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.

Unforeseen Consequences

My best friend and old roommate Leo, doesn't like to guest post often. I'll ask him on occasion to write something for me when I suffer some serious writer's blog (see what I did there?). Most of the time, he'll graciously decline, saying that the blog is my palate in which to paint my own story and thoughts on dating.

But he's been known to come out of the wood works to give his two cents every now and then.

It wasn't a huge surprise when he had asked me if he could write his thoughts on some recent events.

How could I resist such an offer? Especially since so many readers have asked for it as of late.

So let's get right to it.

Enjoy!
So@24

* * *

Hello my darlings.

So has been in recovery since the events of last weekend, so I'm taking a moment away from dabbing his pallid brow with a damp cloth to post a little something. Dear boy hates to neglect his readers.

As we all know, So recently ended what can only be described as an absolutely titanic dry spell. For context, the last time he had sex, Anna Nicole Smith was alive, no one had heard of a dude named Barack, and our solar system had an extra planet. Yep. You can literally measure his abstinence on a cosmic scale.

And as we all know, this all came to a rapturous end (cue glorious choral music, montage of time-lapse rose blooming, rocket blasting off, train going into tunnel, Old Faithful, fireworks). Jack and I rejoiced. We had coaxed and coached for, well, years. And now we relished the catharsis.

So@24: Should I really be sharing details with you guys?
Jack: I puked in a bag for you. And Leo kissed a dude. You owe us.
So@24: So I had sex this weekend. A lot.
Leo: -wipes single tear of joy-
Jack: like it's the end of Return of the Jedi and So is Luke all partying with Ewoks and whatnot, and you and I are like the ghosts of Obi Won and Yoda that appear beside the campfire nodding approvingly.
So@24: HAHAHAHHAHHAHAHAHA
Leo: -sigh-
Jack: -wistful sigh-
So: I can't believe after all this time, I can finally join you guys in locker room banter. It's like I've been back into the Forbidden City. I'm like that kid who finally got his Super Nintendo after all the kids in the neighborhood have had it for years.
Jack: Well ours are broken apparently, so looks like we'll be playing at your house.

[Beat]

Leo: I need to have sex.
Jack: Seconded.



We were happy. But this victory was to be bittersweet, and Jack and I were its foreshadowing. You see, So has not yet grasped the consequences of his actions. As the dude who invented those fig cookies wrote, for every action there is a reaction. For every Yin there exists a Yang. Where there is light, so must there be shadow. And oh, what a beastly shadow it is. It's name?

No Sex.

We've all been there. You're coasting along, enjoying healthy sexual endeavors, then one day they cease... and a terrible terrible fiend fills the void. It strikes in the loins and lingers, slowly eating away at your standards, judgment, and resolve. Left untreated, it only grows, consuming your thoughts and making you send inadvisable texts. And sex? Sex is merely a temporary treatment... Beastie will lurk, dormant, until it's time to rise again.

It's a burden that comes with the blessing. So had the blessing. But in resetting his coital switch, he's awoken this succubus once more.


And mark my words... one night a week or two from now, he'll be tossing and turning in bed, trying to figure out the source of his restlessness. Suddenly he'll realize it. His eyes will snap open and he'll whisper the tragic truth...

"I need to have sex."

Unfortunately there's nothing we can do for him. He and his lovely share a geographic disparity that makes regular boinking impossible. And so I welcome him into the ranks of The Infected*.

Godspeed, my friend. It's going to be a bitch.








*If you get the L4D ref, you're rad. Also, a nerd.
**If you got the title's HL2 ref, you're really rad. Also, a nerd to the point of it being kind of sad.

Welcome Back.

Clouds parted.

The sun cut through the thin layer of dust on my bedroom window panes.

I leaped from my bed, threw open the shutters.

Two little bluebirds fluttered in and I sang a very cliche' Disney-esque song as I raised my arms as they put a robe on me.

Also, a unicorn served me breakfast.

Yes.

I had sex.

I'm going to say that again for all the skimmers and also because it bears repeating.

I had sex.

Let me backtrack a bit and explain how this came to be.

