Playing House

I was talking to my friend Mark recently and he asked me about my dating situation. This is always (never) a fun question. I'm always "seeing" someone, and then I get bored and then we have The Conversation. This usually comes after they feel like I've really let them in, like they could really get to know me - but that's not true! I'm just an oversharer!

I don't like sleeping (and I do mean sleeping) with people that I'm not into, I don't like cuddling. Your body's warmth is making me hot, and I'm totally fine over here.

Remember, I like making out with strangers and then never talking to them again. The whole relationship thing leads to The Crazy (also found here and here) and finding someone worth risking that for is uncommon. I have an alternative to all of this I like to refer to as Playing House.

It includes all the benefits of a relationship,without any of the consequences because you don't spend enough time together to actually develop real feelings. It only lasts a couple days, or a long weekend, sporadically throughout the year. These "relationships" can be wherever with whomever, but they cannot happen with someone that lives in your city. My favorites of these have includes, The Annapolis Lover, The Russian and West Coast Paul.

You go out as though you are a couple, you might even hold hands. You have breakfast, you go shopping, you discuss things as though you are in a committed relationship, but you're not. You or him, get to go home, back to your single life where you can have the whole bed to yourself and not be irritated by anyone's inability to squeeze toothpaste from the bottom of the tube or leave dirty dishes on the counter (really dudes, why are these things so hard?).

This may sound slightly screwy to some of you, but you probably haven't tried it, or are one of those really obnoxious people that are always in relationships. I would like to spend this decade of my life moving frequently and without reason to stay in any one place, for me, this works.

Hanging Out

I enjoy hanging out with friends. We go to movies, or to each others' houses or with the advent of my birthday, we mostly wobble around from bar to bar. We are those annoying "early twenty something" girls that you probably hate. But that's my interpretation of the phrase "hanging out."

This is not everyone else' interpretation. Or perhaps it's just Richmond's interpretation is different, I really don't know. I don't know slang, and I'm not a passive communicator, I say exactly what I mean. The end.

I had been out on a few dates with a particular guy in town, and that fizzled, or at least it did for me. I told him one night while we were sitting in my car that I didn't think we were romantically compatible. He didn't like this response, and went on to ask me why I would join a dating service if I wasn't looking for a relationship. This seems silly to me, the implication here, at least what I gathered, was that he thought I was looking for something instant - that I was looking to jump into something quickly. I wasn't, and I'm not. Actually, let me rephrase that, I'm not looking to jump into anything with anyone that I don't have that immediate connection with. It's not "love at first sight," it's more something at first glance. It's a lingering feeling, connection that isn't forced, it just is.

Though, I did enjoy the time we spent together, the chemistry just wasn't there. He explained that he "didn't need anymore friends" which is fine, but rude to say. And I told him that I was looking more to meet people than for a long-term relationship; if something didn't work out, well then at least I'd met someone new and hopefully someone that would still be interested in knowing me.

He leaned in and "whispered I'm going to make this hard for you" and kissed me. Like that was supposed to change my mind or something. It didn't. He got out of my car and I went home.

The following weekend he sent me a series of passive aggressive text messages, though when I finally confronted him about it he claimed that I just didn't "get his sense of humor, yet." This combined with condescending statements regarding how I interact with people and that I need to be "socialized" - whatever that means - didn't exactly help his case. So when he called me a week later at two in the morning and asked if I was "hanging out" I wasn't sure what he was talking about.

I had gathered that he thought I was interested in his friend, not true, and thought he was asking about his friend. His friend and I had been "hanging out" in my sense of the phrase, platonically. He went on, "No, are we hanging out?"

I think we use that term differently, you mean are we dating? No. I thought I explained this to you last week.

"No, we made out in your car."

No, you kissed me, there was no making out.

"So, we're not hanging out?

No. I am not interested in pursuing a romantic relationship with you. I'm sorry.

"Oh, well, bye."

