Debunking the Bar Myth

Sometimes it seems as though all I ever hear is my single friends complaining about how impossible it is to meet someone worth dating at a bar. Occasionally, I just nod along, listening to their rant about the bar scene. Other times, I try to respond with a hopeful "You'll find someone eventually!" But what I normally say to these friends is simple: you can meet people anywhere.

And that includes a bar.

I think bars get a bad rep. Sure, I have had less than delightful experiences at bars, many of which include being the recipient of unwanted affections or engaging in conversation with the annoying, over-inebriated stranger. However, to those who say that you can never meet anyone worth dating at a bar, I must ask this: do you go to bars? And subsequently, are you worth dating?

If you answered yes to the above questions, then all I ask is that you consider that perhaps if you frequent bars and are a decent, dateable human being, then there must be a chance that there are other people at bars just like you -- also decent and dateable. Shocking revelation, I know.

The thing is, it really is a matter of getting to know people as best as you can, given the circumstances and the location. Not all bars are created equal, of course, but ultimately, all you can do is strike up a conversation, learn a little bit about the other person, and give them a chance. So they might not end up being a potential match. So what? You're at a bar -- presumably with friends, as opposed to venturing out alone -- so go hang out with your friends and let it go.

At the same time, completely dismissing someone wanting to strike up a conversation based on bar-prejudice alone could mean missing out on someone interesting. For as many questionable interactions I've had with people at bars, I've had twice as many engaging and enjoyable ones. I've met some fun and interesting people at bars -- some of which I am still friends with today. TRUTH.

I think back to my favorite success story, which is not mine personally, but a friend's: we girls were out one night, and my friend ended up meeting a guy at a bar. Personally, I think the rest of us girls were doubtful about their interaction, considering the amount of alcohol flowing; however, something must have clicked between my friend and this guy. They exchanged numbers, went on a first date, and come to find out: he's a gentleman, a volunteer with the Boys & Girls Club, has a good job, and an apartment. Yes, people, he is the quintessential nice guy and my friend met him AT A BAR.

And that is not some sort of miracle. It can happen to you too. Give bars a chance. At the very least, you'll get a good cocktail out of it, right?

The Boyfriend Card Part Two: A Story

A few weeks ago, I went out to a bar with a group of girl friends on a Saturday night.  It was exactly what you’d expect: a night out in the pursuit of drinks and dancing – just us girls!

That usually doesn’t happen though. My friends and I have a tendency to make friends whenever we go out. Half the time, it’s as a result of us unashamedly asking for a seat at a table or pushing our way to the bar. The other half of the time, it’s probably just because a gaggle of girls ordering shots generally attracts some sort of attention. This night was no exception. As we chatted amongst each other at our table, having ordered a very embarrassingly named shot that required embarrassing methods for consumption, we unwittingly were the recipients of a quite a few glances, but also the attention of some guys. One such gentleman bravely approached my friends and I, and as I explained our drink decision, a faux-friendship was born. I say “faux-friendship” because it’s the kind of friendship that is great and provides lots of fun – but only for that evening.

And so, our new friend became an extension of our group for the evening, as did a few other guys who joined in our fun. As I talked with our new friend, I was confronted with that age-old question: “When do I tell this guy that I have a boyfriend?”

As we've gone over before, I knew that I could casually drop the boyfriend card into conversation, but I also realized that the boyfriend card, at this point in the night, was irrelevant. I was part of a group of girls – even if I was “taken”, my other friends weren’t, and thus, if finding a girl was this guy’s “goal” for the evening, talking with me, boyfriend or no boyfriend, didn’t matter because I was still his “in” with the other girls.

Sure, this guy was primarily focusing his flirtation toward me, but I did what any good wingwoman should do: bolster up her friends, and highlight the reasons they’re so great in an effort to deflect his misguided attention. The boyfriend card was a non-issue: I wasn’t getting drinks from this guy, and we were just having a conversation. Does everything need to be about hooking up?

We divided our time throughout the night, spending part as as we originally anticipated, shouting “woo” while waving our hands in the air like we just didn’t care, while spending the rest hanging out with our faux friends.

When one of our faux friends suggested heading to a different bar next door though, I faced an issue: my object of flirtation for the evening wanted to come with us. At first glance, this isn’t really an issue. Bars are open to the public; anyone can go. However, I knew that by inviting this guy to tag along with me and my friends I was suggesting to him that I wanted to spend more time with him because I was romantically interested. Essentially, the subtext would become the text. So this was the moment. I had to drop the boyfriend card so that this guy wouldn’t waste the rest of the night following me around under the guise that I was single, and ready to mingle. Right?

I tried hinting to him that it wasn’t worth it to come to the next bar. “We’re going to a total dive! If I wasn’t with my friends, I’d probably just go home and go to bed!” I surmised.

Didn’t work.

“We’ll probably have to wait in line, and by the time we get in, it’ll probably be closing!”

Also didn’t work.

In a last-ditch attempt, I did it. I threw the boyfriend card. I don’t remember exactly how I worded it; I just remember that it was extremely awkward and not at all organic to the conversation. Most likely, I said it like this, “I HAVE A BOYFRIEND.” Despite this ungraceful effort to be honest and not lead a nice guy on, I don’t think he even heard me, because he followed my friends and I to the next bar, where, he didn’t even end up getting in.

So moral of this story? Well, first of all, I don’t think blogs are necessarily conducive to sharing morals. But, for the sake of this rant, I will try to provide some moral perspective. I suppose I should have worked the “boyfriend card” into conversation earlier in the night. I think I was so desperate not to let the guy down, and distracted by my own efforts to play wingwoman that I failed to recognize that our faux friendship had expired shortly after he focused his attention on me alone.

