Quick Rant: You Gotta Put The "Friend" In Boyfriend

You know, when we hear the word "boyfriend," we think of a sweet guy who brings you homemade chicken soup when you're sick, who surprises you with flowers just because, and who is so attentive that it makes your girlfriends gag (or seethe with jealousy).

But, nothing rattles our cage more than when a boyfriend starts acting like a dick. He's dodging your phone calls, he's being vague about his weekend plans, and he's cranky, like, ALL THE TIME. You know, two-thirds of the word "boyfriend" is "friend," which is weird because this guy is acting anything but friendly. Maybe it's a phase. Maybe he's just been stressed with work. Whatever it is, it's frustrating and it gets old fast.

We think that girls should revoke the word "boyfriend" when a guy starts behaving like this and replace it with a more accurate word to describe his role: a Bone Zoner. There's no illusion of friendship, just bone zoning. It's a subtle demotion in status that your friends will pick up on. Because at this point, bone zoning is all he's good for so you might as well call him out on it.

And, let's be honest, just saying the phrase, "bone zone," gives you more of a giggle than this sad sack of a dude has in a while (and no, occasionally repeating dialogue from Will Ferrell's movies doesn't count as being funny).

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Tip Our Hats: Guys Who Are Pretty Much A Big Deal In Their Subgenre

• Walking down South Street and seeing a teenager wearing your band's t-shirt
• Your non-fiction book about baseball was published by an independent press
  
• An art gallery is going to feature your paintings
  
• Pitchfork gave your band a review higher than 6.9
  
• Your film was screened at a local film festival and previewed with an embedded YouTube clip on Philebrity
  

What do these events have in common? They're all pretty big deals in your microcosmic scene but anyone in the "normal" world wouldn't get what the fuss is about. It's hard to explain to our co-workers what our artistic, creative boyfriends do. "Well, he's in a band," falls flat. "Well, he's an artist," feels nebulous. When we tell them about your accomplishments in your subbaculture, it barely raises an eyebrow, even though we know that what you did was pretty freakin' awesome.

So, guys who are pretty much a big deal in your subgenre, we tip our hats to you. No, my mom has never heard of your band and no, my grandma won't be impressed with your killer psychedelic '60s DJ night at the Lost Bar, but we think it's pretty cool that you are king of your tiny scene.

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Tip Our Hats: Hot Foreigners And Their Adorable Emails in Broken English

We at Shmitten Kitten have zero tolerance for poor grammar, especially in "ur" text messages. However, you get a free pass if you are a hot foreigner trying to stay in touch with us from thousands of miles away and across a language barrier. Here's an email I just received from a particularly dashing Czech student I met while teaching English in Prague. I've kept all of his typos and misspellings in tact for full effect.

Hallo Sweet Lora!

Is is a long time, when I have not written you. I have to apologize for it. How are you recent time? I have not had time for my hobbies since the sex months. I am too busy and tired. I am going to participate again conversation course of englich. I hope you will teach us one more. I am looking forward to you like teacher.

Have good day.

With kind regrads,
you pupil
Vaclav Kubelka

Damn, I wish Philly had "sex months." Maybe as a city we should look into it. But, see what we mean? How cute is this email? So, hot foreigners who send us adorable emails in broken English, we tip our hats to you. We just wanna pinch your cheeks through our computer monitors.

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Tip Our Hats: Carving Our Initials Into A Tree

Maybe we're feeling romantic here, but we just wanted to gush about how rad it is when a guy carves your initials into a tree. This simple gesture is as old skool and romantic as splitting a vanilla milkshake with two straws. Except, unlike a milkshake, your tree testimony has a low-impact permanence. It's like if he got a tattoo with your name on someone else's skin, but in a sweet, woodsy way. And, carving your initials linked by a plus sign with a heart around it is pretty much the only romantic thing a guy can do with a Leatherman.

Somewhere out in woods of Highland Park, IL, there is a tree carved with my initials in it, along with the initials of my high school sweetheart. It's crudely done and looks more like a guy scratched it into the bark with his fingernail than with a sharp implement, but it's all mine. I haven't thought about that tree in years, but now that it am in this post, it's strangely comforting. Sorry, didn't mean to get all Shel Silverstein on you there.

