Monday, May 22, 2017

The Vegan

There are certain life choices and stances people take and one of those is veganism.  Now, I have no problem with vegans (apart from they make horrible brunch dates), but I certainly learned I can not date one.

The Vegan.  Our first date we met up at a cafe and he said he was going to be ordering the portobello burger, which sounded good but I was going to order the turkey burger.  He tells me he's a vegan and my response was, "well you may be, but I'm going to order the turkey burger."  We continued to have a great discussion though and talked about The Walking Dead for ages and it was an enjoyable evening.  Homeboy let me know his degree from biology had taken him from counting ants in a forest for science to growing weed for seemingly some pretty big deal. We didn't really get together again for a long time, think he had a little fling with his ex again and so on.  But randomly we started messaging one another, met up for a couple of lunch dates with his dog Pablo... Pablo Escobar... aka "Pabs".

Few keynotes for the story about The Vegan.  We met up for drinks on his birthday when I was out with my friend and he was with his roomie. During introductions, my friend casually says, "We've met." Vegan responds, "No we haven't."  She insists "You look very familiar."  He shoots me a glance as I'm wanting to die where I'm stood and says, "I guess I must look like alllllll the others, have a type?"  Later on through further conversation, we find out that he and my friend had actually matched on a dating app previously and that was why he "looked familiar".  His friend sober drove while the other three of us got rather drunk, dropped us off at her place in midtown, and I was sent away with a simple kiss by the outside stairwell.  Time went by and we'd randomly message between his farming deals (ha, "farming").  Then summer came around and we started seeing each other more frequently following what I will say shamelessly, a very very late night random hook up. We began having more brunch dates, a dog date--in which my dog attempted to kill Pabs... straight for the jugular, that's my girl.  The Vegan was not impressed, but it was most certainly his fault by asking her to retrieve his toy.  He came over for a brunch I'd hosted with friends and as I've previously mentioned, vegans make shit brunch dates.  I found vegan bacon, guys... vegan bacon, and I also made vegan pancakes specially for him.

He was a good conversationalist guys, but extremely opinionated I soon found out.  The last keynote of The Vegan is that he was this close (pretend you can see my thumb and forefinger nearly touching)... this close to convincing me to buy property to grow weed on so that one day I could have a beach house. POINT IS, I didn't.  I'll be honest, I'm not really 100% sure what happened, the more time spent with him the more interest I lost.  It's one thing to smoke weed, it's another to be constantly high, and another to be doing some rather shady shit.
I think once I had eaten some meat and cheese my brain may have come to while he was away on a farming crisis and I just decided the lucrative vegan life wasn't for me .... and continued on swiping left and right.

Moral to this story is, don't date a vegan... Pretty sure it's bad for your health

Saturday, March 4, 2017

Ned Flanders

Let me first start by saying that I'm no longer on the dating app scene so the stories about dating-app related dates will be past dates that I just feel are worth a mention.

Now that that's out of the way, when I first entered the world of dating and began using these apps it may be fair to say that I assumed people were just more generous or well-intended than maybe they actually were.  Now that's not to say that anything horrible happened to me, it's just to say that I found some very nice people who helped this poor widow out who now had to learn "manly" tasks and how to use power tools to fix things.  For this, I may have caught what seems to be justified flack for utilizing dating apps as a handyman service.  One of these fellows will go by the name Ned Flanders.

Now, Ned was a nice guy.  We matched up but hadn't met up.  We had messaged back and forth and compared who was the better aunt or uncle and shared pleasant conversation time to time, but just didn't bother to actually have a date.  Well, the roommate at the time had ordered a wall mount for her TV and she was rather antsy to have it installed so that she could have TV in her room.  I of course being the stubborn and independent person I am, I thought this can't be that hard.  Well... 13 holes in the wall later and still no located stud.  Ned happened to text me and ask me what I was doing and I sent a photo of the now hole filled wall and just said, "failing to find a stud."

Now, give me a break.  I totally in hindsight realize how that sounded, but we can all acknowledge what I was intending was completely innocent.  It's now about 10:30PM and looking dismal in regards to our abilities in completing this task.  Ned of course responded with some comment about how he's a stud and told me that he used to do construction for Habitat for Humanity or some other various charitable construction based outfit.  Long story short, he drove about 20 miles to come in the middle of the night to a stranger's house to securely fasten a TV mount.  He was really good, showed up, with next to no effort he had this thing secured to the wall, even put all the items away, and it was a pleasant exchange.  On his way out the door he asked, "Need anything else?"  I said, "What else can you do?" and he replied, "I can set up electronics but not really fix them."  "Nope, don't need any of that, thanks!" I told him I owed him a coffee and that was that.

