Dating with a Dash v2.0

Well, hello there! I bet you thought this blog was defunct, but you were wrong! Like the winter season, we were in hibernation but now we’re back with a vengeance! The summer months are quickly approaching, leaving us with the desire to get out there and explore not just the city, but the dating world as well.

You will notice a few changes to the blog, however. Once a trio of ladies, we are now down by one. Ms. Kelly has entered the realm of having a Plus One and will no longer be a contributor to this illustrious blog. She has found her Significant Other by the hand of yours truly and I take all credit for making this match happen. Male or Female, I full out expect them to name their first child Emily. Secondly, we will be introducing a male contributor! Gentleman X will be blogging occasionally and I think a male perspective here will be welcome and………interesting. J

Those are the updates here at Dating with a Dash of Salt. We’ll be posting new entries soon!

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.

I'm probably better off with the burrito.

Three weeks ago, right at the beginning of this blog experiment, something kind of crazy happened. I met a boy I really liked, and he liked me back. It was insane. And clearly, short lived.

T-bag (as I will call him because I’m feeling neither creative nor affectionate) and I met online as many blossoming relationships do these days and we hit it off immediately. Jokes! We both had them. He worked in finance and does stand up, and myself, well I love douchbags and think I’m hysterical, so it was a match made in OkCupid heaven. We exchanged emails, wrote back and forth a few times, and decided to go on a real date.

And it was a real date. We went out to dinner and then saw a show. It was probably the most real date I’ve been on in my 24 years. We had so much fun, we talked for hours, played buck hunter, some other dude hit on me in front of him, it was perfect! We made out and he was totally a good kisser. This, I thought, could actually be going somewhere. As Aretha Franklin told me, it’s in his kiss.

We went out a few more times, real dates! And then he came to my birthday party after telling me he wasn’t sure if he could make it. He was actually at the bar waiting for me when I showed up with a huge shit-eating grin on his face. T-bag was so into me, all my friends could tell. They all congratulated me for dating a non-douchebag. I was either on, or somewhere near, cloud 9.

In this weird state of euphoria I decided to do something for him that I never do. Ever. I invited T-bag over for a huge brunch extravaganza that included spinach Gruyere crepes, roasted potatoes and blood orange mimosas. I even baked cookies with Mandy the night before. I stood in my kitchen and thought…this shit just got real.

It was his idea to have a “day-date,” and we’re both so busy that I didn’t really think anything of it, although perhaps that should have been my first sign. The second sign should have been that he didn’t show interest in taking any article of my clothing off. But he’s not a douchebag, and he likes me, and is interested in more than my fantastic, fantastic breasts. I thought the date went spectacularly. We talked about hanging out more during the week and how close my work is to his so we could even maybe meet up for lunch some times.

A couple of days pass and I don’t hear anything from him, but it’s not unusual because neither of us has the unreasonable expectation of immediate responses or daily communications, so I shoot him a quick email about grabbing dinner at some point during the week. He calls me that night, again nothing abnormal until he says, I need to tell you about something.

Oh fuck. I know what that means. I’ve been around this block plenty of times.

You see, T-bag had this ex girlfriend and they broke up a while ago, how long ago I’m unsure, but he randomly ran into her at a party last week. And wow, then randomly again, they ran into each a second time. Funny how that happens. And they had a long talk and they are going to try real hard to work things out between them because they were together for a long time, or something. And he is really, really sorry, I am an amazing girl and he had so much fun with me, and he has been on the receiving end of this so many times, so you see, he knows how it feels. But he really, really wants to be friends with me and maybe buy me a burrito some time.

Yes, he said a burrito.

And I said, "Well, T-bag, thank you for telling me, I understand. I hope everything works out for you. Maybe we will get a burrito some time, but I need to go, it’s late."

And thus ended my only some-what successful attempt at dating in ny (thus far), with a guy who would rather be in a complicated mess with an ex girlfriend and provide me, the described awesome girl he had so much fun with, the offer of a burrito.

I suppose it is time to try again. Hopefully next time my consolation prize will be upgraded to a veggie burger. I think if I work hard enough, and get enough couples back together, I can get probably get at least a few McDonalds gift cards.

Something Naughty I did to Mandy: A Craigslist Call for Proposals

Being the wonderful friend I am, and because Mandy kept talking about creating a 3-point presentation to give to potential suitors, I wrote the following and posted it on craigslist missed connections. I received many, many glorious responses, vetted them for Mandy and sent her out on dates, which you will hear about as they happen. <3 Kelly

This is what started it all:

A three point presentation on why Amanda would make the best gf ever.

In the fine spirit of camaraderie, I want to introduce everyone to your dream girl: Amanda. She is bangin, basically in every way. I would totally rail her myself, but I’m also a girl and we’re not into that. Well, maybe, but there would have to be a dude involved. A very hot dude. But, I digress…

So Amanda. She is gorgeous, tall, and brunette, in crazy amazing shape—runs every day. She is fun and funny and totally adorable, but for some reason she isn’t getting it on the regular. I have no idea why; she should be rolling five deep.