This was followed by him tweeting about "realtalk" and then blocking me on Twitter. Real mature.

Let's be clear though, I had been seeing him less than a month, and we had never had a DTR (define the relationship talk), so I wasn't leading him on. I've been out with lots of people and met lots of people and generally putting myself in new environments in which I can meet new people. I'm not "hanging out," I'm hanging out and I prefer it that way.

Faking It Pt. 2 (wherein I overshare)

(If you're Mormon and/or related to me, you may not want to read this, just a heads up.)

I spend way too much time with my sister, April. She's a stay at home mom and they have the internet and netflix, and more food than I do, and the cutest kid ever - all of which are reasons to go there. But because she stays at home, she also enjoys (or pretends to) my stories of being single and stupid and doing very stupid things, especially concerning the opposite sex and/or booze.

April and I are fundamenally very different, she is conservative and wears muted colors, and I am very liberal and prefer bold colored everything. She also has all these rules, rules about life and dating like, "don't bake for him until he's bought you three dinners" and "no telling him what he would look better in before five dates" - the list goes on and she's more than happy to enlighten me whenever something goes wrong.

She thinks that I have terrible taste in men, "he's ugly/fat/old/etc." followed by "and he's just not that into you" are frequent things she vocalizes. And she makes no effort to remember anyone's name "until she meets them." So all the guys I date are worthless phantoms because I can't seem to have a normal dating life, but I'm really good at the non-relationship. These are relationships that aren't defined, he is not my boyfriend, I am not his girlfriend, and usually one or both of us are projecting our feelings for an ex on to the other person.

Well I was seeing this guy for just under two months, given things moved really fast, but he was the one that said "we" first. I don't do that - because then I end up being that crazy girl who wants things to move to fast, so I wait and see. I'm really good at this. I also don't hold hands in public, or kiss, or generally behave as though I'm dating someone unless you know, it seems like a sure thing.

This guy in particular said "we" first at a concert we went to. We were talking to a friend of mine who DJs and happened to be djing the following weekend and Boy looked at me and asked if "we" would be going. I had been planning to go as I do most months, but I had planned on crashing at a friend's place. I explained that I was sure my friends probably wouldn't mind putting him up to with which he responded, "Oh, we'll just get a hotel." What? Right, because that's something that people that have been dating less than a month do without the intention of being in a relationship. Sure, it could translate into "I just want to fuck you in a hotel" but come on, you don't have to go to another city to do that. It was the night before going back to DC that we had the "I'm not interested in seeing anyone else, but I don't want to rush into another longterm relationship" talk. Story of my life.

We go to DC, we have a great time, we continue to see each other, we do coupley things, we go to a few shows, and then when we're on our way to a movie he says, "I woudln't care if you slept with other people..." "Really?" "Yeah, it's not like we're in a relationship..." "You're right, we're not." We're just spending several nights a week at each other's places and people are starting to regard us as a couple, but yeah, we're totally not in a relationship.

Things fizzled, that's fine. He didn't want a relationship. Whatever. I can deal. Then my birthday happened, and he slept through it because he had been "working a lot..." So I drunkenly sauntered over to his house and woke him up at 1:30 am. There were tears involved and I think I may have shouted something along the lines of "I want to be in love!" Because I am melodramatic and generally impulsive.

He did take me out the following week and we had a lovely, if not slightly awkward time. But I am not the type that just stops caring about people. I've never understood how people just stop talking to their exes, and he's not even a real ex, an ex-lover? That sounds cheap. Anyway, I'm usually pretty good at staying friends with people, even Mr. Potato Head and I managed to get back to being friends.

Everything was fine until last week. I'm not sure exactly what happened, but I've been struggling with money, school, the move, really just life this past month and went out every single night for two weeks in an effort to escape it, because that's healthy. Last week I was out with some girlfriends and I wanted to go sing kareoke, and with no obligations the next day we saw it fit to drink in excess (cue Four Loko). As I was walking up I ran into his roommate who told me that he was there, which was fine, except he was there with a girl, which also would have been fine had he given me a heads up.

