Why Budget Car Rental is like a man

•April 27, 2010 • 4 Comments

This past weekend, I took a long overdue trip to see a fabulous friend.  Having survived a hellacious break-up and many snowed-in days spent mulled up in my apartment, I was overdue for a weekend of boozing and schmoozing with hot men.

But Budget car rental put a damper on my weekendation.  Perhaps the people at Budget are getting back at all those customers who broke up with them and took their business to Enterprise, but instead of slashing their ex’s tires, they just charge new, unsuspecting customers a five hundred-dollar hold on their debit card if they so choose to date…ahem, rent a car.

Now if I was rich, this probably wouldn’t be a problem.  But I’m not and thanks to those Budget bastards, I was really “in the hole” when it came to cash.  I guess the red flag should’ve been the company’s name: Budget.  It’s like a guy who says, “I’m not an ass hole,” – a fucking lie.

Thankfully, I drove the shit out of the car, landed in Charleston in one piece, and drank my face off, thanks to my amazing friend and her credit card.  But not to worry – I was still coherent enough to turn away the two undergraduate “boys” who hit on me.  Plus one creepy old guy. 

Like every d-bag I encounter, Budget will not be given a second chance.  Life is too short to waste time and money I don’t have, just to end up getting screwed.  And I’ll be back to Charleston – in the summer, when all the frat boys are hibernating somewhere expensive with their popped collars and plaid shorts.

Television: The New Four-play

•April 22, 2010 • 2 Comments

There’s nothing I love more than cuddling on the couch with my man after a long day of work.  In fact, this is something I often looked forward to and I would eagerly send my boyfriend text messages reminding him that, “New episode of Real Housewives on tonight!!” To which he’d respond, “Bethany is a raging bitch…I can’t wait!”

You know you’re in love when you’ve found a man who isn’t ashamed to admit his love for idiotic reality shows.  But although it’s nice, being able to view Duff’s latest cake creation on Ace of Cakes while your dude makes snarky comments about how “that shit is not edible,” at what point does T.V. replace those butterflies in your stomach?  Is T.V. the new four-play?  Or is it just something couples do after the newness wears off?

Admittingly, I’m not a big T.V. watcher – but my ex was, and thus, my shows became our shows and vice-versa.  He even joined Netflix so we could watch all seven seasons of Entourage quicker, each receiving the next disc in the series.  Clever, huh?! 

However, nowadays, as I sit alone on my sofa eating a fudgesicle, the closest thing to a dick I’ve seen in months, I flip through the T.V. channels in disgust.  Ugh…Hoarders…we used to make fun of all those crazy pack-rats.  Curb your Enthusiasm…Larry David is one funny bastard…remember that episode with Wendy Wheelchair?  Oh shit, I’m talking to my pillow because I’m alone.  Nevermind.

Although I watch far less television now, I realize that essentially, T.V. did take away quite a bit of bonding time my ex and I could have had.  Yes, laughing at ridiculous millionaires on Millionaire Matchmaker was fun, but other than a talking point at dinner, what did it accomplish in moving the relationship forward? 

Nothing. 

In future relationships, while I am still looking for a man who will tolerate an episode of Glee every once in awhile, I refuse to let the T.V. replace any type of four-play.  Until then, I’ll continue avoiding certain shows, and instead, entertain myself with trash that I thoroughly enjoy: Fly Girls, anyone?!

You get what you don’t pay for

•April 20, 2010 • 2 Comments

Most of us singles have tried online dating.  We’ve stalked thousands of Match.com profiles and paid the $40 a month fee to do so.  Or, we’ve created something like ten different profiles with different e-mail addresses just so we could get the FREE three-day trial.  Perhaps we’ve met a few awesome people along the way, but mostly, our “winks” don’t go beyond that awkward e-mailing stage, in which we either decide that we’ll let that hottie buy us a drink, or that those profile pictures look waaaaay too free of flaws to not be airbrushed.

If you’re like me, the thought of shelling out any more hard-earned cash to a dating site that promises they’ll find your life partner (or you’re money back), is beyond frustrating.  Aside from loving any extra money I have to spend on luxeries booze, I also value my time.  And I’d rather not waste a perfectly good Saturday night filtering through profiles of men, some of whom have been on the site for years with the same profile picture.

So, I was a tad bit excited when a buddy of mine told me about a FREE dating site.  You may have heard of it – OkCupid.  Since I was quite nosy and especially lonely one Saturday afternoon, I decided to put my shit out there.  Of course, I also wanted to see what kind of guys were on the site…poor guys? Ugly guys?  Sketchy guys?  Hmmmm, couldn’t be any worse than a Match.com dude, right?!

