Now that I’m married, it’s become clear to me that I have priceless dating tips to offer. All of my single friends ask me what my secret was to landing my perfect man. And this is hilarious to me, because the truth is, had we not had a mutual friend in common and had I not had some liquid courage in me at the time, I probably would have run for the nearest closet to hide in when I met Captain Thoughtful. Because that’s how I rolled. I was not a good dater. I was a flirtation failure. Basically, all the things I’m getting credit for now, I was really really bad at. But, what the hell, you want my dating tips? Sure. I’ll give ‘em to you.
1. Never repeat name date. I think dating someone with the same name of someone else you previously dated is bad luck.
2. Don’t ever let the person you’re dating see you cry when watching Titanic or Armageddon.
3. Only ever order 1 taco at dinner.
4. Don’t use emoticons when texting.
5. Don’t tell them about Grammy on the first date.
Hand to heaven, these were real dating tips I lived by pre-Captain Thoughtful. And I broke most of them while dating him (except rule number 2, that’s a thing I don’t like to subject anyone to). So maybe, takes these and then do the opposite of them and things will work out splendidly! Or, you know, real talk, liquid courage worked out pretty well for us.
So, I’m getting married in like, 5 days. And by “like 5 days” I mean, exactly 5 days. And I thought to myself, “Hey self. You’re getting married to the love of your life. You must be SUPER AWESOME at dating because you totally won the dating game when he put a ring on it.” (Note: that’s the reason engaged women wear rings, because it’s like the trophy for winning at dating. Not because it makes you someone’s property.) Then I continued talking to myself, as I am want to do, “Self, it’s me again, yourself, and I was thinking that since we won the dating game, we should share our rules for dating with the world so everyone can be a winner because we are a really really good person that everyone should love and want to give presents to.” It’s really hard to argue with that logic so here are my rules for dating.
1. Never repeat name date. That means you never date more than one person with the same name. It’s bad luck.
2. Make sure the person you’re dating understands that you know how to Google Bomb them. Just in case things get ugly.
3. If some idiot breaks up with you. Don’t be friends with them after. At least for a little while. You need to grieve the relationship and eat icing straight from a can before you’re ready to be friends.
4. Assess your date very seriously by asking yourself “How would they fare in an apocalyptic situation? Would they be of any use to me?”
5. If you make a Harry Potter reference and he/she doesn’t get it. Run like hell.
I’m just saying, it totally worked for me.
This is my brain on a normal day: Beep bop boop beep. What’s for breakfast? What’s for lunch? What’s for dinner? Music, music, music. Marketing, marketing, marketing. I want a snack. Florence and the Machine. Kings of Leon. I wish my life was a musical comedy. Oh wait, my life is a musical comedy. Daydream, daydream, daydream. Blog, blog, blog. Awkward moment. I wish I had cotton candy. Awkward moment I need to remember to blog about later. Daydream about becoming a well-paid and successful author. Daydream about cotton candy clouds. Imaginary interviews. I want to go to London. I want a snack. Adele. Green tea. Gummy worms. Green tea. Gummi butterflies (yeah it’s a thing). Writing, writing, writing. Awkward moment. Hilarious joke I need to blog about. Jazz hands. Ryan Gosling daydream. Jazz hands.
