I don’t have time to date – I’m focusing on my career…

I’ve uttered variations of this statement before. I know most of you have. I also know that most guys would probably say this is a lame excuse. It’s not. It’s a perfectly acceptable and legitimate excuse.

While I am a freelance designer (which isn’t remotely interesting as it sounds), I’m still looking for a full-time, big girl job. So how did I spend last week, you ask? Well, I spent all of last week waiting by my phone, in bed, waiting for a man to call after he said he would. And he did. Nine days later.

Nine. Days.

I don’t know if you realize how long that is to wait for a man to call. Well, actually, I’m sure you do. You spend every five minutes looking at your phone to make sure you have service. You’re constantly texting people, waiting for their response to confirm that your phone, is, in fact, functional. You begin to make excuses for him such as: “Oh, it’s 11:00 am, it’s still early.” “Oh, it’s 3:00, I’m sure he got slammed at work.” “Oh, it’s after 5:00…he’s probably left the office so I won’t hear from him until tomorrow now…I hope.”

Oh. Sorry. Did you think I was talking about a boy I was interested in? Oh no…I was talking about my potential employer who said he’d be following up our phone interview with a call to set up a meeting.

Throughout my job search, I’ve realized that this process is almost identical to dating. Well, that’s not true. It’s worse. If a boy doesn’t like me, I dress slutty, go to a bar, get hammered, and make out with a stranger. There are always more men. Always. There are not always more jobs. If I don’t snag the one, who knows how long I’ll be sitting on my couch counting down the days until the series finale of All My Children.

I know, I sound ridiculous right now. But it’s true. So I’ve compiled a list of the ways interviewing is like dating.

1. You’re so nervous before your interview, you consider taking a shot before you leave to calm down. Eventually, you decide against it because you don’t want to smell like liquor and be labeled an alcoholic this early. (Side note: While most normal people may not take shots before dates, Ivy and I have. Many times.)

2. You get dressed in the outfit you planned days before. You make sure that you look thin, mature, and not slutty, but also still really hot.

3. When meeting with the interviewer, you stumble upon your words, try to make yourself sound interesting/smart/clever, and try your hardest to avoid any awkward silences.

4. After the meeting is over, you replay every second of it over your head. Multiple times. You try to figure out if you really WERE clever and smart, or if you sounded like an idiot. You also try to decipher the interviewer’s reaction to everything you said. You spend forever trying to figure out if he/she liked you.

5. After the meeting you wait for a call back. And wait. And wait…

6. If they DO call you back, your insecurities subside a tad. You now know that you were liked. But were you liked enough to be considered for real commitment?

7. You go back for a second meeting. You repeat steps 1-5.

8. Hopefully, after this, you get called back with the wonderful news that you are now employed. If not, you probably will end up very, very drunk trying to fill the void in your life.

I now know why the “focusing on my career” excuse was invented. Because having gone through this in regards to a job AND a boy at the exact same time, I legitimately started to lose it. My life was literally at a halt until two separate men decided if/when they would contact me. It was awful and I did not like it. I would encourage everyone to avoid that situation at all costs.

Waiting for Step 8
Ally

It was on the Radio, so it must be true...

Ladies and gentlemen,

I have hit a new low. Or all time high. Ivy said high but I'll let you decide.

Yesterday as I was driving to work, I was listening to my favorite morning radio hosts, Eric & Kathy, on The Mix. As is typical for their show, Eric brought up an interesting fact that he had come across; he claimed that, according to a recent survey, the average woman will kiss 29 men in her lifetime. Obviously I scoffed, not believing the number, because I probably kissed 29 men last February alone. Eric then asked for callers to inform the listeners of their numbers. I decided that since I was stuck in traffic, I would call.

I got through. As the first caller. SERIOUSLY? I can't get through to win Maroon 5 tickets, but when it comes to potentially humiliating myself, I beat the entire Chicagoland area? Eff You WTMX, Eff You.

Well, the behinds the scenes operator asked me for my number: "About 100," I proudly said. "100?....do you...do you keep track?" She asked. "I did my junior year of college..." "Well, how old are you?" "22" "Ok...and what's your name?" "Ashley." I am no stranger to pseudonyms obviously and decided if I was going down, so was the name Ashley. I briefly waited to speak to my Radio heros and when I finally started talking to them, I was proud of past conquests. And my wit, which Eric complimented. They asked me several questions including what percentage of my (roughly) 100 men were decent kissers. I confidently informed them that it was only about 20%. We finished chatting and they politely switched to the next caller.

The following caller was another Ashley. This Ashley proudly said that the only man she's kissed is her husband. She then went on to say that she was "shocked" when she heard "the previous caller's number" because she had "some really kinky friends but even they weren't that slutty." Really? Really, real Ashley? She then (almost) saved face by saying it wasn't an insult, but was more the fact that she didn't realize she was so "out of the loop."

Thank goodness for older, slutty ladies. The third caller said that she also thought she was at around 100, but realized it was closer to 200. She continued to explain, for the benefit of the real Ashley, that kissing people wasn't slutty if it stopped there. Eric asked if she agreed with my statistic and Caller Number Three said that I was "Spot. On" because only 1 in 5 men can kiss (sorry guys).

When I told Ivy about this, she agreed with me that it was a new high in my life because "[I] got called slutty on the radio." At first I wasn't sure about that, but after some thought, I feel like this puts me in the same category as Chelsea Handler. She is open and clever about her sluttiness and I aspire to be the same.

For now, I think the fact that I have no qualms about kissing hundreds of strangers should land me my own Vh1 show.

Ally

Ally knows best?

I like to consider myself a fairly open minded young adult. Ok, that's not entirely true. More accurately, I'm open minded to opinions that I don't find completely stupid.

In the last few years of my life I have developed strong opinions on topics such as: why certain people should have to take a written exam before being allowed to procreate, why people should not be married before the age of 25, and why people like the Situation should be banned from society, and more importantly, the media.

While I could sit here and rant on these topics for literally hours, instead, I'll focus on my most recent realization – I am always right. BUT, I might not always be right when it comes to what's best for other people.

Take my sister for example, Little A. She is still dating the BF I blogged about in a much earlier post. BF is, what I think, should be considered overly possessive and jealous. After talking to many people on the subject though, I have realized that maybe my perception of this is skewed because I apparently have an uncommon view of what should be considered a normal trust level.

Personally, any guy I date will have to be ok with the fact that I have a lot of close male friends and that I am a very cuddly individual and that I will, at times, unknowingly flirt with everything that moves. That does not mean I'm interested in other men or will be cheating on him. Having said that, I would obviously let him have female friends. People say that I'm too trusting and blah blah blah, but whatever, if one of us cheated because of that, then we'd be a terrible person and the other one would be better off anyway.

While Little A and I share DNA and clothes, she does not share my viewpoints on dating and we have had many discussions (read: screaming matches) on various topics. Recently, BF and I spent a great deal of quality time together and I remembered that I once liked him because he's actually a nice boy. Just a kind of jealous, immature, nice boy. I realized that BF makes Little A happy and he really really cares about her –his ways of caring are just a little different than I would like. Little A is ok with the relationship rules he has expressed, so who am I to tell her otherwise? I think that I'm still right in what should be considered crazy jealous, but I'm not right for what's best for her. She's ok with the fact that he is overly involved in who her friends are so how can I tell her that's a valid reason to dump him?

