Mom Says...

I’ve realized recently that in order to have a dating blog, you should probably date. Unfortunately I’m never approached by men so that’s impossible. I have gone a record 10 months without a single date! Sometimes I feel like I have a “ghoulie mask” on and I’m actually stuck in an episode of the Twilight Zone. Like the one where you think the lady is pretty and she’s in the hospital for surgery and then you find out she lives on a planet where everyone has pig noses. In my mind I’m not that bad, but to the outside world I could be “ghoulie mask girl”! I’ve piled together reasons why my mother thinks I’m single (minus ghoulie mask). I call this game “Mom says” yeah I know, clever. It’s fun and you should play this at home with participating parents.

Mom says- I work too much: As much as I love this *cough excuse* um reason, here’s how I can debunk it. DOESN’T EVERYONE WORK TOO MUCH???? Yeah almost everyone I know has very limited time because they work more than 40 hours a week at a high demanding stressful job or have families and jobs to attend too, or have like three jobs!!! I’m not the only one in Los Angeles with a career. I actually noticed in a meeting the other day with my fellow managers (side note: it was me and eight men, yeah.) that all of them are married. Yup, that’s right. Every. Single. One. Married! Ranging from the ages of 28-50 (maybe even older but I’ll be nice). They all managed to find time in between their “high stress” positions to meet someone special, date, get on one knee and propose. A few of them are even on the baby train, so they’ve also found time to reproduce. We all work a lot; America has turned into the all work and no play country. Employers expect their employees to be in the office for 9 hours, leave to go network until 10:00pm all the while available through email. It’s exhausting just thinking about it. But people do it and all the while date, get married and reproduce. I would like to think that I have actually created an awesome balance between work and friends; I even pride myself on it. My relationships (and beer) are very important to me and I would never let something like my job get in the way of them. I’m also lucky enough to have a boss that doesn’t expect me to live and breathe my job. But even if I worked a million hours a week (I’m pretty close), believe you me, if I were to meet a cutie-pie I would totally find time to go on a date with him.

Mom says- I’m too independent: Um, okay. When is a woman being too independent a crappy thing? So what this says to me is that guys actually like to date the super needy, naggy, annoying chicks? I beg to differ, and this is because I know a lot of ladies that are in relationships and they are totally not needy, naggy or annoying (or I wouldn’t hang out with them duh). Why would a guy NOT want to date someone that doesn’t care (and actually encourages) them to hang out with their friends, doesn’t text every second of the day (because hello I have a job), doesn’t want them to spend the night every single night (I like to sleep in the middle of my bed, alone thank you very much) and hates cuddling!!?? I don’t think so.
Mom says-I’m too picky: This is a little hard to understand just because she also tells me to never settle. Okay, which is it lady? And besides I wear a bicycle sweatshirt for God sakes, how picky can I be? With all of these “reasons” though, she also thinks that I live an awesome life of singleton and should enjoy it as long as I can. So there, mom says.

The New Threesome

You hear the phrase threesome and you automatically have so many lovely visions dancing in your head (well, if you’re a guy). Sorry to disappoint, but this blog entry is unfortunately not about THAT kind of threesome. I’m sure this is where I’ll lose a few of you. It’s about the new threesome that keeps popping its ugly head, the date threesome. Recently I met a guy at a friend’s bday party and we immediately hit it off with love of the same type of music and my love for beards. He had one and I liked touching it. Yes, I seemed to be a bit more intoxicated than I would like to be at a friend’s bday party, but it was cold out (duh). After a few hours of stroking his beard and discussing music, my friends and I decided to leave. It was 12:00am on a Tuesday and I had to be at my adult job and actually “with it” by 9:00am the next day. The stroking (not the dirty kind) ended with “I’ll find you” AKA the term men use when they don’t want to ask for your number, they find you and research you on FB before making a decision to ask you out or proceed with whatever it is first (this seems to be happening to me a lot lately, is this a generation thing? Or a defense mechanism? Whole other blog entry) After a few days of an awful hangover (I’m too old for that crap) and wanting to chop my head off he did exactly what he said he would do. He found me, messaged me and requested my friendship all in one loop of FB. I accepted his friendship even though I am a bit skeptical about “becoming friends” with a guy I have little to lot interest in on FB. I feel as though the dating process is someone getting to know me by spending time with me, falling for my funny and eventually learning I’m a nut case. Not finding out I’m a bit of a coo-coo clock from just a few status updates. I need them in the web first, so when they find out I’m a bit odd, they just think it’s cute. So with hesitance, I accepted. I replied to his email (about bands) and went back and forth a few times. Nothing out of the ordinary, nothing too serious. Which for me is good, I like slow. Really really slow. I actually like to be friends with someone first and then maybe if we like each other or whatever, then maybe something can happen (see this is part of my crazy) I haven’t had a boyfriend in so long that I think I forgot how to actually date and what it’s like to like someone and have them like me back. So the slower, the better. So the pace it was going was fine, no pressure, and no expectations. He also doesn’t live here, so that calls for total slowness. After a few weeks of emails here and there (always about bands) he was coming to my city for a visit. He informed me through good ol’ FB that he would be in town and would like to get a drink. Ok, I can handle that, a drink is fine. I like to drink and I don’t do it alone (well not all the time), so a drink might work. We figured out a night to get this drink (which was kinda hard for me, because I make time for men around my friends availability, reason #54 why I’m a freak) and after a few things popped up, I realized the night decided wouldn’t actually work. So in the mist of us trying to figure out another night, he gave me the option of one, we get a drink on a night he is hanging out with a mutual friend. A threesome date. What the crap is that I thought. Am I not cool enough or interesting enough to spend time with just me? Why do you have to bring your friend with you? Is it just in case the conversation with me sucks, you have someone else to speak to? I don’t get it. I took great defense to this and it made me not even want to hang out at all. So I made up some excuse and that was that. The story came up with a girlfriend of mine from high school. She’s also single, a few years younger than me and also has zero luck with the opposite sex. We were swapping dating stories when this one came up. I told her everything word for word and even told her that this had happened to me AGAIN a few weeks later, a guy wanting a threesome date with me and a mutual friend. She listened to my story with all the horror in my voice and simply looked at me and said “maybe they were doing that so you would be comfortable” WHATTTT????? Really? How did this explanation not even cross my brain for even a second? Am I really this jaded or is she just a complete optimist? I immediately write guys off when they want to bring along a “friend” even when I know the friend, because I take it so personal. Maybe my friend is right, maybe I’m just super cynical and need to ease up a bit? Or maybe I just suck and guys want a buffer. Whitney Houston (may she rest * sign of the cross*) said it best “How will I know?” I don’t know Whitney, I just don’t know. Is it time for therapy yet?