March 2, 2011


A Girl’s Secret Weapon

I have definitely noticed and written about this fact before, but I just inadvertently re-proved my theory: The most attractive thing a girl can accessorize with is a dress, and a pizza box. I was cat-called at, nearly run over at a stop sign, and asked if it could be got while it was still hot all within my 7 minute walk home from campus. However, I am 92% sure that the pizza is actually the main focal point. Men are like heat-seeking missiles when it comes to a barbecue chicken pizza. Still, ladies, if you want a date for Friday, show up to the bar with pizza. Done. Though if your new relationship only lasts the space of time it takes a 20-something man to eat half of a meat lover’s pizza, don’t blame me. Still, I never turn down an opportunity to carry a pizza box anywhere.

…Actually, I did say I needed a second job…get it while it’s hot, young, and in great shape?

XOXO

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April 20, 2011


…And now we’re going out for drinks.

Instead of finishing our business plans.

Solid choice.

XOXO

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Life College Dating Procrastination Solid Life Decisions

April 21, 2011


I am being taken to play with the dogs at a greyhound rescue Monday night.

Let me re-iterate— I am being taken. On a date. To play with dogs.

WHO IS THIS KID. HOW IS HE SO SMART. AND HOW RIDICULOUSLY ADORABLE IS THAT.

WINNER.

XOXO

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Life Dating Dogs Brilliant These Are A Few Of My Favorite Things

April 22, 2011


Conversation I Legitimately Just Had With My Roommate:

"God, I love annoying the cat. Just lying in bed, poking him, tugging at him, squeaking at him, annoying the shit out of him. And he just keeps coming back for more. Because that’s how much he loves me. …God, the next guy I date really needs to be a push-over."

And this is why I’m a horrible, horrible person who will die alone with not one, but 16 cats. Who eat my face off in retribution for years of persistent, obnoxious abuse once I’ve fallen to the floor and stopped breathing.

XOXO

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April 26, 2011


I just got home from spending 12 hours with a man. No one died. He wouldn’t let me pay for dinner. I didn’t tackle him. Hallelujah.

XOXO

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Dogs. Beer. Italian food.

He knows the way to my heart.

XOXO

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Why Men Think Women Don't Pee.

  • Me: Three beers into last night, I finally realize I, in fact, have to pee there. Am scared. Bachelor pad. Steel myself. Walk into bathroom. Seat and toilet cover are both down. Art on the walls. SOAP in a SOAPDISH. And...a fan of Men's Health magazines laid out on the counter. I emotionally shat myself and promptly went to heaven.
  • Madison: Hahahahaha
  • Me: It was all my OCD dreams come true.
  • XOXO
  • True Life: This happened. Women are generally prone to holding it to a point of near Hoover-Dam-burst proportions before they will use the bathroom in a new guy's house, for fear of a few things: Pubic hair. No toilet paper. No trash can, (if it's that time of the month). Hence the myth that women don't pee is perpetuated. So, when we finally work ourselves up to peeing at your place, it's a Big Fucking Deal. Especially if your left-aligned, diagonally-oriented fan of magazines is on the sink for our reading pleasure, and the place is CLEAN. Fucking perfection.

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April 28, 2011


Girl Talk: You And Me Baby Ain't Nothin' But Mammals.

  • Me: Last night while we were getting coffee, he accidentally spilled some of his coffee across the table, and then knocked a plant into me. After which apologizing profusely and cleaning up, he looks at me and goes, "Sorry, it's been awhile since I've had to romance anyone."
  • Alli: Hahahahahhahahahahahahaha. What did you say?
  • Me: I told him it was ok-- in the wild, monkeys throw dirt, leaves, and dung at each other to show affection, so, all in all, his way was better.
  • XOXO
  • Very true-- I'd take coffee over monkey dung any day, and any date.

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May 2, 2011


I have become a willing part of one of those disgusting couples who always has their arms around each other and kisses sweetly (not skankily) in public. The other night, he took me stargazing in the country, complete with a blanket to lay on. Yesterday, it was a rugby game, because I’d never seen one. Today, we bought a bottle of champagne to celebrate me passing all my classes (which means I’ll actually graduate on time, albeit with some D’s, but after this semester brought to you by hell and my prescription pharmacy, who really gives a flying fuck— that’s right, not me!). He’s 6’3”. I’m all of 5’3’. Now, you do the math and tell me how ridiculously adorable we are when out in public.