So, to all those guys put their Leathermans (Leathermen?) to good use, we tip our hats to you. We'll be sure to carve this into the next tree we see: SK + TC = TOP (Shmitten Kitten + Tree Carvers = Tip Our Hats)

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Unscientific Poll: What's Your Turn-off Trifecta?

We asked our Twitter peeps what their biggest turn-off trifecta is and we've been amused by the responses. So far, our favorites are: doesn't like onion rings, has tribal tattoos, favorite movie is "Norbit," is obsessed with mainstream sports and watching them on a 450" TV, tries to force feed me shots, talks during movies, considers shopping a hobby or pastime, hates the city, and orders mild wings. Could you imagine if this was all wrapped up in one person? We'd vote for them to leave the city.

As a Web site, our collective turn-off trifecta is:

• Wearing socks with sandals
• Using bad grammar
  
• Was in a fraternity and talks about it all the time
  

My personal turn-off trifecta is:

• Owning a snake (or has a snake tattoo.) Really, anything having to do with reptile enthusiasm is not gonna fly.
  
• Being bald. Balding is ok, but full-on Michael Stipe-ish bald isn't for me.
  
• Eats lots of mayo.
  

What's yours? Leave your turn-off trifecta in the comments section. Big ups to Courtney for coining the term.

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This Week: Wedding Wincing

Spring is here and you know what that means: weirdos coming out of the woodwork to converge at Rittenhouse Square Park, long lines for Rita's Water Ice, and weddings galore. Here at Shmitten Kitten HQ, this is an uncomfortable season. We're still trying to land first dates while our fellow gal pals have somehow landed soulmates and they are forcing us to participate in all of their over-the-top, mushy festivities. For the single girl, weddings represent everything we loathe--except free food and alcohol. Honestly, we kinda love that part.

To help get you through wedding season, we've compiled a few tips as well as some of our own horror stories of worst dates, slurred toasts, sloppy dancing, one night stands, wardrobe malfunctions, crazy crying brides, and "always a bridesmaid never a bride" moments.

This past wedding weekend for me and my friends included three fist fights, one arrest, two break-ups, three hook-ups, one girl cursing off the bride and an alcoholic aunt puking in the bathroom before dinner was even served; it was a blast! During the middle of one ceremony, my best guy friend texted me: "Wow, this is an incredible trainwreck" as the bride's brother started yelling/falling off the altar drunk when the couple were making their vows. That doesn't even include the bachelorette weekend antics! You get the gist.

Do you have any wedding horror stories? Get at us at hi@shmittenkitten.com. We'll say "I do" to publishing the funniest ones.

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Wedding Wincing: "Dowutchyalike"

One of my favorite weddings ever was my buddy Martin's wedding two years ago. I went to college with Martin so his wedding was a chance to reconnect with my old classmates. One person I was NOT excited to see was Billy, a cocky, smug, Texan-bred blond. We had a falling out in college because he didn't return a record player I'd lent him. The whole ordeal culminated with me calling him an asshole; things were chilly between us ever since.

Last I heard, he ran for mayor of a small town in Texas and lost. Even that story annoyed me because he was the type of guy to run for political office just so he'd have a quirky story to tell a beautiful woman at a cocktail party. His Southern accent made my skin crawl.

Imagine my surprise when he greeted me with a warm hug the night before Martin's wedding. My former arch-enemy had extended an olive branch! He told me how he'd been stationed in Peru as a reporter for the Associated Press. He regaled me with stories about Peruvian life, bribing local officials and how he met Hugo Chavez for a story he worked on. Every time we finished a round of drinks, he'd inch his chair closer to mine.

His Southern drawl, which used to grate, now put me at ease. My eyes twinkled every time he called me "darlin'." After a particularly funny story, he smacked his glass down on the table and announced what a shame it was that we didn't get a chance to reconcile sooner. I didn't resist when he took my hand as we walked out into the Brooklyn night air. There was a spark.

