Bam

It started on a muggy night in May out on a back bar patio. I was posing in an admittedly duck-like manner for a picture with one of my best friends when I saw a James Dean look-alike in a beanie walk by. 

Now, I have said it before, but I will say it again: BEWARE boys in beanies, especially boys in beanies in bars. They will mess you up EVERY goddamn time... I promise you.

I, however, did not heed my own warning. Instead of avoiding said beanie wearer, I made flirty eye contact with him a few times and walked the long away around the bar just so he could get a fantastic look at me in all my Saturday night glory. Pure class. When he slipped outside to smoke (gag but it helped with the whole James Dean vibe), I borrowed a pen from my favorite bartender and scribbled down my name & number on the back of a random dude's business card.

I wish I could say that I was effortlessly cool when I first talked to him, but the truth of the matter is, I was way too nervous so I just marched up to his side and blurted out, "Do you have a girlfriend?" 

He looked up, surprised, and I'm sure it seemed like a strange question to him, but y'all know my propensity to find married/taken crazies so it seemed like something to get out of the way upfront. 

But with a lazy smile and a slow shake of his head, he answered, "No."

Again, I wish I could tell you I was cooler about the whole thing, but alas, this was me after a few Budlights so in the glow of the neon & with Carly Rae Jepsen's 'Call Me Maybe' blaring from inside, I just handed him my number with a loud, "You're sexual. Here's my number."

And then I bailed as fast as my flip-flops could carry me. 

Despite my clumsy introduction, we started texted and ended up, laughing, on said back bar patio over a couple (more) beers and the rest of the romance unfolded in similar fashion.

Bam (which is what I will be calling him for the remainder of this post) was more artsy and creative than anyone I'd ever dated and I found something endlessly romantic in all the epic potential I thought we had tripped into. Sure, he was a little bit flaky, but I chalked that up as a small pitfall while continuing to hum along to lame Katy Perry songs and scribbling poetry on napkins. Gross, I know. 

It was a Sunday afternoon when I first saw my phone ringing. It was my favorite ginger Dead Head, one of Bam's best friends who spent a considerable amount of time with us (and who spent a considerable amount of time in the same tie-dye Grateful Dead shirt) so I answered with a friendly hello. He told me that Bam's phone had died, but that they were all heading down to the local divebar they loved and that they wanted me to come too.

Since I was planning on hanging out with my friend Samarama anyways, we decided to meet up there so she could meet the object of my (apparently addled) affections. 

We walked into the small dingy bar to be met with a smell that I can only describe as someone's breath who smoked seven thousand cigarettes consecutively & then died while eating a cheeseburger. 

Trying not to be daunted, I let my eyes adjust and saw him over by the pool table with a few of his friends. He was laughing and looking flawless until he saw me at which point his face went simultaneously pale & serious.

He made his way over to us, kissing my cheek hurriedly, "Um... hey... what's up? What are you... um, what are you doing here?"

I explained, briefly, that Dead Head Fred Weasley had invited us. Despite the fact that I hadn't just randomly stalked him to his current location, he was still acting weird. Not knowing what to do about his random pouty mood or the shady shenanigans unfolding on the bar patio, Samarama picked some reggae songs on the jukebox, I ordered us two very large tropical drinks that turned out to be an extremely questionable color & we tried to make the best of a bad situation at our own table.

Bam & Dead Head Weasley bopped around the bar, settling down next to us every once in awhile, to entertain us with their drunk shenanigans. Bam didn't seem very tipsy, but his friend was trashed so he slumped himself into the chair next to Samarama while Bam drew lazy circles on my back and asked me how my day was. 

Happy that he was starting to finally act normal, I was about to answer when an extremely tall skinny black man in the brightest pink polo I'd ever seen walked over & Bam introduced him to me as Sincere. & while I shall be referring to him as Rando McFroHawk for the rest of this post, I want everyone to understand that his ACTUAL name that he allowed people to call him was: Sincere. 

No joke, when I shook his hand, he smiled sleepily & purred, "The name's Sincere, baby... sincerely Sincere."

I. Cannot. Make. This. Shit. Up.

We had a few more rounds before I decided I was done with whatever circus was currently unfolding & with Bam still acting sporadically distant, I paid our tab & started to say our goodbyes. Noticing that we were close to leaving, Bam was instantly sweet again, "Do you want to hang out a little bit later? I have some guy stuff to do with my boys, but then I can call you & we can hang out. Just us."

The 'just us' was an especially smart move, considering I'd been hoping to spend time just the two of us since going through some family drama that had me wanting to bundle underneath blankets for the rest of ever. 

