B-A-N-A-N-A-S

Dear Ex Boyfriends,

There's most likely a myriad of reasons as to why my relationship with you has ceased to exist. Some of which may or may not include:

1. We grew apart.
2. Distance.
3. You cheated on me.
4. Stress/bad timing.
5. You are completely batshit CRAZY.

Now, those are just the main reasons. And I'm quite certain more than one applies to a breakup we've endured. However, I would like to focus on topic #5 and those it applies to.

Before I delve into things, I would first like to express my apologies if I broke up with you as a result of #5. If you've met my family, you'd understand there's already a certain level of manic one can endure in their life and I certainly do not have room for more.

Firstly: Can I please have my things back? I mean, what are you REALLY going to do with the random clothing/jewelry you've accumulated throughout this relationship? I gave your crap back, I should get my belongings in return. It's ok if you threw it all away because you were upset. It's really not ok if you're hanging onto my random things for ransom as a means of having conversation with me. You don't even wear jewelry or dresses. Hand it over, por favor.


Secondly: Calling and/or texting me 30+ times in a 20 minute time frame is not only a tad on the "overkill" side, but it will also make me turn my phone off faster than Tara Reid looking for a bathroom after a night (or day) of binge drinking. How am I supposed to respond to your freak outs if I'm getting text messages in faster than I can type them out? Seems rather silly, to me. Also, if you've prompted a cell phone shut down, calling me at work is NOT an option. Besides, my voicemail greeting at the office is way more annoying than the one on my mobile device.

Thirdly: Please understand that I can and probably will move on; as you either have or should. Lingering happens. I know, because I've mistakenly done it. But just because I would rather maintain a friendship than wish you to the eternal pits of hell does not mean I'm making an attempt to salvage our coupleness. Being upset because I was being nice doesn't seem very logical, now does it?

And Finally: I highly suggest you limit your usage of the interweb. Specifically on social networking websites. Please see here for further information regarding my humble outlook on the matter. More often than not your obsessive lurking has prompted somewhat ... creepy reactions. Which are then promptly followed by the discovery of "Thirdly" with "Secondly" trailing close behind. Not very cute, is it?


I would love nothing more than to be on good terms with those I once cared for. However, due to probably more than one of the [reoccurring] instances mentioned above, you've simply made it impossible. I wish you the very best in life. Should you ever grow up, find yourself a good therapist or simply just stop being a creepster dude, feel free to contact me in a completely sane and logical manner.

Best Regards,
Your Ex Girlfriend


Yep.

Cheating Done Wrong.

Alright.

I understand cheating happens. It's absolute bullshit, but it happens. Then when it happened to me there were a few (reads: million) "how could you?" thoughts roaming around inside my brain. But after much (reads: drunken) contemplation, I managed to reach a couple conclusions as to why it just didn't make sense.

1. Cheating Appears To Be Time Consuming.
Now, while being on tour across the country played a major advantage in this one, it applies to the every day, stay local folk, as well. I mean, goodness gracious, there's a lot that goes into this sort of thing. You have to wiggle yourself away from a night of calls and texts from your significant other. Then you have to explain where you were the night before and why you smell like a brothel? After a while the whole myphonediedwhileiwasatthebaranduntiligothomeat4am excuse just doesn't seem to play out so well. Your phone battery can't be that bad, homeslice. And once you create one lie, there's a whole mess of other ones that have to follow suit. Honestly, I don't see how anyone has time for that garbage.

2. If You're Going to Cheat, At Least Upgrade.
I mean, REALLY. Unfortunately, I had the pleasure of seeing a few of the lovely ladies (PS I'm using the term "ladies" beyond loosely) and ho-lee buckets. I'm not trying to toot my own horn here, but I at least have a nice rack. Girls and boys: if you're going to go through the trouble of breaking a heart and imploding your conscience, at least make it WORTH IT. Man OH man these girls were beyond unattractive. Don't lower your standards for the sake of a one night stand. Because that really just negates the entire purpose, now doesn't it? Who wants to brag about the halfway decent looking person they banged the night before?

That's what I thought.

My short and simple point is this: if you're bored, just save the trouble and get yourself single. THEN go for the ones you could have done, and did do, better than.