We stayed up all night, talking, giggling and kissing. When the morning light streamed in, we rubbed our eyes and got ready for Martin's wedding along with the rest of the house. As I took my seat, I saw Billy. He was in a tux stationed at the front of the room. My God, I had just (inadvertently) hooked up with the best man! Did I win a prize? It felt like I'd hit the 500 point hole in skeeball. It felt like I'd found the afikomen of wedding hookups (that was a joke for the Jews out there.) Go me!

So, what did I do with this new found glory? Well, I hooked up with another guy obviously. As an added bonus, he was staying in the same house where Billy and I were staying. In my defense, it was my longtime crush, Joey. This adorable Michael J. Fox look-a-like had turned my head for, like, a decade. I even liked him when he went through his weirdo beardo phase two years after college. He had never expressed interest in me so I'd given up on us ever locking lips. When I saw a glimmer of hope, I had to pounce on it.

Well, Joey made a move and I didn't hesitate. As we left the reception, I looked back over my shoulder to see Billy shaking his head in disbelief. I squeezed Joey's hand tighter. Sorry, former arch-enemy! I had the chance to make out with someone on my Kiss Wishlist who didn't live in Peru.

We all went back to the house and I felt bad when I heard Billy's voice through the walls. At 7am, I scrawled a quick note on a napkin thanking my hosts and caught the first bus back to Philly. The thought of seeing both Joey and Billy over breakfast bagels was a little too awkward for me to bear.

The moral of the story: there is no moral. It's a wedding! As Digital Underground wisely sang, "Dowutchyalike!"

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Wedding Wincing: The Official Shmitten Kitten Wedding Survival Guide

Congrats, you've been invited to a wedding! Oh, you aren't pumped that both acquaintances and strangers alike will judge you and your life decisions as you show up alone to this day celebrating other people's true love? Buck up, soldier. Follow our guidelines and come cake-time, you'll feel like you've won the fun lottery. Let's start with what you should do:

• DO pounce on an old flame--or any moderately hot guy, for that matter. You're at a wedding wearing a nice dress and heels; you basically get a free pass to act like a prisoner on parole. No judgment here. Besides, you are probably aren't ever gonna see this guy again. And, it's pretty novel to make out with a moderately hot dude in a tux. It's like being in a James Bond movie or hooking up with a waiter at a nice restaurant.
  
  
• DO dance to corny songs that the deejay spins. Prepare to boogie to Kool and the Gang, "Mambo #5" and the "Macarena." Go with the flow on this.
  
  
• DO go alone to a wedding. It's not gonna be weird. If anything, you'll meet more people because you'll be untethered. You'll get, like, five new random Facebook friends by the time the whole affair is over, guaranteed.
  
  
• DO kick some game to the bartender. Go back to the buffet table for seconds. Run with the wolves here.

Ok, so you're out dancing to Kool and the Gang by yourself, winking at the waitstaff and giving your card to the girl who said that she liked your dress. Sweet. But, don't get too cocky because there are some obstacles you need to avoid.

• DON'T flash your boobs to the camera. Yes, it'll seem funny three martinis in, but once they get the proofs developed, you'll just make the bride and groom cringe for even inviting you. We speak from experience on this one, guys.
  
  
• DON'T dirty dance with a member of either the bride or groom's family; you'll never live it down. I'm still being razzed about grinding on my best friend's cousin at her sister's wedding in 2003. Like the 9/11 eagle with a tear running down its eye, her family will never let me forget it.
  
  
• DON'T hit on the groom before the wedding. Don't tell him that he would be a better match with you and that his bride always seemed kinda of bitchy. Really, I should write this one down on my hand.

See? Follow our rules and you'll be doing so much schmoozin' and boozin' that you won't even remember how you can barely nail down a second date while your peers are lockin' in their soulmates. Oh, that sounds depressing. Well, at least you don't have to write a pile of thank you cards like they do. That's something, right?

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Wedding Wincing: Flyin' Solo

For the first time in six years, I went dateless to a wedding and was a little nervous at being so obviously single. One of the groomsmen at the wedding was an older, popular guy I had a mega crush on in high school. We had made out once before but I hadn't seen him in years. I caught his eye as he was walking down the aisle and his face lit up. He was obviously stoked to see me, as he didn't know I was going to be there. This will be a great night! Or, so I thought.

