Tag Archives: Second Hand Embarrassment

Primping for a purpose

25 Feb

Dear Future Hubby,

I know you’re not psychic or anything. If you were, you would have figured out by now that we’re supposed to be together by consulting your brain, or a magic eight ball, or Dream phone or something.  But clearly you’re not and Dream Phone is just collecting dust in closet.  So since you’re not going to go all Ms. Cleo on me, but do me a favor. If you RSVP for a party, actually show up, because careful thought, planning, time, and money go into me getting ready to go to a party where you will be. Actually, just RSVP to begin with so I know right out of the gate if I need to make an effort.

This takes time and effort

Every girl will admit that if we are going out to a party or bar where we think a guy we like is going to be, we put way more effort into how we look. Taking another shower. Putting make up on. Putting contacts in if we wear glasses. Shaving our legs. Using fabulous smelling lotion as opposed to just the regular stuff. Busting out the best perfume we have. Straightening our hair. Standing in front of our closet for an absurd amount of time trying to determine what to wear. Changing said outfit when we decide it’s not good enough. Really, you can see how much planning goes into putting ourselves together if we think we’re going to see you.

A couple of weeks ago, I was going to a friends party when I realized that without even thinking about it, I was primping as if a boy I liked was going to be there. Ok, I’ll admit it. My Favorite Mistake was going to be there. Sure, he’s just a friend, but for some reason, any time I know he’s going to be some place I go, I tend to go through the Party Primping routine as if something is actually going to happen with us. Spoiler aleart: Nothing ever does and nothing ever will.

Regardless, there I was at the party, boozing it up, talking with friends, and MFM was no where insight.  Didn’t he know that I had spent at least an hour and a half getting ready between a bath, clothes, make up, hair, etc.? If he wasn’t going to be there, I could have just gone in my converse, jeans, and glasses and called it a day. Also, make up is expensive. I did not waste precious, valuable, expensive make up, applying it for a party that he apparently wasn’t going to show up to.  Clearly, my inner monologue over this must have gotten through to him some how because he finally did show up, so my efforts were not in total vain.  Thanks, MFM.

"He looks good in whatever he wears."

This goes both way though or ultimately backfires. What if I hadn’t taken the time to look presentable for some event and then you happen to show up. Something tells me you might be talking to the leggy blonde in the corner instead of me. Or I could simply be forgetful and totally forget that I may have an opportunity to see a crush. For example, woke up this morning and dressed weather appropriate which in southern California when it’s raining means jeans and Uggs. Add a blah top, a scarf, and my glasses, it’s a pretty ok outfit. It wasn’t until halfway to work that I remembered that I could potentially have a legit run in with one of my celeb crushes today. And not just a daydream “Oh wouldn’t it be great if whatshisname shows up in line behind me during lunch?” No. We’re talking more than 50% chance that I would run into him at work today. Clearly if I had remembered this, I would have put WAY more thought into outfit choice today.

So do me a favor. If you’re invited to a party or bar of social gathering of any type that I will be at, please RSVP so I know if I need to put in some serious effort. Or a text would be nice reminding me that I will be seeing you and should remember not to wear pajamas outside or just letting me know you’re TOTALLY looking forward to seeing me said social gathering. Because really…what guy wouldn’t be totally looking forward to seeing a girl who can reference Dream Phone and Ms. Cleo all in the same blog post?

Xo,

Your Future Wife

Pass on the PDA

1 Dec

Dear Future Hubby,

Apologies for my delay in writing to you but it was Thanksgiving. And you know what that means? Lots and lots of stuffing. That’s right. Stuffing. My favorite holiday food. While some people go into turkey comas, I go into a stuffing coma, never to be seen again until four days later when I’m supposed to board a plane to head back to the real world.

Paging Awkward, party of two

While it’s the time of the year to stuff your face and invest in some elastic band mom jeans, it’s also the time of year to spend with family. Even though I haven’t met you yet, there will come a time when either you will be coming home with me for the holidays or I will be going home with you. Sure it sounds scary and daunting and every party is nervous before it actually happens, It’s inevitable. As I traveled home last Tuesday, I was privy to lots of couple doing just that; heading home to visit one of their families.  This really isn’t a huge deal when you think about it. The airport was full of these couples, all waiting to board a plane somewhere. I just so happened to be on a plane with the most PDA couple of them all and all I could think was, shit, I never want to be this couple.