This kid. THIS KID.

XOXO

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May 13, 2011


Live, Single Girls!

After my third friend in a row was recently dumped by her long-time partner in lovin’ crime, it started to put my ladies in the Burlington area in a bit of a panic. First, TGIS had gone MIA, then, one friend’s 9+ month f-buddy called it quits on her while citing the need to emotionally distance himself before moving to Beantown, and to top it all off, one of the longest-running couples I knew decided it was time to part ways, effectively rendering everyone’s general mood as if it were the end of Scrub’s era again. At the beginning of the winter, everyone was shacking up. Now as the season is almost turning to summer, it seems as if they’re all shedding us ladies like winter coats and beards. It’s bizarre, but it’s biological.

When I came home a few weeks ago late at night/early that morning from a successful date #2, I realized then that I haven’t been without at LEAST the prospect of a man for the last two years. I went from a summer fling to a feel-it-out situation, to breaking the feel-it-out situation when I slept with someone else who I then started an on-again, off-again relationship with for about a year, then finally ended up facing the music, the relationship’s downfalls, and the lack of my desires being unfulfilled when I met and started hanging out with someone else, and just kept going from there. So much for being a “Single Girl.” But it’s not my fault— there are men EVERYWHERE. The key to finding them, it seems, is to apparently not be looking for them.

While I may have achieved success (more or less,) in the really odd way of just continuing to date via the ex’s friend pool— not by choice; Vermont is just that small— the lesson that I’ve learned here is that “the end” does not really start the sentence “the end of the rest of your romantic life.” When I finally reached the conclusion on my own thanks to lack of any communication or response from him that my relationship with TGIS had run its course, I cheered myself up by doing two things— remembering that he himself had been a random stranger I’d met while intoxicated at a party (true life,) and didn’t remember until he popped up out of the blue and started talking to me on Facebook, ergo, that you NEVER know who’ll you’ll meet or click with, and secondly, taking my bed back by sleeping in the direct middle of it so it didn’t feel quite so big and empty and pathetic and lonely anymore. (Wait, are we talking about me or my bed, now? Hmm.) Partially thanks to that, and partially thanks to probably my Zoloft prescription, it was the least painful break-up I’ve ever had, even though the relationship in itself was probably the most involved and serious to date.

And then I was asked out again out of the blue. I wasn’t expecting it. It wasn’t like I was planning on being a sex-kitten man-magnet right out of the emotional gate again. I actually intended to take some time off, be single, and re-evaluate myself and my life. But instead, I’m content to just feel things out, meet new people, and take things slow for now. Nothing, after all, is written in stone. Other, of course, than monuments, historical road signs, and castle dedications.

The other night, as the beau and I picked up the ingredients to make a late Sunday night dinner dressed in a motley assortment of “wow, laundry day needs to come soon” clothing, I looked across the self-check-out station at another young couple. He was in Timbz and sweats; she in jeggings, flip-flops, and an off-the-shoulder t-shirt that could have been identical to mine. She and I were bagging what was obviously going to be dinner for the night as the guys swiped it across the scanners, and suddenly, it hit me— this isn’t that weird; this is what people my age do. We date. We get in and out of relationships. We find out what we’re looking for in a partner, and we adjust our thinking accordingly. So, while I may eternally feel like that Single Girl, what I really am is a Normal Girl, one who goes on dates, gets into relationships, still deals with her ex’s drama, and more than anything else, is actively and eternally curious about learning what the words “love” and “relationship” really mean.

XOXO

—- 

- Excerpt from SATCG.

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July 21, 2011


I am in No Woman’s Land.

Or No Man’s Land.

I can’t decide which.

XOXO

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August 9, 2011


It goes for both sexes. 
Autonomy…my constant battle.
XOXO

It goes for both sexes. 

Autonomy…my constant battle.

XOXO

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October 5, 2011


The Holy People.

I have just spent the last hour of my life watching a NOVA/National Geo documentary on King Solomon’s mines. Not because I was on the edge of my seat to find out how the real King Solomon measured up to the great Biblical King Solomon— though I will admit, that was of interest to me, too— but because it gave me an hour’s worth of staring at gorgeously exotic-looking Jewish-Israeli men. Long faces. High foreheads. Straight noses. Thin lips. Long sideburns. Dark, ever-present stubble. Golden, glowing skin. I have dated what is probably more than my fair share.

