September 28, 2012

This isn't Downton Abbey

...But if it was, I would totally marry Cousin Matthew.

Ok let me fill you in. A few weeks ago, my first cousin got married. It's always a blast going to Chicago to see the family, and this time was not without its crazy. I had so much fun partying with all my younger cousins, who are now totally adults (which weirds me out). At Sunday's brunch, a VERY bizarre rumor starting floating about the party...

Long story short, my grandma tried to set me up with one of my cousins. She told everyone.
I've officially hit a low point.

Seriously, grandma? This isn't Downton Abbey, and times are not that tough.

"It's far enough removed," she said.

No. No it's not. I will not date members of my family. We are related by blood.

I tried to google the cousin relationship, but I got confused.

You can love your cousin, but you can't LOVE your cousin.

September 27, 2012


I'm going to another bachelorette party tonight. And then on Saturday, I will attend my third wedding of the season. I was invited to four. Each two weeks apart from the next.

So I have to go to a bunch of weddings, celebrate love, and spend a buttload of money...but I can't even drown my single sorrows in ice cream because I have to look all cute in hopes of a single man at one of the events?


This made me want to call attention to the greatest tumblr, sent to me by a co-worker and then again by my Lil Sis. That's right. The #myfriendsaremarried tumblr.



You said it, Britney.

Ps. Congrats to all my newly married friends! I love you! (And I hate you....just kidding. Kinda.)

September 26, 2012

Um, I think I know you.

Oh boy. This was bound to happen.

I got a message today that was actually pretty clever, and I almost responded. But then I took a closer look and...
Uh oh. I know him.

At first I thought, well maybe I should respond? Maybe it's some weird sign that we should have hung out in college. Should I tell him I know who he is? Nope. It's just too weird. Ignore. 

And just like that I remember that online dating isn't exactly anonymous. I wonder how many more people I know are out there!

Ps. I totally went and creeped on him on Facebook after. Anyone would do that...right?

September 25, 2012

Takin It Back, Tuesdays #5

The Aussie

Exactly one year ago, The Aussie came to visit me in Los Angeles after nine months of long distance dating and a lot of Skype. I had just moved into the apartment that would be his home in less than six months, and couldn't wait to show him my city. The trip didn't go as well as I had planned. [Understatement] I thought about writing about how he fucked it up, but instead I would like to share the story of my 'Crazy Girl' moment while he was here. 

I planned the most fun-filled two week trip for The Aussie's stay in LA. What? Me overplan? Never! What? Make a calendar of all the places we'd go and see? That's not like me at ALL! On this particular day, we were set to go to Malibu. We got all dressed and ready and went down to my garage. My car wouldn't start. I panicked. Why isn't it starting?? C'mon little cougar! Naturally, there is always something wrong with the cougar. This time it was the battery.

But instead of playing it cool, I had a total meltdown. In front of man who had only spent 12 days physically in my company...ever.

"Why is there always something wrong with this fucking car?? I never get a break! This isn't how today was supposed to go!! How are we going to get anywhere while you're here?? The car rental place isn't even open today! Ahhh [insert Crazy Girl crying sesh] I hate my life! I just wanted to have a nice trip...OMG you must think I'm so crazy! Look at me total freaking out in front of you. You're never going to want to be with me after this. [more crying] I totally ruined this day!!!"

And then AAA came and changed my battery. And we went to Malibu. And this is not why we broke up.

I'm sorry for being so mean to you, little cougar. I still love you.

But not The Aussie. 

September 24, 2012

Why don't you have a Boyfriend?

Want to make a single person feel even shittier about being alone?
Tell them you don't understand how they are single.

It seems that people of my parents' generation think this will bring comfort. I can't tell you how many times I've heard how awesome I am at family gatherings.

"I can't believe you're single! You're so smart and talented and pretty! Why don't you have a boyfriend?"

That's a very good question. 

I don't know.