We had talked two days prior and I had told him about my joining OkCupid and the dates I had been on, he didn't say anything. So walking up and being told and then seeing what was happening was like a punch in the face. I managed to keep my cool-ish - I spent a lot of time smoking other people's cigarettes and pacing up and down the block while my friend went inside and made new friends. But what's worse is that he did introduce us, and later I put two and two together and she dated one of those OkCupid guys I went out with. It's incredible how small this city is.

I went home that night and didn't sleep. That was followed by days of not sleeping or eating, and the knot in my stomach just got bigger and eating became near impossible. The amount of anxiety I experience in five days was more than I think I've ever experienced. It all culminated over the weekend with a series of panic attacks, passive aggressive tweets (that I later deleted) and vomiting in my friend's toilet Saturday night. Sunday was spent in a daze of trying to get things accomplished and attempting sleep, but turned into another panic attack on Sunday that ended in my friend's living room with a xanax in one hand and a bowl in the other. If nothing else, the munchies got me eating.

Monday I went to April's and she pointed out how terrible I looked, I hadn't spent more than ten hours in the previous four days in my apartment, and was still wearing Friday's clothes. Classy. Gross.

I'm not sure why, or how these things affect me the way they do, but they do and there's not a whole lot I can do about it. He has no idea (though he might read this, probably not). I even cut his hair and had him repay me in the form of liqour, and with the exception of a few awkward moments, it was mostly fine. Fine is what it has to be, because I'm not going to stay in to avoid uncomfortable situations, they happen, and I put on a happy face and deal. It's all I can do.

I've never had to deal with this situation before, I've always remained friends, or at least friendly with my exes. I know I'm going to run into them, and just because we're not together doesn't mean that you stop caring, and if I care about anyone in the least I usually make a point to say hello. It just sucks when you realize that you were someone's rebound, and that it's not that they didn't want a relationship, they just didn't want it with you. Even after all the "signs" and words, and all the little things, they're okay not talking to you and they aren't ever going to suggest hanging out, or grabbing lunch or drinks. All of that is fine, because thankgod, you aren't pregnant, and you can move on to the strangers on the internet that think you're "sexxi" and put on a happy face.

What's up?

I hate that text message.

This is the text message that guys send when they're too chicken to call and/or are looking to get laid. It depends on the time of day, but no matter what time of day it is, it is a useless message. They don't care "what's up" they aren't interested in the fact that you are getting ready for work or class or bed. This is fine though because if they are sending you this particular message, they are bored and probably not worth spending time with anyway.

This is not the text message of a person that has a ton going for them. They probably aren't pursuing any hobbies, is probably not the most emotionally healthy person, and lacks the confidence to carry on an interesting conversation. Was that harsh? Perhaps. But I'm being honest.

If you do happen to respond to this message it will lead nowhere. It'll probably result in the following:

"Nothing much, just doing (insert mundane task here)."
"Sounds like more fun than I'm having (insert emoticon)."
"What's up with you?"
"(Insert some activity that you have absolutely no interest in.)"

This will go on until you, the recipient of the original text suggest that you hang out, because they don't have the chutzpa to ask you out on a date or at the very least instigate hanging out.

If he were actually interested in seeing you or how your life is going you would receive something more thoughtful. Perhaps a "How is your day going?" Or a "What are you doing later?" Or maybe something witty and related to whatever they're doing, i.e. "Did you read (whatever) on BBC today? Sending you the link now." Or "We fucking owned that shit. (insert sports team they love) 297397, (other team) 0." You get the gist.

"What's up?" is quite possibly the lowest form of communication. It's probably a template message by some mobile carriers. It requires no thought. Sure he texted you, but the likelihood of him texting several other people the vague, impersonal message is likely. It's an effort to make his evening slightly better.

