Since y’all respond more to my tales of romantic mayhem than anything else, enjoy…Read More
here’s a collection of lame romantic situations i’ve survived. although each is still vivid to me, you may have forgotten about them.
the important aspect is they were all lessons, mostly about boundaries. hope you enjoy reading them more than I enjoyed living them.Read More
i took the above photos of the Metropolis II exhibit at LACMA on a date last weekend. then i had a conversation with the guy i was with. exhibit > conversation
as we stared down at Metropolis II, Dude asked about my blog, specifically if unresponsive readers bothered me. being met with radio silence isn’t ideal, i conceded, and greater participation would be nice. but i’m not in it for the ego boost. the blog is an offering-- a resource for personal growth, increased awareness, and cool stuff. and i’m enjoying myself, so overall it’s great.
then Dude told me about posting a TED talk to facebook. since he rarely posts anything, he assumed it would get a lot of likes. but it didn’t. in fact, he “didn’t like the number of likes” he received.
and, as the traditional facebook-posting trajectory goes, he began comparing himself to others. the clear winner among his friends was a girl who posted a photo of squash and got hundreds of likes.
i gently suggested this might have more to do with him than winter vegetables.
he agreed, “but the girl who posted the squash is really hot, so that explains all the likes.”
so since she’s hot, there’s no point investigating your feelings. right.
metaphorically, there’s always going to be a hot girl posting photos of squash to facebook. that’s a guarantee and beside the point.
instead, this experience was a golden opportunity to notice desire for external validation. all you have to do is observe.
here’s a great technique i generally remember to use:
osho mentions labeling and inwardly repeating a feeling three times. so, if you’re angry, you just say to yourself, “anger, anger, anger.”
by immediately addressing the sentiment it is registered in the consciousness. then you can separate yourself from it and objectify it. anger is there, i am here.
calling feelings out as they arise keeps them keep moving, instead of letting them lodge inside us. the emotions that torture us are the ones that slip by when we are unaware. i’ve tried the method and honestly, by the third repetition i think, “i’m over it. no need to dwell.”
late last year i was supposed to go out with a guy on a Wednesday. ideally he’d send a confirmation text the day before about the time and especially the place, (the whole outfit revolves around locale) but i forgot to mention this desire and let it slide.
Tuesday came and went, which was not ideal but the situation was salvageable. suddenly it was Wednesday morning, when i still didn’t hear a peep. at that point our fate was clear- he forgot about me or lost interest and thus i never had to go out with him.
unlike other women, i refuse to walk the path of complex “what ifs.” “what if he saw a stray dog on his way to work, tried to take it to the vet but it was closed, and carted the poor pup around with him all day? now he’s considering keeping the dog and is overwhelmed by naming options.”
just, no. i’m not participating. the simplest explanation is usually the right one, especially when it comes to men.
around noon on Thursday he wrote—“julia!!! how’s your night looking tonight?”
am i a horrible person for wanting to reply, “it’s looking like it’s no longer Wednesday”?
i didn’t want to engage in a texting battle over who should’ve done what so i ignored him. but he persisted. finally he asked if he’d done something to offend and i reminded him about our plans, which he admitted he’d forgotten.
you FORGOT? this was theoretically a chance to get laid, to continue the species, and it slipped your mind? how has your defective DNA survived this long? Darwin would strangle you with his bare hands.
while incredulous, i was the opposite of offended. this little knucklehead’s honesty was a blessing. he saved me so much time! i saw who he was—a guy who’s so excited about meeting me he forgets to arrange a date—and wanted no part of it.
he went on, “i need to use the calendar app more. is there anything i can do to make it up to you?”
to which i replied, “i don’t think so. i want someone who already uses the calendar app.”
now, am i a dating hardass? probably. but i also have enormous clarity thanks to setting personal boundaries. they make life so much easier and fluid, in all situations. decide how you want to be treated and uphold those standards while staying polite. boundaries. get some.
