And I Wonder Why I'm Single

Tonight I had a First Phone Call with a guy I met on Plenty of Fish. In the course of this 30 minute or so call, I subconsciously did several things that, upon retrospection, don't really scream, "This chick is a keeper!"

- I started the conversation with a sports question. This I blame on nerves - he was watching a baseball game earlier and I was grasping for a topic. However, I failed to steer the topic away from sports and instead opined at length about My Favorite Local Sports Team which, I should add, is a rival of His Team. I can only suppose this may place me in "one of the guys (who pulls for the wrong team)" territory.

- Though he knew I'd been baking all night, I failed to use this as an opportunity to extol the virtues of my buttercream or emphasize my domestic goddess status and take-me-home-to-momma qualities. Every smart girl knows that men's hearts and stomachs are truly linked, but we Southern girls are trained to home in on this weakness. Fail #2.

- I complained about my job and how little money I make. Yeah, I tried to joke about it, but it's just not a smart topic of conversation. What's next, how I've been constipated the past few days?

- As I pulled into the driveway of my house, I exclaimed, "Oh, Dad's still up! I should probably go say good night." He already knew I live at home, and I was kinda looking for a way to end the call. But still, it cant feel good to be met with the equivalent of "No, dude, I can't talk to you anymore because DADDY!"

- I had a conversation with my cat. Okay, really I just said, "hi, sweet man." But I said it with the phone to my ear and in mid-conversation. When dude said, "huh," I said, "Oh, just talking to my cat." I think that to most of the US's male population, that translates to something like "SCARY WEIRD FREAKSHOW RUUUUN!" But I could be wrong. Still, Kitty and I are a package deal, as The Girl Next Door likes to remind me. But hey, she's a crazy cat lady, too.

So, upon further reflection, maybe my subconscious is telling me that I am not or should not be into this guy. Any amateur psychoanalysts care to translate?

HAPPY DATING!!

I Can't Make You Love Me If You Don't

A few months ago my long-term boyfriend and I split because I decided to move to a different state for a job. He's the best man you could ever ask for and my heart still hurts when I think about the decision. Ever notice how when you first break your heart, it's this intense, all-consuming sort of emotional pain? I'm from Wisconsin and like most solid Mid-Westerners, we swallow our emotions well. Maybe I'm just actually emotionally delayed, but lately the heart break is this constant ache that wasn't there a few months ago. Music has been a huge solace and this video I found today has been on repeat all day. Bon Iver is a good Wisconsin boy so I have extra love for him.

Giveaway Winner!

CONGRATULATIONS to Heather Rose, the winner of our audiobook giveaway!
One of your lovely DIW-ers will be in touch with you to get more info so that Macmillan can put things in the mail.
Thanks for all of you who commented and to Macmillan for this chance!

Captain Obvious

I am happy to say that I am seeing a card-carrying member of the Human Race now. New One and I went to the Apple Store last night and bought a computer for him. That's not what this is about, though. This is about the unwelcome drunk texts I got from a previous fling-guy this past weekend.


(FRIDAY/SATURDAY 2:00 A.M.)

HIM: Are U in?

ME: Functionally asleep. Goodnight. Been lights-out for almost an hour now.

HIM: What floor are you on again?

ME: Shuddap.

HIM: But I am in the elevator.

ME: You have a home to go to don't be weird like this.

HIM: The only weird part is that you don't want to f#ck me.

Me: You're being really weird now and by weird I mean illegal.

HIM: Okay, if U say so.


(SATURDAY/SUNDAY 2:10 A.M.)

HIM: Hi. Sex? I like it :)


(MONDAY, 6:09 P.M.)

HIM: Sorry about Saturday. I was drunk which is never an excuse! Sorry!


This evening New One and I are going to dinner and a movie. My phone will be turned off at night from now on.

How Not to "Do the Online Thing"

There's been a lot of talk lately about online dating and what to do and how to meet the love of your life. Recently on Jezebel, they ran a piece about how to set up the perfect online dating profile (http://jezebel.com/5825950/how-to-set-up-the-perfect-online-dating-profile). Jezebel, y'all. They know their shit. And for the most part, I completely agree with what they said. As someone who's becoming old news on the online dating scene, allow me to add some more of my personal observations as to Dos and Don'ts when it comes to your profile. Admittedly, they're mostly Don'ts.