Hummina, hummina, hummina. My type.

I’ll take it.

I’ll take it.

Yes, please, waiter, I’ll take three, and make that an order TO GO.

…I could never go to Israel and come back unmarried. Some tall, thin, desert-bred Jewish man would take one look at this shiksa-goddess and I’d be GONE. Literally, sold American.

Judaism confounds me. The men, however, I get, wholeheartedly.

XOXO 

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October 12, 2011


I’m Just Giving The Dog A Bone: The Men’s Guide To Flirting

So you think you can flirt, huh? I have news for you, buddy— you can always improve on that game, and just like how you begged until your parents sent you to basketball camp in middle school so that you could improve that 3-point shot of yours, I’m here by popular demand to tell you where you’re slacking on the job while trying to pick up chicks. So, here it is, 5 quick, easy tips for sneakily getting on the better, phone-number-giving side of the fairer sex. Use them for good, my boys, not evil. After all— Gandalf is watching.

- Be Aggressive, B.E AGGRESSIVE:

This is the cautionary tale of one would-be suitor gone horrible wrong:

Sometimes, being aggressive is a good thing, like in rugby and fencing and chess and discount sales in Filene’s Basement. But sometimes, it’s not. Persistence isn’t always the best tactic. One over-enthusiastic gent tracked me down on Facebook— and Twitter. He tried friending me— 3 times in 2 days when I didn’t accept fast enough for his liking. He messaged me. He poked me. It was the electronic equivalent of a grade-school kid standing on his blue plastic chair, waving his arms over his head, screaming, “Pick me! Pick me! Pick me!” I still haven’t accepted his request. Why? Because there’s aggressive, and then there’s AGGRESSIVE. And…desperation has never been sexy. Doesn’t matter if you’re XY or XX— it’s a big NO, and the reek of it permeates everything you do. We will know when you’re desperate. Your friends, parents, coworkers, classmates, postal worker, hair dresser, and the entirety of Facebook will know when you are desperate. It shows. So get a leash on that beast. Down, boy.

- “E” Is For Effort. Also, Egotistical Eunuchs End Up Eating Alone:

I’ve had guys tell me, “Come down to see me when you’re on your break.” This is bad. If you’re the one who wants to see me, then you can come to me. A girl with options never goes out of her way for a man; she’ll let him come to her, if he wants to. Nothing tells a girl faster if a guy is really serious about her or not by how much effort he puts into seeing her. And by this age, we girls should have stopped being delusional and making excuses for lazy asses and should know how much effort shown constitutes a viable man and a viable relationship. I know. If it isn’t calling, isn’t visiting, isn’t writing, and isn’t planning, it ain’t yo’ boyfran, gurrrrrrl. And kind sirs, if you are not actively walking your ass over to see her, she’s going to find someone else who WILL, because she ain’t that desperate yet for yo’ lazy ass. Again, desperation is never sexy.

- You’re QUALITY, Not QUANTITY: 

Always remember: A little goes a long way, if your “little”— time, effort, energy, affection, money, passion— is quality. I’ve always preferred my men a little aloof— it helps keep the magic going. My last S.O waited until Date #5 to finally kiss me; the entirety of dates 1-4 I was constantly wondering what was going on, and the anticipation made me sparkle even more than the average girl trying to look good on a date does because I kept working for it. But the long-awaited kiss was so good, it was worth the wait. And you know what? All that time spent in good, intelligent conversation, learning each other’s likes and dislikes, food and movie preferences before swapping spit made us both sure that we liked the other— more than just a first date could have foreseen. They were quality dates. It was a quality first kiss. We were sure that the other was a quality person. Much better than a really awkward make-out session straddling the cup-holders in his car’s front seat post first-date beers would have been. A win all-around.

- How To Scabbard Your Sword— What Women Want:

Sorry, this isn’t about sex. I just thought that play on words would grab your attention for what will probably be for most of you the hardest concept to grasp. (Unlike grasping other things.) This is about what all women want. This is the secret that lands the nerdy guys the perfect 10s. This is the Rosetta Stone for understanding women. Cracking this is like cracking a Rubix Cube. So I don’t want to have to sit here and waits through eons of evolution for you guys to finally get it. Which is why I’m just going to come right out and say it to you:

Women just want to be saved. Or, at the very least, we want a partner in crime.

