The Bitch is Back

Guys, I am exhausted. The past month and a half has found me all over the East Coast, and I made my first foray into the Midwest. (Hayyyy Chicago, you be good gurl.) Should we take a little journey to see where I went and how fabulously lost I still am??? BLOKAY, sounds good!

Miami

Gurl. GURRRLLL. Gurl DOWN. 

(Gone. With. The. Wind.)

Have you ever been to Miami? No? Because it's not a real place, not even a little bit. It is the land of beautiful people, topless swimmers, outrageous night clubs, and expensive restaurants. Miami also has the Ke$ha-esque ability to turn any atmosphere into a glitter filled, alcohol infused, parental disappointment worthy party. Of course, all of that being said, the first night that I was there on "vacation," my friends and I promptly fell asleep at 9:30pm and slept until 9:30am. Like they always say, when in Miami.... sleep for 12 hours? 

(I've never been so refreshed and disappointed in myself at the same time. Blarg.)

We spent the next couple of days making up for it by laying by the pool and drinking many a "Bucket-O-Liquor," which was the specialty of the hotel we were staying at. I can honestly say that I feel like I did everything I wanted to do in Miami. It's a ridiculous city that I am glad I visited... but I don't know if I'll go back anytime soon. The one thing I did not do was find love in that place. I realized, unlike most strippers, I do not tend to do as well in climates that require less clothing. I am one of those people that would do really well in a place that involves sweaters and layers, like Canada. (Its aboot time I move further north, EH? I'm done. I swear.) 

DC Pride

Holy crap ballz. Last year, for DC Pride, I drank far too much at brunch and ended up falling asleep at 8pm. I saw some of the parade and ended up with a press-on tattoo. (On. My. Face.) This year I wanted to do Pride the way it was meant to be done. I wanted to remember everything. I wanted to feel the pride of my people. I wanted to enjoy adult beverages. I wanted to attend the parade. I wanted to dance at the gay clubs. I wanted to see the festival. I wanted the weekend to leave me bleeding rainbows. (I said all of those in my head like Veruca Salt. You know, from Willy Wonka.)

(She understands what's important in life. Ain't nobody got time to be good.)

I decided to throw a little pre-parade BBQ for all of my lovely gays. We dabbled with drinks, danced in the heat, and pounded some meat. (Ew, pervs, I meant burgers and hot dogs. Grow up.) The parade was spectacular and over-the-top, like it should be. There were bears on bikes, Mormons in cars, gay boys in underwear, cowboys in ass-less chaps, and Wonder Woman (literally — Linda Carter) leading the parade. The true fun, however, began after the parade and post-survival nap. My friends and I owned the night by pre-gaming at my place and then dancing up a storm at Cobalt, in the heart of the gayborhood. What I wasn't expecting was my lovely departure from classy, upstanding citizen to drunken, dancing floozy. 

(Too soon? Sorry, Reese.)

After a few (many) drinks at the bar, I decided it was time to make my way to the bathroom. Unbeknownst to me, on this simple walk across the bar I would encounter two gentleman friends. One of these gentleman I knew from a previous date, whom you have never heard of. (The date had gone well... I can't jinx that shit!) When I got semi-close, he pulled me in and began to dance with me. I shimmied and shook and maybe even Mac Daddied it up with him a little. Once my confidence was boosted, I realized my bladder had slowly begun to take over my entire body. No matter how much I tried to Vulcan Mind-Meld my bladder into disappearing, I had to abandon my impromptu make-out to take care of nature. 

On my way out of the bathroom, I went a-searchin' for the man of my dreams (for one night only). Instead, what I found was his friend, who decided that it was now his turn to shimmy, shake, and Mac with me. I decided that all this attention was a gift from the Pride gods, and I needed to accept my new fate as the Pride Vixen, otherwise, I would be disappointing the fates. Much to my chagrin, the original shimmy shaker walked up and decided to throw a hissy fit. Unfortunately for me, it was not because I had made out with both of them, rather it was because the both of them... WERE DATING. 

(Mothertruckin' ass dogs.)

Other than assisting in being a homewrecker, the rest of DC Pride went perfectly. I saw Icona Pop and Emeli Sande play the festival, and I took home a new award in the amount of sweat one person can sweat in a 90-minute period. It's really a gift. 

Chicago

I'm not gonna spend a lot of time discussing Chicago. 