It’s one of those weird dimensions that only exits in “bar land” – you can’t assume that everyone is hitting on you/interested in you, but you should also be aware that some people are there to meet someone and thus, may actually be hitting on you/interested in you. If you were to meet someone in a grocery store, you wouldn’t necessarily drop the boyfriend card amidst a discussion on whether to buy generic or brand-name peanut butter. You’re at the grocery store. However, when you’re at a bar and you meet someone, the expectations of conversations among people there are different:  knowing whether or not the person you’re talking to has a boyfriend/girlfriend does change things because the expectation of that conversation may be to see if you’re romantically compatible with the other person.
Sure, you could meet your next boyfriend/girlfriend at a grocery store, but you go to a grocery store with the intention to get just that: groceries. Not your future spouse. People go to bars to hang out, chill, have fun and dance (if you’re like me) – but it’s also frequently considered a place to meet people, and more commonly, meet someone you might want to date. Not every person I talk to is going to be someone who wants to date me (I’m great, sure, but not that great), but it does help to be sensitive to the fact that certain locales require a specific sort of social protocol. In this case, throwing the boyfriend card at the right time.

When the Crazy Cat Lady Is Your Boyfriend

Because any man who has a cat is a winner.
http://dailycaller.com/2010/11/19/the-sweet-sixteen-of-awkward-family-pet-photos-slideshow/pet002019403/

I have always been wary of men who consider themselves “cat people.” They are a special breed of man, akin to the “renaissance man” or metrosexual in the sense that they do not rely on masculine stereotypes to build their confidence. They are in tune to more than just beer, basketball, and babes. They have multi-dimensional interests, and are emotionally mature and open-minded. However, cat-loving men are still distinct from their evolutionarily progressive male counterparts. You see, as much as they might be enigmatic and interesting, cat-loving men are just that: men who love cats.

So what’s my “beef” with cats and ultimately, the men who love them? Well, cats are confusing creatures –the Rubik’s Cube of pets. Unlike with dogs, you have to earn a cat’s affection. Cats never automatically like you. With their judgmental eyes and quiet footsteps, they seem as though they’re plotting world domination. You can be sure that they’re sizing you up, deciding whether to kill you or allow you to co-exist with them. And that’s the thing – they decide what your relationship is going to be like with them, not the other way around. Ultimately, you can never really know if they actually like you or if they’re just trying to get you to feed them.

I’m suspicious of cats, and as a result, suspicious of their owners. If cats are judgmental, tyrannical, and potentially looking to take over the world, then what does that suggest about the owners who love them? These feline attributions don’t so much as transfer onto their owners as they do suggest that their owners are willing to be submissive, begging for their cats’ love and affection so as not to be taken out upon their cats’ world domination.  Who could love such a creature – and more importantly – could I love someone who loved a cat? I had never really come face-to-face with a single, male cat owner until I went to my boyfriend’s apartment, a few weeks after our first date.

I hadn’t known he had a cat. It wasn’t until I went to my boyfriend’s apartment for the first time and saw the litter box that I realized I might have to re-consider the whole relationship. My boyfriend introduced his cat to me: a girl cat, named Gary. He cooed and talked to Gary in a baby voice, telling me how “beautiful” she was, petting her and avoiding her attempts to scratch him.

Despite all of this, I really liked this guy. After all, he was a man of the 21^st century: charming, smart, a great cook, capable of doing his own laundry, and sarcastic. I realized if I wanted to have the relationship, I was going to have to come to terms with the cat.

As I spent more time with my boyfriend, and subsequently, his cat, I realized: cats aren’t so bad. I learned more about Gary and her personality, and became more in tune to the kind of cat that she was. Sure, I was still nervous from time-to-time that Gary would claw my eyes out in my sleep, but when she’d cuddle up next to me on the couch, I felt an immense sense of satisfaction. Here was this creature, known to be judgmental and finicky, choosing to return my affection. I realized that my expectation of immediate, unconditional love devalued that same love. Earning Gary’s affection taught me something: having to put work into a relationship and upholding a set of standards isn’t a bad thing. Instead, having a set of standards meant that I could have a better and more fulfilling relationship. And yes – a cat helped me realize that. I earned the love and trust of my boyfriend’s cat, and at the same time, the love and trust of my boyfriend.

Over a year later, I still might be wary of cats, but I am proud to be dating a cat person. Recently though, at the doctor’s office, I sat in the examination room waiting for an explanation as to why I haven’t gotten over my cold.

            “It’s your boyfriend’s cat,” she said.

            Go figure.

Tis the Season for Lots of Pressure

In the weeks leading up to Christmas and New Year's Eve, I find myself carefully planning out gifts and which events I'll be attending. I accept invitations, plot my outfits, and calculate how much money I can afford to spend on gifts and parties. I love spending the holidays with my friends and families, I really love going to parties filled with said friends and family, and I absolutely love giving gifts to those I love the most. With that being said, between the commercials, the Christmas music, and the Christmas countdown (on almost every TV channel), there is so much pressure to do the holiday season right.

Let's start with Christmas: you're expected to buy gifts for your family and friends. Certainly, you may have different arrangements with your family and friends, but according to just about every media outlet, you're expected to come up with the perfect gift for each person in your life. Gift-giving is supposed to be about finding something special for your someone special, because you want to show that person how much he/she means to you. Giving a gift is an opportunity to say "thank you" or "I love you" or even "You're awesome - here's a gift!" But it's becoming increasingly difficult to do that during the holiday season without feeling stressed and anxious.

