The Mark(us) of a True Wingman

It's been an ongoing joke on this blog (and my actual life) that Leo is the worst friend to have with you when you're single and looking for female companionship.

I've discussed it before: he's the worst wingman ever.

It's not intentional. Leo has actually been known to say to me (verbatim), "Let's get you out of that condo and into vagina." He always wants to help me out. But it's a problem when you're a hot piece of eye candy for girls. It's not his fault.

* * *

I haven't seen my old roommate since he moved home to save up for our European adventure, so needless to say I was excited to reunite with him for a night of boozing... just like old times. Leo met up with me and a group of our high school friends at The Blue Moon bar in Portland. He walked in the door in a long, black pea coat and Chuck Taylors. He gave me a hug and offered to buy my first drink.

Monica, a friend of a friend not known for her use of subtle hints, shot me a look as soon as she took notice of Leo. She quickly beckoned to me when Leo was occupied elsewhere and I approached her.

So@24: What's up?
Monica: Um. Your friend over there is fucking hot.
So@24: So what... you want me to put in a good word for you?
Monica: God yes.

I know Leo doesn't ever need it, but I always like to feel like I'm helping out when the opportunity arises.

So@24: Hey, my friend over there thinks you're cute.
Leo: Who? That girl?

-stared ahead-
-slurped beer-
So@24: Yeeeeeup.
Leo: Oh. Cool.

Leo clearly wasn't interested. Another one bit the dust.

Moments later, Nancy walked into the bar. Nancy was a coworker of mine when I worked at my very first job in high school. It had been years since I've last seen or even had contact with her, but through the magic of Facebook... these things tend to be possible.

She had texted me and wanted to meet up, so I told her I was at the bar with friends.

Nancy and I weren't extremely close when we worked together at the movie theater, but I do remember sharing good conversations with her while we slaved together cleaning out the greasy popcorn popper.

She was much more attractive than I remembered her; I guess people tend to grow up and change physically from high school to post college, eh? Or maybe she looked better when she wasn't wearing that beloved movie theater uniform: the vest. In any case, she had a pretty smile, ample bosom, and cute freckles. Nancy had grown up.

Nancy gave me a hug and I bought us a round of shots to start the night off. It was fun catching up with her and reminiscing over our movie theater days. I was starting to feel pretty confident about the situation. We were both drinking (heavily) and the conversation never had an awkward moment.

At some point in the night, Leo took notice of this and pulled me aside.

Leo: So what's going on? Think something might happen with you and Nancy?
So@24: I dunno... maybe?
Leo: I think you're doing alright. Remember: cool as a cucumber, baby. Cool as a cucumber.

The rest of the evening was relatively uneventful. I mingled with old friends, bought rounds of shots, introduced Nancy to a few choice members of the old gang, etc.

However, as fun and light as my exchange with Nancy was all evening... my Spidey Sense was tingling and not in the good way. I think this sixth sense develops when you're single. If you have to question whether or not the girl is interested: she's probably not. I had a feeling Nancy's interest were elsewhere...

Nancy: So your friend Leo is pretty cute.
So@24: Ahhhh... yeah, he gets that a lot. He's a good guy.
Nancy: What do you think?? Should I go talk to him?
So@24: Sure, go for broke.
Nancy: I just ordered you and I drinks, I'll be right back!

Leo was at a different part of the bar, catching up with our friend Markus. Nancy jumped out of her bar stool and bounced in his direction. I wasn't too upset, this was a situation I've run into before. I raised my whiskey and coke and downed it in just a few gulps.

Moments later, Leo tapped me on the shoulder.

Leo: How's it going with Nancy?
So@24: She's not into me!
Leo: Really? I thought things were going pretty well.
So@24: She's into you, you bastard.
Leo: Oh fuck that.
So@24: Eh. It's not a big deal.

Leo left to rejoin our friend Markus. I turned back to my conversation with my cousin Mimi and other friends.

I felt another tap on my shoulder again. It was Leo.

Leo: I just kissed Markus.
So@24: ... ... what?
Leo: I told Nancy that Markus and I were a couple.
So@24: You told Nancy you were gay??
Leo: Hahaha! Yeah! She didn't believe me and called me out, so I grabbed Markus and gave him a big long kiss.

I choked on my drink and busted up laughing.

So@24: Wow. Just. Wow. You really didn't need to do that, man. I wasn't that into her.
Leo: Eh fuck it. It was pretty funny. You should have seen the look on her face. Fucking priceless.
So@24: A for Effort, but I don't think I'm down with being "default". I still got your next drink though, you fucking weirdo.

Leo threw an arm around me and lead me back to the bar.

Leo: Besides, she wasn't that cool anyway. We still got New Years to look forward to.


I've heard of friends talking up their buddy to girls. I've heard of friends taking home "the ugly girl" in order to help out their friend in need.

But I've never, ever heard of a friend kissing another guy as a means of helping his buddy get the girl.

Maybe Leo is a better wingman than I thought.

Chutes and Lad-Her's

A few emails have popped up in my inbox asking me, "Are you really as okay as you sound in your response?"; referring to when my ex girlfriend dropped the news on me that she started seeing someone seriously.

To be honest, I'm actually strangely calm about it. This will be the second relationship she has been in since our break up (that's a total of 3 relationships for Lynn, if you're keeping count) and her revealing it to me this time is astronomically better than the first time around!

That being said, am I going to invite her new guy out to join me for a couple of suds, go in for a bro hug, and bond over "Have you tried this one on her?" stories? Probably not. But I meant everything I said to her in my email back to her and I do wish her well.

Lynn and I have talked a couple of times since she informed me about her new relationship. She'll subtly try and slide him into the conversation ("He came over for dinner the other night" or "... and since I'm kind of seeing someone now..."), but I refuse to take the bait. I think that she wants to tell me about him, like any friend would want to when they are still in that honeymoon stage of new relationships.

