Instead of living disgustingly bleak lives ourselves, we get a beautiful chance to live vicariously through other 20 somethings going through similar/worse problems that us. These are the days of Girls. (And we get to wait to find the new episodes on the internet, or a friend living with parents who have HBO! Exciting!)
It is going to take a while to get it out of our heads that this show is not fabulous-fabulous like Sex and the City was. Sure, they both share uncomfortable looking shoes, sex and relationships warbles, but unlike SATC it is not glamorized in the least. Girls is less high baller fashionista and more like “holy shit, I need to make rent/I’m unemployed/I’m thinking about doing softcore porn to pay my cell phone bill/Who’s free to take me to my abortion appointment?”
Episode 2 of Girls is just as bleak as the pilot. Jessa needs to get an abortion, but flakes because it’s either scary, she doesn’t care, or she can feel the impending miscarriage happening. White russians + boys who call their mom are apparently the new coat hanger. The boy she’s making out with is directed to her underpants when the aforementioned miscarriage luckily appears.
And to those who haven’t vaginas, let me tell you that they can indeed be panicky. The episode has a panicked feel that is unsettling, but vagina worries are no laughing matter, especially when one of those matters could turn into a child.
While Jessa is buggin’ about abortion shit, her friends all wait at the abortion parlor (I’ve always wanted to call them that. They should serve ice cream there). Marnie is annoying because she hates her nice boyfriend and likes to be on time, while Hannah is having weird, plot-ty sex with her less-than-amazing sexual partner. Who, by the way, is the embodiment of the boyfriend or fuck-buddy of at least one of your girlfriends who could totally do better.
Lastly, Shoshanna, the chatty, perky one, reveals that she’s a virgin and shocks absolutely no one.
The episode, steeped with mediocre sex and abortion kerfuffles seemed like it ended an hour too soon. Maybe it’s a symptom of watching Tiny Furniturea couple of times, but I just expect to watch Lena Dunham for more than 30 minutes. I’m seriously considering not watching this show until I can watch all of them in one, amazing, Panera Bread-coma filled day.
Having frequented many a night club over my of-drinking-age age, I’ve at least come to one conclusion: There is no need to be such a sour Sally to complete stranger-men asking you to dance.
Yes, boys and men in dance clubs can sometimes be horrifying. They are normally wearing suits that are a size too big for them (bless their hearts!), some kind of Affliction shirt and more often than not a pound of hair gel holding their murky brown hair into a never-moving state of “that guy looks creepy.”
So many times I’ve seen women be straight up rude as fuck when an unwanted guy asks her to dance. This weekend, I decided to take a nice approach to this type of guy asking me to be his partner in busting a move. A simple “Thanks but I’m here with my friend” plus a kind smile was enough to politely decline and not add (I’m bitchely yet realistically assuming) another rejection to a guy who’s trying to dance with and meet women.
When I think about these nameless and faceless men in bars and clubs, I think about my guy friends in bars or clubs who want to ask a cute girl to dance but don’t because they’re afraid of rejection. Have women and society totally just fucked with men’s minds when it comes to interacting with women in a public space, or does somebody need to get a thicker skin when it comes to dating and relationships? Probably a little of both.
However as a woman, have you ever tried approaching a guy you thought was cute? It’s kind of really horrifying. Times that by a million and that’s what our guy friends and other people’s guy friends are doing every single weekend. Puke. Scary.
OF COURSE, there are circumstances when guys don’t give up and it’s just too much. This can be Ryan Gosling hot or Ted Bundy bad bad bad. If a guy or anyone for that matter after a couple polite pleas is being a dick, then the attitude is definitely warranted to surface, because rudeness after a polite “no thanks” is simply unacceptable on their behalf.
We, men and women, are not so different. We have beating hearts and bodies and minds that want to meet other beating hearts, bodies and minds. So, the next time you’re in a club and a guy you are not into asks you to dance, simply decline the offer politely because it’s the proper thing to do. Treating others kindly in moments of vulnerability can maybe make this dating thing a little easier on all of us.
