Pictures

Scrolling through tinder, okcupid, skout, lets date, etc etc blah blah...is such a hilarious experience sometimes.

Oh, you're holding a red solo cup? You must be the life of the party.

Oh, you're wearing sunglasses indoors? You look so cool. No, really.

Oh, you're topless on a beach/boat/pool/lake and you also just happen to have washboard abs? Of course you don't look egotistical. That might actually work on some girls.

You're flipping yourself off while taking a selfie in your bathroom mirror? So badass! Also, judging by the floral shower curtain, you could always step out and ask your mother to take your picture for you, so you don't have to capture the toothpaste splatters on the mirror. By the way, Clorox wipes are godsends.

Oh, who's that beautiful hot girl with her arm around your waist? I'm sure she's your sister. Oh look, there's another one in the next picture. And you have 2 girls on both sides of you in your last picture. You must be such a boss. There's no way she's your ex-girlfriend you're trying to replace by being on these hook-up apps. No...

Um, unfortunately all of you pictures are group pictures, and I don't know who you are. So I'm just going to assume you're the ugly one.

Wow, you're surfing! Now your riding a dirt bike! You ran a marathon! Wow, you must be sooooo active. I'm sure you want a physically fit girl who can join you on your steep mountain climbs and bench press as much as you, and any girl who frowns at the idea of exercise must be a complete and utter fat slob to you.

Oh look at the deer you just killed- your hands are still fresh with its blood! Because there's nothing sexier to me than a boy who had to disembowel a deer, and lived with its skinned head hanging on his roof dripping down blood for a week.

Not one picture of your face. I see your dog, your bike/car, you facing away from the camera and your backyard. Once again, I'm gonna assume you're ugly.

All selfies. I'm sure you have lots of friends.




Sarcasm, bitch. Do you speak it?

I have come to realize that I, the girl who used to be the biggest romantic, has become bitter and cynical. That's what loving someone will do to ya, folks. Stay safe, don't date an asshole.

The Necromancer

My friend says, “He’s rock-n-roll and a baller.” Neither is particularly attractive, but friend’s strengths do not include verbal character descriptions. They do include persuasion.

I figure I’ll just pass on trying to glean more info from my friend and agree to him receiving my number.

Recall of how well set-ups work for me?

Well… this time I decided to try and cut my losses by behavior-modeling E. She's online dating. She checks out a profile, if he's a possibility meets for happy hour, and doesn't waste time chatting beforehand. That way she’s only wastes an hour.

He texts me. I give him a time next week to meet for happy hour. No Googling, character witnesses, and prior cross-examination.

The “just give him a chance” set-up proceeds to sporadically text me across the next few days fussing for me to meet “Mr. Right” sooner.

“No”

Next, he sends picture of his chopper and threatens to put me on the back. And, yes, there are flames on it.

A) I prefer street bikes, but do not share this potential ego blow. Instead I write B), “I would only get on if you were teaching me to ride it myself.”

He’s claiming to not be like these “other LA boys” when I walk into E’s place.

I cannot help but smirk at the absurdity of this banter. E asks who I’m texting and I describe my attempt following her example with this set-up.

E jumps out of her seat when she hears his last name, "You didn't tell me this story had a punch line!"

Try not Googling someone after that.

Try not cross-examining a date who’s had negative press.

Furthermore, E shot him for a magazine and provides me with the character description. Apparently, we have great potential.

Prior Cross-Examination: Fail

Googling: Fail

Character Witness: Fail

The Necromancer showed up to our date on a chopper, wearing sparkly skulls, and snakeskin.

He was raised in Hollywood.

He's brilliant supposedly.

He may also be the pushiest person I ever met. 

Is there a stamp on my forehead that says, "I will accept a social-emotionally stunted person if they are supported by a parent who made an exorbitant amount of money?" Not that I can really judge accepting parents' help...

The Necromancer says, “So we aren’t so bold without a phone to hide behind are we?”

You try not being self-conscious sitting next to some guy who looks like he did heroin backstage in the eighties. Again with the set-up dilemma… This time I’m in a black casting dress and manage to ask a few questions.

My “date” is more of a monologue audience.

And somehow I screw-up answering one of the few questions I receive regarding if I have plans Friday.

Do I want to go get another drink at the Belmont? –No

Do I want to have a real date of Friday because I don’t have plans? –I want time to think about it.

The Necromancer claims I don’t need time to think about it, I know.

In my haste to get away, I consent.

"Your friend must have a sense of humor," says CrazyK.

The Hilarity of the Situation

CrazyK: "How is this happening? You're over there having amazing sex with a sexologist and I can't even get anyone to text me back."

Cue the 10 minutes of church giggles from me as I realized just how cliche we really are. Blondie, the model who is only interested in amazing sex, and me, the pathetic little romantic who keeps striking out looking for prince charming.

By the way: I've moved. Which is why I've grown silent. That, and also probably because I've had non-stop dating drama. Stories will come, I promise. I have men jumping over each other for my number it seems like everyday, and the few that I choose to humor with my attention seem to lose interest the second they get it. I keep asking myself (and anyone in the 50 mile radius) what's wrong with me for this to keep happening. I'm not naive, I know by reasonable deduction that the common denominator is me, so ergo I must be the problem. No one I've asked understands my romance problems either. They all assure me Im great and am doing nothing wrong. I'm just really really unlucky I guess.