After about two dozen moments of bashful eye contact during the ceremony, he finally swaggered over to chat me up. Or should I say, he stumbled over: My dream dude of the evening was WASTED. This normally would have been okay with me, 'cause that's the whole point of weddings, right? But this was about 30 seconds after the ceremony ended, before the reception even started. I'd say he had about five solid hours of drinking under his belt by the time the "I do's" were said.

He slumped his sweaty arm around my shoulder, nearly knocking me over (he'd also gained a solid 60 lbs since I last saw him.) After slurring his speech in a 5-minute attempt at whiskey-breathed conversation, he loudly announced to the couple next to me that he had hooked up with me before and that he would do so again tonight, then burst out laughing and attempted to kiss me, but instead just licked my cheek. So much for a fun flirtatious evening with this dude!

I quickly excused myself to the safety of my other single girlfriends. I couldn't help but muse to myself how funny it was that I ever found this dude attractive. I watched him slosh around the dance floor, spilling wine as he electric-slided from girl to girl, all equally repulsed by him as he vigorously pumped his fist to Journey. I decided then that I would rather go dateless to any wedding then ever chance bringing a date as "classy" as he was. Cheers to flying solo!

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Quick Rant: "Don't Think Of Me As Your Boyfriend"

So, let me get this straight: you want to talk to me every day, go on dates with me, and smooch but--God forbid--you don't want me to think of you as my boyfriend? Huh.

Well, how about this: those seven little words you just uttered are making me feel like I'm in some shitty rom-com where I'm the neurotic Kate Hudson-y girl and you're the ragtag Matthew McCoughney character who can't get his shit together. (I've never watched any of those movies, I gleaned all of that just from watching the previews.)

I always thought that commitmentphobes were the stuff of Cosmo cover taglines and Dr. Phil show topics; I never thought it was something I'd have to deal with, like contracting scurvy or having a medical exam that requires me to turn my head and cough. But, your refusal to commit is turning me into one of those girls that hovers in the relationship advice section at Barnes and Noble and consults multiple horoscopes about our (obviously doomed) "love forecast." I'm overanalyzing every interaction we have, trying to figure out if I'm acting like a friend or a girlfriend. It's maddening and frankly, I resent it.

Ok, I won't think of you as my boyfriend. I'll just think of you as the guy who wasted my time. *rolls eyes and blows bangs off forehead*

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Dear Shmitten Kitten: A Recession Confession

Dear Shmitten Kitten,

I've read your site for a while and I was hoping you could help me out. You see, I am unemployed. I feel like no girl would ever wanna go out with me because I'm broke. I can barely afford a PBR for myself, let alone a pretty girl. So, am I doomed to be single forever or what?

Signed,
A Broke Bro

Broke Bro,

Listen, I know we rag on poor guys, but the truth is that we couldn't care less about the size of your wallet. Not to sound too cliche, but as long as you make us feel happy, safe, and beautiful, you are basically in. If you make us laugh so hard that we pop a button, we'll totally keep you around.

But, there's a correct way to be a broke boyfriend. And, when we say "broke," we assume that you are a college-kid kind of broke, i.e. you at least own a cell phone and a computer. If you don't have those staples, you're gonna need Johnny Depp's looks combined with the Dalai Lama's personality. If you do not have that winning combo, then here are some free ways to woo us:

• Thinking about us is free. Send us funny texts with good grammar and/or text us just to say good morning.
• Cook us dinner. It doesn't have to be fancy; pasta is fine.
• Take us out to house parties and friends' houses to hang out. It doesn't get any free-er than that.
• Buy us cheap wine and cheap beer to share. We're not too fussy. And, if you get the first round, we'll pick up the second.
• Make us music mixes and burn us CDs of bands you think we'd like.
• Get us on the guest list to see your friends' bands play: we're happy to be your plus one. Or, take us to the bar your buddy bartends at. You know he'll hook us up.
• Pre-game, pre-game, pre-game. It's totally fine if we show up to the bar already drunk.
• Spend a date walking around town eating pizza and sippin' on slurpees. Extra credit if you hold our hand too.