Fast forward, we ended up eventually going on a date when I bought tickets to go see Sac Republic FC and invited him.  A nice gentleman, he picked me up and drove us there and this is when it begins.  I of course have no problem dropping and F bomb here and an F bomb there.  We're driving and someone cuts him off and he says, "You booger-pants." or something really 7 year old like and definitely utilizing the word booger.  I laughed and apologized for my previous swearing and he told me he just really tries not to swear and instead uses words like "booger" and "poop head" as well as a list of maybe another four rather odd sounding items from a 27 year old.

Then, we are nearing the stadium and homeboy points to the right and says, "That's where my square-dancing club is."
Internal Dialogue: He did not say "square-dance".   "What was that?" I ask.
"I do square-dancing and we practice over there."
Internal Dialogue: He did just say that. I didn't think people still did that. "Oh, that's cool. I didn't quite catch what you'd said the first time."
Internal Dialogue: What the fuck, Laura.  You're going to send this guy home feeling like an 8 year old who just watched his first R rated film.  Get it together. 

So we watch the game and during the game he points out someone working the field as a member of his square-dance group.  How is it that thirty minutes prior I didn't even know that this even EXISTED outside of middle school gym class and maybe Oklahoma? And now, you're telling me that there is more than one person in conversational distance of me that does this?!

Anyway, the date or payment of hanging the wall mount was good, there were some G rated laughs and he dropped me off at home.  Over the next couple of months Ned invites me over for "no-pants parties" entailing cookies and Netflix or ice cream sandwiches and Netflix. I mean, at least he knew to appeal to my inner fat kid, but I was too lazy to drive to where he was and didn't bother.  Queue an evening dinner and drink with a coworker and feeling like I've not been validated enough by a guy I was pretty interested in... I text old Ned Flanders and I make the drive over there.  There were no ice cream sandwiches or cookies, but there was Netflix.  Now, the only non-Ned Flanders thing about him was that we definitely had the ole s-e-x and it was good until in The...Most.... Ned Flanders Way.... he says "Wow."  and not once, but several times.  It for sure made me uncomfortable.  "Wow" .... "Wow"  it was like worst than the clip of Lumbergh on Office Space:

In the morning he talked to me about Disneyland and how much it costs to go, letting me know what a Disney fan he was.  Of course you are, Ned.  Needless to say we really didn't ever hang out after that, talked a tiny bit, but I just couldn't hang with it.  My theory was that if he was in fact just that nice then he might be a serial killer or being around me would make him one.  I don't know, didn't want to find out.  60-40 guys... 60-40.  Also, always have ice cream sandwiches or cookies on hand. 

Monday, January 9, 2017

5'10" = 5'6"

So now that we have established a couple of things- those things being what the 60:40 rule is and that dating via apps fucking sucks... Let's discuss some basics in the dating app world... mostly, let's discuss "cat fishing" and how much you want to punch someone in the groin for doing it.

"Cat fishing" is evidently the term that is used when someone sells themselves as Package A and they are in fact not even a package of the alphabetical type, but some fucking shipped in from China knock off that you're not sure has anything to do with what you ordered.

When I first entered into the world of dating again and utilizing apps, I heard the following phrase quite frequently from my dates, "Oh thank GOD you look like your photo!"  The first couple of times I was genuinely surprised, "Why wouldn't I?" was my response.  To which I then became incredibly interested in the experiences these guys had previously encountered and I learned about this word, "catfish".  WHYYYYYY would anyone do this?! Like how fucking embarrassing for both parties.  If you have any intention of meeting up with this person, whyyyyy would you put either of you in the position of "Oh, sorry.  Yeah I'm not a 5'9", 140lb, blonde-haired, blue eyed blonde, who loves hiking, dogs, comic books, loads of pizza, and gaming.... mostly just the last three are true... maybe just the second to last."  Like, seriously... What. The. Fuck. Nonetheless, I asked each of these guys what they did in these scenarios and I just want to point out that even via an app I sometimes am a damn good judge of character as each of them said they still bought the ladies in question their dinner ... as they also proceeded to ask them what the fuck is wrong with them. ha.  

I digress, the point is-- knock it off, ladies! Jesus fucking Christ! If you're that uncomfortable with yourself do yourself the favor and fucking be honest because it for suuuuuuuure isn't going to be a better way to go about it by having that awkward moment.

But gentlemen... you're fucking awful too. So homegirl lied about her weight and her cat obsession (let's be honest, that's pretty much the gist of it), but fuck me when it comes to guys lying about their HEIGHT!!!! You want to talk about awkward?! Awkward is expecting you could put some wedges on and still get a decent hug while looking up and then finding out you have to bend down to pat the back of a dwarf awkwardly like you're still interested.  Here's the thing, I don't think I've ever once asked a guy what his height is.  Guys, on the other hand, ask chicks for loooooads of additional photos to prove their current state of whatever.  Guys... guys list their height!!!! They actually put it on there "6 foot because apparently that matters" or  "Don't worry, you can wear heels."  Jesus, nice creative line dude.

