Most of us here in the States have spent the better part of this year using weather as a legitimate conversation point. It’s either unseasonably hot or cold, there’s too little moisture or it won’t stop pouring… 2010 may be the first time when someone in my age bracket is willing participate in lengthy exchanges about weather patterns. Following that comes talk of global warming and other politically-charged topics–but hey, I’ll take all the pointless-banter-turned-legitimate speaking topics I can get at this point. Unless this is one of those “just part of growing up” things, in which case I retract this whole line of thought.

As it begins to take a turn for the chillier, albeit a bit slower than most of us would like, it’s the little things that make me aware that summer is ending. Leather goods are coming out of the closet, re-waterproofed and placed a few inches further forward in the closet than the heavy wool coats purchased while it was still necessary to run the air conditioning 10 hours a day. Pantry shelves are restocked with favorite canned soups and other non-perishables for the days when leaving the comfort of home is simply out of the question. More notably, Starbucks kicked their advertising for the Pumpkin Spice Latte into full gear. (How anyone drinks that garbage is totally beyond me…) Yes friends, autumn is just around the corner and winter is not far off. This means it’s time to begin to settling into the age-old routines necessary for hibernation.

The real sign of changing seasons in the world of the single 20-somethings is not that the leaves are turning; it’s the quick progression from summer fun to winter stability. Without warning it seems everyone is suddenly in a relationship. I don’t think anyone’s under the impression these temporary unions will make it past the fiery initial stages of relationship-dom before a catastrophic break up. Just until spring when all the little bunnies are hopping around town again, excited to regale their friends with tales of new…er, tail. (Sorry, couldn’t help it.)

Most of my friends are now playing house with someone new and that doesn’t bother me–it’s to be expected, really. What is perplexing to me is that this year more people than usual are taking a different approach: rekindling the flame with ex’s is the name of the game this fall. Sites like eHarmony and Match are pumping out a whole new line of advertising (notably targeted at the early 40′s and up crowd), yet the youth sector seems eager to return to the familiar.

I get it guys: you’re seeking out something that makes you feel good. And your ex–they used to do that for you. Somehow the fact that it’s “used to”, as in past tense, as in things are no longer that way, escapes these individuals I would usually classify as very “with it.” I wouldn’t go so far as to say you should never get back with an ex; always and never are words that can seldom be applied in the real world. As a rule of thumb though, it’s a bad idea.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve done it. I wouldn’t even say I regret doing so, but it certainly was a learning experience. Trying to bring a relationship back from the dead generates a lot of inner conflict; to reconnect with old feelings while disregarding whatever leftover post-breakup ill will you held onto is no easy task. Worse yet, if you didn’t do the dumping, it’s borderline impossible to force yourself to believe it won’t happen again–this time you will do everything right and there will be some kind of fairy tale ending. Maybe that’s why when my friends get those out of the blue emails and texts from ex’s, they eagerly ask anyone currently online for their opinion. What starts as a friend asking my opinion tends to turn into them trying to debate all the reasons it couldn’t possibly hurt to just meet up and just “see what they have to say.”

Except that’s not what happens – you hook up, or make out, or pour out all the emotions you chose not to address before and in that moment, everything the two of you do and say is sincere. However, that moment ends… and then? You’re left with a big goddamn mess and not a whole lot of sympathy from friends like me–the ones that told you the truth, even though we knew you wanted us to play along with your rekindling the fire nonsense. Nothing ceases the healing of an old wound like fiddling with the scab, which is why your mother told you not to pick at them as a child. Wounds you feel in a phantom-heart pain type of way tend to heal a lot slower though… which would be why after six months of not speaking to someone it still hurts even while it feels good to see a certain someone’s name pop up on your caller ID.

So my dear friends, readers and other strangers who for whatever reason are reading this: find someone new to let your world revolve around for a few months until spring. Just please, don’t ask me to remind you why sleeping with/dating/loving/meeting up with your ex “just for coffee” (which we all know means at least a little hanky panky) is a bad idea. You already know.

