Being a Closet Lesbian Doesn't Impress Me

"I mean, it's literally like someone took America by the East Coast and shook it, and all the normal girls managed to hang on."
- Kiss Kiss Bang Bang, 2005

I've spent a lot of this blog discussing what I like in girls, what I miss about girls, who would fit my ideal, etc.

I don't really have stories about what I don't like. And a pretty good example of something specific came up this weekend.

Since my roommate has taken off, I have gone through some steps to break out of my comfort zone and push Operation Branch Out into effect. This means: hanging out with a new group of folk.

When Leo left his job, he struck up a friendship with his replacement Marty. Marty invited me out to a karaoke bar in Santa Monica to meet up with some of his coworkers and their friends.

The happenings at the bar weren't anything to write home about. However the ride back home is where our story begins.

Our ride home is a coworker of Marty's who also has to take two other girls to their cars back in Hollywood. I'm automatically stuck in "bitch" (the middle seat in the back) because I'm the shortest. Big fucking surprise. Marty is on one side and this sloppy, drunk girl is on my other side.

Now here is what I have learned from my OWN personal experiences with LA girls and/or girls who are obsessed with LA. You're going to have to dig out your 3D specs in order to sift through the red and blue shit storm to find the cool ones.

Wanna-Be-Star-Fuckers are the worst. This girl went on and on about this one actor (who I've actually encountered and was a complete arrogant prick). She wouldn't shut up about him. I asked her if she was one of those people who thinks that the doctors on E.R actually know how to operate. She slurred/garbled something which I will take as a "defense", but I guess we'll never really know.

The worst part was that she started talking to Marty and me about some dream she had where she was in some threesome.

There are certain (see: shitty) girls that love discussing how they are closet lesbians. Or that they have always wondered what it'd be like to be with a girl. Or will defend to the death how girls are the best kissers so "why not". Or can recall a time when they made out with their best friends, but it was "no biggie".

Nice party trick. It's really transparent and fucking annoying. This girl had her eyes rolling in the back of her head while she spewed the same thing over and over again. Her head lolling back and forth.

We get it. You make out with girls, but you're still straight.

-golf clap-

Maybe I'm alone in this train of thought, but when girls go off on this... it annoys the hell out of me. I understand that this does happen and I'm not saying that this is a negative in any way. There's a HUGE difference when girls use it as a means to make yourself more attractive or cool; I don't get it. I'm not placing my Lisa Frank binder in front of my chub hoping to get in on some of that action. It makes me think that you really have nothing else to talk about and are trying to compensate for something.

I'm only half listening to you... when in actuality, I'm wondering what they do to make the Mystery Flavor in Dum Dums.

Goddammit.

Farewell Crazy Janice!

When Crazy Janice texted me a message "hey you! i'm going to be in la tonight! meet me at barneys!!", I couldn't resist the invitation.

A very brief, lightening speed recap for those who aren't caught up on the Janice front. Crazy J is a huge attention whore, had her middle name legally changed to "Kawk Teez", and a New Zeland kiwi could shame her on an IQ test.

But she has nice sweater yams.

I don't keep in contact with ol' Janice very often (for obvious reasons). And I'm used to the game that she plays... it's a routine we've gotten into. She makes a coy, "cute" joke about how we're going to make out, we meet up for a couple of drinks, and at the end of the night we leave separately. At first I was annoyed by this, but I've come to expect it and if you expect it and don't give two shits; it's all in good fun.

This particular evening, our usual, tried & true method of interaction didn't quite go down as usual.

Now Janice has her good qualities. She is the girl you don't have to take seriously or even pretend to be interested in. She'll take any shot you put in front of her (as long as you do one too!) and can be good for just that "surface level" fun that can be refreshing. Think of her like a shitfaced pinata.

We guzzled Redbull Vodkas, took a couple of "bartender's choice" shots and in general: got down with our alchy selves.

But closing time was drawing near and I could tell my friends wanted to take off. This is how our conversation went down.

So@24: Alright I think we're taking off. Good to see you again.
Crazy Janice: I didn't get drunk enough tonight, so I'm not down to make out with you. Maybe you can try your luck again tomorrow night.

Wait. A. Fucking. Tick.