Gift-giving guides and in-store arrangements suggest that this is the "perfect gift for mom" or that your boyfriend needs a new watch, not that book you know he's been gushing about for the past few months. There are gift-giving guides according to how much you want to spend -- as if you monetary value correlates to how important someone is in your life: $500 for mom, $300 for your brother, $200 for your sister who you've been fighting with, $400 for your dog because he is your best friend, naturally. However, this is hardly representative of the purpose of gift-giving or of the intricacies of your relationships. After all, isn't it the thought that counts? 

The over-commercialization of Christmas and the over-sharing of social media makes for a big mess of it all. You aren't just giving your gift in the quiet comfort of your home. Your gift may have to stack up to everyone else's gifts on Instagram or Facebook. I've seen Facebook posts boasting about Christmas and Hanukkah gifts, or Instagram pictures proudly revealing said Christmas loot. Throw in the fact that almost every website, blog, and store has a gift-giving guide which, though very helpful at times, seem to take the thought out of giving gifts in the first place and suggest what is the best gifts for the people in you life that they don't even know. 

There's so much pressure to get the gift right  or to buy the most presents. But the pressure doesn't stop there. The gift-giving might come to an end after Christmas, but New Year's Eve opens a whole new can of worms. New Year's Eve is arguably the most important party night of the year. It's your one chance to leap into the new year at your most fabulous, ensuring that the year to follow is one equally as fabulous as the party you attend in order to ring it in. It's one night. One night! You have to have your dress ready, champagne chilled, cover charges paid, and a cool party to attend -- not to mention, it needs to be fun. That is a lot to ask for. And it's not that it can't be done. New Year's Eve was once one of my favorite holidays, but that was because I spent in in the company of friends sans cover charge and in my pajamas. 

When you put so much money, effort, and energy into one night, building it up so as expecting it to be one of the best nights of your year (and last nights!), you're bound to set unrealistic expectations that end in a slump the next day as you nurse your hangover, and for some of us, human bites. Again, this is a night that's going to be on display. Expect pictures documenting every half hour of the night to appear on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram, so you better make sure that your hair looks good, you're parting with attractive people, and you're somewhere fabulous.

How can we just enjoy the night without letting all of the pressure -- the pressure that we have to have fun and have an amazing night -- get to us? Maybe it starts with lowering our expectations, or maybe it just starts with lowering the cover charges to get into all of these places. Either way, I think it starts with remembering what the night is at its very core: New Year's Eve. This goes for Christmas too. What are these holidays in their most basic definition? Even if you aren't religious, both holidays, and all holidays for that matter, are an excuse and a celebration to be with the people you care about the most, or to be with people that could potentially turn into the ones you care about most. These holidays are a time to showcase our love for each other and enjoy each other's company over great food, a bit of bubbly, and hopefully, some festive music. I think once we recognize what's beneath all of the bells and whistles, the advertisements, and hype, we can enjoy the season and relax. FINALLY.

The Boyfriend Card

This is only semi-relevant to this blog post... If by wizard's chess you mean "flirting at bars" and if by normal chess you mean "talking to people" and if by "muggles" you mean you are in a relationship and by "wizards" you mean single people???
Did you get all of that?

Sometimes, I feel as though the bar scene is akin to that of a game of chess.  Now, I don’t actually know how to play chess, aside from very basic knowledge and a failed attempt at game play in middle school, but I at least know that in chess, your movements are entirely dependent and reactive to those of your opponent. You size up your opponent, try to calculate their next move, and in return, develop your own strategy in the process. And really, how much different is this then our interactions with each other at a bar? Not much –though, probably a lot less intellectual.

Once you’re locked into this flirtatious chess game with your new bar-friend of choice and you’ve determined that they want to check your mate*, what happens if – insert ominous music here – you have a boyfriend? Sure, you’re enjoying the exchange with your pseudo-new-friend and find the banter to be above par for a conversation noticeably under-the-influence, but you’re not exactly going to drop your current beau in lieu of a flirtation with little potential to exist outside of the two beers you’re sharing.

So that leads me to ask: when do you drop the boyfriend card? You know what I’m talking about – when do you bring up the fact that, yes, although you are reacting to his moves by flirting and smiling and laughing at all of his not-so-funny jokes, you actually are not interested in progressing form the bar to the bedroom? The way he's making his moves and playing the game -- touching your arm, making eye contact, complimenting to you -- suggests that you need to react with moves that continue the game-play without leading him on but also, without making him ditch you solely because you have a boyfriend.

You must tread lightly, my friend -- just as you can't move certain chess pieces at the beginning of the game, you can't just make the preemptive strike by bringing up the boyfriend. Not every guy who talks to a girl at a bar is trying to hit on her. And while it's pretty likely that this guy may be hitting on you, it's not a given. By moving the "boyfriend" piece at the beginning of the conversation, you run the risk of sounding pretentious and narcissistic. You're talking to someone who you, at this point, are getting along with, and run the risk of alienating. Some guys -- believe it or not -- will still talk to you even if you have a boyfriend, so start the game off with the boyfriend card, and you risk losing out on having a nice conversation with a nice person.