Turns out, I have less of a set “type” than I thought. I don’t bother checking out dudes with shaved heads, throat tattoos or lobes big enough for me to put four fingers through. (My inner comparison of that last bit to fisting doesn’t escape me.) Looking around, there’s fewer would’s in here than I would have been able to spot a few years ago. Has my taste changed that much or are people getting uglier? I want to believe I am becoming more refined in my choice in men, but the second option is equally as likely.

I watch women a lot too, though I’m pickier and harsher in my judgments of them as they walk by. There’s fat-faced high school girls abound in here, and the low-budget edgy dye jobs are a red flag that I don’t need to go there. (I learned this lesson the hard way about five years ago. Remind me and I’ll tell you guys about it later.)

A girl just walked in the front door–she bears slight resemblance to a coke-y Lohan. I’m feeling it until the guy two steps behind her makes jealous eye contact, so I go back to pretending to read something really interesting on my laptop’s screen. My sexual preference has always been fairly fluid, but I suspect I’m years past wanting to actively sleep with women… thinking about, however, it is a different story.

That’s precisely one ‘would’ in four hours of people watching, by the way. I know it’s not that I’m not interested in looking, but everything I’ve been looking at hasn’t been all that interesting. Well, maybe interesting to the kinds of girls I mentioned in my last paragraph but not to me.

Trust me, I’ve been evaluating my options. The rockabillies are too chubby, the punk rock boys too thin. The older dudes are in no way comparable to foxes, the younger dudes could use a bath and a box of Nicorette. All those formerly delicious bros are packing beer guts and hipster boys have no visible package in their skinny jeans.

Picky, picky, picky. It’s not like this was intentional, but I suspect my sex drive is on sabbatical for a while. I’m not bothered by the idea at all, but it’d be nice to see someone worth making eyes at on occasion.

Then again, between work, websites and my anal-retentive work out schedule I don’t have much time to ‘entertain’. Unless by ‘entertain’ we mean spending hours writing by myself in coffee shops where I stare at (ugly) boys.

For the record, I will probably never stop having enough time for that.

Don’t get me wrong, we all can appreciate those good intentions. However, they don’t say that the road to hell is paved with them for without reason. If you can be direct while still using tact (which is every bit as difficult as it sounds) you will have hit the goldmine.

A few weeks back I found this: 8 reasons to move on from a relationship/dating experience. However, the list seemed to be missing a few key points I wind up bringing up when counseling my female friends about the lame dudes they go out with. I’m posting my additions here for all of you ladies (and fellas) that need to clue in about when to say fuck it & search for Mr. Right elsewhere.

1. If he doesn’t call without you having to ask, move on.
Jesus this is so true. I hate the “who’s going to call/text/IM to initiate hanging out” game–it’s awkward and frankly, after high school these types of power games need to end. More importantly, why should you have to ask someone to call?

2. If he doesn’t text/call you at a reasonable hour, move on.
Huzzah! I wish I could get more of my girlfriends to understand that if you’re only hearing from a dude at 2am, it’s because he’s only got one thing on his mind at that hour. Trust me, it isn’t what hilarious insight you give about your day before he tries to cram his hands down your pants.

3. If you’re telling him everything about your life and he’s not telling you anything about his, move on.
I understand having pieces of your life you don’t address until you’re comfortable with someone… but if he knows your life story & is being shady about his own, that’s a red flag you should not ignore.

4. If he doesn’t remember anything you say, move on.
Portions of long-winded conversations are forgivable – the fact he can’t remember if you have any living relatives is not. This is one of those “use common sense, not sympathetic sense” types of situations.

5. If he continues to talk to a girl that’s not his best friend even after you’ve expressed your discomfort towards the whole situation, move on.
I think it goes without saying that this is under certain circumstances, and only applicable when there is some type of dual-sided romantic tension.

