Laughing in the Face of Rejection

Rejection comes in many forms. Sometimes it’s dramatic and heartbreak-inducing, and other times it’s subtle and inconsequential. Either way, female instinct always gets the better of me and leads to overanalyze why things played out the way they did. Typically I’m able to take away some lesson from the situation, see it as an opportunity for self-improvement, and eventually I’m over it and it’s on to the next one.

One particular rejection has stood out from the rest. During fall quarter something unheard of happened, and I actually met an attractive guy in one of my science classes. At first I was wary, given the fact that he always talked to one guy who looked like he auditioned for Jersey Shore but was turned down for being too guido. However, I was willing to overlook the odd contrast between his J. Crew flannel and J. Shore’s wifebeaters and started strategically sitting close to him so we’d always end up partnered for group work.

By the time finals week rolled around we were undeniably flirting, but we’d never exchanged numbers and I was convinced that I was never going to see him again. However, I was soon proven wrong, as I went out to the bars to celebrate the end of finals with my roommate, only to run into him and J. Shore. Any doubts I’d previously had about his interest level disappeared once he started gushing abut how I was “so amazing” and that he couldn’t believe it had taken him so long to muster up the courage to talk to me. All very flattering, to say the least.

After the bar closed J. Crew ended up at my apartment and initiated with the kiss, which would’ve escalated into a makeout session if we hadn’t been interrupted by J. Shore reuniting with us. The three of us were just talking and hanging out, until J. Crew’s alcohol consumption got the better of him and he wound up puking in my bathroom. Eventually J. Crew emerged after finishing his business and literally ran out of my apartment, leaving his phone, wallet, etc for J. Shore to collect. The next morning I woke up to discover that J. Crew’s sweater had been left behind in all the madness. We met up briefly the next day so I could return it, and after making a bit of small talk he paused and said “So…could we just pretend that last night never happened? Because based on my memory of the night it really didn’t,” which I interpreted as a rude way to say that he regretted kissing me and it wasn’t going to happen again. Naturally, I was shocked when he texted me that night to ask if I wanted to go to a party with him and later tried to make New Year’s Eve plans with me.

Unfortunately neither of those plans worked, and we wound up having to wait until the start of the following quarter to hang out. When we did finally meet up, I went over to his apartment for tea and after hours of talking, it seemed like we had great chemistry. But rather than being a jumping point for something more, this turned out to be the pinnacle of our interaction. The next time we hung out him and his visiting cousin accompanied me to my friend’s party. It was absolutely packed with people I know when we arrived, so I was doing my best to introduce them both to people who came up to say hi, but to no avail. One thing to be said about J. Crew is that while he’s pretty chill, he’s also fairly introverted and pretty judgmental of people, and I got the feeling that he cared more about hanging out with his cousin than engaging anyone in conversation. At one point my drunk friend walked up and wordlessly grabbed my face, kissed me on the cheek, and left, and I was convinced that the evening may fare better if we left and went to the party J. Crew’s cousin suggested. I was wrong. It may have been a party at some point, but when we arrived it was nothing but a sad showing of five very sober people, and we received about as much welcome as a group of random guys trying to crash a frat party. After about fifteen minutes J. Crew’s cousin fell asleep on the couch and J. Crew suggested that him and I leave.

It didn’t seem right to leave his cousin to fend for himself, but I figured J. Crew knew best and at that our alone time could salvage the night. Wrong again- all of my advances were spurned. I tried to link arms with him but he remained completely stiff (not in the good way) and unresponsive. I asked if I could wear his jacket on the walk back and he did loan it to me, but only after making me feel as if that was one of the most high maintenance requests I could’ve made. The final straw came when he acted like walking me home was a huge nuisance. After what felt like one of the longest walks ever I returned his jacket, made a comment about not wanting to be an inconvenience, and went inside without even getting a peck goodbye. Ten minutes later he texted me, saying “Sorry to be such a disappointment. I just can’t help it sometimes,” to which I responded that I wasn’t sure what he wanted me to say, but that I wouldn’t have described him as a disappointment.

