Turn Offs

1. You have roommates.

Exceptions -
a) Your brother/best friend is crashing on your couch for a very short period of time. Very short. Help him get it together.
b) You refer to your tenant as a roommate to be nice. But we know what's really up. He pays you rent and you pay your mortage.
c) You're 22 and finding your way.
d) You're saving money to get your own place.

2. Your best friend is a straight girl. Suspicious.

3. You ask me out by way of text. Gross. Go away.

4. You have bad credit. Get it together. Gross.

5. You bum cigarettes.
I could never seriously date a smoker. I've casually dated casual smokers. Watching a guy bum a cigarette is so emasculating. I can't explain it. It just is. Buy your own cigarettes on your own time. Stock up at Cosco if you have to. If you're going to smoke try and channel Paul.

6. You have a Reservoir Dogs poster up on your wall.

7. You call weed "grass".

8. You call condoms "rubbers". No thanks, Grandpa.

9. You don't vote.

10. You put down people who have a lot of money. You're insecure and obvious. Work harder.

I made eye contact with some guy at Spaceland

I am a sad, sad little woman. I can't believe I'm actually going to devote a blog entry to how I made eye contact with some dude. I didn't sleep with, make out with or even talk to this guy. JUST eye contact. The Huffington Post certainly isn't going to be calling my ass up anytime soon but maybe you'll keep reading and I guess that's enough. (Photo is an example of how my evening did not end.)

I have come to understand that for some girls making eye contact with a guy they find attractive comes very easily. Well, that is a very nice thing for those girls. This particular girl finds it very difficult. So, in an effort to be more alluring or for starters just plain fucking approachable I have decided to play a game with myself. I call it, "Make Eye Contact with a Guy Like a Normal Human Being". Here's what I have to do: Make subtle repeated eye contact with one attractive fellow over the course of an evening and see what happens. Also, I'm not allowed to be creepy.

I do that thing we all do where you scan a room and decide what person of the opposite sex you would make babies with if you were the last two people on earth. I'm pretty sure I've been doing this since the first day of kindergarten. As I was scanning the dusty interior of Spaceland I thought I recognized some guy I hooked up with once when I was sloppy, yucky, gross drunk. YIKES. Luckily it wasn't him, it was just a guy who looked like him. He wasn't as cute as the guy I hooked up with but he was the best thing Spaceland had going for it. I spotted some other guy who was handsome, put together and probably in his 40s. I aborted mission once I saw he was wearing a wedding ring. His wife put it there to make me feel bad. Not cute.

I decided to stand by the bar where my options were best laid out. After graciously giving every guy at Spaceland the opportunity to sweep me off of my feet I decided that I should pick the guy I found most attractive-slash-interesting to me. He was sitting at a pub table off to the side of the stage drinking a beer. I stared at him in short increments before he noticed me. Then when he did notice me, I looked away. REPEAT, REPEAT, REPEAT. We made eye contact a few different times. Each time lasted slightly, just slightly longer. This was working out just great for me. I was actually doing it. I was being all bold and shit. I deserved a steak for what was transpiring. Here's how I decided my exercise was successful. I caught him looking at me when I wasn't looking at him! BUSTED! Anywhichway, he was with a girl. They didn't look like they were too involved. If I had to bet they were probably on a second date. I couldn't possibly expect him to come over and ask me out. He was already out. He's a good guy. He probably likes good music and flea markets same as me. WHAT WE DO KNOW: He likes Neil Hamburger just like me. He took some girl to see Neil Hamburger and I hope she appreciated the gesture.

This Is How I Do

This blog is not for you, it's for me. I will never tell you who I am. (Unless you happen to be a really hot, funny guy with good credit who is turned on by my unabashed candidness. Extra points if you're a non-practicing Jew. Email me. We'll figure something out.) This blog is a chronicle of all the dating situations I have ever found myself in. Some are funny, some are heart-breaking and some are boring and probably not worth telling. I'm keeping this shit honest and anonymous. Here's your first nugget - I mostly date guys I meet on the internet. I'm painfully shy and mostly retarded when it comes to meeting guys in every day normal people situations. I never go after the guy I want for fear of rejection. I don't make eye contact and if I do and an exchange is the result, I'm horrible at flirting or showing interest that would yield a how do you say, "asking out". I have done a beautiful job of making myself unapproachable. Okay, so maybe I'm not a total degenerate. But I'm not that far off. I'm exaggerating my situation so that you get a sense of how drastic I feel my condition is. This is important to me! Ladies and Gentlemen, WE HAVE A CRISIS ON OUR HANDS!

WARNING: If you decide to follow my blog and one day it's not here, I'm sorry. Here is what has happened - I have met the love of my life, we are eloping in Paris, we've made plans to have beautiful babies and this dinky blog is not going to jeopardize my beautiful life with my beautiful husband from the future. I can not have him knowing about my creature-like ways should he accidently stumble upon this.