kissing frogs

My Romcom-in-Real-Life Romance was short lived, as Hank* was unable to follow through on his romantic gestures. I was disappointed to say the least, but at least I found out quickly.

Next came Tony*. He was a tall, successful, ruggedly handsome business owner who seemed to think I hung the moon. I was really warming up to him as well, and considering our future options. We had been out a dozen or so times, when Hallow's Eve's Eve gave me a fright! We were hanging out at a bar talking with some people we just met. The election was quickly approaching and out it comes that Tony had already voted absentee/mail in ballot for HitlerVoldemortTrump, a man who scares the bejeezus out of me. A man who has a life-long reputation of being a sexual predator and a scam artist of a businessman. A man who regularly makes racist comments, and (at the time) had two pending trials in the next couple of months for fraud and for the rape of a 13 year old girl.

I told Tony that we needed to just not talk politics (so I could consider what to do with a guy I like who is obviously morally at odds with me). We talked about other things. We left the bar and were headed back home when we passed by a Hollywood iconic hotel and he asked if we could hop out for a drink in the hotel bar. Sure. More drinks sounds like a swell addition to this evening. At the bar, we started talking with the other people bellied up, and lo and behold Tony brings up Trump again! I am pretty drunk, so things get pretty heated. Long story short, I got so mad I got up and left him there! uhmNOthx buh-bye you can keep your selfish reasons for voting for evil.

Next was Johnny*. His online profile pix were dapper and handsome. When we met, his IRL self was moderatly attractive, but I felt no spark at all. On the plus side, we had a blast hanging out! He was hilarious. After 2 beers, I was ready to leave, but he doesn't ask and orders us another round. ...ok... well, I won't be rude, he is sweet, I'll hang out. After beer 3, I say I really must leave, and he very sweetly walks me to my car. I go in to give a polite hug, and he shoves his tongue down my throat. Dude. Johnny. I gave you no indication that I was open to that! Ugh. Next.

Finally I met Tyrone*, a gorgeous tatted up former musician turned real-job-holder. He was funny, smart, not voting for Trump, and seemed to be really my type. We had a first date that turned into practically three dates. Charming, sweet, and seemingly into me. Until he reaveals on date two that he is moving to Phoenix at the end of the month, but if things go well, we can fly back and forth on the weekends to "romp" and if things go really well, maybe more. Well call me flattered, you want to be FWB with me? Ugh. #ByeFelicia

I feel like I'm on an episode of MTV's Next.

But you gotta kiss a bunch of frogs to find your prince, right? Pucker up and kiss it...

*names changed to protect the frogs

gay pair-eee

Gay as in happy. Pair-ee as in Paris, with a French accent.

I just returned from Paris, where I spent a week flopped on the futon in my parent's studio apartment. My parents have become quite the jet-set travellers in their old age, and have recently acquired a 1/8-th share in a "quaint" little shithole 300+ year old apartment in the 2nd Arrondissement in the City of Lights. The location couldn't be better, and the apartment couldn't be dumpier. But hey, the price was right! *free*

We tromped all over the city, shopping on the ritziest street and in flea markets, eating at urban hipster hot spots and old world historical landmarks, saw Mona at the Louvre and Barbie (the one that dates Ken) at Les Arts Decoratifs. It was a blast, despite the rain that persisted the whole week.

I forgot my razor at home and embraced my inner French girl. I ate loaves upon loaves of bread and basically an entire government cheese wheel amount of every melty rich mama-animal-teat- producing goodness I could. I drank gallons of wine. And I'm pretty sure my waist is smaller than when I left home.

French women eat. They eat carbs and fat and they drink and they are all thin. They might work out, but you would never know. In the whole city I saw one gym and one yoga studio. In a week of wandering through packed streets I saw two women wearing activewear. French women dress. And French women smoke. eww.

I'd like to be more French - eat rich delicious foods, drink rich delicious wines, dress with purpose each day, maybe even smoke a cigarette or two. Ok, maybe not the smoking (ewww).

this cigarette is so angry!