It's taken a while, but I've finally come to accept that while I have strong views on relationships, that doesn't mean they work for other people. My sister and I have tooootally different personalities and I can't expect the same type of relationship to make us both happy.

I still think most people shouldn't procreate

Ally

Ghosts of Jerkfaces Past

Bad things happen in threes. They do. I don’t care if you’re superstitious or not, this is a fact.

Thursday evening I was hanging out with some friends when I received a text from Hot-Greek-Med-Student who I hadn’t spoken to in months. He was inviting me to his band’s show the next night. Great. Hot-Greek-Med-Student FINALLY wanted to hang out with me again, but I had made plans already. To go to a barn party. With Ivy. Clearly these were not breakable plans. I sadly informed him that I would be unable to attend but would love to see his next show.

Friday night I was beyond excited to attend my first ever barn party. I drove down to U of I, decked out in tall cowboy-esque boots, jean shorts, a long plaid shirt, and of course, pigtails thinking that I looked like a real townie (when really I just looked like a suburban girl). I ventured with Ivy to our pregaming destination and was eager to see who was wearing a cowboy hat I could steal to complete my ensemble. I walked into the apartment hoping to see one of the familiar faces that I knew from my previous visit and who should I see standing in the middle of the living room? Rugby. Fucking. Will.

Yes. That’s right. Rugby Will, one of the main reasons this blog currently exists, was standing right in front of me. The boy I successfully avoided in the city for about two years was standing in the same room as me 200 miles away from home. He awkwardly approached me, and we chatted for a moment until he was pulled away to continue his beer pong game. I instantly turned around, told Ivy who he was, and begged for a beer. Luckily, once we left for the barn dance, I didn’t see him for the rest of the night. This is the end of the story and more time than Rugby Will deserves being thought about.

Saturday night I attended a bachelorette party, which, much to my grandmother’s dismay, did not include a stripper. I am not kidding about either of these statements. As I was sitting there deciding which man I wanted to chat up for the evening, I received a text. From…the only boy in my past that did not have a gimmick. Oh well, he doesn’t deserve a nickname anyway. So, jerk who I dated-ish last year for a few months but wouldn’t commit OR let me dump him decided to text me around midnight asking what grade school I attended. Out of sheer curiosity, I responded to see where this would go. WELL, apparently, he was hired by my church/grade school to film the 100-year anniversary documentary. Fabulous. Even better, I’m on the committee. Even better still, the chairwoman was hoping my old roommate and I would agree to be interviewed together in the video.

So lets recap. Three boys who, in the last two years, were of varying degrees of pseudo boyfriend potential and all made me swear off men, decided to creep back into my life. The same weekend. Seriously, Universe? What. The. Fuck. No, really…this isn’t fair at all. It was quite crappy actually.

Ok, now that I’ve calmed down a little, I should skip to what this has taught me. For one, I’ve learned that I’ve involved myself with so many men that I literally cannot go anywhere in this state without running into one. Secondly, I realized that I can hold grudges for a long time. Buuuuut most importantly, I learned that the past really will come back to haunt you. (This is the part where I comment on how to become a mature young lady) You can’t let this get the best of you. I was over Rugby Will and hadn’t thought about him for a long ass time, but the second I saw him, I freaked out. (Granted, it was Rugby Will so I was entitled to a freak out, but really, he’s not worth the energy. Neither is non gimmick boy. Greek-Med-Student totally is though, and I would give him a second chance in a heartbeat).

When a guy from your past, or three, pop up unexpectedly, do not fret. Don’t let it ruin your evening, or day and sit around watching Lifetime for 5 hours. Those boys are jerks and not worth your time, thoughts, or energy. Say hello, politely chat for a moment, and then walk away. And then you can run off and talk about him with your friends. Yes, there is a reason you are no longer together and yes, he probably made you cry a lot, but you’ve spent enough time dealing with that. Don’t let people from your past ruin another minute of your life, you’re too good for that. Like my 10-year old sister said to me last night when I was plotting ways to get non gimmick boy fired “Ally, that’s not nice. Just because he was mean to you, doesn’t mean you should do mean things to him now.” Deep down I know she’s right so I gave up plotting but I still think she has a lot to learn…

I’ll stop thinking about these three as soon as this blog post is done. Scout’s honor.

Ally

Sometimes planes they smash up in the sky

I'm going to start writing, largely due to the need to procrastinate... but also due to a new and exciting dating dilemma. It's good to know that the dating world practices equal opportunity fucking over for both single and coupled people alike.

I spent a good year and a half bitching that I would never find a soulmate. And then I did. His name is Plaid. And some stuff happened, and we went some places, and did that whole love thing... blah blah blah. Fast forward through the e-harmony.com montage (though we didn't meet on the internet, we met while drunk at a bar like normal classy folks), and let's get to the real issue here. I'm currently in law school in the middle of nowhere Illinois (where you can get a bottle of Absolut for $17, so I'm not complaining) and he is currently employed in Virginia. Heeyyyy wait a minute, that's far!

I was always adamantly against long distance relationships. To me they're like long distance sandwiches... sure, the promise of satisfaction exists, but what good is a sandwich 10 states over when you're hungry? Now, I know what you're thinking. Ivy... people aren't sandwiches. People have personality and unique value, whereas a sandwich does not (arguably, Ally's sandwiches have a lot of personality and unique value). But then you have to remember, for a long time there, dating partners were as interchangeable to me as what type of sandwich I might have for lunch. (I'm hungry)

Plaid isn't a sandwich to me. He's more like a dinner at Alinea. It's the world's fucking best restaurant, and people justifiably travel across the world to eat it. And if I booked a reservation there, I wouldn't knock back a couple of Subways before going. I would wait.

Because.... eeee.... I don't wanna say it... okay I'm gonna say it.... some people are worth waiting for. If there were a score board for Plaid v. rest of male population, the rest of the male population has one point. For proximity. When I first learned that we would be doing the long distance thing, my initial reaction was "Find someone to replace him who lives a comfortable walking distance from your apartment." Then I remembered that it's not like perfect matches are everywhere. Realistically, if I plunged back into the dating world, I would be re-confronted with assholes who never call, dudes I have nothing in common with, or worst of all, guys who listen to Nickelback.

So I guess I've landed myself in the dreaded long distance relationship. At least there's still a Jimmy John's right down the block.

Lunchtime!

Ivy

Be a man and Suck it up

As a girl, I feel as though I have the God given right to complain about a lot of things...usually in hopes for attention. I am allowed to talk about the same thing over and over and over again so that the person I am complaining to assures me that I am either right, or more importantly right and pretty.

Well, while I'm entitled to whine to everyone and their mother about anything and everything, boys should never ever do so. Mainly because they need to act like men, BUT they should especially not complain about their girlfriends...to other girls. Because if they do, I take that as an invitation to intervene. I will tell them they are right and call them pretty. And then drunkenly make out with them.

I have been noticing this more and more lately with various men in my life and it's beginning to annoy the crap out of me. Most notably, a coworker of mine always complains about his girlfriend. ALWAYS. I understand that everyone is allowed to get a little frustrated when they're in a relationship, but this boy complains every. freaking. day. It's gotten to the point that I don't think I've ever heard him say anything good about her. Except that she teaches little kids. But that's about it.

Here are a few things he has complained about:

1. Going to visit her family

2. Being stuck in a rut with someone

3. Hating having a routine

4. Not liking having to deal with her problems

5. Not liking her problems interfering with him going out

6. Everything else you can think of

Now, what can you gather from this list? If you're me, you gather that he hates his girlfriend and he repeatedly tells you this in hopes of you saving him. Wait...no...is that not right? Crap.