I was talking to Samarama in the parking lot because we'd driven separately when Dead Head Weasley, Bam and Rando McFroHawk came walking around from the back door. Knowing that his apartment was a good walking distance, I asked if they wanted a ride back to his place, trying to be nice.

Dead Head Weasley and Rando McFroHawk both reacted like little kids running downstairs to open Christmas presents where Bam looked like I'd asked him to walk the plank on a pirate ship.

Not even wanting to deal with that drama, I just got in the car quietly and we were driving in silence for a few minutes when Rando McFroHawk piped up from the back seat, "Hey, can we stop up here somewhere so I can get an Arizona Ice Tea, boo-boo? My mouth is real dry... real dry, like the desert, boo." 

"Sure," I shrugged, pulling over shortly after into a gas station parking lot. 

At this point, Dead Head Weasley was feeling all the alcohol he'd been unceremoniously dumping into his body and while we were parked, he started yelling slurred obscenities out the window at some guy getting into a pick-up truck. With a toddler. He honestly looked like this in my backseat:

I turned around to tell him to kindly shut up & stop harassing innocent civilians when Rando McFroHawk got back into the car and we started to pull away. At which point, Dead Head Weasley started to lose his damn mind, screaming and punching the back of my seat. It took one, "Turn this car around, BITCH!" and another punch on the back of my headrest for me to slam on my brakes, almost sending Bam into the dashboard. 

"Don't you EVER talk to her like that!" Bam shouted, jumping out of the passenger seat and sprinting around the car to pull Dead Head out in what I'm assuming was a grand attempt to defend my honor. Knowing they were both drunk and would likely get a public intox charge, I turned to where Rando McFroHawk was sipping on his drink and watching them out of the window.

"What should we do?" I asked, trying to decide if it was worth stepping between two boys pumped up on double whiskeys.

"Just drive, let's go chill somewhere. Crazy ass white boys, man. Crazy. ASS. WHITE. Boys. They think I'm ghetto, look at that, what the fuck is they doing?" He simpered (I swear to gawd, he SIMPERED that) and motioned for me to continue to drive.

"I don't even know you," I countered, starting to move out of the car, when Bam and Dead Head, who had apparently settled their differences, got back into the car and I got a muttered apology from the backseat and a kiss on the cheek from the passenger side.

Keep in mind, all this time, I really had to PEE. So as annoyed as I was with the entire situation and as much as I wanted to minion-punch all three of them:

I asked if I could come inside to go the bathroom really quickly before leaving them to whatever the hell 'boys night' entailed.

Bam DEFLATED & then forcefully stated, "You might as well just fucking know!"

With that, he exited the car.

Da. FUCK?

I followed the Three Stooges up to the apartment, not even trying to figure out what that explosion had meant.

I was setting down my purse to head to the bathroom when I turned to see Dead Head Weasley & Rando McFroHawk starting to pull a few little baggies and some needles out of their pockets. They laid some of the stuff out on the table & then all three heads swiveled to watch my reaction.

To be fair, I don't think my facial expression showed more than a slight eyebrow raise before I dipped into the bathroom and locked the door but INTERNALLY, this is what I experienced in those five seconds while I processed the evidence before me:

After mouthing 'WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON' silently to myself in the mirror a few times, I reached into my pocket for my phone and quickly dialed my Ride or Die's number to get a little advice on how to peacefully, and not obviously, escape an apparent drug den.

After we determined that it was most likely meth or heroin chilling out in the open for everyone and Jesus to see, we formulated a clear exit strategy, which basically just involved me snatching my purse, throwing a few 'have a good rest of your nights...or lives' over my shoulder while bolting down the staircase.  

With my game face on, I exited the bathroom with a huge fakey smile and announced, "Alright, boys, I'm going to head out" to go weep into the biggest glass of wine I can pour, "You guys have fun..." with all the drugs & needles & shit, "You can call me whenever..." And by that, I mean, never EVER call me.

Despite my ninja skills (aka making it down three flights of stairs in what felt like sixteen seconds), Bam caught up to me and we spent an intense four hours talking in his apartment parking lot about how he'd gotten into drugs, what the drugs were (heroin... AGAIN) and lots about his past and the ways he wanted to change.

I will spare you the rest of the morbid roller coaster of drama that followed but the moral of this story (despite other lessons that can be found here) is :

BEWARE BOYS IN BEANIES IN BARS. Because in my personal experience, they do a CRAP load of heroin. And while most of them may be pretty hot initially, nobody looks that hot in a mugshot. 