* * *

A quote from my best friend Leo is an appropriate way to start things off:

Leo: Where do people meet people? Everyone is in a fucking relationship... I'd like to see the sociological stats/bar graph on where people meet. At least for our age.

I complain about this constantly. It's really fucking hard to meet people, especially if there aren't any prospects at the job and you don't have any help from your friends trying to set you up.

Despite popular belief, I didn't create this blog to meet girls. But as time went on, well... it was almost inevitable. I mean, there are some pretty brilliant fucking people in the blogosphere and a girl that is witty in writing is going to get an eyebrow raise. They just kind of happen.

How Bloggy Romance Works:
A Universal (and fucking toolish) Flow Chart

Read blogs > Comment exchanges > Emails > Gchats > Social Networking Access (to judge/stalk photos) > Phone number exchange > Phone calls > Meet up

That is how I met Beth.

Beth, unfortunately, shares the same name as another alias I had in my past. But, well, what can I do? It has been written.

* * *

After the natural progression of things, Beth booked a ticket to fly out to stay with me for a weekend. Shit like this doesn't scare me or intimidate me; a girl who is willing to take a leap with you and do something so incredibly insane/spontaneous is a good sign in my book. It means she's just as into you as you are of her.

I was incredibly nervous. Not to meet Beth. There wasn't any surprises from my end; she's just as funny, cute, and smart as I thought she would be. But my real fear was the anticipation of having a girl stay over at my place for an entire weekend.

Shit I Had Forgotten About But That Make Up "The Good Stuff"

• Walking out of the shower to find a girl laying on top of your bed in a messy ponytail, wearing your t-shirt and in her undies checking her email from a laptop
• Seeing multi-colored bottles of shampoo/body wash in your shower
• Girl smell lingering on your pathetic pillows
• Grocery shopping with a girl on your arm
• Have a girl legitimately laugh at all your shitty attempts as jokes

And I don't mean to always "wax nostalgia" about my ex girlfriend Lynn all the time, but it's really the only thing I can compare things too.

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't knocked back a few times during the weekend when things like what I just listed above didn't bitch slap me. Weird flash backs of snapshot-polaroid-esque memories I had of Lynn. Like someone reeling back and smacking a fire extinguisher across my dome.

It's embarrassing to admit, but if I'm going to be honest here... it happens. The main reason being: I thought that I'd never be able to have these experiences (see: bullet points above) with someone else.

It's nice to know that it actually is possible, because it's a very real fear (during that period of your life) to think that it can't ever happen again. I have the weekend to prove it. So... to all the So@24s circa 2007... take note.


I had some encouragement from my friends along the way:

Maxie's chart:



And, of course, what would a landmark So@24 post be without a great 3-way gchat convo between Leo, Jack and myself? Look at how much respect I get from these guys:

Leo: I can't even imagine you having sex. I'm actually trying, bizarrely enough. It just comes out wrong.
Leo: Like an Escher illustration. Looks okay, but something's definitely going on that isn't quite right.
Jack: I tried and it was like a confusing cartoon. But with old Batman sound effects.
Leo: And the occasional clown horn.

A Cinderella Story (with booze)

A couple weeks ago, Leo and I were discussing what we were going to do to celebrate my turning twenty six. Naturally, I had assumed that he would fly into Los Angeles and we'd spend the weekend hitting up our old haunts.

Leo: Hey, here's a nutty idea... what if we went to San Francisco?
So@24: Well then. That is a nutty idea. Fuck it, let's do it.

So that was it. We were heading to San Francisco. Leo and I emailed a few other friends and everyone hopped on that party train (unfortunately, Jack couldn't make it. He said it was work but I'll put my money on he still recovering from Santa Barbara).

I was looking forward to a weekend away from Los Angeles and reuniting with old friends. And of course, there was the possibility of hanging out with Bree again. Since our first encounter, I wasn't sure when I'd see her next.

Over the next week, the boys and I started finalizing San Francisco plans -- dinners, bars, bbqs, Frisbee golf, more bars... you know, a packed weekend. When I told Bree I'd be in town , she seemed enthusiastic. Unfortunately, she could only come out for Friday night, she would be out of town the rest of the weekend. My timing wasn't the greatest; figures.