Now maybe it was booze. Maybe I have just been overly sensitive of girls who will suck the blood (see: attention) of absolutely any male they come across in order to stave off death (see: Caitlin). But I took this as a pretty presumptuous and insulting quip coming from this girl. I never made any gesture that I wanted to make out with her. Pretty fucking bold. And did she just say that she had to be drunk to make out with me?

A visual would be much better than my words will be able to describe, but stick with me. Imagine I am over-acting as all hell. Sarcasm oozing from my pores.

So@24: Oh shit! Me? You?? I get to hang out with you?? With the possibility of making out? Tomorrow?
Crazy Janice: Oh fuck you, So. You fucking asshole!

Patrons of the bar are turning to see what all the commotion is about.

So@24: So I guess we're on tomorrow right? You know, to possibly make out?

I have an enormous grin plastered to my face, I toss up two double thumbs up and start to moonwalk out the door.

Crazy Janice: FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU!

Two of my friends start to awkwardly squeeze past her.

Crazy Janice: Are you friends with that fuck??
Two Friends: Um. Yes?
Crazy Janice: Well fuck you too then!

* * *

Doogie Howser Writing in his Diary on his Commodore 64 Moment
* * *

With every nice guy, there comes this boiling point. Where we get sick of always getting trampled upon, our genuinely nice gestures get taken for granted and taking it up the ass like Jennifer Connelly's character in Requium for a Dream. These girls who just like to dangle the carrot are so transparent, it's laughable. I had to take one back for us.

And I think hit that line when she thought she had some upper hand on me.

Needless to say, I think that's the last time I'll ever hear from Crazy Janice.

Leo's Hidden Stash

I just stumbled upon a hidden "gift" that my roommate Leo left behind for me before he took off.

A stash of Trojan-ENZ condoms he never got a chance to use.

Thank for having faith in me, ol' buddy, ol' pal.

From the private collection: I caught Leo passed out mid booty-text.

Me and Ashley and Me

He sat at the entrance of the bar at in a plain black t-shirt and flashed a devil-may-care smile. We shook hands and immediately got seated. I ordered a pint of New Castle and he got himself a green bottle of Heineken.

I'm sure we were quite the sight to most of the bar patrons. A 6'5", Caucasian, male in his mid-forties dining with a 5'3", 25 year old Asian who could pass as sixteen. What could possibly bring these two guys together? Well. Blogging.

Ol' Riff Dog (his alias) and I don't share very many readers; which is not surprising considering what we both have decided to write about on our respective slices of the internet. He is a family man using the controversial website AshleyMadison.com to find... well, companionship in women other than his wife. My blog was born out of the ashes from a burned relationship and trying to find that next girl.

But then again, maybe Riff Dog and I aren't so much different. We're both looking for something. And that something is something that only our mysterious counterpart, the fairer sex, can provide.

I went into the "blogging convention" with visions of Riff Dog taking me under his wing, drinking scotch on the rocks and telling me the secrets to his success with women. What actually transpired wasn't exactly what I thought would happen, but it was fun. I mostly listened to his adventures on AshleyMadison, we exchanged our online "dating" horror stories, and I answered some of his questions he had about So@24.

Riff Dog: So, lemme get something straight..."
So@24: Sure.
Riff Dog: You had a friend who you used to go out with and she would pass out in your bed...
So@24: Mmhmm.
Riff Dog: And you didn't do anything? Nothing at all?
So@24: Nope. She's always been strictly a friend. Nothing would ever, ever happen.

Riff Dog shook his head in disbelief.

It's always hard to explain that I have girls that have been and always will be just friends.

When it was time to go, Riff was kind enough to pay the bill (Thanks, Riff!) and we shook hands once more. He headed back to his home with his family and I headed back to my apartment to finish up Season 2 of Hey Dude. Told you we were different.

What did I learn with my encounter from the electrifying and suave, Riff Dog? Unfortunately, I did not get the magical step-by-step process in which to charm my way into the heart (or undies) of any woman I encounter.

But I did walk away with something.

I want to say that there comes a point where you grow out of, or at the very least embrace, your insecurities. At 25, we're still too pussified to make moves and put ourselves on the line. We still feel too vulnerable to women.