Okay, so you can’t open up the conversation with a good ol’ fashioned, “hey, nice to meet you. I have a boyfriend.” That much has been established. Yet, I’m fully aware that the further the conversation progresses, the more likely it is that the omission of your non-single-status could be an item of contention. Obviously, you want to be truthful, but you don't want to lead this guy on. He keeps moving closer to capturing your pawn, and lady, your pawn has already been captured.* 

Be subtle. Throw your boyfriend into the conversation in a subtle, yet gentle way. Everyone knows that, when you're at a bar, you run the risk of flirting with someone who already has a boyfriend/girlfriend, but that doesn't mean that they're solely out for some pirate's booty every night. Sure, there will be the occasional guy who forfeits the game as soon as he finds out you're already the object of someone else's affection, but who wants to continue to talk to those guys anyway? For the nice guys out there who are having a good time talking to you regardless, there's no reason to lead the poor chap on. If I'm talking about basketball with a guy, I'll slide in a boyfriend reference by saying, "Oh yeah, that's my boyfriend's favorite sport, even though I don't really like it much" or if we're talking about a particular place, I'll mention "yeah, my boyfriend loves that bar." It's not in-your-face, but it's enough to let the person know that, alas, at the end of the night, you'll be going home to someone else.

Ultimately, the point is not to sound so contrived. Hell, you're just having a conversation with another person. Be friendly, be nice, be you. When you're talking about yourself, inevitably, it happens that you bring up a friend or a family member, so just throw the boyfriend in there too. There have been times when I've mentioned that "I have a boyfriend" early on in the conversation and have been met with the response, "Oh, I wasn't trying to hit on you." Even if said guy wasn't actually trying to hit on me, I made the rest of what had been a good conversation awkward. I've since just tried to go with the flow. Next time you're out and chatting with a friendly fellow, just be sure that you're reading his moves and responding with the right ones -- yeah, you're taken, but you're not opposed to some more banter. After all, I'm at a bar to engage in fun conversations and have a good time. And aren't we all just people trying to have a good time?

 *Bad chess puns. Don't hate me.

** Unrelated asterisk -- don't throw the boyfriend card to get rid of guys you don't like. That's mean. You're above that.

In Defense of Valentine's Day

from someecards

Single ladies, get your Netflix queued up with chick flicks and have the wine handy. Non-single ladies, be prepared for a sub-par romantic attempt on behalf of your significant other to acknowledge my favorite (and only) time of the year to binge on heart-shaped, chocolate-covered marshmallows. Rejoice – it’s everyone’s favorite holiday: Valentine’s Day!

PSYCHE! Of all of the year’s holidays, I’d be willing to bet that Valentine’s Day is the most hated – not because it kicks the single population while they’re down (assuming they’re even “down” – being single ain’t so bad, kids), but because it seems to exist for no real apparent reason other than to fuel greeting card sales during an otherwise dismal month. Aren’t we supposed to celebrate love every day? Shouldn’t we be buying cheesy teddy bears and heart-shaped boxes of chocolates for our loved ones at all times of the year?

Last night, a good friend of mine called me up to chat as we were both stuck in horrendous Boston traffic. He told me that he hates Valentine’s Day – despite the fact that he has a girlfriend. He just doesn’t see the point. Of course, he cited my previous reasons (as many other guys do): he does nice things for his girlfriend every other day out of the year, so why does he, deliberately and preparedly, have to do something just because it is February 14^th? Certainly, St. Valentine wasn’t going around marrying people in hopes that one day his act of kindness and courage would be commemorated with the exchange of Justin Bieber greeting cards between lovestruck tweens.

My friend has a point. All of one’s romance shouldn’t be saved up for one occasion, just because CVS has lined its aisles in pink- and red-themed candy on a particular day in February. However, I told my friend that he couldn’t not acknowledge Valentine’s Day – especially when his girlfriend had already remarked that she loved the holiday. Sure, there is no law that says Valentine’s Day must be observed, but we all know it’s happening, so why not indulge a little bit? If you enjoy doing nice things for your significant other, then why would you be bothered about doing another nice thing for him/her (however small or grand the gesture may be)?

I’ll admit, it’s always better when one’s motives for being romantic are a bit more organic, but Valentine’s Day has carved out a specific time in the year for some QT with you and your partner-in-crime. What's wrong with one day out of the year that encourages and endorses romance and acting on romance? Don’t take it all so seriously and just use it as an excuse for more loving, touching and squeezing.

As my title suggests, I'm sure it’s clear that I actually like Valentine’s Day. Granted, I like all holidays in general. Let’s be serious – do I strike you as someone who would turn down a celebration of any sort? I actually don’t have any Valentine’s Day plans tonight, though. Yes, I do currently have a boyfriend, but things come up, people are busy, and there just isn’t the time for that horse-drawn-carriage around the ‘burbs after a long shift at work. However, we will be celebrating Valentine’s Day at a later date, because I do think it is important to carve out time for the ones you like/love (whether it is a new beau, all of your closest pals, or a furry friend).  In the meantime, if you are looking for me, I will be at CVS buying their entire stock of Valentine’s Day themed chocolate.

And I will leave you with this...

I suggest you do what the video recommends at the end...

Nothing says "I love you" like emailing your sweetheart a cat video via YouTube.

If You're Lucky Enough to Get a Date While Living at Home...

I don't like looking at this picture very much...
but it seemed relevant... sadly.

By now, you should know that I live with my parents – if not from the fact that you have read multiple blog posts, then from the tone of self-pity and shame that haunts each of my posts. And while this actually doesn’t pose many problems, it does become a bit of an issue with one certain aspect of my life: dating.

Now, I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. I am not a female lothario. I could hardly be classified as a man-eater unless you want to get into the consumption and gender of my breakfast, lunch and dinner.  However, if you have even semi-interested and involved parents, then you might see how living at home can be the cause of chronic “awkward turtle” moments at the beginning of whatever budding relationship makes its way to my front door.