Despite what it might seem from this blog post, however, Bam is not a terrible person. He has (or had) a terrible PROBLEM and while that made him a less than ideal candidate for me to date, I do want the best for him so:

Dear Bam,
Despite the fact that you tend to be more flaky than the Before picture on a Head & Shoulders commercial, I do want you to know that I still care about you. I hope you're sober. I hope you're happy. And please PLEASE burn all your damn beanies. 


xoxox Lolly

The Deej (I have a motherfucking boyfriend, y'all)

So, I have a boyfriend.

& does that feel REALLY weird to type?

But let’s be real, it’s ME so there’s more to the story. I now present: 

The Story of How My Boyfriend Dumped Me Before He Was Even My Boyfriend

Yup.... 

Look into the face of the man who let me go before he even had me ;) 

We met through a mutual friend and it was lust at first hang-out. 

Actually, it was lust at first Snapchat. My work wife, as I so lovingly call her, sent me a Snap of her & the Deej out at a bar in July. I sent her one back and complimented his sweet lumberjack beard. Two friend-requests and a significant comparing of family trees (because the mofo’s last name is my mother’s maiden name...again, I can’t make this shit up*) later, we exchanged numbers and started talking on the phone every night for hours, like we were both back in junior high. 

We'd been talking for a few weeks and everything had been going really well. He was smart, funny, cute and seemed generally normal, which as you all know, is NEW for me. We took turns driving to see each other, texted all day erryday and I was starting to think I was headed for an actual adult relationship. 

After a particularly awful day, I was walking out and saw a missed call from the Deej. Excited to talk to him and turn around the clusterfuck of a day I’d been having, I called and within ten seconds, he let out a deep sigh and said, “So, how do you think it’s been going with us?”

Um, I thought it was AMAZING because you texted me at lunch 'Miss youuuu babe' but apparently, a bitch was WRONG, I thought, but instead of voicing that sentiment, I just managed a nervous laugh and said, “Well, I thought it was going good, but apparently, that’s not how you’re feeling.”

And then he launched into a ten minute speech about why we weren’t romantically compatible while I started silently bawling in the parking lot. My favorite section was an especially impassioned moment when he exclaimed, “you know, I want to be with someone that I go to bed thinking about and I want them to be the first thing I think about when I wake up in the morning.”

I wanted to say, 'Dude, do you know what I think about when I first wake up in the morning? Whether or not, I have to pee. I think about PEEING, not your name. This isn't the effing Notebook. I am not Rachel McAdams and you, for sure, aren't Ryan Fucking Gosling so let's calm down on all this soulmate bullshit and explain why you were winky-facing me three hours before telling me you were over this'

But all I managed was a few sniffles before telling him I'd call him back when (or if) I processed what he'd said. After hanging up, I cried more, destroyed my eyeliner, exclaimed 'You've GOT to be fucking KIDDING me' so loudly at an intersection I terrified a biker and then arrived at home and reached for my phone once again to call in reinforcements.

When I called my Work Wife (who had introduced us), she confessed that he'd told her that he was about to kick me to the curb and, in typical bestie fashion, she was already at the grocery store purchasing wine to bring over to my apartment because she knows me and she knows that...

Two bottles and roughly forty seven "he can fuck ALL the way off"s complete with windshield wiper arm motioning later, I drunkenly stumbled to the fridge in search of more wine and saw the jug of chocolate milk I had bought Deej for breakfast. I was trying to be cute and girlfriend-like and when he had spent the night and I'd had to run into work for something really quick, I'd stopped and gotten doughnuts and chocolate milk (his favorite) to surprise him. 

Drunk Me, of course, recognized the jug of chocolate milk as the enemy and swiftly snatched it up, cursing its existence. Looking determinedly at my Work Wife, I stomped outside to hill on the side of my apartment and proceeded to dump it out while cussing and screaming at various volumes, "Fuck YOU and your SMALL TOWN FUCKING CHOCOLATE MILK. I don't know WHY I gave a SHIT about YOU...YOU CAN FUCK...ALL... THE... WAY... OFFFFFF!!!"

Work Wife diligently filmed this, while laughing, from my porch.

I finished the tirade by crushing the empty container with my tiny little fairy foot and punting it down the hill.

Now, that stellar display of maturity aside, I bounced back relatively quickly from being tossed aside. Sure, I called him drunkenly to tell him to fuck ALLLL the way off and demanded an explanation for why he was so wishy-washy. And sure, I deleted him off of most social media avenues so I didn't have to deal with his fuckery popping up in my Timeline. And SURE, I went to buy a revenge outfit knowing that I'd see him at my Work Wife's birthday bash later that week, but hey... I didn't start the war... I just planned on winning it.

