Monthly Archives: June 2010

Love Love Love

Two things happened the other day that reminded me that good real love is worth holding out for :

1. My very first love ever contacted me. (Thank you Linked In.) We were 17, in high school and I’m not sure what we had in common besides going to the same high school, being in the same grade and sharing a locker (which is like living together back then). He used to let me shave his flat top and one time he shaved the hair right above my neck into a buzz. And what more do you need? We just like each other a lot. Loved each other. And he was a good hugger and a great kisser. We haven’t been in touch over the years. But he found me and we got to exchange emails and tell each other about our lives. I wanted to apologize for being such a PAIN IN THE ASS girlfriend. But I didn’t because he said he had such great memories and I didn’t want to ruin that. I haven’t been in love in a long while, so it’s nice to be reminded that I was once. And it was really, really great.

2. Washington Post launched their I Do – Washington Weddings section. I’m mildly obsessed with it. I don’t normally like reading engagement announcements, but there’s something about having the couple tell you themselves, and not reading some stuffy, regurgitated story. The kayak couple is so cute and I love that they met in the dressing room of a kayak shop. I love that their love of kayaking brought them love.

I’m Blah Blah Blahnd

Shoot. This has happened to be as a brunette, too. Cute Irish lad. Liked to rest his head on my bosom. It didn't last.

That’s right. I’m blond now. Not flaxen Claudia Schiffer blonde. Nonetheless. Blond. Maybe more like Jen Aniston. At the salon, I said “brighter,” and then said “run with it.” And that Anna did.

So three hours later…blond.

She assured me men would be knocking over each other to talk to me on the street. Actually, she said I would just be noticed more. She knows. She went blond, too.

Do blonds have more fun? Mmmm no conclusive evidence on the fun factor per se. BUT blond hair is associated with youth, which means men are into it. From one of my favorite articles on attraction:

Typically, young girls with light blond hair become women with brown hair. Thus, men who prefer to mate with blond women are unconsciously attempting to mate with younger (and hence, on average, healthier and more fecund) women.

I didn’t lighten up to get more (or any) attention. I simply needed a diversion from cutting bangs because it has taken forever to grow mine out. But hey, if dudes start chasing me down the street, SCORE. I’ll let you know.

Back on the Sauce

I swore off online dating for eternity about two months ago.


I have to try Cupidtino. It’s in the ss job description.

I just signed up, but I haven’t filled anything out yet. I’m still reeling over seeing my new mid-to-late-30-something age pop up on the screen. Strange. (I will stop talking about the age thing soon. Promise.)

The site is extremely crisp and simple — Scandinavian-esque navigation, like maybe Ikea designed it. I’m not sure how I feel about the “Mac her” option which is like poking on Facebook. Also, the option to meet at the nearest Mac store is a little too cute. But then, I would totally do that. Onto the part of the profile called “I’m became a Mac when.” I guess that’s when you tell your Mac story. Mine’s pretty boring. My job made me do it. And then I saved up for years and years and bought my own. The End.

You can’t search by city yet (it’s still in Beta), so I’m currently weeding through 34 to 45 year old men all over the darn country. Haven’t been interested in clicking a single profile yet. (Yes, I’m only looking at pictures. You caught me being superficial.)

Wait. Hold the phone. I just clicked on the guy whose photo is of what seems to be a glow in the dark Mac and crossbones tattoo on a rather hairy, moley and spongey bicep. Mario Lopez look alike. Handsome man — IN TOKYO. The bald guy in Austin has my attention. Except I don’t live in Texas.

In other news, I finally smiled at Gym Crush. He grimaced back. He was on a treadmill so I will chalk it up to that. He will smile back at me.

Let’s Talk About Sex

Dear ss,

I went on a date with this guy and we had sex. I like him, but is it even possible to consider having a relationship with him now that we’ve already had sex?

Love, Not A Slut

Dear Not A Slut,

Yes. Maybe. No. In a friend’s experience, yes (15 years and 2 kids later). My mom always said only have sex with someone you’re in love with. She forgot the rest of the sentence, which is if you want it to be special and more than just sex. This doesn’t mean it can’t evolve into being special and more than just sex. But on the first date, well, that would be tough to achieve.

Some guys will say it doesn’t matter if a girl sleeps with him on the first date. Meaning the relationship could still go either way. (Important: The sex does not make you more special to him, so don’t use it as a vice!) Some guys will say otherwise. Like, if you’re sleeping with them on the first date, who else are you sleeping with on the first date? You whore. (Of course, if he’s sleeping with you on the first date, what does that say about him? I digress.)

The best advice I’ve heard on this is to act out the relationship you want from the start. So if you’re looking for a serious exclusive relationship, do as my friend K. did and wait until he commits to an exclusive relationship before you have sex with him. It worked out for her. It can work out for you, NAS. This is not about withholding the carrot. It’s about self preservation and waiting for something real and special. And there’s nothing old fashioned or weird about that.

For a realistic account of awkward early sex before you’ve determined whether there’s a relationship, please read the first part of this short story by Jeffrey Eugenides. I chuckled to myself because really, is he following me around in my life?

Dream Date

dreaming of a dream date

Me too, Cornela. Me too.

Saw this in the dressing room at Barney’s Co-op in Georgetown. The dress didn’t work. Way too short. But I loved the silohouettes with captions. This one, of course, spoke to me.

My last date wasn’t exactly a typical dream date. But it was pretty darn fun. Easy. We talked and drank beer. I told him about the gazing parties. So we tried it. I giggled like a school girl at first. But then I was quiet and so was he and we just looked at eachother. Then my stomach flipped a little and I felt a knot in my throat. The eye lock became intense. Too much. I got the feeling he was seeing right through me, that perhaps I was revealing something about myelf that I didn’t want him to know yet. It also felt like we connected in a different way than I normally do on dates. In a good way. But in an intense way. So I laughed because that’s what I do when I’m generally uncomfortable, and confessed to him that I couldn’t gaze any longer. I think I made it a minute. Probably 30 seconds. Hmph.