I think there is something that comes from being at the stage where Riff is versus where I am now. He oozes of confidence and he's the type that when he knows what he wants, he goes for it. I believe that I'll be there someday.

At least, that's my theory.

I Never Felt Ugly Until I Started Online Dating

I'm officially not keen on online dating. It does NOT get So@24's official signature of approval.

Suck my balls online dating. Suck. My. Balls.

Here's the process I feel that most people (including myself) go through.

Step 1: You're single
Step 2: Find yourself dateless for a long time
Step 3: Give up on meeting anyone decent in real life
Step 4: Wait a few more months
Step 5: Reluctantly try setting up an online dating profile

Let me take a moment to speak directly to my fellow single homies:

If you think you're a failure for not making it in the real life dating scene? Wait until you fail at the online dating scene.

All the excuses you give yourself in real life to make you feel better are thrown out the window entirely. E.g. "Oh, she probably has a boyfriend" or "She probably didn't a good look at me because the bar was too dark" or "She didn't want to leave her group of friends and ruin girl's night".

I'm too ashamed to even announce on my own anonymous dating blog how many emails I sent out to girls (okay okay, less than 15, more than 5) only to get absolutely NOTHING back.

The worst part is, online dating let's you know every step of their move; no room for doubt. They actually TELL you when they read your email.

It soon becomes an obsession: whydidn'ttheywriteback?whydidn'ttheywriteback?whydidn'ttheywriteback?whydidn'ttheywriteback?whydidn'ttheywriteback?

They clearly read my carefully thought out email! How picky are these girls?? It's not like I am sending out a million emails saying "lemme see dem titties." I thought my emails weren't half bad!

I never thought I was an unattractive guy (except for that was that one time). But online dating has made me question everything about me. I'd even go so far as to say it's a much more brutal process; in which you are given a once over and then quickly tossed aside. Your looks are everything, right? You can't help but think that these broads are doing a quick glance at your profile and thinking, "OMG. Pass!"

I'm a fucking figment of J.R.R Tolkien's imagination. These girls are shrieking like cheerleaders and tossing the nearest vial of Holy Water on the computer screen.

And if that's not bad enough, the ONLY person who has "IM'd" (unprovoked, mind you) me is a 19 year old girl who has the most cliche'd alone-in a bathroom mirror with my cellphone-gritty-MySpace pics ever.

19 Year Old: hAi sWeEtIe hOw aRe yOu?"
So@24: Oh hey. Great, how about you?"
19 Year Old: GOOD

Long Pause

So@24: I should take off, I'm actually heading out to a friend's place.
19 Year Old: O! Kewl!!! tAlK tO yOu sOoN kay???


sigh.

Rum Makes Me Spit Mad Game

You ever go to a really big party? A farewell party for your best friend?

And you take a lot of rum shots?

And then you find out later that you said and/or did some really cool things? Especially to the opposite sex?

"Friends" of mine recently uncovered three gems from Leo's party on Saturday.

I can't make this shit up.

1. A cute girl named Viola was in attendance. All throughout the night I harassed her by bellowing across the party, "Viiiiiiiiiiiii-OHHHHHHHH-LAAAAAAAAAA!"



I'm not sure why in my inebriated state I thought to pull out an old Ricola commercial and change it up Weird Al style to incorporate her name into it.

Apparently I think I'm being witty/original and that girls like their unique sounding names associated with commercials about Swiss mountaineers shouting about their cough drops through a large alphorn.

2.
3. So@24: Hey Marie! Glad you could make it to the party!
Marie: Absolutely. Wow, were you just dancing to Micheal Jackson's "Beat It"? Alone?
So@24: Whoa, your shoulder is really soft.
Marie: Thanks.
So@24: It's like, dickskin soft.
Marie: Did you just say that my shoulder is dickskin soft?
So@24: You know how dickskin is really soft?
Marie: Yeah I guess it is.
So@24: See? It's a compliment.

I rule.

Leo's Goodbye

I strongly urge you to read this post before you continue. This will make more sense to those of you who have been reading since the beginning. But for those of you who just climbed aboard this wacky train, all you need is to backtrack a few and you should get the idea.

The following is my (old) roommate Leo's farewell post.

