Here we go again. So I'm researching my next big thing (the one coming up after Lights, Camera, Love...?), and sadly, spending way too much time browsing the personals. Yeah, the personals. In the interest of making my life easier, here are some quick tips on creating the perfect profile:
1- Don't assume you're hot. Okay, let's face it, if you were all that and a bag of chips, more than likely you wouldn't have the free time to be shopping online. Be honest. I mean, if your pic has a pornstache, you're not "the great American god".
2- Don't pose with your kid! Okay, I know all of you parents out there are kid happy and that's great. Really. But I don't want to see your head obscured by some cute little munchkin. I promise you my biological clock isn't ticking that loudly.
3- The word is WRITE, not wright, not right. "I don't know what to write here." Well, if you can't even write that correctly, just go away. Far away. Or at least get a proofreader!
4- Don't advertise that you live with your parents. Yes, we've all been there -- but let's not point that out first. That's something you drop on a girl on the second date... honest. If she cares, she'll ask before that, I promise.
5- Don't post your ugliest picture and then say you want "a tight girl with a hot face"... see #1.
6- Don't always be yourself. At least not completely. Try to remember that dating is like a good mystery. Give the reader a taste (ew! not that way), and make them want more. DON'T LIE, just don't admit you still need a nightlight BEFORE you show off your mad scrabble skills or ability to quote massive amounts of movie dialogue.
Lead with your strengths, people. And that's it... just be honest, have fun and for the love of God, wear a shirt in your profile pic!
Monday, October 01, 2007
No refunds, and sadly no exchanges.
So we all know this supposed to be a site about metaphorically dating the ex, right? Because really doing it? Not a smart idea. And we're smart women, right? Yeah, not always. Today we're going to talk about smart girls gone stupid or, as I like to think of it, going back to hell.
You all know the drill: Charm boy comes back with his hat in his hands (and he is the type to wear a hat, he's charming, get it?) and tells you he's changed. Now see, Charm Boy is smart, too. He's not gonna ask you for a second chance, he's going to weasel his way in.
He'll start by telling you he's dating fabulous women. This is a lie, if he were, he wouldn't be talking to you. No offense, but that's not the game. Then, he'll tell you he's been introspective, maybe even been to therapy. Honey, if he has, he hasn't learned a thing. And then, he becomes the perfect friend -- and the women dry up. He's looking for a family, a big love, whatever it is you've always wanted. And before you know it, you're inviting him over for dinner -- and he's staying for breakfast.
Oh, you'll tell your friends it's not a relationship. And they'll point out that it's as close as you're getting right now. And you'll blush and realize it is. And then he'll let it slip that he still loves you. And that, is the middle of hell. Months will pass, he'll be perfect, you'll be in love. But suddenly, it's gonna grab you in the ass, I promise.
There will be a new girl that catches his fancy and you'll end up back in the pop-tart aisle. So, how does a girl know for sure? Well, first of all, he won't tell you he's changed. The Changed Man will no longer try to charm you. He'll start by apologizing and realizing he's a screw-up. And there won't be a line of fantastic girls for him to tell you about.
Ladies: if he really wants you back, he'll just be trying for you. So, keep your eyes open and your heart shut, until you're really sure your Charm Boy has become a Changed Man.
As House says: Everybody lies.
You all know the drill: Charm boy comes back with his hat in his hands (and he is the type to wear a hat, he's charming, get it?) and tells you he's changed. Now see, Charm Boy is smart, too. He's not gonna ask you for a second chance, he's going to weasel his way in.
He'll start by telling you he's dating fabulous women. This is a lie, if he were, he wouldn't be talking to you. No offense, but that's not the game. Then, he'll tell you he's been introspective, maybe even been to therapy. Honey, if he has, he hasn't learned a thing. And then, he becomes the perfect friend -- and the women dry up. He's looking for a family, a big love, whatever it is you've always wanted. And before you know it, you're inviting him over for dinner -- and he's staying for breakfast.
Oh, you'll tell your friends it's not a relationship. And they'll point out that it's as close as you're getting right now. And you'll blush and realize it is. And then he'll let it slip that he still loves you. And that, is the middle of hell. Months will pass, he'll be perfect, you'll be in love. But suddenly, it's gonna grab you in the ass, I promise.