- DO have at least one profile picture that was not taken with a shitty cell phone camera.

- DON'T put up a picture of you and another person of the same sex and fail to differentiate as to which is you. Especially if that's your only picture. Granted, you're probably the ugly one.

- DON'T put up photos of yourself clad head to toe in your alma mater's or favorite sports team's gear. Two reasons: 1) Okay, super fan. Appreciation and commitment are great. But if your best picture was taken while you were drunk at a football game, that's not a good sign. 2) You immediately cross out anyone who hates your school. I once found a really cute guy who was a huge Buckeyes fan. He didn't even get a wink.

- DON'T put up pictures of yourself with children if you don't have children. If you feel that you must, please make it very clear that it's your niece/nephew/best friend's kid/latest kidnap victim.

- DON'T, for goodness' sake, put up a "mirror picture." This especially holds true for you, gentlemen. Not notorious for the cleanliness of your bathrooms, you don't always put out the "take me home to momma" vibe when you scare us away from YOUR home before we've even met.

- DO use proper grammar and real words. Text speak or whatever the young folks are calling it now does not convey that you are a real, grown-up person who knows words and grammar. Once you get to chatting, relax the comma usage a bit, sure. First impressions still count, though.

- DO realize that some things that mean a lot to you are really divisive (see: sports fandom, religion). Sure, talk about how much you love Jesus, but only if you're willing to let Jesus turn away some prospective dates for you.

Okay, so that's just a few things for now. This may have to be an ongoing series...

Happy Dating!

How to Wither an Important Appendage

***GUEST POST!***

Here's another post from Jorge, one of our few, but much loved, male readers. It contains some f-bombs, unabashed judgment, and failed physical contact - these are a few of our favorite things.

How to Wither an Important Appendage

This is less a story of a date than one that makes me lose faith that I will ever meet the girl of my dreams while horribly intoxicated, as I have always expected I would.

One night recently, at about 3 am, I found myself with one of my friends, terribly inebriated after spending some time at a bar. Big goddamned surprise. I had spent the eve watching an incredibly attractive girl, who had come to the bar with another friend, totally mindfuck all kinds of dudes who, it appeared, unequivocally spend very little time conversing with anything over, say, a 4.

I quickly came to realize that, besides being a colossal cocktease, this girl was also very fucking stupid, and an unparalleled belligerent drunk.

Later, I learned, she was just terribly fucking afflicted with aspergers. Which caused me to retract about 70% of the loathing.

Anyways, around 3 am, friend 1 and I, in our drunken state, decided that ordering a 26" pizza was a great idea.

Friend 2 managed to find his way back over, while also managing to leave Aspergers at home. At some point, friend 2 received a phone call from some girl demanding sex or something. She also happened to have a friend who was apparently desperate to make out with someone.

While friend 1 and I were intrigued, friend 2 most certainly was not. He was certain that this girl would want to go home with him, which obviously wouldn't work, because Aspergers was there, and would do God knows what, should he stumble home with another female. Probably something extra belligerent. And understandable.

So they arrived, and the girl with a rather large chest, who also happened to be the one apparently jonesing for a make out, began shamelessly comparing her much larger tits to her friends much smaller ones. And not so casually inviting her friend to cuddle with her, apparently thinking that some girl-on-girl cuddling would cause our loins to burn with desire.

Every girl I met tonight seemed fucking stupid. I texted friend 1, "These girls are fucking stupid." He didn't notice. He was too busy using our tiny Asian friend as a cockblock. I was tired/passing out. Friend 1 and tiny Asian were tired/passing out. Friend 2 was pretending to be tired, and pretending to pass out. These 2 dumbshit girls were on a mission. So outside on the balcony they went to smoke, along with friend 2. To the couch I went, with a blanket.

A short time later, Miss Desperation comes in. I'm half asleep, and not terribly coherent. She says, "Hey, can you come here and help me with something?"

"Curious," I thought. "Very fucking curious."

So I stumbled up, and followed her towards a bedroom, where I was then lead to a bed, and then promptly pounced upon by a girl who, it seemed, was intent upon chewing my face off. Or licking it off. Or stirring up some imagined concoction in my mouth with her tongue. I came to the conclusion in about 14 seconds that either: A) I was somewhere around the 3rd person she had ever kissed, or B) she had never kissed anyone more than once.

