Needless to say, when I go out I have a one track mind. I’m not going to lie. I get dolled up and what not to flirt shamelessly, get a few drinks out of someone, have a witty conversation for about five minutes and decide whether or not I would make out with this guy or, dare I say it, go home with him. I definitely don’t care if they have a girlfriend. I believe in the don’t ask don’t tell policy because, honestly, I am probably not going see this guy ever again. I know that’s a bitch thing to say, but in all honesty (despite my amorality, that, kids, it’s my new schtick) I really don’t care. I’m all about increasing the numbers, man. And, oh, how the “bad ideas” list (my very own version of “the little black book”) is growing and it’s kind of funny that I have more bad ideas than I do family.. but whatever. It happens.

When it comes to the opposite sex I am totally “the boy”–all emotionally withdrawn and aloof to hypothetical boy’s needs, feelings, etc. I am nice to them, but thats because I am a polite person and a lady (even though I don’t always act like it). When I am done with someone, I’m gonna drop him like it’s hot. As that stick figure on ebaumsworld said, I don’t want relationship all i want is bang, bang, bang.

I have decided that I am just waaay too immature to have a serious romantical (yes, I said romantical like I am John Leguizamo) relationship with anyone. I am way too self-centered and selfish to care about some guy’s feelings and what not. But just because I don’t want a boyfriend or as professional tool, Dane Cook, says, “a relation shit”, why do I attract the wrong type of boy? And I know what you’re thinking, and no, it’s not because of the alcohol. I’ve met a ton of boys completely, if not slightly, sober, and no one has even slightly tickled my fancy; let alone kept my attention longer than the entirety of a Jonas Brothers’ music video (shut up, Lily).

As I have mentioned before, I am going through a little bit of a phase. This page is a tribute to the boys that came and went–the flavors of the week, persay. Call it slutty. Call it dangerous. Call it tomato. Call it to-MA-toe. Call it what you will, but I’m doing this for you. Well, not just you, but also, for my own health (I kid, I kid). If anything, you should see this as more of PSA to all the ladies of Chicago. I go through the scum bags of Chicago, so you don’t have to. I think of this as my version of “Make Out Club”, but without the rhyming, more catagorical (is that a word?), and no names (because no matter how big of a loser they are, they still deserve their privacy). So, here it goes, kids, I bring you the mistakes I knew I was making:

“The Case of the Exes”. I know, I know. They’re called exes for a reason, however, I’ve got a soft spot for my phone and, you know, I that when someone calls I will probably answer. I hate not answering my phone and in some ways, it’s my hubris. So they still call and I still answer. It seems like I’m asking for it, but I usually am curious about what they have to say. Anywho, I have three levels of exes:

“The Computer Nerd”. He was super smart. So smart, in fact, that he would rub it in my face that I was not as smart as him. He was a tad pretentious, but with reason (smart, pretty good-looking in a European way, successful, etc). He was a little full of himself and expected nothing but perfection. The one thing he lacked– tact.

He was too honest and very blunt. I can take constructive criticism, but only so much. He expected me to be nothing less than perfect and I thought that I was cool the way I am (obviously, a conflict of interest). He was big on computers and I thought that it would be ever so appropriate if we broke up over AIM. It just seemed like the right thing to do. But out of all the exes, he is the least harmless. Over time, we made amends and became friends.

Now, he kind of works as my back up date from time to time if I know I’m not going to have one or my friends are unavailable because it is their date night. He’s still around because I know that he still has at least a teensy little crush on me, but he doesn’t act on it because he knows better.

Excess Baggage. This guy was my first love–my longest relationship ever (5 years). He was the first guy that I molded into exactly what I wanted him to be. And yes, I am proud of that. He did anything that I asked him to, but, alas, it was only puppy love. Our relationship was based on a little bit of a lie.

First of all, my parents hated his guts (probably because they would find him in my closet or under my bed). Second, homeboy failed to mention that he had a child… in a different country… with a woman who didn’t know that I existed because she thought that they were still together. Yeah, I know. Pick your jaws up off the floor. It was only down hill from there. I cheated on him a lot because I didn’t trust him. I felt that if he could have another girlfriend, I could have another boyfriends… or two… or three. When I got to college, it only got worse. He didn’t trust me at all and it finally ended my second year.

Again, we eventually became great friends the second kind of ex is a great friend. He’s always there for me and I know I can call him anytime just to talk. After a break up or the end of a faux relationship, he’s always there to pick up the pieces. There’s a little bit of awkward tension there, but I know better. However, this back relationship backfires when a new boy comes around (it’s a vicious cycle).But I will always have a soft spot for this one and I will always love him.