Any time I have gone on a first date that involves a suitor picking me up, my polite date has (usually) had the common decency to come to my door. If I lived alone or with other 20-somethings, this would not be any sort of production. In fact, it would probably be standard practice. But with my parents? This seemingly innocent moment in my fledgling of a relationship becomes fair game for them. What should be the moment my date and I lock eyes and ignite some sort of romantic fire instead becomes a verbal assault and battery as this male suitor faces my inquisitive “roommates.”

Once I can finally maneuver past my parents, shuffling my date past their barrage of questions and threats, I can breathe. Sort of. At least now, if anything embarrassing happens, it’s my fault. The date is back within my control (for the most part) and the only person I have to blame for its subsequent failure is myself. If he managed to look past my sort-of innocently-curious parents and then later seems to be exiting out of the restaurant bathroom window after I talk to him? Well, we all know the cause of that.

For the most part, he and I can laugh it off and attribute it to my parents’ always-endearing love for me, and then move on to our inevitable awkward chit-chat and sizing-up of each other… Until my date brings me home.

As he will pull up in front of my house, I make sure to check for any possible beady eyes peering out of windows. My second-check is for my dog, whose first reaction to anything within his line of vision from the window (or front yard) is to bark – loudly. When he does this, I know that whoever is within even a mile’s earshot will be notified that I have probably returned home and am experiencing that awkward moment at the end of a date where we need to decide if we’re going to shake hands, hug, kiss or just run as fast as possible away from each other. If this last parting moment between me and my date happens in the car, then at least I have a steel casing protecting me from the vision of my parents, dog and hopefully neighbors. However, if my date is really trying to step up his chivalry game and takes me to the door? I cross my fingers  and hope that my brother isn't positioned just so on the couch that he can see out the window and onto our front doorstep – a front row audience member to some guy’s attempt to end the date with something more than a nice pat on the back and “call you never.”

If I manage to make it through those final parting moments without any witnesses, I still am not yet in the clear. Believe me, I have tried to dodge past my family’s almost-meddling interest while en route to my room – but it somehow seems that I can never make it into my room before being met with a “so how was it?” And I’ll be honest, I usually don’t mind this. In fact, I do enjoy a little recap of the day/night’s events – if not just because I probably like to hear myself speak, then because I need someone to know all of the events to later help me overanalyze everything. But in those rare moments when I want to savor my experience all by myself? I will inevitably have to share something to appease the curiosity of my parents. I can’t spend a few hours with some person they have never met and then NOT tell them even a smidgeon of information– is that even possible? Any silence on my part may lead them to believe that I have just spent an hour playing mini-golf and getting ice cream with a sociopath.

Trying to keep things from my parents in general is nearly impossible for me. Not only am I a terrible liar, but I respect and love my parents and want them to know what is going on with me. I will admit, though, that there are times that this can be difficult. After all, I cannot separate what I want to share with what I don’t want to share because I live with them. They see the events of my life unfolding simply because they’re around and they can see who picks me up, who’s calling me on the phone and even who sends me flowers (even though that rarely happens -- they can still see it!).

Let's be real here. When I order something online (usually shoes... always shoes), my parents are usually the ones who retrieve it from the front doorstep and know about its arrival before I do. I can't even keep the new purchases in my life a secret from them -- how am I supposed to keep a budding relationship, something that is decidedly more important than shoes (barely), from them?

It is one of the trade-offs of living at home. Although I have been living back at home for over a year now, I am still trying to find a way to balance my new adult (sort-of) life with the comforts that come from moving back in with your parents. I am not the same person I was when I lived there back in high school and my dating patterns are certainly more different. No -- I definitely do NOT bring anyone back to my house after a successful date -- but still, even if I felt the need to extend my date to an evening romp, do I really even have a choice? (And, parents, I know you are reading this, I am not trying to offend you! -- side note: they are probably the majority of my readers) I guess the issue here is that I do not have the choice to choose the information and potentially filter it or share it the way (and on the timeline) that I want to because they see everything happening in real time.When I am hurt by a guy or when I go through a breakup, they see the tears and the pain -- so even if I want to keep it to myself, I really can't. Of course, I always eventually tell them what's going on, but I never have a moment where something can be just mine when I'm located just down the hall from them. I do not have the luxury of having a first date, processing it and then calling up my mom to tell her the highlights because there is no time to process.

I am forever grateful to my awesome "roomies" for letting me stay at home and save a few bucks, so I don't mean to sound unappreciative -- because I am! But I do think that part of growing up and becoming more independent means having to work through situations and sift through information on your own. You will be able to formulate your own resolutions to problems and your own opinions about people and information before it becomes offered up for dinner table conversation. However, it is part of the experience of living at home and learning to manage with current circumstances.

I'd also like to point out I realize that I also am cramping my parents' "dating" habits. My mom said to me, "Did you ever think that maybe you get in the way of us wanting to...[be romantic]" (I'm editing her sentence, but you can interpret that as you wish) to which I could only reply TOUCHÉ!

Thoughts? Comments? Smacking your forehead with your hand? Doh?

TMI on Thirsty Thursday

(from sheknows.com) -- Even dogs get thirsty on Thursday
And yes, I know this picture has nothing to do with the post

It feels as though every time I go to a bar, I come back with a story. True, sometimes that story is incredibly dull, other times that story is wildly amusing -- but on some occasions (and this one in particular), I come back with a story that leaves me contemplating the so-called progress of humanity. As I've claimed on multiple posts, I love talking and I love meeting new people; so when I'm at a bar, where people clamor about drink in hand and with considerably less social armor, I am more than willing to strike up a conversation with anyone who wishes to engage in one with me. Luckily not too often, this leaves me to be the victim of some bad pick-up line or a feeble attempt to get my phone number. However, I find that most of the time I have a new character to add to my increasingly lengthy and poorly-selling-future biography, preferably in some chapter called "Cocktails Are to Blame."

