Things I'm Terrible At: Lying

I'm like George Washington: I have wooden teeth. Just kidding. I'm like George Washington because I cannot tell a lie. I suck at it. My body betrays me. I go full-on squirrel. My eyes dart around in an effort to avoid eye contact. I mumble. Beads of sweat materialize on my forehead. I'm clearly lying.

This really isn't a problem in my day-to-day life except when I go to a grocery store in another state and the cashier asks if I have a shopper's card and I lie and say I left it at home so she swipes the generic store card and I get the ten cents off the orange juice I'm buying. That's about the extent of my casual lying and the entire exchange is very stressful for me.

The only other time I have to lie is when I'm deflecting some guy's unwelcome advances at a bar. The quickest way to shut it down is to say that I already have a boyfriend. It's fucked up that a guy will respect that as a reason and that I can't just tell him I'm not attracted to him, but that's the reality here, folks. Because if I give a guy any other reason than I have a boyfriend, he will argue with me. If I tell him I'm not interested because I'm only attracted to shorter guys, he'll argue. If I tell him that I don't think we have much in common, he'll argue that too. I don't want to argue; I want him to get the fuck out of my face. The quickest way to do that is to lie and say I already have a dude.

"Well, I don't think my boyfriend would be okay with that," I say, trying my best to sound convincing. The words feel strange coming out of my mouth. "I have a boyfriend. I have a boyfriend. Me. This chica. Has a boyfriend." I pretty much forgot the word "boyfriend" existed until it clicked in my head that if I said it, my unsuitable suitor will magically go away because the word "boyfriend" is creep repellant.

But let me tell you, it requires all of my paltry acting skills to sell him on the performance. Shit. How do girls with boyfriends act? I have no idea. I stand up straighter. I put a hand on my hip. I just repeat myself a lot like a defective Speak & Spell: "Boyfriend. Boyfriend. Boyfriend."

Pretending to be in a relationship is exhausting. At this point, I just hope he doesn't ask any specifics about my imaginary beau because my lie will crumble quicker than week-old coffee cake. "His name is...Mark. He has...eyebrows. He also has...a penis. Ah! Stop asking me questions! The truth is that your jeans are too baggy and I think your sunglasses are lame and I'm not attracted to you whatsoever. Now leave me alone because I'm waiting for my friend to get here and I wanna tweet a joke I just thought of and the longer you try to flirt with me the more aggravated I'm getting."

Yeah, I suck at lying.

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Things I'm Terrible At: Camping

Agreed!

I think that I like the idea of camping more than actually doing it. I mean, it sounds great, right? A few days away from the modern world: peace and quiet, communing with nature, motherfuckin' s'mores. And, if the right guy asked me to go camping with him, I'd pretend I was into the idea. I'd pretend to be stoked about the beers we'd drink, the chili we'd slow-cook, and the sleeping bag action we'd get. Hell, I'd even pretend to be excited to squat on a log and roast a weenie over a small fire. I would do everything in my power to hide the fact that I'm a total camping spazz.

Here's what I think about when I think about camping: bug bites. Uncomfortable sleeping arrangements. Pebbles getting stuck in my shoe. Strange sounds at night. Mud. Lack of sofas. Lack of televisions. Lack of electricity. Lack of a shower. Lack of sushi or Thai food or tacos. Basically, lack of my favorite global cuisines. Oh god, I fucking hate camping.

I feel like I'm gonna let a guy down when he finds out how fussy I am about the whole camping thing. I wear contacts. I use expensive moisturizers. I use a lot of fancy body washes. I sleep with a lot of pillows. Aside from being prissy, I'm also terrified of snakes. Couple that with my terrible night vision and I'd have panic attacks at every errant branch that was just outside my field of vision and every crackle of a leaf in the darkness. That sounds like a nightmare.

I made the mistake of seeing "The Blair Witch Project" in college even though I hate both camping and horror movies. Let me tell you, I was so rattled by the film that I had to sleep with the lights on for the next three nights. The kicker: I was living in Manhattan then! I'm sure the Blair Witch wasn't about to navigate the 1/9 local train to terrorize me, but I was that panicked. I have no idea what I was thinking seeing a horror movie about the woods. It was the dumbest thing I've ever done and that includes the time I noticed Sebastian Bach from Skid Row was standing in front of me in a rock club so I ran my fingers through his hair in hopes of catching a stray strand. I also grabbed his ass and blamed it on the person next to me. Yes, sleeping with the lights on for three nights after watching The Blair Witch Project was dumber than that.

