I FEEL BAD FOR NOT FEELING BAD ON VALENTINE’S DAY

Valentine’s day pisses me off. Not because I’m single, but because I’m expected to be unhappy being single, and then I feel bad for not feeling bad.

I get invited to forced get togethers of depressed single people commiserating, branded as Anti-Valentines day parties, and then I have to come up with excuses to get out of them because I’d rather be doing what I do on every other holiday that doesn’t apply to me. Feeling bad about Valentines Day has become such an expectation, that I can’t even say I want to stay home because everyone will think I’m just saying that because I’m sad, so they push even harder to save me from my supposed misery. I can’t even go to the mall alone, because for some reason the presumed female grief gives guys the predator pass. They get on the streets like sharks feening blood, as if just because it’s February 14th, we’re supposed to be turned on by desperation.

Valentine’s day is the perfect example of consumer culture winning over basic human logic. You don’t see people without kids  going crazy on Mother’s day, so why does everyone feel entitled to celebrate the couples holiday?

Don’t get it twisted though. I’m not a cold-hearted bitch with no capacity for romance. In fact, I’m probably more of a romantic than most because I fantasize (and write) about love. The years that I was in a relationship, I spent weeks coming up with the coolest, most unexpected Vday ideas, but the fact that advertisers force us to not only want, but expect our lovers to beg for reservations, and pay triple for some generic gift is precisely why I hate this day so much. February 14th is everything that’s wrong with modern relationships. It’s the market place taking full advantage of our emotions, and forcing this stupid holiday down our throats, so regardless of relationship status, we all feel pressured to be something we’re not—couples included.

The wrath of Valentine’s day doesn’t stop there, it also imposes an unnecessary toll on new relationships in the grey zone. It becomes a test that people who’ve only been seeing each other for a few weeks have to survive. Their status gets measured by their acknowledgment of the day. The natural flow of the relationship gets disrupted by this elephant in the room, and unless the guy’s level of acknowledgment matches the girl’s expectation, the relationship will likely go up in flames.

Ironic isn’t it?

Sex and flowers are way better when they’re unexpected, not when they’re a forced occasion like prom. A healthy relationship is about consistency, not fulfilling a once a year chore. Spontaneity is the spice of life,  and Valentine’s day is an unfair estimate of devotion, especially if the person treats you well the rest of the year. My advice, for all it’s worth, is no matter what your relationship status is, drop the expectation on Valentine’s day because it’s only going to ruin your chances of experiencing true love. Maybe then you’ll be surprised.

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VALENTINE’S DAY FLOWER DELIVERY….

 

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30 IS THE NEW 21

I’ve been saying this ever since I realized the only reason why I feel like I’m always one step behind the 8-ball is because my mother won’t stop reminding me that I need to get “serious” about dating. As if graduating college on a scholarship, finding a dream job, becoming financially independent, and starting a business by 28 in this horrible economy are minor achievements compared to the Holy Grail aka getting married and having kids. She even goes as far as coming up with elaborate “how to catch a man” strategies, and encourages me to spend my weekends at places like med school libraries… Kill me!

I can’t blame her for the way she thinks though. Most of our parents see the world through a prism where normal means married at 22 with two kids before 30. To top it off, my mom grew up in a country where unmarried women over 30 are considered “torsheedeh” which literally translates into “rotten”, so I can see why she’s afraid I’ll go to waste if I don’t find someone soon.  It probably doesn’t help that I don’t tell her about the guys I date, but it beats yelling at her just because some douche bag hurt my feelings and I don’t feel like talking about it.  Because of this, she now Facebook stalks me, sees pictures of my guy friends at parties, and doesn’t realize she doesn’t have to advise me not to date party boys. Basically, in her eyes, and probably in a lot of what I call my virtual friends eyes, I am a party girl who needs to grow up, and my 30th birthday is a ticking time bomb, after which I will no longer be a high demand commodity.

O Facebook, how I love and hate the way you manipulate people’s perception.

30s are the modern woman’s prime, not the beginning of her decent into the live alone with cats abyss. Being single is both fun and painful, but as much as we all want to be in love, have sex on demand, and not deal with any of this bullshit dating drama, it’s nice to have the bed all to yourself, flirt text 15 guys relentlessly, and be able to leave town on a whim. I admit as I get closer to the 3-0, I am finally ready to share my bed, but I don’t think I’ll be alone forever if I stay single until I meet the one I want in it more than twice a week.  You can’t just willie‑nellie give the keys to any persistent guy who wants to be your boyfriend just because it doesn’t work out with the guys you like. Casual relationships turn into serious ones that either end in marriage or break up, so assuming you don’t plan on breaking up when you start a relationship (in which case you have issues), you’re essentially making the decision that your cute new boyfriend has the potential to become the father of your children one day. The decision to move someone out of the “this guy I’m dating zone into the official “BF” category is so major that it should not be made with a something is better than nothing mentality.