Sure, I’d love you to come home to spend the holiday with my fam or vice versa one day, but I refuse to put every single person in the waiting area and then the plane in an uncomfortable situation while we make out every ten seconds. Things only got worse for me when I got on the plane to discover that they were sitting in front of me. I immediately panicked.  The thing about going home to my house is that I fly into a super tiny airport which means only smaller planes can fly in there.  There are only 70 seats on the plane that takes me home which means everything inside is small and that includes the seats. The head rests only come up to the back of you neck which meant that yours truly was subject to an hour and twenty minutes of watching this couple make out, pet each other, whisper in each others ear, all about 10 inches from my face. PDA is so not my style and I’m hoping it’s not your too. While I didn’t actually need to use the barf bag so kindly provided by Horizon Air, there was a point that I thought I might have to use it. Either to barf or to blow air into it and pop it in there ear while making out. Yes, I’m that cruel.

No one is immune to meeting the parents

Rest assured I’m all for displays of affections in moderation, but just not a massive amount of them in a confined space with a lot of people or just in a massive group of people to begin with. I refuse to be THAT couple in which everyone can’t help but stare in disgust or annoyance or maybe jealousy (yeah, there’s always one person that’s like “damn, I wish I had a romance like that”). I’m much more content to hold your hand, tell you that you won’t be given the third degree too much by my family (even though you most likely will) and read a book the rest of the flight.

The world will not come to an end if we don’t make out for an hour and twenty minutes. That will only happen when someone forgets to make the stuffing (or just ruins it) for Thanksgiving dinner.

Xo,
Your Future Wife

Getting down on the dance floor

19 Oct

Dear Future Hubby,

If I look like a spaz on the dance floor, can you please cut me some slack? I have apparently forgotten how to dance.

Damn, I was totally going to wear that skirt.

Well, not exactly forgotten how to dance. I can still bust a serious move when dancing in a group, I’m an excellent slow dancer, and when it comes to choreographed dances, I pretty much have every ‘N SYNC and Britney dance down pat. It’s the whole “hey, lets get all up on each other” dancing that I have apparently forgotten.

On Saturday night, I went out downtown with B-Swizzle and Titfield for B’s sister’s birthday. K-Hizzle came all the way from AZ to party it up at Club Seven and we even managed to convince B’s coworker Puffin to drive a minivan full of his friends downtown to meet us. Clearly, the entire night was a success.  We were all dancing up a storm on the floor where my group dancing skills were put to excellent use. Like I said, I have a black belt in this.  However, the moment I convinced Titfield to hold my purse I found myself pulled on to the dance floor by one of Puffin’s friends. Not just rocking it out group dancing, but dancing ala when Baby meets Johnny Castle in Dirty Dancing after carrying a watermelon or some previous version of my life like prom or a my last sorority formal where more body contact there is, the better. I guess you would say grinding, for lack of a better word.

The first problem with this entire scenario is that I clearly was not drunk enough. Therefore, as I was dancing with said friend of Puffin, I immediately starting thinking the following…

Pretty sure I haven’t danced like this in a long time….wait, when was the last time I danced like this? I’m pretty positive it was before I could legally drink so that’s been at least six years if not longer and I’m pretty sure the guy I’m dancing with just finally stopped having to use his fake ID. Facepalm. Am I dancing right? Do I look like a spaz? This is totally a second hand embarrassment moment except it’s first hand embarrassment at this point. Oh shit, I don’t want to spill my beer. I hope my spaz dancing doesn’t cause me to spill my beer because at this point that is the only thing making this inner monologue more manageable. Thank god I’m not wearing heels.

I'm so much better at this.

It’s not that I don’t like to dance. It’s just that it’s been a while when it comes to dancing like that. Sure, it’s like riding a bike. Sure, you just have to pretend you know what you’re doing and not care what you look like. But let’s all recap, shall we? I’m so not a club girl. Had I been a club girl when I got to LA, standing in line at every hot club in town dressed in my most whorish dress, I’m sure I would be much better at this and doing it every weekend with random sweaty guys. Excuse me while I shudder at the thought of that. That’s just not me though. I’m the girl that showed up on Saturday night wearing a dress…and Converse. I’m the girl that would rather sit at a dive bar with friends than trying to make my boobs look bigger to get into a club without paying cover. I like beer pong and flip cup and while I’m a major fan of dancing, Saturday night was clearly a refresher course. If only they had just wanted to bust out the moves to ‘N SYNC’s Pop. I would have rocked the shit out of that and not been completely self-conscious.