And if you are one of those sad souls who sends that text message, please stop. Do something. Anything. Just don't be so lazy. This isn't even a romance thing, it's a being-a-decent-person thing. And decent people keep in touch with people, and ask those people questions and call them or email them about their lives, if those are people that they want to be in their lives.

"What's up?" is not a complete sentence, there's not even a subject!

While I understand that we live in a world of instance and brevity, if someone is worth staying in touch with they are worth asking real questions, and hopefully they think enough of you to do you the same courtesy.

Baking Slut

A few weeks ago I was asked to fill out a survey for Hipster Wife Hunting, a blog out of New York that my friend Jessica contributes to. I am pin-up #37. And the last sentence in my self-description should read "I'm really goofy."

My sister April doesn't read my blog, and probably won't read my hipster wife description, but if she did she make note of my comment in regards to baking. You see, she thinks that I'm a "baking slut" because I "give it away for free" because apparently it isn't appropriate to bake things for boys before they "take you on and pay for three dates." She is full of all kind of wisdom like this. But my baking sluttiness is something more, it's a direct result of my "inner Mormon" - you see this is something that we all suffer from. We spent years baking things for people who were, like we are now, inactive members of the church in an effort to them how much we cared for and miss them. I know that this is complete horseshit though. I was always confused about why I would bother putting so much effort into something where we would inevitably be considered very strange by whomever we were delivering these baked goods too.

Imagine for a moment taking someone a plate of cookies that has not been to church, or whatever organization, in years. Then seeing them at school. You don't say anything because you don't know them. You just happened to see them the evening before because you and a group of other young girls have been encouraged to make her feel welcome, like a part of this group that she is not interested in being a part of, by giving her baked goods.

Then there were all those times when we baked for the missionaries, and the boys our age who were busy whittling or building a fire or learning about the importance of having gainful employment as to support your wife and 2984793 kids one day. We, the girls were practicing for the roles we would one day have as mothers - baking cookies for every occasion.

As teenagers, and then in college, Mormon girls will commonly bake things for the object of their affection. And he, unless he likes her back, will think she's insane. BAKING! FOR SOMEONE SHE HARDLY KNOWS! (Save for that one awkward dance together at the church sponsored dance a month ago.) Okay, I'm generalizing, but there are chicks that do this. I knew one who knitted a boy a scarf, it was really wide and not very long and I never saw him wear it. Nor did I ever see them interact. But it was fine, she moved on and was making stuff for someone else in the following weeks.

I don't typically just bake people stuff. I do enjoy baking and cooking, but I usually save the baking for thank-yous and birthdays. So, even if I did get three dinners paid for, there's still no guarantee. The term baking slut only came into play this summer because I knew so many people with birthdays during a couple of weeks and I made all of them a cake - and most of them happened to be dudes, and apparently it doesn't matter because baking a cake for a male friend somehow sends the wrong message? I disagree.

Sometimes, I even invite friends over and make dinner. And then we discuss the rationale behind the way all these people in our lives think. And sometimes, I even send friends home with leftovers.

Slut? Yeah, that's right.

No Babies

Sometimes I'm not the one sending drunk text messages.

Him: When I'm 30 will you have my kid?
Me: What?
Me: No!
Him: Why not?
Me: Because I'll be 24?
Him: So?
Me: And I probably won't want kids then...

But really, this guy would actually probably be down with the Sunday-Dinner-Daddy situation.

A different conversation:

Him: Are you pregnant?
Me: No.
Him: Are you sure?
Me: Yes.
Him: You're kind of religious, right?
Me: Not really...
Him: Well if you were pregnant...
Me: Dude, I'm 20...

I'm not going to write out the rest of that conversation. 1) My mom would cry. 2) I have no reason to believe that I am, or soon will be with child.

Dudes are so weird sometimes.