& approximately six days later under the glow of strobe lights at the club, the Deej came back to tell me that he'd made a big mistake. Call me a romantic, but there's something adorable about a boy looking at you longingly from across the dance floor while you shake what your Momma gave you with everyone BUT him. 

Once he finally coxed me over to talk to him (with a free drink, obviously), he started to explain that he hadn't exactly been truthful about why he wanted to end things. Apparently, I was SO awesome and we were so awesome TOGETHER that it had intimidated him enough that he'd decided running away was easier than actually trying. The following day, we had a long in-depth conversation about all the way he was wrong and stupid for leaving and the ways that I was pretty and awesome for existing. Actual portrayal of me during this conversation:

 

After making him suffer and make it up to me for a month or so, we made it official (which almost broke Facebook) and I'm currently happy and...TAKEN.

That doesn't mean, I won't be writing more StrugLife posts, because let's be real, I still have a plethora of douchewaffle stories to share :) but I thought I should let you guys know that I'm attempting an adult relationship.

Fingers. Crossed. ;) love you, idiots.

*Again for clarification’s sake, we are NOT related. I have verified with an extensive amount of relatives. 

EHarmony Extras

To celebrate 15,000 views (holy cheese balls)... I thought I'd throw some of my EHarmony extras on here, because you can never have enough of me in my pjs with super messy hair and eyeliner smeared in perfect raccoon art. 

I'm currently having a bit of writer's block, which is frustrating. And it's not because I don't have any more material. Sadly (for me) and happily (for you), I have a plethora to dip into, but I'm trying to be responsible and only write about the situations that I can now find humor in.

Because y'all really don't want to read about me eating cold Chinese food straight from the carton, while bitching about how a certain douchelord proposed to his girlfriend within a week of telling me he was in love with. Or that one guy that sold our puppy for drug money. Or my current saga, why the hell this hot pseudo lumberjack bartender hasn't texted my sweet self.

Just know that I am trying and I'm SUPER happy about the 15,000 views. Thank you SO much for reading :) StrugLife's one year anniversary is coming up in July and I promise to do something amazing for you all. Until then, enjoy the extras.

xoxo
lolly

Captain Drunk Skunk

Everyone's been telling me that I need to try to go on actual grown-up dates that don't involve Netflix, texts after 10 PM and/or excessive amounts of alcohol so to try to appease the masses, I accepted a dinner invitation from an older, seemingly more mature, guy. He was cute and seemed to have his life together. He was ambitious in his career, owned his own house and seemed to actually function as a normal member of society so naturally, I was suspicious and my friends/family were enthused.

We decided to meet up at a brewery/restaurant downtown that I was slightly familiar with and I walked in only feeling slightly nervous that the date would implode. He smiled adorably and gave me a big hug, like it was excellent to see me, which of course, it should have been considering the ridiculous amount of time I had spent picking out my outfit and straightening my hair.

When the hostess sat us down, he pulled out my chair and although, I thought it was a little cheesy, I smiled and thanked him. 

So far so good, right?

Wrong.

Always assume that it's wrong.

I had barely opened my menu before he asked, "So are you more of a 'yeah I love to be single' girl or someone who's looking for the white picket fence and a bunch of babies? I'm not going to lie, girls get really attached to me really easily."

I was hoping he was being sarcastic. I was WAITING for him to grin at the end of that rant, but instead, he just tilted his head and said, "I know it sounds crazy, but it's true. I'm just the guy that every girl wants to marry, I guess."

Luckily, the server approached to ask us for our drink orders so I had time to process that overly-inflated egotistical little gem. 

He ordered a double Jack on the rocks, commenting about how he'd already had two before coming out to dinner. Trying to bring classy back to the date, I ordered a glass of red wine and hoped that it would make the next hour or so bearable.

"I'm not trying to get married anytime soon. It will happen when it's supposed to," I provided, "I haven't really met anyone that I could see myself marrying so it'll probably be different when I do."

"Cool. So what do you do for fun?" he tossed out, barely glancing at the server when he set our drinks down on the table. I smiled and said thanks to the waiter before mentioning that I was a writer, I liked to read and just grab a few beers and chill with my friends.

"I don't read," he laughed, "I hate that shit. Seriously, I don't read at all."

Can I just say that is one of my biggest pet peeves, because he obviously reads SOMETIMES. He's not 29 years old and illiterate. He just doesn't happen to enjoy reading, which is fine, but saying that you "don't read at all" is ridiculous. You read street signs and text messages and Facebook and you have to read emails for your job so...no...just stop. You ignorant fuck.