September 21, 2012

Ace a First Date: For Guys

After my latest string of first dates, I thought it might be time to spell it out for the guys out there. Here are my tips for a great first date:

  1. You pick the location. ~ Make it somewhere convenient for her, but also somewhere you are familiar with. Girls like to learn, so maybe somewhere interactive, or a place where you know "the best cocktail the bartender makes" or "the chef's specialty."
  2. Call (I did not say text!) to confirm the day before. ~ She'll be impressed, trust me. Texting isn't enough for before a first date. She needs to hear you are excited in order to also feel excited.
  3. Open doors. ~ It may seem simple, but you'd be surprised how many times it doesn't happen. Chivalry is not dead, people!
  4. Be romantical (okay that's not a real word, but I love it), without over-doing it. ~ First dates are hard. Especially if it's a blind first date. But make sure it feels like a date, not drinks with a friend. Sit closer to her. Find a way to let your hands or legs "accidentally" brush against hers. If she likes you, she will respond. But don't choose an overly romantic setting or a super expensive restaurant. Only bad can come of it: a) she'll be uncomfortable or b) she'll expect a $200 dinner every time you take her out!
  5. LISTEN. ~ Fucking hell, just try. Make eye contact. Engage. Nod your head. Stop staring at her boobs and wondering what she looks like naked.
  6. Have fun! ~ I love to laugh. If the date is fun, but lacking some of the other nine items I've listed here, I'll most likely give him a second chance date.
  7. PAY. ~ When you're officially a couple, you will spoil each other, but until's your wallet. Don't even put her in the uncomfortable state of wondering if she'll have to pay. And don't let her see the bill. That's douchey.
  8. Offer to walk her to her car. ~ She may or may not say yes, but it's the right thing to do.
  9. If you want to see her again, tell her. ~ If you're too nervous to say it in person as the date is ending, you should definitely include it in your follow-up text. My most recent date had the perfect example of a follow-up text: "Hey, I had a great time last night! [Insert joke referencing something we talked about on the date.]" The joke shows he was LISTENING. Good boy!
  10. Stop it with the three day rule. ~ We hate that shit.

Is it weird that I'm kind of hesitant to post this, knowing some of the guys I've dated will now use my advice to woo other girls? Typical Lindsay.

September 20, 2012

Guys with Accents

I'm such a sucker. Aren't we all?

But after my first date with The Southern Gentleman, I'm not sure I can date a guy with one...again. Maybe it's an actor thing, but whenever I'm around someone with an accent I start taking it on. I'm a chameleon! 

The longer I sat with him, the harder it was for me to stop myself from saying "ya'll." Bad enough that I just returned from a visit with my family in Chicago. My accent is so confused! I don't know who I am anymore!

Sorry, Southern Gentleman. It's not going to work out. Also, I would have expected a man from North Carolina to open doors and walk me to my car. And not be 10 minutes late. 
happy fall ya'll
photo courtesy of

September 19, 2012

How awesome...for you.

I lined up three different first dates. Some people accuse me of doing it for blog material, but truly I am a romantic. I want to fall in love. It just hasn't happened in a while, and I might as well go out and try to meet people. Also, I officially gave up on The Busy Builder. I've gotten a lot of messages from people rooting for that to work out, but the truth can't MAKE someone like you.

I need some distraction, don't you think? And I actually got a little excited about Bachelor #2, a Jewish lawyer who wrote that he was six feet tall, and I actually believed it! We had a nice little phone conversation about a week before our date, and I felt like he and I would get along well.

The day before the date, the details hadn't been decided and my OCD planning anxiety took over. I texted him to see if we were still on. He called me right back. The Amateur seemed very cheery on the phone and then, "So I know we were set to go out tomorrow, but...I MET SOMEONE!"

willy wonka meme

Oh, ok well cool. Good for you. He went on and on (and on and on) about meeting this great girl, and how he didn't think it was fair to her or me if he went out with me. Amateur. Let's do the math here. We've been talking for approximately 1.5 weeks. That means he met this girl within 10 days...and he's already limiting his options?? Amateur!

I was happy for him, and told him I understood. But he didn't stop there. He proceeded to give me dating advice. He said he didn't have much luck on dating sites. He suggested I go out to some of those singles mixers (the Jewy ones) since apparently that's where he met Miss Perfect. Thanks a lot, pal. 

Welp, I got rejected before he even met me. That's a first.