But food is different in France. There you buy your bread from the boulangerie where it has been freshly baked that day, you buy your cheese from the fromagerie where it has also been made fresh. Your wine comes from grapes raised without pesticides and is monitored by a commission yearly to be kept to a certain standard. Restaurants offer what is fresh and local and in season.

Here in the states we shop at huge conglomerate grocery stores that stock huge conglomerate bread and cheese that comes from some warehouse made by industrial machines and unskilled workers. Our produce is available year round thanks to genetic modifications, pesticides, and other unnatural growing processes.

Clothes are different here. Jeans and t-shirts and yoga pants are all anyone wears. Even the high end stores sell the same casual clothes, just at 10 times the price. Kanye will give you a plain white cotton t-shirt for $120, the Gap will give you the same thing for $12.  Lululemon gives you stretchy pants for $100, Target has them for $30.

It didn't used to be like this. My mother's generation hardly ever even wore pants, much less jeans. They set their hair on Sunday night and wore it purposefully styled every day. Even a casual outfit was styled.

Women in New York City come closest to the lost era of style in America and French women, but if you get on the subway you'll still see every assortment of clothing option possible.

As much as I yearn for the days where women dressed I can't say I didn't enjoy going to Target and the grocery store today in my active-wear, with no makeup on and my greasy hair shoved under a baseball cap. Is it possible to have both? Methinks I need another trip to Paris for "research"

how to be a hipster

If you are a dude, wear a boyfriend sweater, a slouchy zip up hoodie, a floppy beanie, don't ever shave or cut your hair or shower. OR, dress like a girl; skinny jeans, shorts with tights underneath, tank top, and Blossom hat.

If you are a girl, pretty much anything that gives you cankles, midriff shirts, overalls with one side unhooked (ala Will Smith circa Fresh Prince and this top model) and anything your mother wore to work in the 90s.

The current trends of hideous fashion - mom jeans, doc martins, large floral prints, overalls - makes me think that millenials are even dumber than we give them credit for. Learn from our mistakes young'uns. We wore hideous fashions so you don't have to. That's the way fashion is supposed to work. You need to find your own hideous fashion choices so your children can know what not to wear.

I think this makes me old... I just want to wear what I want to wear, fashion be damned. Give me my comfy jeans and t-shirts and classic black pants and heels that will never be out of style (or really in style either I guess) and I'll look down my nose at you young people who look ridiculous.

OohLaLa

For those of you who are blissfully unaware of the Tinders - maybe you're married or cohabbing or living under a rock - let me give you a sneak peek into the WTF world of

App Dating

Tinderland, where you look at someones picture(s) and whatever they have chosen to share or not share about themselves (in 500 characters or less) and click the red X for "aww HELL no" or the green heart for ummm maybe yes, but if we get to know each other a bit I still might say "aww HELL no". 

Some of my more scintillating options

If you both select the green heart, you match! Which means you can now message each other! And if they are not what you expected... then you can unmatch from them and they can no longer see your profile or talk to you. 

Recently I matched with a moderately handsome guy Jacques* whose 500 characters or less said

"Made in France. Living in Los Angeles."

 He started chatting with me. Here is an approximation of the conversation:

Jacques: Hi

Jacques: Can I ask you some questions?

Me: Sure!

Jacques: Have you ever been in love?

Me: Yes. Have you?

Jacques: No.  But I hope to.

Me: It can be wonderful. 

Jacques: What makes you unique?

I started to think... wow, these are great questions! Way better than the usual "'sup" or "how are you" or "how's your day been". My interest is definitely piqued!

Me: I'm funny, loyal and a great listener. 

Jacques: I'd like to continue, but this app is a pain. Do you have OhLaLa? It's better for chatting.

Me: I don't even know what that is.  :/

Jacques: Do you have iPhone or Android?

Me: Android. 

About 2-3 minutes go by... nothing. so -

Me: What brought you to LA? Does your family still live in France?