Online "Dating"

Dear Online Dating Predator,

Ah, yes. The wonderful world of internet dating. You’ve taken it upon yourself to bypass the various websites that offer this dedicated service and go straight for the Myspace community. I will admit I was unaware people used the website for such purposes until my previous roommate brought in a seemingly endless parade of online would-be love interests from The Space. Even still, I have yet to run into an individual with such a profound passion of the game.

Your initial email, laced with four letter words and an underlying sense of desperation, made me question my notions to send a reply that politely declined your invitation to meet up and see if I’m “cool” enough to kick it. I decided it was in both of our best interests if I simply did not respond at all. After all, you did say I seemed down to Earth. I was unaware you can grasp that aspect of a personality through a picture, as my profile is private. But Myspace has this wonderful feature that allows you to see if the recipient has actually viewed your romantic notions. Alas, I was caught.

The second message received from you via interweb was something I cannot comprehend thinking, let alone having the mindset to send to another human being. The outline of your online dating woes was almost endearing. I possibly would have felt some sense of regret and compassion for not taking the time to respond the first time. However, upon reading this:

“ ive written you probably 3 times now you think you are too good for people on here or what? why the fuck do you even have an account if you arent going to write one of the most attractive guys in SD back? and no im not full of myself, im a pretty good looking blue eyed male.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. Sir – REALLY? Your grammatical errors alone were enough to deter me from contacting you. You may very well be one of the most attractive men in San Diego, yet your pictures do not necessarily depict that. Your personality thus far obliterates the concept altogether. Reading about the explanation of how all girls in San Diego are the same – stuck up, conceited, trashy – leads me to believe that maybe it is your own fault that I’m one of the many girls who will not take it upon themselves to acknowledge you. There were many other facets of this message that completely baffled my brain. Most of them consisting of profanity and misspelled commonly used words.

Your final attempt is what ultimately prompted your addition to this series of blogs. Simply stating that I am shallow, conceited and a stuck up bitch for not responding really does not warrant any sort of response on my end other than a good laugh.

I do understand why you have to “email girls 3 or 4 times” to get a response. Perhaps it isn’t girls in San Diego that are the problem. I can safely assume that it is, in fact, you. I wish the best upon your internet dating endeavors and do sincerely hope you find that “down ass chick” to put up with your insane amounts of swearing and, for lack of a better word, bullshit. Happy hunting… I mean… searching! :D

Sincerely,
The Lady Who Is Apparently Just Like All The Others

Purse Grabbing

Dear Drunken Idiot Stumbling Around After Last Call,


It's 2 AM. You're drunk. You've been escorted out of the bar. I know you're probably in a sad, lonely state at this point and time seeing as how Jack and Jim were your only companions for the evening. Perhaps Jose joined the party at some point, as well.

My heart goes out. Really, it does. As I, myself, am wandering around trying to find my car, I know what it's like to be confused in the haze of the Gaslamp district after hours. Amidst the hundreds of others wandering around like intoxicated zombies, you manage to make yourself noticeable in the crowd. It was pretty hard to miss your attempt to stand in what I'm guessing was an invisible wind tunnel. My friend and I make an abrupt, seemingly coy plan to shift our stroll into the street and avoid any impending "situation". At this point, I'd rather battle bike cabs and oncoming traffic than hear any attempts at verbal communication that may spew from your mouth.

Alas, our plan was foiled when you spotted us. I will admit that my one mistake was carrying an over sized purse with me for a night out. But, to my defense we were at a dive bar and the only dancing I had planned on was the tap dancing Casey was supposed to perform upon her final drink.

With your friends Jack, Jim and Jose rejoining your party and your breath, you decide you'd like to talk to me. Fair enough. This is no way gives you the right to latch onto my purse strap and proceed to pull me from the street, only to follow this oh so debonair move with a slurred "yersacomangwizmesh". (Translation?: You're coming with me.) No, sir, I am NOT going anywhere with you. Had security not seen your suave final attempt at gaining a number you probably would have lost the ability to have children via my 5 inch stiletto heel. Luckily, the only thing you lost that night was your dignity. I genuinely hope you find it on the corner of Market and 6th sometime in the near future.

Sincerely,
The Girl Who Almost Killed Your Future Children.

