Slaying the Dragon

I recall a conversation Leo and I had a little over a year ago when I had to make a quick stop at the bank to make a deposit. We were discussing blogs that we both read and a recent trend we had noticed:

Once a blogger (who was single) found themselves married or in a relationship, their blog suddenly became... well, shitty. The entries that suddenly turned sappy, gushy, and shouted to the world how "perfect" their lives were. I'm almost positive that everyone can think of a once-favorite blogs that have followed down this path. They once had great stories and theories of the opposite sex... now they are just bullet pointed lists of what Netflix movies they plan on watching with their "hubby" that Friday night.

Leo and I tried to theorize why we thought this was. And we agreed on this: a great story always has a conflict. Once that central challenge is gone, the story is over. As much as we root for our hero, the real joy comes in seeing the hero overcome obstacles and struggle to achieve something greater.

Leo: So what are you going to do when you find that next girl?
So@24: Fuck. I don't know. I guess I haven't thought that far ahead.

* * *

The last few weeks have been an intense whirl wind of "whatthefuckisgoingon". Dizzying, exciting highs and extreme patches of confusion. A lot of emotions coming at me all at once like the furious jabs of Great Tiger in Mike Tyson's Punch Out!

Damn you Mirage Dance!

I needed some time to unbend a paper clip and reset my brain's alarm clock. To take a breather and evaluate shit.

And in these past few days, I've thought back to the conversation that Leo and I had long ago and how it might apply now. This isn't to say that I'm married, that I've found that "next girl", or even in a definitive "relationship".

But my time with Beth has been something that I haven't experienced in years and instead of over-analyzing everything to death, I've made a pledge to myself to just enjoy it for what it is at the moment. It is, what it is.

As I said before, when I started this blog, I was in a place where I actually thought I'd never get to experience certain things ever again with anyone. Probably an irrational fear, but one that felt very real at the time.

When you find yourself suddenly completely separated from someone after 6 years, you think that no one else is going to laugh at your lame jokes (I totally get it now Mark Hoppus!), to accept your fucking bizarre quirks... and to just overall "get you".

There are things that I considered sacred between Lynn and me. It was scary and extremely difficult to imagine that I might do/experience these things with someone else. Little things. Reaching over to turn off the lamp on your night stand and to have someone right there next to you, or reaching over to pick food off the person's plate and not thinking twice about it (and vice versa), or to pick up groceries to sustain both of you for an entire weekend.

But to my pleasant surprise, everything came naturally.

One night, Beth asked me to tell her about Lynn and what really led to our demise. I took a breath and laid it out for her. Like a trooper, she sat and listened to me spew my tale and guzzled a bottle of wine in the process. You gotta respect a girl who seeks out that knowledge and takes it like a champ. With booze. Yessssssssss.

I don't know what is going to happen with Beth. But what I know now is that what I once was terrified of, I don't have to be anymore. I can't put that kind of relief into words.

And I guess that's where we come full circle to what happens with this blog now. I've been struggling as to how to write now. My fears have been slain like some fairytale dragon. I started this blog as a means for guys in my similar position (and really, for myself) to see that there is a light at the end of the tunnel, that there is nothing to be scared of. I've proven to myself and others that, there isn't.

So now what?

I need some time to think about where I go from here.

Closing the Bree Chapter

Sometimes I forget that this blog is not just about drunk stories or random ponderings as to why I seem to can't seem to understand women.

It's actually about the journey and the harsh lessons learned by this hideous, bitch goddess we most often refer to as "dating".

Learning shit is the backbone of this humble, lil blog. And I learned a valuable dating lesson I'd like to share.

Fuck yeah you did.

When I've been excited about the prospects of a girl, I'm not one to do so quietly. I'm that little hen who clucks all over the farm about it.

Of course, I'm nearsighted and I never think about having to explain to people what happened to the girl when things don't turn out as expected. Then I have to go through the humiliating process of explaining WHY things fell apart.

I can't tell you how many times I've had "So, what happened with Bree?" asked to me. Emails, friends... whew, it's been tiring. I guess I'll feed you, baby birds.

And as many times as I have had to answer that question, my answer is always the same (and kind of lackluster):

Nothing.

A phone call with Bree, shortly after meeting her in Santa Barbara, was one of the most refreshing, no-bullshit, honest conversations I've ever had the pleasure of being a part of.

I had wanted to know where I stood. However, before I get raged on by commenters, I'm no idiot. I wasn't wanting a relationship or trying to force a weird, ultimatum out of her... I simply wanted to feel out if we were on the same page. We had always been pretty upfront up to this point and Bree's straightforward approach was something I always admired.

Not to bore with intimate details, but basically she told me that she was happy with her life as it was, didn't want change. She's extremely driven and work is her #1 priority. She wanted to keep things casual.

And I was... actually fine with that! It was so nice to not have to play some tortuous guessing game and to just be up front. I got what I needed out of the conversation.