Johnny Castle FTW

Of course, the next time I’ll be put in a situation like this will be in another six years. Just enough time for me to completely forget again. I clearly just need to be more drunk next time.  Please make sure this is the case if you ever feel the need to be Johnny Castle to my Baby. Or at least make me feel like you think you’re dancing like a spaz as well. I’d appreciate the comradery.  

Xo,
Your Future Wife

(Don’t) Pick me up in a Pick-up Truck

21 Sep

Dear Future Hubby,

Please don’t drive a pick up truck. Especially if it has stickers worthy of second hand embarrassment and a torn up American flag hanging off the back.

For serious, Kenny Chesney?

I know I shouldn’t care about what kind of car you drive. I swear I’m not expecting you to drive a Bentley or a Tesla or an Aston Martin. Just…anything but a pick up truck.

I went home to Northern California this past weekend and after cruising the streets of San Francisco for work for a few days, I headed even further north to Wine Country where my mom lives.  Going home is always a nice little treat for me. I get to sleep in my own bed, lay on the couch and watch hours of mindless TV, go to my favorite restaurants, and enjoy some rain because inevitably it is raining every time I go home. One of the other perks of going home is seeing how different the male species is when not in the city limits of Los Angeles. Guys are a little more rough around the edges, scruffier, more manly. No to say that there aren’t manly men in LA, but when you live in the foothills of wine country, there aren’t exactly a lot of guys who go in to get their eye brows waxed and a bi-weekly mani/pedi.

I was in line at the grocery store grabbing my usual stuff for the weekend and wound up in line behind a ridiculously hot guy. Decked out in a Columbia polar fleece, some non-skinny jeans, and a worn in baseball cap, he was delicious and I’m not just saying that because we couldn’t stop staring at each other.  Nothing was said though and he sauntered off into the rain. With only a few items, it didn’t take me long to check out and as I was walking out to door of Safeway there was Checkout Cutie, driving a monster pick up truck, half rusted with a variety of slightly pornographic stickers on it, and a full size American flag hanging off a pole stuck on the back.

Are.You.Freaking.Kidding.Me?

Checkout Cutie has such potential up until that point. I guess I had forgotten that just because I had traveled to a land with some handsome men, I had also forgotten that I kind of live in farm country. Sure, my town isn’t small with over 100K, but the surrounding area is kind of rural. It’s wine country after all. There are more grapes than people. I was clearly very bummed by this event, but went about my day until I went out later that evening and noticed that almost every cute guy I saw at dinner was driving a pick up truck with some sort of decorations on them.

Run far, far away

Like I said, I have nothing against pick up trucks, hell, I even went to my senior prom in one, but there is just something that brings a guy’s point level down just a little if they feel the need to cruise around in a pick up truck with a massive flag and demeaning stickers on them. Sure, they probably use the truck for work. Sure, they come in handy when hauling large amounts of shit from IKEA. But when coupled with rust, sticks, huge American flags, I’m quickly reminded that I’m not just looking too meet the next cute guy that walks by me.

I’ve clearly lived in Los Angeles too long.

Xo,
Your Future Wife.

Paging all cute nerds

28 Jul

Dear Future Hubby,

Apparently you aren’t a cute nerd.

Well, maybe that’s not entirely true. Maybe you are a cute nerd, but if you are, you clearly didn’t show up at Comic-Con 2010.  That’s where I’ve been for the past eight (yes, eight, ugh) days working my little tail off, so I apologize for the lack of letters. I was really more focused on seeing if Seth Cohen 2.0 would pop up somewhere on the convention center floor, riding Captain Oats, and sweep me off my feet. This clearly didn’t happen.

www.thiswouldneverbeme.com

All my friends were convinced that I was going to go to the Con and walk away having met you, but they were wrong. Thanks guys. There was a serious drought of cute guys at the Con. That or I was just too busy to notice. Either way, given the interactions I did have over the course of the week, I’m glad I didn’t meet Future Hubby there (unless you count Tom Hiddleston, which is a whooooooooole other story for a later letter.)