In any case... 6 foot = 6 foot.  I can confirm that people don't seem to lie about that one.  Anything 6 foot and up seems to be legit and honest, comfortable in being honest about their height if you will.
Now, it get's dicey below 6 foot.  Here's why:

5'11" is probably going to tell you he's 6' and you know what, give it to him.
5'10" I've yet to meet 5'10" but I'll tell you this- at least three times now I've seen "5'10"" listed on a profile and homeboy turns up and is either my height or shorter (aka he's fucking 5'6").  Every time I have to practice my poker face and pretend I don't notice the FUCKING FOUR INCH DISCREPANCY! Like seriously dude!!! How was I not going to notice this?  And this isn't a matter of "oh well maybe I can win her over with my amazing personality"  NO... NO... NO! Because now I'm legit just staring and wondering how you thought I wasn't going to notice this.

Why haven't I mentioned anything below 5'10"?  Because no one lists they're shorter than 5'10".  If there's no listing, you can guarantee they're short AF. Get your detective skills on and study their pictures for points of reference (like doors and other friends, but don't rely on the friend photos because they could be a whole gang of dwarves).

My other theory here is also that because they know you'll notice, they really do try to win you over by just non-stop talking about all of the great things they've done or are doing and how successful they are.  **Yawn** It's not okay.  It is not okay for me to think I'm going to meet some handsome dude and find out that a child-sized-man has shown up and I could probably beat him up. Just stop it, guys.  That's not a 60:40 master move.  It just isn't.  That's you being your own damn cock-block. Because now the chick across from you is wondering what else is likely not the size she thought-- just saying.


Monday, January 2, 2017

How to get in her Pants and Stay There

I have quickly come to find how complex the dating world can be and I am incredibly grateful that awkward-as-all-fuck young Laura did not have to do a whole lot of it before locking down the husband.  Awkward-as-all-fuck older Laura; however, is totally finding this to be a gruesome sport (yes, it often feels like a sport) in which the rules are always changing, the expectations of what it means to be a female seem to be ever evolving, it's a complete and utter magic 8 ball chance when it comes to the intent of others... let me just say, it's not my favorite thing.

As a female, a 28 year old female, we are expected to have our lives together job and housing wise, be young and fit, be both a classy-domestic-goddess and somehow like a secret sex-crazed animal in the bedroom.  That's fucking exhausting.  Not to say I haven't got this like down, but it really is kind of exhausting.  Like women are hard-wired... HARD... WIRED... to just be fucking hands down amazing at everything all for the sake of finding some man-child who will bring home the bacon, tell her she's pretty, and do a mediocre job at using his penis to make her orgasm.  That's legit how it is.
Now let me tell you how it is for a man.

Men think that women are superficial and that they want some hot guy who makes a ton of money, will whisk her away on dreamy vacations, make her culinary masterpieces and even clean up the kitchen afterward, they think we want someone who takes their shirt off and makes our jaws drop to the floor with their amazing abs just before they throw us over their shoulder to take us to the bedroom for the best sex ever, and then lay in bed for hours saying how lucky they are to have such an amazing woman and that they'll never stick their penis in any other vagina because ours is so amazing and all they'll ever need.     .... Okay, you got me.  Yes, that is absolutely what every woman wants.  But here's the thing, we aren't fucking stupid and we know that's beyond the possible just as the above expectation for women is retarded (even though we do obviously crush it daily).  That being said... here's all a man really has to do:

Exist.  

Just kidding. But seriously, apart from maybe having a decent full time job, paying your own bills, knowing how to do your own laundry, being like half way decent looking by taking a shower on the regular, and just being fucking nice and loyal... that's really it.  I've actually given some decent thought to this and even pilot tested my theory with some pointers to guy friends and it appears I've developed some sort of formula that will help any guy find a lady friend and keep her (should he so please).

Introducing, The 60:40 Rule.

The 60:40 Rule is the idea that every girl loves a little mystery to their man.  From being little and watching Disney to graduating to some PG-13 films where we go through our streak of loving us some bad-boys turned good-we really need a bit of mystery, a bit of does he like me, the feeling of having to work for it a little bit (but not too much).  We need to feel like we've earned something.  No one wants the free shit being handed out at the mall that isn't really free, it's a sample that now if you've stopped to accept it you have to listen to some God awful sales pitch and you have like a 70% chance of leaving with more shit you wanted nothing to do with in the first place all to get someone to shut up.  That's true in dating too.  You don't want the fucking freebie because it's only a lure to a place you don't want to go.