On the flip side, if you are a broke bro, do NOT do the following things:

• Take us out to nice restaurants and say, "You got this, babe?" when the check comes. It's irritating when you take advantage of our generosity. It can be fun to be your sugar mama, but it's not fun to feel like a sucker. We are not an ATM or your mother, so don't expect us to foot the bill every time we dine.
  
• Splurge on a huge purchase for yourself then complain to us that you have no money to take us out. So, you spent your money on a new computer monitor but you still expect us to finance your hoagie habit? Aw, hell no.
• Use your dire finances as an excuse to skimp on hygiene products. You can afford toothpaste, darlin'. Even the dollar store sells toothpaste! Buy some more! Quit using the same crusty, spent tube. Ugh.
• Don't act like our house is some magical free-land where you can stuff your face with our food and use our fancy products indiscriminately. Do you know how much Bumble and Bumble shampoo costs? You don't need an entire handful of it to wash your hair, Captain Carefree.
• This also applies to our liquor: yes, we will notice if you drink it all every time you stop by. What are you, from the Third World? Quit it!

Really, it's up to you. The power to be a rad dude is in your economically disadvantaged hands. Girls, what do you think? Would you date a dude who's light in the bank account area? Where do broke guys usually go wrong? We wanna hear your two cents.

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This Week: Qualities That Are Surprisingly Not Bonerkillers

We have a lot of fun talking about the kinds of things guys do that we both love and loathe. You get the gist: we love it when a guy buys us a beer that costs more than $4 and we hate it when a guy wears socks with sandals. Ho hum. That's business as usual.

However, there is a nebulous area of our dating life where we know we should be turned off by a dude's behavior, but we strangely aren't. Blinded by love, we are willing to disregard some serious character flaws that would compel a normal person to run in the opposite direction and bust through a brick wall all Kool-Aid Man-style.

Yes, he's a weed dealer and a Deadbeat Dad, but have you heard his band? They're pretty awesome. You see what we did there? We totally overlooked the obvious red flags because we were focused on his positive aesthetic attributes. That's a fancy way of saying we let some shit slide 'cause we thought he was hot.

We wish we could say that these kind of things are a rare occurrence, but it happens to us all the freakin' time. So, this week we are gonna talk about the strangest qualities that we have overlooked in order to be with a guy. It's gonna be good. What's the craziest detail you've overlooked in a person you were trying to date? Drop us a line at hi@shmittenkitten.com and let us know!

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Surprisingly Not A Bonerkiller: You Are A DJ

Dating a DJ in 2009 is like dating a record store snob in 1995. Your DJ dude will be just as condescending, competitive, and snotty as your average record store employee. He will have a strong opinion about playing either vinyl records or digital music, which you'll get to hear about constantly. And, almost everything you guys do revolves around his upcoming DJ night: you go with him to Kinko's to make flyers, you drag your ass out of the house to help him "promote" his night by dropping off the flyers you made, and you listen to him sputter on about which songs are gonna be the most killer and/or blow the most minds.

You get to watch him obsess about his night for the entire month, hearing up-to-the-minute updates about his setlist. The perks? Free drinks at his "gig." The small print: you have to stay until the end of the night AND help him lug all of his records back to the car. For all that you put up with, it's a pretty thankless job.

So, with all this kerfuffle, why do we put up with it? Well, it's pretty magical when he looks up from the DJ booth as he's holding the headphones up to his ear, locks eyes with you and smiles. That's your man! And, he's making the entire dance floor bounce! Pride swells in your chest as he expertly transitions from one track to the next. Then, when he throws your favorite song in the mix, it's like a loud love letter that everyone in the room is forced to listen to.

