Getting Pinned

lies, texts, beers, oh my! stories of modern dating

[gettingpinned]

Let's Stop Idealizing the Chase

Perhaps Disney screwed me over portraying the damsel in distress and the prince charming that comes to save her, but I've long held to the notion that some man would appear in my life and erase all of the self-doubt and trust issues that plague my existence. In my mind, this perfect person would somehow understand from the instant our eyes locked that I have a hard time letting go of insecurities and he would continue to pursue me despite my ennui. Just as in the movies, I would enchant him with my beguiling evasiveness, troubled soul, and general brooding personality. 

Now, let's snap back to reality.If you are indeed this kind of person, such as myself, who feels a stabbing discomfort each time you across a particularly enthralling guy with the potential for something more, you need to work on something quite simple: show your interest. Simply expecting an unsaid and unexpressed connection only leads to tears and frustration because most likely this man you like does not work as a mind reader for his side job. As someone similarly in this struggle, I know that for dark and twisty people this admission of like presents a formidable challenge. It means vulnerability and preparing oneself for the high possibility of rejection, but the side effect of staying quiet also pushes us back into that hole of wallowing and confusion. 

So, be bold. Do it. Tell that person how you feel. Practice in front of the mirror. Voice record yourself. Express to your friends how much you appreciate them. Start small, but at least get the process going and understand that nobody likes a Debby Downer, even if deep on the inside she has the best intentions and the most love to give. You have to show it. 

-Jess

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Apology Note

Dear Potentials and Pasts, 

I am sorry.  

I am sorry that I automatically assume that you are an asshole. That from either past experiences, the media, or fratty guy friends, I immediately label you as just another dude looking to score. I believe you don't have any interest in real intimacy or getting to know me, and I will act on these beliefs. I am sorry that I combat this fear of you by either holding out, as if not having sex with you is the only thing that will keep me interesting. Or I immediately shut down, cautious to show any feeling for you for fear that you will quickly turn away without so much as a text goodbye.

I am sorry that I disregard you as a person because I place you in a category of assholes. I will talk about you to my friends by using nicknames, or calling you, "oh you know, that dude." Why do I believe not using your name will protect me from being hurt?

I am sorry that instead of getting to know you, I don't give you a chance. Even when you say nice things, I cannot return the sentiment  because I am that afraid of you rejecting me. I continue to believe you don't mean these nice things, because I still think you are only after one thing. I am sorry that once that happens, I believe you want nothing more. Any offers to get drinks or lunch will be dismissed.

I am sorry I am paralyzed by fear of you being an asshole. And for that reason I am the asshole.

Not that I ever let you close enough to care, but I hope you can forgive me.

-Dub

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Knowing When Not to Call Him an Asshole

As a girl, I've often found myself consoling a friend with a bottle of alcohol, tissues, and continuous iterations of He wasn't good enough for you, You deserve better, and He's just an asshole in the various phases of a break-up. Although in certain cases some of the men were actually pretty terrible, a fair number of these guys did not actually deserve the wrath of hell we bestowed on them. I love my friends and consider them great and wonderful people, but that does not mean they walk around in a bubble of flawless perfection. To demonize an ex-boyfriend for not having the capacity to handle certain characteristics seems unfair. 

Personally, I feel awkward when a friend tells me that someone I'm seeing and clearly of value in my mind does not deserve my attention. In a way, when a friend discounts the guy that I've handpicked as lesser, I become extremely self-conscious that perhaps I am somehow a loser for having chosen these kinds of men. Why am I not good enough to have selected someone better? What does my decision say about myself? Perhaps that's an extremely selfish perspective from which to view the situation, but the thought cannot help crossing my mind when I see the look of disapproval cross my friend's faces. 

So, reader, I'd advise that you think twice before jumping to call a friend's current or ex partner any kind of derogatory term. Unless said partner was a cheater. Only then can the flood gates of curse word open. 

-Jess

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The Houdini

We've all had experiences with the one who just disappears. Snap. They're gone. I had the (unenjoyable) pleasure of meeting my first fader this past summer at a wedding with my family.