There will be a new girl that catches his fancy and you'll end up back in the pop-tart aisle. So, how does a girl know for sure? Well, first of all, he won't tell you he's changed. The Changed Man will no longer try to charm you. He'll start by apologizing and realizing he's a screw-up. And there won't be a line of fantastic girls for him to tell you about.
Ladies: if he really wants you back, he'll just be trying for you. So, keep your eyes open and your heart shut, until you're really sure your Charm Boy has become a Changed Man.
As House says: Everybody lies.
Sunday, July 30, 2006
But you're my best friend!
Those are quite possibly the most painful words in the English language.
What? You want to know why I'm so maudlin? Well, chicas I was talking to an old friend today and he was telling me all about the "girls" he's currently involved with -- the random makeouts, the one who's making him jump every time the phone rings -- and it took me back.
Back to that one moment, when I'm staring at the most beautiful boy in the world. The boy who's just told me he simply has to talk to me, making my heart do stupid little flippy things. And then he tells me that because he loves me, he wants my opinion. My heart stops flipping, stops beating as it waits. And then he says, "So, is it too soon to ask (insert name of evil one here) to marry me? Do you think I'm rushing it? I really want an honest opinion, here and you're my best friend."
Let me tell you, boys, this isn't the compliment you think it is. In fact it's one step up from saying, "well, you're not thin, but you're still cute". It's one of those statements that make us think of running pencils through your brain stems just to see if it actually kills you or if you've stopped using the organ long ago. It's the epitome of you're like my sister or I don't love you that way -- but said so much more innocuously that it's almost impossible to hate the speaker. So instead you hate yourself just a bit more.
What? You want to know why I'm so maudlin? Well, chicas I was talking to an old friend today and he was telling me all about the "girls" he's currently involved with -- the random makeouts, the one who's making him jump every time the phone rings -- and it took me back.
Back to that one moment, when I'm staring at the most beautiful boy in the world. The boy who's just told me he simply has to talk to me, making my heart do stupid little flippy things. And then he tells me that because he loves me, he wants my opinion. My heart stops flipping, stops beating as it waits. And then he says, "So, is it too soon to ask (insert name of evil one here) to marry me? Do you think I'm rushing it? I really want an honest opinion, here and you're my best friend."
Let me tell you, boys, this isn't the compliment you think it is. In fact it's one step up from saying, "well, you're not thin, but you're still cute". It's one of those statements that make us think of running pencils through your brain stems just to see if it actually kills you or if you've stopped using the organ long ago. It's the epitome of you're like my sister or I don't love you that way -- but said so much more innocuously that it's almost impossible to hate the speaker. So instead you hate yourself just a bit more.
Sunday, July 23, 2006
Could you be someone's home?
I could be someone's home if I fell down -Lisa Loeb, When all the stars were falling...
The line itself is simple, almost child-like with the reverence Loeb gives to it, but come on, could you be someone's home? Think on it. The idea of being someone's safe place -- the place where they can be themselves, drop the pretension and not fear scorn. Scary stuff when you scratch the surface.
Think on it: when you fall from grace, step down from your pedestal, all you have left is yourself: the essence of you. Is that really enough? Is the person beneath the clever facade really as interesting as you think she is? Can she sustain a relationship with someone, be strong enough to be their safe place, yet vulnerable enough to need a safe place? And if not, then how do we prepare her for such a task?
And more importantly, how do we gather the courage to fall?
The line itself is simple, almost child-like with the reverence Loeb gives to it, but come on, could you be someone's home? Think on it. The idea of being someone's safe place -- the place where they can be themselves, drop the pretension and not fear scorn. Scary stuff when you scratch the surface.
Think on it: when you fall from grace, step down from your pedestal, all you have left is yourself: the essence of you. Is that really enough? Is the person beneath the clever facade really as interesting as you think she is? Can she sustain a relationship with someone, be strong enough to be their safe place, yet vulnerable enough to need a safe place? And if not, then how do we prepare her for such a task?
And more importantly, how do we gather the courage to fall?
Sunday, January 22, 2006
Stupid, Stupid, Stupid
Today, I want to talk about something that matches my mood: the ex who goes astray. Now I say this matches my mood because I happen to be suffering from not one but two "-itis" type things. The joys of having tonsils, people.
That out of the way, I want to talk about the one who not so much got away, but went away. This particular boy was known as Chew-toy and wasn't so much a great date, but a great *friend* if you know what I mean. Chew-toy was the best accessory a girl could have: he cleaned up incredibly well, was a great lay, willing to try new things and had already seen me every way possible.