The 60 in the 60:40 is that mystery.  It's the sarcasm, the quiet moments where he's looking at you and you're wondering "Is there spaghetti on my face or is he admiring how beautiful my eyes are?" but you'll never know.  It's the feeling that you want to look your best every time you see this guy because you want him to want you just as much, but you both play it cool (which by the way, makes the sex better).  The sixty is the little jokes that as a guy you should make-- don't be mean, like just little jokes here and there, be sarcastic, be witty, leave her thinking you always know a tad bit more, master your clever look.

The important part is the 40.  Too much 60 makes you an asshole.  Too little makes you too easy and you become the free sample in the mall. The 40 is the part where you say nice things, where you make her dinner, where you compliment her and tell her you want her to be your forever-fuck-partner (that's similar to like a forever home for dogs, but for your penis). This is where you channel your inner Disney prince and you say and do things for her that she won't necessarily share with her girlfriends or your friends but she'll just say "I don't know guys, he's just so sweet" and that's good because you don't lose man-points, but you've earned get-in-her-pants points.

So how do you balance these? Let me tell you. You're welcome by the way, guys and girls alike... because this might just re-invent the wheel for you.  Here's how this gets balanced, I'll give a few examples.

Example 1 - Telling a girl she looks great before a date

Nice Guy: You're just so gorgeous.
This is nice, don't get me wrong. But many girls haven't learned how to take compliments and if it's how the dialogue is most the time, it will start to feel freebie-ish.

Asshole: I can't wait to bend you over and fuck you.
Just, ew.  Like there's the feeling of "I don't know how to respond to 'You're gorgeous'" and then there's the feeling of "well that's kind of nice, but if I say thanks am I saying that's what we're doing later? What did he say his name was again?" 

60:40 master: You look really good in that, those jeans make your ass look hot. 
This is where it's at.  Girl has just spent an hour and a half debating what damn articles of clothing to put together to make sure that ass looks hot and her hair is flawless... that little pat on the back goes a loooong way and following it with the subtle version of "by the way you're also really sexy" makes her blush and know to say "thank you" and she's not feeling like you're an absolute scum bag. 


Example 2- Telling a girl you really appreciate her cooking you dinner

Nice Guy: Thank you so much for making me dinner, I love mac 'n' cheese. (Maybe insert awkward across the table hand touch here).
Now, it may not seem like there's anything wrong with this, but you might friend-zone yourself here. She was going to make you dinner anyway and awkward hand touches are just that-awkward.  Don't reach across the damn table to hold hands.  At that point you may as well be the couple sitting on the same side of a restaurant booth and feeding each other while everyone else gags and calls you weirdos.  It's just too much. 

Asshole: How about we skip the dinner (that she just spent an hour preparing while also trying to still look flawless) and go go the bedroom.
The fuck.  No.  You will sit down and enjoy this dinner and you'll tell me how amazing it is and that I fucking look good cooking it and you can't wait to show off your culinary skills by making me a delicious dinner where all I have to do is enjoy it and admire your good looks.  Where's the wine?!

60:40 Master: Can I pour you a glass of wine? This looks delicious, almost as delicious as you making it.  Next time I'll have to spoil you by making you dinner. 
Excuse me while I blush and all I can say is "shutup, I got it at costco and just threw it in the oven, but what's that about you cooking?"  


Now, I know what you're thinking... this is just you Laura.  No. I can guaran-fucking-tee that this will work on at LEAST 90% of the female population.  We don't like overly touchy, compliment spewing, practically begging for our reciprocal affection.  While we like feeling sexy AF (that stands for "as fuck") we also don't like feeling like a piece of meat and we want our damn effort fucking recognized.  Like I said, it's hard fucking work being a sex machine of a domestic goddess who looks flawless 100% of the time, but we fucking do it so acknowledge that ok?!  Balancing the sexiness with the reciprocating spoiling notion is sexy AF.  Thank you for acknowledging all the hard work I did to gain your interest and for mildly expressing that you want to do the same for me because I'm a fucking catch. That's right.

I'm telling you.  This shit is how you get in a girl's pants and you stay there. Get this down and the world of women is your oyster... which is also an aphrodisiac so you're welcome. I'm just a plethora of helpful information.  Now if only I could find that 60:40 master.  I think I may have, but we shall see.  At the end of the day, as I've said, the female is hard wired to work for that life-long mate.  All we want is the security of feeling we are always more than enough, but that are efforts are warranted and appreciated.  I've not done enough field research yet to confirm what the female's ratio is for getting a man to commit but I'll get back to y'all on that one.