Reader Submitted Oh No He Di'int: Quizzoffed

We're pretty ragged from our whirlwind jaunt to DC this week. What did we learn on our trip?

1. Hot tubs solve all of life's problems.
   
2. If we ever competed on America's Got Talent, picking up cute boys in dive bars is the skill we'd showcase to win the million dollar grand prize.
3. We wanna make a shirt and/or bumper sticker that says, "Have you hugged a rapper today?" Because, for some reason, we hugged a LOT of rappers in a short amount of time. And, they were really great huggers! Honestly, it felt like getting a rubdown from a Sharper Image chair. As Ferris Bueller instructed us, if you have the means, we highly recommend picking one up.

As we sleep it off, we're gonna run a few reader submissions. Here's one from our lovely reader Trisha who doesn't get what this whole quizzo bizness is all about:

“Wanna get together for lunch or dinner/drinks this week?” he texted. I responded without hesitation so he'd feel encouraged and know I’m enthusiastic about the idea. “Sure, how’s Wednesday?” He replied, “I play quizzo Wednesday nights, but I could skip that if you want.” All of my enthusiasm suddenly came to a screeching halt. If I answered with, “Skip that so we can get warm and fuzzy with each other,” he’ll resent me for missing out on all of the Quizzo fun.

So I take the safe route--with an embedded test of his desire--and volley back, “Either one. I’m good for lunch or dinner.” He said, “Let’s do a nice long lunch.” Realllly? He chose Quizzo over me?

I don’t know what this stupid game is other than having something to do with trivia and pints of beer. Now I don’t want to know. I will never play this dumbass game. What red-blooded American male chooses a trivia game over being with a hot chick? Everyone knows a weekday lunch precludes any nooky. You meet, smile gratuitously, flirt, sip one glass of wine, give a hug and a peck and you’re on your way back to work. Now dinner and drinks, that’s a different story. Sexy clothes, pomegranate martinis, getting a flushed feeling in all the right spots; that date is good to go!

And so he went...to Quizzo.

As frequent quizzo players, we can attest that it's fun, but it's the same thing every time you go. As you said, it's three or four rounds of trivia coupled with copious amounts of beer drinking. It's like sports for people who don't play sports, kinda like mind football. It's not as if he's gonna miss anything if he doesn't show up for a week though. Shrug. We bet that he has a smelly car and a crappy Dell laptop computer. You're better off without him.

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Reader Submitted Quick Rant: Switch Flippers Must Die

We got this submission from our reader Christine about when a guy acts superinterested then flips the switch and backs off. It's not a new thing in the dating world, but it's still entertaining to read about it.

I was out at a bar and it was my birthday, so I was nowhere close to sober. My friends and I were dancing and they started talking to this guy. He was good looking, had a great smile, and was really nice. Somehow we ended up talking too and then making out. Classy, I know, but it happens. The whole time we were talking/making out, he kept telling me that he really wanted to see me again and he wanted to take me out to dinner, blah blah blah.

So, we continued talking, he kept telling me how he reallllly wants to see me again, how he never does this, rarely goes out, never hooks up with random girls etc. Fine, up to this point, who cares. The next day, I went to New York to see some friends. I got a text from him saying "Despite my behavior last night, I'm a good guy and I'd like to show you. Have fun in NY but text me when you get back so we can meet up." I was totally excited!  

When I got back from NY--less than one day later--I texted him to tell him I was back in town and to see if he wanted to hang out sometime that week. And...

NO REPLY. Really?!? What could possibly have changed his mind in ONE day?!

After texting him once more a couple days later and resigning myself to giving up if there was no response, I get a reply saying, "Hey, I'm going home for Thanksgiving tomorrow, but I'll def talk to you when I get back on Monday so we can hang out." I think we can all guess what happened here: no text on Monday. So, my hopes have been raised and then slammed back against the rocks again.  I  haven't heard from him since.

I realize this is a small example, but honestly, if you aren't interested, don't text me the next day and act like you are. Sheesh.

Guys are weird.

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Tip Our Hats: Guys Who Make A Damn Good Bloody Mary

Goddamn! *holds the pint glass up to the light* What is in this thing, mermaid's blood and leprechaun spit? It's delicious! This is the perfect bloody mary: It's peppery and spicy and boozy and perfect for sipping while we lay around and watch Will Farrell movies all afternoon. Well done, my dear!