But really, what can you do after that point? Phone calls and IM conversations suddenly stopped being so frequent. Everything is fine and cordial, but once a conversation like that takes place... you have to be prepared for the pixie magic to kind of just... fizzle out. After all, where is it supposed to go?

Again, it's not like I was anxious to change my Facebook status to "In a Relationship" or anything. To be honest, I didn't even know what I wanted. But if there isn't a chance at all for anything to move forward... then you're really just sitting in murky tub water wallowing in your own filth.

This is the lesson I learned. Shit like this happens all the time in dating situations and it doesn't HAVE to always be some agonizing, terrible experience. It's like getting barbecue sauce all over your face while eating ribs: it's supposed to happen! If you aren't getting messy, you aren't doing it right.

I spend so much time cutting through the thick, dating jungle vines with a dull machete, trying to find that perfect (albeit cliche') combination of the smart, cute, funny girl... that I lose sight of the fact that once I find that girl, there's still one large hurdle to cross: she has to be into me too.

That's what dating is. Trying to find someone that links up to you like two L block Tetris pieces. Sometimes you come close to a perfect Tetris, but sometimes you're going to get that at-first-glance-seems-ideal-but-ultimately-fits-awkwardly Cross shape.

It's just the way it is.

I Think It's Time for a Zach Morris' Time Out

"TIME OUT"

Remember when Zach Morris in Saved by the Bell used to do that? Everyone would freeze and he would approach the camera, breaking the fourth wall, to give his opinion when shit was getting a little too real at Bayside High?

I need to use use one of those right about now.

* * *

Whew.

I'm beginning to see the price in having a completely, 100%, honest blog about my "dating" life. It completely drains you emotionally.

When you do a "juicy" or controversial post like the one I did yesterday, you can expect to get a spike in both blog hits and blog comments. Comments that are pretty fucking harsh. It almost makes you want to throw up your hands and not continue to write. I either read these and think to myself, "Did you even read what I wrote?" or "Why are these people even reading?"

However, these comments are also balanced by the good ones. The readers who come out from the woodwork and actually will leave an extremely heartfelt, thoughtful, constructive comment or spend time to send me an email. One with genuine concern. It's a little reminder about one of the best perks of blogging.

So, thank you.

* * *

I feel like I need to clarify some things about the voice my blog in direct relation to the response I got from yesterday's post.

I wasn't trying to ask the girl's hand in marriage.
I wasn't trying to go steady with the girl.
I wasn't trying to sleep with the girl.
I wasn't trying to fondle her lady bits.
I wasn't trying to play sleep over (although I'm confident she'd build an excellent pillow fort)
I wasn't trying to force my way into her weekend plans.

Please give me some credit here, I'm not an idiot.

I just thought she was a genuinely cool person who I wanted to meet in person. I haven't had the pleasure of meeting a lot of quality people in recent years... so when you happen to come across one: you want to see what it's all about.

I'm an average guy who has average thoughts who happens to write them down in a public forum for the sole purpose of entertainment. No, I don't get paid for it. No, I don't get laid because of it.

Leo, of course, had thoughts on his own. I won't write them all down here, but he did have this sage advice to give in a way only Leo can:

Long and the short--I think you've got to be more patient. Rome wasn't built in a day. There's that old weird science fact--you drop a frog into boiling water, it'll hop out, lightly blanched. But put it in warm water and slowly raise the temperature...it boils alive. Basically, I think you should boil Bree alive.

She will learn in due time that you are charming, funny, witty, and most of all, completely genuine and a genuine sweetheart. I can't believe I just wrote that.

Anyway, too much too fast isn't good. You always say you're not a patient man, but dude, you have got to become one.

However, an email from Jack, was something I felt held a little more weight... or at least I felt that he understood me better. I guess you can be the judge:

As much as you consult and seek opinions etc. I think deep down you usually retain the option and end up doing what ever the fuck you want regardless of what we say.

There is no one correct way to pick up and meet girls, everyone has to evolve their own process and method. The problem with game, in my experience, is that it's what one uses to finesse a pick-up/hook-up that lacks sufficient chemistry to run on it's own. One essentially acts like someone they really aren't, and the flip-side is you can't act surprised when the girl you then end up with is a bad fit/the kind of girl that would date the person you were pretending to be.

Sometimes game is useful to get past the awkward nervous parts like the initial pick-up, but at the end of the day, the more you can just be you with a girl from day 1, the better you're gonna be down the road.

I write all of this to say that you seem intent on doing it your way and I don't begrudge you that. You think you've figured out something that works, so embrace it. While I guess, statistically, you're going to meet with less broad success, maybe your targeted results will be better. Regardless, you're committed now, so might as well play this one out.

He's right. I don't keep myself up til wee hours of the morning, with a pencil tucked behind my ear, three different colored highlighters in hand, pouring over books like The Game.