If I had met you at Comic-Con, you probably would caused me second hand embarrassment of so many different levels I would have run from the building. So in case you decide to make an appearance next year, here are some dos and don’ts to get my attention during the craziest convention ever.

DON’T dress up: Ok, half the fun of SDCC is seeing everyone dressed up in costume. No joke, highlight of my day when I can internally chuckle at people for being so balls to wall that they will dress up. I admire them for that but not exactly the greatest first impression.  So don’t dress up like Tony Stark, Batman, Spiderman, Wonder Woman or anything else crazy. Cos play kind of weirds me out.

DON’T stalk me for promo items: If you keep coming up to me and asking me if you can have a bag or when we’re giving away bags again, I’m probably going to get annoyed.  Please remember that while at the Con, I’m barely eating, barely sleeping and living on coffee and caffeine gum. Do you really want our first interaction to be me getting snappy with you over the fact that you’ve asked me for a poster or bag three times in the past hour? The correct answer is no.

DO bring me food and/or coffee: Seriously, I’m not joking about not eating at the Con. On Sunday, I didn’t eat anything until 7 PM at night except for a coffee. This is never a good thing because I go into bitch mode when I don’t eat. So if you see me across the crowded aisle and think to yourself, “Hey, that girl is cute” best way to win me over is to show up with a turkey sandwich and a Starbuck’s.  Not only will you get a free poster or promo bag, but you’ll probably get my number too.

Storm Troopers FTW

DO be excited if you win a giveaway or actually get a promo item (and say Thank You too): You have no idea how many people weren’t excited when they won things. I was handing out tickets for autograph signings with HUGE stars and half the people could care less that they won. HELLO! Get excited.  Don’t just stand in a line simply because there is a line. Be excited when you win AND say thank you. If you’re excited, I’m probably going to find it slightly endearing.  It does a lot to defrost my “I’ve only had coffee” attitude a lot.  If you’re nice to me, I’ll be nice back and notice you. Just don’t be like…crazy excited. Like stalker fan excited. Cause that’s just a little too weird for me, kthnx.

DON’T stab me in the eye with a pen over a seat in Hall H: Why? Do I really need to explain that one to you?

SDCC can totally have meet cute potential, even for normal, non wearing costume people like me.  Let’s remember that next year, ok?

Xo,

Your Future Wife

An Un-Cute Meet Cute: My Driveway

9 Jun

Dear Future Hubby,

I wouldn’t normally consider my driveway a place to meet guys. It’s not like a hopping Saturday night spot with a line around the block. It’s my driveway. But if you think that you can find some way to turn my driveway into a romantic place to meet, than by all means go for it, as this past Saturday gave me hope that even the most mundane places could be potential Future Hubby meeting ground.

My driveway has now become a historical site as it is the place that has provided the most meet cute worthy “un-cute meet cute” yet. Move over, Barista boy and Ireland driver. You just got knocked down on the podium. We have a new contender for meet cute potential while still being…an absolute un-cute meet cute.

NOT how my un-cute meet cute ended - part 1

Saturday morning, at 3 AM, a car alarm started going off outside our apartment. After the disastrous Double Threat ambush I had a few hours earlier the last thing I needed was to lose sleep over a damn car alarm. But seeing as I got my windshield shattered and my car keyed in college, I’m very paranoid about car alarms. I got up to make sure it wasn’t my little Honda, only to find out it was a white truck parked in front of our building. Ugh, ok, back to sleep I went and the alarm eventually went off.

I got up the next morning with a plan to hit up Costco AND Starbuck’s all in an hour and a half. A fete that, if you’ve ever been to Costco, is next to impossible. But I did it and I was quite proud of myself. I didn’t even run over any small children with my cart. When I got home, I began unloaded the bulk toilet paper, paper towels and ramen that I had purchase. I still love the fact that I can buy a 48 pack of ramen for 7 bucks. Score one for me. As I was carting stuff to and from the house, I heard someone approach me on the driveway. I turned around to find a ridiculously hot guy I had never met before. Um, was he some sort of prize for making it through Costco while avoiding all the sample stations cause if so…I need to go to Costco more often.