Granted, your kitchen looks like a crime scene with tomato juice and horseradish specks splashed all over the counter, but it's worth it for this magical, vaguely clammy elixir you've concocted. Capers, fresh lemon juice, and Frank's hot sauce: it's all in there. As soon as I slurp it down, you bop back into the kitchen to fix me another. I could get used to this.  

So, guys who make a damn good bloody mary, we tip our hats to you. Your take on this brunchtime classic makes your stock--and my heart rate--rise. *takes another sip, sets it down on the coffee table and smacks lips* I think I love you. (I'm talking to the bloody mary, not the dude.)

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Unscientific Poll: New Year's Resolutions, Shmitten Kitten-Style

We're not really one for new year's resolutions. For one thing, we hate rules. We feel like a juvenile delinquent for saying this, but our rule is to not follow rules, man! However, in an effort learn from our (repeated) mistakes, we thought we'd take a shot at telling you our new year's resolutions when it comes to dating. That's our first resolution. You can cross it off the list. Here's what else we vowed:

Julie G: My new year's dating resolution is to delete all the superfluous dudes out of my phone so there's less chance I'll make the same horrible mistake twice (or three times!) if I limit my ability to text those effers.

Jon K: "Hey dickhead, stop fucking up." That sounds both apt and unreasonable enough to be a solid resolution.

Bianca: My resolution is to date a dude who owns a dog. Why? Because if I'm single again at some point in the new year, I'm now down three dudes who love their cat more than they will ever love me.

Phil: I suppose my new year's resolution for dating this year is to step outside my box a little more.  I've been hanging out with the same folks in the same small city in the same bars every weekend and then complaining that I'm not meeting any new people.  I need to accept the invitations to the weird events, go to new bars, see new bands, and try new things.

My other less serious new year's resolution is to make out on my roof.  I have a really awesome roof.

Anna: My new year's resolution is to stop accepting Facebook invitations from guys I've only met once. It's starting to clutter up my already annoying FB experience. I don't wanna see pics of him chugging beers with his buds in dank rooms or mugging with drunk girls in random bars. My newsfeed looks like snapshots of parties I don't want to go with people I wouldn't want to hang out with. Blah.

Lauren G: My new year's resolution is to not let my horoscope rule my dating life and to stop canceling dates just because Mercury is in retrograde. Oh, and also to stop admitting that I read my horoscope religiously.

Lora: My new year's resolution is to stop doing The Change Up with my new dude. He doesn't know that I despise his idol, Michael Jackson, and I don't think I can keep it a secret any longer.  It's bad enough he's on the radio non-stop since his death, but if I hear him from my bf's iPod one more time I might rip my eardrums out. Sorry to all you MJ fans out there, but I need to be true to myself in 2010.

Lauren F: I think my resolution is to avoid men who text, email or Facebook me grammatically incorrect or misspelled messages, as in: "let me no wen ur in town again so we can kick it."

Baby J: My new year's--and hopefully forever resolution--is to stop going on dates with guys I know that I'm not attracted to simply for a challenge.

What's your new year's resolution? Leave 'em in the comments.

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Quick Rant: So, You Don't Want To Date Me But You Want To Add Me As A Contact On LinkedIn?

Not to be hyperbolic, but LinkedIn is the worst site on the Internet. It's like if Facebook had a lobotomy then tried to sort through your old paystubs and unearth anyone anywhere that might've had something to do with it's issuance. It's a lamer version of Friendster which is a lamer version of an office party in the breakroom. This site is geared towards middle managers in flyover states. It's MySpace for well-adjusted dads.

I'm not even sure why I have a profile on LinkedIn except it's something that I feel I should do, like shaving my armpits in winter. In both cases, no one is looking but I choose to tend to its upkeep regardless.

So, color me perplexed when an invite to "connect" pops up in my inbox from you. You'd like to add me to your "professional network." Hmm. I see.

WHAT THE FUCK?

We never worked together in a professional capacity whatsoever. We don't even work in the same industry. The only problem we solved together was the problem of how I really liked you and you wanted to date someone else. How well did that go? Do you want me to write a glowing testimony about your performance there, Champ? "He's really great at thinking outside of the box. Particularly my box. Like, when we dated, apparently, he was thinking about another girl's box the entire time." This is fucktarded. To paraphrase Wilson Philips, I'm gonna break free from these LinkedIn chains. Consider yourself LinkedOUT.

