Last Chance For Romance - May I Entice You With A Sandwich?
Last week, one of my friends mentioned some sort of crazy "Turbo Dating" event that was happening this week and tried her hardest to convince me to go with her. The event is actually tomorrow night, and for $25, you get set up with 7 men and have seven 7-minute dates, the purpose of which is to get the pleasantries out of the way and decide if there's any desire whatsoever to date/procreate/see this person naked. It's pretty fascinating, actually.
My immediate thought was, "Hell no!" I seem to get myself into enough awkward situations without having to spend 49 collective minutes trying to determine if the guy sitting across from me has the potential to hold my hair back for me when I'm sick and throwing up, or to hold my hand at the movies and make sure I am being fed a sufficient amount of Skittles during the scary parts. I have seven minutes to determine this for each guy, and I don't even get a dinner out of it. That stresses me out so badly that as I type this, I think a few hairs just fell out of my head.
After a convincing, but polite decline (my friend is a hopeless romantic, and far be it for me to dash her hopes of meeting a life partner face-to-face over flourescent lighting and a plastic card table that's covered with a tablecloth and some bows to resemble an intimate setting a little more "Steel Magnolias" and a little less "Swingers"), she looked at me and said:
"KA, it's 49 minutes of your life. Seriously. Less than an hour! And you get seven dates. Seven dates in 49 minutes - when was the last time you had seven dates lined up?"
And then it occurred to me - I'm not sure I've had seven dates in my whole
life.
And so in spite of the fact that I am currently talking to someone who I happen to like
a lot (and who I don't think reads this blog yet), I said "yes". After all, who's to say that this will work out? I might be a more highly evolved version of myself these days, but I am certainly not going to put all of my eggs in one basket. Maybe it's wrong to be a "grass is greener" kind of girl, but I figure if I'm taking the time to mow my grass, I might as well give a few gardeners an opportunity to sow.
Fast forward to yesterday morning, when I go to the website to register. I put in all of my information, with only a shred of hesitation before I click "submit" to spend $25 of my hard-earned money in the hopes that the Love of My Life is being dragged along by
his persistent friend. I sit back in my chair and breathe a sigh of relief.
Five minutes later, an email appears in my inbox, from the event's organizer. Hmm. Is she going to ask me a bunch of questions, a la eHarmony, to see who to match me up with? Is she going to politely notify me that no other women have signed up, save for me and my friend, and that the ratio will now be 2:50? (Odds that I like very much, thank you. I can be picky about certain things, but I'm pretty sure that at least 1 in 100 American men have been subjected to my flirtatious ways, so I figure I could find someone in that 50 that suits my fancy.) Apparently not.
I was shut out of Turbo Dating.My first thought was to wonder how the f*ck I could be rejected from Turbo Dating. I mean, is the entire purpose of this to be a free-for-all for whoever is interested in meeting new people?
As it turns out, more than the allotted amount of people had registered for the event, so it was at capacity and they couldn't take any more people in. I was politely told that I would be placed on a waiting list and would be notified if there were any openings.
And this, my friends, was where the Principles of Economics kicked in and I began to seethe. This is a basic case of supply-and-demand. How is Turbo Dating a scarce commodity? Doesn't it just require a few people and some chairs? Do they not want to make as much money as possible off of this? I mean, f*ck, pull a hobo off the street and throw his ass in a chair - who would know the difference? (Sadly, I suspect I would probably like him.)
All of a sudden, I was overtaken with a wave of passion to do whatever it took to get into Turbo Dating. Much like the mirroring of my love life, the less it wanted me, the more I wanted it.
So I turned to my good buddy CK, who is the most genius blend of rational and asinine that I know (and yes, that is a compliment), for a consult.