I often think about if there was an apocalypse and I was forced to retreat to the forrest and fend for myself how long I'd last. I'd guess three days, tops. I'd probably eat the wrong berry or trip on a branch, break my leg, and wither away on the forrest floor like a wounded moose. Other people would be foraging for food or telling time by the sun's position; I'd be crinkling my nose at the thought of having to wipe my ass with a leaf. Ugh. I'd rather die than deal with nature for longer than an afternoon.

I really hope my hatred of camping won't be a bonerkiller to guys I meet. The best-case scenario is that he'll hate camping too and we can bond over how stupid the whole thing is. We'll agree that having constant access to indoor plumbing, Internet access, and several local restaurants is the way to go. Besides, if we ever get the itch to bond with nature, we can just make s'mores in my backyard.

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Things I'm Terrible At: Remembering A Guy I Went Out With Twice Over Six Months Ago

Which one was he again? 

"So, tell me! What ever happened to that guy you were seeing?" my friend Katie asked, reaching for a celery stick off a half-eaten veggie platter. I hadn't seen her since last fall so she wanted to hear all about what I've been up to since then. We were making small talk in a brightly lit kitchen during a low-key house party. Music thumped in the background. I was drinking a beer but I didn't even have a decent buzz yet. 

"Which one?" I asked. 

"What do you mean 'which one'?" She cocked her head to the side. 

"I mean, which guy?" 

"The finance guy! You told me all about him last time I saw you."

"The finance guy?" I was genuinely perplexed. 

"Yes! The one who took you to that fancy dinner then to a Phillies game." 

"I went to a Phillies game? What are you talking about?"  

Katie started to lose it at this point. She put the celery stick down. "That last time I saw you, you told me how you went out with this guy who took you out for a fancy dinner. You told me that he had some kind of cell phone that you can't even get in America." 

"No way! What else did I say about him?" I was amused. 

"You were telling me all about how he gave a dog CPR once. And how he makes his own pickles. He wants to open a pickle business on the side. Ring any bells?" 

"OH! That guy! Yeah, it's all coming back to me. Right, right. I'm totally blanking on his name. Shit. I think it begins with a 'B.' Brian? No. Br....ad? Was it Brad?"

Nothing makes me feel more single than when I run into someone I haven't seen in a while and they ask about a guy I dated over six months ago and I have no clue who the hell they're talking about. She's been with the same guy for like, eight years. She knows everything about him. She knows what his farts smells like and how he hates tiny corn on the cobs and how he refuses to watch anything that Jennifer Aniston stars in.

I, however, have been single for freakin' ever. I'm always single. I go out with a guy a few times and it putters out or I lose interest or he blows me off. It happens all the time. I can't keep track of the stable of men that float in and out of my life like the Forrest Gump feather.

It's especially weird at parties when I run into friends and they ask for updates about a guy I went out with a handful of times who was about as memorable as the contestants on the last season of The Voice. I haven't thought about any of these guys in months so when a friend asks about a dude from my past, I have to really concentrate on who she's referencing. I could feel her judging me as she chomped on her celery stick.

To people in committed relationships, it probably sounds really crazy to not remember guys I've been out with, but whatever. I'm single. I date a ton. I can't remember all the dudes. That's my life.

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Things I'm Terrible At: Talking To Other Guys In Front Of The Guy I Have A Crush On

I need help with this, Internet! I do not know how to conduct myself around this guy I like. Well, that's not new. I never know how to conduct myself around anyone for anything. But, in this case, my problem is that I don't know how to talk to other guys in front of him especially if he doesn't know that they're my friends. What if it gives him the wrong idea? What if he mistakes my friendly chat with a buddy as disinterest in him?

This wouldn't be such a huge deal if the object of my affection wasn't so shy and easily discouraged. Aside from carrying around a huge ass neon sign that says, "Don't freak out. This guy I'm talking to is my friend's ex. He just told me that he lost his job and has been depressed about it so I'm kinda stuck here listening to his story because truthfully, I'd look like a dick if I walked away right now. But, I'm concerned that you will misinterpret the situation. Don't panic; I'm still in interested in you romantically!" But it sounds like making that sign would be expensive. And heavy.