I go with my gut and what I feel is right. My theory is, if the girl is "weirded out", than I filtered out the one who wasn't ever going to work out in the long run anyway.

I can only be me.

* * *

The misinterpretation from a lot of readers yesterday is rooted back to an even larger issue about my blog (or maybe my writing style isn't doing its job by being effective in communicating).

I rarely censor my blog. And I there's a part of me that's has a sense of pride about that fact. I think that's why people read it. It's unabashed and I try to stay true to that. I write about whatever comes into my head or whatever I am experiencing at that specific moment in my life as it happens; specifically about my dating life.

I don't retell stories of the past (very rarely) and I don't make up stories when ye' olde blogging material be slow (and yes, I have been directly accused of doing this).

But because I just write about whatever comes into my head, I think that people read into it and take things more seriously than I actually do in "the real world".

And maybe Leo is right. Maybe with me being too loyal to the creed of my blog, I sacrifice some of my well-being in my real life.

Time in.

He Said / She Said Vol 2: Dating an Atheist

Welcome to Volume 2 of the He Said / She Said.

Two different views, one male, one female, on the same topic.

This edition is written with the blogger Emmeline from Harmful if Swallowed.

Read her response here.

Emmeline had written me an email a few weeks ago (amongst a few others in response to a sentence in this post). Here is a quick excerpt:

The main thing that piques my interest is our different religious associations. You call yourself an atheist. I call myself a Christian. In the end, we are both two American, 20-something Democrats with a good sense of humor and a penchant for drinking on the weekends.

It just makes me wonder . . . why am I Christian and you're not? How can two people who live halfway across the country from each other share so many similarities but be so different on this fundamentally important issue?

* * *

I can't begin to count how many times I've come across a girl (in some form or another) who seems to have the makings of some one who I'd be interested in learning more about and discover that they usually are a combination of the following things:

• cute
• witty, funny, or at least appreciate things that are
  
• short
  
• we share the same obscure interests (e.g. she might casually mention that her favorite feeling is when you come back from recess and you see your book order waiting on your desk)

If a girl has even just two of these things, it's enough to get me giggling like a school girl.

But then I found out that they are "religious".

And then I ironically yell an exasperated, "Goddammit!"

As an atheist, it's like racing down a hill on your brand new Huffy only to have someone suddenly shove a ski pole through your front spokes.

A very quick, Reader's Digest version of my religious upbringing and how I came to be an atheist. I was brought up in a Christian household. We said prayers before meals, we went to church on Sundays, during the summers my aunt had us watch McGee and Me. I didn't grow up in a insanely strict, religious environment. It was never forced down my throat.

However, for as long as I can remember, it never clicked with me. I'd go to Youth Group or sit at Sunday service, look to the person on my left, then to the person on my right and think to myself, "I just don't believe any of this." I felt extremely guilty that I couldn't force myself to believe in The Bible and God. At the age of 8 or 9, I finally built up the courage and told my mother that I wasn't going to church anymore. And that was that.

Of course, if the cute, Church girls in high school were going on a field trip... well, I had to go. Oops.


I have spent a lot of this blog bitching and moaning about how difficult it is to date girls. It's been an unfruitful journey to find decent, attractive and intellectually stimulating girls who, in turn, find the same qualities in me.

It's even harder to find a girl who fits all the above AND ALSO doesn't believe in God.

da girl chart.

I'm slowly coming to the realization that I'm going to have to be okay with dating someone who isn't an atheist. If I were to immediately dismiss every single girl based on this, my dating window becomes smaller than it already has been.

However, I get that I might be presumptuous thinking it works that way for the other team. From my understanding, it's either all or nothing. It's one area that can't be compromised; especially if you're investing for the long run.

I feel like a fucking leper (See? I can drop a bible ref when appropriate!) when it comes to being an atheist in the dating world. I wouldn't say I'm scared to admit it, because I'm proud of who I am and will defend my view if asked. But it's not a shocker that we get a bad rep. I just happen to live in a country that is predominately Christian.

When I constructed an online dating profile, I was warned by a reader to completely take out the word "Atheist" and simply stick with, "Very respectful of others' beliefs as long as they aren't proselytizing." Of course, that's completely true. I'm NOT attracted to anyone who doesn't accept and respect another person's ideas or beliefs (and this goes for atheists too).

I suppose it's all about how you spin it in the beginning, right? And later on down the line, it has to be about compromise. She wants to get married in a church and a traditional Christian wedding? Alright, fine. But she'll have to compromise on her end at some point. After all, it's all about compromise, right?

If I can leave all the religious folk with one thing, I'd like to urge you to keep an open mind with us atheists (if you don't already). We're not Bible burners. We don't think you're unintelligent or less of a person for your beliefs. We love our families, we're good with kids, we got choked up during Slumdog Millionaire, we know the lyrics to Paul Simon's "You Can Call me Al".





We're just like you.

Except for that one part.