I'm sure she wants me to ask questions and have me be interested, as any good friend should. But, I just can't bring myself to indulge her and urge her to tell me more about him. I'm still very much an "ignorance is bliss" kinda guy. I'd rather delay for as long as I can the fact that some day, I'll have to eventually learn his name, what he looks like, and all other details until that come with knowing someone.

I mean for this to be a segue to something I've found myself struggling with, these past couple of weeks. I've found myself comparing where I'm at in the romance department with everyone around me. Probably not healthy and I know that I gain nothing from this, but I've discovered that it's force that I can't stop!

For example... Leo, who makes a conscious effort to keep his toe out of the dating pool, gets set up by a friend to a cocktail party with a very attractive girl. A cute blind date (although if you mention the D-word within earshot of Leo, he'll fight it tooth and nail) who he ends up having uninhibited, drunken sex within the very first night of meeting her!

God, I miss drunk sex.

Jack happens to mentions in conversation, that at a party, he made out with a girl in her car. I'm barely able to focus on any of the other details about the party as I am completely baffled how he can be so damn casual about this! To him (and the rest of the world, it seems), it's like a fucking to-do list one would quickly scribble on a notepad on a lazy Sunday afternoon:

1. Pick up milk, eggs, and jar of sweet pickles
   
2. Drop off a package to Aunt Silvia at the post office
   
3. Meet girl at party, follow her to car and make out
   
4. Walk the neighbor's border collie

People are still making out in cars??

God, I miss making out in cars.

And out of complete boredom (and maybe a pinch of masochism), I've clicked through Facebook profiles of my old high school acquaintances and said through gritted teeth, "This fucking guy better not have a cute girlfriend" and when this indeed turns out to be the case, I quickly close out the window in bitter frustration.

I just reread that. I'm disgusted with myself.

I know I'm not being fair to myself by trying to compare where I'm at on the game board of romance to those around me. But, fuck! I keep landing on the damn chutes and everyone else is climbing ladders.

But what we know to be good for us and actually acting on it, often times we find that it isn't a union that comes easy. I'm finding myself more and more obsessed with the "when is it my turn?!" mentality.

"I've paid my dues!" is all I can whine about though. I should be happy that my best friend is breaking his dry spell and sleeping with hot girls on Date One. And good for my buddy Jack for bringing it back to the roots and coppin' a feel in a motor vehicle.

I really am okay with where Lynn is at now. As okay with it as I can be as an ex boyfriend of six years.

I think that when I am steadily seeing someone (or at the very least, having sex consistently!) I will be even more "okay". Maybe even able to have full conversations about it like real friends do.

I just can't do it feeling like I'm such a loser for being so far behind, awkwardly adjusting and readjusting my position in the starting block while she is near the finish line about to enjoy having a giant victory tub of Gatorade poured on her.

A Tale of Two Dudes: Pt. 2

Welcome to Part 2 of the dating debate between my friends Leo and Jack.

I'm gonna go grab a hot dog and a giant foam finger while these guys wrap this beast up with their closing arguments...

On the side lines,
So@24

* * *

Leo

I feel like it doesn't take much to get an decent idea of someone's personality. In a remarkably short period of time, you get the feel for their humor, intelligence, manner, etc. From that one encounter you can extrapolate where they lie on your own personal rubric. This is the founding principle of speed-dating: 1 minute per person, high-turnover, maximized results. Also the basis for Malcolm Gladwell's "Blink".

If we're talking about some cute girl I have never spoken to, exchanged a glance with, or otherwise interacted, then yes, there's no way to know if she's the lady of my proverbial dreams. However, asking someone with whom we've never interacted on a date never happens.

You're introduced, you engage in conversation, even strike up a tentative friendship. It can be hours or weeks before a date is proposed. Now, what if you got the impression that hey, while this girl is fun, cool, etc.,there was something just not... there. Call it what you will--spark, chemistry, whatever. For me, if it's not there, I forgo the date. That may be presumptuous, but I haven't proven myself wrong.

Basically, I know what I want. Or more accurately: when I find what I want, I know it. It hits me like a ton of bricks. Until then, dates are superfluous. Simply put--it's spending time, money, and energy finding out something I already knew. And I should add, wasting the girl's time, energy, and money as well.

Regarding converting a girl who's a friend to an NSA* partner - It's true that NSA sex via drunken drunkery is dying off at this age. Yes, one must change with the times, and yes, I'd rather be having drunkery sex with a girlfriend. However, I would rather not have sex than involve myself in a dating situation where I know I'm not into a girl, and yet in order to bone, I'm going through the motions of dating. That'd be disingenuous, and it can lead to sticky situations, especially when it becomes necessary to extricate yourself from it.

And that's the Leo Way--there's a cute girl I'm attracted to but not totally sold on, we become friends, there's some sexual tension, and before it's acted on, I make it clear beforehand it is what it is--physical fun. Often a girl just wants to get hers, and we have a mutual agreement. If they want more than just physical, then the brakes go on (delicately), thereby avoiding a very sticky situation down the road and remaining decent friends.

This is often not the case with a dating situation--it ends, the friendship ends. I'd rather preserve the friendship and lose the sex, instead of lose the sex and the friendship along with it.

Jack

It occurs to me that it's going to be impossible to prove absolute "right" vs. wrong in what is essentially I suppose a matter of opinion.

So I'll reiterate that you are of course entitled to your point of view, but I will say also, that I think this is a good recipe for sitting out a lot of what might be very pleasurable experiences in your life on a principle that seems to assume dating is necessarily this all-serious means to the end of finding "the one."