Fuck Dating is a recurring column written by an anonymous and fabulous 20 something
When it comes to dating prospects, not all places are created equal. Some cities of the world, in fact, attract hoards of completely undateable people. This can come in the form of brodawg overpopulation or, in the case of Chile’s Atacama desert, a disproportionate number of miners and prostitutes.
About a month into my work placement there, I began to notice that most of the eligible men from the area were either away at college far off in another city or merely rumored to actually exist (I once heard from a co-worker that she had spotted an attractive man walking around somewhere.)
The details of my only short-lived romance there are a bit vague in my mind because the experience was so dull that I would often forget I was even dating someone. Out of desperation, I jumped on the first pretty face I had seen in weeks.
He, apparently, did not experience the same lapses of memory, however, as evidenced by the oil painting he would later try to present to me.
We went on a few painfully long dates in which we would discuss absolutely nothing over a cup of instant coffee and then afterward he would sheepishly ask permission to kiss me EVERY SINGLE TIME.
This drug on for about two weeks (I know. Time just feels so much longer when you’re bored out of your mind) until I received a text message throwback from middle school that went something like this: “Hello beautiful princess schnookums muahmuahmuah!!” (This part of the text may have been exaggerated.) “Would you like to be my gringa girlfriend? xD” (This part is not exaggerated. That emoticon literally was there and he really did specify that I was a gringa.)
There are a lot of good reasons you should never try to have the “Where is this going?” conversation over text message. Most of us learn this around 7th grade after awkwardly passing that special someone a note asking, “Do you like me or like like me? Circle yes or no.” The “Can we be a couple now?” text message is the modern day equivalent of the “Do you like like me?” classroom note.
It’s difficult to express in the confines of a text that you’re just not looking for a commitment right now or that you’re just not looking for the same things out of life. This is why adults take the time to feel the situation out and then talk about the important topics in person.
To make things even more awkward, I had already exhausted the balance on my phone, a common problem for any phone user in Chile. So instead of carefully crafting some sort of explanation (“No thnx xD”) I just had to leave it. Days passed and by the end of the week, I had already forgotten about it.
Unfortunately, we knew each other through a mutual friend, so it was only a matter of time before we crossed paths and he was glaring at me from the other side of the room. While I was absentmindedly youtubing my nights away, he had apparently been stewing over what a heartless wench I was (and painting. More on that later.)
I may have a cold streak when it comes to dating but I do hate to hurt someone’s feelings. When we saw each other next, I made my best attempt to explain what had happened and gradually, he seemed to forgive me. I blissfully returned to Youtube and boxed wine, biding my time until I could move elsewhere. And he went back to crafting inappropriate surprises for me.
Several weeks later, we saw each other again and he made an offer even more uncomfortable than becoming a virtual text message couple: he had made an oil painting for me (of me?) that he wanted me to have. Nothing makes you feel like more of an asshole than realizing that you’ve been blowing off someone who apparently likes you enough to craft artwork in your name. Few things create as strong of an urge to flee either.
I told him thanks, I’d like to see it but that I couldn’t accept it. What else can you say in such a situation? How could you accept such a gift from someone you barely know?
He insisted several times, in between spurts of scorning me (not that I really noticed, given how incredibly quiet he was anyway.) In my standard style, I avoided seeing the painting until time ran out and my opportunity had come to move somewhere else. Around the same time, he loaded several uncomfortably nude sketches of women to Facebook. I can only imagine what he had in mind when he painted something for me.
Lesson learned: When life lands you in one of Earth’s most desolate corners, maybe now is a good time to give dating a break and fully commit your extra energy to Youtube and boxed wine.
This shit is gonna by SO FLY. Mid-20s, poor and fabulous. Ring a bell?! Lena Dunham is the chick who wrote, directed and starred in Tiny Furniture, which is basically the same premise of Girls, as it covers the same topics (20 something strife and living in New York City) and a couple of the same characters.
What I love about Lena is that she looks like a regular gal pal that you’d get drinks with, that would turn into being wasted on like, a Tuesday. But you’d have some really great conversations with even though you’re both kind of lost and confused about life. It feels a little bitchy to say she looks like a “regular gal,” but it shouldn’t. I just mean that she does not look starving nor perfectly formed from a surgeon’s table. So many tv shows and movies just feature gorgeous human beings who are so unbelievably not human in their roles. J.Lo, anyone?! It’s refreshing and infinitely more interesting to watch people, as opposed to “stars” tell us stories. Nobody relates to J.Lo. People can relate to Lena.