At this point I have email to attend to, so I leave the app for a couple minutes. When I return - 

He is gone. Unmatched. Without a trace. Buh-bye. I mean, if it was so important that I have an iPhone with some mysterious OohLaFancyPantsFrenchChattingApp, he should have specified in his profile. Harumph.

*didn't change his name at all.

Renaissance Romeo

WELCOME TO TINDERLAND

Where unlike Vegas, what happens here gets spread all over the interwebs. 

so Tinderland has some *ahem* unique folk wandering it's fertile grounds, and I was matched with one whose prose was more like poetry. We'll call him "RR" for Renaissance Romeo. Here are just a few delightful excerpts from our tinder-messaging:

"I speak three languages; English, Joy and Appreciation." 

"Appreciation is the fuel by which all relationships thrive and ascend. Find a way to consistently appreciate those who you share heartspace with and it is amazing what occurs."

"Then before your head prepares to caress the pillow, please allow me to say thank You; I appreciate You for writing, being playful and setting off a very sweet spark within. I wish You a peaceful night's rest. " 

I quickly determined I could never date someone who spoke so ridiculously, but also that I needed to meet RR to see if he spoke suchly and thusly in person, or if he was just a regular guy masquerading as a wanna-be Shakepeare. I felt a little deceptive leading him on like that, but inquiring minds wanted to know! And by inquiring minds, I mean me and my friends. ...And by me and my friends, I mean mostly me.

We tinder messaged for a while, then switched to text message, and still his words were more like a sonnet than the usual text abbreviation/shorthand "hyd" (how ya doin) "LMFAO ur funny" "laughing my fucking ass off, you are funny" "ttyl" (talk to you later) that one sometimes gets.

Finally we spoke on the phone, and I was a little disappointed that RR spoke like a regular dude, with the exception of a word here or there. I had gotten to the point that I was really hoping that he would confabulate in iambic pentameter. Alas, he did not. He did, however, finally make good on his tinder profile where he espouses his ability to make people laugh. I legit belly-laughed at least four times. Maybe this guy could be a good match after all...

And then... the other shoe dropped. I have written in my profile that I am looking for  a guy who is 5'11" or taller, and RR asked if that was a deal breaker. It isn't totally, but it kind of is. My "research" into this Tinder-rrific gentleman and what he is like in person had gone this far, so of course I said, "No! I've dated guys shorter than that. I just usually am attracted to taller men." To which he replied, "Well I'm an inch taller than you, I'm 5'8"." The possibility that RR might actually be a keeper poofed away as quickly as it was created. "Oh, well, you're taller than me. I'm sure that's fine!"

We meet for coffee the next day, and not only is RR mistaken about his height (he's maybe 5'7" if he stands up super straight), but the shirtless pic of himself he posted was clearly from when he used to go to the gym. But he is charming, sweet, funny, and I find myself having a great time! And then... I see his hands. His little, tiny, baby-hands. Oh NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! I cannot. I just. CAN. NOT. do baby hands. Little chicklet fingernails and tiny digits that are only good for needlepoint and other small crafts or maybe for making sweatshop clothing. But I am on this coffee date, so I just try to keep my eyes up.

And, oh god, there's more. RR has a daughter. Who is 24. Who is only three years younger than his last girlfriend. Who is like totally Mensa genius level smart. And who supports herself as a semi-nude model. But her modeling is all really tasteful. And he is so proud. Of his semi-nude-model-mensa-daughter.

RR's career is befitting such a Unique dude. He helps people with SOUL EXPANSION. What the fuck is that? I don't know. I would have asked (ya know, "research") but I was fairly certain I would dissolve into a fit of giggles and that's just rude. I'm not sure why I care about that... When he had previously alluded to his job in our phone conversation, I was so thankful we weren't facetiming or skyping, as I had to hold the phone away and stifle laughs when he told me. He's a rambler, so it was fine that I couldn't reply due to stomach spasms. He just talked on and on about how amazing he is.

