500 Days of Wasting Your Time

So after seeing 500 Days of Summer again (fun fam outing with my mom, grandma, bro and his adorable gf), I remembered I never actually published my thoughts from my initial viewing a few weeks ago.

First of all, I loved the movie. Definitely worth seeing, if for no other reason than the fact that Joseph Gordon-Levitt is an adorable cupcake, who I’ve had a crush on since his Angels in the Outfield, Third Rock from the Sun, 10 Things I hate About You days.

Also one of the best lines of the movie is about how he won’t know if Summer is hooking up with “Lars from Norway, with the face of Brad Pitt and the abs of Jesus.” Let’s just say that sometimes art imitates life very very accurately – cough cough uncannily accurate in the case of the ForeignJO.

Anyway, there are also some good dating lessons worth taking note of, most importantly about one person thinking that someone is The One yet the other person not returning said feelings.

Unrequited love is a bitch. One of the worst things in the whole world, I’m pretty sure. Falling for someone so hard, being convinced that he is The One only for him to not feel the same way. Suckfest.

If you find yourself in this situation, the smartest thing you can do is to force yourself out of it. You cannot make someone love you back as much as you love them – trust me I’ve tried.

While you can’t instantaneously turn off feelings for someone, you can remove yourself from the situation. Yes you might want to be friends, but don’t go there, at least not right away. It will only make things worse, I promise. It’s like pulling off a Band-Aid, getting a shot, etc. – it sucks, it hurts, you live, you forget the pain, you go on with life.

Instead do your best to move on, surround yourself with things to keep you busy, and try and meet new people (specifically future love interests). Eventually you will realize it wasn’t meant to be, and you will find something better.

Easier said than done, I know, but the more you can remind yourself that it is, in fact, what you need to do, the better. It might be hard, but it beats kicking yourself for wasting months pursuing something you can look back on and realize wasn’t as perfect as the fairy tale in your head.

For a relationship to be the real thing, you both have to have the same level of obsession with one another. If one person is more committed, more interested, more devoted, it’s going to collapse. Like a Ponzi scheme.

Time Machine to Last Labor Day

This time a year ago the BFF and I were wrapping up our Hamptons share experience with The World’s Biggest Douchebag and Some People We Didn’t Really Know. As things were winding down it became quite apparent the BFF and I weren’t BFFs with everyone like Memorial Day had led us to believe. It had been fun, but we were ready for it to end.

One major factor that aided to this sentiment was that the World’s Biggest Douchebag had landed the hottest girl in the share (who I had thought was way out of his league, but oh yay she was willing to date down. IAAB - I am a bitch). There really is nothing better than getting to witness first-hand your former fling and a girl way hotter than you become an item. And, since getting to watch their love blossom before my eyes was such a special treat, I was excited to discover that they would continue sharing their affection with the world via Facebook alums dedicated to their romantic getaways (in painstaking photo documentation detail too magical to avoid when it’s on your newsfeed). From the looks of their pictures, they seem to be made for one another. Oh burn.

Anyway, lucky for me, I had moved on so I wasn’t particularly crushed. Unfortunately the person of interest was not the best choice. Or even a good choice. Or even an OK choice. In fact, some people would probably go so far as to say he was the True World’s Biggest Douchebag (WBDB).

He was pushy, manipulative, bratty. He toyed with my emotions. He could be cruel. And that’s just how I first knew him as friends.

One time he told me he HAD really liked me. So great to hear that in past tense.

Even after that fun exchange, I still liked him. The first time we ever hooked up (after months of flirtation), he pretended like he didn’t know it happened. For weeks he kept that up. Yeah we were drunk, but we weren’t that drunk. Asshole.

And I was stupid enough to let it happen again. Obviously drinking was involved that time too. Yeah he must have really liked me. Again, I like to learn things the hard way.