After a few more minutes of painfully simple conversation, we ordered our food and two shots. Both for him. Our server asked me if I wanted another glass of wine, because unfortunately, I'd downed my first one like I was dying of thirst in the desert.

Before I could even open my mouth to say yes, he provided for me, "She wants a Cosmo and... what the hell, let's get another shot."

"I don't want a Cosmo or a shot," I corrected to our server, who at this point looked like he felt bad enough for me that he wanted to take me out on a date himself just so I would remember that there are decent guys in the world, "But another glass of wine would be awesome. Thank you."

"That's fucking lame, take a shot with me," he implored, "If I'm going to go to the trouble of buying you dinner and taking you out somewhere nice, the least you could do is drink with me."

The server looked horrified and didn't say anything so Captain Drunk Skunk just repeated the order in an excessively loud and rude tone.

When I finally agreed to take one shot with my glass of wine (no Cosmo for me ever, k thanks), he proceeded to launch into a bunch of excessive information about his job, using technical terms on purpose and then taking dramatic pauses whenever I didn't respond to assure me, "It's okay, it's really complicated. Not many people understand what I do." 

When the server arrived with our food and, sadly, our drinks, he asked me politely if I needed anything else. Most of his interactions with our table at this point were aimed towards me because Captain Drunk Skunk was being a total asshole to him. When I opened my sweet little mouth to request a side of sour cream for my towering plate of nachos, Captain Drunk Skunk started to complain about his food OVER me. Food that he had not even tasted yet.

To be fair, our sever handled it like a champ and Jedi-mindtricked him into believing his food was perfect, although that may have had something to do with his extreme state of drunkenness at this point. He was 'stumble in to the kitchen at 3:00 am because you just got home and eat handfuls of cereal out the box' drunk.

I ate my nachos and gulped down some more wine, my fingers itching to text my friends and let them know that we had yet another epic fail on our hands. I even started to think of nicknames for this blog post while still at dinner because he was being THAT much of a douche. Every single topic that you're really not supposed to talk about on a first date... he approached with the grace and tact of a bulldozer mating with a rhino. Oy.

The server brought over the check and after making a show of grabbing it, Drunk Skunk shoved his debit card into the bill and slammed it down on the table dramatically.

"Just sign for me, okay? Then, we'll go back to my place," he winked, he ACTUALLY winked, like closed one of his eyes in what he thought was a seductive manner and then looked over to where our server was standing, "She's going to sign for me whenever you get around to bringing my fucking card back."

The server returned with the card and handed me the bill, looking like he REALLY wanted to say something so instead of making him debate whether or not to be professional, I provided, "What a fucking douche, right?"

"He's AWFUL," he laughed, "I was hoping he wasn't your boyfriend or anything."

"No, first and LAST date," I promised, grabbing the pen and making a half-hearted attempt at signing a legible signature.

"Did you drive with him?" he asked in a worried tone.

"No and I'm going to grab a cab back to my car so no worries. I'm so sorry that he was such a dick to you, too. But have a REALLY good night," I finished, underlining a 30.00 tip with a huge grin and pushing it to where he could see. 

We legit high-fived and I walked outside to find Drunk Skunk and give him back his card, thinking that my evil over-tipping was going to be the punchline of this particular story. He was slumped against the wall, smoking a cigarette and when I stopped in front of him with my hand offering up the debit card, he just took his free hand and tried to run it through my hair.

"Come on, let's go to my place," he slurred while I once again removed his hand from where he had awkwardly laid it against my neck, moving his fingers in what I'm assuming was supposed to be provocative manner. It actually just felt like some oversized toddler was clumsily attempting to tickle me while simultaneously trying to maintain his balance.

"I'm going to go home. I think you should probably head home, too," I supplied, looking down the street where a few police officers were having a pow-wow. Feeling slightly more protected (although Captain Drunk Skunk wouldn't have actually posed much of a threat in his state of shitshow), I repeated, "I'm going to go home. You should get a cab."

"Fuck THAT!" He screamed, "FUCK going home, we're going to get FUCKING drunk!"

The cops looked over at us and his unfocused eyes finally noticed that there were three police officers standing directly across the street from us now. Apparently, the two brain cells still unaffected by the inordinate amount of whiskey he drank bounced together, because he appeared to struggle to act sober.


"Shh," he hissed to me. For the record, I had been entirely silent since the moment he had deafened me with his latest burst of profanity so I just rolled my eyes and produced an unladylike snort. In response, he proceeded to grab my face with both of his hands and kiss me suddenly with so much force, I thought he had potentially broken my nose.