I had no expectations that I would meet anyone, and with an open bar and some dance music my sister and I found ourselves busting some sweet moves on the dance floor. A stereotypical dance circle ensued with the wedding guests strutting their stuff and sashaying in all kinds of ways. Then four guys tried to pull us into the dance circle. Fairly inebriated, I jump into the center, shake my ass, pivot, jump, and just lose it as these dudes hollered and cheered. With a goofy drunk smile on my face after I bowed out of the circle, this guy approached me and we started chatting. I just assumed he was complimenting me on that killer performance, and I indulged his attempts at picking me up with multiple lines and his trying to lean in and make out with me (which I did not do because I was at a wedding with my parents). He was attractive and it turned out that he also lived in the same city, but I had to stifle a laugh when he told me he lived in a neighborhood known for yuppy prepster lacrosse boys. Perhaps that should have been the warning sign.

In my haze between wedding cake, whiskey, and doing the twist with my dad, I genuinely forgot about him. At some point during the night he found me again, asked me out, and got my number. The next morning I woke up to several texts from this guy that read, "Come have drink," "Your dad bought me a beer," "We are going to a farm, come out." Clearly, he seemed interested. We text bantered that week, agreeing to meet for a drink, which led to two other dates. Everything seemed to be going well. We were exchanging about a text a day, spending the night, etc. Then, things took a turn fast. 

At dinner one night, I reminded him that I was leaving for the weekend to visit a good friend. I politely asked him if he wouldn't mind driving me to the airport given that he was spending the night at my place anyways. He agreed but did not look thrilled. I didn't make much of it and we proceeded to have a nice evening. The next morning, after he dropped me off at the airport, he sent me a photo of the sunrise. Boyfriend move, right there. I didn't think I needed to be worried about anything and had a great time that weekend, although I sent him one text that weekend with no response. I assumed he was busy hanging out with friends or running errands and would text/call me later on in the week.

I waited a couple more days and sent another text. No response. After a whole week of nothing, I was fed up and called him. Of course he didn't answer so I left a "be a man and call me" voicemail. No response. 

He had vanished. Slipped into thin air. Not a trace left. I was racking my brain with what went wrong.

Later I see on a Facebook status from him that he's moving to Dubai for a new job. What?! Was he already there? Did he want a last US fling? Why wasn't he honest about his intentions? Who knows? And seriously now, who cares about that asshole? I just wish he had the balls to break it off with me instead of quietly tiptoeing into the night like a coward. 

-C

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The Naked Man

Being a work-a-hollic, I decided to try online dating.  During one of my second dates with this guy, we planned on a "low key" night at his apartment consisting of wine and a movie. The date seemed to be going well and we polished off a bottle as we sat watching Zombieland. It was time for a second bottle.I went into the kitchen to grab it, and turned around to find my date literally butt naked.

Oh my god. I had just been "naked man-ed".

Flustered, I quickly asked him to get dressed. The night became even more embarrassing and awkward when we finished the opened wine and came to the conclusion that it would be a good idea to go meet up with his brother at a bar. At this point, both of us had already consumed a significant amount of alcohol but we had some more at the bar before deciding to head home. While we were walking outside, his brother thought it would be a good idea to chest bump me. Why? God knows. I fell to the ground. As if the Naked Man move had not already forever burned the memory of this date in my head, I was now on my back lying in the middle of a parking lot. It was definitely time to end the night. 

- B

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Married to the Game

Modern dating is fucked because modern men and women are pathetic. Girl or guy - how much of your daily background mental process is devoted to thinking about someone you're dating? And why? Dating plays way too important of a role in the modern psyche. I blame Obama.

Just kidding.

But seriously -

I am not sure when a man's self-worth (or a woman's for that matter) became divorced from their sense of purpose, and tied to whether or not someone finds him (or her) attractive. Most sane men don't view women as property, but continue to use them as instruments in their pursuit for self-validation. Sadly, I'm certain it's the same for many girls.

Lately, it’s become in vogue to write articles, comments and tweets about everything that’s wrong with modern dating. There are certainly a lot of shitty things about it. The primary ones being that the inputs - human beings - are shit.

We've been conditioned to think that romantic relationships - particularly enduring, monogamous ones - are a necessary part of the teleology of human life. How? Since when?

I'm from an Asian background - all of my aunts and uncles have had arranged marriages. There hasn't been a single divorce in the family. Anecdotal, I know, but I'm sure others with similar backgrounds can corroborate. Now, compare that to the success rates over 30 years of 'love marriages.' Yeah, it's hilarious. Does true love actually exist?