Being the children of corporate America that we are, I thought the best way to appeal to our target demographic is through a 3-point presentation on why she would make the best girlfriend ever. In the interest of time and efficiency, there is a conclusion statement at the bottom of each point that summarizes the key themes of the post.

If you are smart, funny and successful, between the ages of 24 and 32, I strongly encourage you to seriously consider the following:

1) Low Maintenance.
You want to go out with your dudes? She is cool with that. You want to split the check? She is cool with that. You want to wear gross old sweat pants and not shower for days? She is probably not ok with that, but we all have standards. Personal hygiene is one of them.

She loves drinking beer, singing karaoke, watching movies like the hangover, playing wii and tequila shots. Super chill doesn’t even begin to describe her temperament. She will bake you cookies all the time.

Conclusion: As long as you shower, you can hang out with your friends and drink beer whenever you want. Also, she is not crazy.

2) Sexual Relations.
She is down always. All the time. In the garden or in the dirt. You can do it in the pouring rain, runnin the train when it's hot or cold out How 'bout in the library on top of books? But you can’t be too loud.

I thought there was no better way to get the point across then with some Luda.

Conclusion: You will get to bone. A lot.

3) Smart & Hot & Funny: Whole Package
There are few ladies who are so accomplished, and do it with such polish (including slant rhymes). Mandy is the type of girl that your friends would tell you is way too good for you, and then hit on her behind your back. But never fear, she will politely decline their bold offers because she only has eyes for you. <- Precious.

She can quote dirty movies, talk like a sailor (when appropriate, of course) and wrestle a crocodile with one hand, all while looking fabulous. Intimidating as it may seem to be with someone who is basically perfect, she still has a few flaws to keep you interested, as in: she cannot speak French and she sometimes falls down. Other than that, I can think of nothing.

Conclusion: She is bangin.

If this sounds like the lady for you, please shoot me an email and I will put you through the vetting process.

Xoxo.

The Basics: Kelly

First things first, whenever I hear the word dossier, I think of Busta Rhymes and Pass the Courvoisier!



So other than that, this is me.

Stats:

Name: Kelly

Age: 24

Sign: Cancer, which I love since the last time I read my horoscope it was, “Today is a good day for a party.” Yes it is horoscope, yes it is. Other than that I know nothing about my sign, other than it looks like a crab.

Random shit: I love dinosaurs, reading, working out, boozin, photoshopping things, karaoke, improv comedy and art

Physical:

Height: 5’9. Fight me. I dare you.

Hair color: Blonde-ish

Eye color: Blue-ish/Green-ish

Things I find attractive on the opposite sex/first things I notice:

• Teeth – I firmly believe a person’s dental hygiene says a lot about their character.
• Critter Pants – It is incredibly important for them to look as though they are a Young Republican, but not actually be one. Nothing gets me like some J.Crew or Ralph Lauren douche attire <3
• Job – Gotta have one of these. And not at Walmart.
• Height – Please be tall, as in over 5’10.

Dating history:

Oh boy. Well, you will be hearing a lot more about these kids later, but I’ll give you the short introduction now so you have SO much to look forward to (I will refer to them as there middle names to preserve at least some of their dignity):

Gabriel: Oh, Gabe, you were such a sleazy. We dated in high school, he got my V, broke up with me two weeks later and then told me he didn’t believe that I was actually a V. So you know, amazing.

Scott: This is an epic tale spanning eight years, from my junior year in high school until an incident about four months ago that involved him having multiple alarms set around his apartment so that he could wake up and eat pineapple with hot sauce on it and still be on time for work. He also began screaming at me that I was not his girlfriend and that there was nothing between us. And then five minutes later asked, “Can we cuddle?” And friends, there are 8 more years of shit like that. It is seriously epic.

David: We dated my senior year in college during one of Scott and I’s tumultuous periods. David played ruby very seriously, and one time I found him in his kitchen, propped up by a couple of his teammates feeding him water out of the brita because he was too intoxicated to stand up or feed himself. We were supposed to have dinner with my parents. We broke up shortly after when I decided I was moving to New York. Like we were dating seriously anyways. Bitch, please.


Why I’m doing this:

I’ve lived in New York for two years and am yet to meet a (straight) man who does not physically repulse me after actually getting to know him. And CLEARLY my standards are very low. So that says a lot.

Maybe if I have a reason to go on dates I will meet someone who is actually human and likes ladies that are successful and funny and attractive.

Dating plan:

I’m going to do what Emily and Mandy tell me, which I suppose includes:

• Online dating
• Speed dating
• Self-help dating books
• Blind dates
• Bars/social events