That’s how people end up getting divorced.

I’m not in denial about the biological realities of reproduction, but why rush the monkey out of the gate?? You’re only in your 20s once, and the last thing I want to be is some 35-year-old divorcee at a club, because I decided to get married before I knew who I am or what I want. You can’t be happily married if you don’t get the wild and free out of your system, so own it because 30 really is the new 21.

What Is It About 20-Somethings? – NYTimes.com.

TO MY POINT YESTERDAY… THE VICE GUIDE TO ADULTHOOD | VICE

To my point yesterday, and when I wrote STOP YOUR BITCHING BOYS. IF IT WEREN’T FOR THE CRAZY, YOU’D BE OUT OF BUSINESS. 

LOVE VS. FUCKING

“They say that a life worth living is a life worth sharing. They also say that if you’re an asshole all the time, you’re going to slip on a wad of hair in the shower, hit your head, suffer a contusion, and die. No one will find your corpse until it begins emitting a stench so powerful that it cuts through all the curry and jerk chicken your neighbors are making in your shitty apartment building. In your teens and 20s it’s OK to be annoyingly picky and indecisive (within reason) about finding the “right one” and eliminating people from your uppity little dating pool because they don’t like your favorite brand of deodorant, or because they are Nazis about recycling.  Eventually, if you’re lucky, it will dawn on you: “OHHHHHH! I’m the asshole here! Not that girl who I dumped because she’s allergic to paper!” If someone is nice to you, and your privates find them attractive, love them for as long as you can and as well as you can, and then keep trying for even longer than that because you probably don’t deserve a second chance. Fucking, however, is a completely different thing. Grunting like an animal and ramming your parts into another person’s feel-good cavity/getting rammed in yours is purely recreational, and let’s face it, those hot sluts at the bar aren’t going to be the ones you want to see walk into your room with a stack of DVDS and a Coke Slurpie when you’re home in bed with a fever”

Hallelujah! Someone out there gets it!! It’s like they took my mind, pumped it up, and dick slapped the world with it today.

Enlighten yourself here:

The VICE Guide to Adulthood | VICE.

 

WE’RE ALL A BUNCH OF JADED COWARDS

The idea of being in love and having chemistry with your best friend is inescapably enchanting, yet painfully rare. The Bonnie and Clyde, yin to my yang, us against the world, let’s make a bunch of money, have mind-blowing sex, and not care what anyone thinks because we’re awesome kind of relationship is the ultimate aphrodisiac—At least for me. Somehow in the middle of this chaos we call dating though, we get 25% of the way there, then start over analyzing and freaking out.  I’m blaming dicks and VJs alike here. Case and point:

Boy and girl meet.
Boy and girl flirt.
Boy and girl laugh.
Boy and girl have a lot in common.
Boy and girl kiss.
Boy and girl text every day.
Boy and girl talk on the phone.
Boy and girl start hanging out.
Boy and girl have fun together.
Boy and girl have sex.
One of them wants to keep this going.
The other one freaks out in fear of getting tied down and pulls back.
The unexplained change triggers crazy.
Kaboom!

Here’s the less dramatic version:

Boy and girl meet.
Boy and girl flirt.
Boy and girl laugh.
Boy and girl have a lot in common.
Boy and girl kiss.
Boy and girl go on dates.
Boy and girl have sex.
One of them declares a lack of interest in a relationship.
The other one stays around hoping time will bring them closer and change things.
Boy and girl end up in each other’s rotation for a while.
Boy and girl stay in the grey zone.
The half ass relationship blows up or fizzles out.

In any case, modern day dating has become less about finding love, and more about having control over “The Game”.  The person who avoids “one-itis” like the plague, and stays perpetually less interested will always have the upper hand. Who can blame us? We’ve experienced more heartbreaks than our parents ever did, we know marriage will likely end in divorce, and we don’t need to be in a relationship to have sex.

Don’t hate the player, hate the game. It’s the defense mechanism that keeps us protected—and lonely.