NY Pride

DOMA was repealed four days before NY Pride happened. I can say, from the bottom of my heart, I have never cried so much during a parade in my life. (Except for that one time in Disney World. We still don't talk about that.)

The night I arrived in NY, Swifty, her husband, and I made our way downtown to the West Village to go to a gay bar or club. We found ourselves, first, at Pieces, where the bar was completely and totally overcrowded. To our surprise, there was a coat check available at the front of the bar... a coat-check in JUNE. Turns out it wasn't a coat-check at all, it was a CLOTHING-CHECK. That's right: You could check your clothing at the door and walk around in your boxer-briefs, briefs, or JOCK STRAPS. 

We stayed standing for an hour (obvs oogling) before heading to the next bar. We decided to head to Stonewall... yes, of the Stonewall Riot fame. For those of you who know me, I am more than mildly obsessed with social media, so it should come as no surprise to you that I am an avid user of Foursquare. (Because it isn't creepy that someone can track your every move.) Well, I went to check into Stonewall and was surprised to see there was an event I could check into. The event was titled "LESBO GO-GO."

First I felt: 

Then I was all like: 

After I realized it was dancing, I was like: 

(Cause, bitch, I DON'T PLAY with my music)

We rolled into this history-making bar and bee-lined to the upstairs and downed a few drinks. I don't think I have been around that many dancing lesbians ever in my life. It took me a few minutes to get over the fact that I had changed the color of my shirt with my own sweat. (I'm impressive like that.) Just as I was getting over this not-so-secret fabric changing power I have, my friend Nomad (she, like, travels lots, duh), showed up and immediately pulled me up on the stage in front of all the lesbians. Much to my surprise, I danced like my life depended on it. At one point, whilst on stage, I thought I was so impressive I could definitely try out for So You Think You Can Dance... or at least their drunk bar version of the show. 

The weekend only got better from there. Brunching, dancing, and lots of eating ensued. There was the emotional Pride Parade — Edie Windsor was the Grand Marshall of the parade. I got ramotional. It was quite the weekend. 

Match.com

So, over a year after I originally talked about it, I finally took the plunge and purchased a membership to match.com. When I originally dabbled in it, I didn't pay for it and kinda let it hang by the wayside. On Sunday, however, my good lady friend Simba and I had our own little Sunday Funday that ended with buying a SIX-month membership. I don't know how things got so aggressive. 

(THIS IS WHAT MY INSIDES FEEL LIKE ABOUT DATING.)

The six-month membership comes with a guarantee; the site guarantees that if you do not find love within the six months that you paid for, then you get a SECOND six months for free. Because I am half-Jewish, I casually want to not find love and get another six months for free. (Hey, it's a deal! Gimme a break people.) I'll be sure to let you know how it goes. 

Miami: A new meaning to Hot Mess

DC Pride: Politically incorrect and loving it 

Chicago: Shhh

NY Pride: Am I a lesbian now?

Match.com: Jesus, Joseph, and Mary

It's sad when Crazy doesn't phase you

There is a moment when we all feel more desperate than normal, right? I tell myself all the time that everyone is just as desperate as me and we are all in this together like one big happy family. Well all the single people right? Desperate? Do I really keep talking about my desperation? Yup, but why  not just keep the illusion up that I'm not alone and you can all agree with me! COOL thanks, you guys are way better than my imaginary friends from yesteryear (2007).  Well this Christmas Eve tale is focused jusssst around that kind of desperation.

It was November 2010 and I was trying to get myself in to the holiday spirit. I was living at home, sleeping in the same room that I refused to update from high school because, in my true fabulously stubborn nature, I believed I wouldn't be living there much longer. This meant that I got to look at all of my horrible hair styles from the eary 00's (think N'Sync before they were certifiably hot)  

(actually that last statement was blasphemous...they were always hot. except for one of them. Im looking at you Chris Kirkpatrick. You all didn't even know his name...he was the dreads.)

I also got to look at my posters and pictures I cut out from magazines from when I was 16. This was slightly disturbing because, while both the celebs and I have grown up since then...these photos have not. So staring at a 17 year old Jesse McCartney just felt wrong.

It was at this point that I decided to give into this person who had sent me three messages in 24 hours letting me know he was really into my smile and my eyes. This would creep most people out, but when you are looking at 17 year old Jesse McCartney before you go to bed every night, you end up not judging people as much. So I responded to Batshit Crazy and checked out our profiles to see how compatible we were. 