As a 20 something gal, I’m super excited about this show. After all, it’s always fun to watch something that is frighteningly relatable to your current life situation. Dating, unpaid internships, never having any money, growing out of friendships and making new ones, etc.
Watch Judd Apatow interview Lena here. She describes the show as that time when you’re not a girl, but not yet a woman. And yeah, she name drops Britney. LOVE IT.
Also, jealz!!! I, along with EVERY 20 something of our generation, wants to be on this show. I hope they come out with contests and shit. Or if the show goes on for a couple seasons, we’ll have to make a pilgrimage to NYC to be an extra on the show.
Hate to break it to you, but that “maybe sometime” relationship you’ve been keeping in your back pocket is totally fucked up.
Some people are so into this. They probably saw it in an episode of Friends and thought it was a “real neat” idea. ‘If you don’t find the love of your life, marry someone who’s more pathetic so you don’t feel bad about not finding anyone better.’ Harsh! Why would anyone set themselves up for this amazing disaster?
Cue Katherine Heigl filming this exact storyline. Except in her version, she actually falls in love with her fallback, and her fallback falls in love with her, despite her bad wigs. A true Hollywood love story.
Face it: It ain’t gonna happen. Why even have a fallback relationship? Would you really be that much happier with someone you didn’t care to date at your best and most mediocre of moments in life? The “maybe sometime” person is just a façade. Someone you think of when you’re afraid of being lonely, but not someone you think of when you picture a happy life and a good relationship.
At this point in our lives, and the way relationships have progressed throughout the years, we have a loooong time to figure out who we want to end up with. Unless you’re one of those 20 somethings that got married at 21, in which case, congratulations (and fuck you. Just kidding! kind of).
So there’s no rush. But I’m just sayin, don’t peg someone as your backup. Give them, and YOU a chance to find your very own Ryan Gosling or Rachel McAdams. Because they are awesome and mostly everyone, save total idiots, deserve a Ryan Gosling or a Rachel McAdams.
Growing into a 20 something life can be a bit awkward. We don’t have very much money, our high school friends are long gone and our college friends are thinning out. So how and where do entry-level adults meet each other? One place, two words: Dance class.
Yes, it may seem a little like child’s play. But fuck it. Dancing is super fun, good for your body and mind AND dance classes are a great way to meet people. If you’re single, lonely, missing that special groove thang in your life, get your ass to a dance class, stat!
Just think about all the advantages there are to taking a dance class:
As a straight dude:
You’ll be surrounded by women.
You’ll be seriously outnumbered by women. Like, 11 to 1.
These women prance around the room and would be happy to help you learn new dance moves (this is called flirting, or maybe just help if they seem annoyed that you haven’t figured out a Pas de bourrée yet).
If you have crippling dance moves, then you’ll learn something new and gain confidence.
It’s a workout!
Even if you suck, people will think you’re awesome for trying new things out. And you’ll get attention, in a good way. For real. There’s nothing better than an open person who sucks at something but still works hard to maybe someday not suck.
learn some new dance moves
Meet new friends who like to dance
Possibly meet a love interest, although this is totally unlikely unless more men, gay and straight, start going to dance classes. It’s all women people, come on! Diversify the genders!
You get to pretend you’re at a practice session to be a Britney Spears backup dancer. Or, Britney Spears.
More people knowing how to dance means more dance battles at night clubs on the weekends. HELL YES.
Need I continue? Even if you think you suck at dancing, just think of it this way: It’s a bunch of Liz Lemons, getting together every Tuesday to dance, just like the Timeless Torches!
Ok, so even though meeting a love interest is slim to none, dance class is still a great place to meet new people. Who knows, maybe your dance partner will have a hot brother, roommate, or non-crazy ex-boyfriend. And if not, you’ll meet some new people to be goofy with in dance class and get drinks afterwards. Win win!