You know how in Million Dollar Baby, Hillary Swank kicked major ass? It was because Clint Eastwood was there in her corner, and he had her back. All women want a knight…white, black, red, or purple, it doesn’t matter to us. What matters is that we all want a champion— someone who is willing to go forth and do battle for us, whether it’s getting us that extra dollar off our soft pretzel at the mall that the salesgirl somehow forgot to credit us, or sticking up to other people to defend us. Because we’re worth it. As Frances Hodgson Burnett wrote, every girl is a princess, whether she looks like it or acts like it or not. If I do something, if I say something, you best believe I do it with 110% conviction, and all I want— and what I deserve— is to have someone there who will stand next to me and uphold those words and those actions.

This is where a guy riding up on his high horse comes in. I don’t need to be questioned anymore. I shouldn’t have to explain myself. What I want, what I need— what all women need— is someone as strong and courageous and faithful as I am to stand next to me and be there for me to lean on when I’m too tired to lead the charge, and have them stand up to the job. So be a stand-up guy. If you say something, follow through. Never make any promises you can’t keep; don’t lie. If you know something wrong is happening, stop it. If you see something unfair, call people on it. In return, I promise that any woman worth that title and her salt will be doing the same for you, because if you have my back, and I have yours, nothing in life will ever be able to sneak up on us and scare the crap out of us. THAT is what women find most sexy of all— reliability, safety, and partnership.

- Getting The Big N.O, or, Failure For Champions:

Then again, you could do everything right and still be turned down. It’s a woman’s prerogative to be fickle. Maybe she’s just gotten out of a bad relationship, or isn’t over her ex yet. Maybe she’s interested in someone else and doesn’t want to lead you on and waste your time. Maybe you’re just not her “type”…you can’t help that, but chances are you definitely will be someone else’s. Or maybe she’s just enjoying being single right now, and doesn’t want to think about getting involved with men or dating. But don’t let this dissuade you from trying again with a different girl— practice makes perfect, after all. Take a page from the Casanova-like diaries of the men I met while I was in Italy— with all the “ciao, bella”-ing that was going on, and all the flat-out rejections from those “bella”s, I thought it was a wonder any Italians ever managed to procreate. But as my Food and Wine professor told his class of 18 American girls, “If you say it enough times, someone is bound to say ‘ciao’ back.” That’s how he landed his American wife while she was studying abroad. See? It works. If Giancarlo could do it, I have faith that you can, too. Now, get out there, and be someone’s knight in shining armor. Or, at least, take you car through the car wash and go pay for the cute lady in front of you’s espresso at the coffee shop tomorrow morning.

Buona fortuna!

XOXO

—-

- From SATCG.

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November 1, 2011


It took me over 20 years to realize it, but dating does not mean tying all your hopes and ambitions onto one person or one (relation)ship…it’s a trail-and-error process of getting to know people in response for the human desire to not be alone and so when you finally HAVE narrowed down all your options and preferences, you know the perfect person when they find you.

Working in the jewelry business where you’re frequently dealing with couples looking at engagement rings and/or large purchases tends to result in developing a kind of 7th sense for being able to identify couples who will make it, and couple who certainly won’t.

It terrifies me when high school students come in to buy promise rings; I want to say to them, “Do you know what ELSE is out there? Do you even know what YOU really want in a partner for the next few years, let alone for the rest of your LIFE?!” Yeah, break-ups and some relationships suck in the early years of dating, but once you’ve done it enough, it’s CAKE.

Do I know what I’m looking for? Yes. Do I know what traps and pit-falls to be wary of? Sure do. Do I know what I expect out of my relationships? Absolutely. Do I really, really know what I expect out of my relationships? Do you want a list? Because I can give you one. Do I know what I can live without? Oh, yeah. Do I know what I can’t? What about “types”— do I know who I should shy away from, even when my lady-bits are screaming, “YES; TAKE ME NOW!!!” Oh, especially. And am I making wiser choices, decisions, judgement calls, and moves because of all those years of dating a gamut of men?

You bet your sweet ass. Bring it on, single men. I got this.

XOXO

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