Had they’re been an election for the WBDB title, he would have won the popular vote. But thanks to that one showing at the Bob Schneider concert, Jack’s status had been solidified. That concert was the state of Florida.


This guy was the Al Gore of my Summer ’08.

I may still make poor choices, but thinking back to last year, I’m slightly better off than I was then - at least the douchebags I go after now are of a higher caliber. High five.

Fingers crossed Labor Day 2010 is even better.

The Time Has Come to Bid Adieu to My Summer Love

Ask anyone in the city and they’ll tell you to NOT get a boyfriend during the warm weather. No, it’s the time when you’re supposed to be out enjoying the world – aka looking cute in your skimpy summer clothes, meeting hot guys in the Hamptons, and ultimately shacking up with a few randoms. That was my summer last year. Luckily I’ve matured. Or something (like the fact I didn’t have a Hamptons share). Whatever.

So, instead I made the most of my summer in the city, rejected others’ advice, and embraced love.



But now summer is over - he’s leaving me. And I am devastated.

I thought I wanted a boyfriend, but all along I think maybe I’ve just been in need of a gay (French) best friend.

We met at work. Yes I know, normally work relationships are a BAD idea. And he’s a foreigner! But apparently doing the opposite of what you would do to find a hetero-relationship is the best game plan. Then you get someone to entertain you during the day plus, since he is Parisian and snobby, he has nice taste and is always telling me about great restaurants, shops, venues, etc.

His daily presence in the office has been like bright sunshine (if bright sunshine referred to me as “sumo”). He is snarky and chic. He is the perfect GBF. Ah I’m already tearing up.

I will miss his French accented “Hellllllllllllllloooooooo” each morning; his quiet whispers that he hates his life because he’s tired/hungry/too busy; his serious requests for 500 euro so he can buy a new bag or Tods sneakers; his love of nice restaurants and New York-y activities, especially Central Park and rooftop parties. When asked how his previous night’s activity was? His reply is almost always, “Oh it was just perrrrfect.”

I will miss his insistence on Facebook stalking my upcoming dates – well I guess I still have my mom for that.

I will NOT miss him asking me grammatical questions. Yes I understand English is my first (and really only) language, but I don’t know everything.

I will miss being sent the link to great new music, like this little gem: and random, crazy French videos.

I will miss him going to the classes at the gym with me – particularly Beach Body Bootcamp, or Body Beach as he calls it. I will miss us laughing at each other in the mirror when he can’t keep up with the coordinated routines. And of course, I will miss his monogrammed, flamboyantly colored Nikes.

I’m DEVASTATED.

I will miss you, Matthieu. Come back soon and I’ll marry you for your Green Card. We can check out hot guys together, go shopping and eat delicious meals. It will be just perfect.

Parting is such sweet sorrow. Au revoir, fatty, think of me when you eat croissants and cookies!

xoxo

The Time Has Come to Bid Adieu to My Summer Love

Ask anyone in the city and they’ll tell you to NOT get a boyfriend during the warm weather. No, it’s the time when you’re supposed to be out enjoying the world – aka looking cute in your skimpy summer clothes, meeting hot guys in the Hamptons, and ultimately shacking up with a few randoms. That was my summer last year. Luckily I’ve matured. Or something (like the fact I didn’t have a Hamptons share). Whatever.



So, instead I made the most of my summer in the city, rejected others’ advice, and embraced love.



But now summer is over - he’s leaving me. And I am devastated.



I thought I wanted a boyfriend, but all along I think maybe I’ve just been in need of a gay (French) best friend.



We met at work. Yes I know, normally work relationships are a BAD idea. And he’s a foreigner! But apparently doing the opposite of what you would do to find a hetero-relationship is the best game plan. Then you get someone to entertain you during the day plus, since he is Parisian and snobby, he has nice taste and is always telling me about great restaurants, shops, venues, etc.



His daily presence in the office has been like bright sunshine (if bright sunshine referred to me as “sumo”). He is snarky and chic. He is the perfect GBF. Ah I’m already tearing up.