Honestly, the selection wasn’t half bad.  One strapping young man even sent me a rather witty correspondance.  We spent the entire afternoon e-mailing and then he vanished.  Guess the ass hollish men aren’t just limited to the paying sites.

Eventually, I realized I didn’t have the patience or the right mindset to be on a dating site.  Moreover, I feared that all my sifting through profiles would eventually lead me to something the gals at my daily read, Shmitten Kitten, discuss – my ex’s profile, complete with a cropped photo of him at Thanksgiving dinner, that phantom hand around his waist, mine.

Perhaps I shouldn’t expect much from a free dating site.  But  at least it gives me something other than Facebook to stalk.

Four words I’ve never heard

•April 18, 2010 • 9 Comments

When a gal is of a certain age, say late twenties/early thirties, and she’s single, beautiful, successful and possibly perfect, people usually think that she’s has no trouble meeting men.  Due to cheesy romantic comedies, some might go even as far as presuming that she’s turned down a few proposals.  Those four little words, Will you marry me? have probably been thrown at her by sensible guys, but none of them were the one.   “She’ll find her knight-in-shining armor,” friends think – she’s too amazing not to.

Let’s back this fairytale up a bit.  Here I am, on the crux of turning 30, and not one single man has ever asked me to marry him.  Hell, drunk men haven’t even slurred this phrase to me.  So why do the media, and perhaps even those bitches in real life, act like many single women who have their shit together, are single by choice, thus giving off the sentiment that men throw themselves at us, just not the one?!

I don’t know what world these “been proposed to x number of times” women are living in.  Or what kind of men they are dating?  Seriously, where are these marrying-type guys?  But I do know that just because no man has ever officially asked to make me his wifey, doesn’t mean I’m diseased or even insane.

Actually, both of the men in my past two serious relationships told me they “Want to marry me.”  But then a few months passed and apparently, they changed their minds. 

At first I thought this was something I could control.  But I am not about forcing someone to be with me, especially since “forever” is a long ass time.  Truth be told, although these guys wanted to marry me in theory, they never put it into action.  And that’s probably for the best in the long run.

So maybe one day some man will get on his knees, and instead of trying to undo my pants, will pull out a box filled with bling.  A girl can hope!

Proof that public transportation was designed by a man

•April 15, 2010 • 3 Comments

We all know that bus route that only comes twice an hour, but never at its scheduled time.  Even though we look on the city’s sub-par public transportation website to confirm the arrival of a bus, we’re still left standing with a group of shady strangers at a bus stop, most of whom are conversing at obscene decibles on their cell phone about their baby-daddy drama. 

Of course, this is also the instance when we need to be someplace on time.  Like work.  Or a meeting.  Or a first date with a guy whose profile picture looks a lot like Jake Gyllenhaal.  And the bus is LATE.  And we’re annoyed.

And then there are those times when we’re not in a hurry.  On these occasions, there are always an abundance of buses, trains and trolleys.  Cabbies even honk at you. 

Okay, so creepy cabbies always try to pick you up.  You’re used to it.

Anyways…it seems as if public transportation was certainly designed by a man.  Think about it – the men you don’t want to date seem to be the most interested.  Those you spend hours-on-end fantasizing about are not calling you.  When you’re waiting for the bus you want, it never comes while all the routes you don’t want whiz on past you.

I guess that cliché, “When it rains, it pours” is somewhat true.  But in my case, it’s raining douschebags. 

Today I received a random text from a man, who two weeks ago, I clearly told I did not want to date.  I could already see that I would not be a priority in his life, and to me, that’s a dealbreaker.  Yet clearly, he is compelled to date me.  His text, “What’s up, Citygal?” was innocent enough, but in my opinion, came across as desperate. 

Perhaps women aren’t the only beings who have a hard time letting someone go, even when they’ve made it clear that they don’t want to be with you.  But why do we dwell on these relationships that will never exist, even if they maybe once did?

Sure, some people might categorize this man as a go-getter – he’s determined to go after what he wants.  While determination is an endearing quality, at what point does it comes across as desperation? 

At any rate, I won’t be texting him back.  Silence is my weapon of choice in this case.  But the bus?  Yeah, I’ll still be waiting on that bastard.

Will travel cross-country for booty

•April 13, 2010 • 3 Comments

Once again, Facebook has surprised me – only this time, it’s not in the “OMG-I-can’t-believe-he-detagged-me-from-that-photo!” sort of surprise that makes you want to hurl/yell profanities at your ex by way of his profile picture. 