Any time a boy complains to me about his girlfriend, I am going to assume this is the case (and here is the part where I defer any and all blame on the boy). Listen, if you really don't hate being in a relationship, don't bring it up. If you're not talking about how much you hate your girlfriend or the relationship I assume you are totally happy and will go about my business and hate her from afar. If I feel you hate her as well, I will attempt to form an alliance, and by alliance I mean hook up with you. (Now, while I probably would never do this, having been cheated on multiple times, I will think about doing it. A lot. Which would suck for the gf if I was a horrible person)

I understand that you want to go get drunk with your friends and don't want to sit on the couch consoling your girl because she had a bad day at work (actually, I don't but that's a different argument) but you can make an attempt to say something nice about her on occasion. In the words of an animated bunny, "If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all." And if you really really really need to complain about these things, call up one of your boys and talk about it over Halo or whatever the hell you play, don't seek comfort in your single girl coworkers. They will give you bad advice. Well, at least I would...

I can only pretend to be a home-wrecker

Ally

Yes, your accent is hot, but it's also difficult to understand you...

It's that time again. Summer in Chicago. That means trips to the beach, endless festivals and of course, more Irishmen crawling around than you'd find at a pub in Dublin.

The other day I was at the Taste with my Bestie and a good friend from out of town. In between the Crab Nuggets and the Mashed Potato filled Chocolate Cupcake, I spotted authentic Irishmen working at a nearby booth. And you know my love of Irishmen. So naturally, I swooned over their accents for a good five minutes and kept walking. A little while later I was left with two tickets which can get you absolutely nothing at this overpriced festival and thought it would be funny if I asked a boy how many tickets his phone number cost, hoping it wouldn't be more than two. Naturally, my friends suggested trying this horribly awesome line on the Irishmen. After a great deal of protesting (Ok, fine, I said "no" once and then agreed) I went up to the booth and delivered my well rehearsed line.

It worked.

Long story short, he texted me 15 min later, we met up for a beer, chatted and made plans to hang out again. Well, apparently, Foreigners think they can coast by with their cute accents and limited-time only allure. Irishman decided to tell me multiple nights that I should meet him at the bar HE was at or simply to just meet him at his place later. After informing him that things did not work like that in the Good Ol' U S of A and that he gave Irishmen a bad reputation he informed me that he would make it up to me by promising the absolute best sex of my life.

Really? Really Mr. Irishman? You think that you can put absolutely no effort forward and I'll just hop into bed with you because of your dreamy accent and the cute fact that when you text, you do so with an accent (Here becomes ere. you becomes ye. This in no way is related to Fone). I do not think so. Yes, American girls can be easy, especially for a guy with an accent but come on, try a liiiiiiittle. At least try to buy me ONE drink, and no, the free one you got for working at the Taste did not count. Mainly because your friend got it for me.

Here's the thing Mr. Irishman, you are no longer novel. You have become the "norm." Last summer while leaving a bar with my Irish Fling of '09 a man approached me and asked if I had an accent. When I responded I did not, he replied "That's ok. I do. I'm Irish- nice to meet you." (I wish I were kidding about that. But it happened. Really) So Irishman of 2010, you're old news. And you know what that means? It means you have to try harder now. You actually have to do lunch and the cinema and not just suggest it so you can follow up with "coming to my place tonight?"

Switching to Aussies,

Ally

People say my life is like a SitCom. Well, I don't think it's that funny...

This weekend was definitely a glimpse back to my past life of being a Fauxcialite last summer.

I must say, I've definitely missed it.

Friday I had a date with a British boy from Northwestern. A date that he scheduled two weeks in advance, I might add. So Brit takes a cab to my house to pick me up and takes me to a super fancy restaurant. We have a delicious and waaaaaay too expensive dinner. A dinner that nearly equalled what I make at my part time job IN A MONTH. For a first date. Despite my awkwardness (and the pressure of having to be more funny /charming /intelligent since he was shelling out so much cash) I had a fantastic time. He was cultured and sweet and intelligent, and had an accent. He is also volunteering at a lemur conservation center this summer. In Madagascar. Yes, just like the movie.

Obviously I was beyond smitten.

On to Saturday.

A boy from my past was in town for one day. A boy that I've been friends with and have had a secret crush on for 5 years (by secret I mean everyone knew except him. Well, honestly, he probably knew). We went to lunch and I remembered why I enjoyed hanging out with him- and looking at him, and I left to go get ready for a Frat Formal (where I would be a "mock date"). After the formal I drunkenly stumbled to a bar to meet up with my friends. And, of course, text Past Boy to meet up with us. He shows up around 3 am to the late bar we were at. Maybe earlier. I had no sense of time at that point. Cliffnotes version: We end up kissing at the bar for the first time ever. And then watched the Sunrise on the beach. And then kissed some more. A lot more. Until he had to go to the airport to catch his early flight. So the ONE TIME he decided to make a move was 24 hours after I have a fabulous date with a guy I decided I would one day marry. In Madagascar. Or England. I hate my life sometimes.

Pop Quiz: Does the rich, charming Brit stand a chance?

If you answered "yes," you've clearly never read this blog.

If you answered "no," you're right and are probably thinking I'm an idiot. Because I am.

Upon telling BFF (from the previous blog)/all my other friends about this, they yelled at me. Before you get the urge to yell at me too, hear me out. Yea, the Brit was charming and nice and treated me to an extremely fancy evening, but do I really want to date someone that I feel that I constantly need to impress? Or would I like to be with someone that I can let into my messy room and not care (this was a HUGE deal for me btw)? And yes, while I'm realistic that nothing can happen with Past Boy (since I'm cursed which means he lives out of state), it made me realize nothing should happen with the Brit either. You can't just keep exaggerating certain parts of your personality and hiding others depending on who you're dating. Compatibility doesn't mean finding someone you can put on a fascade around but still have fun. This is the part that I get grossly Cliche: it's finding someone you can always be yourself around. Really.

I found someone Saturday that I actually let into my messy room. After I pulled my first all nighter and probably looked like a crack head. And I didn't care. Now I dunno if anything will happen between me and Past Boy in the future, but hey, I didn't think anything would EVER happen between us. But I do know that whoever I end up with, it'll be someone who I'll let in when my laundry's all around my floor and not someone I'm embarrassed to order French wine in front of because I can't pronounce it.

Enjoying my sandwiches and beer just as much as my truffle sauce and dessert wine.

Ally

Ivy needs to stick to her guns...

Last night I went on a date.

Things were going well until he told me his favorite band was nickleback.

Ivy said I should continue to date him.

Never taking Ivy seriously again,

Ally

I'm dating a social experiment

Confession. There has been a lot of Plaid bashing on this blog. And while he does do a lot of stupid shit due to his y chromosome, truth be told... he's pretty great. I talk more about the reasons I want to throw him off of a building largely because, well, that's a hell of a lot funnier than a blog titled, "The top 10 reasons I love my little baby puffin boy"

Plaid, as a person, is basically me with shorter hair (it's even kind of the same texture...) and a vaster knowledge of music. But if I had to pick one area we don't see eye to eye, in the least, at all, not one bit... it's dating. Great. The person I'm dating doesn't understand how I perceive dating. That's like the person you're having sex with not understanding sex (but trust me. he does.)

