My Ideal Man

If I had to write the quintessential romance about the oh-so-perfect male, who said the oh-so-perfect thing, at the oh-so-perfect time, I'd burn it....but not before shamefully sharing it, of course.

Ok, so here it goes....

It would be fall, most certainly fall when we met. He would be tall, but not too tall. Handsome, but not too handsome. The dashing good looks of Clooney in his present aged years, blended with a few off-beat characteristics like a James Franco smile and that damned surprised look Jake Gyllenhaal always wears on his face. His hair would most certainly be dishelved and tuggable, and brown of course. He would have a stylish air about him and wear his clothes in a slightly unkempt manner. An understatement that displayed an “I care, but not too much” attitude. Which, I assure you, would be his disposition on life. He would be the type of male who was centered on his interests and generally unimpressed by frills and frivolity. His mission in life would in no way be dictated by dollar signs and status, but by genuine interest and the form of discipline that comes only from true passion.

He would have taste, great taste. I'm not talking red wine and Beethoven, I'm talking whiskey straight up and maybe a button down shirt; my idea of class is rather simple. He would be the type to keep a respectable place, but a man's place. His clothes would be sitting in his computer chair all wadded up and he would have at least 6 different books strewn across the coffee table. The corner of his floor would be scattered in miscellaneous DVDs and he would have last night's drinks still sitting on the counter. The kind of apartment that says “Hey, I have a life” to attend to but I'm not a complete mess. Most importantly, he would own a handful of “Hey” objects. If you don't know what that means, it is the period in time when you come across one of your most favored things in the world at someone else's place. For example (or in my case), he would own the box set series to Planet Earth, a 6-pack of Breckenridge Vanilla Porter, and maybe a picture from an event we both attended years ago unbeknownst to each others existence.

He would wear sexy morning glasses. This is to any girl who has ever dated a guy with contacts and woken up to him in glasses and felt that unexplainable need to ravish him because of it. I don't know the psychological science behind this mystery, but I know there is one. Ladies?

He would be the kind of guy who kisses his mother goodbye on the forehead and is still only comfortable giving his dad one of those awkward forced sidehugs. He will have grown up with a childhood dog as all good men do and come from a quaint hometown. His parents beginnings in life will have been meager at best, but they “made do” until they established themselves in late adulthood. Because of this, he will have established a kind of character that realizes the actuality and value of hard work. He will have played a sport or two in his life but retired them as hobbies that he participates in twice annually “when the boys come to town.” When he hits his forties, he'll coach.

He'll also have managed to read this entire thing without giving up, rolling his eyes, or feeling some odd sense of insecurity. So uhm, if this is you, call me?

What Having A Crush Is Like

You know that moment when you're standing in a room amongst a group of friends, a gathering like any other, and then THAT person walks in the room. The person you don't yet know, but know that you are going to know. Not in that subtle, we're about to shake hands and be nonchalantly introduced and carry on with our evening sort of way, but that automatic goddammit gut-wrenching reaction you get when your attraction is fatal. I see you, you see me, you see me seeing you, and this is going to happen. It might not happen tonight, it might not happen this week, but some time down the line there will be something between us and there is nothing either of us can do to stop it. It may be brief, it may be casual, or it may last an agonizingly long time....but.it.will.happen.

You love these moments for the exact same reason you hate these moments. The tension is high waiting for this person to make their way across the room toward you, standing just far enough away that one of you must make the first move. You feel it, they feel it, and my god do you both want to say something. Then you do... and it starts. The build-up is enough to activate even the most asinine comment into hours of banter on quite literally anything. You find yourself laughing at remarks you'd consider calling your own mother retarded for making, but in this case they seem intelligible and charming.

Then you remember why you hate these moments. After some undetermined amount of time, one of you has to break. They need another drink, they have friends they are neglecting, or it is just plain social tact not to spend your entire evening ogling over one individual(no matter how much you want to). You aimlessly find your way back to the friends you came for and spend the rest of the night wondering how long it will be until they find themselves in your vicinity again. You ask all your friends vague questions about the individual while trying to appear as indifferent as possible.