September 18, 2012

Takin It Back, Tuesdays #4

The Mormon

I googled Jews in hell...
and Rachel Berry popped up.
I love her.
In honor of it being Rosh Hashanah (Jewish New Year to all the goyim), I decided to write about the first time I realized religion might matter in a relationship. Oddly, The Mormon is the one boyfriend I had that everyone remembers. My family treated him like their own, my friends all met him, and even my family in Chicago remembers "that one guy with the tongue ring." Yes, he was a Mormon with a Metallica tattoo and a tongue ring. I was 19; don't judge me. He worked at Dave & Busters...what do you expect? Note: he still works there, I think. Dodged a bullet!

I'm gonna go right ahead and say that The Mormon didn't come from a family with a strong moral background like I'd always imagined in Mormonism. His mother was an adult convert...after leaving the Hell's Angels. She HATED me because I am Jewish. And because she knew I had a tattoo (two at the time). You can't even imagine how much this would shock me. I mean, I'm a parent's dream girlfriend for their son! It was a constant battle with The Mormon, because he never believed she had it out for me.

One day after The Mormon's mother "treated" him, his twin brother, and me to a Del Taco dinner, she asked me a very strange question.

MM (Mormon Mom): "Are you nervous?"

Me: "...about what?"

MM: "Going to hell when you die."

Me: "Well actually, Jews don't believe in hell. So it's all good!" No that was just in my head. What I really said was, "Umm..what?"

Geez I really hated her. And you know what? Her son wasn't exactly the perfect Mormon role model. He had a tattoo she didn't know about (but he never defended mine). And he definitely didn't follow the whole, 'no sex before marriage thing.' Every time I pass that big ass Mormon temple on Santa Monica Boulevard, I think of how bizarre that relationship was. Where are the nice Jewish boys at??

Happy New Year!

September 17, 2012

Texts I don't understand

(But I do. Because they're all about sex.)

At 3:00am, "U awake?" ~ Well, now I am. There's just no other reason a guy could want to talk to me right now. And no, I'm not getting out of bed to drive over. My makeup is off; the glasses are on. When will I learn to turn my phone on silent at night? 

"Have a great day!" ~ The Busy Builder can deny this all he wants, but I believe this text message has ulterior motives. It's part 'Don't forget about me,' part 'Yes, I'm still thinking about last night.'

The winky face aka " ;) " ~ I'm to blame for this one. I use it all the time. But I still don't know how I feel about being part of a generation that uses emoticons to flirt. So awkward. This specific winky face comes into play when you text something, and I just reply with the winky face. No words. Just the winky. You know what's up!

"What R U up 2?" ~ Sometimes this happens around 11am. I'm at work. What do you think I'm doing? Sometimes this happens around 4pm on a Sunday. The next thing I know I'm eating ice cream in my backyard with him, wishing I'd shaved my legs that morning.

"Hey" ~ Okay I know what you're thinking. "Hey?" Is no text message safe from a sexual innuendo? But I'm not talking about your normal day to day "Hey" from friends. This happens to me riiiiiiight as I'm getting over a guy. I haven't decided if it's really a sexual reference or just a power play, but it really fucking annoys me. He's bored of the new girl he left me for and decided to browse his phone contacts and take a trip down memory lane. And if he's really lucky, I will respond and he's one step closer to sex. Ugh.

cat reading blog

Totally unrelated photo, but check out one of my blog's kitty fans! 

September 14, 2012

September 13, 2012

Rookie Mistake

The Writer called me a few days after our first date. The conversation seemed pretty normal until he said, "So there's really no way to say this without it being awkward..."

Apparently he was so intrigued by my blogging efforts, he went home and googled, "Bloggiano's." The most recent post read: CHECK OUT MY NEW BLOG. And he clicked. Oopsies. 

The Writer was very uncomfortable with me writing a dating blog. He asked me not to write about him. Double oopsies. And as he told me he felt like he'd just read my diary, I couldn't help but laugh on the other end of the phone. (I had just posted about bj's.) I expected that to be the end of The Writer but he asked me if I had plans for the following week. Whaaaaaat? You still want to date me? Oh I get it. You read that I might put out on the third date. I told him I wasn't so sure I was comfortable with him reading it...he barely knew me, and probably didn't get my humor in this blog. I suggested we take the weekend and think about what it meant for us, but really I never planned to talk to him again. The next morning, my phone dinged:

Oh. Well, since he's definitely reading this: Sorry I posted about you even though I told you I wouldn't. It was just too good!