And that was it. I never heard from him again and later discovered that he went as far as deleting me as a Facebook friend. In hindsight this wasn’t a huge loss, but that doesn’t satisfy my curiosity about what killed his attraction and interest. I would love to hear any input as to what J. Crew’s deal was, perhaps an objective mind could solve this mystery.

Tags: boys, college dating, dating, make out, rejection, relationships

Another Chance to Get It Right

My Christmas present to all six of my readers out there…

In my previous (and hopefully last) post about Bro King I addressed the fact that the upcoming new year could be the perfect time to cut his drama out of my life and start fresh. The true question is…what exactly will this fresh start entail? One undeniable pro about Bro King is the fact that I’ve known him for over three years now, during which he’s experienced some of my more awkward moments and witnessed one or two of my shit show moments, but he still decided he liked me enough to hang around. Needless to say, at this point I feel completely comfortable around him. The idea of not only meeting a new guy, but also reaching that level of comfort while charming him and making a good impression so he maintains interest is more than a little daunting.

While I’m not going to bother with the stereotypical and vague New Year’s resolutions, I figure I may as well start incorporating some “guy”delines into my life for 2012 to help me through this transition…the first being to vow never to show this blog to anyone I may be interested in, lest he judge me for puns like that one. But seriously, here they are:

Start being confident in making eye contact with guys. This one should be a no-brainer. I’ve had my share of nights when charm and confidence have paved the way for flirty conversations, exchanged numbers, and even a date or two, but sometimes I forget all of this and act like I have less swag and dating experience than a spectacled sixth-grader, leading to the incorrect impression that I’m more interested in my shoes than whatever cute guy may be in my vicinity.

Limit dancing with new guys at bars and clubs. This one may seem counterintuitive to meeting new guys, especially because I love dancing. But sometimes I wonder what happened to the good old days when guys bought a girl a drink and engaged her with witty banter. Now pretty much all a girl can expect is a guy creeping up on the dance floor while she tries to figure out if that’s reeeally a cell phone in his pocket. Also, I have a tendency to get really into it on the dance floor, making guys more likely to try and make out with me and then backtrack with “So…what’s your name?”

On that note, no making out with guys within 24 hours of meeting them. No judgment to people who do, I definitely have before under the justification that it’s not a huge deal since I don’t let it get to the point of one night stands. But I’ve had my make out fun and it can’t be a coincidence that no guy has taken me on a legit date if our initial make out has fallen within that 24 hour window. Cold season is coming up, anyway.

And the most relevant to breaking things off with Bro King, as my recent failure to follow this rule pretty much undid all of the progress I’d been making: Don’t answer questionable guys’ texts while drunk. This does not only apply to the guys who your sober self has vowed not to hook up with even though your drunk self can’t seem to stay away. For instance, if you’re still in the initial stages when you’re trying to convince him that you’re the perfect combination of sexy/intelligent/mysterious/popular, it’s best to eliminate the risk of sending a text that makes you sound like you’re desperate and over-eager. Or like an alcoholic.

Cheers to all the resolutions that we will make and either stick to or inevitably break. I’d love to hear advice anyone may have on navigating the dating scene with style, or just about your most ambitious resolutions.

Tags: 2012, bars, boys, college dating, dating, New Year's Eve, resolutions, swag

When Guilty Pleasures Become Guiltier Realities.

Everyone has guilty pleasures…those things that you allow yourself to indulge in despite the fact that you know that they’re completely mindless, maybe even a little trashy. I’m talking about the Cosmo that you pull out to read on the plane under the justification “I never sit next to anyone worth talking to during flights anyway,” only to find realize that this is the first time you’re seated next to a cute college guy who wants to chat and is annoyingly intent on figuring out what you’re reading.

