I’m pretty obsessed with this image for a variety of reasons:
One being that this lil bitch (on the left; Mary Kate Olsen) is dating a 42 year old French dude (middle; Olivier Sarkozy). I could do without the French because
I’m xenophobic (jk jk, I love everyone) I find the accent inherently smarmy (and do not get me wrong, I LOVE smarmy; I just like the smarminess to come from personality and not intonations in speech). But, basically, she’s living the dream. She just shot to the top of a list I just started making of people whose lives I’m trying to emulate (the other people on the list are girls in rap music videosand anyone who has ever been in an american apparel ad). Guys peak at 42. Girl knows whatsup.
The second being the obvious, amazing fact that she is strolling down the street talking on her blackberry and smoking a cigarette in front of her dude’s daughter like she’s walking by her damn self. (I mean, ARE they walking together?? Is this even her boyfriend? Could someone possibly confirm this?) Like, what next MK? Are you going to show this girl the best bathrooms to do coke and vomit in? The child is obviously very impressionable- she’s already wearing her hair in the same weird, middle part, pin straight way and dressing like she’s a stage hand.
It is just a very amazing thing to witness (through a computer screen, days after the fact). If you don’t find it amazing, we are different people and you are a person who doesn’t know what is amazing and what isn’t. Those are just the facts.
Also, she looks like Danny DeVito and she doesn’t give one fuck.
My friend told me that he texted a girl he slept with (a mere three months ago) asking if she wanted to hang out again (three months later; great guy) and she responded saying she had a boyfriend and they were very happy together.
She found a person to wife her up.
With whom she is HAPPY.
In three months.
Did I miss a class or something?
Found this book today.
AM ALREADY LEARNING SO MUCH:
Earlier, while I was waiting on line at Equinox for a kale, lettuce and spinach juice (Important: I’m on a diet because I’m going to LA in two weeks), I turned to my left and saw some dude giving another dude a really long hug. They were hugging for between 45 seconds and a minute… which is a really long time for anyone to be doing anything, let alone hugging, let alone two grown men hugging.
I was minding my own business (crying a little bit because of something that I just don’t even have the time to get into right now) when all of a sudden - inexplicably audible through my headphones that were blasting some lewd rap song - I hear, “excuse me.”
I sort of recognized that it was one half of the hugging dude duo, so I ignored it (Not that I really would have acknowledged any person otherwise. Though, I will say that, in hindsight, I give him a lot of props for not touching my body to get my attention… which seems to be the go to move for a lot of people interested in talking to me. (That may or may not have something to do with the fact that the last time i wore a shirt that covered my abdomen was like, idk, when i was wearing onesies out of necessity and not “fashion”))
He repeated himself and I thought for a second how difficult it would be for me to pretend like I hadn’t heard him, when I had heard him (TWICE!) and he was standing inches away from me, because I can’t control myself. I immediately became so self conscious and all I could think about was what a normal person who actually hadn’t heard someone say something would do in this situation (which, FYI, is nothing. Or, continue breathing) and I was drawing a complete blank, so I just turned around and was like:
him: hi. you have such beautiful eyes. they’re… amazing. like when i walked in i was like… wow.
me: that’s really nice. thanks a lot.
Then he thanked me… for receiving his compliment…
him: thanks for accepting my compliment so nicely… people in new york are always like [makes some ridiculous face that i wouldn’t entirely equate with the human race, let alone people from new york city] and it’s nice when someone is just like… that
WHAT. EVER. DUDE.
So, I’m not really sure even what that means since I don’t get the whole “eye” / “beautiful eyes” thing. I don’t even know what my dad or my ex boyfriends’ eye colors are. But, ok; Thanks. And, usually I don’t accept compliments, I outwardly and aggressively refute them or demand that they be taken back, so I guess he was right to thank me.
Let’s also not forget, though, that I was crying. My eyes were wet with little pathetic tears. I was standing at a juice bar at a fucking gym I don’t even go to, waiting to get a drink made entirely of vegetables… and I was crying. I was crying. And this guy was telling me that my tear soaked eyes were beautiful, that my little almond shaped tear portals were amazing and that I was so nice to meekly thank him for his kind words.
So, okay. There we were: just two people, one sad crying girl and one possibly gay, sad crying girl fetishist having a chat in a gym in the west village.
He asked me if I had just taken a class because, I mean… what else was there to say?
I told him I hadn’t. Then! in a truly frightening manner, we both asked at the same exact time if this was where the other worked out.