“The Cheater”/”The Two-Face”/”The Liar”. This is obviously the third ex. He is a fuck tard. He’s a three-fer this one. He was the perfect boyfriend (in front of everyone else). He had me completely fooled. I completely changed my ways for this guy. I was trying my best to be a good person because I thought he deserved someone good (and that’s hard for me).

It was pretty serious on my side… at least, but then not so much on his. I thought that I was going to seriously marry him. I thought that this asshole that doesn’t even deserve to live was the one. He fooled me not once, but three times… at least. When I thought that I was finally over him, he’d pull the let’s-work-this-out, I-miss-you-and-think-about-you, and I-want-to-be-with-you cards and I’d go back to him like a sucker. When I expressed interest in someone else, he would all of a sudden want me back. I was dumb. This was after the fact that I overheard the voice mails from Casia and some other random broad thanking him for the night that they spent together. This was after I found the empty condom wrapper in his room that I had not been in for several months. This was after a bunch of stupid things.

Did I mention that he was addicted to internet dating? Yeah, I definitely should have known better here. He definitely saw me as a dumb kid because I totally acted like one. Guess it’s true what they say about love… it’s blind. He’s the one I wish would just go away and it sucks that he’s happy (even though he drunkenly texts me pretty sexual messages). He’s the reason why I’m all blah and the reason I’m in this “phase” (whether I’d like to admit it or not). Oh, did I mention, that I hope his penis falls off? Because I do. I managed to poke holes in the condoms that I found in his apartment…. just kidding (except no I’m not because I’m serious).

And I guess to be fair, I only played the part of the innocent bystander, when I was, honestly, doing the same thing. Also, he’s got loose skin and old balls. He likes girls that are at least 10 years younger than him (Hi! That’s me). In fact, I am old enough to be in his first 8th grade class that he taught (isn’t that precious?). He’s got really bad gas and should really consider shaving his back.The best part, his girlfriend looks like Lawfawnda (from Napolean Dynomite), but half Asian. No joke. Ask Lily.

“The All-Star Athlete”. I have nothing much to say about this one. He was your typical jock. We had absolutely nothing in common. Granted, we didn’t have many great late-night conversations (or any real conversation that went passed the initial hello). I guess I just got caught up in the moment. We were just at the right place at the right time. It was mainly for convenience.

“The Gymnast”. He was great. We had so much in common. He was hilarious and so sweet. He had an unbelievable body. He dressed well. He smelled good. He was so hot… a little short, but still hot. He used to sneak into my window when I was at my parents house and he did it so cool. He was a gymnast (duh!) and so he would swing his legs in and dismount or whatever. I don’t know what it was called, but it was a gymnast move. It was pretty cool and it was kind of hot. Eventually, one thing lead to another. We got a little frisky. And all of a sudden, I was not in the mood. In fact, I was no longer attracted him at all. The problem? Two words: Pencil Dick. Oh, and his girlfriend now looks like a Doodlebop.

“The European Fling”. So I lied to this man about my age when I went to Europe, but something tells me he probably wouldn’t have really cared. He was hot and he spoke french. European guys are pretty sexy. We had a pretty intense 36 hours together. I remember him telling me that he pretended to not understand English just so he could get closer to me and talk to me longer. I was very very young, so I thought it was cute. I’m a sucker for the French accent. We kissed under the stars and spent the whole night together… (how romantic) and all morning until I had to catch my train to Paris. He definitely made Brussels the highlight of my European vacation.

“High Fidelity”. So back in my hay day, I dated this kid for maybe two weeks (he claims two months, but whatev). Apparently. he fell in love, but I was kind of over it real quick. I personally have not seen him since, but every so often he’ll call me after the end of a relationship so he could reminisce about our “relationship” and ponder about why it didn’t work out or if we should try again. The best part of our conversations is when he starts to ask me if he was a good boyfriend or not (hence why I call him High Fidelity). I honestly do not remember that much about him except that we dated… very briefly. He was a nice (that’s why we still talk), but I guess it was just a more meaningful thing to him.

“The Moderately Successful Guy That Mom Would Absolutely Love, But It’s Too Bad He Doesn’t Have a Personality or Things Would Have Probably Worked Out Guy”. This guy was super fun… when he was WASTED! He was funny and witty. Things are going well. He’s got a great job and he’s really smart. He was really cool so we exchanged numbers yada yada yada and we meet for a second time (translation: completely sober). He was cuter than I remembered (plus). We went to a cute little bistro for lunch, but OH MY GOD was the conversation dry. He was sooo boring sober, which sucked because he was a way cooler drunk guy.