Within an hour of landing in San Francisco, I was well on my way to checking off "throwing back lots of booze with old friends" on my list of things to do. I was texting back and forth with Bree, trying to find a location to join both her group and mine.

It was already close to 10:00pm at this point (you know what it's like to mobilize troops) and I was getting more worried that my time with Bree was going to be extremely truncated. Also, as it came closer to catch a cab, my nerves grew and in turn, so did the shots of scotch. Leo would have probably stepped in to make sure I wasn't getting too drunk, but this was his vacation too. No rest for the wicked.

The group piled into cabs and we were dropped off at a bar that was located in a side alley of San Francisco; pretty cool. There was a good crowd forming and the jukebox was pumping out the hits. I stood in a circle with my friends, but I admittedly was torn between conversation and looking over their shoulders at the doorway, keeping an eye out for Bree. Leo gave me a pat on the shoulder and we took a tequila shot.

I went to the bar to order a round for the boys and when I turned, Bree was standing right behind me. She flashed her signature dimpled smile and I, in turn, grinned like a fucking goon. I quickly introduced her to all of my friends, but noticed that none of her friends made it out. Bree had come to meet up with us solo. Ballsy.

After introductions were made, I pulled her to the bar so I could order her a drink. I think she did her fair share of prefunking as well and we were both tossed at that point. While we were waiting for the bartender to catch our attention, she gave me that headtilt that girls do that I absolutely love.

You know what I'm talking about? It's just a slight tilt of the head and a coy smile. That shit can stop a man in dead in his tracks, I swear to God.

It was then I went in for a kiss and it was reciprocated. No nerves, no second guessing. I didn't overthink it. And it was good.

I've written before how I hate when a guy and a girl kiss in public settings. It grosses me out. But I was 100% fucking guilty of this on Friday night. However, if I have any room to make a plea to the court, it wasn't that disgusting, humping on the dance floor kiss you see all the time. I'm talking like the "hold her face with two hands, put her hair behind her ears" kind of kiss. The good shit. The kind that's so goddamn sweet, those who were fortunate enough to catch a glimpse of it might now have diabetes.

Again, I'm not usually the type to do these acts in public arenas, but I remember thinking to myself, "I just don't care." I didn't know when I'd get the chance to do this again and my time with Bree was limited. I was fine with being "that guy".

I stuffed a couple of wrinkled bills in the jukebox, we both decided that MJ's "The Way You Make Me Feel" was the best song to play at that point (that's a fucking winner, ladies & gentlemen), and we danced.

After seemed like only a few minutes, Bree said that she needed to head home. I walked her to a cab and offered to see that she made it back safely. She insisted I stay so I closed the door, wished her a safe trip and wave "goodbye".

And with that, she was gone. Like fucking Cinderella and that cab was the fucking pumpkin carriage.

All in all, it was a great weekend. Had a great time hanging out with Leo and the rest of the guys, and it was a welcome escape from the tedium of LA. And seeing Bree was nice. All too brief, but such is life.

Sadomasochistic Teakettles

Jack: What did everyone get into this weekend? I've got time for some fucked up stories.
Leo: Which I'm thinking have merit, considering her requests for some, uh, violent... physicalness... in bed.
Jack: Crazy? Violent? Tell me more.
Leo: She wanted to be hit.
Jack: That. is. wow.
Leo: Not with a closed fist, but more like a slap.
Jack: Like where?
Leo: Ass mostly. She asked for it on the face once.
So@24: ...
So@24: ...
So@24: I bought a teakettle at Target this weekend.
Leo: Needless to say, I freaked the fuck out. It got too close for missiles, I switched to guns.
Leo: By which I mean: it's masturbation from here on out. Which by the way, I woke up the next morning to her doing to herself right next to me. It felt like that scene in American Beauty with Annette Bening waking up to Kevin Spacey squealing one off.
So@24: I was going to get the one for $11.99, but decided to take caution to the wind and get the one for $17.99.
Jack: Leo, I miss you.

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.

The Pep Talk

You may remember a while back, I was pursing a girl named Amber with high hopes I'd get (at the very least) a drunk, make-out sesh.