The person always ends up back your way before the evening is over and makes it a point to socialize with the rest of your group, ensuring they are in fact not desperate and not standing there only for your attention(even when they are). Your anxieties diminish when they tell you about the next big event they'll be attending, or invite you out with “everyone” to some semi-casual outing that will be taking place over the next few days. Then you spend the next few days harassing the hell out of any of your friends who will also be attending said event, making it a point that you REALLY want to go this time.

So you go, and there you are. They enter and graze the room until their eyes lock yours. You become a

magnetic target and everyone they pass on their way to you is a road block. With every friend and acquaintance they embrace, you can visibly see the tension in their bodies that so desperately want to make their way to yours, their eyes darting your way after every spoken word from another. Every handshake, hug, and hello is a slow torture that they can't quite stand and you sit back and ache a little with them and soak up the glory that comes when you know you're wanted by the very one you want.

These moments are so few and far between in life that you can feel your very knees sink beneath you when you finally touch. Remember THOSE smiles you get from the opposite sex that are so prevalent in the beginning of a courtship? The ones that are filled with wonderment and curiosity, and the present innocence of detachment yet ignited flame, the calm before the storm, the dawn before the rising sun. The smiles, that outside of these few brief weeks, you'll likely never come across on this person again....yes, THOSE smiles.

Then you finally build up the courage to start seeing each other solely, casually. Movies, restaurants, bars, and whatever silly way you can use for a backdrop to your conversations. These are the moments where your crush solidifies and leads you to that one defining moment: The Kiss (or whatever else).

While such an event is a making moment for a relationship, it is the breaking moment for a crush. These are the moments where people “realize” things they hadn't quite thought of before and it all falls apart. The few days following are when you realize just how much you feel for this person and just how not OK you are with it and how terrified you are of being hurt again. Or you decide that you only kinda-sorta feel for this person and how not OK you are about that as well. You realize that maybe you aren't quite as over so-and-so from before and the thought of this attraction turning into a co-dependent relationship scares the utmost dogshit out of you. That, or you find yourself having those sneaking feelings of jealousy or insecurity that you had forgotten exist within you. You start decoding all the things they did or didn't say and realize within yourself that “something” just isn't right. You're not right, they're not right, and one of you is going to realize it first. If you're the one who realizes it, the crush is theirs; if they realize it, the crush is yours. This is what separates a crush from a heartbreak, they reel you in just enough to crush your ego, but not enough to break your heart.

Just Say No

This is an official proclamation, a solemn dedication, to just say no. No, no, no.

Assuming you read anything that I say, I am likely to conclude that you have reached your 20s. This being said, I can also conclude that you are in the dating (or whatever) prime of your life. As of late, every talk show and radio program I come across are discussing the new “rejection hotlines” and other miscellaneous cop-out systems for people who just can't seem to grow a sack, people just like me. So, awkwardettes of the world, this is my conclusive list of why just getting it over with and saying “No” is the best possible solution out there.