“The Immature Virgin Preschool”. So I attract boys with the v-cards attached. Why? I dont know. That’s just how things are. That’s cool. Whatev. I, personally, just cannot take virgins seriously because what do they expect me to do? i’m not taking their flower. For all I know, they’ll get all sensitive and turn into the stage 5 clinger. So this guy, imparticular, already had his flower working against him. I couldn’t even kiss him without laughing. It was really bad. Long story short, he couldn’t handle his liquor and I got sick of buying him booze. I couldn’t tolerate his immature hijinks and I felt like I was babysitting half the time. Plus, did I mention that he was a virgin? Because he was and I wasn’t going to deal with that whole mess. Oh and when he got boners, I pointed and laughed. so… yeah.

Update: Preschool lost his virginity, but regrets it. He pretty much inferred that he should have lost it to someone he really really liked instead of some fat girl. Then he went on to tell me that he really really liked me. Well, now, I work with him and I give him points for trying. So, what if I still make out with him? I get bored at work.

“The Bad Ass Philosopher Straight Out of Alpha Dog”. This guy was beautiful–probably one of the better looking boys that I’ve come across. Physically, he was totally my type. I loved how he dressed. He had a shaved head and his eyes–OMG he had the most gorgeous eyes. He could look at any girl and just make her feel like the only person in the world. He had a really pretty mouth and he smoked a lot and made that pretty. He taught me how to roll a joint, but I didn’t pay attention because I was too busy staring at his mouth. He was ridiculously cocky, which I thought was hot. He was super smooth. He knew exactly what to say to a girl to get her interested. He knew how to touch a girl (in a totally non-sexual way… I’m talking about the way he held my hand and shit like that.

And for the record: I didn’t sleep with him). He wants to write the next great American novel. He was sexy. He oozed sex. Everything about him was sex. sex, sex, sex. And I think that was the problem. And by that being a problem, I mean, he was kind of a slut. And in addition to being a slut, he wrote about his conquests like he was Tucker Max (hence, why I didn’t sleep with him). Oh, and, in addition to the addition, he was really cheesy. I love cheese, but he laid on the sharp cheddar. The first time we met he sent me this awesome text message and I quote: “Come back. We will never have tonight again”. I mean, come on. COME ON! Who the f says shit like that? But dammit, I fell for it. He was just so pretty.

Oh, another in addition to the addition, he pondered life like he was Socrates or Plato when he was high and he like took walks to reflect on nature and shit like that. But, I guess, since he’s cute, he’s allowed to be a little bit of weirdo. I’ve run into him a bunch of times since. We can be at a bar and we see each other, but neither of us wants to initiate the convo. It’s the little power stuggle game we like to play. He’s so assinine because he usually wins. I hate him because he’s such an ass, but at the same time he’s just so frickin cute. He’s really bad for me and I know it, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to make out with him still (p.s. hands down, this kid wins best kisser award). I’ll probably end up giving him a call… sometime. Maybe not now… but sometime.

“The Stage 5 Clinger Who Likes to Talk About Feelings and Have Cuddle Sessions”.WARNING: THESE GUYS ARE A BAD IDEA. And you would think that I would have learned my lesson the first say 72 times. I should have known better and I’m not talking about one guy specifically (even though he’s about to cross the stalker line soon). I’ve had a string of these dudes.

First problem here, I’m not a “feelings” person. Me and the feelings? No, not so much. I hate talking about how I “feel” about shit. That’s just how I am. When I drink, I drink to not feel my feelings, so why would I want to discuss his feelings? Second problem, I like my privacy and my cell phone is an appendage to my hand. If you want to date me, that should not be a problem.

So, Stage 5-ers, here’s what you should NOT have done. I set up some rules that I don’t know if you saw, but here they are. DO NOT call me a bagillion times. DO NOT ask me who is calling me, it’s probably not any of your bees wax. DO NOT ask me when I will be getting home so we can discuss your lame feelings. but most of all, DO NOT barrage me with questions that have absolutely nothing to do with you AND do not ask said questions when I am enibriated because I will most likely freak out since you are killing my buzz. OH, and these boys for some reason, tend to the boys that worry that I am partying too much. Uh, NEWSFLASH. THIS JUST IN: FUCK OFF. I’m at my peak. I’m 2o-something-years-old. I am going to do whatever I want to do regardless of what you say or think and despite the horrible stories you tell me about people you know who had unfortunate things happen to them.