This is my brain on a date: Sweet mother of Zeus, how did I get on a date? Is this a dream? This is awkward. Why is this so awkward? Am I making this awkward? I’m totally making this awkward. Should I hold his hand? Should he hold my hand? Do I let him pay? Do I offer to pay? I don’t want to pay. Do I have something in my teeth? Oh gross, what if I have something in my teeth? No way is this guy going to like me after this. Why did he ask me out? How did this happen? Ok. OK. Play it cool GotC. Play it cool. Cool boys *snap* *snap* real cool…….stop! This isn’t West Side Story. How great would it be if this was West Side Story?! Wait. Not great because then one of us would die. Oh man. Is he making a move? Nope. No move. Should I make a move? He’s so nice. Why is he so nice? Maybe he doesn’t think this is a date. Oh my heavens! What if he doesn’t think of this as a date? I made up the whole dating scenario in my head didn’t I? I totally did. So humiliated. Wait. He just paid for me. That’s a date, right? Why didn’t reading Goosebumps prepare me for this? C’mon R.L. give a girl some dating advice. Ha. I bet dating advice from R.L. Stine would be brilliant! Did he just compliment me? I don’t know, I was too busy wondering what kind of dating advice R.L. Stine would give. Umm……ok, just smile and nod. I’m an idiot. Smile and nod?! He probably thinks I’m a moron. Tell a joke. Stupid joke. Why did I say that joke? Tell him about your blog so he knows you’re hilarious. No wait! Stop! Don’t tell him about your blog. Abort. Abort. If he reads your blog he’ll know you’re completely mental. Whew. Dodged that bullet. But how to convince him I’m charming and funny? Think of something topical. Nope, too late. Moment has passed. He’s over it. This is a disaster. I’m a disaster. Where is the nearest closet to hide in?
Just say no kids. Just say no.
I’m sure you’ve all heard about the book He’s Just Not That Into You. Or maybe you saw the movie. Or maybe you saw the Sex & The City episode where it all began. If you haven’t heard of the book, seen the movie, or watched the SATC episode, I need to first question your life choices. Next, I need to explain to you what this book is all about. Basically, HJNTIY (abbreviated because it’s annoyingly long and possibly poisonous) is a book written by a man and a woman about how most of the guys you like or are dating or are in a relationship with don’t really like you.
I read this book as soon as it was released. I watched the authors on Oprah. I was a believer. I was liberated by this book. It was like “Hey. It’s good to know up front that you don’t like me so I don’t waste any of my time fretting and shaving my legs. Don’t worry, you don’t have to say you don’t like me. This book already told me you don’t like me.” And believe it or not, that felt kind of good. For quite some time, I wasn’t concerned with whether or not guys were interested in me because HJNTIY told me they weren’t. If a guy wasn’t calling, texting, making plans with, or making out with me then he just wasn’t that into me. If a guy initially called, texted, made plans with, and made out with me and then failed to do one of those things, even missed one day, it meant he may have been into me but was no longer into me anymore. And I believed that because HJNTIY was on Oprah and therefore the gospel truth. Imagine me wasting all those years thinking guys liked me! How foolish. How childish. Finally, I was freed from that silliness and could now move forward knowing that almost every guy I met/liked would not be into me.
Great. So it made me feel good, until it made me feel like crap. This book had me convinced that none of the guys I liked were into me. Even the ones who probably were. If a guy I was dating didn’t call, text, make plans with, or make out with me, even missed one day, I was over it. I bailed out faster that Wall Street (BOOM economic humor). I didn’t give them a chance because I decided that they didn’t like me. Why did I decide that? Because HJNTIY told me to. Also, there may have been an element of self-preservation in there but I’m really more comfortable blaming outside sources.
For years, this book poisoned my mind against guys and against myself. Even though the book tells you time and time again that you’re beautiful, desirable, and utterly fantabulous it follows up all of those comments by telling you the guy you like doesn’t like you back so…..kind of a mixed message there. Don’t get me wrong, I really do think the heart of this book is in the right place, I just think it would have been much better to say “Hey. Don’t date assholes.” although, that would have been a much shorter book and Oprah probably wouldn’t approve. And sure, yes, if a guy never calls and always bails on you, he is probably not that into you, but if he misses one day then maybe don’t pull out the fried chicken and ice cream just yet, he’s probably still into you. Maybe don’t freak out and preemptively dump him.
And believe me, I totally sympathize with the get out before you get hurt instinct, hell, I would say that’s been the overall theme of my dating history, but some guys are totally worth ignoring that instinct for and conversely some aren’t. I don’t know, use your best judgement not some over-generalized and slightly insulting books. And hey, don’t date assholes.
Why do they have to be in high-heels?