Also, baby related - my sister's due date was this paste Monday. The baby is still in her belly. And I spent last Wednesday with my 6 year old nephew, who is great, but I am so down with not having one of those for a very long time.

I should really consider decreasing the frequency at which I listen to Brit-pop.

As far as the opposite sex goes, I am terrible. This year has been one fiasco after another. It seems that I am excellent at finding out that dudes are in relationships, too late. Ugh. Later I think to myself, why didn't I ask? Because I shouldn't have to ask. Because if someone is in a happy relationship they will rub it in your face. They will make it known to everyone. They will wear it on their sleeve, because they will be proud and feel lucky to have found someone that cares enough to share their life with them in the same capacity they are interested in being in that person's life.

And the more I become acquainted with the opposite sex, the more I realize that they are all perpetually seventeen with major mommy issues, but idolize their daddies (despite their fathers' obvious flaws that they themselves have inherited). Or, they are the opposite - Mama's Boys. I deal better with mommy issues than mama's boys as the former is not looking for someone to replace their mother.

Their personality traits aren't the only things they have in common, no, I like guys that have the same name, or better yet the same birthday as previous boys. It started with the Spencers and has just snowballed since I was fifteen. Davids, Billys, Pauls, - though I have found that all my friends named Mark (none of whom I have been involved with romantically) are much better people than the others. I currently have three very good male friends named Mark. Perhaps I should date a Mark.

Anyway, my older women friends have given me no hope.

I once told my aunt that I would almost prefer a Sunday-dinner-daddy to a husband, and she told me I was on to something. I was joking, sort of. The Sunday-dinner-daddy is a dude whom I would be good friends with, who would be down with having a kid with me, but never getting married. The kid(s) would live in an apartment and we would each live in our own apartments and do a week on and a week off and have Sunday dinners together. It's not like people don't do this already, I mean, half of married couples end up getting divorce anyway, and why not save some grief and allow the children to think that this completely fucked up situation is normal? I mean, there would be no fighting, no parent worrying about the other's infidelity - you have to admit, as cynical as it may seem this idea has potential!

Especially after hearing about a dude's harem fantasy - a house with oh, maybe, three women all of whom are faithful only to him. I had to inform him that that's called polygamy, and if you're into the Fundamentalist Mormon church or Muslim, you are welcome to practice it. I then shared how ideal that would be for anyone, but let's be realistic, humans just don't function that way.

I used to be an absolutist regarding fidelity. I used to feel that if someone was cheating that the relationship should be over - the end. And then I grew up and realized that there is so much more to a relationship, and that if someone were to cheat on me, after punching them in the face, I would want to know why. And what's worse, is that I probably wouldn't care so much about the cheating as I would the lying. I would just want them to communicate in a healthy way with me. Unfortunately, I think that whole idea of communication is dying. No one wants to talk anymore, no one cares to make plans more than an hour in advance that could possibly lead to speaking in person - not skype, not texting, not emailing.

I'm a terrible romantic attempting to be a pragmatist. And I like writing letters and postcards, and if I must the longest emails you will ever read.

I need to move to Stokholm, and soon.

Dear Universe,

I would really appreciate it if you would quit teasing me. I mean, I'm a social person, I put myself out there. I mean, I put out. And I am fully capable of meeting the following type of boy:

Boys in cities other than the one that I live in
Boys in relationships
Boys that travel constantly
Boys that live with their parents
Boys that don't have cars
Boys that don't have jobs
Boys that like boys

But I would like to meet someone with the following:

A car, job and a home not shared with any family members. It's a plus if he lives by himself. One that has a job, but doesn't travel every other week. And a boy that is not at all involved with anyone else. AND LIVES IN RICHMOND. And one that likes girls and only girls - fine if he had that one experience freshman year, but he should have it all out of his system.