Oh no.  This type of surprise is electric and makes you want to belt out an old Mariah Carey song while watching yourself dance in your bedroom mirror.

First, you will need some background on the situation:  In January of 2009, a mutual friend and I were chatting on FB.  She casually mentioned that her cousin (whom I’d met on Thanksgiving in 2004) was single.  He friended me.  We e-mailed and texted for about three weeks.  He lived in Florida, and we half-jokingly talked about him flying up to the Northeast to see me.  Then, he seemed to drop off the face of the Earth.  I started dating someone and so did he. End of story. 

Until this past weekend…

As I was resisting the urge to log onto Facebook, I finally couldn’t control myself any more and I signed in.  Right there in that damn news feed, that is perhaps more annoying than a Jennifer Lopez movie, was his profile picture.  It had been updated.  He looked gooooood.  I clicked on his profile to see the hotness up close.  Then, I went about my regular stalking.

And this is when he chatted me.  I obliged.  He told me how he now lives in L.A. and asked when I was coming to see him.  Here we go again…

Now, being that I really have no man prospects, I was flattered by his seemingly abrupt interest in me…again.  So naturally, I sent him a witty text that night after I had downed a few beers.  He responded.  Out of sheer intoxication, I replied and awaited a response that never came.

Until yesterday.  Naturally, I was at a Monday night happy hour and already three beers deep.  Read: I was not about being shy.  So, I after a few flirtatious texts, I popped the question: “So, how about I come visit Memorial Day weekend?”

He was being coy, asking if that was the earliest I could come.  No, it wasn’t, but I didn’t want to seem too desperate.  But I really was/am.  And I need to get laid.  By him.

The texting continued and nothing was really accomplished.  As my buzz wore off and turned into sleepiness, I kind of got the feeling that perhaps this “imaginary” cross-country booty call was just new material for his mid-day jerk-off sessions.

I finally told him to let me know what weekend works for him, to which he responded, “That’s a lot of pressure.”  I said it wasn’t and he ended the conversation with “We’ll figure something out.” 

Seriously, dude.  A hot, sexy bitch (myself) is willing to purchase airfare, fly across the country, and have sex with you (at least once…I mean, I don’t really know what kind of package I’m getting myself into, right?!) 

What is his problem????

Truth be told, if he lived closer, we would definitely date.  Or at least be BFF’s.  We have a very similar sense of humor and are both outgoing.  And, we like the finer things in life: booze. 

In any case, I’m okay with being his rebound/hot friend his guy pals are jealous of for a weekend/wifey.

Joking about that last one.  Kind of. 

I have needs and I needs to be in L.A. soaking up the sun, sights, and a hot distraction of a man.  Perhaps there will be new development in the next few days.  At least it’s something fun to think about when I’m home alone on my couch watching a Real Housewives marathon…

It’s dinner, not a date

•April 10, 2010 • 4 Comments

Last night, as I waited for my non-date to arrive at the bar, an older man (I’m talking like 60’s) bought me a beer.  In my mind, I was thinking “I should go on more non-dates!”  As I shot the shit with old guy, my male friend finally showed up and alas, our non-date began.

My Alagash White was slipping down my throat like water.  And when I start feeling tipsy, I talk.  A lot.  As non-date and I were conversing, I learned that I had earned the nickname “pukes-in-sink” from our last “date” back in January.  Apparently, the story I told about how I barfed in a dude’s sink, then proceeded to make-out with him, kinda let my non-date know that I just wanted to keep him in the “friends” category. 

We laughed about how awkward our first date had been, and I admitted that I am bitter and a tad angry towards men.  I even told him a little about my ex and was intrigued and delighted by the insight he gave me.  I mean, he is a dude, he should know why men do the things they do, right?!

I began to think my non-date and I could really be friends.  Having single guy friends is awesome, because while they’re not boyfriend material, they kind of fill that boyfriend void.  Plus, they buy us lots of drinks!

As I visualized our soon-to-be friendship, my non-date shocked me by saying, “I want to take you on a date.” 

Um…no.  Apparently, our non-date made him realize that he actually might want to date me.  I told him that I do not want to date.  Anyone.  He would not accept “No” as an answer.  I played it off jokingly, telling him I was busy for the next three weeks.  (which is true).  I also said if we did go out again, it would be as friends.  If it involved food, we would call it “dinner, not a date.”

The thing is, although I am not very into the dating scene right now, this is not a guy I would want to date.  His mannerisms are just too feminine for me, some of them.  And I really don’t think I could get past that.  So I will continue to be firm and he will stay in that “friend” category. 

Now, are there any men worth dating out there?! Sigh.