I don't know. I guess I just wanted to say that it sucks when that happens. And it sucks to see doubt flicker over his face as he's trying to assess my situation. And it sucks to watch him quickly finish his beer and put his coat on while I'm smack dab in the middle of an intense conversation that I can't easily untangle myself from. What am I gonna do, run after him and be all dramatic? Why do I feel like I'm some shitty '80s high school movie anytime I have feelings for a guy and I run into him while I'm out? Why is this dating shit so hard? Ugh!

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Pics and Vids: Things I'm Good At

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Things I'm Terrible At: Noticing Him Trying To High Five Me

This might be hard to believe, but when I like a guy, I get super shy. It doesn't happen often, but occassionally, I'll get SO SHY that I can't even sustain eye contact. During our entire dinner, I'll just mumble, look down at my plate and blush a lot like I'm a nervous foreign exchange student or something.

This tic of mine is bad news bears because looking down and blushing a lot makes me miss ALL of his high-fiving attempts. Like, every single one. So when I finally look over and see him with his arm up and his palm waiting to meet my palm, I feel terrible. He's trying to break the ice and I'm so nervous that I'm doing the opposite of breaking the ice: I'm skating around on it in a tizzy like an unattended Zamboni.

By the time I engage in the high-five, it's a few seconds too late and it's a limp little slap that makes a limp little noise which makes me even more nervous and makes me blush and stare at my dinner plate more which makes me miss his next high-five attempt too. It's a vicious cycle! Men, don't high-five me if I'm nervous. And, please don't high-five me if I'm not already engaging in eye contact with you because really, I'm terrible at it.

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Things I'm Terrible At: Competing For A Guy's Attention

When it comes to vying for a man's attention, I'm the least competitive girl on the planet. My heart's not in the fight. Honestly, when I think about trying to compete for a guy's attention, to paraphrase the song, "there's a whole lot of shruggin' goin' on."

In grade school, if I learned that another girl had a crush on the guy I liked, I'd get over him instantly. "You can have him," I'd tell her (in my mind) as my feelings for him dwindled down to nothing. Frankly, I was happy to surrender my crush to a more eager party.

It wouldn't even need to be confirmed that another girl had a crush on him; hearing it through the grapevine was all it'd take for me to throw in the attraction towel. I'll relinquish my feelings for him before the sentence, "I heard that she likes him too," was finished. Fuck it! She can have him and they can get married and have babies for all I care. 

I'll never understand women who feel compelled to compete for a guy's attention. Who has the energy for it? Just thinking about trying to sustain his focus makes me wanna take a nap. Y'all can have him, ladies. I'll focus my energy on the short dude in the corner who's here with his two best friends and looks slightly terrified at the idea of talking to me instead. He's more my speed anyway.

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Reader Submitted Things I'm Terrible At: Giving The Appearance of Being Unavailable When I Like Someone

I'm so pleased; I just received ANOTHER fantastic reader submission! This time it's from Maddie who can't seem to ease off the gas pedal when a hot dude is involved:

Must. Appear. Busier.

As soon as I find a guy I’m interested in, the prospect of spending time with him immediately trumps all other potential social engagements. I become reluctant to schedule plans with any other friends too far in advance on the off-chance that he might text me at the last minute to hang out. I’m so afraid of missing out on a couple hours with him that I end up missing out on literally everything else.

Why do I do this? Has his ridiculously adorable face and awesome wardrobe caused temporary amnesia in the part of my brain that holds all of the dating clichés like, “absence makes the heart grow fonder” and, “never make yourself too available?” This is some bush league, amateur hour nonsense I’m pulling here. I should know better than to act like this!

When he actually does get around to texting me, I know I should make him sweat it out for a little bit wondering if I’ll respond. But for some reason, as soon as I see his name appear on my screen, I’m on my phone faster than Ke$ha's on a bathtub filled with glitter and Jack Daniels. In the words of R. Kelly, my mind is telling me no, but my body is telling me to text him back immediately.

The worst part is, I’m painting myself as an anti-social recluse whose calendar is about as full as an Econ101 lecture hall the Friday before Spring break which couldn't be further from the truth. Normally, I can’t even find enough time to return the movie I rented to the Redbox two blocks from my house or pick up my prescription from CVS, but for him, it seems, I’ll drop everything.