No, really. Chewy was there when I was an awkward preteen (we weren't speaking then, but knew of each other -- it was a small town), a chubby awkward teenager and as a sexually agressive young adult. He'd seen me in formal wear, in sleepover wear (he liked to crash slumber parties), in casual wear and in nothing at all. I've greeted him in slut boots, full make-up and a shirt cut down to there. I've also went over at 2 am wearing sweats, with Bride of Frankenstein hair. Together we raced upstairs, swam naked and had outrageous public arguments. We were starting to become the stuff legends were made of.
Then something went very wrong.
I decided it was time to move on. To find true love and let the sexual aspect of our involvement end. It worked well, at first. I lost a great lay, but gained a great friend. I became single again, we played at it, but never became lovers again. It seemed we were destined to have a Hollywood friendship.
Then he met someone. And that was the end. He was coerced into cutting off contact with his female friends, and dissappeared.
I hear rumors. They married, they have a daughter. It hurt at first, because, he'd been clear he didn't want kids with me. I didn't either, but pregnancy scares do happen.
It isn't the sex I mourned. It almost isn't even my friend I miss. But it makes me sad to think "he's done". The guy who had such big plans has dropped out of college, given up his post-grad dreams and taken a job. It's baffling. He's grown up, or so I've heard. It isn't just that I miss Chewy, it's that the guy I knew doesn't live here anymore. I'm still the same, but he isn't.
I don't which of us to feel more sad for.
That out of the way, I want to talk about the one who not so much got away, but went away. This particular boy was known as Chew-toy and wasn't so much a great date, but a great *friend* if you know what I mean. Chew-toy was the best accessory a girl could have: he cleaned up incredibly well, was a great lay, willing to try new things and had already seen me every way possible.
No, really. Chewy was there when I was an awkward preteen (we weren't speaking then, but knew of each other -- it was a small town), a chubby awkward teenager and as a sexually agressive young adult. He'd seen me in formal wear, in sleepover wear (he liked to crash slumber parties), in casual wear and in nothing at all. I've greeted him in slut boots, full make-up and a shirt cut down to there. I've also went over at 2 am wearing sweats, with Bride of Frankenstein hair. Together we raced upstairs, swam naked and had outrageous public arguments. We were starting to become the stuff legends were made of.
Then something went very wrong.
I decided it was time to move on. To find true love and let the sexual aspect of our involvement end. It worked well, at first. I lost a great lay, but gained a great friend. I became single again, we played at it, but never became lovers again. It seemed we were destined to have a Hollywood friendship.
Then he met someone. And that was the end. He was coerced into cutting off contact with his female friends, and dissappeared.
I hear rumors. They married, they have a daughter. It hurt at first, because, he'd been clear he didn't want kids with me. I didn't either, but pregnancy scares do happen.
It isn't the sex I mourned. It almost isn't even my friend I miss. But it makes me sad to think "he's done". The guy who had such big plans has dropped out of college, given up his post-grad dreams and taken a job. It's baffling. He's grown up, or so I've heard. It isn't just that I miss Chewy, it's that the guy I knew doesn't live here anymore. I'm still the same, but he isn't.
I don't which of us to feel more sad for.
Sunday, December 25, 2005
Getting Personal
So, late at night, when the moon is high... Nope, not that kind of personal, you perverts. I'm talking personal ads today! You know the sort, match.com, eharmony, yahoo! whatever. Who are the people using these sights and why are there so many successes?
True story, a friend of mine, no really I swear, signed up with one of them years ago, I think it was eharmony, but I digress. She signs up, spends like $50 she didn't have (have I mentioned this chica was freshly divorced with two little ones? Those people should never have extra money). Anyway, once again, I'll get on track. She does this, calls me all the time telling me that Mr.X emailed her or that Mr. Y wants to meet. Two weeks later, she meets this guy IRL, they hook up, get engaged... break up, but that's another story. My question is how did this chicklet entice all these men?
Match.com boasts 200,000 hook ups per year. That's a hell of a lot of fate. So, here's my take: it's not fate. It may not even be real. What you've got is two people both wanting something, this thing called love so bad, they'll pay to find it. Both people filling out checklists saying they want a short-term, long-term or married thing.