For some reason he ignored me (though I’m sure it is, which is awful for my life and necessary avoidance tactics) so I answered - in a predictably, grossly oversharing manner - by telling him that no that was not where I worked out and that I don’t work out and that I was just there to get juice and were they cultivating a garden to pick lettuce and kale from because it was taking so long (and, god, so much more. like, a lot more).
Then he asked if I was busy or late or in a hurry or something and I said yes and he said he was about to go to a yoga class… which I am going to refrain from mocking (though I do strongly disagree with men doing yoga earnestly) in favor of putting this out there: DA FUQ ARE YOU DOING GOING TO YOGA ON A THURSDAY AT TWELVE O CLOCK, BABE?
He was making me so uncomfortable. He was standing so close to me and I was ordering this stupid juice and he was waiting for his dumb yoga class and I was a little bit late for work and all I wanted to do was continue crying in a less well lit, less populated location AND HE WAS RUINING IT.
Then he asked if he could take me out for coffee.
I do not drink coffee.
I do not like coffee.
The last time I drank coffee was a few months ago to “get high” (no joke) and before then it was four years ago on a job interview.
“YEAH SURE,” I said, knowing all of this information. “SURE!”
Typically I operate under the same conditions as a vending machine: a quarter for a candy / a compliment for a phone number, but he seemed pretty pleased with this and himself. Though, quite frankly, if this person had asked me for my social security number I would have given it to him. I would have given him ANYTHING to leave me alone. I felt so wholly uncomfortable and reasonably disgusted about the yoga thing, yet there I was like HEY HEY! anything else I can help you with??
So, he has my number now. He said he was going to call me. And then I noticed my drink had been sitting on the counter for the entire time we were talking.
And my eyes are pretty regular now that they’re not drenched in sad.
Guys, WHAT is good with OkCupid?
There are so many ugly people on there. I’ve seen hotter people at my local bodega… behind the counter.
Honestly, huge disappointment… even for my dinner experiment. It’s so supremely depressing and humiliating, the thought of people actually using this website seriously upsets me.
Anyway, I’m already bored.
Here’s my profile, though:
I’m going on OkCupid.
It’s a joke (I’m not that des!), so I’m not going to hook up with anyone (not that I would if it wasn’t a joke, I’m a huge prude. duh)… but times is tough. and a bitch need to eat.
Don’t get me wrong, I hate a man with money (as anyone who knows me IRL knows and anyone who reads the words I write on here should know) but I wanna go on a date cuz I’ve never been on one - I’ve been accidentally on dates:
But I’ve never been on a real date that I knew was going to happen, that I was prepared for and that then turned out, actually, to be a date… and mainly I just want to crack up and get fed.
It is fully a joke, but I wanted to talk about it here first, lest anyone get the wrong impression (if they find me on OkCupid?!?!) and think I’m tryna fuq.
I doubt I’ll actually make it out of my apartment because making plans makes me anxious, as does meeting new people, eating in front of strangers, engaging in small talk and figuring out the best way to avoid any “goodbye” physical contact. Also, I’m just so fucking lazy… but if I do, I’m obviously just going to put anyone I go out with on blast here.
So let’s hope I can find a pretty enough picture of myself to trick someone into wanting to buy me a meal… because I’ve pretty much run out of content otherwise.
Last night I went out to dinner with my friend and in yet another glaring demonstration of how little he knows me, he had a friend of his (who he thought I would like/who he thought would like me?) come meet us.
The first thing this person did when he arrived was to spill that entire carafe of water all over my body. The WHOLE carafe. All of it. When it was full. Impromptu baptism! I will say that I actually thought that was hilarious and I didn’t even get up because I didn’t care and I was laughing so hard.
The fact that this person knocked half a gallon of water onto my lap was the BEST thing that happened to me last night.
Then there were the requisite jokes about being “wet,” which he, obviously, exhausted much too quickly with his overeagerness. I mean, I was literally wading in a puddle of tap water. Yes, funny guy with the jokes, I am wet. I’m drenched. Because you dipped me in a lake.
When things settled down, I was all on board with this guy. He was really good looking - which I’m not super into - but he was also really tall and therefore physically capable of picking me up, which I am very into and is
essentially the only thing that matters to me. (Actually, I should clarify. He was beyond good looking, so much so, in fact, that when he knocked that water over I was like Oh maybe we’re at a photo shoot (???) and I should just sit here laughing and pretending like this is funny. Not really, but he looked like a model or a mannequin. Or Adonis…)
Then my food came (don’t have a pic, I’m not a douche bag) and from the mouth of this person - after he interrupted some interminable story he was telling about how he had lost his coat? or found a coat? or made a coat? - comes, “Oh, you’re on a pretty high carb diet?”