* * *

In about an hour, I am leaving LA. It's an odd thought; I've been here for four years in college and as long out, but I'm looking forward to what new things lie ahead in lands distant.

However.

In about an hour, I will be leaving So's side. The band is breaking up. And that is going to be rough.

Humans naturally seek out their own kind—they attract those with shared traits and bond with those who possess a similar character. This mutuality serves as the foundation of interpersonal relationships—friends, partners, and of course, mates. Life, amongst other things, is the search for our better half, our significant other, out match. It's what brings you all here, it's something all of you know, or at one point have known.

Inevitably, humans find their match (or they think they do), and they pair off. Visits between pals become more infrequent. People fall out of touch. Friendships rust, get squeaky from disuse, and in many cases, decay into dust. I think this is tragic. For me, friends are my significant others. They are those in whom I see myself. They are my better halves.

And, for the last several years, So and I have been, well, to use the British definition to avoid sounding gay, each other's mate. We have been each other's crutch, confidant, and coach. The R2 to the other's C3-PO. We've fought the good fight together; each watching the other's back, yelling "duck!" a moment before disaster. To put this experience into words is impossible—there's just too much.

This is where I stop talking to all the readers, and address just one of you.

Dude. Bro.

We've been hacking our way through the proverbial jungle of this world together – throwing a stick out when one of us stumbles into quicksand, offering a hand to each other as we scramble up peaks, and generally picking the tarantulas off each other's back.

We've blazed our own path through this sweltering continent they often call Life, and looking back, we see how far we've come.

And now the path ahead diverges. You look down one, I the other. Somewhere many miles and moons ahead, those paths will merge again, but for now, I'm afraid this is it. I'll give you an awkward bro-hug, something that will be terribly inadequate in expressing how I feel, shrug on my rucksack, make some snarky little comment about the heat to break the tension, then head out. And right before I disappear over the ridge, I'll cast one last look over my shoulder, smile, flip you off, and be gone.

So. Fight the good fight, and know that somewhere out there, I will be too.

And remember… I'll be back.

Are You There Online Dating Girls? It's Me, So@24.

It's almost been a week since I inched my way and gingerly peeked over the edge on the online dating high dive. And then some freckle faced fat kid wearing Body Glove shorts shoved me.

I've decided to share my first impressions so far, although it's only been a week into this magical world of Narnia. I gotta say, I imagined it'd be smooth sailing and I'd be laying back, noshing on Turkish Delight (another Narnia reference, remember when that kid eats those? What the fuck are those anyway? Alright moving along). But...

Online dating isn't as easy as I thought it would be.

1. All the more attractive & fun girls tend to not be active. I swear, 9/10 times I'm scanning through pages and pages of girls and when I land on one to get a closer inspection... they haven't been active in 3 weeks. What's with that?

2. I know I'm not supposed to make a big deal of it, but I must say it's a little disheartening to see that EVERY, SINGLE girl has her ideal height in a date as "At least 5'11"". It really frosts my apricots.

3. I wish there was a way I could sit down with some of these girls face to face and explain to them what makes a decent profile picture. Take off those damn sunglasses. Most telling feature is your eyes!

Worse than just sunglasses? A sunglasses AND a giant, floppy beach hat.

Worse than that? A picture of you taken from 500 ft away standing on a mountain top. I can't see shit. It's like someone asking me, "So which is more attractive? This Lego character with the red snap on wig? Or the Lego character holding the giant gold pirate coin?" I can't tell! They are minuscule Lego characters!

Worse than that? A picture of an extreme close up of just half of your face and "random" aka strategically placed shit scattered on your bed. E.g. a copy of "A Million Little Pieces", an open box of Altoids, and your pink iPod. That's great all that stuff defines you. But really, I'd like to see your face. More than half of it.

4. Composing emails to send to girls is surprisingly difficult. I'm stressing more over these than my blue book exams in college. This is the first impression and I'm sure a million other guys are writing emails to them as well. How do you stand out?

5. I've been pleasantly surprised that there are actually cute girls on here. And one girl had in her profile that she still has a crush on Robin from Disney's version of "Robin Hood". That shit cracked me up. It's comforting to know that there are funny girls out there that aren't taken yet.