Having been with only one girl for six years, I missed out on opportunities to have drunken, make-out sessions with girls who I didn't have any interest in beyond the physical. These types of things usually happen during high school and, for the most part, college. It's like a twisted rite of passage. And I missed out.

Although I was pretty sure that Amber was as prime a candidate as any, I was ill-equipped to prepare for an evening under these circumstances. The only girl I had ever actively "planned" to make out with was my girlfriend; someone who wasn't just there to fulfill some physical need. Get my drift?

I found an old conversation between Leo and myself during the night I had Amber over for drinks. As almost all of my conversations with Leo about girls, I found it absolutely hilarious as well as insightful.

I think you might too.

Who says guys don't think about these things?

Listen to me, young grasshopper.

Leo: Whatever the signs, whatever the signals.... assume nothing. Treat her like... I wouldn't say a dude, but you know...
Leo: And don't forget to flirt. If you remember how.
So@24: Fuck you. I can flirt.
Leo: And I can fly.
So@24: Hang tight, I'm searching Google for a "suck it" emoticon.
Leo: Anyway. Small moves. Baby steps.
So@24: Uh huh.
Leo: Oh. And shampoo your crotch.
So@24: Fuck, man!
Leo: And clean your shit up before she comes over.
So@24: I'm heading to the store on my way home. What should I pick up? Rum?
Leo: It doesn't really matter--vodka or rum. Clear is better.
So@24: Chasers?
Leo: Vodka and Vanilla Coke are very effective clothing solvents
So@24: Vanilla Coke is risky.
Leo: Explain.
So@24: It's not an effective go-to. Some girls love it and some girls loathe it. I think I'm safe with Diet Coke.
Leo: Diet is safe. Libations check. You have a pre-funk playlist?
So@24: What?? For just me and her?
Leo: Absolutely. You have it playing when she comes in. Not loud, just background music.
So@24: Oh fuck me.
Leo: AND, most importantly, don't make it YOUR favorite pre-funk, make it her favorite. You're looking for crowd pleasers, not pop-punk.
So@24: Fuck you.
Leo: Maybe some shit that'll start a conversation. "You heard this/Who is this?" shit.
Leo: You need a second playlist though... This one is the tough one. You need a Naughty Business Mix.
So@24: No! This is where I draw the line. I'm not making a fucking "sexy" playlist. I can't do it. I just can't.
Leo: There's nothing more awkward than a silent, first make out.
So@24: It's cheesedick.
Leo: No man, it's not like... breathy-"Hang on, let me put on some music" shit. Unless shit goes down earlier in the evening, the make out isn't going to happen until later, perhaps even an hour or two AFTER you get home.
Leo: So you just put that shit on as background noise. Don't think of it as a "sex mix", think of it as a "chillax mix"
So@24: My curiosity is getting the best of me, what do you suggest?
Leo: Well, there's a fine line. Can't be too obvious (Manilow), but there's nothing worse than music that's too upbeat. Which you have a lot of.
Leo: When in doubt, go classic. Some slower Beatles. "Norwegian Wood" is a great example of a nice balance in vibe. Not too much percussion, but not "cheesedick" either.
So@24: What do you think I'm going to throw on? Fucking Sting's "Fields of Gold"?
Leo: ...
So@24: Fuck you.

The Mark(us) of a True Wingman

It's been an ongoing joke on this blog (and my actual life) that Leo is the worst friend to have with you when you're single and looking for female companionship.

I've discussed it before: he's the worst wingman ever.

It's not intentional. Leo has actually been known to say to me (verbatim), "Let's get you out of that condo and into vagina." He always wants to help me out. But it's a problem when you're a hot piece of eye candy for girls. It's not his fault.

* * *

I haven't seen my old roommate since he moved home to save up for our European adventure, so needless to say I was excited to reunite with him for a night of boozing... just like old times. Leo met up with me and a group of our high school friends at The Blue Moon bar in Portland. He walked in the door in a long, black pea coat and Chuck Taylors. He gave me a hug and offered to buy my first drink.

Monica, a friend of a friend not known for her use of subtle hints, shot me a look as soon as she took notice of Leo. She quickly beckoned to me when Leo was occupied elsewhere and I approached her.