Dating, I think, life, if we're getting deep about it, isn't about the end result: you're gonna get married just like you're someday gonna die, but rather the experience you have on the way there is what matters. I'd also point out that this mindset you're trying to sell me as selectivity is one seemingly based upon really jaded assumptions about something (dating) that is ultimately supposed to be fun. It isn't obvious to me how when given the alternative choice, one would choose to see such a subjective (and again, potentially enjoyable) thing as negative.

Now, that said, I think you've gotta do what you feel is right and at the end of the day there's a fundamental flaw in me trying to tell you how you "should" feel about dating. And really I don't think you all the way believe what you're defending anyway, nor are you (or I for that matter) here with a willingness to have your opinion changed, so it's a bit of a moot point.

I think like me, you enjoy the challenge of trying to justify your point of view and you're intelligent enough that you could probably just as ably surround whichever other side of the debate you were assigned. So there's my big cop-out ending. BUT I'd be willing to bet that if you took the next three potential dates in front of you, you'd be a happier man for the trouble.

Leo

Valid points and yes, this is undeniably a matter of preference and opinion. I really don't think you'd be happy working it my way, and I wouldn't be necessarily happy working it yours. I will say this--I don't think dating is unpleasant. There were dates in college with girls other than the one I ended up with. I have dated, albeit not in a long time, and it is (you're right) a pleasant experience save for a few bad eggs. Dating is fun, sometimes a lot of fun--that I agree with.

However, pleasure is a linear scale, and the average date I'd stick around a respectable 7.6. Truth be told, I'd rather be kicking it with my fellas discussing the finer points of True Lies over beers. I've always been male-centric, I've always enjoyed the company of my nearest and dearest, and until that abates (perhaps by the arrival of a girl who wows me), it's going to take precedence of dating every time. I'm a guys guy, balls to bone. I simply enjoy you fools more.

Again, remember I'd love to date a girl who impressed me. That's exciting. Alas they don't come 'round that often (perhaps a reflection of me and my proclivities, not of the female populace).

So yes--I agree. Life isn't about the end result. Truer words have not been spoken. I'm in no rush--I'm not looking for The One.... I haven't even figured out if I want a girlfriend right now. And yes, the experience you have "on the way" is what matters, absolutely. For me though, I'd rather spend it with my closest friends than at a restaurant with someone I'm lukewarm about.

Fin.

* No Strings Attached, 'member?

A Funny Happened on the Way to Check My Email

To: So@24
From: Lynn

Time: 9:42pm
Date: December 17, 2008

Heeeeeey.

All right Nervous Nancy...

So just because Facebook might have awkwardly 'informed' you (and I don't want you finding stuff out about my life that way), I thought you should know that I am seeing someone. Not that you want to hear about that kind of stuff, and not that you like to know, but I figured I should show you the courtesy of telling you instead of you finding out via Facebook.

Anyways he's not my boyfriend yet, and it's still new, but all I did was make a change to my profile and it informed all of Facebook world and everyone is freaking out (i.e.: "ohohohlalala" and "go Lynn!" comments). I assumed you were doing so in private. Hahaha.

Mmmk so that is that. Dunno how much you want to know, etc... but he knows about you, knows we are close friends, etc and thinks you sound like a cool guy.

Hope we can be cool with all of this... Sorry if I am making it more awkward than it really is.

Come home in one piece beardy and stop obsessing with my roommate :)

- Meeeeeeeee
[Lynn]


To: Lynn
From: So@24

Time: 10:35pm
Date: December 17, 2008

I was waiting for this message to come.

I can't tell you how many gchats, emails and phone calls I got asking me,

"Dude, what's going on with Lynn? Facebook says Lynn is 'no longer listed as single'. What's going on??"

And all I could respond with was shrugging my shoulders and saying, "Well, maybe she's in a relationship?"

I don't need to know the details or anything. I'm glad you've found someone and I hope that it blossoms into something great. He just better appreciate everything about you!

You know my only rule for you: No settling!

We're cool as we always have been, no awkwardness... I promise.

Hope things are well (and it sounds like they are) and I'll see you next week!

As for your roommate, you don't need to worry. She's short, cute, funny, and can quote some of the great movies that most girls don't appreciate. Unfortunately, she's your roommate and probably isn't interested in atheists.

Best,
me
[So@24]

A Tale of Two Dudes: Pt. 1

Let me start off first by saying that I know I've done a title already playing off Charles Dickens' masterpiece. But I couldn't think of anything else. My b.

From time to time, I usually post direct quotes or lines of dialogue between myself and two of my good friends Leo and Jack. I do it, because they both have much more experience with woman than I do. Besides, they are both very well written, well spoken and have a lot of good things to say.

Both of my buddies do very well with members of the opposite sex. Similar builds, similar features... hell, they even usually will agree in the attractiveness of other girls.

However, they differ greatly in how they go about dating. Leo is extremely passive (even prides himself on this fact) while Jack is much more proactive (almost to the point where he'll almost willing to try anything to the point of self-delusion). I find myself unable to contribute in their debates, so I sit back with a giant Slurpee and nod a lot; usually finding valid points in both their arguments.

I thought I'd let you be the judge. Leo and Jack had a friendly debate the other night and I thought I would share it.

You might view these posts as a cop out. However, I find that they show a unique insight into conversation that goes on between your average, everyday single males.

You won't hear much from me. Because, well, what the hell do I know about "dating" and "women"?

Enjoy,
So@24

* * *

Jack

Who hates dating though?

Leo

-Raises hand-

Jack

Dates are largely pleasurable experiences, they aren't all bank-braking, duck feasts where you have to have sex with an undesirable afterward.

Leo

I think this is where you and I differ.

Unless the date is with someone I'm totally sold on, it is, for all intents and purposes, a fantastic way to waste time and money. Time, money, and to a lesser degree effort are commodities I value highly-- I'd rather spend them on friends than on lukewarm dates.