Slowing my roll is the toughest thing in the universe. Part of me wants to write his name on my calendar IN PEN on every day from now to eternity, but another part of me is like, "reel it in, woman. At least pretend that there are other people on this planet you want to give some facetime to so he's not tipped off to your freakazoid obsession with him." I hear ya, girl. It's the pits.

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Reader Submitted Things I'm Terrible At: Keeping My Hopes In Check

I just received this submission from our reader, Naike, and I had to share it. We've ALL been there, dude!

Will I ever learn to not get my hopes up?

You've all heard the story: Girl meets boy at a cookout. Girl charms boy with her quick wit and big appetite. Phone numbers are exchanged, frequent texting ensues. Sounds like the beginning of a summer fling fairy tale right? Well it might be until something I like to call High Hopes Syndrome sets in.

I've been in this position before. It will be a week into this playful banter/flirty text paradise when I casually mention him to my friends. They'll get excited and start pestering me for details so naturally, I'll fill them in. Right then at that very moment, my hopes will soar higher than the notes on a Mariah Carey record. I can't help it! Something about falling into a communication routine quickly with him gets me all worked up and before I know it, I've got this boy on the brain all day. I'll remind myself that it’s new and chances are we'll just be friends for now. I'll laugh at myself for checking my phone when it hasn't beeped, flashed or buzzed in while. I'll even prepare myself for that daily late night phone call: All the symptoms of HHS.

The second week comes along and dates are being planned. I'm trying to figure out a way to impress him without looking like I tried too hard. I'll check the restaurant menu online so I don't look indecisive when we get there. I’m obsessing over the tiny details when suddenly things change; he's not texting or calling as frequently. In fact, I haven't heard from him for a whole day. I can't call him out on the disappearing act because really, I'm just getting to know him.

This is the beginning of the end. Another day passes and the silence continues. The air has been let out of my balloon. Deflated, it dawns on me that I had my hopes way too high. It's crazy how attached I became to the routine that lasted all of five days. If only I could muster this amount of enthusiasm for the gym I recently joined. I'd love to be able to say that I keep my cool when a crush sets in but its damn near impossible to suppress those ridiculous giddy emotions. The thirst is real and my hopes are too damn high. 

Seriously, this happens to me ONCE A WEEK! Usually it's right around the time when I notice something exciting happening the following weekend and I think it'd be fun if we went together as a couple. That energy must be psychically transmitted to him because he'll peace out faster than a cheapskate does when the check comes at a group birthday dinner.

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Things I'm Terrible At: Having Nice Legs In The Summer

I've come to terms with the fact that within a two days of summer weather, I will undoubtedly bruise my legs in the dumbest ways. I don't get it. I'm not Ariel; you'd think that I'd figure out how to have human legs by now. Well, it turns out that I haven't because as soon as it's skirt weather, my legs look like they've been in Fight Club.

I scratched at a mosquito bite when I was sleeping so I have a scab on my thigh. I ran into my bed and bruised my ankle. I knocked my knee getting out of my car. It's physically impossible to keep my legs looking pristine!

The worst is when I'm out with a guy and I catch him eying my scrapes. I'll quickly re-cross my legs so he won't see my scabs which is weird. Every other part of my body can deal with being exposed to sunlight except my legs. It's like they're bruise magnets. He probably thinks I'm into roller derby or ladies' wrestling or getting into heated brawls with feral cats, but the truth is that I'm just a clumsy motherfucker with some jacked up gams. Sorry!

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Things I'm Terrible At: Texting The Right Person The Right Thing

Not again!

My best friend Jenna is always at the top of my inbox. The problem comes when I start texting a new guy and his conversation thread is one measly millimeter from my conversation thread with my best friend. On more occassions than I'm willing to admit, I've mixed the two threads up and I've texted my new guy something that was intended for Jenna.

Just so we're all on the same page, THIS SUCKS. There's really no excuse for it. I mean, a drunk monkey would probably text more responsibly than me. It's gotten to the point where I'll just email Jenna with what I have to say because I'm so paranoid about texting the wrong person the wrong thing. And, I'll immediately delete texts with a new dude because I'm afraid I'm going to fuck up and text him something unintended for him at some point. 

The worst was when a guy dumped me via text (classy, I know) and I immediately texted Jenna that I'd been dumped but I sent it to him by accident, making me look like a certified lunatic. I had to backtrack a ton and begged him to have a hearty laugh at my expense seeing as I can't figure out how to text the right person the right message. THANK GOD I didn't call him by his code name in the text. Could you imagine dumping a girl then getting a text back saying, "Squeaky-Voiced Puffy Neck just dumped me via text. Wanna grab a drink tonight?" You'd die, right?