Most of you are on here because you clicked a link from my Facebook. Honestly, if a guy wasn't cool with me writing this blog, our relationship probably wouldn't last anyway. Shoutout to all the guys from my list reading this blog and being super mostly cool about it: The Trenchcoat, The Bad Boy, The Playboy, The Busy Builder...

 I'll be more careful what I say on dates in the future. Rookie Mistake.

September 12, 2012

The Girl with One Eye

I woke up from a very drunken Saturday night with my makeup still on. Fuck. And why can't I see properly?? I'm missing a contact. Seriously, Lindsay? Get your shit together. I stumbled into my bathroom and reached in the box where I keep my contact lenses. Empty.

Ever since The TJ's Guy told me my glasses were funny, I haven't worn them in public.
More importantly, I had a date that night. I definitely couldn't wear my glasses on the date, so I grabbed my prescription and ran to Lenscrafters. You've never seen a more sad face than the one I gave the salesclerk when he told my contacts were "special order only."

I nearly cancelled my date, but I knew it would come off as a super lame excuse. So I did what any girl would do: I drove to the date with my glasses on, parked my car, changed into my ONE contact, and went to my date.
...What? Normal girls don't do shit like that? I don't believe you.

The Writer was a nice, Jewish guy. I didn't feel any chemistry between us, but I still had a good time. Even with one blurry eye. He moved to LA to make it in the entertainment industry, which is generally a turnoff for me. We talked about writing and I mentioned how much I love it, but that I've only dabbled in blogging. I even told him I used to blog about restaurant life. At the end of the date, I knew he was interested. He asked about a second date, and I didn't say no. I figured I could give it a second chance. I walked to my car, put on my glasses, and drove home.

Little did I know the HUGE mistake I'd made...

September 11, 2012

Takin It Back, Tuesdays #3

The TJ's Guy

I created two dating rules for myself after The TJ's Guy:
  1. Never date anyone who lives walking distance from your home. 
  2. Never date anyone who works at your local grocery store, unless you are okay with driving further to get food when it all crashes down.
It was like fate kept bringing us together. I worked with The TJ's Guy in 2005. In 2008, he showed up as the "wingman" for a date I went on. The next morning, he showed up at brunch as my neighbor's high school friend. We really hit it off, but nothing came of it and soon after...I moved away from Newport Beach. 

In 2010, we were reunited at Tr@der Joe's, his place of work. I was hiding from The Playboy's ex-gf who hates me when I saw his cute little hipster glasses. Nothing is better than having the girl your ex dumped you for watch you get your flirt on with a super hot guy...even if he is a grocery store manager. 

The next day I received a Facebook message from The TJ's Guy. I saw he was "in a relationship" and was a little bummed. But being we were neighbors, he invited himself over to catch up. Don't worry, it was very friendly. Shortly after, he notified me that he was no longer with his girlfriend, and invited himself over again. I don't remember if it was even summer, but we spent a lot of days together laying by my pool listening to music and drinking wine he brought home from work. I'd say he's responsible for my love of hipster music. And maybe hipsters in general. He had a ridiculously hot body.

A lot of weird shit happened in my time with The TJ's Guy, and this post would be way too long if I described it all. But you should know (and sorry, mom, I know you think this is x-rated), The TJ's Guy was a sexaholic. And I got a lot of rugburns. And he was also a compulsive liar (he never broke up with his girlfriend). One night he texted me to pick him up from a bar and when I declined, he took a cab to my apartment and hopped the fence. He banged on my door at 1am, waking up my roommate and our dogs. Then he freaked out that my dog was "watching us." After that, I had to start driving 15 minutes away to get groceries.

Since he is the ONLY man I truly hate, I'm going to disclose that he had the weirdest penis I've ever seen. I'm not exaggerating when I say it SEVERELY curved to the left...even when hard.

When he'd climax, he would announce: "Ya never know where it's gonna go!" and become surprised when his load shot to the left on his sheets. I know! I know! It's going to go to the fucking LEFT! One time I even reached out and caught it. A friend of mine and I named that "The Reverse Spiderman." Think about it.