1. Don't Waste His/Her Time.
   As a whole, men are a pretty clueless breed. The average male has likely tripled the “friend zone” ratio that women have and is exhausted trying to decode the Rubik's Cube of female intention. Pop culture tells women to ignore men that they like while simultaneously telling them to completely ignore men they don't like. So, if you like him: ignore him. If you don't like him: ignore him. Makes sense, right? Wrong.
   Look, Ladies, just say no. That is the only decided way to evade uncomfortable texts and the almost kiss at every door you're trying to close in his face. Stop calling well-intentioned men “creeps” and own up to the fact you're just being a passive little bitch-baby. Don't give him a fake number, don't tell him to contact you through Facebook, and please dear god, don't tell him you're seeing someone else that you're not. The average male ego has received enough scuffs to trek through another disappointment. Trust me, you're not going to kill him. Just.Say.No.
   And Gentlemen, you're expected to do the same. Yes, I know, all other girls will hereby conclude that you're an “asshole” for not giving so and so a chance because she is just so wonderful, pretty, kind, lovely, yadda, yadda, yadda....and if you could only see it the two of you would be “so happy together.” Look, if you don't feel it, you don't feel it....regardless of how wonderful this person may actually be. Spare them their pride and don't mislead them down a long road that ends with you making out with the less than well-intentioned, not so girl next door type, in your local neighborhood bar....in front of all of her friends. Just.Say.No.
2. You Actually Could End Up Friends
   I know it sounds cliché, but it is true. This person likely sees a compatibility between you as people and is expressing interest in getting to know you. Stop labeling people with a genuine interest in you as “gross” and start being flattered, you little shits. If you establish the fact that you're not interested early on and extinguish the flames of any sexual tension that person may have been building for you, you can likely make it into a friendship. However, lead them on, let their emotions become invested in a “what could be” moment and the odds of salvaging anything from the situation is doomed....well, for a year or so anyway. People do get over shit eventually.
3. Assertiveness Is Sexy
   This is like the science of sociality. What goes up must come down, energy cannot be created or destroyed, objects fall at the same rate, and assertiveness is sexy; look it up. There is solid truth in “It's not what you say, but how you say it.” This is the line that separates the comedian from the cynic and the politician from the tool on the pedestal. If you can manage to develop one skill in your life, let it be assertiveness. No one respects a person who runs from confrontation, especially someone who runs from a kind soul asking to get to know them better. There are plenty of things to fear in this life, turning down a date shouldn't be one of them. Don't ignore their texts, respond clearly and with confidence in your decision to decline their request: it will serve both of you well. Plus, let's face it, we're adults now. We are at an age where we need to stop pondering “who we are” and finally make up our minds to be whoever that is. Part of being an adult is saying no to going out when you have a long day at work the next day, it is saving money instead of spending it, and it is about not being ashamed to say you know what you want and aren't afraid to get it.....and reject it if you don't. Will some people dislike you for it? Sure, but the odds go way down if you can look them in the eye and say what is going on in your head. Nobody likes to be avoided like the plague. Time to grow up, kids, and Just.Say.No.

To Have or to Hold, To Love or to Loathe

10 Friends we all have and loathe.....

#1 The Reformer

This person has found “it,” and whatever “it” is....they want everyone else in the world to find it too. Whether it be true love, weight-loss, the power of positive thinking, a new organic vegan diet, Jesus Christ, yoga, Buddhism, or _______(inspiration of choice). They have now made it their life mission to persuade anyone and everyone they know into believing their particular brand of fetish and feel a new strange “sympathy” for the rest of the population. If everyone could JUST discover what they've discovered, the world would be rid of its cruelness and insanity. Unfortunately, they walk down a lonesome road of “enlightenment” for about 6 months to 3 years, until they snap out of it and we can all make fun of them.

#2 The Relationship One

You met this person when they were casually dating a good friend of yours. Things were going great between them and your friend until they abruptly ended it and started dating someone else a week later. That relationship lasted about a month until they decided they needed time alone to think about their relationship dependency issue....while simultaneously sleeping with one of their exes and meeting the newest love of their life, who also happens to be the ex of one of their best friends. After an explosive, all-out battle with their now ex-best-friend, they end it with their significant other....so that they can date his/her best friend.

# 3 The Chilled Out One

By Chilled I mean lazy, by Out I mean High. Yep, living in mom and dad's basement, talking about their next big rafting trip aspiration friend.....or their music project that will be getting off the ground ANY time now...when they move to Portland or Seattle or Nashville, or or or or or or.....Anywhere but off the couch to get a real job.