Apparently, I've earned a college degree AND a graduate degree, but I am unable to differentiate between to two conversations on a cell phone. Frankly, I'm terrible at it.

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I'm Gonna Be Honest: That Was The Worst Flirting I've Ever Done In My Life

OMG I sucked so hard

Jeez. What can I say? I was totally terrible back there. I think that could've been the worst flirting I've ever done. It was the worst flirting ANYONE has EVER done in the history of the planet. Seriously, earthworms probably flirt better than I just did. I've seen houseplants with better game than me. I'm consumed with shame at my obvious crash and burn.

I wish I had an excuse like I was drunk or my cat just died so my head wasn't in the right place to crack a few lighthearted, friendly jokes, but that'd be a lie. I was of sound body and mind when we talked five minutes ago; I just really sucked at flirting and I have no explanation for it.

I hereby apologize for the following things:

• Making that bizarre joke that Peeps should be cooked with chicken. I don't know what I was thinking. Trust me when I say that the joke was funnier in my head. It was a clunker. No argument there.
  
  
• Making him feel bad for not remembering my name. I was trying to pretend like I was angry at him for not remembering, but when the words, "What the hell? Am I that unmemorable?" came out, it sounded waaaay harsher than I meant it to. The funny thing is that I don't care that he didn't remember my name and I have no clue why I tried to make him feel bad about that. Whoops!
  
  
• I also apologize for making that strange Mr. Belvedere joke which he didn't get either so roughly one-third of our conversation was me trying to explain the premise of an '80s sitcom to him. As my mouth kept moving, I knew that I was talking straight-up jibberish. I could also tell he wasn't engaged because he kept looking around the room for someone else to talk to. Message received, buddy. 

As awful as it was to listen to me babble away like an idiot, it felt even more terrible being the babbler knowing that I sounded like an unfunny lunatic. Yikes. Sorry! Can we pretend that our entire conversation never happened? I think that'd be best for all parties involved.

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Things I'm Terrible At: Telling Jeffrey Dean Morgan and Javier Bardem Apart

Seriously, I thought they were the same person for the longest time.

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Things I'm Terrible At: Explaining To A Guy I'm Interested In That The Boy I Showed Up With Is Not My Boyfriend

I have a lot of guy friends, which is great. I love them with all my heart. HOWEVER, what I DON'T love is how they can unintentionally cockblock me when we go out together. Sure, to a stranger, it looks like we're an item because we're so comfortable together, but the reality is that he's strictly a bud. We're probably just gabbing up a storm talking about the new girl he's seeing.

So, it's a strange thing to meet a new guy while I'm out then try to explain to him that despite the male companion by my side, I am available.

It turns out that I don't know how to do this without sounding like I'm insane. I've been known to barf out entire paragraphs in an attempt to clarify the situation when really I could probably communicate this in one concise sentence: "Have you met my friend yet?" That is probably what a normal person would do.

But, not me. The more I talk, the more I feel like I have to explain everything. It goes on forever and doesn't make sense, kinda like this season of Big Love.

"Oh that guy? He's my homeboy. I mean my homie. My friend. That's what I meant to say. He's just a friend. A buddy. Seriously, we're practically siblings. He's like a brother to me. No one I'd consider sleeping with. And I haven't! Oh, god no. Really, there's NOTHING here. He's actually repulsive to me. He does this thing where he puts mayonnaise on like, everything and it's so gross that it makes me want to hurl. There's no way I'd date him. Also, his house smells like lentils. So, you know. Yeah. Where were we?"

See? I SUCK AT THIS.

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Things I'm Terrible At: Dating Two Guys At Once

Remember when Alex P. Keaton had two dates to the prom?
He sucked at this too.

This has only happened to me a few times, but one thing I've learned is that I'm not mentally agile enough to date two guys simultaneously. It's hard enough to get to know one guy, but any more than that and everything becomes a jumbled mess of random facts and places that I will confuse at inopportune moments.

I can't keep anything straight: Is this the one that has the shellfish allergy or was it the other guy? Is this the guy with two sisters or is he the one with four brothers? Is this the one who studied abroad in France or is this the one that's never been on an airplane?