6. If he’s an asshole to those in the service industry, move on.
Nothing is more appalling than a man mistreating a waitress/gas station attendant/etc. unnecessarily. Be polite, over-tip when the service is good. I remember boys in younger years being mean to people in an attempt to impress the people around them. Let me assure you that kind of behavior does not produce the same results in adulthood.

Gentlemen, make note of this. You have no idea how many second dates I didn’t go on after watching my date mistreat our cocktail server, bartender, or taxi cab driver.

7. If he’s unwilling to deal with your baggage, move on.
Up to a point, I agree. Once high school is over the baggage accumulates and the fact is, everyone’s got some. However if any chick rolls up with several steamer trunks, roll-alongs and multiple hand-held bags you boys should be jumping ship.

8. If there is no chemistry, move on.
Hello, this is a no-brainer! It’s also the one thing I was constantly having to explain myself for doing. You don’t think all those guys I met just mysteriously quit being interesting, do you? I wasn’t feeling it.

Those were the original eight… but it wouldn’t be like me not to include at least a few more of my own creation.

9. If he isn’t good to his mother, move on.
In my mind, this is the best way to see how a guy treats women in his life… especially in the long term. I’m talking about guys that blow off their mother’s repeated calls/texts/emails, speak ill of them, or talk down to their mom in front of you. Generally a guy that isn’t good to his mother isn’t going to be good to you, either. (Case in point.) Now, there are exceptions to this rule but we’re not talking about someone who’s mother beat them and locked them in closets throughout their childhood.

Of all the signs that a dude is a total jerkoff that girls ignore, I think this one is the most common.

10. If he doesn’t do the little manner-related things all ladies love (holding the door, letting you order first at meals) move on.
Guess what, people with manners are awesome! Men that say please, thank you, and hold your door are out there–don’t waste your time with someone who treats you like one of the bros. This is more about him taking into account that you are a lady and he should treat you as such than him being old-fashioned. Besides, this is a nice way to crawl inside a dude’s head and allows you to speculate about them potentially having a *gasp* normal, healthy upbringing.

11. If he always has to have the last bite–be it of dinner, dessert, or popcorn at the movie theater–move on.
I’m not saying he should be letting you have the last bite all the time – but he should offer it on a regular basis. Men that are considerate when it comes to the little things like the last bite are also more likely to find meeting your needs in other departments *ahem* of importance.

12. If all the things he offers to do consist of imbibing vices to make up for your virtues, move on.
Drunks are boring. No, I don’t want to go to the bar every time we go out. I don’t care if it’s the first thing we do or the last thing we do… it seems to be the only thing people my age do. BORING!

Besides, there’s something to be said for guys that have more going on than just a schedule of bar appearances they feel obligated to make nightly. Movies, dinner, drawing inappropriate pictures with sidewalk chalk? That’s the shit movie moments are made of… not round eight at his local watering hole.

13. If he doesn’t brush his teeth, clean his ears, and pay attention to the length of his nose hairs… move on.
While every girl I can think of has dated at least one absentminded professor type, at this modern age of appearance meaning everything there is no excuse to be gross. Guess how many third dates I avoided after realizing someone hadn’t taken a q-tip to his waxy buildup for at least a few weeks?

Let me be clear: I’m not saying you should only seek out crazy metrosexuals with consistently well-groomed coifs and weekly manicure/pedicure appointments. But if a dude can’t be bothered to clean up a bit before taking you out, can you imagine what yummy smells/flavors might be waiting for you at the end of the rainbow later? (Trust me, I can and none of them make me want to say ‘aahh’.)

That’s it folks. Bottom line? Use some G.D. common sense.

Actually I’m pretty sure this is the perfect explanation as to why people don’t make it past date three with me, really. (However I have trained myself not to create or answer any “list” type questions. It’s for everyone’s benefit, I promise.) I still love Henry Rollins, and I feel all the better for knowing that he can probably get himself off in less than five minutes. Ah, romance!