So@24: What's up?
Monica: Um. Your friend over there is fucking hot.
So@24: So what... you want me to put in a good word for you?
Monica: God yes.

I know Leo doesn't ever need it, but I always like to feel like I'm helping out when the opportunity arises.

So@24: Hey, my friend over there thinks you're cute.
Leo: Who? That girl?

-stared ahead-
-slurped beer-
So@24: Yeeeeeup.
Leo: Oh. Cool.

Leo clearly wasn't interested. Another one bit the dust.

Moments later, Nancy walked into the bar. Nancy was a coworker of mine when I worked at my very first job in high school. It had been years since I've last seen or even had contact with her, but through the magic of Facebook... these things tend to be possible.

She had texted me and wanted to meet up, so I told her I was at the bar with friends.

Nancy and I weren't extremely close when we worked together at the movie theater, but I do remember sharing good conversations with her while we slaved together cleaning out the greasy popcorn popper.

She was much more attractive than I remembered her; I guess people tend to grow up and change physically from high school to post college, eh? Or maybe she looked better when she wasn't wearing that beloved movie theater uniform: the vest. In any case, she had a pretty smile, ample bosom, and cute freckles. Nancy had grown up.

Nancy gave me a hug and I bought us a round of shots to start the night off. It was fun catching up with her and reminiscing over our movie theater days. I was starting to feel pretty confident about the situation. We were both drinking (heavily) and the conversation never had an awkward moment.

At some point in the night, Leo took notice of this and pulled me aside.

Leo: So what's going on? Think something might happen with you and Nancy?
So@24: I dunno... maybe?
Leo: I think you're doing alright. Remember: cool as a cucumber, baby. Cool as a cucumber.

The rest of the evening was relatively uneventful. I mingled with old friends, bought rounds of shots, introduced Nancy to a few choice members of the old gang, etc.

However, as fun and light as my exchange with Nancy was all evening... my Spidey Sense was tingling and not in the good way. I think this sixth sense develops when you're single. If you have to question whether or not the girl is interested: she's probably not. I had a feeling Nancy's interest were elsewhere...

Nancy: So your friend Leo is pretty cute.
So@24: Ahhhh... yeah, he gets that a lot. He's a good guy.
Nancy: What do you think?? Should I go talk to him?
So@24: Sure, go for broke.
Nancy: I just ordered you and I drinks, I'll be right back!

Leo was at a different part of the bar, catching up with our friend Markus. Nancy jumped out of her bar stool and bounced in his direction. I wasn't too upset, this was a situation I've run into before. I raised my whiskey and coke and downed it in just a few gulps.

Moments later, Leo tapped me on the shoulder.

Leo: How's it going with Nancy?
So@24: She's not into me!
Leo: Really? I thought things were going pretty well.
So@24: She's into you, you bastard.
Leo: Oh fuck that.
So@24: Eh. It's not a big deal.

Leo left to rejoin our friend Markus. I turned back to my conversation with my cousin Mimi and other friends.

I felt another tap on my shoulder again. It was Leo.

Leo: I just kissed Markus.
So@24: ... ... what?
Leo: I told Nancy that Markus and I were a couple.
So@24: You told Nancy you were gay??
Leo: Hahaha! Yeah! She didn't believe me and called me out, so I grabbed Markus and gave him a big long kiss.

I choked on my drink and busted up laughing.

So@24: Wow. Just. Wow. You really didn't need to do that, man. I wasn't that into her.
Leo: Eh fuck it. It was pretty funny. You should have seen the look on her face. Fucking priceless.
So@24: A for Effort, but I don't think I'm down with being "default". I still got your next drink though, you fucking weirdo.

Leo threw an arm around me and lead me back to the bar.

Leo: Besides, she wasn't that cool anyway. We still got New Years to look forward to.


I've heard of friends talking up their buddy to girls. I've heard of friends taking home "the ugly girl" in order to help out their friend in need.

But I've never, ever heard of a friend kissing another guy as a means of helping his buddy get the girl.

Maybe Leo is a better wingman than I thought.