I know that seems like an impossible list, but surely there has to be someone like that in this godforsaken city. I mean, really. I didn't even get to physical preferences ( 6'+, not blond hair, and it would be nice if all of my clothing was too small for him). And it would be nice if her were into music, has some athletic ability, and bathes on a regular basis. If he enjoys bourbon, red wine and watching bad tv that would be nice too. I also like dudes who look good in jeans and suits and know when it is appropriate to kiss in public.




But above all, the single-straight-in-Richmond part it the most important. And maybe that bit about kissing. I'm usually against PDA, but I had a poster of "Kissing the War Goodbye" on my wall at my parent's house in high school. And I fell asleep wishing to be that nurse a lot of nights, and it's all so horribly pathetic and romantic, and I have been kissed like that exactly once. I want it to happen again.

Sincerely,

Amanda Jewell Pittman


P.S. If this means I have to stop kissing in general for awhile, I could do that. I need to learn self-control anyway.

An Explanation

Part One:

This morning at brunch some friends and I were discussing the feel of DC, in that it can be as big or small as you want it to be. This is one of the best things about the city, and the worst. It has everything a big city offers, but if you run in certain circles, it becomes very, very small.

Friend and I (in unison): I hate that!

Grumpy: Yes, but you (pointing to friend) don't have to deal with that as much as she (me) does.

(pause)

Grumpy and I (in unison): YOU/I DON'T EVEN LIVE HERE!

Part Two:

Let me relay to you a brief synopsis of the movie An Education:

Girl randomly meets some dude who is twice her age during her senior year of high school. He befriends her. Then woos her. They spend a few months supposedly in love, at least she is in love and is the main driving force behind their relationship. She notices that everything he doesn't always sit well with her, but she ignores it because everything else, in her mind, makes up for it. And she knows that she should know better. Some of his friends know exactly what is going on and they keep mum. And then he completely fucks her over. The end.

Lessons learned from movie/quotes:

"I feel old, but not very wise."

"Taste isn't half the battle, it's the whole war."

Part Three:

Part Two should help explain what was meant by Part One. If you don't get it that's okay. I'm using secret girl-code. But really, if you don't get, then you just don't get it. DC, unfortunately, is full of people that get it. And those that do get it know exactly how to use the people that don't. It's a pretty sick relationship. I didn't always get it, I do now.

Phone People

Today both of my parents called me. I love them, but really, they call me all the time, and I don't like to answer because 1) my mother likes to tell me stories about people that I don't know or care about, 2) my father pretends that I am five years old, and 3) they both like to express their disappointment in my life.

My mother called me today to talk about the bill she got from my school and somehow that led to her and I arguing about my happiness? It was so bizarre? Who argues about that? Apparently we do, because as Pittmans, we are capable about arguing about anything whenever. It does not matter how trivial. We will argue about it. And nothing wakes you up on a rainy afternoon like an argument between you and your mother about your happiness.

She and I recently went on a drive while I was having a panic attack and during that time we discussed my depression. When I lived at home I saw a therapist regularly, and when I moved to Richmond we still had sessions over the phone regularly and then they became less frequent, and now I haven't spoken to her in about four months. My mom didn't like her because she felt that my therapist wasn't "doing her job" which, in my mother's point of view, was to use the Gospel (Mormon Doctrine) to help me cope. My therapist was Mormon, but very progressive and had she been what my mother wanted, I would not have gone. And manohman, high school would have been a lot worse.

My mother has failed to understand, for years, the importance of self-discovery. She never put much effort into and I as previously expressed, have put a lot of effort into it. And my mom decided that it was this mentality that causes my supposed unhappiness. I'm not going to go into the difference between being unhappy and general depression, but I am not the former. I do what I can to keep myself happy, and it involves being social, at places my parents do not approve of.

This combined with the monotony of money talk escalated into her accusing me of wanting all the wrong things, but an eventual agreement that we are different.

I know. Crazy.