And what we concluded, my friends, was this: this little Turbo Dating Gatekeeper couldn't stop
me from going. I mean, who's to stand in the way between me and Holy Matrimony? So we came up with a few ideas to crawl into the loopholes as I navigate the jungle gym of love, Turbo-style:
- Show up. Claim that I never recieved my rejection email, and throw a tantrum (complete with soliloquy discussing the dangers of Internet fraud and the unfortunate consequences identity theft holds for its victims) until the TDG surrenders to my whims and allows me to get jiggy wit it.
- Show up with my friend, who was smart enough to register for this weeks in advance, since apparently Turbo Dating is like the Sugar Bowl of social events. Insist that we participate as a package deal, and that we can equitably split our time with the seven men into two three-and-a-half-minute sessions per man. Despite prior hesitation to know someone in seven minutes, three and a half minutes is about three times as long as some of my past sexual experiences. And that would still be 24.5 more minutes than I'm getting now, with just enough time left over to eat a sandwich and send some texts. Brilliant.
- Show up early. Set up two extra chairs and an extra table while TDG is not looking. Sit down in extra chair and put on pouty face when supposed "date" in chair across from me does not show up. Proceed with six men in forty two minutes, a world record that only Jenna Jameson could hold a candle to. Or Linda Lovelace. (And points to me for old-school porn reference.)
- Show up. Attend with a short wig and a suit. Pretend that I am a man so that...shit, this won't work.
- Show up. Strategically place self just outside of venue. Wear sandwich board that states, "Last Chance For Romance". Make like TLC and Creep until event is over. Pose as exit poller, and ask attractive men to gauge success. Offer self up as an alternative. Fall in love accordingly.
I think these are some pretty solid starters, but as you're well aware, I'm always open to suggestions and (constructive) criticism.
And if you happen to be the guy I'm talking to and you happen to be reading this, please know that I am only kidding and I'll see you this weekend...if, that is, I don't make some better plans tomorrow.
Yo Momma...No, Seriously
On the brink of the Thanksgiving holiday, allow me to give thanks for the fact that my friend Robyn gave my name to a producer for "Yo Momma" on MTV. The producer will be calling me next week to set up a time for me to audition to be on the show. No, seriously.
A few months ago, she went to the open call for "Yo Momma" contestants and now the producer is looking for more recruits. And of all of the friends that she has, apparently I was the first person she thought of.
Truth be told, I am not so much into this idea, but the last thing I want to do is embarrass the shit out of myself in front of MTV, so please - feel free to leave your joke suggestions below.
I am in Atlanta this year for Thanksgiving, but likely will be spending the rest of the week with my family (who is in town), so until next week, Happy Thanksgiving and safe travels to all.
The Gambler's Guide To Hedging Your Bets
On the heels of my last post, I realized that I wasn't done talking about playing the field. Oh no, not done at all.
A few days after aforementioned post, I was having a nice chat with an old boyfriend, who at one point in the conversation, referred to himself as a "pawn in my game". I was mystified - a pawn? A game? I never even learned to play chess, and I sure as hell always cheated at checkers. It just seemed wrong that someone would think so low of me as to assume that I just got into as much trouble as I could, only to bounce Kings off of one another. Hmm...I could be wrong, but this smelled like a post all its own.
Allow me to state for the record: humans are not pawns.But as a single girl just trying to enjoy life, let me state for the record that
the whole entire world of dating and hooking up is definitely a game. Let's not deny ourselves - in the world of relationships, we're all players. We figure out what we want (or who we want), we do our research, we hedge our bets, and when the time is right, we go after who/what we want, or the Payoff. There's nothing wrong with that.
So when you're faced with choices, you need to do a little thinking first. I like to call this "hedging your bets". It's a smart and calculating thing to do, if you can handle it.
Allow me to provide you with an example. This past weekend, somewhere in between my first rum and Coke and the exact point at which I blacked out, I was hanging out with friends and met this guy. The guy, who I'll refer to as D from now on, was all over my shit. He, acting like the player we all are, had seen something he liked, and was going for it. Can't blame him, as my milkshake has known to occasionally bring boys to the yard.