If I'm not playing for keeps, I'd rather scrimmage with buddies.

Jack

But short of knowing and being friends with your potential date forever and ever (which is just as much a waste of time) how do you know if you're excited about someone if you don't go out and engage them in a cage match [date]?

Leo

Simple-- cage matches are unnecessary. For me, a cursory meeting with a girl gives me all the appropriate knowledge to make an accurate compatibility judgment call. I have met a few-- and I mean 2, maybe 3-- girls in the last 4 years that I was genuinely impressed by to the point of date-consideration. Beyond that, I can tell immediately that no matter how hard I peddle, it ain't ever gonna get off the ground.

Friendships, on the other hand, require comparatively little work. There are no strings attached. They work when they need to, and can lay fallow as well.

Jack

I just feel like there's no greater rush than going headfirst into some kind of unknown territory and just seeing what happens. Best case scenario you get surprised, worst case scenario I feel like you're getting valuables reps so that you've got your shit together when the big games come.

I mean, would it be the worst thing in the world to acknowledge that you are a single person interested in spending time with another single person toward either:

1. Some kind of deeper relationship
2. Some wonderfully carnal, yet meaningless sex?

Leo

And therein lies the catch-- for you, it's an unknown territory. For me... well, I wouldn't say it's known-- I don't know what the lay of the land completely looks like, but I know there sure as shit ain't oil there. Sure, there may be some cool fishing holes and some nice natural vistas, but that does not a superpower make.

Invariably, my supposition is realized-- they've got some great qualities, but ultimately aren't for me. Basically a date with someone I'm not totally sold on would never lead to 1. a deeper relationship, although of course it may lead to 2. However, I've managed over the years to hone NSA* sex to an art that make Sun Tzu blush. So accomplishing 2 through dating is really a moot point.

Jack

But how are you supposed to get "totally sold" on somebody you don't already know? You show up for dates in order to hear a pitch. E.g. "This is what I've got to offer, please tell me what you have to offer."

Also, what girl worth the time is going to get "totally sold" on you from a distance if you don't attempt to interface with her one on one?

I would argue that NSA sex via drunken drunkery is an outmoded and quickly closing window for men like us in the post college era. Converting friends to "partners" is:

1. abusing a non-renewable resource and...
2. not nearly as exciting because if they were so great in the first place, why be friends with them instead of "partners"?

Curtain.
Part 2 on Friday.

* No Strings Attached

Taking a Second Look

I loathe going to the post office, but a pink slip I received in my mailbox brought me to one on a sunny Saturday afternoon.

The slip notified me that the post office had a package for me, but it was too large to fit into my mailbox. I would have to pick it up in person.

The government worker behind the counter looked miserable to be working on the weekend. No surprise there.

Post Office Lady: Here's your package. Looks like you have a friend in Ireland.
So@24: ... Ireland, you say?

I tossed the beat up box in the passenger seat and made my way home. At red lights, I'd raise an eyebrow and sneak a glance at the Irish package.

I placed the package on my living room table and took a seat on the couch. The poor box had a rough trip over the Atlantic, but luckily the box INSIDE that box was unharmed. It was decorated in panels of a Spider Man comic (wow, she remembered).

Caitlin had placed a random assortment of candies and knick-knacks inside. A box of Irish tea, two bags of Irish sweets "clove rocks" and "sour apple balls" that proudly advertised "Handmade in Ireland", a giant rubber centipede who went by the name of Cyril, and a few Aero Bars just to name a few.

A wave of emotions came over me as I investigated each of the box's contents one by one. It has been quite sometime since I really thought about Caitlin for a prolonged period of time. Ever since I discovered that she thought I had "the wrong idea" about how she felt about me, I would turn pink with humiliation and was quick to change subjects whenever anyone asked me her whereabouts.

Or I said she died in a devastating explosion when her car crashed into a gas station.



I would have to explore the rest of the box at a later time, I needed to stop by the bookstore to visit Jack.

Stepping into Skylight, I made my way to the childrens' books. Jack wore a scarf. I made a mental note to make fun of him later, there were more important things on the docket to discuss.

Jack: Well hello.
So@24: I got a package from Irish Caitlin.
Jack: No shit. How do you feel about that?
So@24: I'm not sure yet. It brought up a lot of old shit... it's weird. I still feel stupid and that I was duped somehow. How did I read that wrong, you know? It's fucking scary when you can't trust your own instincts.
Jack: From what you've told me, it doesn't sound like you misread anything. You were doing all the right things. She might have just freaked out. It happens all the time without explanation. Look at me.

I put what Jack said in the back of mind until I returned home much later that evening. I grabbed the box from the table and made my way to my bedroom. I crawled into bed and continued my investigation.

At the very bottom of the box was a relatively thick stack of journal-size pages bound together by tiny clothing pins. Back in the early days of Caitlin, she had taken a trip to Madrid for a few weeks. She had hand written mini-notes to me almost every day of her trip. Her handwriting was like a font of its own and she doodled all over the pages. She discussed her day, her thoughts and went off on random tangents (or what she calls "waffling").

I sat in my bed and read all 44 handwritten pages and for a moment, fell for her all over again. I found myself actually chuckling out loud and smirking like an idiot at her completely random string of thoughts and sketches. She even made a mini collage of all of our inside jokes.

Exhibit A

Exhibit B

I closed the Spidey-decorated box and put it aside when I finished reading. I thought about what Jack told me in the bookstore.

Maybe it was time to look at my brief time with Caitlin in a different light. I learned an extremely valuable lesson from her. For a very long period of time (and I still get this way on occasion), I thought that no one else would be able to stir up the kind of giddy emotion that can only come from a member of the opposite sex. I didn't think anyone would make me laugh like my ex-girlfriend Lynn. That a cute girl would actually pay me any attention. Although nothing ever materialized, Caitlin brought me out of that dark moment... if only very briefly.

