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.

Usually I try to stay out of my dude friends’ business; they tend to date the most insane girls ever and for the most part I let them because after three weeks they clue in & dump ‘em. Except one of my friends didn’t clue in, and I asked him to write about it a bit now that they’ve had a messy breakup laced with internet drama and an airing of each other’s dirty laundry. Which means of course I invited him to air his frustrations via my blog, because that’s what friends do!

Right?

Am I wrong to think that steady sex is an important factor in a successful relationship? Everyone’s definition of “steady sex” is way different. For me it means daily, or at least 4 to 5 times a week. So, if that’s the case, why did I spend a year with someone who only fucked me a couple of times a month?

When we first met, it was a few times a week. I thought nothing of it because our sexual chemistry was great. I figured she’d just get to a point where she felt super comfortable and then I’d tear it up a few times a day… then it started to dwindle.

After a few months it was once a week, then once every two weeks. Every time we fucked, I wasn’t supposed do anything other than just missionary. When I said “turn over” or something, I got the “I don’t want to” or a “noooo, I’m lazy.” Really, this bitch would not let me express my artistic sexuality. After six months I asked myself, “Why am I jerking off so goddamn much? I have a bitch in my bed every night. There should be lips, snatch or bootyhole around my dick.”

I brought it up with the gal and I got the typical “I’m tired,” “I work too much,” “I’m just not in the mood” excuses. I worked far more hours than she did and came home tired. but I made sure my dick was ready for anything.

Of course, this turned into an argument which ended with some make-up sex…but again, the day after it was as dry as Ashy Larry. I was concerned because we had this vacation coming up and if I didn’t get crazy pussy for the money I shelled out, I was going to be super pissed. I just wanted to be intimate with the person I loved, you know?

So there we are in a foreign country, staying in a 5-star hotel overlooking a lake. There was something she kept calling “scenery”, wild animals running about and all kinds of shit chicks appreciate. I dropped money on expensive dinners, souvenirs, tattoos, etc. every day. Yet each night ended early with me wondering what her fucking problem was.

The last night we’re there, I am waiting to unload a monster nut and as I’m trying to initiate some intimacy she tells me she’s exhausted. I was pissed. We got back home the next day and I laid on the guilt about her not fucking me on this trip. As she was working on making it up to me, I made sure to “accidentally” cum on her face. Monster load in her eye. It was classic and I managed to make my “I’m sorry” believable while not smiling… it was fucking hard. She was lucky so many of her rat-fink friends were around during this trip, or I would have gotten my fuck on elsewhere.

Month 7 came and went without even a game of “just the tip.” She insisted that I was not the problem, but I was becoming “overly sexual” to which I replied, “IF YOU DIDN’T HOLD OUT ON THE PUSSY, YOU WOULDN’T BE SO IRRITATED BY ME TRYING TO FUCK YOU ALL THE TIME.”

I gave up after this… over the span of summer to winter we fucked maybe 10 times. Each time was like the first time I lost my virginity all over again. I didn’t even know what to do or how to react during the times my dick was in her mouth (which was even more limited than penetration). There was even a rare moment where we had sex two days in a row. This may sound pathetic, but trust me, if you’re not getting enough pussy, you’ll remember each and every time you got your dick wet.

When you suspect something, you suspect something… I went through her phone. Shitty move, but something was up. There were several texts to one of her girlfriends, the worst one read “I know what you mean. I’m already thinking what it’d be like to bone somebody who isn’t John Doe.”

John Doe being me, of course.

“What did I just read? Did this bitch just say she wanted to fuck other people?” I said to myself. Not only was she saying she didn’t want me anymore, but she was talking about having sex! I brought it up, only to learn she was “confused” and felt weird about us but didn’t want to break it off. I, stupidly, didn’t tell her to go fuck herself right then and there. The next month was really just a prolonged ending-she moved out and got her own place. We were still together, but broke up Christmas night because I’ve “changed.” A bullshit reason, but I was actually relieved.