TALK ABOUT THE UPPER HAND. He had the upper hand from jump street. He floated into this restaurant, doused me with water and (in)directly called me fat all within eight minutes of meeting me.
The fact that I did not burst into tears as soon as the word “diet” landed is a testament to… how much I wanted to vomit because of how fat I felt. COOL UPBRINGING, ASSHOLE. Honestly. Fuck. I ordered risotto, not the unlimited breadstick and pasta special at Olive Garden (side note: can someone take me to Olive Garden? I’ll pay. LOL OBVIOUSLY).
So, I ate maybe a third of it because I honestly felt sick to my stomach because of his comment and also because I knew he’d say something if I finished it.
Well, he still had something to say. And it was this:
I love a girl who doesn’t finish her food. That makes you so much more attractive.
You know when a guy knows he’s really good looking and feels like he can just say whatever the fuck he wants because of it?
Well, I didn’t. Until last night.
Also, at some (very random) point, he asked me if I knew who Ataturk was? SMH.
And, I sometimes pretend not to know things to let people feel cool and interesting about dropping some knowledge on me. But I was doing it here because I legitimately wanted to see how much one person could look down on another.
So I said, “No.”
No. No, I don’t know who the “Father of Modern Turkey” / first president of Turkey is… Never heard of him. What are you saying, “a Turk?” Yeah. No… tell me all about it at this casual dinner we are having on a Saturday night that you are so recklessly determined to ruin, you fucking pedant.
Then of course he asked me where I went to college and when I said Columbia and when he picked his jaw up from off the floor and popped his eyes back in their sockets, he asked if I was serious.
“Really?” he asked.
“No, I’m lying.” I said.
“Columbia State?” he said.
“YUP. Columbia State. In Florida. Mmhm.” I said.
And that was that.
Later he asked me what type of guys I was into and it became clear to me that my friend had given each of us very different expectations of this evening: I, on one hand, was under the impression that I was going to meet a cool person of the opposite sex who I might like and who might like me. I’m guessing this wasn’t presented to our guest in the same way. In other words: this person probably didn’t even know I was going to be there.
I told him I like “tall, old guys” and those were my only requirements but they were non negotiable and he tried to engage me in some sort of cursory conversation about this but he was also involved in a seemingly arduous text conversation with someone he was actually interested in, so I just stopped talking after I mumbled “aaand no one is listening to me,” because I am petulant and need a lot of attention.
Anyway, besides me blatantly requesting that people treat me poorly, I have no idea why people treat me poorly. But, I should probably stop being so picky because people aren’t knocking down my door tryna get at this, so that all being said…
I’m incredibly insecure and love being treated poorly. I thought that was so fun. If ur rding, plz call me. xxxxoxxox
I don’t usually write earnest things here because I have very little faith that people won’t be horribly mean to me if I share some feelings… especially given the fact that nastiness has already appeared and everything I post here is a fucking joke (and, also, because I’m occasionally horribly mean to people, so … you know, ya give, ya get).
But, like … OK. I don’t mean to be dramatic, but my life is in disrepair.
No. No. I know all I do (here) is make fun of how pathetic I am because I don’t have a boyfriend or how I’m mad des for someone to love me and these are both true and valid HUGE parts of my life, but in addition to being fodder for mah blahg life, it’s also a real part of my real life that is a little serious and a little sad.
In the fourteen months I’ve been single, I haven’t met one person I’ve had more than a fleeting interest in. And then a few weeks ago, I met this cool person I actually liked and wanted to hang out with on a sort of regular basis - and for the first time I have nothing bad to say about this person and I’m not going to put him on blast for some inane, unintentionally awkward or rude or embarrassing thing he did! (mainly because there’s really nothing to report, but even if there were… I wouldn’t air it out here, because he isn’t an asshole. And because I’m growing up (2011)).
Anyway, so yes. I met this person. I liked this person. And we hung out a bunch and then we hung out and then that was it.
And for the millionth time: I GET IT. Errbody tryna get they dick sucked.. I understand that. Hooking up… people are into that. That is great. That is an excellent thing for people to be into. And I also understand you have to hang out with someone a few times to test them out, see what’s good, figure out if you like them or not. And then you either do or don’t: people like each other, people don’t like each other. People think they like each other and then realize they don’t. These are *actual* normal things that happen in real life. You can feel sad about it all you want, but it’s cool. You’re going to like someone who doesn’t like you and people are going to like you and you’re not going to like them back…
But like, if you’ve been hanging out with someone and you realize you don’t like them… have some fucking tact.