But unfortunately for poor D, I had my eye elsewhere. There was nothing wrong with D - he's perfectly nice, perfectly sweet, but not my type - and coincidentally friends with someone else I liked. So when the opportunity presented itsself, and he kindly asked if he could take me out to dinner sometime, I told him that I had to be honest with him and that I was into another guy.
(And for those of you who have known me for a long time, we all know that the fact that I've held out for someone else is definitely a new learned behavior, so do as I say, not as I've done. And doesn't this serve as some sort of evidence of my evolution? I'm not a shit anymore! I'm an honest girl!)This, my friends, was a perfect example of "hedging my bets". It is the act of easily being able to have someone, but instead of capitalizing on the opportunity because - hey, let's face it, sex is great, and so is a free dinner - we hold out for what, or who, we really want. And fortunately, in that instance, I got it. And all was well with the world. I was honest with the Gambler, I went for the Payoff, and I beat the House. Not literally. This is not soft porn for Christ's sake, it's a post.
Now, sometimes the gamble doesn't pay. Sometimes the odds are just stacked against you and the House wins. Or, depending on the circumstance, we make the wrong choice and go for what's in front of us because we don't want to hold out for more. And you know what, that's okay. Shit happens. But as long as we don't lose sight of what we want in the long-term, we should be copacetic with knowing that we do the best we can.
My point is, whether you like it or not, if you're in this world and you don't have a teammate, you're forced into the game. So play it hard, and play it smart.
And bring lots of money. That couldn't hurt.
Ring the Alarm! There's a Group of Guys Pissing on a Fire Hydrant
In the interest of keeping my introductions to topics shorter (since I received a reader complaint that my blog was good on content, but rather bad on brevity), here's one thing I've been thinking about quite a bit lately that eludes me to no end.
Why are women more territorial than men?It came up in conversation with my friend CK today, and after half an hour of running around in circles discussing it, we unbuttoned our respective pants and let out big sighs of bewilderment.
(Related tangent: This conversation happened over instant messenger, no less - and I'm sure the IT people at our respective agencies are pulling their taffy over the kind of shit they read from me on a daily basis.)Let's think about fire hydrants. A Fire Hydrant, as I like to call him/her, is a person who - for lack of a better term - is an object of wanton desire. It's the girl-next-door who your friend cheats on all the time, or the guy you wish you'd found first. And in a girl's world, once that bitch sniffs out the fire hydrant, it's a goner. But in a man's world, it turns into a complete pissing contest. You've got dogs lining up from all five boroughs just waiting to take their turn pissing on the fire hydrant.
Allow me to explain further. If a guy - any guy - has dated a girl within a particular group of friends, he's hers and hers alone. Chances are, no other girl within that group of friends would touch the guy with a twenty foot pole (ten seemed too short for this example) once his original relationship with the girl was over. That guy is in that girl's arsenal of men forever, and her friends - good friends - will likely rebuff any advances he could ever make on them.A girl, however, seems to be fair game to a guy and
any of his friends. I have witnessed plenty of situations where a guy has any sort of relationship with a girl, and after the relationship, his friends jump on her like Tom Cruise to an ottoman. It seemingly makes no matter to a guy's friend if she's bent over and twisted around and played Reverse Cowgirl with his best friend, because as long as she's interested, she's fair game.
Why is this, and what's the explanation behind it? I have witnessed so many guys - best friends, brothers, what have you - throwing their fellow men under the bus to try and win someone over. Are there really so few good girls out there? Are men more genetically predisposed or even culturally dispositioned to forgo loyalty in pursuit of happiness? Or are women just objects in these situations? Is it about stealing your buddy's happiness? Coveting thy neighbor's wife? Isn't that a violation of one of the Ten Commandments? And why the f*ck am I even referencing Commandments?