# 4 The Questionably Gay One

You know, that friend of the opposite gender that you spend nearly every waking moment with, having hour-long phone conversations and telling all your darkest secrets to....the one your parents always ask if you're dating and all your guy friends ask “He's gay, right? I mean, not that it matters, I'm not homophobic or anything, it just seems that way.” Then you spend all your time defending their justice and proclaiming that there is absolutely NO possibility that they are gay. They are your best friend, they'd tell you, right? RIGHT?!?! Then you remember that you've spent 439840934802 beside them in bed and they've never tried anything...but they've had exes of the opposite sex so they clearly can't be gay....and you know all the people they've slept with.....so totally not gay......?..........?............

#5 The Pretentious Asshole

You hangout with these people because you spot them across the room and find them ridiculously, crazy sexy in that offbeat Adrien Brody/Zoey Deschanel sorta way. They wear classic black & white Adidas and you love all the same movies, music, and books. You feel like you could talk forever....only problem, THEY TALK FOREVER AND EVER AND EVER AND EVER. They also tell you what you should and shouldn't like and inevitably end up making you want to gnaw your own arm off. No wonder they stand against the wall by themselves. It's not because they're elusive, it's because they piss people off.....but you keep hanging out with them, because hey, at least they're great at making fun of people who deserve it.

#6 The Party Animal

You hardly know them and the second you walk into the bar they're buying you shots. You try to say “no thanks, I have to drive” while they dismiss whatever it is you're trying to say and refuse to stop cheering you on until you drink the damn shot. You decide they're essentially annoying, but nonetheless, pretty awesome. You can't explain why you like them other than the fact they LOVE you for no reason at all. Their house is decorated like a thrift shop of party: shot glasses, beer mugs, pong tables, glow sticks, lava lamps, beads, and pictures on every mantel from the last 25 trips they've made to the beach. For whatever reason, they're also always missing at least one article of clothing....pants, shoes, shirt, you name it, they can't find it. But hey, you haven't seen anyone naked in a while so you'll take whatever visual you can get.

#7 The Free Spirit

And by this I mean slut. We all have one, that stupendously easy friend of ours. The one you go out with at night but never have to drive back home. The one who says they're “just meeting up with someone for a minute,” and actually means it. The one who is always going in and out of the bar the entire night, trailing whatever piece of *** they're going to conquer by 2am. As I'm sure you know, they have unlimited texting and treat their phone like a precious grenade ready to explode at any minute. Every piece of technology they own is password locked and we all know exactly why (like those photos from 3 summers ago never got out). Every party you attend with them is laced with tension and awkward encounters. You don't mind though, at least they never judge you

#8 ADHD

ADHD friends are great for spans of about 20 minutes. They're like live entertainment you don't have to pay for. Generally speaking, they're insanely talented. They can either sing, dance, skateboard, do back flips outta nowhere, or are the best basketball players you've ever seen. Unfortunately, they remind you of their talents 40 times an hour and refuse to quit performing them like a circus clown while requiring more attention than a rebellious toddler. Just remember, next time don't invite them over until you're already drunk.

#9 The Broke One

“Wanna go with us this weekend to Cincinnati?”

“Can't, I'm broke.”

“Oh, well, we're all going out for drinks tonight. Wanna come to that instead?”

“Nah, no thanks, I don't want to come if I can't afford to drink.”

“I understand. We're all going to my place for a little bit after that, want to swing by?”

“Uhm, I don't have gas in my car and don't get paid til Thursday.”

“OK. You fuck. Want me to pay for everything and come pick you up?”

“I'll be ready in 5. Oh yeah, can you pick me up some cigarettes on the way? I'll pay you when you get here.”

“I thought you were broke.”

“..........................................”

#10 The More Successful One

Maybe I should reword that into the “lucky” one. They're not highly paid because they're hard-working and determined, they're highly paid because they knew someone or were at the right place at the right time. They've landed a job in insurance sales, oil, or the family business, doing some menial task for outrageous pay. They'll remind you constantly of how grueling their job is as a means of downplaying how wealthy they are now. They'll drive an Audi, Jetta, or some other semi-pricey car to establish their new status....nothing too fancy though, they want to remain “humble.” They'll dine with other successful entrepreneur types and order all the finest foods dumbed down to Applebee's quality. Their filets will be well, they'll coat every starch in ranch, and they'll drink at minimum 4 sodas in an hour setting. You can lead a horse to water....but unfortunately, you can't drown the pricks in it.