A Tale of Two Dudes: Pt. 2

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

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

On the side lines,
So@24

* * *

Leo

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jack

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

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

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

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

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

Leo

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

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

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

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

Fin.

* No Strings Attached, 'member?

A Tale of Two Dudes: Pt. 1

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Enjoy,
So@24

* * *

Jack

Who hates dating though?

Leo

-Raises hand-

Jack

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

Leo

I think this is where you and I differ.

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

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

Jack

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

Leo

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

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

Jack

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

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

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

Leo

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

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

Jack

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

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

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

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

Curtain.
Part 2 on Friday.

* No Strings Attached

That Never Happens

The night before, I drank my insides dry. Fucking Halloween, man. I don't really remember much of the evening, except that I had a tiny flash of memory of me telling a girl that her Hannah Montana outfit "sucked balls" because it doesn't count by just dressing up like a teen girl.

E.g. I was making friends.

Good one, So... good one.

* * *
Ladies. If you know what I was (without cheating!),
I'll marry you on the spot.

I rolled out of my friend Chad's futon, still dressed in my Mega Man outfit and immediately switched into my purple and gold Husky jersey. My friend Tim was expecting me at the tailgate 2 hours ago.

I stuck out like a sore thumb, wading through a sea of maroon and gold. But God bless the USC campus and the beautiful students that roam. God bless them.

The tailgate was fine aside from my pounding headache. A couple of beers went down the hatch to drown out that hangover. Worked like a charm; it always does.

My friend Tim was a great host, he manned the grill and introduced me to all of his graduate peers. They were friendly and didn't give me a hard time for wearing colors of the school that they would inevitably slaughter on the football field.

When it came time to leave for the game, one of Tim's friends tapped me on the shoulder.

Tim's Friend: Hey, bro! What's your name?
So@24: So@24. Nice to meet you.
Tim's Friend: Hey bro hey. One of my friend's friends was asking about you.
So@24: Whoa. Really? ... Wait. A girl right?
Tim's Friend: Uh. Yeah, bro.

-trying to be cool and casual and not to be obvious by looking around-

So@24: Who is she?
Tim's Friend: She left, bro.
So@24: Left? Left?? Why didn't she say anything?
Tim's Friend: She's shy, man. But she said you were cute... kept asking me about "Number 10".
So@24: ... well thanks anyway, Tim's Friend.

That shit NEVER happens to me. But of course, the trail goes cold and I'm left wondering where the fuck my tailgating, 2 min. Cinderella ran off to and what she looked like.

Just like that she was forgotten as quickly as she was introduced.

However, it was a nice little (albeit very, very brief) ego boost.

This reinforces my theory that at this period it's almost crucial that your friends HAVE to throw you a bone and help you out. You're at the mercy of having friends introduce you to their friends and make friends with their friends, etc.

You have to start somewhere by meeting new people and if that means breaking out of your comfort zone by choking down that watered down Bloody Mary despite your raisin-esque innards telling you to "fuck off" just to socialize with a new group of people with the slight chance of meeting a new girl... well...

... "Pass me the lime."

Where To Meet The Next One

Riding my bike on my way to work this morning, I saw a cute little blond girl walking on the bike path.

I can't pinpoint exactly when this mindset evolved with me, but there came a point where I became convinced I'm going to meet that "next girl" at very specific locations in my life. Maybe this is where that cliche' of meeting someone in the vegetable section in a grocery store stems from?

There's this single guy instinct in me that thinks that this bike path from my condo to work is going to be "that" next place. Before it was this outdoor restaurant in Los Feliz. I think that singlelites of both sexes believe that there's some specific location in their lives where this will happen. There ALWAYS has to be "a place".

But now it's this bike path! I just know it!

So I keep an eye out for those who are walking their dogs and going for walks. This blond in particular looked like she was on her way to work. Cute head band, the ever-fashionable, buggy Los Angeles sunglasses, cute freckles.

Maybe I'll see her again tomorrow. I've already played it out in my head. I'll be so charmingly befuddled by her good looks (a la' Hugh Grant in every movie role he's ever done) that I'll lose control of my bike and crash into a tree. She'll drop her purse, toss away her pink iPod earphones and crouch next to my crumpled body to see if I'm okay. She'll find it adorable. We'll set up a date and the rest is history.

It's only after I passed her that I realized I have on the Most Unattractive Article You Can Put On The Human Body: the bike helmet.

Maybe I can compensate next time by putting a playing card in my spokes and making it sound like a badass road hog.

Nothing Ventured, Nothing Gained Pt. 2

For Part 1, go here.

Well fuck.

I didn't think she'd actually respond. Now I had a daunting task ahead of me: to explain via text messaging the entire story of how I know this girl, who I met once, three years ago, and not come off as a complete slalker/creeper.

Whew.

I must have done a pretty decent job, because we ended up texting back and forth for the remainder of the night. I was impressed at what a good sport she was about the whole thing.