I will miss his French accented “Hellllllllllllllloooooooo” each morning; his quiet whispers that he hates his life because he’s tired/hungry/too busy; his serious requests for 500 euro so he can buy a new bag or Tods sneakers; his love of nice restaurants and New York-y activities, especially Central Park and rooftop parties. When asked how his previous night’s activity was? His reply is almost always, “Oh it was just perrrrfect.”



I will miss his insistence on Facebook stalking my upcoming dates – well I guess I still have my mom for that.



I will NOT miss him asking me grammatical questions. Yes I understand English is my first (and really only) language, but I don’t know everything.



I will miss being sent the link to great new dance music, like this little gem: and random, crazy French videos.



I will miss him going to the classes at the gym with me – particularly Beach Body Bootcamp, or Body Beach as he calls it. I will miss us laughing at each other in the mirror when he can’t keep up with the coordinated routines. And of course, I will miss his monogrammed, flamboyantly colored Nikes.



I’m DEVASTATED.



I will miss you, Matthieu. Come back soon and I’ll marry you for your Green Card. We can check out hot guys together, go shopping and eat delicious meals. It will be just perfect.



Parting is such sweet sorrow. Au revoir, fatty, think of me when you eat croissants and cookies!



xoxo

Ahhh Christmas Comes Early

So I was super excited to learn (per my ultimate source of stop-working-and-look-at-this fodder, Ashley, thank you) Time Out New York has given us a little present today: 52 single, straight ELIGIBLE bachelors in New York.

The list includes photo, age, where they live and what they do. Clearly my mother was not in charge of making this list because it’s missing her two, most pertinent questions: their height and how they feel about moving to Austin.

Unfortunately, this present is a little like the Christmas when I was in third grade and all I wanted in the whole world was to get my ears pierced. And my mom gave me those stupid magnetic earrings, which I immediately mistook for real earrings and a gesture that I could get them pierced. Psych. I was devastated. Anyway, luckily soon after she and my dad went snow skiing, leaving us at home with the grandparents, and as an incentive to be on good behavior, she let me get them done then. Ahhh bribery, the foundation of good parenting.

I digress. Anyway, so this list was not as awesome as I had hoped it would be.

Its main flaws:

1. I am lazy. I’m only interested in convenience dating - geographic proximity is key. As Liz Lemon wisely advised on 30 Rock, "Long distance is the wrong distance. Dealbreaker!" The majority of these guys do not live on the isle of Manhattan. Yeah I understand the logic that many places in Brooklyn might actually be closer to me than other neighborhoods in Manhattan, but I cannot get past the mental roadblock of there being a river in between us.

2. A lot of them are not attractive or are hipsters. Is that redundant?

3. Allegedly all of these men are straight. I am having a hard time buying that.

So, I’ve weeded out all the total rejects, and in case anyone cares about my taste in men, here are the few that caught my eye. Unfortunately most of them have a few qualities that, well, seal their dealbreaker fate.

#9 is maybe the most my type, but oh Brooklyn, oh dealbreaker.

#25 is hot – but performance artist? I know for a fact that people describe standing creepily as the Statue of Liberty outside Central Park as “performance art”… Dealbreaker.

#30 is cute, but my age & Queens? Dealbreaker.

#35 works at Gawker! Lives in LES. Maybe he could get me a job! I think he’s cute, but I also think Seth Rogan is cute. So there.

#42 has pretty eyes…but my age and I don’t even know where the hell Yorkville is, so dealbreaker.

#46 has pretty hair. But he looks kind of melancholy. And BK dealbreaker.

I think #31 might be the BFF’s soul mate. LOVES ITTTTTTTTTTTTT. HAHAHAHAHA.

"Deplorable"

The word used to self-describe FH 2.0's lack of communication this past week.

Indeed.