I’ve since then moved on from Cosmo (partially because my subscription ended), but I haven’t exactly eradicated guilty pleasures from my life, as proven by the fact that I ended last night by watching Sex in the City episodes. This show screams guilty pleasure- there are in-depth conversations about butt sex, every episode you’re surprised by a new over-the-top outfit Carrie is wearing, and most importantly, the characters are so dysfunctional that you can’t help but think that if these women can take their messed up lives and each find their own version of happiness, surely your life will be defined by your redeeming qualities and not by the string of undignified moments that you recap with your roommates while hungover on a Friday morning.

But maybe the justification and happy endings are a little too reassuring. Big marries Carrie even though he could’ve been [and was] with models half Carrie’s age. He overlooks the fact that Carrie not only had sex with him on the first date, but also continued to hook up with him while she was dating someone else. How likely is it that those events would have resulted in such a fairy tale ending in real life? In fact, this is the very thing I hate about romantic comedies. They always lead you to believe that no matter what, your ideal man will fall madly in love with you. It’s slightly more acceptable in Sex and the City because not only does the show have unbeatable entertainment value, but it actually portrays the characters as real people, without trying to justify everything in their life so the protagonist is still the good guy at the end of the day. I remember seeing the movie Something Brorrowed and being disgusted as I watched the plot proceed in a manner that was nothing but a cheesy justification. Plain girl is in love with hot guy and starts hooking up with him even though he’s engaged to her “best friend”…not only does he actually step up and dump his fiancé for her, but she’s NOT actually a bad person, because his fiancé was cheating on him the whole time anyway! Everyone wins.

Spoiler alert: life doesn’t always work out, not even when you’re in love and think you should really be with someone. While He’s Just Not That Into You most definitely falls into the romantic comedy category I still love it, partially because it sends the message that you can’t live your life like you’re the exception to the rule and things are going to work against all odds. Obviously easier said than done, given the fact that during some of the rockiest times with Bro King last year I was guilty of precisely the opposite. At this time I had one friend in particular who I confided in, and in turn she’d spill about how she was hooking up with this frat guy who was a total player, they’d never been on a real date, and one night a few months into their “relationship” he blacked out and hooked up with another girl in front of her. Imagine my surprise when a month later she told me that he’d asked her to be his girlfriend. Six months later and they’re still together, happier than ever. The same six months pass and Bro King and I have passed the initial stages of him trying to woo me and we’ve reached the level of the comfort that I’d expect from a relationship…but there’s still no actual relationship.

It’s time to limit my guilty pleasures to fiction, rather than continuing a stagnant version of the Carrie-Big saga. I’m typically not one for new year’s resolutions, as I don’t need a calendar change to prompt me to make progress in my life, but if 2012 happens to correspond with a final end to this back and forth relationship, I suppose the reinforcement from the timing can’t hurt…

Tags: boys, bro, bros, Carrie, casual dating, college hookups, Cosmo, dating, delusion, guilty pleasures, intimacy, Mr. Big, relationships, Sex and the City

Bro Code

Getting into clubs without paying cover. Having a barrage of accessories, etc. to improve my attractiveness. Not feeling pressure about performance in the bedroom. After 21 years of dealing with the burdens associated with having two x chromosomes these are some of the things that have made my gender easier to embrace. But every once in a while I still wish I could reap some of those y chromosome benefits. How nice would it be if no one ever judged me for thinking it’s fun to shotgun beers? If people ACTUALLY considered my personality when deciding if I was worthy of dating? Most importantly: if I got to reap the benefits of the infamous bro code??

Clearly, this is not going to be my reality any time soon, but I figured rekindling things with Bro King this quarter meant I’d at least get some insight into what this Code entailed, especially when I got enlisted to help play wingman one night. Duties for that night started out as a fun little challenge to get one of the new fraternity pledges laid. Unfortunately, even my natural charm and willingness to strike up a conversation with a complete stranger couldn’t compensate for the empty silences that resulted whenever we’d leave the conversation to him…and the fact that her friend was a DUFF and I wasn’t about to go lesbian to distract her didn’t help. Later in the night though, we entered the big leagues. This time Bro King was actually pretty invested in this one, as the beneficiary was his roommate who’d just been cheated on by his (now ex) girlfriend. He was definitely more of a pro at picking up girls than the pledge from before, only five minutes into the party and he was talking to a girl, ten minutes after that and they were making out.