There are a few little differences, such as he thinks affection is okay whereas I think all PDA-ers should be subject to the International Criminal Court. He also thinks it's okay to think about the future, whereas I'd like to pretend my body will implode upon itself before I ever settle down. But the big one is... he doesn't believe in mind games. And if there's ANYTHING I believe in, it's that you should try as hard as you can to fuck with the head of the person you care about (just...kidding?) He's not joking when he says this either; he actually thinks you should be honest with the person you're seeing, to the point where he has TOLD girls if they're just a hook up buddy or something more in a timely fashion! For Christ's sake, I'm not even honest with MYSELF about my dating intentions, let alone any of my ex-boyfriends who I cheated on 7 or 8 times.

Without pretending that I have a doctorate in pop psychology, I'm going to draw a broad and overreaching conclusion about why we don't see eye to eye. His entire dating life in college consisted of a long term relationship with his same girlfriend from high school. My dating life in college has consisted of hundreds of random make outs and a bottle of Jack Daniels. We had LITERALLY opposite experiences. And it had me wondering; Does college dating ruin us all? Because Plaid's experience has cultivated an individual who is honest, optimistic about love, and openly affectionate. My dating experience hasn't exactly left me hard and bitter, but basically I think all relationships are evil and I think I might be an alcoholic.

I'm not saying that the way he turned out is insanely perfect, and we should all forego serial dating in favor of the high school sweetheart path. Chronic monogamy certainly has it's drawbacks (like not getting to make out with literally every person in the bar). But somewhere in between all the drunken disposable hook ups, the complete asshole heartbreakers, and of course the mind fucking... something's gotta give. If your most honest and open relationship was with the guy who only dumped you then hooked up with your friend that ONE time... you're going to have to develop some thicker skin. Or else all the whiskey and ice cream and crying is going to start making you fat and puffy. Then no one will love you! (Thaaanks, Grandma!)

So, no. I'm not about to start belting out "Someday my Prince Will Come". But it couldn't hurt to give a little faith to relationships. Because even though I've dated hundreds of jerks, morons, and creeps, the latest flame isn't any of those things in the least (okay, he's totally creepy, but in a really endearing way I swear!) It may be too late for me to believe in that Disney romance, but I can at least give my all to a real life one. Prince Charming was technically a pedophile anyways.

I guess this is the point where I actually admit that I'm someone's girlfriend...

Ivy

When Harry met Sally they doomed us all...

While I was in class a few weeks back, my Professor brought up an extremely important and relevant issue she felt strongly about. It was an issue that I had actually been debating the weekend before with a group of friends. We discussed whether guys and girls can strictly be platonic friends (I love the classes I take).

Throughout college, I had a multitude of various guy friends ranging from the friend I've known since I was 4 to those "friends" that I hung out with on weekends. There was always one friend, though, that everyone said I would end up with. Sure we were close and argued like an old couple, and yea, he hated everyone I dated and if we went out to eat with our friends we'd feed each other, but that was just how we were. I didn't like him, and despite what many (now) exs thought, nothing was going on between us. For Pete's sake I hooked him up with friends of mine. After a while I got used to the "Are you two dating?" comments which were eventually replaced with the "OMG you two should TOOOOTALLLYYYY date! That would be SO cute!" At first it was ridiculous to hear that. Then funny. Then, two years later, it was just annoying.

Well, what everyone but me thought was inevitable, actually was. Long story short, in the last few months, this BFF and I have had a few sleepovers and I've gotten some presents (read: jewelry and a stuffed animal).

I really don't do the whole "get involved with friends" thing due to a botched relationship/friendship from high school so I was REALLY hesitant about this. That, and the fact that BFF has hooked up with like, 4 of my closest friends over the years. People's pasts are scary enough, but think about what it's like when his past drunken nights were with one of your really hot, fun friends who everyone wants. Yea. Hate my life.

Anyway, I have thought long and hard about where things should go, where I think they're going, what he wants, why he wants it, why now, what's the point if we're graduating, and most importantly, what I want. Well, apparently, I'm MUCH better at coming up with hypothetical answers for BFF and suck at figuring out what I want. Part of me wants something more, part of me doesn't and I can't for the life of me figure out which part to listen to.

My friends don't help at all either. Most of them are so excited at the thought of BFF becoming my BF so when I say "I dunno...kissing him was kinda....weird....not like it was bad, but just, not normal" they dismiss it saying that it's just something I have to overcome and get used to while my other friends (OK fine, just Ivy) quoted the most relevant source: Friends. She reminded me that when Monica and Chandler got together, they said that it just felt right. Well, yea, this didn't really. But lets be honest, do I ever listen to Ivy? Nope. So I let things continue. Which was dumb.

I've been writing this post for about 3 weeks now. I've been replaying every conversation and little thing in my head driving myself crazy trying to figure out what he wants (instead of, you know, just talking to him. Why? Because I'm a girl and talking about important things scares me). The whole time I was writing this post I kept going back and forth on what to think about this whole thing and low and behold, I agree with Ivy. Nothing is meant to develop between us. If it were, he would be trying harder to actually date me- not text me after 1 am on a Wednesday because he's bored.

Honestly, if it were ANY other guy, I would have written him off as a total D-bag booty texter a LOOOONG time ago. But I didn't because we were friends. I let the fact that we had some form of strong relationship get in the way of my better judgement, but really, that should have led me to think this way in the first place. As my friend, he's tried to protect me (read: yell at me multiple times) from jerks who would pull this same shit. He would get mad that I would be dumb enough to think that these guys actually wanted a deep emotional connection when they texted at 1 am and I never listened to him even though I knew he was right. So in my head, I thought he couldn't do the same thing to me knowing how many times it's happened. But he did. And yea, MAYBE he has some feelings that go a little deeper, but that's still not enough. He always told me that I needed to hold out for a guy that would treat me with respect and want to be with me no matter what. I thought for a little while that it was him. It wasn't. He's a good friend for me, but that's it.

Sometimes you get so comfortable with an opposite sex friend that the lines get a little blurred and it's hard to tell what's going on which eventually leads you to question what you want. Yes, you enjoy spending time together and play a huge role in each other's lives, but most of that time, the role you're supposed to play is just the friend. Not everyone is meant to end up with their BF. From now on, I'm disregarding everything my friends tell me are "signs" that BF is in love with me. Sure, he's hated all my guys I bring home, but so have all my female friends. Yea he's gotten me presents, but so have my female friends. Maybe we drunkenly made out, but so have... well, you get the point.

Wishing my life were more like "The Proposal" because Ryan Reynolds is HOT,

Ally

The best dating advice comes from Eleanor Roosevelt

Remember that little quote that's been pummeled into your head since kindergarten? "There's nothing to fear but fear itself." Unfortunately for the late Mrs. Roosevelt, the people of America probably should have also feared the ensuing decade of bread lines, unemployment, and stocking up on toilet paper. But while my love life could be considered depressing, it's hardly the Great Depression. It's more akin to the most recent economic crisis; Nothing that can't be fixed by a black man.

...I digress. While the quote may currently seem as culturally relevant as Tamagatchis, I found myself really thinking about it. What has REALLY caused more detriment to my life? The things I'm afraid of, or the fact that I'm afraid of them? My list of phobias includes, but is not limited to:Acrophobia, algophobia, apiphobia, cacophobia, chiroptophobia, decidophobia, dutchphobia, gamophobia, macrophobia, nudophobia, orientalphobia... and the big one... philophobia.