Someone ELSE besides my ex-girlfriend could do those things. There was hope.

She burned me, there's no doubt about that. But maybe it's time for me to stop being bitter about never knowing "what happened" and get over my obsession of always having to have the answer. Time to stop beating myself up over not reading the signals right and focus on the positive aspects.

Who the fuck knows what girls are thinking anyway? Every other guy in the history of time has complained about complexities of the female brain, why did I think I was so special to sidestep it?

So@24's Book Review: You Lost Him at Hello

I received an email a few weeks ago from a woman asking if I would be willing to review a book on my blog. I would normally politely decline, but this was a book about dating. The blogger thought it would be an interesting twist to get a male perspective on the book.

My interest was immediately piqued and because this request actually fit with the theme of my blog, I accepted her offer. The book was soon in the mail.

I knew I had quite a task ahead of me. I've had my fill of self-help books. I can't recall how many evenings consisted of me trying to distract Lynn by nibbling on her shoulder only to be shoved away, full palm to the face, while she poured intensely over a self-help book (she's getting her masters in psych, what do you expect?). I'm not a fan of these books.

Here's the quick down low of Jess McCann's "You Lost Him at Hello". It's an advice book for girls on dating, but set to the tune of how business folk close deals.

The first thing I noticed was that Jess McCann is attractive and she has been on television. In the first few pages, McCann goes on quite awhile about how she doesn't have any trouble getting dates (which is fine, I suppose... you're trying to establish credibility). My issue is that these dating books about how ANYone can get a man would hold a lot more water if the author was a complete cave troll. Right?? Since when did attractive girls ever have problems getting dates? And who doesn't want to be seen with a reality show celeb?

McCann goes onto list her "successful" dates; she's dated celebrities, pro athletes and one guy on Fortune's 40 Richest Men Under 40. I have a beef with this. I don't really see dating like this as an indicator of "success". Money? Fame? That doesn't preclude the guy from being dull, disrespectful, self-centered, etc. These kinds of men may be successful, but that doesn't mean they're the paragon of dating material. In fact, the trend may be opposite.

What about just dating guys who made you laugh? Who you genuinely connected with? Maybe it's the same problem I have with Sex & and the City, in that Sarah Jessica Parker ends up madly in love with the insanely rich dude who is kind of a dick, but in one episode is a total bitch to a previous boyfriend who surprises her by fixing her laptop as an act of kindness. At the end she never actually apologizes. Women salivating like Pavlovian dogs over wealth, fame, or both.

I didn't make friends with that one. Moving on.

McCann finds her niche though, which sets her book apart from other dating guides. She found a way to basically say the same thing that every dating book repeats, but sheds it in a business-minded light. She uses business phrases to highlight her points (e.g. closing the deal, nonverbal communication, selling the product, etc.). And it works for what she's trying to do. It's a different way to look at things.

However, McCann doesn't really touch on anything new. The advice she deals are things that should be commonsense to girls (God, I hope so). If these girls aren't realizing on their own that they need to put their best foot forward on a date or that they shouldn't incessantly call guy over and over and over and over again if they haven't returned a phone call... I think that we have deeper issues to deal with.

On the other hand, there are some absolutely fucking fantastic moments in her book that I believe every girl should read. McCann dedicates an entire section about, what she refers to as, "Prospecting". Women needing shed the skins from the era of Anne of Green Gables and need to take action. Basically, girls need to start initiating.

She writes exactly what I've tried to explain to girls all the time, "Just think of how hard guys have it".

Thank you, Jess McCann. Fucking thank you. I'd like to send you a giant fruit basket on behalf of my gender.

Unfortunately, she balances this great part out by also advising her readers to play hard-to-get or as she puts it, "holding back the bullet".

"A good salesperson knows when to use her bullets. If you throw them out too soon, you can jeopardize the deal."

This means if you want to kiss the guy on the first date, don't do it. Fight that instinct at every cost, even if you really like him.

I can't speak for all guys everywhere. I can only speak for myself. But if I like a girl, I'm going to want to kiss her and I hate the chase. Some guys love it (see: Leo), but I fucking loathe it. If a girl flirts with another guy or turns a cheek when I go in for the kiss or any other form of rejection... I check out. My mindset is simple, "If she really liked me, she wouldn't be pushing me away." I have to strongly disagree with you on this one, McCann. Like I've said before, "do what you want". It makes things much easier.

One nugget of goodness is that McCann holds her readers accountable. Something that "He's Just Not That Into You" does the exact opposite of. I really appreciate McCann's proactive and "walk it off, rub some mud in it" mentality. If you're complaining, do something about it.

But I think that there's a happy medium between placing the blame squarely on females (You Lost Him at Hello) and blaming it all on males (He's Just Not That Into You). Has anyone ever thought... if it doesn't work out, it just doesn't work out? It wasn't meant to be? Sometimes it's NO ONE's fault?

I guess my view wouldn't sell books.

McCann's book is effective in that it delivers what it advertises (huh. a business strategy). She wrote a dating book using business models.

I do get a little uncomfortable the idea that people have to SELL themselves to get a date. To try and strategize means to convince the guy to take a second look at you. It just seems too cold and calculated. What child wants to hear the story of how their parents met with, "Well kids, when your mom first approached me... I thought she was mediocre and kind of annoying, but she totally convinced me by sticking to her business strategy."

It just doesn't feel right to break down romance like this.

"But don't take MY word for it! Ba da da!" - LaVar Burton, Reading Rainbow














I'm a man of science; I like sciencey things! My advice is, if you really are interested in learning about the opposite sex, pick up books by accredited psychologists.