He wasn’t though. He was the owner of the white truck out front that unfortunately, had it’s window smash in at 3 AM, causing the alarm to go off. I told him the details, the time, but unfortunately by the time I had looked out the front window, I didn’t see anyone, nor had I noticed the window smashed. I apologized, pissed that I couldn’t be of more help to him, especially since he was totally adorable. And what does he say? “Oh no, I’m sorry that the alarm woke you up.” Excuse me while I swoon momentarily. Are you serious? You just got your window smashed in and YOU’RE sorry? We chatted for a few more minutes about contacting his insurance company, how we had parking behind our building so we weren’t parked on the street, etc. He finally ventured off and I sat there kicking myself for not asking if he lived in the neighborhood, if he needed any help cleaning up the glass, if he had a girlfriend, you know the general questions you ask when you’re approached by a hot guy in your driveway. I vowed that in the coming days I would try and see if ever saw the truck again in the neighborhood to confirm if he lived around me.

NOT how my un-cute meet cute ended - part 2

In all of my “Oh, I may have a cute neighbor/dude just chatted me up in my driveway” excitement, I failed to realize that it was probably best if I never saw him again. I quickly realized what I had been wearing during the whole interaction Track shoes, a Friday Night Light t-shirt, spandex work out pants, and a greasy ponytail. Plus I was holding a 48 pack of ramen. First impression fail. My lack of fashion sense for a Saturday morning had just turned my potential meet cute into an un-cute meet cute.

So FH, if you ever feel the need to approach me in my driveway, can you make sure I’m dressed like a normal person that looks like she’s actually taken a shower and put some thought into my appearance? For the record, I had taken a shower before the Costco run. Next time I hear an alarm going off outside my house, I should make sure to be wearing a ball gown the next morning on the off chance that a hot guy approaches me in my driveway to inquire about a busted window.

Xo,
Your Future Wife

Flirting with “Flair” = Fail

27 May

Dear Future Hubby,

Please don’t expect me to flirt with you or hit on you or hell, even think I have a chance with you, if we meet while I’m working at Hot Dog on a Stick.

No, I don’t actually work at Hot Dog on a Stick. Sadly, that stopped being my life long goal at the age of…oh, NEVER. But something struck me as odd this morning when I went to pick up my usual morning coffee (and no, my uncute meet cute Barista was not there). As I was waiting for my coffee, I looked over to see the girl manning the register offering the guy she was helping a free drink that morning.  I honestly wouldn’t think anything of this as I’ve been fortunate enough to get a free coffee every once and a while, but once I noticed how she was blatantly leaning over the counter towards him, smiling really big, and then continuing to try to talk to him as he’s headed to the door, the flashing lights start to go off: “Flirting Fail!”

Hi, I work at Hot Dog on a Stick. Isn't my outfit hot?

Poor girl. I couldn’t even imagine trying to flirt or hit on someone while serving them at a food establishment.  You’re wearing an apron and a visor, and a disheveled ponytail that gives you that whole “I just woke up an hour ago and I’d rather be asleep” look. I wouldn’t want anyone to see me like that let alone a whole line full of people who have not had caffeine yet. Honestly though, Starbucks is probably one of the least embarrassing food service uniforms. Not clashing colors, no matchy matchy, and pretty comfortable. There are far worse uniforms that someone could potentially wear that would seriously hinder any hook up possibilities.

1. Hot Dog on a Stick: I once heard someone say that the outfits they have to wear are cute. Excuse me, what universe were they living in? Those hats are huge and while they do spend the day serving the most sexual food ever, there is nothing cute about having to serve a guy you like a corn dog while looking like someone with a deformed head. Primary colors don’t look super great on people when put all together. Plus, why do they make some people where they tank top version of the uniform? Who wants to wear a tank top in the middle of winter in Skokie, Illinois or some place? No one. You’re not fooling us. We know it’s 12 degrees outside and we know you’re freezing.

2. TGI Friday: I’m sorry but stripes don’t look good on anyone. I don’t care how skinny you are or how great they make you look. You don’t look great. You look like you belong in jail, not serving me up a strawberry daiquiri while asking me what I like to do in my spare time. Plus, I’m sorry, but I can’t look at your “flair” without thinking of Office Space and then my mind just starts recounting great quotes from that movie instead of paying attention to you.