I sort of want to email him this post. Hey there, TJ's Guy! Remember all the photos you texted me of your crooked penis? I showed them to ALL my friends!

September 10, 2012

I deleted you.

some ecard drunk texting
I'm somewhat notorious for a drunk text or two...or ten. Whatever. If a guy is on my good side, most likely a late night text will mean he's getting lucky. If he's on my bad side, better watch out.

See I'm the "cool girl" who will never start fights when I first start dating a guy. But if he's fucked up a few times, I unleash the bitch on him when drunk. All that anger just builds up and coupled with whiskey, it's a recipe for disaster. Just ask one of my best male friends who received a text from me after a fight that read:

The Busy Builder had it coming. On the eve of my best friend's wedding, I decided to delete his phone number to prevent drunk texts ruining my's about her, not him. He'd already lost privilege of having his name saved in my phone; I only save numbers of people I'm sure will be around for awhile. But on Friday as I sat getting my nails done with the girls, my phone dinged. Noooooo! I tried to ignore. The rehearsal dinner got started, and it turned into a complete debauchery. If you knew my friends, you'd understand. The groom bought us shots of patron and it all went downhill from there. He texted me, and I responded:

Me: You're annoying.

BB: What?

Me: I deleted you.

BB: What? On your phone?

Me: Yes. If you don't like me or want to date me, don't bother texting me.

BB: Just cuz we aren't meant to be doesn't mean I don't like you or want to hang out. There's a difference.

...and then I passed out.

His text made absolutely no sense to me. But of course this dumb girl texted him the next morning and the rest of the weekend. And then I jokingly asked him to bring me ice cream on Sunday as I sat in my hot backyard, totally hungover.

Knock knock.

September 7, 2012

Please Mr. Postman

Is it normal to think your mailman is totally hot? Well, I do. 

My heart broke a little the day Mr. Postman told me he would no longer be on the route that brought him to my office. He's so dreamy. Our new mailman is nice, but he doesn't have the smile of Mr. Postman. 

But there's a glimmer of hope! Lately he's been coming back to our office on random days instead of the new mailman. At last, one of my co-workers mentioned the thought that had been swirling in my mind for months:

"You should date the mailman!" 

I agree. I mean, why not? Think of all the perks he must get as a government employee! And all the smiles and sunshine he takes part in every day must mean he's happy. 

Unfortunately, I can never tell what day he'll be walking into my office. He almost ALWAYS catches me eating lunch at my desk.
"Oh hey there. Enjoying your lunch?"
[Mouth full of salad] "Oh umm yes. Have a good day!" 

And I don't even know his name! And he probably doesn't know it's my dog barking at him every time he comes to the door. Yes, Mr. Postman's new route includes my home...guarded by the c-block. 

September 6, 2012

Can you see the cervix?

Part of being a single girl is making sure the lady parts are in top health. Off I went to my annual check up with the Lady Doctor, who was running about 45 minutes behind on appointments. Great. As I glanced around the room at the couples reading Parenting Magazine, every woman with bellies popped out from the baby sucking the life out of their insides, I couldn't help but feel like THEY were judging ME. Yeah, that's right. I'm here without a baby in my belly. Without a man. 

After waiting 30 minutes, the nurse notifies me that my Lady Doctor (who is a lady herself) will be accompanied by a male medical student. "Do you mind?" she asked. Considering how long I'd been waiting, I decided to let the student be part of my appointment. Whatever. It's for science.

I went into the cold, sterile exam room and was asked to undress completely. Paper tops and skirts are all the rage in the Lady Doctor's office. By the time she came in to greet me with The Med Student, I was freezing. I shook his hand and tried not to look him in the eye. It's for science. He's going to be a doctor. The conversation started pretty normally, considering this was my first visit with a new doctor. She asked all the usual questions:
  • Are you sexually active?
  • Are you on birth control?
  • Do you use condoms?
  • When was your last period?
And then she saw my boobs and started asking about my reconstructive surgery. (Another story, another post.) The Med Student tried not to look. And I tried not to look at his face. So I stared at his nametag and...OH MY GOD. I KNOW HIM! My face must have turned bright red, and I could feel the sweat dripping on my paper shirt. Fuck. We went to high school together. Does he recognize me? If he saw my chart, he knows everything about me! Why didn't he say anything??