Check-check-check-check it out. I flirted y’all. And not only did I flirt, I flirted successfully. My sudden onset of flirtation domination can only be a result of one of the following…
1. I got stuck in a wormhole.
2. I was possessed by a very sassy ghost.
3. I was possessed by a very sassy ghost while stuck in a wormhole.
4. I was drunk. (P.S. I wasn’t drunk)
5. Cupid punched me in the face and gave me a concussion.
So, what do you think? Where did my sudden skills at flirting come from? I’m open to other suggestions, but for my money, it was probably because of number 3. And I bet you all want me to give you the play-by-play of what happened but I’m keeping mum for now because I’m a lady and prefer not to publicize my romantic conquests on a blog.
Just kidding. I’m totally going to tell you guys what happened. Maybe. Not today but another day that has a “y” in it like “New Year’s Day” (now with a lot more “y”!)
Hi y’all! We (Cappy of Writer’s Block fame and ) have decided to collaborate on a blog. We know, we know. The world’s been waiting for this one for a looooong time. We’ve known each other (through the interwebs) for over a year now, and we thought it would be only appropriate to celebrate our anniversary by posting together. So here goes.
Cappy: The first kiss: it happens to the best of us. And they happen over and over (if you’re lucky…or unlucky, if you’re looking simply for “the one”). Of course, and I were about 97 when we had ours (not together…) since we’re slight flirtation failures, but nevertheless, it happens.
We’re romantics. You can tell by the fact that we wear corsets and walk around knighting people all the time. So we figured we’d talk about what we deem acceptable and unacceptable vis-a-vis first kisses.
: Cappy is being too modest. She was actually 95 when she had her first kiss, she just didn’t want to tell you that for fear you would think she was a “hoochie-mama” (those were her words, not mine, I would never say “hoochie-mama”, I prefer the term amorously gifted. It hasn’t caught on yet.) She was right about one thing, however, I do like to knight people, but only those who have shown themselves to be valorous in some way- like letting me cut in front of them in the grocery store check-out. I’m not really romantic, I just like romance. Anyway, I definintely like kissing so it’s worth discussing, and by worth it, I mean Cappy and I plan to make a lot of money writing about kissing. So, like, really worth it.
Cappy: On a balcony. So Rom & Jul. In a wheat field during a sunset…but hey, don’t wear shorts, or severe chafing will ensue and your kiss scenario will be demoted to the bad section of this list. On a sailboat…during a sunset? Don’t lean against a sail or anything though. Don’t want to lose your balance and get eaten by a shark! That’s not romantic. On an albatross. Because, really, it’s bloody well magestic.
In a hot air balloon. Just don’t hit a plane or something. We’re not sure it’s possible, but it would be just our luck.
GotC: In a closet. As I understand it, when two people go into a closet together, it turns into Heaven for like 7 minutes. Also, beaches. Also, also, my living room couch. It’s so simple yet so perfect.
Cappy: A field just as a crop duster passes overhead. An albatross that really needs to potty.
A balcony…because, really…do we WANT to compare ourselves to Rom and Jul? They. Died. And it wasn’t just like a little, painless death. Their deaths were filled with poison, heartbreak, and stab wounds. I blame the friar.
GotC: I agree, it was totally the friar’s fault. Also, cars. It’s super awkward and there are arm rests and seat belts to deal with. Also, also, under bleachers at any sporting events. Steer clear of under the bleachers because before you know it, other kids will be calling you “amorously gifted.”
Cappy: Dark-ish. Because he might not be that cute. And you don’t necessarily want to see his fish face looming in on you and then you all of a sudden think, “WHAT AM I GETTING MYSELF INTO?!” But then maybe that’s what you SHOULD think, and you’d better think it fast before he starts ripping your clothes off.
GotC: If Clueless taught me anything, it taught me that lighting it crucial. Florescent lighting is not flattering on anyone so avoid places with florescent lighting. Dusk is nice. So is twilight. I’m pretty sure those two are the same thing.
Cappy: Totally dark. You don’t want any wandering hand action to be happening…unless, you know, you DO want wandering hand action. But at this point we’re only talking about the first kiss, not the first grope.
GOTC: Too bright. You don’t want to see too much, trust me on that.