-CrazyK

Pathetic

You know that feeling when you haven't pleased yourself in so long you forget what an orgasm feels like?

No? Just me?

Alright then.

-CrazyK

The Misfits

"I don't feel that way about you, Gay."

"Well, don't get discouraged girl. You might."

Bitch, I said I didn't feel that way about you.

--

The first time I saw "The Misfits" I cried.

It was also completely relevant to what I was going through at the time. But a few years later now, I realize that its relevant for almost any girl.

There have been so many instances when I feel like Marilyn's character. When men keep appearing, "falling in love" with her, pawing for her attention when all she is trying to do is "feel something". She's not "asking for it" or even really wanting it at all - but she's used to it. She's so used to it she just lets it happen. She doesn't know how to stop it and in the end her naive, loving and innocent character sees the ugly truth about humanity.

It's not the best movie, but its makes me want to cry. The blatant truth behind the selfishness of men and the trapdoor that is love.

And, of course any movie is going to speak to different people different ways, but I think the forced romantic aspect of this movie is butchered by everyone. This is clearly not a love story.
--

I can't think of any friendships I have had with men, that didn't end with a "I want more" discussion. Or friendships that have been revealed to be fueled by ulterior motives. The guy friends who you find out have only been nice to you because they thought they could get in your pants are the mother-fucking worst.

I'm sorry - I really can't control someone else's emotions. And I also find it uncomfortable I should start every new friendship with a "I will never, ever, ever want to sleep with you" conversation. And lets face it - that is fucking ridiculous that anyone has to have that conversation!!!  Someone else's sexuality is not yours to control.

Also, those conversations are not fool-proof. You can tell someone every-single-fucking-day that you are not interested in them like that, and lo-and-behold 6 months later they'll be confessing their undying love for you. "Dude, I thought we talked about this." 

Someone who is only friends with you to get in your pants, is not a friend. Those are selfish people who only see you as an object. And do we want selfish people in our life? Hell naw.

Even swingers are more sane than the self-proclaimed "friend-zoned". They approach no-string sex with fucking sanity. 
"Hey, Laura and I were wondering if you would be up for a threesome?"
"No, I don't think thats such a great idea."
"Okay then. What toppings do you want on the pizza?"

If anyone reacted to that conversation with a "HOLY SHIT, you don't want to sleep with me? I can no longer be around you!" they got problems.

Let us remember: Women are not magical machines that when you put enough "nice" in, sex comes out. We are not yours to dictate, control or own. And if you can't comprehend that, then you can be on your way.

-CrazyK

And I can walk you right back...

Old friend messaged me on Facebook. Weird, since I don't remember when he removed me from his friends list. Also weird, is the nature of which we know each other. He's an old flame of Blondie's. They never slept together, though, she'll be quick to interject.

We talk randomly throughout the years. I can never tell if he's flirting or not, but I did send him photos of me in my underwear once, just to show him how much weight I had lost. So, hopefully the wires didn't get crossed there.

And you know what prompted this most recent re-connection? While I was in town for Blondie's b-day, he saw my profile on Tinder. (I really need to delete that shit. I never use it. And he's not the only person I know who saw my profile while I was in town.) What a great start.

Well, this gem happened during our talks. I told Blondie about it, and she insisted I post it here.

Me: I'm trying to get my boob job done before I move back out there.

Him: what's wrong with your boobs?

Me: they're ugly and painful. I've wanted a reduction since I was 14 and I'm just going to get it done finally.

Him: oh lol I thought the opposite kind of boob job

Me: oh no. Fuck that.

Him: haha I've never thought they were ugly

Me: I don't think you've seen them in all their glory though

Him: I haven't :(
I would love to though

Me: haha smooth

Him: thanks, you walked me right into it.

Me: and I can walk you right back. I got practice.

- CrazyK

The Big "Oh...no"

Never, ever, tell a guy you faked an orgasm.

It really doesn't end well no matter how you paint it.

I've only faked an orgasm a handful of times in my life. There are very few reasons I would even fake one - and believe it or not they're all good intentions.

1. You realize you're not going to cum that night, but you still want him to feel like a god.
2. You are tired, sore, and want to go to sleep. While also making him feel like a god.
3. You came close, but his knee slipped and he lost the rhythm mid thrust. So you just fake it because you're not sure if you did or not. To make him feel like a god.

The other options are to sigh, roll off, huff and say "it's not happening tonight." Which I've done. Plenty of times. And it's just a bummer, because even if I don't orgasm I still enjoy sex and seeing him enjoy himself. So, in essence, a fake orgasm is really a self-sacrifice for his. I only fake it with guys I like - if I don't like you, I'll let you know how frustrated I am. If I considered it a one night stand, I would waste no time to say what I needed and what I didn't get. But if I liked you, and cared more about your feelings than my satisfaction, I see no qualms with having to pretend a little 'O'.

Sweet, right? So how come guys get so pissy when you tell them you faked one teensy tiny little orgasm a few nights ago?

Because it is lying. They probably went and told all their friends about this awesome sex they had, how much you liked it, and daydreamed about how much of a king they were in the sack. So now they feel like a complete idiot. They should've noticed. How did they even believe it? Your legs squeezed up and everything.

Well, sweetie, I always wanted to be an actress when I grew up.

-CrazyK