But what she views as my being materialistic, I view as being stressed out about money, because all I want out of life at this point is to be financially stable. I understand that being a twenty year old, I am exactly where I'm supposed to me - still mostly dependent on my parents, in school, working part time - but it feels so far away, and it's so discouraging.

Amongst all the craziness I mentioned that I think it would be good if I took a semester off or went to the community college for a semester, because it might be less stressful.

My dad called me later and told me, "Amanda, you are staying in school, because if you don't you're moving back home and won't be on our insurance anymore." Thanks, Dad!

"Don't do drugs."

What?

"Don't do drugs."

My dad told me not to do drugs. He has never told me not to do drugs. Drugs have never been an issue. Because I don't do them.

"Stay in school and don't do drugs."

How bizarre. My parents are so strange. For anyone who was wondering, this is where I get it from.

But thank God, a boy called. A non-crazy (this is very important as I have history of attracting the crazies) boy, who is my age (well, 21), a journalism major, works on his school radio station and student publications, has an internship at NPR, and was even the ed-in-chief of his high school litmag. I am pretty certain that we are the same person, he just happens to have a penis. But he lives in DC. DC!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Why can't I find one of these in Richmond? Nevermind that, he has called me three times this week. THREE TIMES! and. AND! He has said at the end of each call, "I'll call you later." And then, he does. I swear, he has got to be some sort of anomaly. I didn't know that they still made males in this form. I'll be he's even the flower-buying type, and not to prove that he has money to burn (as a certain someone expressed to me earlier this week) but because it's a kind gesture. And he has major word vomit, much like my own. I can totally look past the fact that he just discovered Lykke Li because his favorite song from her album is my favorite song. Not the happiest of songs, but it's beautiful nonetheless.



And another one just because I love her and this video.

10

I'm an exceptionally vain person, I know, and sometimes I kind of feel bad about it, but then I look at the people around me and don't feel so bad for inheriting way better genes than them. I am consistantly irritated by the fact that the dudes that I am or have been interested in go for chicks that are not prettier than me. Sure, sure, I'm shallow, whatever, I get there is more to a person than how they look, but I'm a ten and these dudes keep going for butterfaces and fives. But can't they find chicks that are good looking and interesting, smart, witty, etc.? I'm sure it's possible.

And then there are the girls that think that they're a ten and are fours. Those ones are the worst. Oh, and they wear really cheap polyester dresses from Charlotte Russe, god, it's really awful. Will someone please explain this to me? I'm not talking about you're average skank who's some one time thing, I'm talking dating, like relationships, with saggy boobs and bad dye-jobs.

I'm sorry, I don't mean to be or sound like such a bitch, but this is part of that stupid "hating boys" thing I'm suffering through right now. I need to settle down in my apartment and then maybe socialize and find a nice twenty-something with a job, and because I live in Richmond, now, I don't care all that much what that job is so long as he has one. I suppose I can't really blame those boys for not going for tens seeing as my standards seem to be lowering. Ohdeargod, the black whole that is Richmond is slowly making me less, tense? High-strung? Snotty? Probably not, but I may learn to relax, and that might not be so bad.

TMI

If you recall all the bitching I've been doing about boys and how I'm taking a break, blahblahblah... I haven't shaved in three weeks and I'm enjoying it too much. My roommate is repulsed by my legs and when we were at H&M I was trying on dresses and her eyes got so big when she saw my armpits. Luckily I'm not a very hairy person and what is three weeks for me looks like a couple days for other people I know. It's getting to be a bit much, I may have to do something about it tomorrow if I want to wear anything cute this weekend.

Cranberry Juice and Vodka...is delicious.

I originally wrote this for BYT, but they wouldn't post it because it may give the appearance that they encourage underage drinking, even though I wrote it as a joke...kind of.