I got three phone calls in rapid succession recently from a number I didn’t recognize. I don’t know about you, but I don’t answer numbers that aren’t already in my address book unless I’ve recently put something up on Craigslist. When I called the number back I hit an obnoxious voicemail of a recorded song instead of identifying phrase telling me whose phone I’d just rung up. (I thought that went out with pagers around the year 2000, but maybe I’m just out of the loop.)

Here’s the text message exchange that followed:

UnIdentified caller: Hey, how are you?
Me: Uhhh, who is this?
UnIdentified caller: This is Samson, we had lunch once.
Me: Oh, I deleted your number. You should do the same thing with mine!

Here’s the deal, I went on a lunch date with Samson following a semi-weird message exchange online about a month ago. Ten minutes into lunch I was wondering if I could pretend my non-existent dog had been hit by a car, or that friend was in the midst of a Chris Brown moment, or maybe my already dead grandmother had just suffered a stroke–anything to get the fuck out of this restaurant without causing a scene.

What could make me, an avid people watcher, so desperate to book it out of there? It was the debate we got into within ten minutes of meeting. This wasn’t just any debate, mind you. He decided to unleash his inner eco-fag and lectured (a very appropriate choice of words in this case) me on how ‘we’ should “force big business to be more environmentally friendly.” While that is a cute idea in the land of lollipops and holiday-affiliated semi-deities that give children presents, it’s not realistic. The fact is that at present time being ecologically sound is not economically wise; it’s too expensive, time consuming, and a long list of other things meaning no big name business making large financial contributions to political cantidates has to think about. This debate got increasingly heated as he became frustrated with the fact that he was incapable of defending his point of view. If there’s one thing I get a kick out of, it’s making people see flaws in whatever point of view they just tried to desperately to cram down my throat without being able to back it up.

I’d like to mention the fact that this guy was one of those “professional student” types. You know, living in his parents basement and changing from one major to another at the drop of a hat… interested only in appearing well-educated and worldly based off what he’d picked up from several 200-level philosophy courses. People like this only look smart when speaking to someone who doesn’t know anything about the topic, or can’t hold their own in a debate. I do not fall into either of those categories, and so once the check was paid I made haste with the exit.

After that I ignored his calls, texts, and other attempts to contact me. If you aren’t feeling it after the first time you meet, there’s no reason to bother speaking to that person again. I thought after weeks without a response he’d get it. What is it about text messaging that makes people feel empowered enough to try to start an argument when it’s best to just let it be, anyway?

UnIdentified caller: Do you have anything to say for yourself?
Me: Maybe you missed the implication in my last text: I’m not interested!
UnIdentified caller: Well I’m glad you finally had the balls to tell me instead of avoiding me!
Me: Lulz!
UnIdentified caller: For the record I think you’re a grade-a bitch. Go fuck yourself, forever, have a nice night.
Me: If you could take the hint instead of crying about it, that would be great. Have fun in your mom’s basement lamenting about girls that don’t feel they should have to justify not being interested in you.

This was followed with a flurry of texts I didn’t reply to, some highlights include the fact that I am an “ice queen” who will “someday be humbled” and that I should “grow some balls.” Listen guys, let me tell you something: one unpleasant lunch date you decided we should go Dutch on (reason #1 we will never be going out again) followed by me not responding to any of your attempts to contact me is a pretty clear statement that I don’t want to talk to you. Beyond that I am a girl, I do not have balls nor would I like a pair of my own. And frankly after that, why would you want for me to make you look bad a second time?

I thought the “fuck you, forever” was a nice touch, especially considering it was followed by “have a nice night.” Sometimes my life is just a live feed of passiveaggressivenotes.com. Looks like Samson will either need to start meeting less intelligent girls, or ones with a Captain Planet fetish.