OkCupid let me know that I was a 53% Match with this person, we were 34% friends, and like 45% enemy. Don't ask me how the site does their math or if those three are supposed to add up to 100%, because they never, ever, ever do. Now this would normally send me a-runnin', but as we can see from the above photos and statements...I was feeling needy. After a few messages, Batshit Crazy and I decided to meet up and go to the movies and dinner. Typical date. What. Could. Go. Wrong? HA, I always asked myself that...and yet here I am, writing to you all about the woes of singledom. 

Batshit Crazy called me the day of our date to let me know I would need to pick him up because he didn't have a car. (Red Flag #1) (I have obviously decided to disregard everything OkCupid told me about us not being a real match as red flags.) I decided to go forward with this anyways because for some odd reason I really wanted to see Morning Glory, I think it has to do with the stereotypical gay males obsession with movies about strong females...but HEY thats for my therapist to delve into! 

I drove about 30min to pick up Batshit Crazy from his former stepmothers house. (read that last sentence twice and lemme know how you feel about it) I seem to have a couple issues with this. 1. I drove a crap ton for a person I'd never met. 2. He explained to me that he liked hanging out with his former stepmother, whom his father was married to for 7months, back when he was 3. (read number 2 twice and lemme know how you feel about that). I asked him if his father still spoke with this woman, Batshit Crazy said no...and then said his father didn't know he had found her and was talking to her. (Red Flag  #2)

Ignoring ALLLLL of the signs that the heavenly skies had provided with me on why this date should never have happened, I let Batshit Crazy into my car and drove 25min to the movie theatre. (Red Flag #3) made an appearance almost immediately in the car when he turned to me and said,

"I'm feeling like a durrty boy today" *wink*

I laughed. Boisterously. Loudly. Trying to cover up my fear of what the rest of this date would have in store for me. (Batshit Crazy stared at me as I laughed, because he of course was DEAD serious.) The rest of the drive involved him telling me more about his dysfunctional family, his lack of a home (by choice) (Red Flag #4), and his lack of any real income (Red Flag #5).

We arrived at the movie theatre and I prayed for an earlier time so I could suggest just going straight into the movie. Little Baby Jesus was looking down on me because we were able to get into an earlier time and I said we should just get concession food for dinner...and it worked. *pats self on shoulder for a job well done* *realizes accomplishment isn't that great in the grand scheme of things and is back to a level of self deprecation he is more in tune with* As we walked in the previews began and Batshit Crazy let out a squeal that I have only heard from 11 year old girls when they glimpse a photo of Justin Bieber in the magazine they purchased...which is about Justin Bieber. He turned to me and let me know how he adored movies and hugged me....*shivers* (Red Flag #6)

As soon as we sit down Batshit Crazy grabs my hand and says "I can only watch a movie if I am holding someone specials hand" *wink*.....Ummm what? You can only...what? You must not get out often sir. Unless you lure men in with your incessant messaging and you suggest to all of them that you want to be taken to the movies. Then the only person who is really special is you. Dear SIR you have now made me...confused, lost, and am I feeling a bit of jealousy? The last part concerns me too, don't worry you can judge me. (Red Flag #7)

 The movie is playing and playing and playing....it wasn't a very good movie. Damn you and your infectious smile Rachel McAdams, I would have canceled this date had I known it was so bad. The unthinkable happens about 45min into this never ending movie. I turn to get my drink and as I released my hand from his now moist (love or hate the word...thats what this was) hand, he leans over and plants one on me. This is the sloppiest of the sloppy kisses because I had been ambushed and I also didn't reciprocate the Kirby-esque suction thing he was now doing to my face. I feared for my lips and for the severe PTSD I was going to experience whenever his tight suction grip let loose of my poor face. As he pulled back he looked at me with a smile and said that was the nicest kiss he had had in awhile. Really? REALLY? (Red Flag #8) 

The real kicker comes about 120 seconds post-aggressive gorilla attack when Batshit Crazy looks at me with shear terror and says, 

"I'm not a slut. I don't do this with everyone. I'm not really a durrty little boy"

This grouping of sentences causes my skin to crawl to this day. Let us dissect this like one would dissect a frog in 7th grade Science class. 

