Musician” is simply a euphemism for “I will fuck you and then I will copulate with your best friend, cousin, sister and anything else with a pulse and a hole.”

2.) Skateboards are practical methods of transportation for humans under the age of 12. Anybody who uses a skateboard after that age should be avoided, unless they are making big bucks for riding around on a two-by-four attached to four roller-skate wheels.

ie:

Betty, “I have a hot date tonight with Johnny!”

Sally, “That’s wonderful! Where are you two going?”

Betty, “Down the block. We can’t go very far away because he’s picking me up on his skateboard. Isn’t that romantic?”

Sally, “…….”

3. “I’m not ready for a relationship” means I am not ready for a relationship. It does not mean the following:

– I want to take things slow because I respect you and I am a gentleman.

– I am emotionally hurt by your predecessor and fear that you’ll hurt me too. My heart is a big gaping wound and I need to be treated as fragile goods and be nursed back to heath by a caring and devout woman such as yourself.

– If you hang around for like five months and bake me cupcakes and have naked sleepover parties with me, I will suddenly realize how amazing you are and put a ring on it.

4. Stop talking about your dating life in hyperbole. Every dude out there isn’t an asshole set out to break your heart and you’re not going to be alone forever. Shit happens to everyone. This is why dating is as exciting as it is sucky. Chin up, slugger.

5. Having sex does not mean he is your boyfriend. Three weeks of dating doesn’t mean he’s your bf either.

6. Do not, under any circumstances, get drunk and text him, “Do you like me?” Also, do not show up to his place of employment in nothing but a trench coat and garters.

7. Relax. Relax. Relax.

8. Do not rely heavily on dating advice from your female friends or gay male friends or your mother.

9. It is not cute or becoming to get drunk in front of him and then shrilly sing Miley Cyrus and/or throw up in your purse and/or get into a brawl with the grouchy broad wearing leggings with a Lisa Frank-esque pattern of cats and space ships who gave you the stink-eye.

10. Do not listen to Jawbreaker while sitting by yourself on the couch in the dark waiting for him to call you back.

 

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Welcome to the Winter of Our Discontent

winter

I think I went a little crazy when I turned 30. I did the typical “Woooo, let’s get drunk and try to take home anything with a pulse and a penis (even that fugly bartender with a nose like a dorsal fin) because I’m sad and lonely and single and things are going to start sagging in the next two years and I still don’t have kids (but do I even want them?) and I’m 30 – did you hear, y’all? I’m 30?!?! LOOK AT MEEE WHILE I TWERK ON THIS TABLE!!! WOOOO YAHHH…Fuck, I think I threw my hip out. Where’s ma drink??”

But other than getting white girl wasted, I really think I lost my mind. I lost my mind in the same way people fall asleep or in love; slowly at first, and then all at once.

This winter has been a hard one. Not because I suddenly realized I’m old, but because things are changing and staying the same simultaneously. People are getting married and having kids and moving to the ‘burbs. Some are making drastic life decisions regarding love and education and career. Still others are in the same exact spot they were at when they were 23, 24, 25. They’re combing the bar for chicks, shopping alone in the frozen food aisle at 3am because they’re stoned and too lazy to cook. And their refrain has become, “I’ll change. I’ll change. I’ll change.” even though I know they won’t.

Do you understand what I’m saying?

My dog died so I bought a puppy. It thinks “No” means “Yes, good boy! Continue eating my Jeffrey Campbells! Atta dog! Shit on the floor! Good dog!”

I’ve been vigilantly stalking a girl who is an uglier version of Courtney Love circa the heroin years. A guy I like who used to like me now likes her and it drives me nuts. I’ll sit for hours browsing through her pictures and each bug eyed, bleach blonde, pouty lipped, baby doll dress, ripped stockings, the 90’s are screaming at you to wake the eff up and realize grunge is dead photo makes me hate myself even more.

I can’t stop buying shit from Free People. Every girl needs a $600 crocheted rose print ruffle frock in her closet!

I got a second gym membership because I hated my first gym. I found a fourth shrink because the first one didn’t “get” me, the second one was too handsome and the third one was too paternal.

I apply for five copywriting jobs in different states every day.

Do you fucking get what I’m talking about?

I am 30 and my refrain is “I’ll change. I’ll change. I’ll change.” But I don’t. You can dress it up any way you want, play semantics and call it “stuck” or “lost.”  But the fact of the matter is I’m 30 and nothing has changed.