"Doesn't it bother you that you have to get up in the morning and you have to put on a bunch of pieces of flair?"

3. Hooters: Yes, guys love them. Girls…not so much. I can’t even begin to imagine trying to hit on a guy while wearing an outfit I would be COMPLETELY uncomfortable in. Who honestly thinks that those are cute and comfortable?  They just look trashy and there is nothing attractive about trashy. Every guy is oogling you and every girl is judging you.

4. Cheesecake Factory: Yes, there food is amazing. Yes, their cheesecake is even more amazing. Not amazing? Making their employees dress in all white. I’m sorry, who looks good dressed in all white AND a tie? Plus, I’ve never seen anyone’s pants fit them at Cheesecake Factory. They always look way too big, as if wearing white doesn’t make you look heavier than you already are. Go buy some Scotch Guard and see you later!

I’m fortunate enough that my “uniform” is my own clothing which generally consists of jeans, tops, Converse or ballet flats. I honestly feel that wearing what you’re comfortable in gives you more confidence and if I’m going to pursue you, I’d like to have as much confidence as possible. What you wear helps to make that first impression. It helps to say, “Here I am, this is who I am and if you don’t like how I dress, well then too bad because this is a reflection of my personality.” Sure, a crazy outfit is not a deal breaker, especially if you’ve been forced to wear it by your employer. I’m just saying, if you do happen to work at a place with a crazy costume,  I wouldn’t NOT notice you or talk to you. It just may take me a few minutes to get over the shock of finding a guy in a Hot Dog on a Stick costume hot.  Guys in tank tops kind of weird me out. Sorry.

Xo,
Your future Wife

Cute, but do you have a curfew?

20 May

Dear Future Hubby,

Please be old enough to buy a drink legally. In the US.

I can’t even begin to express the disappointment I face when I meet a cute guy and just have that feeling. That feeling that there is just something off about him. He’s cute. He’s funny. He’s flirting with me…oh wait, here it comes. He’s 20. That’s only two years past jail-bait territory. That’s like just a tad better than drooling over  a newly 18 Zac Efron back when the first HS Musical came out..  Excuse me, but I’m 26.  Shouldn’t he be out trying to find hot sorority girls to hit on? Yes, I know I was a sorority girl back in college but I graduated in 2005. He still have semesters ahead of him.

Yup, this photo made my day. I don't know if I can be a tennis fan anymore.

I think that as we get older, guys all start to blend together in terms of age.  You can’t tell the difference between someone who is 22 and someone who is 28 unless there is something drastically off about them. As long as they’re nice to us and easy on the eyes, age is one of the last things that comes to mind. It’s like “Oh yeah, now that we’ve been totally hitting it off for the past two hours, I should probably ask, do you want to get a cup of coffee?…Oh, you’re already out past your curfew? Oh well, in that case I better let you go while I go die of embarrassment in the bathroom. See ya.”

Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against dating someone younger. Or older. I mean, I’m the girl that was totally all about the 38 year old she met when she was 25 at the Daily Pint. Believe me, I’m pretty sure I’ve been on the other end of this situation. But 20? Really? I know everyone says age is just a number but 20 and 26 just seems too far of a stretch. If I were 35 and he were 29, I think I might be more willing to consider that, and not just for the fact that I wouldn’t have to be worried about him getting arrested for using a fake ID when we go out. As much as I don’t like to admit it, as much as I like to be open to all possibilities, I honestly believe that regardless of how cute someone is or how much we get along, 20 and 26 are just two different worlds completely.

He asks me for bar suggestions for “Thirsty Thursday” while my Thursday is going to consist of watching the Grey’s Anatomy finale and (probably) crying my eyes out. He still has to finish college. I’ve already been to school. Twice. And am now the owner of two really expensive pieces of paper that say I’m kinda sorta smart. I’ve had jobs. Not just working part time at the Starbuck’s to make some extra cash, but 8 am to 8 pm kind of jobs. The kind where you have a 401K and a work related email account.

Hey, it's my Starbuck's line friends! Ashton, are you out past curfew?

This isn’t to say we don’t have things in common. I’m sure that we do. In fact, I know that we do. We wouldn’t have been talking to begin with if we didn’t. But I’m over in my world and he’s in his and right now, the two worlds just aren’t mixing all that well. The older you get the easier it is to cross paths/line your world up with someone who is older.  It’s easier to relate to one another and to have more common interest.  Yes, I know we both have common interests, like flip cup, movies, and enjoying second hand embarressment, but he’ll still like those things when he’s 26. I’m proof of that.