On girls: "Reviving Ophelia" by Dr. Mary Pipher
On boys: "Raising Cain" by Dr. Michael Thompson and Dr. Dan Kindlon

Nostalgia Goes the Way of Old Yeller

I'm an extremely nostalgic person.

I'm a pack rat for all things that will tie me to some memory of the past. And it used to irritate the hell out of my old roommate Leo. When he'd help me load milk crates of my possessions during a move, he'd pick every single thing apart.

Leo: Okay, why in God's name do you have this?
So@24: That's a squirt gun my first crush in 4th grade used to spray me

Leo: I can't believe you still have this old picture of you and I. Did we really think it was acceptable to wear socks with our Samba sandals?
So@24: It's memories, man.

Leo: Oh fuck! What the hell is this??
So@24: It's a piece of a gingerbread house Lynn and I made once.
Leo: Dude. Throw this away.
So@24: No. Memories.


I'm the guy who stays in constant contact with his elementary school friends. I hate the idea of people who were once close just forgetting each other because of time. It's always been a quirk of mine that's very distinctive to me.

* * *

When I was at Chardy's party, I was anxiously awaiting another incoming drunk text from Dizzy. My cellphone beeped at me, declaring that the "Inbox was Full". I felt it was a good of time as any to clear out the bad boy.

I came toward the end of my list, I found a text message from a number I didn't recognize. A 503 area code. Well, that could have been anyone from my hometown. It was from the beginning of the year, a really nice text which is probably why I had such a difficult time deleting it:

hey you. it was great seeing you, i'm only sad that you live so far. miss you.

"Huh," my drunk ass thought to myself. "Who the hell is this?" I couldn't for the life of me figure out who it could be. So naturally, I texted the number:

Who the hell is this?

I never got a response back. But my goldfish memory didn't think twice about it for the remainder of the night. I was too busy making an ass out of myself (via text) to Dizzy anyway.

* * *

The mystery would not be solved until the next morning. I awoke to the sun piercing through my blinds disturbing my dull hangover and my cellphone vibrating on my chest

1 text message from the mystery number:

beth.

Goddammit, So@24. The answer was so clear in hindsight; I just haven't thought about Beth in "for. ev. er." (said like Michael "Squints" Palledorus). I had deleted her from my contacts after our last encounter and never looked back. But her number was saved due to an old forgotten text message I saved this whole time.

I took a moment to just think.

My friend once told me of this "Bucket Theory". I'll butcher it I'm sure, but basically it states that everyone is essentially a bucket filled with liquid. It takes a little bit of our liquid to be friends with people in our lives. We give our liquid, our friends take our liquid; it's a balance.

Unfortunately, there are those people we let enter our circle who take more liquid than give of their own and it never balances out. This is when you need to let these people go.

This is especially hard for me, keeping in mind my personality and how much I like to value memories and the past.

I took it a step further. This is something that I need to get used to; something that becomes normal in the dating world. You can't always stay friends with everyone who meant something to you at some point. Sometimes it fades for reasons out of your control and you're doing a disservice to yourself by hoping things will turn around.

It's interesting to go back and think about my time with Beth. We had some great times; she was extremely important at a point in my life... there was time when I thought that she would be my next relationship. But when you grow up, your friends need to be more than just the kid down the street who also an unnatural obsession with Army Ants. It has to be something more. Beth took and never gave.

People have learned how to do this before during the crucial dating years. It's nothing new to people my age, it's what you just do. You can date someone and share some pretty fucking intimate moments, say some pretty fucking intimate things, but something goes wrong and you might never speak to that person again. I guess this is something I'm just getting used to now. I can't always hold on for holding on's sake.

It took me awhile to really think about what I wanted to say back. I didn't want her to think I wanted to reconnect or that I was extending the olive branch. But I also didn't want to come off as a total dick. I ultimately decided on this:

Sorry, I was clearing out my inbox and didn't recognize the number.
Hope things are well.

I hit send and deleted that old text message. I doubt I'll hear from her again.

I let her go.

I don't normally post twice in a single day, but...

Oh.

Mo.

My.

God.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Scrimmage

Chardsy's birthday party was on Saturday. There are very few things in my life in LA that are constant and I can depend on. One thing that always delivers at Chardsy's birthday celebrations: Getting rip roaring plastered with good people.

But Chardsy and I have been friends for awhile, so I've come accostomed to predicting who will be at her gatherings. In the strictest sense of the single guy mentality, there wasn't going to be any "fresh prospects".

The party arrived at 9 and we closed down the bar. This was to be expected.

About a half an hour before closing time, I had lost Beardsy and found myself in the middle of the bar by myself. I glanced over at a table and a girl sitting by herself smoking a cigarette was beckoning to me.

I looked both directions making absolutely sure she was addressing me. I guess I should have known that since I was alone. I made my way to the table and took a seat across from her.

The girl across from me wasn't particularly attractive (at least, not my type), but she was kind enough to have me join her and strike up a conversation. It's a little embarassing to admit now, but at the time my initial reaction to this situation was, "Oh this will be a perfect opportunity to practice talking to a completely random female stranger one-on-one without the pressure of having to impress. Like a scrimmage."

She was clearly three sheets to the wind; I picked up on it instantly when I noticed her eyes weren't blinking at the same time. We did the usual, go-to, stranger dance. Discussed how we both knew Chardsy, what we did for a living, where we lived in, etc. I sat back in my chair and watched her take long drags from her cigarette. She did most of the talking (as most drunk girls seem to do) and I nodded when appropriate.

The conversation lasted about 20 mins before she mentioned that her live-in boyfriend was also a friend of Chardsy's and at the bar.

Now, I think this is something I've become hyper aware of since being single. When I was dating Lynn, I would never once think twice about something like this. But I suddenly got really uncomfortable; a minor panic.

Was this guy watching me have this drawn out conversation with his girlfriend?