I don't think so. Marriage was once an economic proposition where two farmers would exchange goats for land, and solidify that bond by tying their families together. This isn't new - look at the couples for whom marriages last. They're the ones for whom relationships are a fairly dull utility. I don't even know how religions co-opted that into some moral shit, or how DeBeers turned that into some commercial shit, or how Disney turned it into an identity for little girls.

Human beings have always been insane. I don't think I'd ever want to be around the same person for 30 years. I bet marriage was a lot easier when people got married at 12 and died (on average) at 23.

What makes us pathetic is that we live in willful ignorance of the reality that being around the same person for a long time blows because we're too fucking afraid to challenge current norms.

Fuck that. Forget about marriage.

But fuck dating too. It's dumb. Why do I wanna be with someone who's self-worth is affected by my affection? I don't wanna deal with that shit.

I would rather just have sex when I feel a desire to have sex, but it's literally 50x cheaper to masturbate (here's some quick math: a porno membership is $30/mo - assuming you jerk off every day, it's about $1 per sperm. Assume the life of a casual relationship is 1 drink date ($50) and 1 dinner date ($100), then 3 sex's before someone realizes you're not serious, you're paying roughly $50 per sperm.)

So why date? I'd argue it's because we crave validation from others because our sense of self is pathetically weak. That's it. If you can transcend that desire, you probably don't need to date.

So what else should we do besides fuck each other?

Glad you asked.

Do like Lil Wayne, and marry yourself to the game.

Develop a fucking sense of purpose. Work. Produce. Self-actualize. Contribute to the world, for fuck's sake. That should be the SOLE reason you wake up every day. If you aren't doing something you're proud of right now, you should be ashamed of yourself. How did you let yourself get to this point? From the days of the savannah, the one thing we've evolved to do is to make shit.

It's not about the money (although money is nice). I work my ass off because I believe my work is my highest purpose. And it's closely followed by weightlifting. Then it's family. Then it's charity. Then it's Mexican food. Romance is probably not even on the list.

And I'm motherfucking PROUD of it. It's high time YOU become proud of something, besides how many chicks you're banging. And then maybe you can finally bang more chicks.

-Billy

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Every Girl Wants to be a Princess

It was my best friend's wedding. I decided to go solo, and being the recently graduated law student that I was, I felt like I had the confidence to pull it off. Who needs a man?! Not this girl!

My plan backfired.

Towards the end of the night and several champagne cocktails later, my friends decided to pawn me off on the only other single person at the wedding. He was cute and seemed sweet. When he offered to drive me home, my friends all but pushed me into the car.

The doors locked. Michael Bublé started playing. He turned to me and started singing, "I Just Haven't Met You Yet." Loudly.

I was in trouble. Had I known what was coming, what the next move was, I would have immediately unbuckled my seat belt and started running home. Fast.

At our destination, we got out of the car and sauntered toward a park bench. He put his iPhone on play, offered me his hand, and asked if I want to dance.

I stifled a laugh. "Um… ok," I said. What was I supposed to do?!

Then came  the pièce de la résistance. A full-on Disney medley began playing, and best of all (or worst), he sang along. WITH CHARACTER VOICES. He made it all the way through the Little Mermaid (my personal favorite was  "Kiss the Girl"  complete with an impression of Sebastian), Beauty and the Beast, and Aladdin. Thirty minutes later (yes, thirty minutes!), once there was a pause in the music, I mustered the courage to ask him to please take me home.

As a little girl, I had always dreamed of being a Disney princess. I mean, I was Belle for Halloween three years in a row. My parents literally had to hide the costume as it was my favorite article of clothing. But I never thought my reign as "Queen of the Ball" would come at age twenty-five.

I tell this story not to be mean but just to recount one of my many crazy dating experiences. His heart was in the right place and perhaps more men should take a greater interest in making the women they're dating feel special (but perhaps not to this extreme). I am sure I will have many more silly stories of dates gone wrong. But this was  definitely one for the books.

-Sophie

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Loves Me, Loves Me Not

Today we turn to the age old question that still mystifies and captivates us: how do you know when someone likes you? We took an unofficial poll of 22-32 year old men and women from across the world. Here are some of the answers we've received.