Both CK and I agreed that we have each been in a situation where, at the beginning of the night, it seems as though one guy will make a play. And then - unbeknownst to us, his friend, the Dark Horse, comes out of the woodwork and stages a hostile takeover. One moment you're hearing Buddy #1 whisper something a little naughty and right up your alley, and then the next thing you know, you're fending off Buddy #2 on the dance floor as he tries to simulate some sort of sex act on your behind to the tune of Big Pun's "Don't Want To Be A Playa". This kind of wack shit would never happen with two girls - boriqua or morena. Explanation, please?
My point is, special circumstances and exceptions aside, it seems to me as though men have less of an issue with trespassing on someone else's property as women do, plain and simple. I'm interested to hear anyone's thoughts on this. Are women really more territorial than men?
You Looked Great in Kuffs!
In 1992, I went to see the movie "Kuffs" with two of my good friends at the time, Annie and Sara. The movie, starring Christian Slater and Milla Jovovich, was about some private investigator guy with a grudge that had a lot of sex with Milla. And I think there were bad guys in it or something also. But the main point being that I dragged my very good friends there to see The Man I Believed I Would Marry - Mr. Slater.
On Thursday, I headed to a business lunch at the Capital City Grille in Atlanta, and had the good fortune of sitting approximately three feet away from none other than Mr. Christian Slater, who was at the Next. F*cking. Table. No joke. I about died when the maitre'd sat us next to Mr. Pump Up The Volume and his companion, who appeared to be a James Lipton-wannabe reporter with wiry-glasses and a head so bald I'm pretty sure his real name is "Eagle".
I couldn't believe my luck - was today the day that I was going to meet my fate? Would I be known as "KA Slater" from this day forward? Would I have to sell my house? Was I ready to deal with the freshly-divorced Mr. Slater and be willing to take his two kids from a previous marriage as my own? Would he get along with my cat? Is he a missionary-style man? Would I have to adopt kinky sex practices and a collection of La Perla (paid for by Mr. Slater) to satiate his deviant celebrity appetite?
The truth is, I'm a confident girl, but I don't think I could nail an A-List Celebrity. I don't even have the patience or the energy to pretend that I don't care about their fame. I'm too transparent, and I suspect that my licking every camera that came within five feet of me might very well give away any motives, should I ever date a Big Deal.
But B- and C-List Celebrities? Same motive - to get as much press coverage as possible. Together, my B-List celebrity boyfriend and I could invent a new type of French kiss. One that involves cameras and stage makeup and a red velvet rope. Plus, they're way more accessible and vulnerable to manipulation. And I've met plenty of them, too:
- 1996: See John Bobbitt at a mall in Las Vegas.
- 2000: Shake hands with and talk to Gavin Rossdale (although since then, he's crossed into A-List, right?) after following his tour bus to Millett Hall on a college tour after Microbiology class
- 2000: Meet Ed Burns at Central Park while on Spring Break and loudly announce that I am single, which promptly earned me an eye roll from Mr. Burns (and also which was a lie, as Boyfriend at time was simply not in New York with me)
- 2003: See Tom Arnold at P.J. Clarke's on State/Division in Chicago. Send over a bottle of wine because it's funny, only to have the waiter return it due to Arnold being a recovering alcoholic (whoops). Arnold buys drinks and dessert for myself and group of friends, asks friend and I to meet up with his crew later (we did not), and told me I had "a nice rack".
- 2006: Meet Jackee Harry of "227" fame at network presentation. Take Polaroid as souvenir. Literally - Polaroid. Apparently if you're of 80's fame, you still capture fan pictures with Polaroids.
- 2006: Stand outside valet at Westin Buckhead and strike up conversation with Cam'ron and Juelz Santana. Take picture on camera phone with Cam'ron. Promptly revitalize dream of being a Fly Girl.