In my most recent bar escapade, I was engaging in what I like to believe is a national pastime called "Thirsty Thursday" -- a beloved tradition where working guys and girls let off some steam at a local watering hole on the wannabe-weekend-Thursday. My commitment to this activity waned as I graduated and found that waking up on Friday mornings at 7:30 was exponentially more painful after a few cocktails the night before; however, in the interest of the #YOLO movement, I've been trying to do my best to uphold a certain standard of "fun" in my life.

This week, I met up with a regular Thursday night companion of mine -- a close guy friend from high school who always makes me feel as though I'm ninety years old whenever I turn down his "going-out-to-bar" invites. I mentally prepared myself all day for this night out, so by the time 10PM came, I was already in my leather pants and 4-inch-heels, and armed with enough cash to get me suitably buzzed. Normally, when meeting my friend at the bar, I will text him "where are you," "are you in the bar yet," and other overtly insecure text messages to prevent the dreaded solo entrance and subsequent awkward search of my friend inside the bar. However, for whatever reason, that night, I didn't care that I was alone and decided to own my temporary loner status, standing at the corner of a bar with my beer in hand.

I did the usual scope-out/creeping of the bar -- I am always amused by the interactions among friend groups and guy/gal pick-ups. I try to get a sense of who's on a first date and who has been together for too long (easy to pick out if you see someone rolling their eyes at their companion and on their tenth drink). While doing this scan of the room, I was called out for being alone by a man standing close to me at the bar. With his slicked back hair and seedy smile, I tried not to stereotype, but I could sense that this was not the kind of guy who was going to ask me what my thoughts were on the current political climate and then compliment my feminist ethics. 

Instead, he asked me what I was doing -- presumably to find out if I was waiting for my boyfriend -- to which I responded, "standing at a bar." He used this opportunity to compliment me, telling me that I was doing a "good job," and I told him that "I have been training my entire life for this. Thank you." Our  brief interaction had caught the attention of another gentleman at the bar, who had noticed my accent, or, more accurately, lack thereof, prompting him to ask me if I was from around here. "Yes, why?" The more polite gentleman inched closer, probably to ol slick's dismay as my attention was diverted from his predictable lines.

In only a matter of minutes. the floodgates had been opened. I had been alone, unguarded and open to advances. My lack of companion acted as a signal to my solo male counterparts and they took this as an opportunity to become a part of a bar duo. 

Now, I understand that none of this is a particularly novel bar story. It is pretty typical, but I suppose where things began to stray from the norm came from what I found to be a surprisingly no-holds-barreds strategy on the part of these two "gentleman."

Case in point -- let's take a look at the opening fellow, whom we shall call "Slick." I found out, very quickly, that he was 31 and on the prowl. Not only that, but when I suggested that this night needed to get more exciting, either with a bar-fight or a dance-off, he willingly offered himself as a participant. He said that he wanted to be punched. I told him that I thought he definitely deserved a punch in the face, but, he not one to pick up on not-so-subtle-hints, went on to describe the length of his "member," claiming to be a part of the 9+ inch "club." Maybe it's just me, but when did this become normal conversational fodder? I have only been out of the dating game for a mere 4-5 months, and yet, it seems to me that discussing phallic measurements is something that should be reserved for not just a date, but maybe (generously) a third date, preferably as a joke (like "ha ha, jk, lol"). 

Slick was not yet done with his inappropriate conversation topics. At one point, even though my friend had added himself to this conversational mess (by the time my friend arrived at the bar, he was joining me and these two guys,) I ended up alone again with Slick beside me. He began to ask me a much-too-profound question for a Thursday night at a bar: "What do you want out of life?" I'm assuming he thought I'd respond by outlining a specific career choice, but instead, I told him that "I just want to be happy." He didn't like my answer, finding it far too ambiguous, so proceeded to tell me what he wanted out of life: "I want to be married with three kids - two boys and one girl." I'm pretty sure as he told me this he slurred his words. And you know what? That would have been okay... if he had stopped there. How he made the transition to this next comment, I don't even remember. I just remember being horrified. He then told me: "My ex-girlfriend is getting an abortion."

Yes, let that soak in for a minute. This complete stranger, who had already informed me of his supposed crotch measurements and life goals had just shared some extremely personal (and not even his OWN personal) information with me. I told him that "that's not something you share with a person you just met at a bar" and promptly ended that conversation. My friends, that is what we call: TMI (too much information). I don't know what about that serves the purpose of picking up a lady at a bar, but I can assure you, it doesn't work. It won't ever work. Do I have a label on my forehead that says, "Please have wildly inappropriate small talk with me. Reward: my phone number" -- (assuming my phone number actually could be considered a reward.)