Escaping the slobbery face assault, I pushed him off of me, which shouldn't have caused him to fall on the ground and act like he'd been laid out by a sumo wrestler. It SHOULDN'T have. But it did. Past caring, I turned around to leave and two seconds later, Captain Drunk Skunk had latched onto my arm, pulling on it hard. I was turning around to not-so-politely tell him to get the hell off of me when one of the friendly police officer handled it for me.

"Hey, get your hands off of her. Is that how you treat a woman?" He questioned, physically removing him a little further down the sidewalk, while one of his partners approached me like I was a skittish kitten.

"Are you alright?" He questioned and while I was trying to explain that I was perfectly fine as long as they were going to make sure that he didn't drive, I heard the other two officers asking him questions, one of which was whether or not I was his girlfriend.

He replied, "No, she's not my girlfriend. Maybe my girlfriend for the night."

I literally almost face-palmed right in front of the cop but instead, I looked back to where he was standing in front of me, looking very sympathetic. He repeated his question that I must have missed the first time, "He's not your boyfriend, but you do know him?"

"Not very well. This was our first date," I admitted, "For some reason, he got really drunk at dinner. I was going to go home and I told him to take a cab. He's definitely not good to drive."

"Do you want to press any charges?" he asked me, "We saw him accost you."

When I declined, he gave me a well-meaning squeeze of the elbow and walked over to where his two buddies were now trying to have a conversation with Captain Drunk Skunk who had taken a seat on the curb and seemed to be attempting to both shake his head 'no' and nod 'yes' at the same time. Which basically meant he was moving his head in a circle.

"You're a lucky guy. That gracious young lady decided to not press charges against you for grabbing her and forcing yourself on her like that, but we're going to need you to get a cab and find your way home safely. Do you have money for a cab or do we need to call a ride for you?" My Officer Friendly started, although at the words 'press charges', Drunk Skunk started to loudly protest.

"That bitch said I grabbed her?" he screeched out finally, "I didn't put hands on her."

Officer Friendly scoffed, "We saw you. You owe her an apology for that and for using foul language towards her."

Officer Friendly's buddy, Deputy Means Well beckoned me over to stand next to them. Flanked by the law, they attempted to make him mutter out an apology in what I assume was the last great act of chivalry I'll ever see. Unfortunately, Drunk Skunk was not sober enough to realize what was happening and stood up to protest even more loudly that I was lying about him grabbing me. And when the officers began to physically sit him back down, he revolted like he'd been simultaneously set on fire and stung by thousands of bees and lurched towards me.

In front of three armed police officers.

Five minutes later, I was watching two police officers load my date into the back of their police car while the third police officer (I think it was Deputy Means Well) patted me on the back murmuring "Well, you know... there are plenty of fish in the sea. There are plenty *patpat* of fish *pat* in the sea."

And yes, he DID contact me the next morning after spending a not-so-comfortable night in county. He apologized, blamed blacking out and asked, "Do you think you could ever give me a second chance?"

:) xoxo lolly

EHarmony Dating Advice (that you should never follow)

Hello my lovely little quesadillas of love,

Just so you guys know, I'm currently working on another post about a recent first date I went on that ended with a friendly police officer patting me on the back and saying, "There are plenty of fish in the sea *pat-pat* there are plenty...of fish... in the sea" 

Hopefully, I'll be able to get that up in the next couple of days but until then, I got onto EHarmony's free dating advice website to see if I could find any gems to apply to my love life and instead ended up making a video where I laugh at their suggestions: 

Enjoy :)

Couples Gon Cray (pt1)

First off, I want to apologize to you little heathens for not writing in a couple of months. It is NEVER intentional for me to neglect your sweet little selves. But I do have to occasionally do other things with my life, like working at a job that actually pays me and going to visit my family in the dirty South... which brings me to the first bit of news for you all. I had another ridiculously random 'hey, we totally used to make out' encounter and it was on an effing airplane. You know, the enclosed kind that you can't escape and where everyone in the entire cabin can hear every awkward word uttered between the two of you? Yup, that kind.

I was minding my own damn business on a short connection flight when the flight attendants started to move up the row, taking drink orders and passing out snacks. I was, needless to say, stoked about honey roasted peanuts AND pretzels, plus I had drink coupons so I was trying to think of the most classy thing to order while flying (bitch got a Budlight... again, pure CLASS) when I heard the flight attendant ask what I'd like to drink and looked up to see: THE LOST LUMBERJACK.

The Lost Lumberjack was a very brief flame from my early college days. By brief, I mean, the spark of a match that never really catches fire because you realize that you didn't even really want to burn that candle because it probably smells like ass and daisies. An assy field full of daises.