Cappy: If he grabs your head and locks it in, we have a problem. But if he touches your face, whispers something nice, says you’re pretty when your eyes are closed, etc…well, actually, he’s probably just Edward Cullen and you should get your holy water out. The caressing should be nice, but really, no matter what he does, it’ll seem kinda dumb when you say it out loud.
GotC: Ah, the caress. Super sappy, super romantic, super necessary. A touch of the face, a holding of the hand, when he pushes your hair behind your ear……..I’m going to stop now because I think you get it and if you don’t, you need to watch some movie adaptations of Jane Austen novels, they usually get it right in the sweet caresses department.
The Whole Package
Cappy: You should feel nice afterward, and your tonsils should remain intact, thank you very much.
And that, my friends, is kissing advice from two foxy ladies who just like to keep it real. You like us. Admit it. Actually, don’t admit it, just show your love with a little smoochin’.
GotC: You should be smiling, and every time you think about it afterward, you should smile. And if you’re not smiling or don’t ever think of it again, it wasn’t done properly. Also, according to conventional wisdom, unlike us, you’re not supposed to talk about it.
So there you have it. We’ve tested all these scenarios out, so they’re like, totally scientific and everything. Just listen to us and we promise, you’ll have a lotta luck in love. Meow.
People-We need to talk about Cappy. I love her. I love her the way an anonymous humor blogger loves another anonymous humor blogger. Part of my love is fueled by the fact that she was one of the first to read this blog, and another part is fueled by the fact that she says really nice and flattering things about me, and still another part is fueled by the fact that I’m really jealous that her name is Cappy. But mostly, I just love her because she is funny as hell and has a great voice. You should be reading her blog. For real y’all. Cappy is the bees knees and you need to get hip to her jive.
What say you? Any kissing tips we missed (and that won’t get my blog flagged as inappropriate…..)
I heard that confession is good for the soul and I also heard that liar’s pants catch on fire, so, in the interest of my soul and my pants, I have some confessing to do. I wasn’t always completely honest in some of my past relationships- to spell it out for you I L-I-E-D. And I need to clear my conscious and admit those lies and I figure the best place to do that is the interweb because it reaches most people and robots. Please don’t think too poorly of me after this, when I told these lies I was young and immature, as opposed to now, when I’m old and immature.
Lie. “I’m not really that hungry, I’ll just have a salad.”
Truth. I was starving. My stomach was literally eating itself, but I didn’t want him to think I was a fatty fatty fat fat. Also, afterwards, I went home and ate like 3 boxes of bagel bites.
Lie. “Seriously, you don’t have to call me everyday. I’m not one of those girls.”
Truth. I was super pissed when he didn’t call me everyday. And I was well aware even then that the fact that I was mad at him was completely mental.
Lie. “Your friends of soooo funny. I really like them.”
Truth. Didn’t like one of them even a little bit.
Lie. “It’s so sweet when you call me “baby”. “
Truth. Hate it. Hate it so much it makes every muscle in my body tense up when I hear it as if I am preparing for battle.
Lie. “You should totally start a band. You would be brilliant in a band.”
Truth. That kid didn’t have an ounce of musical talent or taste in his body.
Lie. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m fine.”
Truth. Oh, something was wrong and I was definitely not fine. Poor kid, he didn’t have a chance.
Lie. “You’re right! This is an epic song.”
Truth. An epic tragedy and a musical affront to all mankind.
Wow. If I had a talking cricket (let’s call him Jiminy) who steered me in the right direction, he would be really proud right now. Also, I wouldn’t have to be a puppet anymore and it didn’t even require me surviving being swallowed by an ill-tempered whale while trying to find my Papa Gepeto. Oh happy day!
Also, I owe an apology to all those boyfriends past. Sorry guys! The truth is, I was always hungry, I wanted you to call, I didn’t like your friends, I don’t like being called baby, your band would have been terrible, I was mad as hell, and I think you have awful taste in music. But on the bright side, considering what I just told you, aren’t you glad we broke up? Silver lining fellas, silver lining.