I figured he was set, but since I’ve never had to execute game to get someone to come back to my apartment I’ve also never thought about the game involved in escalating beyond making out. Rather than going through all of the excruciating details, I’ll cut to the chase and say that although Bro King and I stayed out with him until 4 am subtly trying to get her back to the house so he could seal the deal, he ultimately failed. Let’s all take some time to learn something from his mistakes:

Don’t be passive! Just because she kissed you doesn’t mean she’s dying to go back to your bro pad. Asking questions like “So…what do you want to do now, think you want to hang out some more or…?” isn’t going to cut it. Take charge, grab her hand, and start heading back to your place.

It’s probably better not to talk about plans to see her in the future before the night is over…especially when the girl you’re after is questionably sleeping in her car for the weekend and has explicitly mentioned that she doesn’t know when she’ll be back to LA.

Lastly, it always helps if you have drinks to offer at your place. Otherwise, girls have little incentive to hang out in your room unless they already know you.

This last one really shouldn’t be underestimated, as I learned for myself less than a week later when I ended up at Bro King’s house with a friend after a night of party hopping. It was a fairly random occurrence, our decision to go there was more of a last resort after all the other parties we’d been to had gotten shut down. So it was a bit awkward when his ex-roommate let us into the house and immediately asked me if I was there to see Bro King, to which my honest answer had to be no. We were about to leave shortly after arriving, but as we were walking by his room we got a glimpse inside and saw a full bottle of Skyy sitting on his table, like a glorious alcoholic centerpiece. He must have seen me us eyeing it because as he started to close the door he casually asked “You guys wouldn’t want to drink…would you?”

Well played, sir. I was particularly susceptible to the alcohol trap given the fact that our night had been a bust so far, leading me to enthusiastically reply “Sure, why not?” Honestly, he’s a really chill guy. Every time we’d talked previously we got along really well, even though the first time I met him I was alone in his room after locking him out for two hours because I’d been making out with his then-roommate (yes, Bro King). But to further put things into perspective it wasn’t like we were BFFs and knew each other really well, we’d only hung out TWO times before this particular night aaand he had to ask me to remind him what my name was before we started drinking. So when he put his hand on my thigh later in the night and told me that he’d “always liked me,” I was rightfully skeptical. I was fairly wasted at this point because of the continuous drinks he’d been pouring me, and while my instinct to turn him down was still present and on point, the tact I’d usually exhibit was not. Oh, is it not ladylike and considerate to go on and on about the fact that I won’t hook up with you because I’m like, sooo into your friend? Whoops…

Overall, the events of that week left me confused rather than enlightened. Does bro code mean that one bro will stay up until 4 am trying to play wingman for another, but if you can manage to get the girl your bro is talking to drunk while she’s in your room she’s fair game? Maybe the only way to truly learn the finer points of this is to start watching more How I Met Your Mother.

Tags: alcohol, Barney Stinson, bro code, bros, drinking, frat, hookup, wingman

Lessons to Be Learned from 9/11/01

Yesterday was not the day for an epiphany. Yesterday was the day to stay holed up inside so that I could finish a paper that I’ve been procrastinating on for a month while passively watching History Channel specials documenting the World Trade Center Attacks of ten years ago. Essentially, the only deep thinking I anticipated was on how exactly it was possible to turn bullfighting into ten pages of literary genius.

As I watched account after account of survivors and their loved ones, as well as the not-so-fortunate friends and family members of victims claimed that day, my heart went out to them. I can’t even imagine how much courage it took for those people to face their fears and fight against the odds in order to escape. It would have been so much easier to sit and wait, to listen to the advice that help is on the way and there’s nothing to worry about. In the end it all boiled down to whether they believed that everything would “just work out” for them or whether they were willing to acknowledge the much scarier truth- that just maybe things won’t work out the way you expect them to. Maybe you have to take things into your own hands to ensure that you get the result that you want.