I'll even slip up a few times and say, "Let's grab some ice cream." And, he'll say, "Anna, you know I don't eat dairy. I've told you that a million times" Then I'll mumble, "Oh! You're the one that is lactose intolerant. Right." It's totally obvious that I'm a fuck-up at this.

And, frankly, it takes too much time to juggle two guys. Quizzo on Thursday with the first guy. Dinner on Friday with the second guy. Dinner on Saturday with the first guy again. So many meals, so many drinks, so many conversations to potentially mess up: Who has this much time to devote to seeing men anyway?

Count me out. I prefer to ruin one relationship at a time; ruining two at once is like fighting a war in Iraq AND a war Afghanistan and how dumb would that be?

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Things I'm Terrible At: Discerning If He Gets A Lot Of Girls

Is he? Am I waaaaay off-base about this?

I can't figure out if I have a chance with this guy or not. He seems to have a million female friends. And, he's always posting pictures where he's posing with a ton of cute girls too. What's the deal? Is he a Romeo or do all of these girls just think of him as their goofy younger brother?

It's driving me crazy. I'm not interested in competing for his affection, especially if dozens of pretty girls with names like Jenny and Isabelle are up on his shit. They can have him. But, do they even want him? I can't tell! I wish I was Deanna Troi and could read their emotions to get to the bottom of this.

My brain tells me that usually guys with a ton of female friends are the ones who don't get steady action. They're the "nice guy" of the group, the reliable dude all the girls spill their problems too. But, he's so cute it's hard to believe that anyone could keep their hands off of him. I don't even know. I'm terrible at this.

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Things I'm Terrible At: Keeping Movie Promises

"You've already seen the new Jackass movie? I thought you said that you'd see it with me. What the hell?"

Spoiler alert: I'm gonna forget that I promised to see the movie with him. I'm like a deadbeat dad about it. Honestly, as soon as I promised to see a movie with him, I immediately forgot. The exact second the words left my mouth, they also left my brain.

When I said, "We should see that movie together," it was more of a suggestion than definite plans etched in stone. Dude, I can't be bothered to keep that kind of shit straight! It's just a movie! Get over it.

Of course when I tell him that I already saw the movie last week, he'll frown and cross his arms, acting like I forgot to pick him up from his Little League game. Sorry to break your heart, bud, but it's not the end of the world that I didn't sit next to you for two hours and watch a shitty movie that will be on Pay-Per-View in like, two weeks. Don't pout. Don't get mad. FUCK. I hate when he gets mad at me about this.

If it's any consolation, I have no qualms about seeing movies twice in a theater but mostly likely, that won't make it better. He'll still get bitchy that I'm not a film virgin. 

And, usually, this comes up with the most braindead movies to watch, like a Will Ferrell jawn or some shit. It'll be on DVD in three months! What's the big deal? I break movie promises ALL THE TIME! That's just how I roll. Don't hate me!

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I've Come To The Conclusion That It's Impossible To Hold A Grudge Against Him

Who can be angry at a guy like this?

He does a million terrible things all the time. He flakes out on our plans at the last minute. He's a cheapskate. He refuses to watch the movie that I wanna watch. He'll invite his friends to come out with us even though I was looking to score some solo time with him. He'll only agree to go to two bars in the entire city so every time we go out, we end up at one of those shitholes. The last straw was when he hit on another girl during our fourth date. Honestly, he's THE WORST; A total nightmare for women.

I've written him off more times that I can count: I've deleted him from my Facebook friend list. I've blocked him on gchat and I've deleted his number from my phone (twice!). However, I've come to terms with the fact that it is impossible to hold a grudge against him.

I ran into him at a party and he came up to me straightaway. Must resist his charms. He fist bumped me and said, "What's up, player?" which made me laugh. I did my best to project a steely facade. "Hello."

"What? You're still mad at me? COME ON! Don't be mad. How can you be mad at a guy who dances like this?" Then, he grabbed his best friend's hips and freaked him from behind, causing the poor guy to spill his beer everywhere. I covered my mouth so he wouldn't see me crack up.

"There it is! I knew I could get you to smile." I tried not to grin, but it was impossible. How can I be angry at such an immature goofball? It's a fact: Immature goofballs make terrible boyfriends. It's like getting mad that Nickelback still has a career or that a Katherine Heigl movie lacked sufficient character development. What's the point? It's the nature of the beast.