1. "I'm not a slut" - you attacked my face with a kiss...you didn't grab at my junk or try to go down on me. I think we can all agree not being a good kisser usually means the OPPOSITE of being a slut. (Red Flag #9)

2. "I don't do this often"- Hard to believe...you're kinda a slut. (Red Flag #10)

3. "I'm not really a durrty little boy"- well thats good because you are 22 years old and far from a little boy. I don't want to know what you mean by durrty but I really think you should take a shower when you get back to your faux-stepmothers home. (Red Flags #11-20)

I ignored his sentence and prayed that a weapon of mass destruction would somehow find its way to the Columbia Mall just so this date would have a better ending than it was probably going to have. After the movie, I ended up driving him home as he told me his plans to move to Northern PA to be near a friend. This is a friend he hadn't really spoken to in a couple years but she has a big house from what he remembers...didn't think she would mind. (Red Flag #21...don't know why Im still counting flags) 

At his faux-stepmothers house he suggested we get together the next day because he has no idea when he will be moving to his best friends house. She just has to call him back so it could be ANY day and I shouldn't lose this opportunity. Manipulation Nation. I told him we'd talk. *spoiler alert: we never talked again* Moral of this story: sometimes you need to listen to your gut and the confusing percentages OkCupid gives you.

Internet Dating: 4

Fabulously Lost: 0

Red Flags: #winning

Dr. Chandler Bing, The Groupon King

The first few months of being on OkCupid was like the first time I learned how to ride a bike. I fell down a lot and bruised myself but it seemed like the most fun thing in the world. (I no longer ride my bike, so I don't know if this is a good sign for me) I went on more dates than a hooker on Park Ave. It became an on going joke with a couple of my friends that all I need is the promise of some good texting and a solid dinner and I'm yours. I said "yes" to every single date I was asked out on. "Desperate? Desperate, party of one?" Ahhh yes that is me, an eager beaver...who isn't a fan of beaver.

Dr. Chandler Bing (his normal name is close to this and I imagined dating Chandler because of that) entered my life thru a slew of well written messages about life and music. He wasn't really my normal type (he was white) and he seemed intent on getting my number, which I was hesitant to do since I had fared so well with giving Stalker Dan my phone number a couple weeks prior. I soon caved when he told me he was working towards being a dentist (I'm half Jewish, so a Doctor is a good find, even in the gay world). We began incessantly texting each other and finding more things about each other and loving it. He was looking for the same thing as me! Love! Long Term Relationship! Cuddling! (we alllll like a good cuddle. gay or straight. Yes we talked about cuddling. Yes it came up before we met each other. Yes as I type that out and it seems weird to me too. I will gladly judge myself on that one)

Dr. Bing finally asked me out. He said he wanted to take me out in Baltimore and have a cute date in Little Italy. swoooooon. How could I not be terribly excited. I announced this to everyone who would listen, I contemplated sending out Save the Dates so people would remember that he and I were going to go out the next week. Everyone awkwardly listened to me as I gushed over a man who I'd never met. "His texts are so endearing. I can tell he is going to be a gentle lover" "No wonder he is going to be a dentist, he spells out all of the words in his text messages" "I can tell he must have excellent bedside manners with his patients, he always sends smiley and winky faces."....and on and on and on I went.

The day finally came where I was to meet my future boyfriend and husband, Dr. Bing. We were going to have a lovely wedding on the water. So excited to tell him all of this. I drove up to this little Italian place in the heart of Baltimore and parked my little car. I had been about 20min early, so I sat in my car and jammed out to Britney Spears, as if going on a date with another man wasn't gay enough. It was just about 7:30 when I got my shnazzed up self out of the car and began the trek to the restaurant. We had decided to meet outside and I kept looking extremely hard at peoples faces, wondering if it was him, if he held true to his photos that were on his profile. 25minutes later I was bored and my dream was fading as he finally showed up completely disheveled and slightly larger than his pictures. I'm no tiny duckling, but I also think my photos are true to form. No need to hide that sir.

We got into the restaurant and sat down and began to talk. His voice was slightly grating, but we ALL aren't perfect, right? He ordered 2 glasses of wine. For. Him. Self. (Strike 1) Then ordered a shrimp appetizer, after I had just gotten finished telling him I was allergic to shrimp. (Strike 2)  Forgiving all of this I tried to talk about the fact that we had some friends in common from college. BOOM. That was the worst thing I could have said. I was forced to listen to how he used to be a drunk RA who didn't care about his residents, he was only doing it to live on campus for free...and see the hot kids as they came to college. (shiver down my spin. Strike 3). Dr. Bing also founded a drinking fraternity at the dentistry school, which, in his words, made him the coolest and most popular guy at the school.