No, she didn't remember me at all; which wasn't surprising considering how much we had to drink. That one night. Almost 3 years ago.

The last message she sent was, "Here's my last name __________. Send me a message on Facebook. Maybe that will clear things up"

So I found her. To my pleasant surprise:

• She actually looked familiar from the memory I had
  
• She was way better looking than my original memory. Like. Out of my league gorgeous.

I wrote her the detailed version of what I remember from our very brief encounter. It was as innocuous as I could be given the bizarre and random circumstances.

As of 12:07am on Thursday, October 16th 2008, I have not received a response to that message.

* * *

There's something to be learned of this experience. I wish I had a greater story to share... a story of absolute triumph, full of rainbows and a continues looped soundtrack of "Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head". I wish I could tell you that, especially with the big build up.

But the thing is, I didn't even know what would happen when I sent that text message to a complete stranger I met years ago. I wrote about it as it happened and you waited along with me for Part 2. We waited together.

That's such a great metaphor for the dating world, isn't it? You do what you can and you just have to fucking wait and see what comes of it.

Being a single male in my mid 20s, you encounter a lot of girls. And I don't mean to paint a bleak picture, but a lot of them are going to suck or flake. That's just how it is. But that's what it means to be single and to date.

Each time you meet one, no matter how great or how terrible she may be, you build up a little library. When that one doesn't make the cut (or she doesn't fancy your trousers), you file her away in a dossier. You know to avoid that one the next time. You make the mental note.

And eventually your dossier becomes full and you have that much more experience to learn from for the next time.

The Joker, The Alpha, and The Good Ol' Boy

I wasn't quite sure what to expect going out to the bars for the first time with a relatively new group of guys.

I don't know Marty very well and I've only socialized with him when Leo was around. This was going to be a totally new experience.

The bar we were going to was within walking distance, which means... you fill up on carbonated deliciousness for free beforehand.

As Marty and I worked our way through a 12 pack discussing world politics, possible solutions to the subprime mortgage crisis, and the brilliance of Samuel L. Jackson's delivery of "I am sick of these motherfucking snakes on this motherfucking plane", we were joined by two of Marty's roommates: RJ and Alex.

RJ plopped down on a leather couch with his hands shoved in the front pocket of his hoodie and Alex's shiny shoes clicked on the hardwood as he strolled over to the mini bar to pour himself a drink.

The empty beer cans piled up and RJ got to talking. I'm not sure how it started, but he started to explain to me the strategies that each of his roommates use to successfully court women.

RJ: It's simple. Every guy has his own place on the game board. Think of it like Monopoly. Some guys are the top hat or the iron or the thimble. A thimble shouldn't try to be the iron and vice versa. The thimble needs to focus on a being a thimble.

So@24: Go on.

RJ leaned forward in his chair. This was some serious shit here.

RJ: Let's break me down first. I know I'm not a bad looking dude, but I'm not like my boy Alex over here. I do know that I am a funny guy. So I embrace that. All I do is, approach a girl... say a funny line, listen to them for a little bit, say something funny based on what they just told me. Bam. Done.

So@24: Alright, what about Alex?

Alex smirks and pours himself another cocktail.

RJ: Check out that motherfucker. Doesn't talk much, right? It's because he doesn't need to! He knows how to dress and when he comes into the room, girls instantly notice him. He's got that Alpha Male complex down PAT. Girls eat that up. They sniff out confidence; they can't get enough of it. That's his game and that's what he does well.

RJ: Last up on the chopping block is my boy Marty over here. There are a ton of girls out here who love the idea of getting on some guy who isn't "LA". Marty fits that need. Tall, white boy from Kentucky. Cleans up nice and has a face you'd be proud to bring home to mommy.


RJ: It's so fucking simple. I never get why guys have such a hard time with this concept. I can't be as suave as Alex, Alex can't play off as the good ol' boy like Marty, and Marty can't bust out a joke quite like me. You just have to focus on what's good about YOU and make sure that girls see that right away. Now drink up, it's time to head out!

Farewell Crazy Janice!

When Crazy Janice texted me a message "hey you! i'm going to be in la tonight! meet me at barneys!!", I couldn't resist the invitation.

A very brief, lightening speed recap for those who aren't caught up on the Janice front. Crazy J is a huge attention whore, had her middle name legally changed to "Kawk Teez", and a New Zeland kiwi could shame her on an IQ test.

But she has nice sweater yams.

I don't keep in contact with ol' Janice very often (for obvious reasons). And I'm used to the game that she plays... it's a routine we've gotten into. She makes a coy, "cute" joke about how we're going to make out, we meet up for a couple of drinks, and at the end of the night we leave separately. At first I was annoyed by this, but I've come to expect it and if you expect it and don't give two shits; it's all in good fun.

This particular evening, our usual, tried & true method of interaction didn't quite go down as usual.

Now Janice has her good qualities. She is the girl you don't have to take seriously or even pretend to be interested in. She'll take any shot you put in front of her (as long as you do one too!) and can be good for just that "surface level" fun that can be refreshing. Think of her like a shitfaced pinata.