Nipple Jewelry Does Not Make You Cool

Life in PB is providing me with an abundance of pupils that are in dire need of some social/dating etiquette pointers. I hope this doesn't become an every day occurrence.

Dear I'm Too Cool For My Shirt on An Overcast Day Guy,

I will admit you did catch my attention immediately. The nipple studs you so proudly display nearly blinded me as they reflected in the afternoon sun. (Not knocking anyone's preference of body jemz. Just sayin.) My attention was instantly lost upon your execution of the the "upwards nod".

I know many guys out there rely on this extremely uncool and borderline lazy approach to grasping a female gaze.
Let's break it down:

You're across the bar/street/grocery store/Planned Parenthood waiting room and you see an attractive girl you would like to introduce yourself to. You can A. Keep making eye contact and hope that she comes over (I advise against this as it is a common female tactic and will probably backfire). B. Grow a pair and walk yourself up to the little lady while (hopefully) saying something worth listening to . or C. Stand there. Look cool. Eyes fixed. Point your chin upwards with the slightest of effort to show your interest.

If you chose:

A. Get over it and gain some confidence. I'm sure you're a swell dude. And even if you're not, hearing NO isn't the worst thing in the world.

B. For the love of peanut butter and jelly let's hope you said something respectable. Note: "You're beautiful. Let me take you sailing" is not acceptable.

C. Let me be honest. You just threw out one of the lamest attempts to meet someone, aside from sending "ur hawt" messages on MySpace. And, I'm sorry, but you're probably a tool and this has not lured me over by any means.

So, Mr. Nipple Stud Fella, I apologize if I pretended not to hear or see you. You're probably the kind of guy that would tell me I'd be honored to buy you a drink.

And it's after 5 o'clock in the middle of September. Please put your shirt back on.


Kind Regards,
The Girl Who Saved You Embarrassment By Shrouding My Eye Rolling Behind My Glasses

PS. "Ah come on!" doesn't work as a lady is walking away from your failed attempt.

You're Doing It Wrong.

Dear Sir Who Deemed it Necessary to Yell At Me From Across the 7-11 Parking Lot,

While I am not quite certain if your tactic has worked in any previous attempt, this is why I was not amused and/or inclined to talk to you:

1. Safety.
As I exit the store you proceed to hang out of your parked car and shout "Excuse me!". Now, I do give you credit for approaching the situation with a more polite introduction. Fellow "gentleman" have often used "Hey girl", "Yo!" and my ever-fading favorite "DAMN!". However, you followed your opening line with the request for me to approach your car "just for a sec". Really? I'm 4'11 in an empty parking lot and you want me to walk up to you in a parked car with your window rolled down. For all I know you're sitting there with a knife, a handkerchief of chloroform or maybe your cell phone open and ready to collect digits. I pass.

2. Eagerness.
As I cautiously acknowledge the fact that you're literally screaming at me from 100 feet away, I stand my ground and ask what the problem might be. Your next line? "Do you have a boyfriend?!". Ok, I understand that you want to get this important part of the discussion out of the way because why waste everyone's time, right? Just a hint: Compliments are a better way to break the ice. Although in this situation, I don't see how your ice pick of a pickup line was about to break through my sanity.

"Are you sure?" is not an appropriate follow up to the previously mentioned question.

3. Creepster factor.
Dude. You're parked, eating some sort of 7-11 unhealthiness while trying to get the attention of someone leaving the store in an obvious hurry AND on the phone. You're wearing sunglasses that look like something Jim Carey wore circa 1999. To top off the entire oh-my-god-this-guy-is-going-to-erase-my-existance vibe, there are what appear to be Slim Jim and fast food wrappers strewn about. Maybe you were hungry today? That's cool. Don't leave garbage on your dashboard just in case you get the urge to "holler".

All in all, please take a moment, regroup with... I guess yourself... and plan a new strategy for next time. Also, some more advice: if you find yourself driving in the same direction as the girl you just attempted to court via convenience store parking lot, do not proceed to drive right next to her for a solid 12 miles on the freeway. Most people aren't a fan of feeling stalked.

I just hope a CraigsList.com missed connections post doesn't surface from this ordeal. I'm so not down with the changing my identity and getting a restraining order scene.

Sincerely,
The Girl You Officially Creeped the Hell Out Of.