Sometimes the harsh reality doesn’t always come in the form of a national tragedy. After you live your life with a certain amount of happiness and success, you start to get the feeling that certain things will never happen to you, that you’re immune to certain unfavorable life outcomes. Admittedly, I’ve been guilty of this mindset for the past few years, and just a week ago I got a slap in the face that taught me otherwise. While I’m still grasping this and finding a way to deal with the repercussions, I’ve at least learned that I’m not as special as I initially thought. It’s important to remember that immunity from the undesirable isn’t guaranteed just because you’re a good person. The only way to guarantee the outcome you want for your life is to stay on your toes, follow your better judgment, and figure out what needs to be done to make things work for yourself.

Tags: 2001, 9/11, America, epiphany, judgment, life choices, September 11, wisdom, World Trade Center

On the Death of Logic and the Resurrection of Old Habits

My final true summer has honestly flown by. I officially only have a week left in San Diego before I have to move back up to my apartment and two weeks before I begin my tedious, sleep-depriving class schedule, yet I’m in serious denial about it all. Back when advancing a year in school was cause for excitement and not just a slap in the face about impending responsibility, the upcoming school year became tangible once I took that trip to the mall for the ever important back-to-school wardrobe. This year, reality about the year ahead didn’t set in until I got a text from Bro King asking if I was back in Westwood already.

I didn’t think it could get more pathetic than agonizing over how a few new outfits could have the potential to impact your school year but I was wrong, because allowing a guy to have the same impact definitely is. This is the guy who, embarrassingly enough, I’ve cried over on more than one occasion. The guy who used his fucked relationships with his last two exes as an excuse for not wanting to have a girlfriend. The guy whose number I forced myself to delete on two occasions. The guy I tried to get over by rekindling last summer’s “romance.” [Fail. Obviously.] The guy my friends are sick of hearing me talk about and who elicits comments like “You don’t deserve all of the stress this is causing you,” “You’re too attractive for him anyway,” etc.

I could go on and on. Yet in spite of all these things I still felt an irrational level of excitement when I saw his name pop up on my phone. Well, at least until I realized that it was almost two in the morning, making it 99 percent likely that this was a booty call. Anyway, despite my acknowledgment of the fact that my stress, priorities, and level of self-respect would all improve if I refused to continue things another year, I foresee some difficulties with calling it quits. It’s not like I’m incapable of overcoming this initial challenge and making this “right” decision. But the idea of taking the high road and walking away with this self-respect doesn’t seem quite as appealing when I realize it would mean actively choosing to be alone.

Again, this is pathetic. I’m an extremely independent person [benefit of being an only child], and don’t take bullshit from guys. But even though this is the guy who’s caused me more angst than Ethan Craft caused Lizzie McGuire, he was also the first friend I made at college and my best guy friend for two years while I was there [the third year didn't count, once you've seen a guy naked there's an unspoken rule that you can no longer ask him for advice about other guys. Go figure.] The guy who’s taken me on some of the cutest dates, including going to see HP7 even though he’s not a huge fan and knew I’d seen it just two days before. The guy who is always honest with me and with whom I can have conversations that are simultaneously blunt, serious, and entertaining. I could continue, but I don’t want to make myself vomit, especially with my laptop currently in splash range. The point is, I really fucking like him [Funny how much that sentence changes if I switch just two words around]. I’d never support settling for some guy who you have to justify choosing by reminding yourself how “nice” he is just so you’re not alone. But when you’re clearly sprung on a guy and legitimately enjoy his company every time you’re together, is it really better to eradicate all of the excitement from your life, any inkling of romance in favor of “winning?”