You guys have read about my adventures in e-dating and have clearly noticed the fact that few dudes last past three or four outings. One time I met a dude off the internet, and he was actually pretty cool. Attractive, smart, fun in bed; the trifecta of a good time. He was going to be leaving end of January for military shit overseas and things were flowing appropriately for that type of separation to be looming in the future. While it seemed like something legit could result, I wasn’t worried about it; I figured he’d leave and that would be the end of that.

I left town for New Years, and our communication became increasingly infrequent. This was the kind of guy whose phone died while he was out with friends so he borrowed his friend’s phone to keep texting (and then call) me; not responding to a text letting him know I was back in town for several weeks seems like a textbook case of loss of interest to me.

I’m a strong believer that ladies should not chase men or buses. When dudes flake I wind up putting all that energy into getting shit done. DMAC, m’dears. I was bummed that I didn’t get the last few weeks of quality romping out of it, but that was about it.

Until the Mormon (okay – former Mormon, but it’s what he’s being referred to for storytelling purposes) sent me a text in response to the last thing I had sent him a few weeks prior. Guys out there, that’s some super ballsy shit to try to pull with any girl. We always remember how long it’s been since the last time we spoke, and you acting like you haven’t been ignoring us adds insult to injury. So I sent him a sassy message which pretty clearly let him know to fuck off.

I think it’s pretty clear from that text how I feel: not into it. So him getting sassy back was at the least, unexpected. So I went the extra mile, linking The Oatmeal’s list of commonly misspelled words.

Well at least he sort of got the message about the misspelled words thing. Except not. I’m not even going into the implication that I was referring to myself as large.

As far as I can tell there’s only a few cardinal sins in the Kingdom of Manhood. One of them is leaving yourself open to insults regarding your mother. Trust me, I came up with some fucking doozies. Why I decided to take the high road is beyond me, but I missed out on a great opportunity to unleash the fury on this dude.

A three text follow up, all within seconds of each other. Really? Yeah, really. The rest of the exchange pretty well speaks for itself, I think.

C’mon Mormon boy, no dude in their 20′s goes over a week without looking at their phone. If he had missed it surely his message to me would not have been a response to to it. A “sorry I blew you off” or even an “I’ve been super busy”–fine! It’s just… I hate rude, indirect people. A couple weeks is some ‘go fuck yourself’ shit, IMO. But he wasn’t done yet! Oh no.

This whole exchange was already super funny. Did anyone else’s eyebrows go up at that last text? More importantly, do dudes really say shit like that? This is the type of thing I would expect out of the mouth of a mildly psychotic emotional masochist… see also: girl. It’s one thing to play games, but the “I’m testing you to see if you really like me” thing went out with high school & having sex in the front seats of compact cars as far as I’m concerned.

On the offhand chance that I was doing that whole “crazy ass chick” thing without realizing it, I related the whole exchange to three of my straight guy friends. The overall response seems to be that none of the guys I asked about all this will ever date me for fear of losing an argument to me, and that his goodbye schpiel borders on fag-like. Sounds like a pretty fair assessment to me.

At this point I figured the Mormon was done; he’d told me off via text message and now I could delete his number from my phone… except he called me the next afternoon. In retrospect I should’ve just let the call hit voicemail but I figured it would at least be funny… and it was.

He proceeded to apologize for not calling me for several weeks, told me I was “really cool” and that he enjoyed all the time we had spent together. Most of this conversation was a litany of excuses, so let me throw out the two highlights.

Me: “So you blow me off for two weeks and then apologize, following a text telling me how apologies are never sincere. You realize you look like a total tool right now, right?”

Mormon: “Yeah but it wasn’t that I blew you off… I just forget to call people. So when I don’t hear from anyone for a while I realize I haven’t returned any calls or texts. But really, I feel bad. I apologize.”

Me: “Just so you know, regardless of how casual a situation you’re in there’s still a certain amount of etiquette required. Not talking to a girl for a few weeks that you were sleeping with, then hitting her up while drunk to argue is not saying anything to me except that you’re hard up for sex before you ship out.”