Besides, I don't enjoy being irritated at him. It makes me feel like I'm an uptight, humorless bitch. Fuck it. It's easier to accept him for the wacky jerk he is. And just like that, Grudgetown was population: zero. 

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Things I'm Terrible At: Using Exclamation Points Prudently

I wore this perfume in 6th grade!

As I reviewed the past two dozen texts I've sent him, I noticed a disturbing trend: I use exclamation points constantly.

• "Sure, I love that band!"
• "Haha! Totally!"
• "Ok! Call me later!"
• "Yeah, Saturday night sounds great!"
• "The Hurt Locker was HILARIOUS!"

See what I mean? It's out of control. I'm basically a dog wagging my tail and humping his leg via his inbox. I'm not getting paid by how many times I can type an exclamation point but I sure act like I do. What's wrong with me? Clearly, I'm missing the part of my brain that harnesses enthusiasm when communicating with a man that I like. (For the record, it took all of my effort to not use any exclamation points in this paragraph. Baby steps, my friends. Baby steps.)

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Me And Kanye Sitting In A Tree T-E-X-T-I-N-G

You so crazy, Kanye!

I'm not sure if you've seen Kanye West's twitter page recently, but it's pretty bonkers. He sounds straight-up unhinged. The Huffington Post slapped his tweets on New Yorker cartoons, which was genius.

It got me thinking about what it'd be like if I dated Kanye West and the kinds of conversations we'd have. I'd bet that he'd send me the most insane text messages. Seeing as I have an MFA in crazy texts, it wasn't too hard to imagine this scenario. Keep in mind that these are all real tweets he has written, pulled directly from his stream. I kept his grammar and spelling exactly as it appeared for full affect.

Me: Hey, babe. How are you? How'd you sleep?
Kanye: Fur pillows are hard to actually sleep on
Me: You didn't sleep well? What have you done today?
Kanye: Up early in the morning taking meetings in Silicone Valley
Kanye: Lol I spelled Silicon wrong ( I guess I was still thinking about the other type of silicone ITS A PROCESS!! :)
Kanye: May hit the club.... it may happen!!!
Me: Dude, it's like 2pm. Isn't that a little early?
Kanye: you wanna know what goes through my mind in the early afternoon.... suits and Brazil yes!
Me: Haha. What?
Kanye: Office clothes are the shit
Me: I HATE office clothes. Gap khaki pants and thin cardigans? No thanks. I hate dressing like a secretary.
Kanye: Limitation spawns innovation
Me: I guess.
Kanye: Clothes are my drug
Me: I can see that.
Kanye: Let's have a toast!!!! skal!! THAT MEANS TOAST IN SWEDISH!!!
Me: You wanna have a toast? With what?
Kanye: GREEEEEEEY GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSE!!!! hahhahahahahaaaaaa
Me: You already sound drunk. What are you drinking?
Kanye: Sipping Molnar Family Poseidin's Vineyard Chardonnay in the middle of the day sidebar out of gold cups for whatever that's worth
Me: Right. With your fronts in? You must look like Lil' Jon or some shit.
Kanye: No seriously ... I said my teeth are real diamonds... these are not fronts... I replaced my bottom row of teeth with diamonds.
Me: Sorry! I thought you were kidding. I'm sure they look amazing.
Kanye: Why is this girl showing me pictures of her Mom rt now hahhahahaaa hey I don't know what to say about this .... let me see more of you!!!
Me: I can't wait to show you more of me. Maybe, if you're good. Last time we talked, you seemed pretty irritated. What were you bummed out about again?
Kanye: I specifically ordered persian rugs with cherub imagery!!! What do I have to do to get a simple persian rug with cherub imagery uuuuugh
Me: That's a drag. I think it's cool how you text me whenever you have a spare minute. You're so cute. I know I'm not a model like your last girl. Whatever. Models are dumb.
Kanye: Dating models I had to learn to like small dogs and cigarettes
Me: Haha. I love you.
Kanye: I love me
Kanye: I love everybody... only thing I don't like is taxes.. me and taxes gone fight
Kanye: hold on.... I'm bout to hop on this #BABYMAMAJET the jets Billionaires give to they baby mamas or they 1rst 2nd or 3rd wife
Me: Okay! Talk later, boo.
Kanye: This is gonna be a dope ass day

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