Apparently, there are instructional videos for flirting. This is a REAL thing. And by real, I mean real freaking hilarious. Flirting, it’s an art and a science y’all. God bless YouTube.
So, if I’m to understand this absolutely genius video correctly, next time I see a guy I’m attracted to, I should approach him like this: “Hi. I have a positive attitude and a bright smile. This is light conversation. I don’t want to know too much about you. No deep conversations. I’m fiddling with my hair. I’m making you laugh. I’m staring you down. I’m intriguing. You’re fascinating. Do you find me fascinating? Your feet are pointing in my direction so I’m totally going to score with you. ( And by “score” I mean make sweet sweet random stranger love to you). Wink. I’m touching you, but not below the belt. That would be inappropriate.”
Who knew 8 steps was all it took to be successful at flirting? Why don’t they teach this in schools?? Man, our public education system is screwed up. I mean, how could they not teach me this? Finally, all is revealed! Wink, smile, eye contact. All these years I’ve been keeping my eyes shut and grimacing. So that’s what I was doing wrong. And never once, in all my flirting adventures did I stare a guy down while fiddling with my hair. I was sending all the wrong signals by you know, just having a good time. When you’re “on the hunt” you’re not supposed to be having fun, you’re supposed to be acquiring your target and then shooting him in the face or trapping him in a snare. I’m not really sure if that’s how it works, the hunting metaphor throws me off a little bit- it would seem that gun violence and nooses wouldn’t attract many men but, hey, what do I know, they’re the experts.
Long story short, I watched this video like 10 times because I was laughing so hard I kept missing some of the vital flirtation steps. You’re welcome dear readers, you’re welcome.
What’s the deal???
Listen. I was in downtown Austin last weekend with some of my friends, having a few laughs, catching up, meeting up with other friends, the usual. We were walking from one bar to the next when the following happened…
Drunk Guy Yelling From His Friends Car: Hey pretty lady in the red shirt! What’s the deal???
Me (wearing a red shirt): Awww. Thanks! That is much appreciated.
Drunk Guy: What’s the deal, baybay???
Me: You’re so sweet. Have a good night, be safe!
All my friends were laughing hysterically. I guess they had never heard someone respond to a drunk heckler like that. But, as I reminded them, he wasn’t just heckling me. He was heckle flattering me. Which is acceptable. He wasn’t yelling out anything lewd or inappropriate, he was just asking me “what the deal” was.
Well, kind drunkard, the deal is this: I appreciate you thinking I’m a “pretty lady” and more than that I love that you pronounce the word “baby” as “baybay”, to me that says you are clearly a creative and interesting person. And I especially appreciated your flattery because I was in a group full of couples and feeling a little lonesome, when you reminded me that, unlike my couple friends, I could totally hook-up with a stranger that night. Not that I would. But I could. And that made the evening a lot less lonesome. All of the sudden, I wasn’t flying solo because no one asked me out, I was flying solo because I chose to be flying solo. It made a world of difference. Perhaps your drunkeness makes you more insightful and you could tell by my walk I needed that little confidence boost. Or, perhaps, you were just severely drunk and looking to get you some. Either way, I appreciate what you did for me.
On the other hand, I am not an object and I do not appreciate being objectified. I realized this the next day. Sure, at the time, I was flattered, but the next day when my feminist senses had returned to me, I was infuriated (and still a little flattered). Perhaps, Mr. Drunkard, you have never heard the song ‘No Scrubs’ by TLC. Well let me break it down for you homie. ” I don’t want no scrub. A scrub is a guy that can’t get no love from me, hanging out the passenger side of his best friends ride trying to holla at me.” T-Boz, Chili, and Left Eye knew what was up and I suggest you learn as soon as possible. While I was very glad that your friend was driving, because you were entirely too drunk to be behind the wheel, hollering at me from the passenger side of his ride did not make the best first impression. You came off very scrub-like. In the future, here are some tips to make your attempts at figuring out “what the deal” is more successful.