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Things In His House That Make Me Sad: His Black Towels

I've finally conquered my fear of showering at his place. My game plan is to keep my eyes focused on the ceiling to avoid any glimpses of the grimy, soapscummy underworld below. Seriously, it's like Blade Runner's movie set down there. I'm even willing to let him see me with ratty, wet hair. I'm ready to finally make this leap when he throws a curve ball at me. Actually, he tosses it to me: the dreaded black towel.

Sure, it might be clean. It could have been washed just yesterday. But it also could have never been washed and who would ever be the wiser? I happen to know for a fact your mom does all your laundry and you haven't been home in over a month.

Your black towel is like a vortex of dirt; it goes in, seemingly disappears, but still exists in there somewhere. I know the reasoning of many dudes is that if you're using a towel to dry yourself off when you're already clean, why would you need to wash it? The only clue to how clean it is is to smell it and I wouldn't DARE go there. It probably smells like a mixture of subway floor and dog's breath.

The black towel can be used dozens of times and still look brand new. You see this as the beauty of black towels. However, I see it as the main reason this will be the first and last shower I'll ever take at your place.

I'm not sure about the logic behind these black towels. You claim to be a relatively clean person so I'm hoping their purpose isn't to mask dirt. So what is it then? Are black towels supposed to represent masculinity? I understand if you don't want pink towels or even yellow, but do you realize they also make blue towels? If you opted for pink or yellow towels, I wouldn't judge you. I'd just assume that your mom bought them for you like everything else in your house that isn't a part of your computer.

You don't need black towels to compensate for that Bridget Jones DVD you have hiding behind the rest of your movies or the Taylor Swift songs at the top of your most played list in iTunes. In fact, I'm going to think MORE of you if you dispose of the two black towels you've been rotating for a solid 16 weeks now. Can you at least do that for me because drying off with them feels like I'm drying off with Burt's unibrow. And, that just makes me sad.

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Real Talk: Philly Will Date You, New York Will Hate You

Ladies, real talk.

Dudes in Philly are kind of awesome. Broke, yes, but awesome. If you don't believe me, try dating dudes in New York.

When we lived in Philly we were knee deep in hot dudes all trying to be our boyfriend. In New York, forget that noise. Brooklyn dudes might have the same beards and beer bellies as your average Fishtowner, but they don't get a simple fact. You gotta LOCK IT DOWN.

At a recent party in Philly, we were pleasantly surprised by all the marriages, babies and engagements in a room full of 20- and 30-somethings. Guys in New York don't think they have to settle down 'til they're pushing 45 and can no longer get a 23-year-old girl to take them home.

So give some love to the Philly guys who might not have a job, an apartment of their own, or even a bed, but who are more than happy to call you their girl.


Julie G is our new NYC correspondent. As a former Philly resident, she knows what's up. Check out her blog and follow her on Twitter.

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Things That Make Me A Bad Boyfriend: I Cry At Movies

Here's another thing about me that a lot of girls say they want in a boyfriend, but haven't really thought through: I cry at movies. Often.

I know you complain about how you want a guy who's unafraid of showing his emotional side, but until you hear my soft whimpering next to you on the couch when we get to the end of whatever romantic comedy we've decided to watch, you might want to be careful what you ask for.

The weird thing is that it's getting worse with age. I've always been a little teary-eyed at movies, but lately, the dumbest, weirdest shit will bring on the waterworks. Hell, a month ago I cried at a Walmart commercial. I'm totally not an over-emotional person and I don't cry at regular everyday life shit, but for some reason, if it's on the TV, it's fair game.

The absolute worst are the movies involving submarines. There's always that one scene in the movie where the water is filling up in the room and they're all trying to get out before the door shuts. Inevitably, there's always one guy who gets left behind in the room and he can't escape. Then you have the dude on the other side of the door shouting things like, "I'm so sorry!" as the room fills up with water. Hollywood has been writing variations of this scene for 50 years now and it turns me into an emotional mess every time.

In your imagination, maybe the crying you're picturing is a single tear dripping down my cheek wiped away tenderly. But what do you do when there's like 50 tears and then there's Kleenex involved? And if we're talking about the series finale of Six Feet Under, we're talking BOXES of Kleenex.

And then, of course, there will come a time when I'm crying at a movie and YOU'RE not. This has already happened more times than I'd like to admit in past relationships and it ranks pretty high on the humiliation scale.

So if you're tough as nails, or can't handle me sobbing my way through another John Cusack movie*, you might just have to cross my name off your list as a potential boyfriend.


*Note: I did cry at the most recent John Cusack film, 2012, but only after realizing I got tricked into paying $12 to see one of the worst pieces of shit I've ever seen.

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