Girls are a crapshoot. - Soluto

He asks you out on a Friday night and allows his friend to tag a picture of you and him together on Facebook. - G

She touches my penis. Before that it's always a little unclear to me. - Alistair

It's in the small things, like close contact, if they light up when you walk in, they talk about you to their friends, and they're good about communicating. -Leila

The other day some guy that I met reached out to me on LinkedIn and told me I am super awesome and asked me to coffee. So I guess he likes me? It was awkward. I have yet to respond. -Hillary

When they really try to get to know you. -April

Maybe because you can be yourself around them. Seems like with most people you have to act differently than you would like to but if you find someone who you can be yourself around that means a lot. -Jacob

When you can fart around them. -Amanda

You can tell when a guy likes you by the look in his eyes. There's usually some sort of lightness and sparkle without a hint of condescension or scrutiny, and it's completely directed your way. -Bee

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Happy Friday!

http://www.buzzfeed.com/lukelewis/gifs-that-scream-friday-afternoon

We're taking a break for the weekend, but will be back Monday with more awkward, juicy, and contemplative stories. 

And just a reminder, we want to hear from all of you! Feel free to send us your writing. Follow the link on our home page to submit your thoughts on dating, relationships, boys, girls, online stalking, etc. No word limit maximum or minimum. 

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One Kiss, Two Kiss, Bad Kiss, Ew Kiss

When I pictured this moment from across the room

I didn’t imagine youd kiss like a vacuum

I’m drowning now, my face covered in spit

Oh god in heaven, my ear you just bit?!

Your tongue dances quickly across my lips

Like some kind of insane tap dancer who constantly slips

I want to leave, I wonder if there are cabs?

But you just took off your shirt- oh god those abs!!

Sweet Jesus, do you spend all your time at the gym?

I have to stop drowning, I’ll learn how to swim.

I guess I can deal with bad kissing for a body this svelte.

But babe shhh just stop talking while I loosen your belt.

-G

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An Inappropriate Proposition

Remember that time in a hotel bar in London? They were American, in town for a business trip. They asked if you wanted to sip some champagne to celebrate some big deal they just closed. The younger guy was a little rounder and the old dude had a mustache.

You said sure, you would love a glass of champagne. Why not. It was the last few days of your semester abroad. Why not go out in style. So, you sat there and let these older men flirt with you. Tell you that you have a nice smile. The bartender made sure your glass was never empty. They tell you about their families. The older one has a daughter about your age, maybe a little older. The round guy has four kids, all boys. And he grew up in the same area you did, although he moved to the northeast after college.

You laughed. You smiled.

 It was like talking to your dad or your boyfriend's dad.  They were excited for you. Impressed with your achievements.

That's great that you're studying abroad AND planning on taking the LSAT!

Then the raunchy jokes started.

You always considered yourself part of the boys' club so you played along. Then the questions started getting more personal. You giggled and answered because you were amused by the attention.

So are you dating anyone? Anyone at home missing you?

Just ended things with my boyfriend of 4 years.

Oh, really? Well it must be hard getting used to being alone. How do you deal with it?

At some point, you remember, the older guy left for his room and you were alone with the round guy, the one with four kids. You had drank at least three glasses of champagne by this point. You didn't know, the glass was never empty. You continued laughing at his bad jokes. Even when he asked you if you touched yourself. You kept laughing, thinking he was joking. But then he wasn't. 

You noticed he took off his wedding ring, probably when he went to the bathroom. During which the bartender asked if you were okay. You giggled. You should have left then but you were giddy with champagne.

Remember, he asked you if you wanted to go upstairs and have a good time. It was maybe thirty minutes after he told you about his family on the other side of the Atlantic. Remember that proposition, the specifics of which you can't write down because the details make you want to throw up when you think about it again.

You firmly denied him. You dramatically explain that you remember what it was like when your dad walked out on your mom. You told him you had to go home. You were thankful that you weren't staying at the hotel, that you could go back to your dorm and he wouldn't know where you were.

Now you can't believe that you stayed around for so long. Was it so innocent? Did you not know what was going on?

But the real question you ask is what would have happened if this married man had been more attractive? A little bit younger? More charming?

-Dub

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The What Ifs

Ever notice how the what-ifs, the potentials, and the never got a chances are the hardest to get over?

Like, that guy I went on a couple dates with and never heard from. Theoretically, he is still full of so much potential. Or that guy I had a fling with in college my senior year, where we both went our separate ways before anything real could happen. It could have been more.