Be a decent human being about it. If you don’t like them, can you not just tell that person that you don’t like them, that you don’t feel like things are going to go anywhere, that they repulse you, that they’re boring, that they’re not pretty enough? Could you do literally anything else except ignore them?
It hurts when someone doesn’t like you, of course it does. If you’re normal and not completely full of yourself, you feel like shit, you feel disgusting or ugly or stupid or fat or whatever else you can feel (or, if you’re me, an exhaustive combination of all negative feelings!!!). But you can also just go on with your life after you look at the situation rationally and realize that you and the other person are both adults who happen to not be attracted or interested in each other in a romantic way and that you obviously don’t want to hang out with someone who doesn’t want to hang out with you.
But when someone just ceases communication, that is the bullshit. Even when it’s someone you didn’t like or particularly care about - like the 44 year old dude (yes, this entire year has been an endless cycle of people being vaguely interested in fucking me and then ignoring me after they get bored… of trying to persuade me into having sex with them)- because it’s callous and hurtful and they’re already going to feel bad about not being attractive or interesting to you, so why not give them a break and lay it out?
In the specific situation I’m referring to I (obviously) liked this person more than a normal person in the same situation would like the same person because when I like someone, I like them a lot; I like them with everything in me, because there’s no other way for me to like someone and that’s important to me.
But you know what else? I DON’T FUCKING HANG OUT WITH SOMEONE IF I DON’T LIKE THEM. AND I DON’T UNDERSTAND WHY EVERYONE DOESN’T OPERATE THIS WAY.
and i want to cry about it forever.
(photo unrelated to post…)
A few weeks ago when i was doing what i thought was dating - but what actually turned out to be casually hooking up with (much to my surprise and chagrin… because I am completely unaware of life and things and feelings) - with this guy, we decided we were going to get liquored up and play scrabble at his house after we went out.
Because, naturally, two grown people cannot play board games without somehow involving or alluding to sex (? I mean, apparently. I’M completely able to play board games without involving or alluding to sex) we bet that if he won, we would have sex.
Well, to be fair, he bet that and then I said, “Uh… if we’re having sex because you won scrabble that’s going to be awkward… and probably bad… OK.” (it’s been a year; des times, guys. But, also, I knew he wasn’t going to win.)
*Anyway, he had to take a detour to get condoms… which is something I don’t really want to get into, but if you’re a grown ass man and you don’t have condoms, it can only mean one of two things: you’re not having sex. or you ran out. Both of these are awful.*
We started playing and within minutes it became very clear that this person hadn’t played scrabble in years (if ever), that he had a very vague grasp of the English language and that he might not even be a native English speaker. It was bad.
Like, unabashedly putting down two and three letter words BAD. I was like, WHAT GAME ARE YOU PLAYING??? THIS IS SCRABBLE. I swear to god this guy thought we were playing tic tac toe… or darts. Who knows. He might as well have been eating the tiles.
Sooooo… anyyyyway. To state the obvious: He didn’t win.
But this is not what’s important, what is important is that this happened after THIS:
We went to a fancy bar in LA and when the bill came, I peeeeled the last dollars I had
to my name in my bag out and handed them to him ($30) to pay towards our bill ($40 something) and he took them. HE TOOK MY DOLLARS!!!!
And, anyone who knows me knows I’m not into cash money - I love a broke dude - but this guy is twice my age (and fronts like the cash is flowing freely) and he was taking me out on a date and we were in LA, which is where he lives and is from and is where I drove for eight days to get to in a car I rented that cost me $1,600 plus eight days of hotels and eight days of gas.
So, yeah. What is important is that I still went back to his place, and entertained the idea of sleeping with him.
What is important is that I hung out with him again.
What is important is that, then, he ignored me and for the entire time he was ignoring me I kept thinking “hmm… yeah, I’m not totttallly opposed to seeing that person again” and it wasn’t until he sent that text that I was like, “oh… yeah. no. no no no more of this.” A MONTH LATER.
So, whatever. It took me forever to wise up, but I did it… And now I’m writing about it here
and am horrible to let you guys know something so important: if he’s not taking you out, if he’s ignoring you, he’s NOT (that) into you.
Difficult concept to grasp, I know.