Now I miss the convenience of having someone there (rarely) but that’s it. I know at some point I’ll find myself a bad bitch who is willing to do freaky shit with me whenever I want. Before I go I have to ask: What is wrong with these broads who don’t want to fuck on the regular? Ladies, if you love your man and he loves you back then FUCK HIM. Fuck him often, fuck him well. Do freak shit that will keep him around forever. Guys, if you’ve been in it with a broad for a long time and she’s not fucking you as much as you want, you need to leave that bitch. There are freak ho’s out there that will do it a lot more than the one you got.

I’m so proud of you, buddy.

Please note the date/timestamps on this guy’s messages. I have never replied, and he never catches the hint. I’d also like to state that while I have not posted this particular specimen’s username to protect his anonymity, making your username on a dating website the same as the person who coined the term “hyphy” when you’re pasty as a motherfucker is NOT doing you any favors in my book.

[1:45:49 am]DUDE: hi
[1:58:21 am]DUDE: what’s up cutie?
[2:04:20 am]DUDE: you are a hottie
[2:05:02 am]DUDE: I’d love to chat
[2:09:39 am]DUDE: care to chat?
[2:45:28 am]DUDE: damn you are so hot
[3:09:16 am]DUDE: I’d love to meet a hot girl like you

Next day
[5:00:25 am]DUDE: fuck your hot
[5:01:01 am]DUDE: you scream fucking hottness

Sometimes I wonder what it’d be like to Photoshop all my tattoos out of photos. Mostly because it would allow me to skip on all of the messages below & any variation thereof.

• love the tats
• Subject: I’m way curious,
  I saw in one of your pictures a hint of a tattoo on your knee.
  Am I just trippin out or was that for real?
  What is it of? Where was it on the pain scale? How long did it take?
  From what I saw it’s wicked cool.
  Sorry bout the bagillion questions haha.
• Subject: Knee tat
  How’d the tattoo on the knee feel?
• Subject: Hey
  like the tats
• Subject: Tats!
  hey where did you get your ink done at? i like the job that has been done!
  and on a side note i think your a little cuttie
• Subject: Hey
  Hey your tattoos are really cool. Message back if you want.
• Subject: Hey
  Yours are just sexy as hell. Usually I don’t many women pull it off all that well but you sure do. You seem cool and I like your stow wanna chat?

I think we can safely say that using a subject line of “hey” might be indicative that within the message is a comment about my tattoos & a marginally poor grasp of the English language. Yes?

HIM: I think u are so beautiful and I love your profile. Sorry i don’t like puting pics on [dating website]. My Myspace is [link removed] Pics are on there…
ME: Why the fear of putting photos on [dating website I am regretting signing up for]?
HIM: lol pretty much I dated a couple girls from [dating site] and neither of them turned out very well, and I was really tired of getting messags all the time and feeling obligated to respond nicely and turn them down. I very nice guy and just not responding to someone isn’t very easy for me to do, like I said I’m way too nice . So I figure I can browse with no pic’s and not have to deal with that part of it…. So I got a new account. And on top of that my ex is kind of a stalker, I met her on here and was with her for like 6 months.

Did you guys read all that? Then we’re both clear on why this guy never heard back from me, right? Good. Moving on…

Subject: The female version of me?

You are a very interesting character who seems like a cynical, and cantankerous individual. Probably smarter than me as well.

I could only imagine you as the girl at a house party in the corner with a case of PBR laughing at the assholes in the middle with glow sticks while the DJ play’s the worse techno music of the century. Laughing even harder when you see a girl putting her hand down a guy’s pants while he gropes her tits. Later to laugh even harder when you go out for a smoke (simply assuming you smoke) if not for a breath of fresh air to see the same girl through a window with a group of people outside it taking video, as her boney ass get’s pounded doggy style by the guy she was groping her self.

That’s just how I imagine you though.. may I ask Miss are you an internet troll?

Buddy… you just failed on like 8 levels. Might I suggest that you don’t compare yourself (an overweight dude in chick pants with a lot of awful tattoo work) to the Internet’s #1 glamazon? I know I’m not God’s gift to men–quite the opposite, really–but I’m a couple rungs up the ladder from you in all the important categories.