I guess that means IF I had been describing our situation in yesterday's post, his friends didn't hate me. Fantastic.

As I'm leaving town for a week, there's a fairly high chance this could be the end. But you never know. I'm clearly not known for my ability to steadfastly commit to ending things, cough cough...Pinch Hitter...cough cough.

Market Research

I feel like my life is a continuous loop of online feedback requests. Whether it’s the annoying pop up surveys when you visit a website, or a follow-up email asking for your comments after a dinner you reserved through Open Table, interactive communication is changing the dynamic of our world. Whether or not you take the time to fill it out is your prerogative, but if you have something to share or recommend about improving the experience, you can. While I’m sometimes skeptical about how much my opinion will make a difference, I still appreciate being proactively presented with the option.



Unfortunately this candid, quick and easy two-way communication has not yet been harnessed where I think it could be most helpful - dating – a terrain in serious need of cooperative feedback to help streamline the many complexities plaguing relationship building in our over-stimulated, attention-deficit culture. Casual dating lacks open and honest communication like Times Square lacks things I enjoy.

The perfect example of when the opportunity to solicit feedback would be invaluable: a guy goes radio silent after you think things had been going well. Out of nowhere you never hear from him again. Perhaps you went to his friend’s intimate birthday dinner with his close friends and their serious girlfriends (last Friday). He insists he wants to see you the following night only to not respond to your text. And then you don’t hear from him for awhile. Clearly things are fading out - it’s fine, it’s life, it’s FJO dating - but the nagging question of WHY will inevitably vex me you. [Note: his friends seemed very nice, not like the kind of people to say they hated you, so hoping that is not the reason.]

While I’ve made a personal commitment to maintain fairly low, early-on expectations about guys I meet, the fact that this totally hypothetical situation could occur is irritating. This behavior from most guys wouldn’t really faze me, but seeing as how a certifiable member of MPD has fallen off the radar, I can’t help being a little perplexed…I mean, I WOULD feel this way if I found myself in this situation...

Now, I can be totally guilty of the same bullshit dating faux pas. Sometimes I don’t return calls, maybe it’s because I’m busy and I forget, maybe I don’t see the point since I know it’s not going anywhere. Whatever it is, it's bitchy; maybe he cares, maybe he doesn’t. But if a guy cared enough to straight up ask me why I abruptly ended things, I think I would respond. And maybe guys who blow off girls would too?

This is when a handy email survey, Facebook or iPhone app would be perf. A “So How Come You Just Weren’t That into Her/Him” quick questionnaire would save a lot of wondering.

The post-dining survey would be a great one to mimic:

We would appreciate your feedback about your experience at Mercer Kitchen hanging out with Rachel on August 29, 2009. Please take a moment to fill out our Dining Dating Feedback Form:

Food?
Service?
Ambiance?
Noise?
Overall experience?

Ok, well maybe I’ll have to change a few of the categories, but you know what I mean.

Not that I’m suggesting public reviews of my dating or anything – this blog is clearly more than enough overshare to go around - but it would be nice to be able to discreetly solicit feedback after things end with a guy.

An outside third party could provide you with the closure – and valuable dating insight – that would help you go on with life without having to spend the next two weeks obsessing over WHY.

Yeah maybe he might make up an excuse, but at least it’s SOMETHING. Or maybe he will admit the reason he stopped talking to you is, in fact, the hidden insecurity you feared it to be, and you’re heart broken. But you will get over it. Because at least you know - at least the uncertainty is gone. Plus then you will learn that all those bullshit excuses you feed yourself (and your friends considerately feed you) are crap. Man up.

Although, since girls are crazy, this genius idea has a fairly high chance of back-firing. If his reasons aren’t deemed as acceptable excuses, a girl could send a million texts in retaliation. But I figure those girls are probably the same ones who would send a million text messages to inquire why he wasn’t calling them back in the first place.

Maybe this isn’t the worst idea?