I thought things might be better with Bachelor #2 -- we can call this gentleman "Peach," as he hails from Georgia and he had a bald head. He was incredibly nice and engaging. He had the banter thing down and even after I made the obligatory mention of my boyfriend, he still hung out with me and my guy friend for the remainder of the night -- something that is a rarity in the bar scene. Our small talk was seemingly harmless: the usual what do you do for work, what are you up to tonight, let's comment on things going on at the bar, etc. However, at some point, the conversation veered into "too personal" territory. As Peach and I began to discuss the concept of "one night stands," (he was not trying to invite me to one, for the record) he went on to tell me some details about his life that were a bit jarring -- I had only met this guy less than an hour ago. I found that he was 27 (okay), divorced (eh, that's still not a big deal), had a 7-year-old kid (ummm, still alright) and also had a vasectomy. What? Is it common for guys to share the status of their inner-man-tubes? Is that sort of thing supposed to come up in chit chat? And furthermore, why did I need to know this? How was this relevant to me? Oh yeah, relevant so that he could tell me that he wasn't sure he could actually have a one-night-stand with someone he just met because he doesn't like to wear condoms when engaging in intercourse and... well, I'm going to stop that right there for the sake of maintaining a PG-13 status for my blog, but I'm sure you can infer a few things about the rest of that conversation. So, COOL. Thanks for letting me know, Peach. Pertinent information and a lovely way to mark your memory in my mind for eternity. The fact that he later told me I was the prettiest girl at the bar did NOT, in any way shape or form, detract from my bewilderment at his sharing of these earlier facts. I. Just. Met. You.

Now, I tell you about these interactions, because I feel as though both prompt the question of WHY? If you're a single guy, I mean, I have to know -- why would anyone tell this to a single lady? Granted, these guys had both found out I had a boyfriend, so that was already off the table, but does that still even make it okay? If I hadn't disclosed my "taken" status, would they have told me these things? I don't see how sharing this information with me could have led these guys to believe that I would look upon them more favorably. Was it their attempt to turn me on? If anything, it turned me off... I may be turned off for years at this point and may have to re-consider any sort of nostalgia for my intermittent single lady days.

Should I just keep my mouth shut from now on or, if I choose to continue to engage in conversation with people at bars, should I realize that this might just have to be expected? 

Until next Thursday...

The Month-Long Facebook Purge

thanks again someecards - no need to encourage my Facebook creeping

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times: it was the age of social media – a time where your friends are just a poke away, your social life is public domain and how you look in your profile picture determines how many dates you can get. Welcome.

With only a click, we can become instantly engaged to 500 of our closest friends or check up on the intimate lives of famous celebrities summed up in 140 characters. Everything and everyone is so accessible. I find out most of my news – local, national and even personal (happenings with friends or friends of friends) through social media.

So what happens when you disconnect from one of these major platforms for more than 24 hours? If you can even last that long? Well, I did it. I committed to over a month of Facebook-free life, and I live to tell the tale. But you may find yourself asking, why do it? Why purposefully sever an integral part of my life, one that feeds my inner gossip-monger and piques every single creepy curiosity? Ah, of course – the dreaded break-up.

When my last relationship ended, I spent the first 24 hours crying and then the next were spent snapping into survival mode. It was over, and to ward off the next few weeks of incessant “Facebook stalking,” I did what I needed to do: I deactivated my Facebook.  Was it because I have no willpower? Because I needed to prevent myself from checking-up on my now ex-boyfriend’s every musing and shared life detail? Well, yes and yes. Twenty-years ago, I may have called him and hung up, but now I had the new temptation to sift through photographs where he looked cute and decipher the hidden meanings of his statuses, hoping that they pertained less to a new lady and more to his devastation over our break-up. How is a girl supposed to move on when her ex’s face is plastered all over her news feed?

Answer: she can’t. And so, I embarked on this month long journey of Facebook detox, and I realized something – my world didn’t end. In fact, it kept spinning and I was okay; perhaps, even better than okay, I was happy. Perusing the latest news and photos on Facebook, I was constantly comparing my life to those carefully curated posts by my Facebook “friends.” Ah yes, there’s a friend on a cruise with her extremely good-looking, rich, doctor boyfriend having lunch with Ryan Gosling. Oh, and there’s a status update about a guy I used to go to school with announcing his new scientific discoveries on the moon and his subsequent Nobel prize. What have I done today? Oh yeah, I ate some leftover pizza, kissed my dog and didn’t cry about my ex-boyfriend. Wins all around.

After disconnecting from Facebook, I was less concerned about what others were doing and more concerned about what I was doing. The temptation to see what my ex was up to disappeared and that interest evaporated, as it was no longer presenting itself to me in updates on my news feed. And isn’t that the way it should be? I could focus on myself and not linger on the end of my break-up. Even more so, I was no longer baited by alluring statuses or heavily edited photos that my friends were posting, and therefore, no longer feeling as miserable. I forgot that each person has individual control over what they post, and obviously, they are only going to post things that portray their lives in the way they want to portray them. Facebook posts and tweets are heavily manipulated representations of our lives. If I want to come across as a spontaneous, fun-loving gal, I need only post photos and statuses of doing spontaneous, fun things. Similarly, if I wanted to garner sympathy or attract a sense of camaraderie from my friends over my current break-up, I could easily post broken-hearted statuses representing my side (and my side only) of the break-up. Essentially, we Photoshop our lives and only show the sides we want other people to see – deceptive and manipulative, maybe, but also very protective and defensive, naturally.

By no means is this necessarily a bad thing – I’m not exactly advocating for full-disclosure of your life’s every detail, good or bad (And there are those people who post too much. Do I need to know about the regularity of your bowel movements or read your comments as you live-tweet a funeral? No, I most definitely don’t), but this Facebook-free month allowed me to take a step back and re-evaluate why I was going on Facebook and what I was doing when I was on there.