I am a pretty rational person. I try not to dwell on things. But I cannot stop thinking about these brief relationships that never ran their course. I see these what-ifs everywhere. Actors on my favorite TV shows start looking like them. I see them at the gate across from me in the airport. They are at the mall, the coffee shop, or anywhere, regardless of whether they live in the same city.

They become faultless. I can't think of one thing wrong with them. That's the problem with these "flings" not being long enough. You are unable to determine the glaring imperfections of the person. If only the whole thing had lasted just a couple months longer. Then we could stop dating because we just don't like each other. But, no. Instead, we flirt with each other over a couple drinks. They are perfect gentlemen, holding the car door open for you and walking you to the door. We are still excited about kissing (just kissing!) at the end of the night, and the thought of what is to come. We are still mysterious to each other. And then they leave. Forever immaculate. 

Instead, it’s not him, but it’s the what ifs that continue to drive me insane. What if we had tried? What if I had been a little bolder about my feelings? What if I hadn't messed up? What if I had been honest with myself? What if I had given it a chance? What if he had given me more of a chance? We could have had a future.

To combat the what ifs, I have to make up flaws. I have to create the scenario that inevitably would have occurred. Things would be going great. But then, each of us would start to tarnish. I would likely become more controlling. He would get emotionally needy or continue to be distant. We would argue. I wouldn't want to hang out with his friends. He would no longer pretend to enjoy hanging out with my family. At some point, we break up. Better one month in than six months, I tell myself.

But, then again, what if it had turned into happily ever after?

-Dub 

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When It Rains, It Pours...

I'm an expat in Shanghai, and for those of you unfamiliar with the city, any young foreign woman is sure to cite the shallow dating pool as one of the major drawbacks. In a city of endless parties, bars, clubs (with free booze!) where people come and go so frequently, it's not surprising that men aren't exactly lining up to take a girl on an old fashioned date. Add to this situation the other major roadblock to an expat lady's happily-ever-after: Shanghainese girls. These local girls are gorgeous, refined, somehow eternally skinny, and prey on foreign men. 

All that said, if you're going to survive in this kind of environment, you at some point have to stop whining and make the best of it. For me, after about a year, I'd accepted my fate of having a lot of fun with my friends and very occasional smooches in Chinese clubs. It's a tough life, eh? Well, that was until what remains one of the weirdest pick-ups of my life. Very different to the culture of my home country of rainy England, there exists a "convenience store" culture in Shanghai where people buy cheap beer at these little corner shops across the city and either chug it before returning to a pricey bar or end up spending their night hanging out with their friends outside these stores. During one occasion of the latter with a good friend, both of us pretty inebriated, I wound up talking to a nice boy outside. Despite his choice of pajama pants as appropriate outside attire, I agreed to be taken to dinner the next week and we exchanged numbers . Sounds pretty normal if you haven't lived in China, but being asked for dinner in Shanghai was almost unheard of among my friends. Especially by a random foreigner on the street!

The following weekend the elusive date rolled around. In truth, I could hardly remember what he looked like but he seemed nice in his texts. Then things got interesting. 

My date was scheduled for Sunday, but on that Saturday night I ran into a friend of a friend who I'd met before and thought was cute, but wrote off as another foreigner in Shanghai looking to hit it and quit it. However, next thing I know, we're making out and he tells me he's liked me for a while (eh?!). While we have a good time, I don't think too much of it, and the next day I turn my concentration back to being less promiscuous and back to the hope of an old school date leading to more. The date went well and Mr. Convenience Store was a nice guy, but I knew early on I just wasn't that attracted to him. Though I’m not going to lie, it was nice to be treated well and he was good company. That night happened to be a big night for the England rugby team playing against France, and with the best sports bar in town across from the restaurant, he accompanied me to go and watch the rest of the match. 

Now the problem with being the best sports bar in town, is that every young Englishman in Shanghai was bound to be there - including Mr. Saturday Night, who had just texted me, asking if I was coming to watch the rugby. He immediately spotted me, shook hands with my "friend," and things became even more complicated - they knew each other(?!?). We ended up sitting with Mr. Saturday Night and a few of his friends. My obvious answer to deal with the awkwardness was to drink, and then use the excuse of sharing a taxi with my roommates  to escape quickly after the game and avoid a goodbye with either of them. It's funny how things turned out - I ended up dating Mr. Saturday Night for a good few months afterwards (which only ended when he sadly had to move back to England), while I had to politely turn down several offers of second dates from Mr. Convenience Store. What did I learn out of this complicated mess? While nice dates with nice boys are nice, that connection we all seek can hit you from the most unexpected places!!