We guzzled Redbull Vodkas, took a couple of "bartender's choice" shots and in general: got down with our alchy selves.

But closing time was drawing near and I could tell my friends wanted to take off. This is how our conversation went down.

So@24: Alright I think we're taking off. Good to see you again.
Crazy Janice: I didn't get drunk enough tonight, so I'm not down to make out with you. Maybe you can try your luck again tomorrow night.

Wait. A. Fucking. Tick.

Now maybe it was booze. Maybe I have just been overly sensitive of girls who will suck the blood (see: attention) of absolutely any male they come across in order to stave off death (see: Caitlin). But I took this as a pretty presumptuous and insulting quip coming from this girl. I never made any gesture that I wanted to make out with her. Pretty fucking bold. And did she just say that she had to be drunk to make out with me?

A visual would be much better than my words will be able to describe, but stick with me. Imagine I am over-acting as all hell. Sarcasm oozing from my pores.

So@24: Oh shit! Me? You?? I get to hang out with you?? With the possibility of making out? Tomorrow?
Crazy Janice: Oh fuck you, So. You fucking asshole!

Patrons of the bar are turning to see what all the commotion is about.

So@24: So I guess we're on tomorrow right? You know, to possibly make out?

I have an enormous grin plastered to my face, I toss up two double thumbs up and start to moonwalk out the door.

Crazy Janice: FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU!

Two of my friends start to awkwardly squeeze past her.

Crazy Janice: Are you friends with that fuck??
Two Friends: Um. Yes?
Crazy Janice: Well fuck you too then!

* * *

Doogie Howser Writing in his Diary on his Commodore 64 Moment
* * *

With every nice guy, there comes this boiling point. Where we get sick of always getting trampled upon, our genuinely nice gestures get taken for granted and taking it up the ass like Jennifer Connelly's character in Requium for a Dream. These girls who just like to dangle the carrot are so transparent, it's laughable. I had to take one back for us.

And I think hit that line when she thought she had some upper hand on me.

Needless to say, I think that's the last time I'll ever hear from Crazy Janice.

Me and Ashley and Me

He sat at the entrance of the bar at in a plain black t-shirt and flashed a devil-may-care smile. We shook hands and immediately got seated. I ordered a pint of New Castle and he got himself a green bottle of Heineken.

I'm sure we were quite the sight to most of the bar patrons. A 6'5", Caucasian, male in his mid-forties dining with a 5'3", 25 year old Asian who could pass as sixteen. What could possibly bring these two guys together? Well. Blogging.

Ol' Riff Dog (his alias) and I don't share very many readers; which is not surprising considering what we both have decided to write about on our respective slices of the internet. He is a family man using the controversial website AshleyMadison.com to find... well, companionship in women other than his wife. My blog was born out of the ashes from a burned relationship and trying to find that next girl.

But then again, maybe Riff Dog and I aren't so much different. We're both looking for something. And that something is something that only our mysterious counterpart, the fairer sex, can provide.

I went into the "blogging convention" with visions of Riff Dog taking me under his wing, drinking scotch on the rocks and telling me the secrets to his success with women. What actually transpired wasn't exactly what I thought would happen, but it was fun. I mostly listened to his adventures on AshleyMadison, we exchanged our online "dating" horror stories, and I answered some of his questions he had about So@24.

Riff Dog: So, lemme get something straight..."
So@24: Sure.
Riff Dog: You had a friend who you used to go out with and she would pass out in your bed...
So@24: Mmhmm.
Riff Dog: And you didn't do anything? Nothing at all?
So@24: Nope. She's always been strictly a friend. Nothing would ever, ever happen.

Riff Dog shook his head in disbelief.

It's always hard to explain that I have girls that have been and always will be just friends.

When it was time to go, Riff was kind enough to pay the bill (Thanks, Riff!) and we shook hands once more. He headed back to his home with his family and I headed back to my apartment to finish up Season 2 of Hey Dude. Told you we were different.

What did I learn with my encounter from the electrifying and suave, Riff Dog? Unfortunately, I did not get the magical step-by-step process in which to charm my way into the heart (or undies) of any woman I encounter.

But I did walk away with something.

I want to say that there comes a point where you grow out of, or at the very least embrace, your insecurities. At 25, we're still too pussified to make moves and put ourselves on the line. We still feel too vulnerable to women.

I think there is something that comes from being at the stage where Riff is versus where I am now. He oozes of confidence and he's the type that when he knows what he wants, he goes for it. I believe that I'll be there someday.

At least, that's my theory.

Facebook Stalking? Never! Ok, that's a lie. But I'm alright with that.

Is it so wrong that when I see a cute girl, I automatically search for her profile on Facebook?

Or what about utilizing that (often dreaded) "Friends You May Know" application? Is it so wrong that my interest piques if I see a cute girl who is a UW alumus, lives in Manhattan Beach, and we have 31 friends in common?

