On Dating Vegan:

First off, let’s agree that being in a relationship consists of 80% eating. The weekend brunch, the Friday night fancy dinner, late night snacks… they say every happy couple gains 15 pounds.  I know I did, in fact I went on a diet the day after my last relationship ended. Nothing says sexy comfort like a soft pudgy mid section. But lets face it people, food is the center of boring relationship time. So what does one do when the choices of restaurants are severely limited by your partner? Do I convert to eating a less delicious version of what I enjoy most? Do I embrace the tempeh bacon, the soy cheese, the tofu scramble? To all my bacon loving friends out there I have two words: Hell. No.

So that alone set the tone for my next dating adventure. Vegan=more boring. Yes I dated a vegan in high school, but I was 14 and experimenting with sexuality, drugs, and yes even vegan dating. I never considered it a real possibility in my adult life. So here I am, with a vegan, drinking hot chocolate (he’s drinking dark chocolate of course) in the middle of a blizzard. Now I understand from Paula Abdul that opposites attract, but I am not so sure this is true in every circumstance. For example:

1. I am a chatty Kathy. He is not. What this means is I continue blathering on incessantly while he continues nodding. This makes me so uncomfortable that I just nervously talk more revealing unnecessary details about myself. “Yeah I was thinking about a colonic. Except for you know, the discomfort of it all…Maybe a cleanse is the more reasonable option…”
2. He is a major nerd. Like he reads comics religiously, plays video games on all 4 of his systems, and spent a year and a half of his life playing World of Warcraft as a source of income. Yes, I said income. Meaning he sold his “gold” for real money. Am I the only person that finds this strange and ironic? While I have been accused of being a dork, an eccentric, a hipster, or in fact a total weirdo, but a nerd? I think not.
3. He is chubby. Possibly fat. I thought vegans ate fucking vegetables?? Salads, broccoli, celery?? This is my diet menu!! Why then is he holding on to his pounds like he’s carrying baggage? Oh, did I mention his baggage?
4. There are 3 suitcases that can be declared as baggage. Suitcase number one has his drug charge. Now I’m from California so when it comes to weed I don’t judge as harshly. He was living in Missouri (which I now understand to be hickville) when he got caught with a pound of weed. Why did he have a pound of weed you ask? Obviously he was dealing to his World of Warcraft friends. How else can you justify not moving for 8 hours a day and being fixated on a fictitious world?
5. So. What’s in suitcase 2 and 3 you may ask? How bout kid 1 and kid 2. Yeah. As baggage goes, that’s pretty heavy. Kid 1 comes from the first time he ever had sex and she got pregnant. That movie Juno, turns out to be based on his real life. Except that Michael Cera’s character should have been played by Jonah Hill. And you must tell yourself well lesson learned…shit happens..condoms suck…blah blah blah… Well how bout making that mistake TWICE! As in two different baby mamas! He thought she was on the pill…pull out method usually works…blah blah the usual. EXCEPT THAT’S NOT USUAL!

Is it? Have I gotten to the age where everyone has baggage? Kids and a pot belly? Is that what my quarter life crisis has come to? I have only the anti social nerds to choose from! Sex in the City did not describe the chronicles of the quiet nerd! Is not outrage the appropriate response? He was sweet and nice, but is it horrible that I need to a guy to be a fit, well paid asshole! Treat me like shit, and then I love you! As long as you pay for stuff and have the ability to lift me off the bed, then Im picturing my trophy wife life! So Im sorry to say, vegan take out is NOT on the current menu. 

The Old Switcheroo.

Many have attempted the old switcheroo, but many have failed. Im still waiting to find out the results, so hang on to your pannies folks. But in the meantime, let me give you the backstory:

It all begins with a superbowl party. We will call the individuals involved Squish Face and Nepalese Squeeze. I'll admit I went to the party (which was a party of a friend of a friend's fuck buddy) with the intention of meeting someone new (every opportunity ladies) when in walks squish face. He rolls up with all his squish face swag and delivers the classic line, "I like your glasses (wanna fuck)." The latter part was only implied of course. So my horny desperate self is like ok ok, squishy isn't that bad looking...I'll rock with this. We chit chat, flirt, the whole bit....BUT in between conversations I start sweet talking Nepalese. First of all, he's Nepalese....I mean raise your hand if you've met someone from there. And all my girls holla how many foreign dudes Ive picked up in my day. So exotic=me likey. Also from San Diego. Nice. Also studied in Madrid...ok ok...asks me about art...ooooohhh shieeet. And for the kill: HE'S RICH BITCH! Rich as in being an investment banker, which is dime a dozen around here, but guys Im a broke ass art teacher so I'll take it. So I give him my digits..oh so sly...but I turn around and there's squishy. Did I mention that they are best friends?