The 3 Types of People Everyone Should Avoid Dating, but Can't

The “Hotmess”

The Hotmess is always thin. I mean this, ALWAYS thin. Not because they're blessed with a natural metabolism or zest for life, but because their “diet” consists of hard liquor, soda, and a severe form of neurotic-ism that keeps them up all night. This consistently poor malnutrition leads to a disheveled, Kate Moss, collar-bone popping, sexually irresistible look that as the title preludes, can actually make a mess look “hot.”

The male of this order can be identified by his 5-o'clock, I-don't-give-no-fucks shadow, an unbuttoned shirt thrown sloppily over some generic T, looking like he just crawled out of bed at 8 o'clock in the evening. His appearance alone should be a firing missile, for someone who doesn't have enough social tact or self-regard to brush their hair before leaving the house should send clear signals that his internal workings are likely as unkempt as his external appearance.

And her, Ms. Hotmess, you can see, wait...hear her coming a mile away. This Au natural, minus the mandatory black eyeliner, wavy-haired, frumpy vixen can be spotted in a simple black tank and jeans, with as minimalistic a look as her male counterpart. Her desperation, in-and-out, fly by the handles love relationships are as frequent as her nights being carried home from the bar. This girl carries emotional baggage the size of a Nicole Richie handbag, and seeps her way into the male psyche by showering him with excessive attention and helping him to momentarily escape the droll of his monotonous existence.

This is where they get you, the enchantment of disregard for norms and a carefree, understated charm that draws in and entices those of us with real jobs and emotional stability. For a moment, they make you believe that life is a whimsical, unattached, roadshow and that the world really is your oyster. Then you wake up, roll-over, and realize the train wreck that just plowed you last night. You start to realize that all their “dreams” are exactly just that and nothing more. You realize their lack of regard for social norms is a deep-rooted insecurity that in actuality has isolated them into the shitshow they are today. To spite their intellectual jargon, they haven't “freed” themselves from limiting social constructs, but have entangled themselves into such a deep web of self-involvement that they'll never get back out.

Mr./Ms. Self-Entitled

I hate these people, so I will basically keep it brief. They're not hard to find, because they're likely the most polished, well-kept individual in the room. They will sport whatever the J. Crew or Polo mannequin told them to, and they will laugh louder than everyone else. The only things they have to say will be narcissistic self-reflections and praises, or downright, disrespectful, cut-throat insults that they hurl at anyone who challenges their ego.

They will probably scoff at anyone who wasn't born to their same set of privileges, and label 90% of the general population as “losers.” The only qualifiers for being a loser in their book is not being at their achievement level or higher; they hold themselves as the pinnacle of acceptability.

To save you time, self-esteem, and money....don't bother with these fucks. Because in all actuality, there is no other word to describe them. One day, something real will happen to them to knock them off their royal asses and they'll most likely enter therapy and never leave. They are like watching a life-long rerun of Arrested Development.

The Wildcard

Oh Dear God, the Wildcard. Everyone already has, and most likely will again, date a Wildcard. The Wildcard is hard to pin down in appearance because they're not associated with any particular scene. They can be found at any class level and within any social group. The only quality they share is that natural, all American, boy/girl next-door, classic good looks that anyone can appreciate. They're good-looking, but not so good-looking that they can't be trusted; the perfect 8 out of 10.

The trouble with the Wildcard? Commitment. The REAL trouble with the Wildcard? They've dated several of your friends. The REAL, REAL trouble with the Wildcard? You know better, but just can't help yourself.

We all know these people because their reputations precede them. You hear the stories of their charming ways and their ability to captivate anyone then leave them hanging dry. They're the classic heart-breaker that you've decided you dislike before even meeting them. Then you meet them.