I know for a fact that I'm not the only person to do this or at least have this train of thought. I am going to make the bold claim that a large majority of my fellow peers Facebook stalk. It's the fastest way and most effective way to get that quick information about a girl. Bam! Bam! Bam!

Is she cute? At least from these pictures. I'll give her the benefit of the doubt and chalk that trucker hat pic up to the half empty half g of cheap vodka.
Is she single? Sweet.
Favorite music? Oh fuck yeah, she likes The Decemberists!
Favorite activities? I don't agree with her "Sex & the City nights with the girls" policy, but I do like her "napping" policy.

Hey! Will you look at that; she's friends with my ol' frat bro Troggy! Maybe he can put in a good word?

Now look me in my blogging eyes and tell me I'm the only person that does this! I'm not saying I'd go as far as to have the balls to just randomly "Friend Request" a complete stranger. But I don't think there's anything wrong with doing a little homework.

Maybe this is what it's come to. Maybe this is how people get dates these days?

The "scene" is not like it was 50 years ago. And this isn't just about dating, but a means of social interaction in general. Think about it. We're not like our grandfathers who stop off at the local watering hole with buddies after work to sling a few drinks before heading home.

Instead, we're sending out shitty evites decorated with shitty clip art.

I don't particularly like the rules, but I'm coming to realize that maybe it's time that I played by them. Maybe it's time that I lose my iron grip on the door frame and admit that, yeah... it's how people are doing it these days.

Ideally, I'd still like to say I met my next girlfriend (as Leo put it) when we locked eyes while crossing paths on a hike up Mt. Kilimanjaro...

But maybe the next one will come from me clicking on Blankets and seeing which attractive girls in my area also appreciate its genius...

Masochism at its Worst: Falling for Flirty Girls

I have a detrimental pattern that I can trace back to my very first crush. I thought this was something I, alone, had a problem with. But a conversation with a friend over the weekend made me realize that this isn't the case; it's a problem for other guys too.

The masochistic pattern is falling for the overly flirty girl.

Well no shit, So. Everyone also likes ice cream. And a person who flirts with them.

Okay. Fine. But my point is that there are a small band of us who have this cycle of actually falling for the same type of girl... the type of girl who never actually intends to reciprocate.

We're idiots. We're that little Pomeranian you can punt across the lawn and it'll come yapping back ready for more! Or better yet, you can even compare us to Charlie Brown and Lucy pulling away the goddamn football every goddamn time.

I feel your pain, Chuck.

In any case, there's kicking of some sorts involved.

It's extremely difficult to break this vicious cycle. You can't help what you find attractive; there's something electrifying when a girl singles you out (no matter how brief) and laughs at your jokes or hooks an arm around you or sends you an ambiguous text message. It's addicting, we crave it and we'll make up excuses to allow it to continue.

And every time one of these types flirts with us, we foolishly think that we're special. We're unique. Why do we do that?

Even though I know her history of leaving men in a trail of bloody, heart-juice... it doesn't mean shit. We think that "we're the one that was able to tame"

"Come on," we think. "She can't be acting this way to EVERYONE."

But let's be honest with ourselves. That's mostly the case.

I always wonder who these types eventually settle down with. What was their courtship ritual with the guy they end up in a relationship with? Is it the same method of sickeningly, blatant flirtation? Do they eventually reach that point where they end up being the antelope instead of the jaguar?

How can guys like myself rewire ourselves? We're conditioned to take signs of flirtation and translate it to "this girl has an interest in me romantically". Otherwise, how else are you EVER supposed to know if a girl likes you?

More importantly, how can you change your thought process to not be smitten with these girls who delight in making fruit smoothies out of our guts?

The Shacking Patterns of Women

Shacking.

Girls sleeping over and staying in the bed of a male that is someone who is not a significant other.*

This isn't something that I'm particularly used to (not a surprise that a long term girlfriend would frown upon me doing this when we dated), but after Jenny stayed over... I conjured up a theory. As I often tend to do.

My theory is: girls shacking methods might be correlated with their personalities.

And since I really only have two girls as my case studies, they will have to do in order to explain my train of thought.

Beth

Shacking Habits:

• passed out in her dress on New Years
• will often grab a t-shirt from my drawer on her own
• sleeps in my t-shirt and undies
• passes out
  
• since I only have one pillow, we share it
  

Personality Traits:

• Disorganized, frantic in stressful situations
  
• spontaneous/sporadic
• go-with-the-flow attitude
• Ideal Evening = Rusty Nails followed by grilled cheese sandwiches and reruns of Strangers with Candy and/or cartoons
  
• has been known to chase Monarch vodka w/ Grey Goose
  

Jenny

Shacking Habits:

• Asked me to provide shorts and a t-shirt
• Requested an additional pillow (Thanks Leo!)
  