Don't get me wrong, squishy is totally doable. Yes his features are unnaturally close together, but meeting a man in New York is like trying to find an apartment. You always have to give up something. And anyway this man spit game like he was throwing dice! He walks me to the train, we make out a little, I coulda sucked on those lips all night! And apparently so could he, cause the next night he asks me out. We get drinks at his local watering hole, only to invite me back to his place for make outs. So this is fine, in general I make out like I'm in middle school. Except here's the problem: how do we say this.....He took it out. He took IT. OUT. And more than that he somewhat insisted that I suck it. Now I consider myself a very giving person, but I resume my pretend middle school level of experience and ignore it. Then I find an appropriate excuse to leave.

Don't misunderstand. I'm not even as perturbed as I ought to be. It's just that his desperateness stank up the place....or maybe it was his complete eagerness to use his penis to find the glory hole that is my vagina. I mean damn. Let a girl learn your last name first. And here this guy is making me feel bad that I don't want to put out on the first date!

So the switcheroo had to be done. I liked the other friend too, and this one was..how do you say...wearing his penis on his sleeve. Strategy had to be imployed. How long do you wait....a few days...a week..a month? How about a week? This coincides with Valentines day. I send the vaguely friend zone text...
(paraphrased)
Me: Im going to a few galleries this Saturday if you want to come
Him: Im busy this Saturday. But do you wanna meet for drinks tonight?
Me: You serious? Its Valentines Day?!
Him: I don't believe in the sanctity of Valentines day.
Me: Ok then, saints be damned. BAR TRIVIA!

So we meet. I look hot. He looks less attractive than I remembered. He is really good at trivia and as a person who watches Jeopardy religiously, this is hot. He mentions how much money he makes like 3 times. I'm shallow, so while annoying I tolerate it. He also talks like he's deaf. Like completely unaware of his octave level. And this is coming from a LOUD person. I kept wanting to shush him the whole night. He pays for everything. We go to an obnoxiously romantic bar (per my suggestion) where literally everyone is making out. Like the people at the bar, the people in the corner, the people in the middle of the room have their legs wrapped around each other....everyone. So clearly we make out, after all I'm 12. He drops me off in a cab. But acts for the most part like a gentleman--he keeps grabbing my butt, you'd swear this thing had handle bars. But I being the good girl I am pretending to be, I leave him alone in the cab to think about me while he jerks one off.

So here's the question guys: Have I pulled off the switcheroo? Is this an acceptable course of action? Am I pulling a Yoko for breaking up their bro love? Will I get both or will I get none? And most importantly: Am I really a make out whore?

These questions and more will be revealed with more inappropriate details than necessary on the next:
THINGS THAT GO BUMP IN THE NIGHT!

Valentine's Day is for Suckers.

So its Valentine's Day, the DAY of all romance days, the day of all card carrying, stuffed animal toting, flowering smelling, fake and insincere displays of love to end all days. Yet the smug people in couples like to feel sorry for the poor schmoes like me that have no one to waste money on. As such, I've created the following list:

Reasons Why I am Happy to be Single on Valentine's Day:
1. I do not have to fight for a reservation at a mediocre restaurant for a $100 mediocre meal.
2. I do not have to subject myself needless hair removal in which I endure scalding hot wax to look like a small child. I am not scouring my nipples for that random hair, or plucking that ugly mole hair out. In fact, I haven't shaved my legs in a week.
3. I don't have to receive some shitty standard "girls gift" like a drug store perfume, or a crappy stuffed animal. I mean seriously, what does a grown up even do with a stuffed animal? I don't want to have to throw it away when the guy isn't looking.
4. Let's face it married people. Once married getting laid can feel like a chore. Like "oh damn I guess its Valentine's Day so we better do it." or "Damn guess I better give a BJ." As a wise friend once told me, sometimes you just don't want a dick in your mouth. Me? I get to finish this bottle of wine and pass out to The Office. Or if Im feeling frisky I can pull out the rabbit. He always loves me and always does what I want him to do. And I never feel guilty about it.
5. Ok I'll say it. All I really want to do is eat candy. And I don't want that old shitty candy in the heart shaped box. Give me snickers. Give me skittles. Give me Godivas. But don't make me endure another box of drug store candy, where I need to bite into every piece only to spit out every chalky nougat bite. Or if it was good candy, I don't want to share. Its my candy damn it. MINE.

Honestly, my best Valentine's Day starred a booty call and multiple orgasms. No spend the night. No cuddles. Just a marathon of loving and a good day to you sir. And I didn't have to buy him a damn thing. Was your couple Valentine's day this rad?