-Sarah 

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No More Charlie Browns.

Self-respect. That’s the name of the game this year. I’m not usually one for New Year’s resolutions, but with the passing of age I find myself more inclined towards the belief that everyone should take any and all opportunities for self-improvement. So, in 2014, I vow to take dating more seriously and to avoid those men who can’t seem to make up their minds, i.e., Charlie Browns.

Perhaps it’s my overanalyzing brain and hesitancy jumping into anything with anyone until I’ve considered the scenario from every angle imaginable, but there seems to be a magnet pulling me towards wishy-washy men.  They’re confused. I’m confused. We latch onto each other, leading to an even more confusing dance of what the fuck are we doing.

And to that situation, I say, NO MORE. I’m demanding dating with inherent exclusivity. That doesn’t mean needing the official label of boyfriend and girlfriend, but rather requires some agreement to get to know each other in a way that is respectful enough not to be fucking around with other people. This faithfulness without a title might be impossible to find, but I would rather spend a year alone and abstinent than dive into yet another casual relationship defined only by midnight booty calls. 

I’m worth more than just a 2AM text. Though I don’t necessarily have the best self-esteem to truly realize my own worth at the moment, I am going to spend this year trying. No more one-night stands. No more random flings. No more Charlie Browns. Let’s see how long I will be able to survive.

-Jess 

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Self-Inflicted Pity Party

So I recently experienced getting dumped for the first time. Well, this was my first I'm-going-to-call-you-to-tell-you-it's-over dumped, the what!-I-actually-liked-you dumped, the but-I-thought-things-were-going-really-well dumped.

However, this post is not about being dumped. This post is about the self-inflicted pity party I had for myself, during which I had to force myself into a deep enough depression to cry because. I don’t just cry.  If I do shed the tears it’s  because I’m watching the teddy bear scene in Hook andI have had just a little too much red wine.

I determined that Friday would be perfect for some self-reflection. In preparation, I went to Whole Foods and bought a couple bottles of wine and a frozen pizza. I then sat on my couch, poured myself a glass, and succumbed to a spiral of self-pity...

Around this time my sister was obsessed with the Myers-Briggs personality test (really any personality test) and had sent me a Buzzfeed link to my animal counterpart.

I was an octopus. Yes, that is right. I have eight arms. Not exactly someone you want to take home to mom. Googling shows that other counterparts include Draco Malfoy or Severus Snape from Harry Potter, Hannibal Lector, and Batman, to name a few.

Additionally, my type is most likely to have a personality disorder. Specifically, I am prone to being paranoid, schizoid, schizotypal, and that people like me "seldom...fall head over heels in love. They are far too rational."[i] So much for living a real life rom-com.

 Phase 2: Comparing Past Relationship Failings

I begin running through past "relationships" in my head. This is brief and depressing.

I am on the second bottle of wine.

Phase 3: The Cry

As I continue to mull over everything, each event scrolls through my mind like the opening of Star Wars and I begin to feel the tears burning behind my eyes. I start with some dry heaving and slight hyperventilating. Then, the tears flow. I start crying uncontrollably.

I sit with my wine glass in hand watching the last half of my third movie and just bawl.

I am not a pretty crier, and am aware of this the whole time. I think about my shoulders shaking up and down. I think about the howling sounds I’m making. I wonder if my neighbor can hear me, and try to quiet myself. This just makes me return to the dry heaving and hyperventilating. I become thankful I live alone.

My dog looks at me, clearly confused. For a second, I think she wants to be comforting, but she just needs to go outside. So I walk her around the block.  Sniffling, being pathetic.

I come back, pour another glass, and sit on the couch. The tears come and go. I send a few more texts. The last one being that "I am an octopus and am going to die alone." My friend stopped responding about 10 texts earlier.

I soon fall into sleep, still clutching my glass, exhausted from the emotional turmoil I inflicted on myself.

Phase 4: Release

I wake up the next morning, curled up on my couch and (miraculously) with no hangover.  I feel amazing.