Imagine if you will meeting superbabe in a bar. Instead of "that dress will look great on my floor in the morning" he says "My name's Babe, I make 75,000 per year, want 3 kids, a dog, a cat, one wife and a beach house. I'm athletic/slender, never married,and keep fleas as pets. I don't smoke, drink or swear. I've had two relationships in the past year, both less than three months." By the way, the flea thing? Straight off the match.com profile (hey, you can pull it up without entering your name, don't judge me, this is research).
You've just skipped about 5 dates, without the sex (which we all know is the best part of a new thing).
Now, it sounds like I'm being harsh, but I'm not. It's a great idea, if you want formulaic love. If you're tired of the chase, of being hurt. Or if you don't meet many people or don't know how to talk to them. But what about those of us who are still a bit romantic at heart?
I know, me, the romantic cynic. I can't help it. I don't think I'll ever find love, but I like to hope. And, despite my love of cold hard logic, I don't want a computer to pick out my Wonderboy, I want to find him all by myself.
To those of still searching the bars, theatres, even the groceries: good luck, but stay away from my Wonderboy, whomever he is. To the rest of you, you logical, rational people: call me and I'll dance at your wedding.
True story, a friend of mine, no really I swear, signed up with one of them years ago, I think it was eharmony, but I digress. She signs up, spends like $50 she didn't have (have I mentioned this chica was freshly divorced with two little ones? Those people should never have extra money). Anyway, once again, I'll get on track. She does this, calls me all the time telling me that Mr.X emailed her or that Mr. Y wants to meet. Two weeks later, she meets this guy IRL, they hook up, get engaged... break up, but that's another story. My question is how did this chicklet entice all these men?
Match.com boasts 200,000 hook ups per year. That's a hell of a lot of fate. So, here's my take: it's not fate. It may not even be real. What you've got is two people both wanting something, this thing called love so bad, they'll pay to find it. Both people filling out checklists saying they want a short-term, long-term or married thing.
Imagine if you will meeting superbabe in a bar. Instead of "that dress will look great on my floor in the morning" he says "My name's Babe, I make 75,000 per year, want 3 kids, a dog, a cat, one wife and a beach house. I'm athletic/slender, never married,and keep fleas as pets. I don't smoke, drink or swear. I've had two relationships in the past year, both less than three months." By the way, the flea thing? Straight off the match.com profile (hey, you can pull it up without entering your name, don't judge me, this is research).
You've just skipped about 5 dates, without the sex (which we all know is the best part of a new thing).
Now, it sounds like I'm being harsh, but I'm not. It's a great idea, if you want formulaic love. If you're tired of the chase, of being hurt. Or if you don't meet many people or don't know how to talk to them. But what about those of us who are still a bit romantic at heart?
I know, me, the romantic cynic. I can't help it. I don't think I'll ever find love, but I like to hope. And, despite my love of cold hard logic, I don't want a computer to pick out my Wonderboy, I want to find him all by myself.
To those of still searching the bars, theatres, even the groceries: good luck, but stay away from my Wonderboy, whomever he is. To the rest of you, you logical, rational people: call me and I'll dance at your wedding.
Thursday, December 22, 2005
Welcome to the Ex Hex
Hi everybody,
I'm Veronica and this is The Ex Hex, a place to talk about your man trouble and figure out why you have it.
Are you still dating the same guy you were in high school? I mean, figuratively, because, honey if you're taking this literally, this isn't the place for you. You know the type -- whatever it is. Mine? Well, mine happens to be rude (but in the first throws of lust, I call it biting), he's arrogant, less intelligent than I either or he thinks he is and totally thinks he's better than I am (again, I occasionally echo this one). So how do we stop? How do we, as intelligent women, break the mold, step outside of our comfort zones and find true love?
I have no idea... but I'll let you know how the process goes.
I'm Veronica and this is The Ex Hex, a place to talk about your man trouble and figure out why you have it.
Are you still dating the same guy you were in high school? I mean, figuratively, because, honey if you're taking this literally, this isn't the place for you. You know the type -- whatever it is. Mine? Well, mine happens to be rude (but in the first throws of lust, I call it biting), he's arrogant, less intelligent than I either or he thinks he is and totally thinks he's better than I am (again, I occasionally echo this one). So how do we stop? How do we, as intelligent women, break the mold, step outside of our comfort zones and find true love?
I have no idea... but I'll let you know how the process goes.
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