I am absolutely terrified that one day I might be forced into the situation where I have to...love someone. Most of my fears stem from the fact that my mind likes to think of ways everything can go wrong. Sometimes this is a good thing; as in when I finally come to the conclusion that getting into a car with 3 strange men I just met at the bar is a poor choice (...God, I wish I HAD come to that conclusion...) But sometimes it's terrible thing, like when I irrationally believe my boyfriend is cheating on me with Heidi Klum (and he doesn't even like blondes!)

But that's the reason philophobia is my favorite of all phobias. It's the easiest one to justify, because most of these "irrational" thoughts have ACTUALLY FUCKING HAPPENED. I've been cheated on with strangers and with friends. I've cheated on people for no apparent reason with 7 different dudes in one night. I've dumped people over text, after things were going seemingly well. I've been dumped over facebook chat, after things were going seemingly well. People fall in and out of love faster than I throw up after chugging 3 Long Islands. Add all this up, and being love feels a lot like standing on a mountain surrounded by bees and Asian people; absolutely frightening.

Now some people are thrill seekers and absolutely get off on this feeling. I do not. I'm being a risk seeker if I decide to wear lace underwear in the morning. And while I realize that my love averse behavior is putting me on the Metra to Cat Lady Town, that doesn't mean I'm ready to take the plunge.

So sorry there, Eleanor. While you may have given some sound advice, your husband also cheated on you with your social secretary. So maybe the only thing to fear... is women who are hotter than you.

At least I'm not blogophobic,

Ivy

If I were your third grade teacher, you'd get a check minus.

The thing about winter break is that it is more destructive to my love life than Jose Cuervo. It is impossible to meet any fresh dating material while hitting the south suburban club scene, unless you have an affinity for Ed Hardy trucker caps and community college. Now if you have an attention addiction stronger than Amy Winehouse's addiction to snorting every substance known to man, this reduces you to recycling former love interests.

When you start trying to rekindle things with past prospects, you start remembering why they never quite made the leap from Mr. Right Now to Mr. Right. Most of them are at best intolerable, and at worst deserve to die in a fire. I sent a text message one night to a cute med student I had met over the summer, feigning interest in how his life had been going...and opened the Pandora's box of texts, phone calls, and IMs. I have no problem with 500 text messages a day, provided the guy has something witty/smart/cute/interesting to say (hello, I literally have tried to snort attention off of a hooker's ass). 95% of the time, they do not. Nothing this med student had to say fell into the magical 5%.

Sample conversation (which happened approximately 60 different times):

Him- Wanna come over and watch a movie?

Me- You live kind of far. You could come here.

Him- I'm already all cozy in my bed. You can climb in with me. We can cuddle.

Me- I don't even like to cuddle.

Him- You never want to hang out with me.

No shit I never want to hang out with you. That's because you never suggest anything even remotely appealing to do. All of your suggestions involve me riding the train for 45 minutes into the ghetto, to hang out at your apartment (which probably doesn't even have couches) and cuddle with you. And let's be honest, when you SAY cuddle you MEAN you're going to try and date rape me for 2 hours before finally awkwardly passing out.

Listen, I'm not saying you have to get me a 200 dollar dinner before I have sex with you; I've had sex with people for Taco Bell. What I'm saying is that your hang out suggestion makes you seem incredibly, incredibly boring. You seem like the kind of guy whose idea of an epic Saturday night is watching ESPN with your friends in your apartment with two cases of Busch, before you drunk dial your ex girlfriend and cry to her for a half an hour. You also seem like you hate effort, in every sense of the word, as demonstrated by your inability to leave your apartment ever. Which means if I were to somehow sleep with you, I would enjoy about 7 minutes of sex. And enjoy is really pushing it.

And maybe it's my fault for texting you one fucking time asking how you were doing. Maybe that one generic text gave you the impression that you should try to get me to come to your apartment on a daily basis. And maybe I really wasn't clear enough when I said "No, I'm not going to go to your apartment." or when I said "No, I'm never coming to your apartment." or when I said "No, you're completely retarded for thinking I am ever coming to your apartment."

The next time this lazy jackass asks me to come to his damn apartment, you know what? I'm gonna do it. And I'm going to nail his roommate, then leave. Guess it might be worth the trip after all.

Call an escort service. She'll come to your apartment,

Ivy

Seriously, guys, dating gives me ulcers.

Since ending my coupled status, I've attempted to regain my title as drunken make out queen. This mission proved successful the weekend I went to Soundbar, ate pizza in a random guy's hotel room, threw up and passed out on my bathroom floor, then made out with a hot German with a lip ring (Not necessarily in that order. Okay, fine, in that order...)

The following weekend, I met two adorable and shockingly literate men while out... and while I didn't sloppily make out with them in any alleys, I did give both of them my number to play my odds (Okay, fine, and made out with one of them in the alley. And the other in a basement.) Well kids, when it rains it pours, and Mr. Friday and Mr. Saturday soon became Mr. Sunday Night Date and Mr. Monday Night Date.

Somewhere in between trying on my 47th outfit and listening to three different Tegan and Sara albums, it hit me: Dates don't excite me. Dating is a lot like reading James Joyce novels. I don't actually want to do it, but I feel like a lesser person if I don't. There's nothing fun about one dimensional conversation, having to shave my legs, or pretending to eat less than Kate Moss.

Why, why, oh why can't it be socially acceptable to make out with hot exchange students every weekend right before they move back to Mozambique/Liechtenstein/Bolivia? Why do I have to....get to KNOW people? Or even worse...start to CARE about people?

Maybe it's a slightly cynical, misanthropic attitude. But expectations tend to lead to disaster, whereas one time make outs tend to lead to hilarious stories. Although I guess disaster leads to hilarious stories too.

Say goodnight and go,

Ivy

Ivy the coupled

Being in a relationship is a lot like buying a pair of 4.5" heels. It seems so glamourous, but once you're in them it's just a lot of stumbling and pain...plus you look like an asshole. After a full year and a half of being less committal than a moderate voter in the 2004 election, I finally entered a relationship. Cue the flowers, candies, dates to every party, soup when I'm sick, and rides to the airport, right?

Wrong, wrong, oh boy, so wrong. I guess I've always prided myself on not being the type of girl who swoons over The Notebook. Until I remember that while Ryan Gosling may not do it for me, I AM the type of girl who swoons over The Princess Bride. Whether we like to admit it or not, we've all glamorized relationships. And in some respects, those of us who have stayed single the LONGEST probably glamorize them the most. I mean, for Christ's Sake, if it takes a year and a fucking half for me to finally get back into one, shouldn't it be the most incredible thing since Zac Efron's six pack?

I'm still on the fence with this one. My recent relationship was with a cute, funny, intelligent guy who seemed like a perfect fit. Except the Prince Charming didn't exactly come with the white horse; our ensuing relationship was probably about as romantic as a junior high dance. But the only flaw I could find with the relationship was that it was lacking in that Disney magic... he still treated me kindly, made me laugh, and snuggled with me. The only thing really lacking was that box of chocolates.

So how much IS a box of chocolates, besides 1700 calories? Apparently enough to destroy my relationship, and I didn't even know it. Because as much as we like to pretend we are progressive, and that we don't want to be treated like the damsel in distress, I'm pretty sure that only applies to getting an equal paycheck. When it comes to dating, we still want flowers and candles and all that cheesy bullshit we make fun of our friends for liking. Is it hypocritical? Well, yes. But we have boobs, so deal.

Everyone always tells me relationships take work. And maybe they do, but guess what...that's probably why I hate relationships. Everything else in my life takes work. Can we just skip ahead to the free dinners and affection? Deep down I have a sneaking suspicion that relationships that really work DON'T take work... and maybe I'm unrealistic, but I think that just means I have to find someone as unrealistic as I am.

Holding out for the white horse, palace, and all,

Ivy

I might as well date cardboard cutouts

Friday night I went out with a Northwestern med student who picked a wonderful restaurant, told me how lovely I looked, slightly resembled Zach Braff, is going to do volunteer work in India...

OH, and hated his family, hated his roommates, hated his friends, and hated not staring at the hot blondes two feet away from us. Whether he was calling his roommate's girlfriend a "dumb bitch" or telling me which drink to order, he never failed to amaze me. And how did I end up in this situation?

Did you read the first paragraph? Hello, I could bring him home to mother, grandmother, and my panties. But the thing about guys who are perfect on paper is that they know this is enough for most women. Who cares if he is charming? All he has to do is cite his future 6 figure salary and prestigious degree, and enough hot mommas will be spitting out "No, no. Go ahead. Order my drink without asking. Doctor knows best!"

Come on, people, how many more Ted Bundy's and Craigslist Killers do we need before we realize... no matter how many superficial qualities a dude fulfills, that does not in any way mean he is someone worth your time. Look, I'm not telling you that you need to be so deep that you start dating really affectionate homeless guys (awww, how sweet, he's jacking off to me on the el! now there's a man who's not afraid of PDA!), but go into everything with a grain of salt.

I went out with this guy under the impression that he was going to woo me. I mean, he made a dinner RESERVATION...guys don't even do that anymore. But the more I looked into it, the more I realized the signs he was a douche were always there. For Christ's sake, his pick up line was "Let's get this out of the way, what's your name?" And the way he asked for my number by saying, "So, are we actually gonna hang out, or should I not bother?" was simply MAGICAL. 

Please read the above paragraph. Those things happened the night we MET. WHY DID I SAY YES TO HIM. I'm not that shallow, but look, it's biological; women want successful men. So by the time he's telling me he's looking to do his rotations at U of C, I was ready to bend over and start presenting, okay?

Well, kids, there's different ways for a man to be successful. Yes, ambition and looks are attractive qualities...but you know what else is attractive? Being a decent human being. I mean it...trustworthiness, honesty, compassion, kindness....kinda fucking hot, guys. At LEAST as hot as a fleeting resemblance to Zach Braff.

So, alas, I will not be enjoying his rousing company again. And I hope one day he is quite happy with his busty wife named Courtney who laughs and coos at everything he says, even when he's saying "Honey, it's so cute when you pretend to have opinions about things." Because only in a perfect world are hot Ivy Leaguers actually decent people.

postscript: I am well aware of Ally's hot Ivy Leaguer who is a decent person. This does not count as Ally's life is absolutely insane, and should not be considered a standard for normal people.

The hardest part of breaking up is getting back your stuff...or the breaking up part (and yes, I quoted No Authority)

Alright ladies (and the few of you gentlemen out there), after chatting with my younger sister today, I've decided it was necessary that I blog about something I'm very knowledgeable about: Breaking up with people.

Specifically, breaking up with someone that you have no business even being in a relationship with anymore.

Background story: My sister, Little Ally and her boyfriend have recently (read: a majority of their relationship) been hitting a few bumps. They argue/full on fight a LOT. Neither one likes them to keep the company of the opposite gender if they're not around. And they need to know what the other is doing at all times, probably to make sure it is nothing they wouldn't approve of. Also, BF is a little controlling (not excessively, but a smidgen more than most semi-insecure 17 year old boys are). Don't get me wrong though, other parts of their relationship are wonderful, buuuut I'm just picking out the bad to make my point (Yay selective observation!).

Anyway, Lil' A decided to start listening to me and literally every one of her friends who said it may be best if they broke up. So she decided to do what most college freshmen do the first week of livin' in the dorms- dump her boyfriend. Well, BF didn't like that idea. He proceeded to tell her the dreaded words that will make most girls change their minds. He pulled the "Don't do this, I promise I'll change, just give me one more chance" card. And she bought it. Despite everyone telling her that he cannot change forever. Well, Lil' A takes after her big sis and there was an alcohol induced incident that occurred (not saying what it was incase BF reads this). Nothing happened, buuuut, when you're trying to fix a relationship, one is typically a little more reserved.

Naturally, I told her this was a sign that deep down she didn't want to fix the relationship. She disagreed and just said it was a stupid mistake and she felt bad about it. She said she thought it would help her figure out what she wanted. Which it did not, but instead confused her even more. Wow, Shocking. Who knew fraternizing with HOT single boys who are nice to you would make staying with the boy you want to dump because he makes you cry more difficult. We proceeded to discuss (argue) about the situation. I asked her why she wanted to stay with BF and her response was "Because I love him and he was my first serious boyfriend and we've been through a lot together." Well, those SEEM to be good enough reasons, right? WRONG. Those things don't really pertain to the present. So I asked her if she's happy like, all the time with him. She said that no one in a relationship is happy all the time. So I asked her how much they fought. She said "Less". Not "not that much", or "once in a while" but "less." Hmmm. Yea. is that REALLY a healthy relationship, Lil' A? Not so much.

And I don't mean to rip on my sister, because honestly, I see SOOOO many of my friends fall into the same trap of various unhealthy relationships. I totally understand that it's completely hard to just end a relationship with someone you've been with for years, but I think there comes a point where it's just necessary. Sometimes, two people aren't compatible anymore. And that's ok. It just means you have grown as people and found yourselves. What you had was great, but you're no longer the same people you were when you met. It doesn't mean you don't love each other anymore. (I'm gonna get really cliche now) It just means that you're not meant to spend the rest of your lives together. If someone (or most of your friends) are telling you that your relationship is becoming destructive, don't be defensive, but actually listen and think about it.

Think about why you're staying together:

If "Because we love each other" is the ONLY reason. Is that really enough? Does that alone cancel out all the bad? If you're not totally happy, it's not enough.

Also, saying some variation of, "When we're not fighting, its REALLY good" is a red flag. That is not good, sweetie, that is bad. I'm pretty sure they teach you back in High School health classes that people who stay in abusive relationships say that to justify everything.

Basically, my moral of the story is that sometimes love isn't enough. Sometimes, you just end up working way to hard at a relationship that needs to end. (I'm going to be very blunt here to get my point across) When that happens, you need to break up. Cherish the good from the relationship and take it all as a learning experience from a chapter in your life and then start the new one. I promise that you will find someone even better that will treat you right ALL the time.

I'm fully aware I sound like the condescending older sister, but who cares? I'm right...

Ally

What I wish I had known about dating my freshman year

I came into college a wide eyed, boy crazy freshman. I'm leaving college...a wide eyed, boy crazy senior (give or take a few more gray hairs). To make myself feel better, I'm just going to go ahead and believe that I'm currently better at dating than I was back then. If a time machine is ever invented, I'd like to go back to my first college party and hand myself this list (although I was probably fetal positioned on the bathroom floor of a frat house, and thus unable to read):

1.) The hands down, best place to meet guys in bands is introductory level music classes. You see, every guy in some sort of crappy band mistakenly believes that one semester of Music Theory will catapult his talents beyond those of Dave Grohl (Shut up, Dave Grohl is really good at like...EVERYTHING). However, half way through the semester they will become frustrated at their inability to distinguish a c minor chord from their left testicle... or they will become frustrated that they are being forced to study Tchaikovsky and not the works of Elliot Smith. But if you are looking to snag a cute drummer, this is where they are.

2.) Clubs are not a good place to meet boys. The only thing actually attractive and socially functioning men join are sports and frats. You are not allowed to join these things. You will not find cute, heterosexual men in volunteer organizations, book clubs, lit magazines, Model UN, political groups, or knitting circles. Attractive people don't care about social issues. The one exception to this rule is environmental clubs; these are seething with attractive hipster boys, because they have been told that going green is an important issue. However, be prepared to have all of your dates consist of pointless statistics on greenhouse gases and tasteless vegan meals.

3.) If you meet a guy at the bar and spend the whole night talking and NOT hooking up, this does not necessarily mean you have formed a real connection. He is likely very annoyed by how much you have been talking, but is either too much of a gentleman or too much of a pussy to tell you that he would like you to shut up and go down on him already. 

4.) If your first date is a sushi date, he is a jackass. Jackasses use sushi dates in order seem interesting and exotic, but seeing as sushi is now so popular amongst youngfolk that it is available in dining halls, it is neither interesting nor exotic. Also, sushi dates conveniently cost a lot of money, making you feel like you're supposed to be putting out.

5.) If you give a guy your number, and he texts you every day for a week straight but does not actually ask you to hang out, all he is doing is seeing if you'll respond. So stop responding.

6.) Facebook is not a good way to develop an infatuation with someone. They have likely only read 3 of the books they've listed as favorites, and probably only know three songs by most of the artists they've listed. So while it says he loves Bob Dylan and James Joyce, he more likely loves Chad Kroeger and Dan Brown. Also, no one is nearly as fun as they appear to be in all 1,765 of their pictures. Or as attractive.

7.) If someone of the opposite sex friend requests you, and you have not actually ever spoken to them, they are creepy and trying to bank on the fact that the internet has become an acceptable form of stalking. 

8.) If someone of the opposite sex friend requests you, they want to do you. If they write on your wall, they might actually like you. A private message means they could see themselves marrying you one day.

9.) Study abroad students are sexy people with accents who are fun for a one time make out. Do not fantasize about a torrid affair or long distance relationship with them. They are only sexy people with accents who are fun for a one time make out.

10.) Group dates are annoying, and people only initiate them because they like to feel like they're not the only ones who don't get to go out and pound 18 shots of tequila on Saturday nights.

11.) Every Thursday through Saturday night is like Valentine's Day for single people; people buy you shit, tell you that you're beautiful, and sex is plentiful.

12.) If a guy is dating many people at once, it's because he needs to stick his penis into many people. If a girl is dating many people at once, it's because she needs to be told she is pretty by many people. 

13.) No matter how much anyone tells you that they are sick of playing games, they are not sick of playing games. If you are an honest and straightforward human being towards them, they will immediately tire of you and move onto the next person who fucks with their heads. What they really mean is that they are sick of not winning at games.

14.) You may think you want to date an older guy, but you probably don't. It may be dreamy and sexy the first time you wake up next to each other and he puts on a suit to go to work, but you will be immediately turned off when you take him to a party and he turns to you and asks, "...what's beer pong?"

15.) Speaking of beer pong, if two girls play beer pong against two guys, at least one boy/girl pair will hook up. This is because both sides have just consumed copious amounts of beer, and the girl team has likely been lifting up their shirts the whole time as a form of distraction, resulting in a semi-boner from the boy team. 

16.) You're considered "dating" someone after the 4th date. Alternatively, you're considered "dating" after one real date and 10 half ass dates where you just talk for half an hour then hook up in your dorm room.

17.) You don't need to dress up to go to the library, because you are never, ever going to find a boyfriend at the library. Everyone is busy studying, and even if they are checking you out...they are not going to hit on you. Do you even realize how awkward that would be? Wear sweatpants.

18.) Most (I say MOST) girls don't like sports, and most guys don't really like Gossip Girl. This is just a thing people say to seem different and in tune with the opposite sex. For girls, it is also an excuse to wear slutty tied up jerseys and booty shorts.

19.) If he still makes out with you after you've thrown up, he's either so in love with you that even your vomit is appealing to the senses, or a bottom feeder. 9 times out of 10, it's the latter.

20.) No matter how much you think you know about dating, and no matter how realistic you think you've become...there's always going to be someone who comes along and makes you forget every damned thing you've learned. You will turn to an idiot and allow him to treat you like crap. You will also think it's okay that he forgets your major every time you speak, or doesn't respond to texts before 10 pm. Because he is dreamy.

I might as well just date Jack Daniels

I don’t even know where to start on this one. Largely, I don’t know where to start on this one because I am completely hungover right now. My hypocrisy is only matched by my incoherence. The fact that alcohol is even such an integral part of the dating process that it had to be included in this book is mind boggling. It seems odd that somewhere along the way, people decided that it was a good idea to severely impair your judgment before meeting potential dates. Yet it has become commonplace. People often meet people at bars and parties, where they are drunk. They then go on dates which include cocktails or wine, where they are drunk. They then introduce their significant others to their friends by going out for, you guessed it, some drinks. Doesn’t anyone do good old fashioned cocaine anymore?

Alcohol was able to become the cornerstone of dating largely because, in moderation, it would actually be a fine idea. People are shy and fumbling when they first encounter someone whose sex organs they would like to touch. One or two drinks makes people less reserved, more talkative, and more open. But this is America, the land where you can never have too much of a good thing. Stores like Sam’s Club and Costco thrive because people absolutely need to buy 5 gallon drums of hummus and mayonnaise. When people realized one or two drinks could help the dating process, they fallaciously reasoned that 6 or 7 would help even more.

Well I just want to break it down for you. You’re dumb when you’re drunk. When you’re drunk, $30 worth of Taco Bell is a really good idea. Translate this to mating decisions, and your potential partner is the human equivalent of 5 chalupas, 6 crunchwrap supremes, and a bag of cinnamon twists at 4 in the morning. Now my next point. Dating is already hard for you when you are your coherent, intelligent self. People are confusing. Communication gets muddled. Intentions are often unclear. So, really, do you think things are less confusing, muddled, and unclear when you’re drunk? Half of society forgets how to even use proper English when they’re intoxicated (have you read some of those texts you’ve sent at 2 am?) Chances are they’re not going to remember the core communication principles essential for meaningful human interaction.

Now I know what you are thinking. You have probably met a guy, made out, exchanged numbers, and then actually had a blast on your first date. Yes. I have also done this, jerk, it’s not like I live in a cave. But does that actually happen often enough for you to believe meeting someone while severely intoxicated is a foolproof, or even desirable, method? I’m guessing it’s more akin to showing up at an open call for American Idol; It COULD end up in your favor, but is more likely to result in your humiliation. So you can exchange numbers with Johnny Backbar, and maybe you should just to increase your odds. But please admit to yourself first that you actually know nothing about him, and while he could share your love of classical music, he probably listens to Nickelback. 

In and of itself, there is nothing wrong with meeting a potential date at the bar. There isn’t something evil about those four walls that makes everyone in them a poor mate. What is making everyone a poor mate is that they are pounding drinks faster than you can say “I’m afraid to be sober because I’m less interesting that way.” If you start chatting someone up mid martini during happy hour, and the conversation gets awesome, great. Unfortunately, how many times do you actually do that? I’d hate to break it to you, but no healthy relationship has ever begun with a wicked hangover and a discarded plan B box on your nightstand (notice how I don’t say ‘no relationship’...just no healthy relationship).

I have nothing against hangovers or birth control. What I am pissed at society about is the  fact that the main way of meeting dates entails severely impaired judgment. Read that sentence over. Think about how true it is. Think about how it makes absolutely no sense. Now I’m going to restate it: the main way of meeting potential life partners entails you and them having severely impaired judgment. And you wonder why you’ve been going on a lot of first dates where you discover that you and the other person have nothing in common. That is because when you have ingested so much tequila that your grandmother is crying in heaven, you’re not thinking of finding out how smart or witty that person is. All you really make sure is that they’re not a cannibalistic serial killer. Then after you’ve drunkenly hooked up, you check up on their personality. Considering a good 75% of society actually has really terrible personalities, odds are not in your favor, drunkie. 

Not to mention, oh, the beer goggles. I actually believe that beer goggles are a myth. Just because someone is a little blurrier than usual doesn’t mean you’re going to start confusing Nick Nolte for Jude Law. No, what you’re getting are beer standards. One drink into the night, you’re still looking for an attractive doctor who loves Hemingway and eskimo kisses. A few more drinks into the night, and that man still hasn’t shown up (he must be getting tanked at the bar across the street). But wait, you’re still lonely and/or horny! So either smart or attractive has to disappear from your list of standards, and if you’re as shallow as I am, smart is going first. Great, so already your standards have expanded to include drooling morons. Several more drinks into the night, and there are no available idiot hotties to speak of. But you’re drunk, and you’re starting to remember how your dad never loved you enough, and how no one ever holds you anymore. If your old standard of hotness was 9 or higher, it will fall to 7 or higher. 8 will fall to 6 or higher. If you were starting at a 6 to begin with, you should probably just go home at that point (but I know you won’t). The beer standards have kicked in. Pretty soon you won’t even be checking to make sure that they’re not a cannibalistic serial killer. 

Which brings me to my next point. Shouldn’t the dating screening process be, gee I don’t know, an actual process? When you’re drunk, you tend to let just about anyone through the gates. Beer standards let all sorts of things through your, what I am sure is normally very rigorous, screening process . People who are less attractive than you’d like (let’s not be shallow, but you’re not doing an hour of yogalates a day for nothing). People whose personality is not compatible with yours. Even people who wear Ed Hardy trucker hats, and it isn’t even funny at that point, okay? DUI (dating under the influence) is just way too easy, but are the results really worth it in the end? It is like standing outside your local junior high with a pack of cigarettes and Jonas Brothers tickets. Yeah, you’re going to get laid, but it’s probably going to end up in tears, regrets, and maybe some lawsuits. 

And now how do these little romps end up in tears, regrets, and lawsuits? Have you ever heard a song, “Blame it on the Alcohol?” Of course you have, they play it on repeat at your favorite bar. People realized they make bad decisions while intoxicated. But instead of trying to figure out some sort of scenario where they, God forbid, made better decisions, they decided to base an entire culture around the stupid things they do while drunk. It has somehow become highly amusing whenever someone makes a drunken mating fumble, as exemplified by the purported hilarity of hooking up with a fat chick. I’m obviously a big fan of laughing at your mistakes; it’d be far too depressing not to. But at this point we’re just glorifying stupidity, and I feel like Tila Tequila does that enough for all of us. 

But beyond the stupidity, there’s something even worse. Alcohol has also become an excuse to hurt people’s feelings sans regret. People make drunken promises such as, “I’d like to take you out to dinner” or “I’ll give you a call tomorrow” or “It’s actually pretty big you’re just looking at it from a funny angle right now.” When these untruths are revealed, no one faces any consequences. They were under the influence, after all. People can lie, make false promises, and even slap you in the face as long as they have a drink in the other hand. Well last I checked a shitty person was still a shitty person, no matter what quantity of beer they had imbibed. In a society where we have literally made alcohol a “get out of jail free” card, we are facing some dire consequences. If no one is expected or even encouraged to be a kind and decent person, is anyone actually going to be a kind and decent person? 

So congratulations, alcohol. Dating was already filled with confusion, uncertainty, and dishonesty. Nothing like a little liquid idiocy to spruce that right up. 

Do you think Michael Phelps thinks "Hmm, bronze is just as good as gold..." NO. He only wants the best.

Much like Ivy, I have also been going out excessively this summer. Now, during the school year, Ivy and I would only go out every once in a while...and now I remember why. It's because when we go out, bad decisions are made. They usually end well, but the next morning (or that night) ends with one of us, or both of us hovering over the toilet wishing that we were well enough to go to the Pre-Lollapalooza party at the Hilton.

I felt like I needed to write something based on Ivy's last post about dating for labels and not for people. Remember Lunch Date (lame label)? Well, he and I were supposed to meet up on Saturday, and I did not get a text around 11 or 12 as I was informed, but instead received a text at 2 am. Two in the freaking morning. Unfortunately, I was already in a cab headed home crying over losing MIT boy (see, again with the labels). Well in addition to MIT boy, on Monday we were out at our favorite trendy hipster bar when I turn around to find that I was face to face with a C-list celeb from a popular Vh1 dating show. And we all know how I'm a sucker for shitty TV. Well, that night ended with C-lister giving me his number. So basically, in the last few days I met a boy who is a legit rocket scientist from MIT and a guy from Vh1. And there's Lunch Date (who has a lame label) who pseudo stood me up, so naturally, he sucks.

But then, ladies (and gents?), something happened. Lunch Date called Monday. And asked me out for Thursday. And I fear it's too late for him. "Why?" you ask. Because, like Ivy, I'm so caught up in labels and man fads and gimmicks (helloooo, Vh1 star), Lunch Date is boring now. Don't get me wrong, he's a very nice guy but he's got average good looks, is of average intelligence and humor, and has a typical city businessman job. And I no longer like him. He's not bringing anything new to the table and he doesn't put forth any more effort than is typically required to date someone. Ivy asked today if I was even a little excited for the date; I responded, "I'm more excited to watch Garden State for the first time ever."

But here's the thing. I'm not sure if the problem with him is that I'm caught up with the really interesting guys I've met (ok, it has a LITTLE something to do with that). I think what has happened is these guys have shown me that I don't have to just settle for the first nice guy who buys me a meal and a $12 drink. I've discovered that attractive and interesting people DO like me. After the date a while back, I thought I found a great guy- but after some thought, I realized that I was just settling for a fallback boyfriend. He's disposable and easily replaceable (well, maybe not THAT easy, I mean, I'm still single...) I don't want easily replaceable. I want a guy who is one of a kind (God, I can be cliche sometimes). But here's the catch, I can't let it get to my head (which, by the way, my ego is HUGE after this weekend). While I was crying over MIT, Ivy was kind enough to tell me that I could have one of her Yale boy's friends...and at the time I MAY have been a bit emotional and yelled that Yale was only third best, and therefore not good enough for me. I was on the El. In the early afternoon. Oops.

The point here is simple though. Settling for someone who's "decent" is stupid. You won't be happy. If you look for better, you'll get what's better. Now, I'm not going to try to figure out if that's being too shallow or not, but you know what, it's more fun. I macked on a rocket scientist and a C-list celeb within 2 days of each other. Will I see them again? Probably not. But they were sure as heck more fun than an Average Joe.

Planning on making socialite status by 25

Ally