for the last year and a half i’ve refused all coffee dates. i’m too old for this half-assed coffee date nonsense. what are we, in high school? they are the antithesis of romance. let’s review reasons to go to starbucks/coffee shop:
- you’re addicted to some weird, complicated drink
- you’re meeting the kid of a family friend who just moved to LA and is having a hard time
- you’re staging a domestic showdown with a female room mate (assuming you’re also female)
- you’re a tv/film writer in LA
none of these, you’ll note, are remotely fun, let alone inspire lovey-dovey feelings. plus, you’ll inevitably be forced to negotiate around a nut-so middle-aged woman yelling into her flip phone, which she’s charging at an outlet, the rest of her possessions strewn everywhere.
instead, when a guy suggests one, i say i’d love to meet but for a drink drink, or something entirely different, not coffee. one of them called me “harsh” but otherwise it works. every. time. it’s almost like they know it’s a sub-par offer. when we meet they grill me over drinks about the bad dates that led to this rule.
there are two, primarily. but the real issue is the attitude behind asking someone out for coffee. it’s so low-risk and tentative. we’re going on a date, but it’s not a real date, it’s just coffee. go big or go home, i say. if you can’t ask me on a real, grownup date, then get out of my life. maybe the guy who called me harsh was right. anyway, back to the dudes.
one had gained about 15 pounds, 10 of which went to his face, between the time his photos were taken and when we met. he walked in and i wanted to cry. after a long week of work i’d skipped Friday evening yoga for this? he’s already lied to me. i momentarily considered saying i’d forgotten something in my car and fleeing. but i gave him a chance. and it totally sucked.
he went ahead of me in line, took my scone, either by mistake or deliberately, and didn’t even offer to pay. when we were seated i discovered he was also hopelessly boring. honestly, there was nothing to work with, conversationally. when we said goodbye he made some overture about getting together again but i was already halfway across the street to my car. i’d refused to let him walk me.
the other guy suggested my local starbucks, which i knew was the most pathetic offer ever but i agreed because otherwise what will i write about later? he was a cater waiter/actor whom, he confessed, his father routinely beat, along with his brother. it was a painful conversation to say the least.
i recently suspended my no coffee rule and met a guy for chai at urth caffe in Beverly Hills for three reasons. strangely, this was the only urth caffe location i hadn’t been to but it’s the one closest to my apartment. so that needed to be fixed. plus, the longer i go without dating, the scarier the prospect of beginning again becomes. and i wanted to check in with the old rule and see if it withstood the test of time.
i got to chat with a super late bozo who parties like he’s still in college. what does that mean, exactly? why, just the night before he was so drunk he didn’t remember getting home. but don’t worry, he also lost his wallet over the course of the night. some rules are meant to be followed.
a long time ago, friends urged me to join tinder after i told them about a break up. they were encouraging but vague and i caught onto them quickly, “so it’s hot or not for adults,” i concluded. “no way.” already grossed out on principle, the way it linked to facebook solidified my disgust.
but there was an aggressive full moon back in april (i’m serious, look it up) and it, along with curiosity, compelled me to test the tinder waters.
i envisioned a virtual wild west, full of pistol-slinging hucksters, way riskier than orderly match, which i’ve used intermittently and where the worst infringements are 5’6” guys claiming to be 5’9” and 32-year-olds reporting an income range of $100,000-$150,000 telling me all about their two (2!) room mates. which is to say, there are a bunch of liars out there.
the unexpected part of tinder was its brutal honesty. profiles included, “i can’t live without a clean pair of underware” (sic) from a guy IN his underwear, the guy who included a photo of him getting a butt tattoo, the profile with only “hook up. standard hotel. dtla. now.”
then there was the guy with an opening line of, “can i interest you in a hot affair with a married man?” or the one who explained his relationship with his girlfriend as “the typical straight guy/bi-woman couple.” typical since when? since Obama took office? for the record, he also noted, “we’re both chubby, but working on it.”
and while i cannot share the literally hundreds of screenshots of tinder profiles i’ve collected, i can give you a glimpse into a few of my worst (best?) conversations.
male cat owner: “hey, can i eat nutella off of you?”
me: “that’s a privilege reserved for non-cat owners.”
once upon a time, a match and i had a FB friend in common.
me: “how do you know _____?”