1. Don’t holla at a lady in a moving vehicle. It makes you seem like a coward/scrub. Besides, what would your plan be if she seemed amenable to sharing “what the deal” is? You were in a moving vehicle, think about it. While I may enjoy the idea of drive-by flirting (being a flirtation failure myself), it really has no potential to go anywhere.
2. Approach a lady with respect. Introduce yourself. Offer to buy her a drink. Be friendly. Talk to her a bit and then ask “What’s the deal?” You can’t just straight approach a lady with “What’s the deal?” That’s foolishness.
3. Try not to yell.
4. Try not to be crazy drunk.
5. Maybe “What’s the deal?” isn’t the best line. You might want to try something else. Although, it did make me laugh, which is a good ice-breaker…..ummm…..just use your best discretion.
So, to sum everything up. I was flattered. I was infuriated. I laughed. I fumed. I hope I taught you a good lesson. Thank you drunk guy yelling from his friend’s car, if not for the flattery, then for giving me material for my blog. It is much appreciated.
Who knew a question mark could be such a jerk?
I know a guy who responds to everything you are saying with a question. Actually, what he really does is repeat the most important part of whatever you were saying as if it were a question. For example:
Me: Anne Bolyen was Henry VIII’s second wife.
Him: Second wife?
Even though I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that what I said was true, he made me think twice. At first, I just thought that was his way but now, now I realize there is a larger game at play. I realized this when I noticed a few things about his questioning ways. First of all, he only responded to the females in our group with questions. Second, the ladies (who are all intelligent and sassy) were fawning all over this guy by the end of the evening. That sly dog. I, however, did not fall prey to his little trap. Mostly because I found it to be highly annoying. I mean, I know I’m right yo! I don’t need your impertinent questions.
In fact, this guy was so popular with the ladies (and trust me, he is not what one would call a “dreamboat”) that I’m afraid his method of responding with condescending questions is going to catch on with sly guys everywhere. BE WARNED! A guy who responds to everything you say with slightly patronizing questions can only have one (or more) of the following motives.
1. He wants to throw you off your game. Question guy wants you to doubt yourself. He wants you to doubt everything you say. If you’re an expert in anthropology he will make you think you might have confused homo sapien with homo neanderthalensis, and that would just be crazy, right?! Why does he want to throw you off your game and doubt yourself??? So he has the upper hand. Do NOT give him the upper hand. You should be even handed. Your hands should be equal. Also, I think this guy might be a sexist. And a racist. I don’t really have any proof for the racism, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it was true.
2. He just wants to keep you talking. You are so intelligent and fabulous, he doesn’t want you to stop talking to him. Questions keep you talking. It’s as simple as that. BUT- if his questions are laced with condescension then STOP TALKING TO HIM. His plan just backfired. Idiot.
3. This guy wants to make you insecure so you might hook-up with him. You might think this is the same thing as number 1. It’s not. If a guy is trying to make you doubt yourself (as in number 1) he has a larger plan for a co-dependent relationship. That guy is goal oriented. If he is trying to make you insecure, he just wants to hook-up. This guy is gross and shady. When you come across this guy, keep my motto in mind “Don’t be shady, be a lady.” And don’t let some scumbag make you insecure. Remember in example number 2 when you were intelligent and fabulous? That’s true. Don’t let a fool who asks too many questions make you forget that.
4. He truly has nothing of value to say. In this case, I can understand the questions. Poor guy with nothing of value to say. Pity him. But don’t hook-up with him.
Honestly, looking back on the other night, I can’t believe this guy got away with these crazy question shenanigans. C’mon ladies. Don’t fall for this. He didn’t even use a sweet pick-up line. There was no effort whatsoever. You deserve a little effort. Or, at the very least, you deserve a guy who doesn’t make you question your own intelligence with his questions. I’m just sayin.
Be on the lookout for this guy. As soon as you recognize him for what he is, walk away. Or run away. Or jump out of the moving vehicle. Really, there is no exit too dramatic. It’s the only way these guys will learn their lesson. But also be careful that he wasn’t asking a genuine question because then you will be the jerk. And that’s the opposite of what I want.