Which brings us to Christian. I contemplated running up to his table and asking for an autograph, but that seemed lame. I contemplated calmly dropping by the table and telling him I loved him in "Kuffs", but thought he might think I was making a mockery of him. Unfortunately, I had to act like a consummate professional (and I didn't have my Polaroid on me) so I simply ate my lunch and spent 45 minutes staring at Christian Slater's 1993 Gap jeans and blue suede Pumas. And then I was hit with a wave of shallowness - suppose Mr. Slater and I did hit it off and fornicate and cohabitate and possibly marry. Beyond the fame, beyond the money, beyond all of the AG Club jeans my little heart could handle - could I really deal with a B-List celebrity who peaked in 1989 and dresses like Soul Asylum until the pre-nup conditions wore off?
Mr. Slater, you looked great in Kuffs, but unfortunately for you, French kuffs are out. Best of luck with your career.
I Am A Homeowner
Well, congratulations are in order. After almost a year of househunting, I finally cemented my decision to put down roots in Atlanta - literally. As of yesterday morning, I am officially under contract for a 2 bed, 2 1/2 bath townhouse! This is great news for many reasons, detailed in the list below:
1. I no longer have to throw away rent on my shit apartment which looks like it was decorated by Newt Gingrich, or someone equally as conservative and boring.
2. I am no longer a slave to my single old lady neighbor, who has an array of pets and plants and conveniently stops me to chat when I have thirteen bags of groceries in my hand.
3. My current apartment has been cursed with the ghost of boys that sleep over and don't touch me. This is a very bad situation I feel I need to get out of immediately.
You see, when I first moved into my place a year and a half ago, I didn't have high expectations for ass-age. But sometime during Weekend 2 of my residence, I had a surprise sleepover visitor who effectively helped me to christen the apartment. I thought to myself, "Self, this is great! You're going to get more ass in this apartment than a public bathroom toilet."
Not so, my friends, not so. My overnight visitor came and went, and since then, I think I have actually hooked up in my apartment 3 times in the last year and a half (and I've been single for the majority of this time). I have hooked up aplenty in that time, but
rarely in my humble abode. For some reason, every time someone ends up at my place, they walk into a veritable force field of Negative Ions of Ass Past, because if I had a dime for every time a guy crashed here and I woke up to nothing but a good spoon in the middle of the night, I'd be buying a f*cking penthouse, not a townhouse.
I've believed that this is a curse, and I believe that for the sake of my hooking-up-in-my-own-home health, I really need a change of scenery. So there you have it - a large hundred-of-thousand dollar investment whose glass standup shower stall is guaranteed to see some action.
The "Field of Dreams" hope is still in full effect - if I build it, they will come.
So with that in mind, think of me on February 9th, 2007. Or better yet, swing by. "Open house" on me.
I Enjoy MySpace Far Too Much For My Own Good
Since I know there are a number of newer readers to my blog (and I frankly have not had the time to write, although there are some things in the works - I promise! No writing means too much shit is happening for me to document), I've decided to take the lazy shit way out today and post a little interview I took on MySpace so you can get to know me better. And, if you so desire, feel free to interview yourself and send it to me. Really. I probably won't read it, but I'd appreciate the kind gesture.
You and Jesus go out to dinner - who pays?Jesus, of course! I would show up for sushi and say, "Hey Jesus, what’s up. I'm a Jew. I expect my meal to be free. So unless you pay, I'm out of here."
Pick one state in the U.S. to get rid of permanently?Wisconsin, without a doubt. I've hated Wisconsin since Summer of 2001 and cannot think of one reason to keep it around – especially since Qdoba opened restaurants in Chicago. I hate it so much I even tried to start a faction in late 2005 called "The Union Secedes from Wisconsin", but lost interest before I could plan my first rally.
You wake up as the opposite gender what's the one thing you wanna try?I'd use my part to try and fornicate with an apple pie.
What's an automatic deal breaker in a potential significant other?Jail. A guy in with a felony is not a guy for me.
What is the last movie you saw that actually scared you?Probably that movie where Usher is the hip hop bodyguard hired to protect that girl from Entourage and they fall in love. They almost shot him and I was fearing for the state of his abdominal muscles.