*Dating a guy in a band is pretty much the same deal except they have "practice," which is just an excuse for him to go out drinking with his buddies near musical instruments. Maybe he'll go on tour, which is an excuse to drink with his friends across state lines. What's in it for you? You might get a free band t-shirt which can be eBay gold, depending on if his band makes it big. And, you might inspire some songs; you can now put "muse" on your resume. But, the best part about dating a guy in a band is getting a shout out in the liner notes of his record. It's pretty much like if he hired a skywriter but less wacky.

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Surprisingly Not A Bonerkiller: Video Edition

Here is footage of two metalheads headbanging whilst stoking a campfire. Surprisingly, my boner is not killed. If anything, my boner is intrigued. Have fun with that mental image.

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Surprisingly Not a Bonerkiller: Beer Bellies

While having a fit body definitely earns you brownie points, we would rather eat brownies with a beer-bellied boy. Whenever we see a guy with a beer belly we wonder if he'd be down to snack on quesadillas and knock back a beer with us. I mean, how could he not? A beer belly is like a boy scout badge awarded to those with excellent beer-drinking skills. It's out there for all the world to see.

The rad thing about beer bellies is that the rest of the body is generally in good shape; that's why it's called a beer belly, not a beer body. There's something about that magical, bowling ball-shaped bump that we find endearing. Perhaps if we rub his belly like a magic lamp, a genie will pop out. Hey, it's worth a shot.

Additionally, his belly is like a comfy, built-in pillow filled with delicious food and alcohol. You can share an ice cream sundae with him and then take a nap on his stomach without getting up from the couch. Maybe we just never got over our childhood fascination with Santa Claus, but either way, a beer belly ain't killin' this boner.

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Surprisingly Not A Bonerkiller: Readers Weigh In

So, we asked you what kind of things you've overlooked to date a guy and so far, we had some pretty amazing answers. We thought we'd share.

Those who have sensitive olfactory systems, beware. Katie wrote:

My man sweats profusely from his underarms. It does not smell bad at all, but he's very self-conscious about his steady sweat stream. For some reason, rather than turning me off, the smell gets me totally girl-sprung. I want to bottle it and drizzle it on my clothes: it's the essence of awesome. Is that so wrong?

Wow. Ew? But, hey whatever blows your hair back is fine with us. Nicole chimed in with some of the most egregious qualities she's had to overlook in a mate:

• a Hank Williams complex which included both being the lead singer in a shitty country band and a raging cocaine problem
• a meth habit
• a "harsh noise" band called Woody Allen [Ed. note: Whoa!]
  
• a creepy attachment to his mother
• homelessness
  

Yikes! Gretchen seemed most concerned about the guy who has a girlfriend and it just happens to not be her:

Sure you say she's out of the country for awhile and you don't want to break up with her over the phone, but that doesn't change the fact that YOU HAVE A GIRLFRIEND WHO IS NOT ME! But, then you get up early and bring me coffee while I'm in bed. I shouldn't like you, but I love that you'll make me dinner, complete with my favorite beer. And chocolate cake. While the fact that you have a girlfriend should be a bonerkiller--and, for some strange reason it isn't--listening to you tell her how much you love her over the phone actually is. In a big way.

Thanks, ladies. These are great. Keep 'em comin' in!

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Surprisingly Not A Bonerkiller: You Are A Ridiculously Picky Eater

Let me guess: you want to order chicken fingers and french fries. No, I'm not psychic. Do you wanna know how I knew that? Maybe it's because it's the only damn thing you ever eat. You have the eating habits of a seven-year-old, my dear. Consequently, we can never go to any real restaurants because if you can't get your precious deep-fried treats, you'll pout and ruin both of our dinners.

Goddamn it! Why am I still attracted to you? You're lucky you make such great mixtapes and are so much fun to people watch with because otherwise, I would've dumped you months ago.

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Quick Rant: Come On, Just High Five Me

Come the fuck on! Just high five me. What's the big deal? Do it. Doooo it. It'll be fun, I swear. What, do you hate fun? Why do you hate fun so much? High fiving is free fun. Will you please high five me? Please?

[Begrudgingly, he gives me the wimpiest high five ever while rolling his eyes and quickly crossing his arms in defiance]

There you go. Now, was that so hard? (Mental note: stop hanging out with guys who won't just high five me.)

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