Second, I used to be one of those glowstick-toting motherfuckers in high school. That’s right, Julene was a fucking candy raver AND I DON’T HAVE TO APOLOGIZE FOR IT. To be fair, I probably would laugh at the people groping on each other in public but I’d certainly hope anyone over age 16 would feel the same way. There’s nothing attractive about over the top PDS’ (Public Displays of Sluttiness). However, I don’t smoke and would probably tell a bunch of dudes filming that shit they should look into the legalities before making such a recording. Not to mention I don’t care about some chick getting down with her bad self. Slutty chicks make me look better, nah’mean?

Oh look, I saved possibly the best for last!

i read ur profile and think ive found someone who is finally worth a good conversation….i hate women who are stupid with no common sense…but u seem to have some things figured out that the rest dont…i would like to get to know u if thats cool….

Don’t get me wrong, I think most chicks I’ve encountered are at least mildly retarded. However prefacing your message to me with “I hate women” in any way generally makes me think you have a deep-seated hatred of all women that was possibly initiated by something weird your mother did to you as a child. Dahmer, anyone?

If this wasn’t amusing for you, I apologize. I giggle-snorted my way through pasting all these excellent attempts at wooing me into WordPress. Have no fear, there’s more than a handful of dates I actually did go on that I will get to writing about as soon as I figure out which dudes don’t check this site, so I can avoid receiving any more hateful “you think you’re better than me, bitch?!” emails.

You think I’m joking? Here’s what nearly $7,000 can get me.

For starters, I get to choose my ideal male’s body type. I’ve never been into overly ripped guys, so let’s start with option B.

With three options for the facial structure I’m having a really hard time picking one. After all, they all have a bit too much going on with how square their jaw is. Don’t worry, I eventually settled on “Michael”, considering he looks the least mentally challenged out of the bunch.

Add in fair skin, because I’m not sure which of the other options to select… along with gray eyes and no “hair stubble” and it looks like I’m well on my way to the perfect man. I even get to choose that my ideal boyfriend will never have facial hair. I am so excited to never feel like my face has been thoroughly abused by sandpaper again! But that’s not all! Oh hell no, there’s even further specifications to be made my friends!

I mean, how often does a girl get to choose what size penis she wants her man to have? I’m going to pick up one of the large option (I get to be a superficial jerk now and again too, guys) but I will definitely make sure it’s the detachable version in case I have a downsized–or upsized!–day in the near future. No point in making my fully customizable man stuck with a penis of my choosing forever!

Taking it a step further, I would prefer to have my man complete with some neatly trimmed brunette pubic hair. $100 extra dollars well spent, I say!

For another $75 extra I can throw on hair in style M02 (translation: scenester-hipster chic styling) and viola!

My dream boyfriend is now a reality! The total cost of this babe is a mere $6,674 USD. Shipping is free, that’s a $500 savings! So I think my real question is, how much overtime am I going to have to put in somewhere to make sure I never need “real” man again? (And we’re using that term loosely, for the moment.)

Look at that rugged, slightly aged but still attractive face of his! (If you’re a straight male or a lesbo, I apologize. Just trust me on this.) I realized part of the crush is based on his character in House but I hardly see that as a problem. I mean, you can totally ask an actor to portray the same part they do on a daily basis for cash in the bedroom… right?

This last photo I felt the need to throw in here because hell, I’ve never seen someone less stoked on winning some metal shit to put on their mantle in my life. Then again, it’s just a Golden Globe. Those aren’t really all that exciting.

But I figured you guys might get some LULZ (not LOLZ, as I covered previously) if I shared with you a few sweet gems from the men that I’ve dated. No names or photos, but hilarious photos courtesy of Google image search with suffice.