When used for good (and not evil!), social media is a great tool for connecting to friends, but also connecting to communities all over the world. I didn’t need to use Facebook as a way for me to wallow in self-pity and misery. I was already miserable enough. What I needed to do was get offline and be with my friends – my REAL friends. Re-reading Facebook comments, looking at shared photographs and over-analyzing my ex-boyfriend’s Facebook statuses would not have been productive, by any means. Had I kept Facebook for that month, I have a feeling I would have held on to something that had already been long gone. However, de-activating my page was a sort of way of forcing me to start moving on and stop relying on social media to keep me engaged and connected with people, when what I really needed was offline support. Social media is fun, but being social is more fun.

True, I have since re-activated my Facebook. I’ll admit, I occasionally spend too much time reading statuses or looking through photos, but I try to remember why I use Facebook and keep it limited to those activities.  Do I Facebook stalk my ex-boyfriend? Well… I realized, that is what the “unfriend” button is for – for now, I have learned to co-exist with exes of all sorts (boyfriends, friends, etc.) on social media. Until the next break up?...

How to Make Friends

Friendships: an important component of our lives from the very first day we meet someone who is neither imaginary (sorry folks) nor our parents. Once we hit school-days, we go on a friend binge -- suddenly, every person you meet has the potential to be your "best friend forever," a phenomenon that happens regardless of whether you're in first grade or a freshman in college. It seems as though every time you enter a new phase in your education, you're faced with the prospect of new friend-making. These people would be your "elementary school friends", your "middle school friends" and then even your "high school friends". Of course, there was overlap if you stayed in one place for your whole life or if many of your friends went on to the same secondary school with you, but each time, you were creating your inner-circle.

 The same thing happened when we went to college. Just think about freshmen orientation, for example: you participate in icebreakers, learn too much about everyone in your group, and then are encouraged to meet as many people as possible in your first few weeks of school with the countless numbers of activities being held for you and your fellow college peons. It is a phase of binge friend-making -- sometimes these friends stick, sometimes they don't, but regardless, within four years, you have now added a group of "college friends" to your relationship repertoire. But outside of these friendship-forging institutions, is there room for new groups of friends?

I constantly think about this as someone who admittedly loves to meet new people, go on first dates and strike up conversations with strangers. How do I integrate these new people into my lives? Is there more room for me in their life that is already divided into "home/high school friends" and "college friends?" Sure, some might say "the more the merrier," but when your loyalties have been to these groups for so long already, is there a way to add your new post-grad friends to the mix? And even more to think about: how do I meet someone and let it be known that I want them to be my new, adult friend?

It may seem silly to think about, but it's not like dating. You meet someone at a bar, it's clear that you two have some sort of attraction, and then you go on a date. Can this happen for making friends? I like the concept of a "friend-date" in theory, but that doesn't mean that the person I want to "friend-date" is going to like it as well -- and more so, they'll probably think I'm a weirdo. But why can't this happen? Essentially, you could meet someone at work, at a bar, in line for coffee, and hit it off. Sure, it isn't romantic chemistry, but it is a sort of friend chemistry, the one where you bond over something and realize that you've developed some sort of rhythm that could translate into a potential friendship. Then what? Can I ask that person to hang out? I feel as though most people would think I am hitting on them -- regardless of gender. 

Don't get me wrong, I have made some friends since graduating, and it did happen organically. Although, I will admit, these were all work-relationships at first. For example, my time spent in retail was made exponentially better by my fellow mall-slaves. We all happened to be the same age, started chatting and took our work-relationship outside of our fish-bowl enclave in the mall and to a restaurant for after dinner drinks. We realized that "hey, this is fun!" so we did it again and eventually we had developed a new friend group -- work friends (despite the fact that few of us actually work there anymore).

But outside of work, how do you do it? I feel like it can be inevitable to befriend someone at your job out of the sheer fact that you spend so much time there and it makes the work experience better. However, friendship can be created outside of the cubicle walls, and how do you take it to the next level -- from well-acquainted stranger to new pals? 

Sometimes I feel like it can be difficult to do this, since people do have many of their friendships in place. Heck, most people already have their best friend set and secured by the time they're ten years old -- how is a new person supposed to weave their way into your life when there is seemingly little to no apparent vacancy? I guess you could counter all of this by saying that if someone wants to be your friend, it will happen and I don't need to go around having this existential friendship crisis, but presumably, people have certain friend roles already filled at a certain point: the best friend role is usually taken early on, as well as all of those other token friend spots (your go-to shopping friend, your go-to partying friend, etc.). Is it even possible for a new friend to have an important role in your life if those roles were given to earlier friends based on longevity? Can someone you just meet have the potential to be a best friend -- even if you don't have years of loyalty (yet)? Similarly, is it possible to become part of an already established friend group, or will you always feel like an outsider?

After all, as post-grads, we're (most likely) in our twenties and that means that we have years and years ahead of us. This also means that we are going to meet many more people in our lifetime and add some more friends to our circle. We are hopefully a bit more wise than we were in years before and are also better equipped to choose our friends and weed out the frenemies. What do you think about making friends as a post-grad? I realize that this post provides more questions and speculation than answers, but I think these questions are all valid. Sure, maybe this all sounds like I'm a whiny loner and am incapable of socializing (this would explain why I have a blog). However, I'm excited about the prospect of adding more friends to my life as I survive the post-grad years. Is it okay for me to apply my skills of "seduction" to the realm of friend-making -- modifying my flirtation to imply a wanted friendship (I know how creepy that sounds)?  Or am I just over-thinking it and need to let things happen organically? I'm assuming I should go with the latter, but given that a friendship is agreed upon, will I ever be able to hold an important role in that person's life as a new friend?

Alright, alright. Enough with my questions, I know. With all of this over-analysis and mumbo-jumbo, I will leave you with this: