Saturday, January 30, 2010

Dating, but Not.

I haven't been on a "date" in a while. Hence, the silence. I haven't been dating because 1) eharmony was exhausting and not fruitful, and 2) I was crushin' on someone else. It's funny how much clearer things are when you're on the other side of them. In the thick of this, I could not see the forest through the trees. Now, I'm hitting the clearing and seeing, wow, I just wasted a lot of time on that.

I was told from the outset that this male was not interested in a relationship. I did not listen. I guess I kinda figured that after an appropriate amount of time, he would get over the ex, realize that I was amazing....and, well, choose me. He did not. But strangely enough, it's okay.

I'd been in this weird purgatory of not knowing where we stood since we were friends.... but not just friends. Last week I did what every adult woman does. I got wasted by myself and wrote him a long incoherent email. I am very mature. We eventually discussed the e-mail and while, kindly, he did not come out and say the words, "I do not like you. Because, you smell." he didn't need to. Sometimes silence says what words do not.

As much as I thought hearing (or not hearing) that phrase would suck, it didn't. I feel surprisingly better. Freer. Now that I know that this will never become more than it is/was, I can look forward. Perhaps I should have tried my drunken tactics a few months ago.

me: "Hey! You! You're rad, I like you!"
him: "oh, yeah, about that....."
me: "oh, really? huh. Okay, good to know"

The End.

And now I can move on. I don't know if it's back to online dating or what my next tactic will be. But hey, it's a new year and now I'm not reserving part of myself in denied hope that this was going to become something.

Here's to fresh starts!

Lemon Meringue Pie (because it's sweet, tart, and FRESH!)


Lemon Filling:

  • 4 egg yolks (reserve whites for meringue)
  • 1/3 cup cornstarch
  • 1 1/2 cups water
  • 1 1/3 cups sugar
  • 1/4 teaspoon salt
  • 3 tablespoons butter
  • 1/2 cup lemon juice
  • 1 tablespoon finely grated lemon zest
  • 1 (9-inch) pre-baked pie shell
  • 1 recipe Meringue, recipe follows


Adjust the oven rack to the middle position. Preheat oven to 375 degrees F.

Whisk egg yolks in medium size mixing bowl and set aside.

In a medium saucepan, combine cornstarch, water, sugar, and salt. Whisk to combine. Turn heat on medium and, stirring frequently, bring mixture to a boil. Boil for 1 minute. Remove from heat and gradually, 1 whisk-full at a time, add hot mixture to egg yolks and stir until you have added at least half of the mixture.

Return egg mixture to saucepan, turn heat down to low and cook, stirring constantly, for 1 more minute. Remove from heat and gently stir in butter, lemon juice, and zest until well combined. Pour mixture into pie shell and top with meringue while filling is still hot. Make sure meringue completely covers filling and that it goes right up to the edge of the crust. Bake for 10 to 12 minutes or until meringue is golden. Remove from oven and cool on a wire rack. Make sure pie is cooled completely before slicing.

Meringue Topping:

  • 4 egg whites
  • 1 pinch cream of tartar
  • 2 tablespoons sugar

Place egg whites and cream of tartar in the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the whisk attachment. Beat egg whites until soft peaks form and then gradually add sugar and continue beating until stiff peaks form, approximately 1 to 2 minutes. Use to top lemon filling.

Yield: topping for 1 (9-inch) pie

Thursday, January 28, 2010

It’s not me. It’s you. And your teenage angst.

Two of my best friends have lately suffered the same agonizing, horrifying fate.

It begins innocently enough. Two people meet, go out on a couple of dates. Maybe hit the sack once or twice…”I really like you”…”I like you, too”…and then bam…out of left field someone drops the, “I think you are great, but I’m just not emotionally available right now.”

Sometimes it continues with an explanation, “Once, in high school my girlfriend cheated on me and it ruined me for life. Even though that was over 8 years ago, I’m just not ready to let anyone in.”

Then one glistening tear falls down their face. So. Much. Emotion.

These words are, of course, teenage angst in a new and demented form. In New York it happens once every 13 minutes. Or once every 5 minutes if you are unlucky enough to inhabit Brooklyn. Unfortunately, most of my friends are attracted to Brooklynites like a moth to the flame.

And then, after the bomb of “emotionally unavailable” explodes the relationship into a zillion tiny little pieces that can never be put back together, he or she discovers that emotionally unavailable person is dating someone else. And then he or she feels like shit. Complete and utter shit. The type of shit that gets stuck on your shoe, dries and then leaves shit all over your apt in little dried up shitballs.

Even after the shitballs are vacuumed and the carpet fabreezed, they live on because you’ve only destroyed their body. Not their soul. Because the shitballs were really horcruxes and you only destroyed 3 of the necessary seven. That is shit science, my friends.

The shitball seed of doubt has been planted, and for weeks, nay months, every action of the opposite sex either affirms or denies their self worth.

We have all been there. I know I certainly have many times. And I know what you are thinking, and you are correct, she is totally not as pretty as me. She has nice hair, but other than that she is busted. And her personality sucks, too. Also. Did I mention that she sucks? One more time: she sucks.

But despite how sucky she may be, reality is he picked her. And they are in love. And they will probably get married and dilute his glorious, glorious genes with her sucky ones, and they will have completely average children who eat glue and almost fail out of college due to their excessive drinking habits, whereas our children would have written the next great American novel and won the Nobel Peace Prize for their work with orphans in the Congo.

We all have choices. He chose wrong. But that is not the point.

The point is: in his emotionally unavailable pity party he didn’t realize those things and he doesn’t deserve to have Noble Peace Prize winning children with me. The end.

Also, some people want average. They don’t want the challenge that comes with smart or funny or quirky or whatever else. Some people just want what society has told them to want and they don’t want to work hard for it.

The best way I can describe this is by paraphrasing something this guy said on The Real World last night to describe a girl he was dating.

“I like her because she is blond. I like that she has a nice body. I like that she says ditzy things when we hang out. I like that she has a high voice. Those are important qualities to me.”

Despite the fact that everything that comes out of his mouth is usually purposefully inflammatory, he was being serious. I turned to my roommate and said, “That is what is wrong with kids today.”

Someone’s hair color is not a quality. And someone worth being with isn’t going to think that way, because to think that way is to make everyone interchangeable. That is some Brave New World bullshit.

In my wise old age of 24, I know that I never want to be reduced to a string of physical qualities and any guy who doesn’t see how awesome I am for actual, quality reasons isn’t worth my time.

Sometimes relationships don’t work out for real reasons, clearly, some people just aren’t compatible. But if the “emotionally unavailable” card is ever played my advice is to run. Run far, far away. Because nothing screams “emotional immaturity” as loud or as clear. Even if they are 32. And you are better without them, because they didn’t appreciate you fully to begin with.

And when they do date someone else who you are far superior to, take some solace in the fact that they probably only like them for their stupid hair and fat ass. And you, my friend, are much, much more than that.

Lastly, do everything in your power to destroy those last horcruxes. My general advice is to tell my friends to get a hobby, which they don't really appreciate, but I think is sound advice. It will make you even more well-rounded than you already are.

Recipe for Shitballs.

Step on some shit.
Let it dry out.
Walk around your Apt.