Another thing about these guys, from my experience, is that they will talk your ear off about absolutely nothing. They will just talk and talk and talk about their stupid boring lives despite whether or not you want to hear it. I, for one, do not/did not give a rat’s ass.

“The Pretty Dumb Boy”. You know that movie, “The Sweetest Thing”? It was kind of like that, but not as funny. Homeboy was very pretty and I thought that he was just a quiet kid. Then I quickly found out that was not the case. He was just… well… dumb. I feel bad for saying that because he is a total sweetheart and super attractive and really really nice. So nice, that I’m not going to say anymore, except that he was very pretty and a conquest to be proud of nonetheless… looks-wise.

(Off the Record: Let’s just say The Pretty Dumb Boy can be also called The Pinky. Because that’s how he measured up… and I’m being generous. He never would have made it.)

“The Drunk”. Oh, man. These guys are just a barrell of monkeys shit ton of fun. I can think of five guys (at least) that fit into this category… exclusively. Needless to say, these boys know how to party hardy. They’re belligerent and funny and just awesome. It’s just too bad that the next day (if that), they are not so fun. They throw up and get all hung over–it’s a big mess.

And that’s when I sober up. I sit and think yeah… that probably wasn’t a good idea. From my personal experience, he usually ends up being “the moderately successful guy that mom would absolutely love, but it’s too bad he doesn’t have a personality or things would have probably worked out guy”. That’s right… “the drunk” is usually nothing without his liquid confidence. (note: these guys are usually on my bad ideas list with their first name and what bar they were at).

“The Shawty-Lemme-Buy-You-a-Drink Guy”. Okay. This guy(s)’ sitch can go one of two ways: I use the bathroom excuse or I make out with them. It’s just the way it goes. If he’s a creep, I’m not above grabbing a free drink. I’ll hang and talk for a bit. Do the hair flippy thing that girls do. After i finish my drink, that’s my exit cue because I don’t wanna be rude. So I tell them I have to go to the bathroom. 95% of the time I do not have to go to the bathroom.

More times than not, I’m trying to get the attention of the guy that I was eye-ing while I was talking to the creep who bought me a drink. (great excuse to talk to a guy… just say: That guy is creeping me out. Quick pretend to be my bf and make out). But then there are the guys who aren’t so creepy and they’re actually kinda cool and they buy you a drink. If I like talking to them, I’m like thanks… make out make out make out. And that’s that.

“The Professional Cuddler/Spooner”. So, there have been three seperate occasions where this or some form of this has come up. The most recent being last weekend. Let me give you a real-life example. So I’m talking to some guy and we hit off. He says, “Hey, let’s get out of here and cuddle”.

WHAT? I don’t know if you know this, but I’m pretty sure that is a BOLD FACED LIE. I may get “sloshed” so to speak, to the point of no return, but I know better than to go home with guys who say that they’re totally going to keep their hands to themselves and we’ll just watch movies til the sun comes up. These boys are also known as LIARS. They sort of wreak of bull shit… but they’re funny and they’ve got charisma and a huge pair of balls to say some of the crap that comes out of their mouths. It’s just something to laugh about and definitely worth making an honorable mention.

But seriously, if you fall for this crap, you’re just stupid.

“That Guy Who is Like, OMG, in a Band”. I don’t think I ever got his name. Actually, to think of it, I don’t think I got any band guys’ name… except for maybe one. And if I did get their name, I don’t remember. All I know is that band guys are usually hot. The band guy I’m thinking of particularly, was decent. Then he told me he was in a band and he all of a sudden got hot. He was super funny and we got along great. I don’t think I was drunk when I met him either. I just don’t remember his name. But whatev. When I meet a band guy, I’m just like make out time and I’m completely consumed by the fact that he plays a stupid instrument in some stupid band. .

But we all know not to sleep with band guys, right? That is, unless you want the syph or the hiv. Get it? Band guys are dirrty. And there is no need for an explanation as to why. It’s just common knowledge.

“The Hot Shot”. He thought he was the shit. He had the cool nickname. He did the name dropping thing and was always on his fancy phone. He dressed nice and smelled good (good hygiene is always a plus). Why was this guy bad news? Let me tell you. It was probably because he thought that he was too cool for school. And we all know that I have to be the one that’s too cool for school otherwise it wont work. That and his girlfriend didn’t like that we were seeing each other. Oops.

“The Random Meet and Greeter Richie Rich”. This guy still has potential but thats because he hasn’t really had the chance to f up. I met this one when the bars were closing and we were stumbling to wherever it was that we were going. We made an impression on each other and exchanged numbers. From what I remember he was cute. But then again, it is from what I remember… when I was drunk. We still chat, but have yet to get together again.