Is he the jealous, insecure type? Is he an angry drunk? Oh God, what if he's an angry drunk?

I'm not even remotely attracted to her! I can't get in trouble for this, right??

I know that girls with boyfriends are free to talk to other guys, make friends and it's not a big deal. I feel that way, I just don't know if that's something that EVERYone is comfortable with.

I found myself instantly adjusting my body language. I turned my legs so they were facing out from under the table. I sat back in my seat with an arm thrown over the back. I made a point to casually browse the room instead of keepign eye contact. I figured that these subtle changes should make some difference to show my general disinterest to the general public (more important her boyfriend, if he was watching me).

I wanted to scan the room to make sure I wasn't stepping on any toes. Beardsy suddenly appeared behind the girl and gave me the double thumbs up. Fuck! He thinks I'm interested in her! If HE does, then what must other people think??

I gave Beardsy the quick, "no no no!" headshake hoping that no one saw him give me the "good work bro"-thumbs. I don't even remember the rest of the conversation at that point (I don't think she did either) as I was much too preoccupied of giving off the wrong impression.

There was no way to exit that conversation in a easy way. I made up some reason to leave and excused myself. I felt bad leaving her alone with her ciggs, but I felt much too awkward.

Where does this hypersensitivity come from? Is it something that you only become aware of when you're single? Is it a justified concern or are we all becoming too paranoid?

So@24 & Leo's Big European Adventure

I've made the executive decision to join my former roommate and childhood chum Leo on the first leg of his trip around the world in April 2009.

Fuck it. I'm young, I never take days off and the opportunity to travel with your best friend doesn't come around very often.

Besides. It should be interesting. I could use the blog material.

Ol' Leo and I will sit down with a map over Christmas break and decide exactly where I can go based on how far the almighty US dollar can take me.

We've already agreed that we are heading east and Ireland will be our first stop.

Perhaps Denmark??

Stay tuned.

Signs You Need to Get Laid. Like. Now.

a friend: I always wanted a library like the one in Beauty & the Beast
So@24: Belle was always the hottest Disney princess.
a friend: Okay, but which princess had the best personality?
So@24: Come on, Belle wins that one again. No contest.
a friend: Just checking.
So@24: She reads all the time. She's independent. She's disgusted with Gaston while every other girl in the village is in love with him.
So@24: Alas. That's when I knew it was a fantasy.
a friend: Gastons are disgusting, pulease.
So@24: Is it weird that I thought the french feather duster was sexy?
a friend: You would.
So@24: She turned out to be a fox when she turned back into human form, so I get half credit.
a friend: ...
So@24: God I'm lonely.

Please Hammer, Don't Settle.

I've had this post rattling around in my brain for awhile now. I wasn't sure of how to go about writing it and I didn't want readers to think I was pandering to my audience. However, keep in mind when reading, it's really a selfish act on my part. It's more for me than anyone else.

I think the catalyst for this post comes from a few recent experiences. In a few days my trial period for my failed online dating profile expires, so I thought I'd dedicate one last evening to eBrowsing.

It just depressed the hell out of me. Not a single one out of this round was the least bit funny or witty. It was the same bland shit, but the worst part is... these girls thought they were being original. Apparently the only piece of reading material readily available in the city of Los Angeles is US Weekly. Really? You love sushi? Oh and you "work really hard, but also know how to party"? Music is important to you too, huh?

I think I actually took off my glasses and rubbed my bored eyes at one point before I closed the online dating window for the last time. I don't mean to be harsh. I also enjoy going out for uncooked fish. I don't care (that much) that you indulge in shitty celebrity gossip magazines, I can accept that... I have my guilty pleasures as well. I too am a guy who takes his career very seriously, but also likes to abuse my liver on weekends. But for fuck's sake, where's the funny? Where's the wit? Where's the effort?

The second catalyst came from an email from an author of one of the funniest blogs I've come across, Kim from whatclaudiawore. It's primarily a fashion blog; if I'm forced to categorize it. But if you take a moment to read, it's fucking hilarious. I don't give two shits about fashion, but her writing alone is worthy of an instant "bookmark". Trust me.

Kim wrote to me asking for my thoughts on a dating situation she found herself in. I won't go into details, but I found myself shocked that a girl with her sense of humor had any trouble at all with the dating scene. I don't know if I helped her out at all with my opinion on her situation, but I did stress to her at the end of my response, that if anything... the other guy should be stressing about being able to keep up with her quick wit. Not the other way around.

And I didn't just blow through that email. I actually found myself erasing entire paragraphs and starting over, because I felt I wasn't being funny enough in my response.

This is my plea to all the genuinely funny girls* out there. To the girls that have actually caused me to laugh out loud. Please. Pleasepleasepleaseplease. Don't settle for guys that don't appreciate your humor. They may be good looking, they may have that devil-may-care visage, they may be "nice enough", but if they "don't get you" than turn and run. Make them show up and play to your level.

You're too rare of a resource to be wasted on mediocre dudes. Let the unfunny girls be with the unfunny guys. And don't feel sorry for them, there are plenty of both to go around; they won't be lonely for long. That's the way it should be; we have classes for a reason people!

I've seen it happen too many times. A girl ends up with a guy who has no idea how hilarious she is naturally. Sometimes, even the girl has no clue that she is funny. And each time I see this tragic scenario I do a Captain Jean Luc Picard face palm:

Yeah. One of these.

I want Violet to be able to strategize with her next boyfriend about how they are going to survive the zombie apocalypse. I even want Beth to whisper in the ear of a boy her secret fantasy of having relations on Snick's Big Orange Couch and have the guy know exactly what she's talking about. I don't want Lynn to try and explain to deaf ears why purchasing Hostess' Snowballs purely for the sake of smushing them in your barehands is fun.