You're sentenced to death and its the morning of your execution, what do you want to eat?Fried chicken from Watershed with creamed spinach and mashed potatoes (extra gravy). You can tell I haven't thought about this, right?
What's something that most people do that you've never done?Drive with an open cup of beverage in the cupholder. And by beverage I mean anything, not even beer or whatever. I just found out the other day that Laura Lee puts cups in her car without lids. Cups in the car without lids? Are you insane? Well, apparently I am for not ever having done so, but I just don't trust my cupholders that much.
Before you die where do you want to go to...?Rio de Janeiro. I have this recurring fantasy where I'm like Stella in "How Stella Got Her Groove Back", except for in Brazil. I just pick up and go to Brazil and some hot 21 year old admires my ass and we slow dance and Whoopi Goldberg is my funny sidekick that encourages me to take a chance on love.
Something you'd really like to do but probably won't ever be able to do?Walk around without any panties on. I'd love to do it, but the thought of just hanging out there unnerves me.
A wild animal you'd like to have as a pet? A jungle monkey. I know most monkeys aren’t "wild", per se, so I added "jungle" to it.
A drug you'll never try?Probably none of them except for the Mary Jane, because although it's been ages, firing up a big fatty sounds awfully good to me every now and then.
If you were an animal what would you be?A monkey. But not a jungle monkey, a domesticated monkey.
Whats something most people don't know about you?I guess a lot of people don't know that I’m bilingual. My Hebrew sure does come in handy…uh…when I'm talking to a Dead Sea scroll.
Worst way to die?I don't imagine burning to death would feel very good. I know this because I've been waxed the wrong way once or twice.
Grossest injury you've ever seen?Jennifer took a pretty nasty spill a few weeks ago, and I swore she was sporting gay pride on her thigh. I'm sure that's not the worst, but I did choke down some bile on that one.
The worst injury you've ever had?When I perforated my ear drum last year. I was out of my mind. I remember the doctor telling me that he prescribed "really strong aspirin" and having my boss send me home because she checked the label on the bottle and I was on narcotics and didn't even realize it.
What city in the U.S. do you want to visit?Seattle. Or maybe Austin. I say Austin because I very publicly love Trent and would love to go hang with him in his new town…just waiting on an invite. Ahem.
What's something you think would be sweet to know everything about?Stocks. Sounds nerdy, but totally true. If I could figure out how to bang the hell out of my dollars without the help of Charles Schwab I'd be a happy girl.
What's one phrase you absolutely detest?"We’ll see". It’s so noncommittal. Someone used to say that all the time and I just wanted to poke him in the eye every time those words came out. Poke poke poke. You wouldn't see shit after that, now would you.
What makes an awesome party?A few good looking single guys, a funnel, a box of Twinkies, and an arm wrestling tournament. I've been to parties with each element, but never one with all of them. Perhaps my future housewarming party will entail all of the above.
What's your material obsession?Leather boots. All shapes, all sizes, all colors. Knee high leather boots will never elude me. Favorite kind of dog?White labs. But puppies only. I mean, full-grown dogs are fine, but puppies in particular are the cutest. Even if they do poop everywhere.
Worst drunken habit?Stealing others' drinks behind their backs. Text messaging. Deciding that now's the time to work on all of my relationship issues. It's a miracle that I haven't contracted hepatitis, been banned from Verizon, or blacklisted from every ex-boyfriend's list. Shit, I have a lot of bad drunken habits.
It's Saturday at 3 am where are you?Screaming "Chili Cheese Pup!" at the top of my lungs and/or on the way to Krystal.
Worst job you've ever had?Serving Chinese food at Phan Shin. I was terrible at it, I made horrible tips, and I came home smelling like Moo Goo Gai Pan.
Ever fallen out of love?I thought I did, but maybe I didn't. Maybe love is just one big cycle designed to make you miserable over and over and over again. I'm exhausted just thinking about it. Next question.