I genuinely began to regret the resarch-date when RR asked if we could "go deeper." and would I like to "lead the dance" or shall he? *cue another involuntary stomach spasm and herculean effort to keep a straight face* This is when RR began to espouse his "brilliant" thoughts on soul expansion, loving, relationships, etc. I truly learned his love of his own voice and theories at this point, when he rambled on and on for about a half hour or forty-five minutes about who-knows-what *cue glazed eyes and insipid smile* needing no response save open eyes and a heartbeat from his conversation partner.

The next day I was racked with guilt/didn't want to play this game anymore and texted him to "break up".  He tried extensively to convince me that I would grow to love him over time. I had to tell him 8 ways to Sunday that I just wasn't into him, without mentioning his delusions on his height, his incessant ramblings and his teensy-itty-bitty-baby-hands. It was exhausting.

I've only heard from him once since, just to text hello. And if I never hear from RR again it will be

“Double, double, toil and trouble; Fire burn, and cauldron bubble!”

no butts about it

Tinder likes butts and they cannot lie
These pictures can't deny
when a man swipes in with a nudie pic and a butt crack in my face I swipe LEFT. 

because ewww. gross.

I'm no Sir Mix-a-Lot and these guys shouldn't have put it all out there for the interwebs to have until eternity.

Bedbug - er, butt

Muscle butt

You can pick your friends, you can pick your butt, but please don't pick your friend's butts

Sudsy butt

butt selfie

butt ring

Beach Bum!!

Douchery: Part One

Apparently all the cool kids are using Tinder for dating these days, so I thought I would try it next. Because I am nothing if not cool. *quakes with laughter*

I will say I am enjoying the expediency of knocking through the losers and fuglys and the "I couldn't be bothered to write anything for my profile" guys. I can swipe left like nobody's business. But I have to say the number of wierdos I have encountered in less than 24 hours of participation is astounding.

Let's look at a few, shall we? We'll start with some of the milder offenders.

This one isn't particularly offensive, but your main picture is not only of three dudes (which one are you), but they are all masked??? How did Ryan think this would be the best pic to invite someone to swipe right? (or click the green heart, as it were) An easy "NO."

I actually gotta give this guy some credit for originality. It takes something to not only purposely give yourself that tan line but to blast it to the internets/potential mates. *notice I left alone the tribal tattoo and the armband tattoo. I have nothing if not tact. ;)

Do you remember the "hot felon?" Well Christopher decided to entice the ladies with that criminal's mugshot. I went ahead and clicked through to see what he really looked like and let's just say disappointed doesn't even begin to cover it. Don't tease me with sexy hottttness and then you be, uhm, not.

Perhaps he thought that the ladies would swoon over the fact that he is a singer. I am mildly horrified that we have 11 friends in common on facebook.

Ok lovies, that's enough for now... more scandalous pix from the first 24 hours of Tinder coming soon!

back in the saddle. yee-haw.

What does a girl do to get over the ex-boyfriend blues? Reactivates her online dating profile. (largest sigh possible)

...DOUBLE SIGH...

So. It's been one day and two emails from guys I wouldn't even dream of dating have already emailed me! I feel so popular. And as I was scrolling through the pictures of guys using the app's equivalent of "hot or not" --

-- you can swipe through people's pix, rating them on a 1-5 star level. *slides into black hole and disappears for hours*

The thing is, there are so many fugly people that the average ones start to look not so bad. It is kind of the same effect as beer goggles except you're home alone, sober, swiping at your phone.

So how does one meet guys these days? I don't want to spend every weekend at the bar. You spend way too much money, get a beer belly, and lose half of the next morning to a hangover. I don't love dating online - you have to sift through all the ones that you are not compatible with/not attracted to/are only looking for sex/have mommy issues/etc.  And even once you find one or two dudes that you might deign spend time with, most of the time the spark just isn't there. The older I get, the more my dating pool dries to a puddle.

Anybody have any attractive, available, sane guy friends? That make me laugh? That are at least 5'11"?That have a good job/business, are interested in getting married, don't have kids, don't have any weird hangups, likes my cats, likes to travel, can cook, has friends, and might want to take me out????? Kthx.