Chutes and Lad-Her's

A few emails have popped up in my inbox asking me, "Are you really as okay as you sound in your response?"; referring to when my ex girlfriend dropped the news on me that she started seeing someone seriously.

To be honest, I'm actually strangely calm about it. This will be the second relationship she has been in since our break up (that's a total of 3 relationships for Lynn, if you're keeping count) and her revealing it to me this time is astronomically better than the first time around!

That being said, am I going to invite her new guy out to join me for a couple of suds, go in for a bro hug, and bond over "Have you tried this one on her?" stories? Probably not. But I meant everything I said to her in my email back to her and I do wish her well.

Lynn and I have talked a couple of times since she informed me about her new relationship. She'll subtly try and slide him into the conversation ("He came over for dinner the other night" or "... and since I'm kind of seeing someone now..."), but I refuse to take the bait. I think that she wants to tell me about him, like any friend would want to when they are still in that honeymoon stage of new relationships.

I'm sure she wants me to ask questions and have me be interested, as any good friend should. But, I just can't bring myself to indulge her and urge her to tell me more about him. I'm still very much an "ignorance is bliss" kinda guy. I'd rather delay for as long as I can the fact that some day, I'll have to eventually learn his name, what he looks like, and all other details until that come with knowing someone.

I mean for this to be a segue to something I've found myself struggling with, these past couple of weeks. I've found myself comparing where I'm at in the romance department with everyone around me. Probably not healthy and I know that I gain nothing from this, but I've discovered that it's force that I can't stop!

For example... Leo, who makes a conscious effort to keep his toe out of the dating pool, gets set up by a friend to a cocktail party with a very attractive girl. A cute blind date (although if you mention the D-word within earshot of Leo, he'll fight it tooth and nail) who he ends up having uninhibited, drunken sex within the very first night of meeting her!

God, I miss drunk sex.

Jack happens to mentions in conversation, that at a party, he made out with a girl in her car. I'm barely able to focus on any of the other details about the party as I am completely baffled how he can be so damn casual about this! To him (and the rest of the world, it seems), it's like a fucking to-do list one would quickly scribble on a notepad on a lazy Sunday afternoon:

1. Pick up milk, eggs, and jar of sweet pickles
   
2. Drop off a package to Aunt Silvia at the post office
   
3. Meet girl at party, follow her to car and make out
   
4. Walk the neighbor's border collie

People are still making out in cars??

God, I miss making out in cars.

And out of complete boredom (and maybe a pinch of masochism), I've clicked through Facebook profiles of my old high school acquaintances and said through gritted teeth, "This fucking guy better not have a cute girlfriend" and when this indeed turns out to be the case, I quickly close out the window in bitter frustration.

I just reread that. I'm disgusted with myself.

I know I'm not being fair to myself by trying to compare where I'm at on the game board of romance to those around me. But, fuck! I keep landing on the damn chutes and everyone else is climbing ladders.

But what we know to be good for us and actually acting on it, often times we find that it isn't a union that comes easy. I'm finding myself more and more obsessed with the "when is it my turn?!" mentality.

"I've paid my dues!" is all I can whine about though. I should be happy that my best friend is breaking his dry spell and sleeping with hot girls on Date One. And good for my buddy Jack for bringing it back to the roots and coppin' a feel in a motor vehicle.

I really am okay with where Lynn is at now. As okay with it as I can be as an ex boyfriend of six years.

I think that when I am steadily seeing someone (or at the very least, having sex consistently!) I will be even more "okay". Maybe even able to have full conversations about it like real friends do.

I just can't do it feeling like I'm such a loser for being so far behind, awkwardly adjusting and readjusting my position in the starting block while she is near the finish line about to enjoy having a giant victory tub of Gatorade poured on her.

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

So@24 & Leo's Big European Adventure

I've made the executive decision to join my former roommate and childhood chum Leo on the first leg of his trip around the world in April 2009.

Fuck it. I'm young, I never take days off and the opportunity to travel with your best friend doesn't come around very often.

Besides. It should be interesting. I could use the blog material.

Ol' Leo and I will sit down with a map over Christmas break and decide exactly where I can go based on how far the almighty US dollar can take me.

We've already agreed that we are heading east and Ireland will be our first stop.