	Nothing like a woman annoyed by your small-fry (topped with childish antics) to rat you out on SorryMom!
Once upon a time I thought seriously tortured yet brilliant souls were deep & exciting. That was fun until the voices in his head told him that I had to go… but we could still bang while he was in hot pursuit of a new girlfriend. Seriously, I cannot make shit like this up.
	It’s one thing to know your hood-style boyfriend has been arrested before. It’s quite another to have to watch him get arrested at 8am for multiple felonies in your PJ’s. Thanks for that sweet day of dealing with the sheriff’s office and bail bondsmen, dude.
I don’t know what your speech impediment was technically considered, but hearing you call me your “wittew swut pwincess” once was more than enough.
	I didn’t think I needed to card guys I met in bars… apparently I thought wrong. He was forced to reveal his true age (17) when he realized he had forgotten his fake ID he was going to use to buy himself a pack of cigarettes. Astounded, I told him he needed to catch a ride home from the Starbucks I was about to abandon him at. His mom rolled up in her mini-van about 10 minutes later.
I woke up and realized that the lisp you had the night before was not, in fact, a joke. Live and learn, I guess.

There’s a small smackeral of SM-qualified shorts I’m sure amused at least a few of you. I am seriously obsessed with that site. The kind of money and advertising power “Mom” now has at her fingertips is absolutely amazing. It just goes to show what the internet can allow you to do once you find a “need” that nobody had previously addressed. Actually, I remember a site from quite a few years ago called dontdatehimgirl.com that was a very similar premise, except it was like a Myspace profile and there was no big black bar to protect the potentially not-so-innocent. I think I prefer the newer, shorter version to be honest. I think the real question is how many of you have found either yourselves or someone you know on this site?

We live in more of a pussy generation now, where everybody’s become used to saying, “Well, how do we handle it psychologically?” In those days, you just punched the bully back and duked it out. Even if the guy was older and could push you around, at least you were respected for fighting back, and you’d be left alone from then on.

I’m sorry, but these days men are not men–nothing sounds more appealing than being an “oppressed” woman during the 1940′s. The grass is always greener, I guess.

It’s no secret I was absolutely in love with AFI, and I’ll admit I’m still a totally typical fangirl when it comes to Davey. Except now he does things like this:

And you know what? I’m not down with the girl pants/eye makeup combo. Sounds more like Madison‘s bag than mine. ;] Seriously, she always thinks dudes with pretty hair are attractive and it’s making me very concerned.

Then again what would I know, I want to fuck angsty fools like Henry Rollins. Far be it from me to judge, right?

1.) Be willing to tolerate my exceptionally bad taste in music.
To give you the heads-up, this may include listening to any of the following: crooners like Amy Winehouse, senseless rap music like Lil Wayne, foreign quasi-obscure punk like Millencolin, shit that I have to look up the lyrics to like Dance Gavin Dance, drum & bass to help me feel youthful, and Lucero because I’m just midwestern enough that I’m practically required to listen to them.

2.) Do not own/wear girl pants.
I’m sorry, but usually the guys in girl pants are skinnier than I am and that will give me some kind of weird complex. I’m too old to develop an eating disorder or become a health fanatic. My fat means I can go an extra week or two without a steady supply in food. However this will never be a problem because…

3.) No more starving artists.
Can’t provide? Cannot wed and/or bed me. I’m sorry, I don’t expect to live like a queen but you should be able to go halfsies at all time. Of course, I’d really prefer if I find a male outfitted with the rugged need to be a provider. Real men are breadwinners. (Feminism is not for me, obviously.)

4.) Please do not already have or intend on making babies.
I can’t say I’m 100% sure that I never want to bear children, but now is not the time in my life to be breeding. I want adventures and to not have to share my (future) husband(s) with some screaming, obnoxious bundle. Cats are a perfectly acceptable alternative.

5.) Have the rare ability to keep your dick in your pants.
You wouldn’t think that would be so hard to come by, but it is. And no, that isn’t just because I live in California.n It’s gotten very old to constantly have reason to believe you’re fucking someone else. It’s especially awful because more often than not those “hunches” turn out to be right.