And all of a sudden it's time for her to insert the speculum for my pap smear. Gentleman, go home and kiss your girlfriend/wife after you click that link. It's no fun. The Lady Doctor leaned back and asked The Med Student, "Can you see the cervix?" I died.

At least he knows I have a normal, healthy cervix. He saw more than any of the guys on my list ever have. Congrats, Med Student. 

September 5, 2012

Must Love Meat

I've dated my fair share of vegetarians, and it's fine in the short-term, but really there's something about it that I just couldn't handle FOR-EV-ER. I may be a California girl who loves a good organic salad and quinoa, but I need some red meat in my life. To show potential suitors just how important hamburgers are to me, I use the photo below as my main photo on dating sites:

Sometimes I feel a little strange using it, considering The Aussie took it on my trip to Australia. I've never been sure if my huge genuine smile can be attributed to him, or the massive burger with fried egg topping. It could really go either way. This photo seems to attract all kinds of interesting "ice breakers" from guys online:

"Hey baby...I'll give you some meat" the obvious response, and sometimes guys don't get the Asian Tourist pose and actually insult me for using a knife and fork on a burger.

So readers, I challenge you to a caption contest! Give me your best shot!

September 4, 2012

Takin It Back, Tuesdays #2

The Sweaty Guy

One college summer, I lived on campus while taking summer session. It was the perfect scenario:

9am-noon: School
12:30-3pm: Pool
5-10pm: Work
10:30pm: Try to catch up to my roommate, who lined up the number of shots she'd already taken while she waited for me to get home.

Rinse and repeat.

I was lounging by the pool when a friend introduced me to a six pack. Okay, I'm pretty sure there was a face and body attached to the six pack, but I swear I only saw abs. He was hot. A transfer to our school to join a sports team. I flirted my way into him getting my number, and then I flirted my way into a summer fling. He was interesting, smart, and very worldly...but there was just one thing: he was REALLY sweaty. I'm not one to judge, since I have a very efficient cooling system myself, but The Sweaty Guy wore a wristband to soak up his mess. At first I didn't mind it because sometimes he'd lift his shirt up to wipe sweat from his brow and I'd get a peek at those abs.

My roommate always knew when The Sweaty Guy was spending the night; I'd turn the air conditioning down to 68 degrees. One night I reached the breaking point. He was on top of me and the sweat fell onto my face. Ew.

"Hey baby...let's move to the shower. What do you think?"
No guy turns down shower sex. This is a fact.

He never knew my true intentions. [Insert evil laugh] Sorry Sweaty Guy! 

September 3, 2012

My Date with a Pro

No, you guys. I did not solicit a prostitute. Times are tough, but they're never that tough.

I believe that the best way to get over someone is to crush on someone else. So I got my butt back online and responded to a message from a guy who seemed nice. I couldn't tell if I was attracted in photos, so I figured we should just meet and decide then.

The Pro invited me out on a Friday night to a cool little gastropub near my house. I put on my big girl heels and met him outside the bar area, which was packed. He was a little guy, but his smile kept me attracted. We decided to venture somewhere else since the bar was so full (Guys, you should really plan for that situation) and walked to another nearby spot, which was also standing room only. Shocking. It's Friday night. We walked a little bit farther to one more restaurant, and decided to stick it out and get drinks while we hovered for seats.

Our conversations were pretty smooth until he asked me about my experience on the site. I told him I'd been on more than one date with two different guys. He replied that he's been on JDate (not the site we met on) for TEN years. Wait...what?


Apparently, his Jewish mother suggested he join and he's been on there ever since. He considers himself something of an online dating professional. Umm...but he's only been on a couple second dates...EVER. I'm sure he saw the shock on my face; I couldn't hold it back. "No relationships have ever come from your online experiences in ten years? And wait, you're you've been on there since college?" 

Check please!

At least my cocktail was delicious...I went home at about 10pm that night only to receive a text from The Busy Builder minutes later. Oh, fuck my life.


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