He was the cute male RA in my dorm and I ran into him at a party in the woods right after a particularly heinous break up with a douchebag from college past. Call me a hopeless romantic but the stars were out, the pine trees were swaying in the breeze and there was a guy holding his girlfriend's hair back while she puked by the fire.... can you feeeeel the loooove tonight? And yes, that was a Lion King reference because I am a goddamn adult.

I said something snarky about his plaid shirt. He said something snarky about being up past my bedtime. We made out for 20 minutes and then did awkward avoidance dances in the hallway the rest of the semester when he started dating my RA. I actually think the last time I saw him was me saluting him sneaking out of her room. Gotta love college.

Needless to say, I did not expect to see him ever again. Certainly not five years later, in full flight attendant gear, while handing me a bag of pretzels and asking me if I'd like an extra napkin. We both did a REALLY strange smile, pump-fake wave/hug/ohmygodwhyisthisevenhappening.

I swear, this shit only happens to me. And of course it happens to me when I'm in mismatched sweats, shoving pretzels in my face with my hair in such a voluminous state of cray that the TSA lady actually had to FEEL it to make sure that I wasn't concealing a weapon within its depths.

 

Typical.

Anyways, the topic of THIS post is going to be about the different kinds of couples that I've encountered over the past 23 years of my life because I feel like some of them might just be universal. 

1. The couple that no one wants to be around (because they don't even want to be around each other)

It's easily one of my biggest pet peeves. It's the couple that absolutely cannot stand each other but for whatever sick reason, they stay together FOREVER anyways and suck all the sunshine and happiness around them. They're the black hole couple.

 They make subtle jabs at each other during regular conversations, talk shit behind each other's backs and always get in dramatic fights at group gatherings, which inevitably lead to the: should we break up or should we stay together? debate... and although, ten thousand people are screaming in unison 'YES BREAK THE HELL UP'.. they fall in love all over again just long enough to want to kill each other the next weekend.

You know these people.

I was sitting at a friend's barbeque, sipping on a glass of sangria when I heard the rumblings of the typical Rock Em Sock Em romance clusterfuck start beside me. Individually, these people were really cool. They were both funny, smart and outgoing people that I actually enjoyed being around... separately. But together? They were hell to hang out with.

They'd shown up to the party about an hour after everyone else and instead of leaving whatever drama they'd been dealing with at the door, they dragged its stinking rotten corpse into the middle of the gathering to ruin everyone's time.

"Now, who are you texting?"

Silence

"Excuse me, who the fuck are you texting?"

Silence

"Is he seriously ignoring me right now? HELLO, dickhead that I CALL my boyfriend, who the fuck just texted you?!?" 

I particularly hate this part, because they try to involve you in the shenanigans.

"Wow, can you believe that my boyfriend won't tell me who he's texting? Wouldn't you be upset if your BOYFRIEND was keeping shit from you?"

Luckily for me as I was taking another LARGE sip of my wine, he erupted with, "You're really going to talk like this to me in front of all of our friends? You're going to make a big fucking scene because I texted another girl? Really? Here, read my fucking phone then if you're going to keep bitching about it!"

He then slammed down his phone on the table. Three seconds later, she tossed an insult and the rest of her drink at him before running inside, sobbing.

This is when the inevitable splitting of the sexes happened.

The boys moved to one side of the table while Homeboy wiped off the side of his face and went into an impassioned tirade about her 'jealous and crazy bullshit' and the girls went inside to knock on the bathroom door for twenty minutes so they could fix her makeup and tell her that it's 'totally justifiable to be upset' when he's clearly disrespecting their relationship via text message.

Buzz. Kill.

All couples fight. That's not the issue. The issue is that these couples don't do anything BUT fight. 

Great rule to follow: if you can't stand being around your significant other for five minutes without wanting to punch them in the face, call them a name or catalogue all their faults in a public forum with all of your friends.... BREAK. THE. HELL. UP.


2. The couple that you don't want to be around because one is a creeper

I've only really had this experience ONCE... but let me tell you, once was certainly enough. One of my good friends was bringing her new man around to meet the crew and while the drinks were flowing and everyone was feeling friendly, New Guy was feeling a little bit too inspired. 

While I was in the kitchen to check on the status of my charging phone (because if you know me, that shit is always ten seconds away from complete death), he walked in to grab another drink from the fridge.

"So, where's your boyfriend?" he questioned.

"No boyfriend? But you're so beautiful. Prefer girls?" he quipped, "That's hot."

"No, I just kinda like being single," I provided.

"Yeah, I miss being single sometimes. I mean, relationship sex is good but sometimes you just miss that random sex, ya know?"