6.) Please be able to cook–WELL.
Secret: I cannot cook to save my life. I can bake, but that doesn’t help much when I want dinner and the best I can do is a PB&J. I’m not even capable of making a grilled cheese sammich without burning it. The survival of our taste buds rests in your hands! (Also, this is essential to the maintenance of my camel-like lovehandles.)

7.) For the love of all that is holy, do not be submissive to me.
I’ll be the first to tell you that I’m a complete asshole. You have to be able to fight with me without getting offended–but without letting me win. Don’t let me push you around or I will take advantage of you without realizing it. Having balls is perfectly acceptable; please use them!

8.) Be an awesome lay.
I can’t marry you if I’m not constantly trying to figure out ways to get you to fuck me in inappropriate places. The extent of our marital bliss is directly linked to my vaginal satisfaction. Period.

9.) No emotionally incapacitated twats.
I am female, and I am emotional. There’s a whole 5-8 days where I might tell you I hate you. Just give me chocolate, fuck me in the shower, and hold when I’m crying over absolutely nothing. This isn’t rocket science.

10.) Please do not be something I wouldn’t want to tell my mother about.
This is a multi-level requirement. Be physically attractive enough that I will not be too ashamed to post pictures of us together on my public Myspace. Don’t be terribly socially awkward. Have an internal censor when we’re around my family. Under no circumstances tell your friends about what happened after I had my eighth shot of Jack Daniel’s and dragged you home.

There! I only want 10 things out of my future mate–what a puny list in comparison to most women I know. If you or someone you know fits the profile of my future husband, please let me know. From there we can exchange photos and discuss living arrangements! And for the record, I’m kinda cute so this list of demands really shouldn’t be that off-putting.

The normal girl is usually extremely anxious to please her father. She feels in him the forerunner of the desired elusive male–the girl forms her ideals of romance and of men from her association with her father.

For years I have wondered what it is I’ve seen in the males I’ve found myself dating. All are prone to lying, cheating, and somehow tricking me into funding such behavior (be it financially or by giving some signal that what they were doing was acceptable). But now that my father is revealed for what he truly is–a shady character spending his time pouring his energy into stupid internet bullshit instead of his relationship with his family… everything is clear to me. I spent years wondering how it was I came across so many horrible boyfriends and love interests when my father was (in my mind) an upstanding individual that put his family first and loved his wife wholeheartedly. I believe there was a point in time where yes, that was an appropriate way of defining my dad.

Five years ago that man went into hibernation, which I find to be no coincidence when this is about the time when my truly flawed choices in partners began. The man I know now is incapable of accepting responsibility for his part in my parents’ now-failed relationship. His behavior is so purely adolescent and selfish that it comes as little surprise that my parents are now on the brink of a very ugly divorce.

Around the time I was 18 or 19 I had to choose between being there for my family during serious illness and pursuing my own future plans; I chose my family. At the time I was able to dismiss the fact that I was giving up so much: going to a “real” college to pursue my degree, losing almost all of my friends since I was constantly monitoring a sick person & looking after my younger brother, having to take a low-paying job and move back in at home so that I could have a schedule flexible enough to have to stay home for days on end at the drop of a hat. I did all of this because your family is supposed to be the one thing you can absolutely count on no matter what. My family didn’t give up on me when I was getting into legal trouble, on the brink of expulsion, and suffering from substance abuse problems in my youth–what kind of person would that make me if I bailed ship when they needed me?

Right now I think I may have made the wrong decision.

All along I have been seeking out men just like my father, I just didn’t realize what kind of “man” (we’re using that term loosely here) my father is/was. It’s not that I didn’t recognize that I was dating jerks, more that I didn’t make the mental connection that these men I was dating were every bit as childish in their behavioral patterns as my father. What frightens me now that I have come to terms (or at least acknowledged) these similarities is the thought that I will continue to seek out these infantile excuses for full-grown providers. I will go on looking for positive qualities in people incapable of fulfilling the responsibilities associated with the role I mentally assign them to.

Now I lay in bed alone at night and wonder if I will marry a man like my father that will wind up wounding me like my mother.