I felt like I was being mauled and clawed by a feral dog. In addition to this, my face was forcibly shoved, at least, but not limited to, 4 times into her mountainous expanse of chest, to the point of near suffocation.

I have no idea what her name was. At one point, after a few minutes, she said "Oh, I probably can only stay for like, 5 more minutes," to which I responded "Oh." Which was the first, and also second to last thing that I said during the entire ordeal. The last was, "Okay," after "I have to go now...goodnight."

It's been at least 3 years since I kissed someone that made me contemplate never participating in that activity ever again. I vow, if ever I find myself in an "am I kissing a sloppy joe with teeth?" scenario, I-don't-know-her-name may be somewhat shocked when I stop the whole thing in mid-misery and say, "Enough. My penis has withered, and I don't even think someone spending life in prison could possibly enjoy this."

And I guess it shouldn't be a big goddamned surprise when I get punched right in the withered penis.

I guess my message is this: cup size is but a trifle when coupled with desperate snake tongue. Or something like that.

- Jorge

omgnoparentsnorules.blogspot.com

A Day in the Life of DIW

In case you were wondering, yes, we all have our Dear Serial days.

frenchie: hi honeybun

serial: whaddup dollface??

frenchie: oh, nothing

i was going to get some advice on how to not respond to the boy

i just.... ugh. feel awful just flipping the ignore switch

serial: You already dumped him.

frenchie: i know!

and i think he's trying to worm his way back in or something?

i think he thinks it's working

serial: Poor guy.

frenchie: i know

serial: The only way to take the plunge is to stop replying completely

I mean, I wouldn't suggest that

if it weren't clear he's delusional

I've had more than one guy I dated for awhile

broke it off with

and then texted back and forth a little bit

Like, he'd send a friendly

thing and i'd reply nicely

made it easier when I ran into him on the street

frenchie: yeah...

serial: but his courtesy has run its course.

No mas.

frenchie: maybe he's not delusional? i dunno.
he just seems way too caring

i don't like it

serial: I feel like I'm missing something

why wouldn't you ignore him?

Because it'll hurt his feelings?

frenchie: because he's nice and he means well

yeah

it would be a weird blow to him for me just not to answer

serial: Well then you could always lie to him

Ignore him for a week

then say

"Sorry I haven't been replying, just really busy"

then ignore him for two

(or, you know, baby steps)

frenchie: hmm. that could work

serial: He'll know you're lying

but that's OK

It eases the blow of being ignored a bit

But when you say

"sorry I haven't been replying"

and he replies to that

you must NOT RESPOND

frenchie: ahhhh

true

serial: even to direct questioning

frenchie: i see

serial: That's my advice

frenchie: i kinda want to say "you give me both the heebies and the jeebies now. please go away"

GIVEAWAY!!

Dearest DIWers -

We have the opportunity to do something that we've never done before, and it's pretty cool. Though your editors are hot and sexy, we're also pretty nerdy, and we have a thing for books, including audiobooks. That's why we're pumped to offer a very cool giveaway - an audiobook of 40 Love by Madeleine Wickham (who wrote the Shopaholic series under the name Sophie Kinsella). This book has been described as a hilarious and perceptive skewering of the shallow rich. We think it looks like great hot weather listening.

To enter, just comment on this post by Wednesday, August 17, 2011 and include a way for us to get in touch with you if you win (even if it's just your email address in the posting information).

Make sure you get in on this giveaway - such an easy way to get a great audiobook from one of the hottest authors out there.

Thanks to Macmillan Audio for this opportunity!

Every Single One, Every Single Time

Dear Men,

So... the moment was right and we're getting it on. Somewhere in between the thought and the completion of the act ALWAYS comes the mandatory male statement: "I AM GOING TO CUM" ...and I am confused every single time it is said. By every single guy that I have ever been with.

Of course you are. This is obvious. It is, in fact, the reason that most of you get into this situation in the first place. Are we supposed to say something in return? It really interrupts the mood and totally turns me off, actually. Where on earth did this ritual begin and how did it spread to ALL of the men I've ever been with?

Get this right: I am very supportive of you completing the act, and I highly recommend it. It's just a question of WHY every single one of you uses the exact same phrase.

Please Explain,
Slightly Disheveled