How to Drink Underage in DC

1. Be a cute girl – I’m sorry fellows, but this is just one area where being a girl really pays off.

2. Chop off all your hair – all those long locks you once sported and couldn’t bare to get rid of, do in fact make you look like a freshman in high-school. Sure they’re “pretty” but nothing screams I’m underage like someone who has hair that is reminiscent of any character from The O.C. That means you boys with shaggy hair, too.

3. Pretend that you have a great job or are in grad-school – So, I fudge a little bit, I do have a “real” job, and if I really needed to live off of it, I could, but in certain circumstances it’s very important to have a good story. “I’m in attending law school at GW” or “I’m a copy-editor at Congressional Quarterly” are both good lines, just don’t use them. Everyone knows you’re lying.

4. Buy some new clothes – that A&F t-shirt isn’t fooling anyone. You’ve got to explore the other end of the mall, that means places that are usually reserved for “old people” like Banana Republic and J.Crew, though if you have a lot of money please try Nordstrom’s, and if you don’t no one will know that you got your Seven jeans at Marshall’s. You’re probably thinking that you already have great fashion sense and that your Cheap Monday’s fit the bill, but you don’t want to look like a hipster – you are underage, trying to dress like a hipster will put you in the poser/scenester category and you will fail miserably. Finding the happy medium between rich-kid-in-suburbia and trying-too-hard can be difficult, but I promise, it can be done. If you are a girl, having a really nice rack will always come in handy, so buy the water bra, you might need it.

5. Trick an older man/woman into dating you – when you’re out the bartenders and wait-staff will think you’re older, or think that whoever you’re with is a pedophile.

6. Know where to go – you can’t get served just anywhere. Chad America (at The Black Cat, if you didn’t know) knows that you’re not old enough, so don’t try him. Instead just go to any European themed restaurant before you go out. (Of course I’m assuming that you can keep it together long enough to get past the bouncer at your favorite venue.)

*None of this will work if you cannot keep it together. Everyone hates belligerent kids. Don’t be one.

** These things don't work as well in Richmond. Well, number one does, if you know where the creepy, foreign, non-law-abiding men work.

Brett Ashley

Dating. It sucks. Mostly because V-day is like a week away and I have never had a decent one. Last year Mraco was still in Georgia and we had to wait to celebrate until he came to visit like a week later. And that still didn't turn out the way it should, or dates should - but that was just because he didn't have a car (Army) and didn't live here.

So, because I have been very frustrated with the boys in Richmond not doing things the right way, I've decided to make a list. DC boys, you did it right, and perhaps set the bar too high for these guys down here.

- I am a lady, or at least should be treated like one. I shouldn't have to ask for it. You are a boy and you should just do it, no matter our status.
- Open my door.
- Stand up when I come to and leave the table.
- Excuse yourself when you need to use your phone, whether or not you leave my presence. It's polite.
- Always offer to pay. It doesn't matter if I am dating you or not. It's called being a gentleman.
- An amendment to the above - because we are out and you are offering to pay, do no wait to pick up the bill. Pick it up immediately. Do not let me see it. But do wait for me to offer to pay my half and then insist on paying all of it. I don't mind covering the tip or treating us to dessert afterward.
- Pick me up.
- Bring me flowers. This is probably the only thing that other girls can dispute. Some people don't like flowers - those people are obviously incompetent. I love fresh flowers, all of them, except carnations and mums. Buy me those and I will never talk to your cheap ass again.
- Dance with me. At least know how to waltz. Dancedancedance. I want to dance, with you.
- Plan something, anything, a walk, take me to a park and push me on a swing, seriously, this isn't difficult.
- Though sometimes I should get giddy. I love the pre-date giddiness.
- I like to look pretty, you should too. I want to get dressed up sometimes, and I want to see you in a tie, and if you really want to impress me, wear french cuffs, with cuff links, without pleated pants.

All of this may make me seem "high maintenance" but really it's just traditional. I like my independence just as much as you do, but if you think I'm cute, time rewinds to 1926. And these things aren't all romantic, they're just common courtesy.