Girls. You few-and-far-between, hilarious girls. Don't settle for just being eye candy. I'm not saying that your boys have to funny, I'm just saying that they have to legitmately think YOU are funny.

I think I feel so passionately about this subject, because it's a fear that I have too. The same paranoia I have for you, I have for myself. I worry that Future So@24 is going to go into panic mode and just pick someone just because I feel fortunate enough to find someone who shows interest in me and is "kinda cute". I don't want that. I want a funny girl.

Hey. Let's both not settle.

Deal?

While there are moments of disbelief, I don't despair. There are those who despair when single -- they feel compelled to find the one, move in, get married. I see my tenure in singlehood as exercise in the refinement of taste. When I choose, I know it'll be a fuck-all great choice. So yeah. I'm going to take my sweet ass time.

- Leo, via gchat

* Dizz, Saratoga Jean, D... you're just some of the few I'm looking at.
** The title of this entry was a play off MC Hammer's hit album "Please Hammer Don't Hurt 'Em"

What's in a Cobbler?

This one goes out to all the guys who have remained friends with their ex girlfriend and then get invited to spend Thanksgiving with her only to discover that you need to bring a dish or else you look like a total chancy.

...

Just me?

Lynn had invited me to spend Thanksgiving with her roommate and her roommate's friend when she heard that I planned on being alone that day.

So@24: Should I bring something?
Lynn: You're going to make something?
So@24: What? You don't think I can make something? Oh, I can make something, sister.
Lynn: Well, if you'd like to make something, you're more than welcome to.

That was it. Now I had to make something. My ex had thrown down a gauntlet (teasing, of course), but now I had to rise to the challenge.

I felt an unexplainable urge to show up and play ball. I'm at a loss for words on how to describe this weird obligation to prove to this figure of the past that I am capable of at least constructing something of worth. Maybe it only makes sense to those guys who there who have been in this similar situation. This dish would be a representation of who I am! A symbol that I am accomplished!

Now what the fuck was I going to make?

I immediately called up my cousin Mimi and told her, "I need to make something to bring to Lynn's Thanksgiving feast. It needs to be delicious. It needs to be something that will not bring the fire brigade of North Hollywood to a burnt out shell of a condo."

Mimi suggested I make a simple cobbler.

I don't even know what a cobbler really is. What's the difference between that and a pie? Fuck it, I don't really need the details I just need to make it.

My cousin emailed me a list and I was off to the grocery store to embark on my quest to prove my valor.

Mimi's list was pretty easy, but with the added pressure of having to make this cobbler edible, I began to second guess myself on every item. I must have made at least 4 separate phone calls to her while wandering the aisles aimlessly.

So@24: What the hell are "pineapple tidbits"? I mean, I see pineapple "halves", pineapple "medley". Did you actually mean to say "tidbits" or are you just trying to be cutesy?
Cousin Mimi: Yes, I meant to write "tidbits". It's a real thing. There should be a can listed as "tidbits".

So@24: You said a can of pie filling. What size?
Cousin Mimi: -sigh- Not the size of a "normal" can. Think short and fat, like a Progresso soup can.
So@24: Oh, that's much easier. Why didn't you just say it that way?

So@24: Shit. I know you said to get cake mix, but I see that they actually have premade pie crusts here! I should just get that instead, right?
Cousin Mimi: You aren't making a pie, idiot. You're making a cobbler. The cake mix makes the crust.
So@24: How does powder just "magically" turn into a crust? I don't need milk or eggs? I'm pretty sure you need milk and eggs.
Cousin Mimi: Goddammit! Stop calling me and follow the recipe! Trust me!

I went home with my ingredients and prepped everything so that I could make it first thing the next morning.

On Thanksgiving day, Lynn met me outside of her apartment to let me in. She took a glance at my pathetic pan of cobbler and gave an "Awwwww..." like you do when you see a Youtube video of a puppy trying to take its first steps, but stumbles adorably.

I scratched the back of my head and tried to explain my finished masterpiece.

So@24: It has some weird powder on the corners, probably the cake mix, but I think it turned out okay?
Lynn: I wasn't going to say anything, but since you pointed it out... -coy smile-
So@24: Alright, alright just grab this icecream and go inside will you?

Turns out, Lynn's roommate's friend is a fucking culinary student. He prepared the entire meal and even a dessert. Lynn just "happened" to not mention that to me so that I would be forced to bring something. She thought it was "funny" to see me go through all that stress and wanted to see what I would bring.

Goddammit.

The result: It turned out to be decent. I made something edible and proved my worth. Mission accomplished for the single guy.

I guess the cobbler really did turn out to be a manifestation of myself; Not much to look like, but if you give it a taste you might be surprised that you can choke it down.

...

Alright that was lame even for me.

So@24's Easy Cobbler for Those Who Need to Put on
a Decent Showing for Your Ex-Girlfriend's Dinner

Ingredients

• 2 short, fat cans of pie filling; I used cherry, but I'm sure you can use whatever.
• 1 stick of butter
• One box of yellow or white cake mix; I used "vanilla bean" because it sounded fucking fancy
• 9" X 13" pan
• 1 can of pineapple tidbits; yes, it should actually say "tidbits"

Directions

• Cover bottom of pan with tidbits. Spread evenly.
• Throw pie filling on top of that. Spread it.
  
• Sprinkle the entire box of cake mix on top of that.
• Slice butter into thin slices and place on top of cake mix making sure it covers as much area as possible. The places you don't place it will be powdery.
  
• Toss that bitch in the oven on 375 degrees for approx 35 mins.
• Serve with ice cream

Note: I guess having powder on the corners where you missed the butter spots isn't that bad
Note 2: When you check on it in the oven and the cobbler starts waving and bubbling, I guess that's totally normal. Don't panic, like I did.