I know that age differneces like this work out. I mean, take a look at all those girls on 16 and pregnant. I’m sure at least one of those girls was dating a guy in his mid twenties.  Sometimes age differences work, sometimes they don’t. I just don’t feel like being Demi Moore right now and as cute as some guys are, Ashton Kutcher has got a monoloply of the older women thing. At least until those guys get older. So add me on facebook, be my friend, keep in touch, and look me up when you can buy me a drink legally, show me your really expensive dipolma, and trade war stories about jobs.

Ugh. This is just like when we girls all felt slightly disgusted with ourselves about thinking Taylor Lautner was cute when we was 17. Sure, I know 20 years old way beyond that point, but trust me, I’m going to need a little while to get over the “Oh, you’re cute, I think I like you…oh my god, you’re too young for me to like. I must go hide in shame” moment.

Xo,

Your Future Wife

Don’t force me to use a “Fake Boyfriend Story”

17 May

Dear Future Hubby,

If for any reason, you meet me and I throw you a “fake boyfriend story” to begin with, you have permission to judge/mock me for it for the rest of my life.

Meet Adam, he's a magazine writer

What is a “fake boyfriend story,” you ask?  Well, it’s a gem of a tool we girls use when put into the horrible situation of being approach/pursued by someone we have absolutely no interest in.

I’m sure that if you are Future Hubby, the chances of me using a fake boyfriend story on you are slim. However, I’m just covering my basis and giving you a heads up that I am not beyond using one to avoid any and all awkward “I have no interest in you so please stop complimenting me on my sunglasses or doing favors for me” interactions.

Here’s the play by play…

Girl is approached by guy that she has absolutely no interest in.  This could also come in the form of said guy asking a friend to ask said girl if she’s single.  After a moment or two of contemplation on if we are truly interested, we formulate our answer. If we are interested, we, of course, are open to being pursued or tell the friend that yes, we are in fact single. Come on down Chuck Woolery, we’ve got ourselves a Love Connection.

If not, some of us actually say we aren’t interested.  Some of us, however, resort to the “fake boyfriend story.” We tell them that we are taken, fake disappointment that we can’t date them (gee, what a bummer), and move on with our lives. The “fake boyfriend story” only comes into play after this when the guy is persistent and starts asking about who has stolen our hearts away. Some guys just can’t accept no for an answer.  Insert imagination overload as we girls try to come up with the best (and most believable) “fake boyfriend story” we can come up with to show you that we are “taken.” This includes, but isn’t limited to the following:

  • The story
  • Flipping the Claddagh ring (Bad Irish karma right there)
  • Moving a ring to your left ring finger
  • Pulling out a camera to show photos of random hot guys we met at the bar and pretend that we not only remember their name but are in fact dating them
  • Drudging up actual stories of old boyfriends and pretending we are still dating them (Ugh, like I really want to relive past relationships)

Guy: Oh you have a boyfriend? What’s he like?

Girl: His name is Adam. We’ve been dating for about three years.  We met back when we were in college

Guy: Oh….nice.  And does he live here?

Girl: Yeah, we live together in Brentwood. It’s a great commute for him because he works in Santa Monica.

Guy: Wow…that sounds…great. What does he do?

Girl: He writes for a magazine.

Please don't force this to be me

Normally, as a single girl, I feel that busting out the fake boyfriend story, brings me bad karma, and maybe it does. Maybe I just need to grow a pair and be ok saying, “Hey, I’m not interested in you.” But I’m sorry, sometimes a girl just has to bust it out when a guy just doesn’t get the message.  Plus it’s also sometimes fun to see what crazy back story my imagination can produce.

Don’t worry though. Like I said, I doubt I would ever use a fake boyfriend story on you. I’m a firm believer in good vibes and if you’re Future Hubby, well, you’re definitely going to have a good vibe that won’t make me cringe and run away. You probably also don’t drive a forklift and are a fan of taking showers daily.

However, I’m just making you well aware that if you ever do get tossed a “fake boyfriend story” by some other (stupid) girl, don’t be upset.  Just move on and keep going because clearly, you haven’t met me yet.