lunatic: “ex girlfriend.”
me: “oh. i think that means we’re off-limits to each other.”
lunatic: “unless we hook up once and never tell anyone!”
me: “sorry dude. hos before bros.”
lunatic: “LOL! actually, my current girlfriend and i are looking for a third person. interested?”
me: “nooooooooooooooo. please stop.”
then he blocked me. however, if i’d said yes to the hook up would the current girlfriend have been included? i need closure.
loser: “do you have instagram?”
me: “no. just imagine me getting wasted, eating, and doing yoga on the beach. any order.”
rando i’d texted but hadn’t met, at 21. on a monday: “hey, i’m out in Hollywood right now. want to get wine?”
me: “i’m not the girl for this.”
rando: “aw, come on!” [and the like for the next 10 minutes]
me: “to be clear, the only way i’m leaving my apartment tonight is if my building catches fire.”
i know this doesn't fit with the others but it's too good to leave out.
someone whose boring, bi-weekly text advances i ignored for 2 months sent this winner as his swan song: “do u work at little caesar’s…coz u are hot and i am ready!!”
…then wouldn’t we both have to work at little caesar’s?
someone i actually went out with (sorry, he was really cute): “watching “louie” and drinking red wine alone on a Tuesday night. lame or living the dream?”
me: “average the responses from women you already asked and add me to the more popular one.”
lacking creativity: “causing any trouble on tinder?”
me: “not as much as all the other women you asked.”
lacking creativity: “that’s the most original response yet.”
i’m not dating right now, and once you read some of my stories you’ll probably understand why. here’s my first installment in a little retrospective of guys i’ve known (briefly) and loved (not at all).
i met a brazilian guy for drinks at a snazzy bar in downtown santa monica. he wore a baseball cap, which stayed on the whole time, and a hoodie. the sweatshirt was nice and euro chic, but this was our first date. as a lady i was not impressed.
we were seated at a great table in the front window, which seemed miraculous thanks to mr. sartorial splendor. the introductory chitchat was going well and he clearly liked me. his body language made it obvious and he said so outright, as foreign men occasionally do. i thought he was ok.
and he answered.
it was his dad in brazil, calling to check in as he does every sunday evening. i was appalled, of course, but kept cool. the two of them chatted on facetime a bit, and before i knew it, my date turned the phone around and i was suddenly confronted with a man best described as not my future father-in-law. “see? that’s my dad!” i gave him a little wave and smile, the kind you do when you’re ostensibly saying “hey there!” but inside you’re dying to yell, “you raised an idiot!”
they hung up shortly thereafter and he apologized profusely. i just stared at him in silence, emanating ‘you are really dumb’ from every pore, forcing him to restart the conversation, and noting he did not silence his phone.
sure enough, it rang again a few minutes later. this call was from the son of friends visiting him from brazil. everything was fine. the kid just called to see where he was.
by now i was wondering how he treats women he dislikes. i wasn’t included in this call, so i spent their conversation scanning the bar for reasons to cut this date short. was a robbery underway? had menus caught fire? any excuse would do.
then i wondered, “what if i’m being punked?” and immediately modified my search to include poorly disguised crew members of ‘candid camera,’ but no one fit the bill.
back in iphone land, the brazilian portuguese conversation seemed to be winding down. if i was going to run, this was my moment. i didn’t need an explanation for leaving, especially at this point. and the traditional taking-care-of-myself approach might have been to call him out on his bad behavior and storm off.
but i didn’t.
doing what was best for me in that moment meant sticking it out, for a few reasons. i’d already accepted the evening was shot, but if i left now what would i miss? clearly, nothing was off-limits. anything outrageous and inappropriate could happen. i already had a front-row seat. might as well stay and watch.
i didn’t want to make a scene or inadvertently give him a bad date story by leaving abruptly.
and, since he was an interested brazilian guy, making out at the end was essentially guaranteed. so, yes, at the end of the day i’m just an animal. sue me.
and we did make out, an activity that yielded another gem. “i knew you’d be a good kisser,” he claimed, “because of how you talk.” ‘like on facetime?’ i wondered.