6. La Dolce Vita: You for one, sir, are very, very, very picky. This is in NO WAY a negative, it's just that with having a very high opinion of who is attractive it offers less of who is available in the market.

I hate when she's right.

7. I got really excited when I saw that I had my FIRST email! Holy shit! But then I realized that it was a blogger who had signed onto her old profile just to track me down. The email was nice, but fuck that was a cocktease!

* * *

Those are my impressions of my first week with online dating. So far, I haven't been sold. I thought this would be like shooting fish in a barrel. Not that I'm saying that girls are aquatic sea creatures, nor do I want to aim firearms at them... but you get the phrase.

It's still early. But I'm not known for my patience.

If I fail at online dating... I don't know what I'm going to do.

The Origins

Jack: The thing about Fear Street was, they'd trick you into buying them by having some sexy looking evil girl on the front showing a bunch of cleavage.
So@24: Bantam Books totally got me with subliminal messaging. Where do you think my love of boobs came from?

Thank you, RL Stine.

Single Males In Their 20s Going Alone to a Movie Club

There's a dramatic decrease in activity when you're the single male. You no longer have that, "Hey, I'm bored. I'm coming over" plan that you come to rely on with your girlfriend. Your Friday nights are suddenly free. And guess what? So are your Saturday nights. Sunday afternoons...

Coming back from work yesterday, I tossed my keys and wallet into my desk, Leo was on his way out the door.

So@24: Where are you going?
Leo: Girl invited me out for dinner. Can't pass up a free meal, right?
So@24: I hate you.

Well fuck. Now I'm bored as hell and alone in the apartment. I paced around back and forth until I said, "Fuck it." and Googled movie times for The Dark Knight in my area. Sure enough, there was a showing in 30 mins a few blocks away.

I've never been to a movie alone before, but I figured now is a good of time as any to try tip toe out of my comfort zone. After all, I gotta get used to this shit when Leo takes off.

I took complete advantage of looking like a 14 year old and purchased a single, student discount ticket. An evening showing of the The Dark Knight on a Monday night; not too many people in the theater. These guys were probably seeing it for the second time, like myself. I grabbed a center seat and enjoyed 152 minutes of complete film-ecstasy.

When the theater lights went up, I got a chance to take in my fellow theater goers. There were about 6 or 7 of us. All men. All single. All going to a movie alone on a week night.

We were a little club. We had this unspoken bond. We weren't the single guys all scrambling to get the last decent scented candle in the "Bed + Bath" section of Target in preparations of having a girl come over. We ventured out of our studio apartments sans a girl on our arms. We were just... "those" guys.

Before stepping out to begin my walk home, I zipped up my hoodie and looked over at another guy who was lighting up a cigarette. We made eye contact and I gave him a nod:

"I'm with you buddy, I'm with you."

The Letter

A few month's ago my ex-girlfriend's (Lynn) mom Andy was hospitalized temporarily. I continued to talk to her on occasion, but I got the sense that she was bored or lonely; most likely a combination of both. "They don't let me do anything!" During one of our phone conversations I asked if she wanted to take on a project I had for her, if she was up to it.

I had a grocery bag FILLED with photographs, dating all the way back from freshman year of high school to when I first moved to Los Angeles. Unorganized, overwhelming, and I've been too lazy to ever put them in albums.

Andy offered to put them into albums for me, so I sent them to her.

The day I was moving, I had a package waiting for me on my porch. Opening the box, the smell of Lynn's house immediately bitch slapped me. I haven't smelt that in forever. It's like in the cartoons when the smell from the pie cooling on the windowsill turns into a hand and beckons to the cat which causes it to float a few inches from the ground.

There are somethings that you wait until you have time and privacy to check into. I usually wait until right before bed to open these things. I cracked open an album and started looking at Andy's work. The last album I came across was one almost entirely dedicated to Lynn and me. Pictures I haven't seen forever. Some pictures I have never seen before. It was extremely emotional, but when I was finished I closed it and had a moment for myself.

This blog has evolved into something else besides an outlet for me to express my emo thoughts about my failed relationship. But for those who still read it to get insight on "closure", the letter that my exgirlfriend's mother tucked away in the pages of last album was something that was extremely touching and insightful. Especially since Andy, herself, is NEVER a serious person and rarely addresses the more serious subjects of life.