What's the largest age difference between yourself and someone?I'm not a math person, but I can't imagine what the hell this is supposed to mean. If you're referring to what I think, then when I was in graduate school, I once made a guy very late for his freshman English exam.
Have you ever dated someone you met online?No, and more power to anyone who has, but I just can't fall in love with someone's "personality' via World Wide Web unless I've met them in person and know there's chemistry there. No one wants to f*ck a circus freak that they're not attracted to, even if he is "compassionate and family-oriented". Yawn.
Have you ever dated/fooled around with a coworker?I did, and one would think it was a recipe for disaster, but we're still good friends. I'm not sure how his girlfriend felt about it at the time, but I had fun.
Do you have any friends that you've known for 10 years or more??Sure, I probably have three or four that I am still very good friends with.
Would you tell your parents if you're gay?I would. I'm sure they wouldn't be humping the phone with joy, but they're pretty supportive.
Do you walk around the house naked?All the time. This is why I like to live alone.
Where was your first kiss?My first real kiss was outside The A (dorm) at Reserve with Joe. Joe loved me. I loved Joe's friend. I dumped Joe for Joe's friend. Joe now studies genetics at Stanford. Joe's friend is a bartender. I hate myself.
Are you picky about spelling and grammar?Yes. If I see one more person spell "rediculous" with an "e" I'm going to start pummeling random people on the street.
Why did your last relationship fail?Distance. Not really knowing what we got ourselves into. My overcompensating in effort for his seeming nonchalance. One person had their shit together, one person was trying to make life changes. Can you guess who had their shit together? Hi.
Are you afraid of commitment?To some degree, yes. I think I can commit to sleeping with someone and hanging out with them for awhile, but I have a really hard time trying to envision going the distance with someone. I also just started hiccupping as I was typing this. Coincidence? I think not.
What's your opinion on sex without emotional commitment?I say knock yourself out if you can do it. But if you want something with me, it's at your own risk.
Are you a jealous person?Not really. I guess it would depend on what we're talking about, but generally, I compete with myself. Everyone has their own trade-offs, and usually possession of one thing is offset by the sacrifice of something else.
Does it get annoying when somebody says they'll call you, but doesn't?I used to love the phone. I now, short of a few exceptions, hate the phone. So unless it's someone calling with good news or a person of interest asking me out, feel free to bail on me.
If someone you had no interest in dating, expressed interest in you, what would you do/say?If I wanted to hook up with them, honestly, I'd probably mislead them until I was finished. I know that sounds callous, but give me points for transparency. If I didn't want anything from them (as Bethany said), expect unreturned phone calls and physical distance.
What would you rather be doing right now?Nothing, actually. I am quite happy on the couch.
Do you get along better with the same or opposite sex?I usually get along with guys better unless I'm involved with them. But if it's one of my best girlfriends, probably girls. Jury is out.
Can others make you cry easily?No. There are few people who can make me cry, and sadly for me, they're well aware of their powers and choose to flex those muscles from time to time.
Who was the last person to piss you off?Someone who made me cry.
How many hours of sleep do you need to function?To function normally, 8. To function without a cup of coffee in the morning, 10.
Have you ever been attracted to someone physically unattractive?I always thought the guys I was attracted to were pretty attractive. Oh wait, except for that med student Brian in college. I hope he ended up specializing in plastic surgery.
What personality trait is a must-have in the opposite sex?Sense of humor. Goofy, dry, tongue-in-cheek, I don't care. Make me laugh and I'm yours forever.
Would you ever date someone covered in tattoos?I don't think so. I used to think I liked a variety of guys, but I really don't. If you have blonde hair, I probably like you. If you are above 5'10", I probably like you. If English is your first language, I probably like you. And if you are awkward with girls, nerdy, or introverted, I will propose.
Have you ever dated one of your best friends?No, but people I've dated have become best friends. Funny, that one-way street.