I’m wising up about dudes and the various dude stuff that I need to wise up about. But, a few weeks ago, when I was in LA, I wasn’t on my game at all and ended up mildly hooking up with this dude I thought liked me (who CLEARLY didn’t).
Turns out, he didn’t/doesn’t because he never texted me after I left and apparently he was in New York the week after I got home.
But then! Last night/this morning at 1:30am, I get this text from him:
Hi. How r ya? Trying to remember when u were in LA? What was the date roughly.
Exact punctuation etc.
Like… Does your brain work?
What the fuck kind of fucking bullshit is this? How is this a thing? How is that a text? How is that person a person? How am I a person who is on the receiving end of a text message like that? What have I done so wrong in life to deserve this? How do I respond to that??
I’m really into being treated like shit, but this is next level. (Also, I feel like anything within a month is “roughly.”)
I’m not your assistant, you fuck. I don’t keep a calendar of your hookups. Why don’t you check your text messages? Why don’t you ask someone you are actually in contact with who you saw around the same time? Why don’t you use your brain, why don’t you think? It was less than a month ago? Why don’t you … DO LITERALLY ANYTHING ELSE in order to figure this out yourself??
Aaaand you just got deaded. Welcome to the club. You join two other people who don’t give a shit.
(I’m sorry, you need me to confirm my presence as a measure of time for something completely unrelated to me and my life? Nope. Sorry. Too busy being
an asshole twenty years younger than you and not having Alzheimer’s. OH AND ALSO… GO FUCK YOURSELF!!!!!!!!!!!!)
I don’t go around saying that I’m pretty or thin or cool or smart or, anything, really. I never say anything nice about myself. I hate myself. But, if there is one thing I do think about myself, it’s that I’m funny.
I think I think I’m funnie. I like to think that; I think other people think that. I’ve had some positive reinforcement of this opinion.
So, keeping that in mind, I have a story to tell:
A few days ago, I was laying in bed with a person of the opposite sex (GUYS I KNOW DON’T FREAK OUT!!!!!!!!!!!!) - and I’ve hung out with this person a few times and this person has NEVA EVA laughed at a single thing I’ve said. And I’m a girl, and he’s a guy. And we’re not friends. So, the least he could do is laugh just to make me think I was funny so he’d have a better chance of seeing me naked (right? that’s a thing, right?). Or, at the very least… TO SHUT ME UP!! - and out of absolutely fucking nowhere, he just starts CRACKING UP.
And I’m like:
OH HEY HUNNIE, WHATCHA LAUGHIN’ AT??
And, and, and he says something about how we’re laying here, listening to music from my computer… And And And… I don’t know. I don’t know anything. This, the fact that this happened, proves that I don’t know anything about anything. I mean I do not even know what that means. I do not know how to dissect the many levels of fuckery involved in understanding what this means.
Like, I literally just thought to myself, “OH WORD? THAT. THAT?!?!?! IS WHAT YOU ARE LAUGHING AT??? I’ve been rattling jokes off the cuff for the past two hours but this is what you find funny?”
I don’t even know how to be that funny- How to act or speak to elicit a laugh based on the finding that this is what this person deems funny is so beyond my capabilities. I might as well just kill myself.
Because, here’s the thing. What even is funny about that? Is it the fact that we’re laying in bed together? Because there’s a twenty year age difference? Because we’re in a bed? Because the music is coming from a computer? Because music is playing WHILE we’re in a bed? Are the two things related? Does it even matter?
WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU LAUGHING AT THIS???????
please laugh at me, i am so insecure. WHY ARE YOU LAUGHING AT THIS, THOUGH, SERIOUSLY???!???!!!
him: hey, it’s [xxxx] from [xxxx xxxxxx]. do you want to have dinner sometime?
me: how old are you?
it started raining profusely as soon as i left my apartment to go meet this guy on that date. so i had to change and i ended up being a little late. when i got there i told him i was late because it had started raining.
then later this happened:
guy: so it was raining?
me: yeah. sorry, it just… it was raining so hard. i had to change. there was so much rain. it was crazy.
guy: mmm. were you…. were you….
me: was i …..wet? YES. i was WET.
and then he literally looked at me like i’d just asked him to pee on me (…or something). it was a mix of shock, confusion and mild distaste.
that’s not at all what he was trying to ask me. he was being normal. in fact, after, he let out a pithy chuckle and he finished his sentence:
him: were you… able to get a cab?
ABLE. TO. GET. A. CAB. people. able to get a cab. was i able to get a cab.
i never want to forget this.