The self-inflicted pity party was absolutely the release I needed. It did not magically enable me to change my behavior, but I am closer to accepting those things that I cannot change. Mostly, I am okay with things not working out and that it is going to take a damn long time to find someone where things will.

And that's okay.

[i] http://www.ipersonic.com/type/ID.html

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Relationship Lite & How Do I Get It?

  Anna Deutsch, New Dating Rules: The Subtleties of ‘Relationship Lite,’ Elle (Dec. 27, 2013) http://www.elle.com/life-love/sex-relationships/how-do-relationships-progress-in-a-casual-dating-world

Relationship Lite.* This is what I have been searching for. I have no idea what I actually want, but know exactly what I don't want right now—a serious relationship. But something where we hang out, hook up, generally enjoy each other's company, and don't talk about marriage or meeting each other's parents

But how do I do this? How do I find a guy in his late 20s, in Texas, who I get along with and is looking for the same thing? Does this only happen in New York? I've tried various methods, some unintentionally (i.e., drunken hookups) and others more deliberate (normal dating). These have all not worked. A guy is either going to want more or less. Something serious or just a booty call. The dating leads to expectations or the necessity of defining what we are… the random hookups remain just that until the dude gets a girlfriend. Really it just hasn't worked.

But in the age of group hangs, I continue to believe it’s possible.

So, as the New Year has just begun, I am on the search for this "relationship lite." I don't know how it is going to happen, whether I am just going to pull a Carrie on SATC and sleep with them on the first date, whether I am just going to openly tell somebody what I am looking for, or I can find a friend, who is single, and just go for it.

I'll keep you posted, dear readers, on my venture for this surprisingly hard to find dating scenario.

 *See also, Jill Di Donato, Relationship Lite, Huffington Post (Nov. 3, 2013) http://www.huffingtonpost.com/jill-di-donato/relationship-lite_b_4067324.html

[gettingpinned]

Getting Schooled (2/2)

Okay, readers, in case you don't remember… I was telling you about this girl, who I thought was perfect. And then we kissed…  

I’m going to take a minute to try and explain what was going on when we kissed—I still remember the confusion I felt. Something was just wrong when she kissed. It wasn’t for lack of passion or effort. In fact, it was most certainly too much effort. She was the type of kisser who jammed her tongue into your mouth and then actually tried to push your tongue down the back of your throat.

It isn’t a fun experience guys. You don’t have to actually battle the other person’s tongue and occupy their mouth with yours. This isn’t a game of Risk. It’s much better to treat it like a dance, with each person feeling out the other’s rhythm, trying to complement it. Some surprise nips can be a welcome addition.

The real upset though, came from when we eventually had a sleepover together after a few weeks at her place just before summer. Literally a sleepover. It was just a night together, keeping each other company. Maria was a good Italian girl, and I was happy to have someone to snuggle up with at night without feeling the need to push for more.

Anyways . . .

I thought that standing up and making out was extremely distressing, but laying down together was even worse! Same as she had deemed it necessary to exercise the full meaning of using her tongue as “the strongest muscle,” she seemed to think that keeping your body completely rigid while making out was another key to seductive foreplay. She brought a whole new idea to the term “grinding.” Just to illustrate what I mean. Imagine pelvis bones. Now those pelvis bones are jutting into your body without relief. And the bones have a force of 105 pounds of a totally rigid body mass behind them… let me tell you that is NOT sexy. Frankly, it felt like making out with a rock on top of me that had an oversized pacifier attached to it. Not quite the suppleness and soft body movement I was expecting.

It is much to my chagrin that someone who I otherwise found so attractive and engaging was just not someone who I was able to be intimate with. Over the next couple of weeks I began to disengage, and eventually when she began to talk about getting more serious (involving a possible trip back up to NY from Texas over the summer) I had to break things off.

Now, it could be said that I should have said more or tried to address her poor physical intimacy and I admit that probably would’ve been the right course of action. However, with a mere 19 years and only a single long term relationship under my belt, I was underprepared to have had that conversation without screwing it up. Additionally, in my youth, I was also not willing to put in the work to solve what might have been a resolvable problem.

It just goes to show that even the most promising and exciting encounters still have an element of uncertainty lurking beneath them, and that compatibility occurs at many levels and sometimes meets resistance where otherwise there should never have been a problem. But even given that, it’s still worth trying, and still worth pursuing if only to find that out for yourself.