 As if this wasn't enough to win me over, he then started talking about how rich he was going to be. He had already picked out his graduation car that he was giving himself and the type of house he was going to buy. (Strike 4, I'm not the best at baseball but I feel like I shoulda left by now.) The only time I talked about myself, I let him know that I was really into volunteering and interested in nonprofit work. To this day I will never forget his response..."eww. So you do stuff for free? Thats not gonna get you very far in life." (Strike 1,000,000)


I told him I was ready to go and needed to go home. And this is where the zinger comes in...he gets the check and hands the woman a Groupon for the restaurant. When she brings the new check back he hands it to me and says "Hey so since I had the Groupon, you can get the rest of the check right?". . . . WHAT?!?!!? I ordered A glass of wine to your FOUR. My entire SALAD was $13 and your three course meal was $50. HOW is that even remotely okay in your mind DR. Bing?? I thought you were sooo rich. You had money coming out of your ass? You spew coolness...this isn't Bing. This. Isn't. Cool.  I said none of that and instead spent $43 on a dinner I only ate about $15 of. 


As we walked out of the restaurant he shook my hand and said "I guess I won't be getting lucky tonight?" I stared blankly and awkwardly at him until he walked away. Shock and awe.

Internet Dating: 3
Fabulously Lost: 0

There is always a beginning...

So I've been thinking about doing this for awhile and after the weird way the last few months have turned out, I decided what better time than the holidays to start discussing the dating blunders of the gay world. This is my first hand account of Online Dating (yup...I said it...online dating), iPhone Dating (two different things), and the true Mission Impossible (Tom Cruise listen up this is an idea for a hit movie): Finding Mr. Right. 

It was right around this time last year that I decided, along with one of my fav gal pals, Kate, to create an OkCupid profile...after a several months, longer than I'd like to admit, of being single. I filled out all of the questions and put up a profile picture from when I was tan and working out all the time, as opposed to the state I had been in which was pasty white and looking ready for hibernation. I was ready to go with the approval of Kate, and a couple other peoples reassurance that I didn't look/sound like the needy sap I was slowly becoming, I unleashed my fabulously lost self on the world of online dating! 

This wasn't so bad at first, I was getting messages and OkCupid was matching me left and right. What a great feeling to have so many matches. I must be a catch, how could they not want this sexy piece of...ok so I wasn't THAT confident in myself. But for the sake of this story and where I am now, we can say that I was Rico Suave. I began messaging with my soulmate and two other guys at the same time. I went from being lonely and single to having three internet boyfriends who I'd never met. I felt like a million bucks. I told Kate that I was playing the field...no need to get tied down right now. Who the hell was I? Playing the field???? 

My soulmate was 25years old, Egyptian, and lived in his parents basement (not everyone is perfect! Lets not judge! I was living at home too! Shut your face). He played in a band and from his headshot I was swooning. He was my first message on the site and also my first online break up. We went back and forth for a week and then he said he was seeing someone and needed to shut down his profile. I showed him though! I was messaging two other guys. So there. I don't care about you. I hadn't begun planning our 6month anniversary trip to NYC. I hadn't pictured our NYE kiss. Nope. sorry bout it. 

I moved on from him to my first stalker, Stalker Dan. He will appear periodically throughout this blog, much like he does in my life. Stalker Dan was a 29 year old teacher in Baltimore who had a tendency to go out in the middle of the week and show up to teach hungover. These are all things he told me thru messages and I continued to chat with him. He asked for my number and I willingly gave it to him, this would be the first and last time I was so flippant with something I hold so dear to me. Stalker Dan proceeded to call me every day for two weeks. Random times, random thoughts until I stopped answering. Then came the text messages. So many text messages. Daily text messages about nothing and everything ranging from 

"Hey. I'm late to work. Wanna make me later ;)" 

"No I'm good. I have to work at a normal time, sorry." 

"Hey, Im wasted" 

"Cool. Good for you"

"Want to go get some drinks" 

"No its 3pm and I am still at work...arent you?" 

"No. Im a teacher this is normal drinking time."

You get the jist. And just for the record I am completely okay with getting drunk at 3pm on any given day...just not with my crazy internet boyfriend. Stalker Dan tired me out from internet dating. I was worn out but not ready to give up. To this day I still get a random text from him every once in awhile....I do end up meeting him in person, that will be for later. Two weeks in and I have had 2 full on relationships with heartbreak. 

Internet Dating: 2

Fabulously Lost: 0