It seems like all those people who picked up a copy of Neil Strauss’s book, read the part about becoming a pick up artist, and didn’t get to the part where his obsession with the game surrounded him with a bunch of miserable manipulative people, and ultimately made him realize that the only way to win the game was to grow up and leave it.  He ended up in a relationship because love conquers all—even the pick up artist. Sadly, Neil and Lisa’s game based foundation wasn’t strong, and they broke up a couple years later.

Yes –the man who wrote the modern day dating manual, has been dating a string of borderline hookers since then.

Our generation is full of cowards. We’d rather hide behind a set of rules written by a few losers running a dead end social experiment, than give love a real shot and god forbid risk having to deal with a heartbreak later. We meet people we are attracted to, and we love spending time with them, but we don’t dare step on the other side of the fence together. We postpone the decision for as long as possible. We keep our walls up, our investment low, and euphemize the whole thing by calling it “staying loose”. Depending on how loose we can stay, we put all of our chances for love in either the friendzone, or the unfulfilling friend with benefit zone, thinking that the day we inevitably get bored with the game, and declare our readiness for a relationship, our soul mate will come riding on a white horse. Ironically, this perfectly timed relationship will probably end due to a lack of “maintaining a relationship” experience, making years of being careful nothing but a fool’s errand.

We can’t schedule love. Trying to control it in fear or missing out, or heartbreak, or trying to time it so it fits into a perfect life plan is a mistake. It will never be perfect, and we’ll never have a guarantee that it’ll be forever, but even if it only lasts a few months, it’ll be worth it because heartbreaks teach us who we are, and experiencing something more than what we’re used to makes us more complete. Because of this, we need to be brave, take risk, and give it every shot we can because there’s really nothing harder or more important to find in life than ❤.

NEW RED BAND MAGIC MIKE TRAILER A.K.A HOT MAN ASS GALORE MOVIE

Who needs a stupid plot. This movie’s gonna bring women out in droves. I’m already planning girl’s night out that Friday. Arrrrrrr

 

STOP YOUR BITCHING BOYS. IF IT WEREN’T FOR THE CRAZY, YOU’D BE OUT OF BUSINESS.

As a passionate proponent of #girlpower without the butch haircut, I’m not really sure if Gloria Steinem saved us from our misery, or fucked us into a pool of sub-par men.

Allow me to explain: 40 years ago there was certain social pressure on men to establish a career in their 20s that would allow them to provide for a family regardless of whether or not their wife worked. They didn’t expect to split the bills 50/50, and if their woman was making more money than them, they would feel emasculated, and do everything they could to reclaim the throne.  Somehow today we’ve reached a point where women under 30 are better educated, more ambitious, and are making more money than their male counterparts, and men, instead of stepping up their game to keep their place in society, feel like a weight has been lifted off their shoulders. They’ve even resorted to calling any woman who doesn’t want to conform to this new world order a gold digger to deflect attention from their own incompetence.

It’s pathetic.

Of course there are always exceptions, but for the most part where producing and raising offspring used to be the women’s responsibility, and working was her choice; today, working has become the expectation, and having children is a choice between giving them to a disinvested nanny, or not having any.

While I admit it’s good to know that the fairer sex is more powerful now than ever, when you throw the sexual revolution and in-vitro into the mix, I can’t help but wonder if we’re headed toward the inevitable insignificance of men. If we have to work and give our kids to a nanny anyway, why do we need a man-child to take care of at home?

Fear not however lazy boys. Feel free to keep spending all your money getting wasted while your mom buys your clothes and pays your cellphone bill at 25, because at the end of the day some beta female will settle for you thanks to a little drug called Oxytocin. The female kryptonite, otherwise known as “The love hormone” is what’s responsible for our clingy behavior. It’s the reason why we get hung up on losers despite our friends’ better judgment, and why we want to be in relationships with them despite their inadequacies.

I’m not suggesting that all twenty something year old men are unambitious losers. In fact, the ones who have their shit together are working harder than any other generation to become the king of a kingdom because the economy is against them; However, our society is becoming dangerously more accepting of incompetent male behavior, and women are taking over more and more responsibility.

The pickin’s are getting slim.

The reality is instead of calling every girl who wants to be in a relationship crazy, the beta males need to make a choice: either step up their game and start reclaiming their rightful place as providers, or keep idolizing George Clooney until they’re 40 trying to lock down a 25-year-old without daddy issues.

Huffington Post: Income Gap Closing: Women On Pace To Outearn Men.