Perhaps Denmark??

Stay tuned.

Sidestreets to the Danger Zone

I have a date on Friday.



I think?



One evening back in the early (darkest, most bitter) stages of my breakup, Leo and I threw a house party. At this particular shindig, I was taking shots of Jim Beam like there was no tomorrow. Jim and I still haven't made up since our big blow up from that night. Bastard.



I had met a girl there who happened to be a friend of a friend of a friend. Amber was relatively attractive, drank like a fish, but there was something particularly... "immature" about her. I was in a very dark place, so throughout the evening I pretended to listen to her as I took pull after obliterating from my pint o' whiskey. She was very nice and maybe I would have been more receptive to her if we had met at a different time.



At around 3 in the morning, I decided to pass out in bed. Amber followed me into the room and crawled under the covers with me. She kept going on and ON about how she hated living with her boyfriend ("There used to be so much passion! So much PASSION!") while I laid awake staring at the ceiling hoping that she had somehow miraculously gained powers of telepathy, would read my homicidal thoughts and leave me alone to wallow in my own depression.



That was two years ago. I haven't spoken or heard from her since that party.



In the back of my mind, I have always wondered what would have happened between her and I if I wasn't in that weird "immediately out of a six year relationship" stage. Over the weekend, I got to thinking about ol' Amber. Maybe it was time to be proactive and not be so picky. Maybe I do need to just "get laid" and bitch slap that fucking monkey off my back.



Impulsively, I text messaged Amber and to my surprise, she replied back. I had opened a dialogue with a girl who I can barely place a memory on due to a thick mental fog of Jim Beam. I discovered that she lives about an hour and a half away (not a quick trip) and is no longer living with her boyfriend or dating anyone.



After about 15 texts and a few emails back and forth, I asked if she wanted to grab a drink this Friday. She agreed.



I think the circumstances are pretty black and white here. I believe that Amber and I are on the same page. This was going to be a "hey, let's get completely smashed together and we don't really know each other and see what happens" Friday night.



I haven't ever had one of those.



Time to get insight from my best friend Leo.



Leo: After careful thought and reconsideration of certain themes on your blog, I've come to the conclusion.



1. You can't look for a girlfriend now

2. You need to have sex.



So@24: We're supposed to have drinks this Friday. It's been forever since I've done something like this.

Leo: You're GOLDEN! A few drinks, it's game on.

Leo: ...But seriously wear a condom. You don't want to jump into the LA River without a hazmat.

So@24: I don't remember ANYthing about her.

Leo: Here's the key. You're a condo owning baller making a little time out of your baller schedule to entertain this lass. You walk the walk, wear that confidence. It's all over.

So@24: And since I don't really care what happens anyway, this confidence thing will be a breeze.

Leo: ... I'm walking a real thin moral line here.

So@24: HAHAHAAHAHAH!

Leo: Basically, all I'm saying is, finding The Next One takes a lot of time and significant trial and error. We'd like to think it happens the way it does in The Notebook, but the truth of the matter is we try people out and see if they fit. You're basically seeing if Amber "fits".

Leo: That might be a bad way of putting it, but you see what I mean.

So@24: Well, what if I already know that she is NOT a fit?

Leo: Then you do it anyway to increase the size of the data pool. It's all in the name of science. At least that's what I tell myself. Besides, she could very well be fine with just having sex and that being that.

So@24: Maybe you're onto something...

Leo: I can safely say that for all women I've slept with recently, I knew that I was not interested in any of them. Sometimes I feel compelled to let them know it before (without being hurtful... "I don't think I have the time a relationship requires") and sometimes it's an unspoken agreement that we're both here to get each other off. But in every case, I'm settling in a way. Because I know these girls are not for me.

So@24: -scratches chin-

Leo: So. I think it's time for you to settle.

So@24: Oh fuck. Prof. Leo is making us buy TWO of his textbooks. I hate when they do that.

Leo: Dude. Residuals.

* * *

I guess the final moral question remains: If the opportunity presents itself, should I sleep with a relatively attractive girl (who may not be that bright) who I barely know with the slight chance that I'd get to feel her boobs? Discuss.



Leo's answer? See below.