• falls asleep
• Ideal Evening = dancing and reruns of Sex & the City and/or Friends
  
• fell asleep in a very casual, proper manner (if that makes sense)

Personality Traits:

• Extremely organized
• likes to have events/gatherings planned out in advance
• focused, goal driven
  
• enjoys a good wine
  

Again, just a theory. Not sure how credible it is, but it was two examples that are very different when provided with the same scenario.




* good catch, Commenter!

"You Coulda Cleaned Up!"

I've heard this phrase said to me a handful of times.

It's usually on night where I decided to go home early [got too drunk at the bar] or stay in [got too drunk before going to bar] or I didn't join my friends at the bar they wanted to go to [wanted to drink at home after the bar].

But it's always under the same circumstances. "You coulda cleaned up, man!"

"Really?? Why??"

"It was all asians there!"

Huh. So it's come to that has it?

Is that really what it's going to take? Are my only chances with asian girls? Even at that, how can people be so sure that magically, the scales will tip in my favor?

It's no secret that I'm a halfie, but why is it that people always think I am going to fare much better when I am with girls who share the same ethnicity as me? I wonder if this is a trend that holds water.

The Giving Tree: A Glimpse Into My Twisted Mind?

Jack: What did you pick up at Barnes and Nobles again?
So@24: A book on Greek mythology, Aesop's fables, and The Giving Tree.
Jack: The Giving Tree is heartbreaking man.
So@24: It's fucking deep.
Jack: Makes me really sad. I hate the boy, selfish prick.
So@24: Did you know there have been some really intense debates about the meaning of that book? Some say the relationship is supposed to be that of a parent and a child: the parents always gives and the child always takes. The relationship is inevitable!
Jack: I almost don't want to know, it's such an intregal part of my childhood.
So@24: Damn. That tree gave so much.
So@24: I remember when I was little, I wondered if the tree was sexually interested in the little boy.
Jack: Wow. Really? How would that even work?
So@24: I have no idea.
Jack: You're a weird dude sometimes, So@24. I think about sex constantly, probably more than most people and I'm aware of that and "ok" with it. Sometimes I don't think you worry about it as much, then you say shit like that and I don't know what to think.
So@24: I often think the same.
Jack: This fascinates me.
So@24: I remember being a little boy and being ashamed I thought that. I sat in the corner in my Oshkosh B'gosh overalls and a single tear rolled down my cheek.
Jack: Dude! What do you think that means? Maybe that was formative part of how you view/treat women now.
So@24: Who can really say for sure?
Jack: You never know. I bet the Giving Tree is the root of all this. That's my new theory at least. Godspeed, Oshkosh.

Giving Your Number Takes "Cajones"??

Veronica shared with me an interesting experience she had over the weekend. She's an event coordinator and during a large event on Sunday, she got asked for her number... not once, not twice, but THRICE.

Now when I saw her, she wasn't wearing your typical, sexy get-up you tend to see on a night out. Stilettos were no where in sight and her two-prong was left unused. Her uniform to this event was a polo shirt, khaki shorts, and she was covered in sweat from the California sun.

We were both shocked at her obtaining three suitors in a single afternoon. What gave the first two guys the balls to do so? My theory was that they knew she was working (the uniform probably tipped them off) so that it's harder to turn down a guy when they are technically your customer. I predict a lot of waitresses get asked for their numbers.

The third guy (and the one she is most interested in), however, didn't ask for her number. He did another strategy, which I love and might mirror in the future. He had worked side by side with her all day and before leaving:

He gave his card to a friend of Veronica's and scribbled "call me".

The shocking part is, Veronica thought it was the BETTER than asking a girl for her number. I believe her actual adjective to describe it was "cute".

I like it, in that it puts the ball in the girl's court and gives her time to think about it, rather than putting her on the spot. It gives her the opportunity to reject you (by simply not calling) rather than blatantly to your face or lying about being engaged or whatever clever lines they come up with.

However, I would guess that most girls will say something along the lines of, "Oh, he had to give his card to a friend to give to me? He couldn't just come up and ask me for my number? What a pussy."

He got off pretty damn easy... he not only didn't ask her for HER number, but left his... and didn't even give his card to her directly, but through a mutual FRIEND. My guess is that girls want a guy to have the balls to put his nuts on the train rail.

But I've been known to be wrong from time to time.

Condom Conundrum

How does your average, single guy prepare for a night out? I mean, like what if I wanted to "pack heat" for the night? e.g. a condom.

From what I remember from sex ed, you're not supposed to keep your condom in your wallet, right? So how do people prepare for the occasion? Do you just put it in your pocket before you go out and than re shelve it if nothing happens?

And what does the girl think if you actually DID bring one? Is she offended that you had the inclination to bring one because "it was a sure thing" or is she impressed that you planned ahead of time?

I know you're supposed to learn these little lessons before you are 24 years old, but I guess that's what happens when you've only dated 1 girl during the height of your dating age.