Mormon: “I am not hard up for sex, thank you.”

Hung yourself with that one, buddy. Have fun with whatever five you’ll be boinking until you leave. Best of luck in Afghanistan by the way. Avoid those land mines, chicks are rarely willing overlook when you’re missing both a leg and manners.

HIM: Hmm… awfully picky for a girl covered in trashy tattoos.

ME: HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Was that your attempt at a pickup line or did you just feel like using a dating site to “make a statement”?

HIM: No. I just like to laugh at white trash… it’s funny. I would come back with “read much?” to counter your argument, but we both know the answer to that, don’t we? When I start accepting the opinions of militant little girls with daddy issues, I’ll put your request at the top of the pile.

ME: Do you put this kind of energy into messaging every girl whose profile doesn’t strike your fancy? You seem like the type that would. “We both know the answer to that” – or not, obviously. I’m not going to justify my dislike of LAME DUDES to someone of your ‘caliber’. Keep the insults rolling, you’re not lowering my self-esteem. You are, however, showcasing precisely the reason why you’re single. Have a great life. May you find a girl as goofy-looking and overly concerned with other peoples’ standards as you are!

I’m not bummed out on being called white trash because I have tattoos. That’s fine, it’s the fact someone would go out of their way to message a stranger just to be a jerk. I am fairly certain this means I spend way too much time using a computer. Not only that but I am totes busted for engaging in an internet fight with someone that is obviously into trying to start internet fights. (I fully expect someone to post that image involving the special Olympics* in response I welcome it, even.) Not that I’m going to spend less time on the computer, but it does mean I think I need to be burning off energy daily. Fucking holidays are throwing me off my flow, guys.

Good thing I’ve almost finished the master-craft that is the blog entry regaling you with stories involving some recent IRL dating awkwardness, right? :D The internet: my work-out inspiration.

* Am I supposed to capitalize Special? And do they really expect me not to make retard references on the internet with a name like that?

- Invoke you & your date’s sense of childhood wonder with a trip to the planetarium. If you’re suffering from back pain, had shoulder surgery, or are otherwise entitled to do so… smoke a joint first. (Maybe buy your tickets prior to the smoking though, so nobody gets paranoid.) Go to the latest show they offer and maybe you can do some soul/mouth searching while looking at the stars. This is a date I still haven’t been on because my birthday date flaked. It’s also the best idea I’ve ever had, and I am determined to go with someone who will want to make out after.

- Determined to involve booze with your outing? Fine. Purchase some shooters of peppermint Schnapp’s. Bring them along on a date that will be spent judging someone’s intellect and ability to hold a conversation–like wandering around in a park/open space without any particular agenda. My apologies in advance as this idea is sort-of cutesy and has a little Christmas feel in there (sorry, Jew friends). Find a nearby Starbucks & get hot cocoa. Add the peppermint Shnapp’s you purchased earlier. If you’re straight-edge, I’d say go the creme de menthe route except that’s just dumb.

- If the idea of drinking Shnapp’s doesn’t grab you, why not go for wine instead? Pick up a bottle of something relatively inexpensive and go to a park. Or better yet, see if there’s any kind of wine tasting going on in your area. You don’t have to be living in the Napa Valley to enjoy a wine tasting. Plus, some chicks will misinterpret your interest in wine as a hidden way to tell if you are “cultured”. Bonus points!

- Museums are a good date for people you actually enjoy being around and conversing with… one top of one other big bonus: there’s no time limit. Probably not a good first date just because it’s too awesome to waste on just anyone.

And don’t you worry your pretty little heads – I have more e-dates I really did go on to talk about, too.

Which brings me to the next point: please don’t tell me you “like having fun.” Of course you like having fun, everyone likes fun. It’s painful for me to watch that segment of this video but otherwise? Absolutely hilarious.