Update: I met him again… a few times. He was hot. He was very very hot. He was rich… from what I gather. He just moved here from the East Coast (looooove East Coast boys). The few times that we’ve seen each other, we ended up having a sleep-over. Unfortunately, each time, he told me that he wanted to be a gentleman and respect me. And I thought that was very sweet… the first time. And I told him it was cool if he wasn’t, but he was like I want to respect you. So he may be gay… I don’t know. But he was so hot.

“Wal-mart”. First of all, I hate Wal-Mart. The store just skeeves me out. It makes me feel dirty and it’s just so trashy. I, obviously, prefer Target. I am a little bit of a snot to begin with, so every time I step foot in one, I feel like I need to take a shower. Needless, to say, I am not too fond of this fellow.

Wal-mart may be the biggest mistake of my life (next to the third ex). Not only was he a borderline stalking me, he lived in a trailer. Only 6% of the American population lives in a trailer. I’m not judging. This is a fact. Out of 100 dudes, I picked to hook up with one of the six that lived in a trailer. I laughed when he told me that because again, I’m a little bit of a snot and I thought he was kidding. Then he had me paying for his dinners and everything. He had the nerve to ask me for gas money! C’mon… And I’m not knocking on him because he was poor. He was really really dumb. He was scared of revolving doors and escalators.

And in addition to that he was the Stage 5-Clinger of Stage 5-Clingers. Holy temporary lapse in judgment.

“John Cusack”. He is soo nice. He’s a big dork and endearing…kind of like John Cusack. He likes comic books and is into Pop Culture. He is really sweet. And he is really nice. I don’t do nice. And on top of that, he reminds me of my cousin. It’s really weird. They’re doing the movie thing and they’re just too similar for me to think of him romantically.

“Harvey Dent”. He is super duper awesome. He’s funny. We’re into the same things. He’s got a great body. He likes to party hardy. He doesn’t suck when he is sober. He is very smart and has his Master’s degree. He lives close by, but far enough that I have my own space. And he is really really cute…sometimes. It’s like that episode of Seinfeld, where that girl looks really good in one light and really… well… (excuse me for not being PC) like a retard…quite literally. But I think that it is time for to grow up, and I’ve decided that even though someone is not that attractive, I should give them a chance because we have a lot in common and he makes me laugh.

“Penguin”. Since Halloween is my favorite holiday, he is deserving of an honorable mention. I thought that he was cute (after seeing the picture that I took a picture with him). Lily didn’t think that he was anything special. I agree, that he was average, but he was a great dancer for a white dude AND it takes a lot of… uh…personality to dress up as a penguin. He was a decent Halloween hook-up.

“Scotland”. When it comes to boys–two things that always get me: ACCENTS (only European) and FIGHTING. Scotland is from Scotland (obviously) and he is a boxer. How hot is that? Very. He’s got a shaved head and he’s cut. He has a sexy tattoo. He was only for the weekend because of some boxing thing. And I didn’t understand a damn thing that he said, so all we did was make out because that is universal in every language. It was the perfect situation– a great little one time gig. My friend’s bf jacked his phone so he couldn’t call me (long story).

“Goggles“. “NAME IS TENTATIVE” I don’t wanna call him Goggles anymore. He was a friend of mine. And I really like him. He’s super cool and nice and funny and smart. He dresses well and loves video games and comic books. I can go on and on and on about all the good things about him. It’s not that he is unattractive because I think that he is really really cute. AT FIRST… it was just that when I have been drinking, he seems cuter than he really is. But the more I got to know him, the more attractive he became. Now, I like him a lot.

I just think that he’s so sweet. There’s no awkward pauses in our conversations. I’m super comfortable around him. Lately, I’ve been kind of nervous around him and I think that’s good because I haven’t been nervous about seeing a boy for a while now. I think since the last boyfriend. But I think that the reason that I am nervous about this one is because I don’t want it to end as badly as the last one. If that makes sense. Plus, I don’t want to rush into it like the last one.

Update: I like him. He likes me. I think it’s safe to say we like each other. I think we’re beyond the “talking” stage (since we talk a lot), but we’re not quite boyfriend and girlfriend. I think we’re at the fun in between where we know neither of us seeing anyone else, but technically we’re still allowed to, but we probably won’t because I think that we’re pretty into each other and talk all the time. So… I think it’s safe to say… we’re “seeing” each other… technically, not exclusively, but I don’t really want to see other people.

This page is pretty much retired. Not officially, but I think it’s going to get there. Later, bitches!