....and.it.all.comes.crumbling.down. That gracious, big smile, the doe-eyed expression, and this sweet, irresistible appearance that could melt the heart of Ebenezer Scrooge.

And they're soooooo damn convincing. When they say “I like you,” they look you dead in the eye. When they say you're “different” from all the others, you think they really mean it. When they say they're here to stay, you believe them and....3 weeks later they're gone.

And you're left thinking S(*&, F*$@, G**&*mmit, I KNEW IT! The Wildcard is the only type really capable of making you blame yourself. You'll go on to hear stories of them conquering this person, that person, and then the next. Then suddenly, out of nowhere, you'll look at their Facebook page and they'll be settled down and married with a kid on the way, and you'll say....WHAT THE FUCK?!

That is the catch of the Wildcard: they are the quintessential Mr./Ms. Right, minus their inability to settle down, until one day they do and piss everyone else off. They are the “he/she will come around someday,” and just when you think it is getting too late and they'll never change, they do. That is what makes them a Wildcard....they can make or a break a hand, it just depends on the game you're playing.

"So you want to be in love like the movies?"

Love is patient, love is kind, but people aren't so get that shit out of your head.

You want to know what love actually is?

True, legitimate, this is going to take me a straight year or more to get over kinda love?

This is going to exhaust my friends, annoy-myself-to-death listening to me talk, mull it over 3 billion times in my head, what did I just do, should've seen it coming, kinda-love.

The kind you don't feel until it's really over, and I mean really, facebook friends removed kinda-over.

I just untagged myself from all your photos, go-fuck-yourself, we're through, don't text me kind of finished. The real shit. That is what I'm talking about here.

The kind where you remove their number from your phone. Not because you don't have it memorized already, but so you don't incessantly text-harass them with “I hate you” post-breakup messages at 2am during your mandatory 3 to 6 month drinking/whatever you do to get-over-it phase.

I mean rock-bottom, heart on the table, I swear I'll never let anyone do this to me again love.

The kind where you legitimately believe that no matter how great it was at one time, you'll never let yourself fall again because the pain in the end just wasn't “worth it.”

Yet, at the same time, you crave intimacy more than you ever have before during this period and resent yourself more for it. In fact, you resent yourself for most everything. Even if you're the one who ended it you hate yourself for giving them a chance, letting them in to hurt you, for knowing better to begin with, for not listening to your friends, for listening to your stupid friends (but what the fuck do they know, anyway), for all the time you wasted, for how many times you put yourself out there, for being trampled over, lied to, and generally publicly humiliated, or at least in your own mind.

Yeah, that kind of love.

The I wake up every morning and feel it in my gut, on my chest, in my head, my whole body hurts love. The I never want to see you again because all I want in life is to see you again.

Dirty, nasty, I'd never tell my mother what we did, you have all my secrets, know all my insecurities, filthy-filthy love.

Yeah.

That kind of love.

So where do we go from here?

You know damn well where we go. From this person, to that person, to this person, back to that person, in a merry-go-round of I'll do damn near anything, or semi-attractive anyone, to get you off my mind. In fact, I'll do this until inevitably I realize it doesn't change a damn thing, other than my reputation and perspective of the opposite sex. I'll push everyone who gets remotely close to me so far away that eventually I'll start to believe I'm invincible, or at minimum, unbreakable. That's right, you've made me into a self-professed, hard-hearted, no one can ever hurt me again, you're-all-the-same, fuck everyone with the same kind of genitals as you, fool.

Then one day, probably a year from now, I'll be over it.

I'll see you out with someone who isn't nearly as good for you as me, and I'll think to myself, “that's gonna blow when they break your heart the way you did mine.”

Then eventually, it will happen. Someone will crumble them to pieces and they'll become the whaling, blubbering idiot you were a year ago...and you'll smile. Not because vengeance was served, but because you finally realized this is life, and this is love, and it happens to everyone. Everyone. Even to the one who broke you.