Reading her letter, I could feel my eyes burn a bit and got that "throat chokey" feeling (the smell didn't help), but when I finished and closed the last leather bound album, I was smiling. I've posted it below for those who still need that insight:

8/23/08

Sweet boy,

Well, here they are. I hope you weren't in a hurry.

It's weird. It turned out to be very emotional. Just thinking of your life, my life, and Lynn's. Who would have ever known how all of our lives would go?

There was a certain period that I know was the best ever to me, but I know that it is not good to think of the past too much. I am slowly learning to look forward at all three of our lives.

Now maybe I can think positively and just watch you two and myself go ahead. For a long time, I couldn't do that. Now we both can, and we might even be really happy.

Lynn too.

I hope we can always stay in touch. I know I want to.

Love,
Andy

"F*ck it! We'll Do It Live!"

First off. Huge thank you to everyone who took the time out to sit down and bust out some fresh, ill and downright funky comments on helping me construct an online dating profile. Couldn't have done it without you guys, fo sho!

Well my profile is live now. It's up. It's running. Shit be real.

And I've received some activity so far. It's not anything to start giggling like a Japanese school girl about, but it's something.

So far, two 19 year old girls have "winked" at me. I gotta tell you, I am completely baffled what "winking" is. I'm assuming it's the equivalent to "poking" on Facebook. I question how effective this is though, because the girls I know get cold shivers down their spine when they receive a "poke" from someone they don't know.

But maybe it's different with an online dating site? Maybe it's expected; what you're supposed to do?

My other initial thought: what the fuck are 19 year olds doing on a dating website?? These girls should be in their prime! Making friends while playing flip cup in preparations for a college dance! Piecing together the events of the night while walking home from a one night stand!

In any case, 19 is a little too young for me. It was flattering to get any attention whatsoever, I will admit, but I didn't know what to do back. Do you write an email? Do you give a sympathy "wink" back? But I noticed that there was an option that said something along the lines of "Let them know you aren't interested".

I clicked on that link anticipating that it would allow me to construct some type of response letting them down gently. But no. It just says, "We've now informed them you're not interested"

Shit. Shit! I feel terrible! These girls put themselves digitally out there and I just rejected them with a swift click of my mouse. What did they get!? An eHug? An iThinkWe'reJustFriends? Bahhh!

That's all I got so far. More to come!

You'll Help Me w/ My Online Dating Profile, Right? Pt. 4: The Profile Pic

I toiled for a few days over this decision... whether or not to remove everyone's favorite blue bars for this very specific post.

However, I didn't want to go down the path of KISS and reveal my makeup. The mystery is all for naught. What if you found out that the Gorillaz aren't really cartoon electronica musicians? Or if RS27 was no longer symbolized by two hastily drawn Indian dudes high-fiving each other. Wouldn't some of that magic be gone? You get the idea.

So although you won't be able to get THE BEST indication of these pictures (after all, the eye are everything), you can get a general sense of what they are. And then you can rip them to shreds. This are the top pictures my friends have recommended and I now show them to you:

Pic 1

This is a classic. The one that you're most used to seeing. Everyone loves a chuckle-y, candid picture right? And I hear girls love guys with big... watches.

Pic 2

This is me in my true form. Yes. That's a box of Pabst, a bottle of Smirnoff, and a large liter of red (Punch). Behind the blue bar shields my tears of joy. I think that my glasses are a nice touch.

Pic 3

I was told by a couple of friends that this one of their favorites. And a couple of others that having my baby nephew in the picture gave off the impression that:

a. I'm trying too hard
b. It's too obvious I'm trying to impress (girls + guy good with babies = TOTALLY IN BRA!)
c. Might think that I actually HAVE a child

Cooky, show me some love here.

Pic 4

I thought this one was just a funny picture. My friend Leslie bought me an Acceptance tshirt that was clearly a size too small. I wore it out when she was in town as a joke.

* * *

Okay. Those were the Top 5 picked from a few friends of mine. I, once again, throw myself at the mercy of the readers.

Pick which one goes up and then my profile goes live!


Who knew constructing the ultimate online dating profile would be so much work? Time for a beer.