In my head: no, I don't know. I don't know LOTS of things, like why you would tell me something like that when you're in a relationship with one of my best friends. Who will swiftly be dumping your ass. As soon as I get out of this damn kitchen.

Leaning against the fridge, he smiled drunkenly, "Have you ever had a threesome?"

"No."

"Never even thought about it?" Wink.

Nope. But I just thought of three different ways to maim you with the contents of my purse.

Creeper Status. 

Not all cases are this extreme. There's the uncomfortable little comments they make, the flirty little vibes they send or the random touchy moments when their girlfriends aren't looking. Super disgusting and an awkward conversation to navigate with the friend that is dating said creeper & can't imagine their 'babe' touching your knee under the table or sending you a random text message after midnight. Luckily, if your friend is intelligent OR you're just really persistent:

...they'll eventually kick Creeper to the curb. Until then, just keep up the good fight. 

3. The couple that everyone wants to be around/be

This is my favorite kind of couple because you actually ENJOY their presence in your life. It's the couple that when the inevitable engagement ring picture pops up in your Facebook feed, you don't feel the need to take bets on how long it's going to last. Instead, you're like, 'Damn, I better be invited to that wedding'

I have lots of married couples that I adore (shout-out to my matrimonial inclined: casady&jeff, brandon&nicole, katrina&chad) and even more unmarried couples that I legit enjoy spending time with.

On my recent trip down to the dirty Southwest (where I have a former fling in every burrito shop), I saw one of my very best guy friends Joseph. Since I was sixteen, he's been around to make me laugh, listen to all my ridiculous love life adventures and dispense unwanted (but extremely necessary) tough love. See, you guys, I'm perfectly capable of having a solid friendship with a male that doesn't end in disaster:

When Joseph told me about his new girlfriend Sophie that he wanted me to meet, I was excited, because I could tell from the way he talked that he was crazy about her, but I was a little worried I would end up as a third wheel when we hung out. 

And I have never been more glad to be completely WRONG.

We drank, we talked,  we laughed, we ate ridiculous amounts of nachos...

They're the couple that you can have an amazing time with because they were amazing together, funny and cute, but they could also function apart. Joseph went to go pay his tab, Sophie and I joked around and talked like we'd known each other for years. Sophie ran to the bathroom, Joseph and I discussed the good old days full of house parties with chickens roaming the backyard. Sure, there were still sickeningly sweet moments when they gazed into each other's eyes but... if I'm being honest, they both have REALLY pretty eyes so who can blame them? It's so hard to look away:

The main commonality that I find with all of the couples that I like to be around is: they GENUINELY like each other. Now, that may seem simple, but think of all the couples you know that don't really like each other, might like someone else, are settling because they're bored... or just don't know what they want.

You see, I'm like a goddamn newborn baby with couples. If there's tension, turmoil, doubt or distrust in the damn air, I'm gonna be a colicky son of a gun. I'm a product of my surroundings, which is why I would like to take the time to thank the couples that routinely restore my faith in love/relationships:

COUPLE HALL OF FAME:

Carly and Jeff: the success-story couple who have proved to me that you can overcome a whole bunch of bullshit and still be crazy about each other. they also created my future flower-girl who is the best of both of them. you can't beat that.

Casady and Jeff: the chillest/sweetest couple I know. they always work together as a team & their wedding was the first one where I actually sobbed. I ugly-cried in the prettiest dress I've ever worn because I was genuinely happy for them.

Lindsay and Jeff: proof that long-distance can work and that you can fall in love with your best friend. the most independent yet totally cute couple i know.

Lauren and Jason: the most hilarious couple I know. they are the ones that can always make me laugh, it's like a stand-up comedy routine being around them & sometimes I file away their banter in my head to use for a screenplay someday (sorry I'm not sorry).

Claire and Brian: the couple that makes the most sense to me. they're just good people that deserve something good & the fact that they found it with each other is just plain awesome. also, I take full credit for setting them up so 10 points for me.

THERE ARE SO MANY MORE: like chad and katrina, nicole and brandon, rosemary and dylan (ADORE THEM)...

And finally:

Joseph and Sophie: the best time I've ever had out with a couple. you crazy kids are my favorite couple to party with & I'm annoyingly happy that you met each other... come to the Midwest right MEOW. 


That's all for now, dears. I have to go investigate the current level of shitshow snow that is piling up my car right now. Winter is seriously trying to test me but you know what, I got Diet Coke, I got pop-tarts, I have Netflix and an ice scraper:

SIDENOTE: apparently, the cool thing among my friends is to date someone named jeff. jesusssss.