Last week, my mom made me watch the movie Parenthood with her, I suspect in hopes of convincing me that having children one day in the future won’t actually be the end of life as I know it. Obviously since she forced me I was initially reluctant, but I actually enjoyed it, and I’ll never forget this quote from the Grandma in the movie:

“You know, when I was nineteen, Grandpa took me on a roller coaster…up, down, up, down. Oh, what a ride! I always wanted to go again. You know, it was just so interesting to me that a ride could make me so frightened, so scared, so sick, so excited, and so thrilled all together! Some didn’t like it. They went on the merry-go-round. That just goes around. Nothing. I like the roller coaster. You get more out of it.”

What exactly I’ll get out of this remains to be seen. Regardless, instinct tells me I’m going to get in line for this roller coaster at least one more time.

Tags: back-to-school, booty call, bro, casual dating, college, college dating, dating, Lizzie McGuire, Parenthood, relationships, summer, Westwood

The 21 Club

There really is nothing better than celebrating a birthday, especially when it represents a major milestone in my life. You know, like finally being able to drive yourself places, finally being able to buy porn becoming a legal adult, and the ultimate, turning 21 so I can finally have that first taste of alcohol.

Oh, was that last one not believable? Amazingly, I do know one or two people who stuck to this, and underwent a legitimate rite of passage on the night they turned 21. But these outliers are irrelevant. Rather, I wish to address the drunk, underage elephant in the bar, which is the fact that the vast majority of people who eventually choose to drink do so prior to this arbitrary legal age. It’s far from a secret, yet the law is continually upheld. I use this term loosely, as I certainly didn’t choose to play a role in upholding it personally. A sign on the freeway that’s unaccompanied by a lurking cop isn’t going to stop me from going over 65, and a law that was written before I was born isn’t going to keep me from drinking in the privacy of a house.

So why do I give a shit? My complaint stems from the fact that this law IS going to keep me from drinking in public. This wouldn’t even be an issue, but literally all of the friends who I hang out with regularly have left me behind to join the 21 club. Meaning that during what is most likely my last true summer vacation, I have to miss out on all of the drunken bonding and shenanigans that everyone else is partaking in, because they’re all tired of sneaking around and waiting until someone’s parents go out of town for us to drink. [Never mind the fact that we’re all too cheap and lazy fond of our families to live independently of parents while we’re home for the summer.]

What adds insult to injury is the fact that I’ve done the whole 21+ scene before. I’ve taken the risk and successfully snuck into bars, and I even got lucky enough to get in places with someone else’s expired ID. But the biggest slap in the face is that I was just in Europe, with the liberty to get absolutely shit-faced not only in public, but in clubs that would put Vegas to shame. I could bitch about this for the remainder of the summer, but I’d rather look at the positive side. Just to reassure myself that I’m not missing out on much, I’ve compiled a list of all the reasons why the nightlife in Europe shits on whatever places my “friends” have been ditching me for this summer.

The most obvious- you don’t have to be 21 to get into clubs.

You don’t have to worry about randoms coming up from behind to rub their crotch on you. At least when guys approach you straight on you can tell exactly how much of a creeper you’re dealing with.

Absinthe is actually legal. Never mind the fact that your throat feels like it’s on fire for ten minutes after just one shot, it’s not like anyone’s drinking it for the taste anyway.

The nice clubs aren’t overrun with old men. A nice contrast to America, where the legit clubs are likely to be full of guys almost twice my age while the guys who have yet to go through their midlife crisis are stuck in dive bars.

The electro scene is unbeatable, since pretty much all the best DJs hail from Europe.

Europeans rage hard. There’s nothing klassier than being able to party until the sun comes up.

Considering how excited I’d been to return home after studying abroad, I’m fairly disappointed. For a country to be satisfied with raising young adults who are behind everyone else in the art of legal drinking AND to be unable to boast the best nightlife? No wonder people complain that America is falling behind.

Tags: 21, alcohol, bars, clubbing, college, drinking, Europe, fun, klassy, nightlife, underage, Vegas