Xo,

Your Future Wife

Avoid the Awkward Express

12 May

Dear Future Hubby,

You better not suck at flirting.

I like to think of myself as a pretty smart person. I’m not overly oblivious to things. I tend to pick up on goings on long before other people do.  So for the love of god, if you’re hitting on me, don’t make it so cryptic that I’m left wondering if you were just bored and trying to make conversation or if you were actually interested. Do I look like Miss Cleo or something? I can’t read your mind.

Awkward Express is now leaving the station

If you are interested, just grow some balls and get on with it. I know that sounds easier than it really is, but if you had been a little more straight forward, I may actually be ok with making the next move, not left wondering what the hell just happened.

The other night I went out to a bar to see a small concert and I ended up talking to this nice guy amongst a group of people I know.  Nothing too out of the ordinary right there. We talked about work, what we do, how we all know each other, how I’m moving at the end of the month, what the new place was like, etc. But when two of the people in our group moved off to talk about something else, I was left standing there with this guy and my soon to be new roomie, sipping my water and trying not to appear awkward.

Even if I had appeared awkward though, this guy clearly would have overshadowed me, both then and for the rest of the evening. We were all hold first class tickets on the Awkward Express.

Awkward Line #1: How are you liking your new place.

My response: Well, I’m moving in at the end of the month, but I love the area already.

My internal response: I’m sure I would be loving it if I had already moved in there, but I haven’t. We just talked about this. Remember? We were standing right over there. We spent at least 5 minutes on the new place, the story of how we just signed the lease and were moving in at the end of the month.  If you are hitting on me, try harder. You should at least remember things we already talked about. At least feign interest, thanks. End scene.

My soon to be new roomie and I went off to find a table to sit at, while he wandered over to sit along on the other side of the bar…until about half way through the show. I’m too busy rocking out to the music that I don’t even notice that he’s pulled his chair up to our table and is sitting next to us now. Um, why hello there. While the roomie was up in front of the stage taking photos of the band (she’s a kick ass photographer) he awkwardly leans over and delivers the next gem of the evening.

Awkward Line #2: How was the set before hand? Was she any good?

My response: Oh, we weren’t here for her.  We came in around nine.

My internal response: Dude, you walked in literally three minutes after us. You probably were walking down the street behind us and saw us scurrying along to avoid the random cold weather in May.  You hopped in to the beginning of our group conversation.  I had a full glass of water and the roomie had a full beer. We’re not exactly big drinkers on a school night so it’s not like we had been there since 6 PM pounding shots of whiskey.  This night couldn’t possibly get any weirder.

Oh, but it did.  After a few more minutes, he then moves from his seat to sit on the booth bench right next to me. Um, really? The place isn’t that crowded. It’s not like that was the last seat available in the place.  He could sit anywhere else.

Awkward Line #3: Is it just me or is it really cold in here?

My response: Yes, it is FREEZING in here!

My internal response: Thank god, I’m not crazy. It is bat shit crazy cold in here. But come on, that’s like talking to someone about the weather.  This is a concert. You don’t HAVE to make conversation with me. I didn’t come here to find Future Hubby, I came here to see the band.  You are under no obligation to actually talk to me while music is playing or otherwise. Can’t we just chill and enjoy the music?

This came up when i googled Awkward Flirting. Gay Eric is ALWAYS awkward. Don't be like him.

Perplexed, I sat there for the rest of the night trying to figure out what the hell was going on, especially after he bolted right when the show was over. Was he trying to talk to me or was he just being polite? While the awkward lines would allude to the polite theory and I honestly wouldn’t be sitting here writing this if that’s all it was. The fact that he moved closer with each line would be a case for the first theory and leaves me wondering.

If you are interested in me, don’t talk to me about the weather or things we already talked about. It’s confusing, especially if you are persistently moving closer to me.  You want to win me over, not creep me out entirely to the point where I block you on Facebook and avoid all social gatherings you will also be present at. I know it may seem daunting to have to talk to a girl. Believe me, girls feel the same way about talking to guys and not coming across like mumbling idiots. Just try to meet me half way though.  Give me something to work with other than awkward lines about a drafty bar and I’ll be more the willing to come up with something that’s hopefully not too awkward to respond with.

Xo,

Your Future Wife

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