Being in my 20s, I can’t remember the last time I seriously used body splash. Sure I have one stowed in my car for when I forget perfume or get OCD about smelling like flowers. But actually consciously spraying myself with body splash… 7th grade at the latest. (Country Apple, because Bath and Body Works was the shit in middle school)
I’ve recently been caught in a billowing cloud of body splash from a woman who is in her 20s, and it was appalling. How do you say “Honey, what the fuck is wrong with you and your body splash addiction. It’s almost worse than meth” to a complete stranger?
I remember way back in 6th grade during my very own body splash affection phase. Every morning before the bus, I’d spray a little Country Apple throughout my room and dance around in the succulent, $12.50-a-bottle rain that made me smell like a hip orchard. Then one day, my neighbor friend was like “Girl, what the fuck is wrong with you. You put too much of that shit on” but you know, in suburban white girl 6th grade speak that I can’t emulate because now I’m just a jaded, part-time yuppie who is an over-exposed-to-pop-culture suburban white girl. Two totally different dialects.
See, the thing is, when we’re exposed to smells for a really long time, say for instance our own body odor or, ahem, body splash (what’s the difference?!), we tend to get used to it. Our noses crave more, they need more. “Just one more spray, come on. You know you want it too,” says your nose. But your nose is a bitch who’s addicted. Cut her off. Don’t give her what she wants. Tell her to fuck off, because people have been talkin smack and you gotsta regulate.
But seriously. Men, women, people who still wear Curve (seriously, stop it): Let’s leave it to one, maybe two sprays. Contrary to popular advertisements, dousing yourself in cheap (or expensive) fragrance does not get you the ladies or the mens. It makes them sneeze and run far away from you. Instead of comforting yourself in a few guilty squirts of liquid love, take a fucking shower, give yourself a hug and lay off the sauce-for ALL of us.
Dating has always been complicated. Carrie Bradshaw and company have certainly shown us what it’s like to be a successful 30 something amiss in the dating world woes of the 90s. But well over a decade (yikes!) later, dating seems even more complicated with the ever present joy of text messaging.
I’ve asked a couple of friends this same question and every single person is just as stumped as I am. What IS the protocol in dating when it comes to giving someone your number and when (and what) you text them?
I’ve heard anywhere from 2.5 days (jokingly) to Park and Rec‘s Tom Haverford suggesting that men get phone numbers, wait 8 weeks and then text “What’s crackin” or something equally as uncool.
It’s all just a big gray area. On one hand, you give your phone number to someone and you hope they do something with it. In this day and age, it probably won’t be a phone call because phone calls are seemingly right up there with meeting the parents and getting a joint Netflix account. So everything pretty much lies in the art of the text message.
It sounds lame, but is there really a subconscious time limit when it comes to texting? 8 weeks is a little extreme, but is there some truth in waiting a couple days to make plans so you don’t seem too available? Because believe it or not, no matter your good intentions, being too available or too busy hurts your chances an equal amount. So are we screwed, or is it written in the fates when you’ll meet someone and your weirdo texting customs may just be someone’s big ol’ cup of weirdo love tea?
Breaking: Sometimes dating is awkward
Yes, dating is awkward. But how will you ever know what you like if you don’t try on a bunch of turds for size? You may just find the perfect sized turd for the toilet bowl of your life. How perfect would that be?
Also, when did we get too busy/too lame to go on a date? It’s fun, right? You get some drinks, talk about stuff and then decide if you like each other or not.
I can’t tell if it’s just our lazy as fuck generation being totally insecure d-bags when it comes to going on a simple date, or if we all just don’t know what the fuck we’re doing when it comes to the approach. Probably both.
All I know is, we need to get over our hang ups and hang out or we’re all going to end up alone forever. Or with a shit ton of animals that make us smell like a barn. Cuz you know the mens/ladies luuuuuv that shit!
It’s SPRING! And that means it’s time for a face mask to get all your pale, dry skin into shape. Who the fuck can afford a facial?! Seriously, we make like, gas money and a sandwich an hour. The absolute best and cheapest way to do an at home facial for little to no cost is by using raw eggs.
Now, maybe you’re a raw shit phobe like my dear, sweet mom. Get over it. It’s not going to kill you, and it will make your skin look and feel better. Moving on.
Raw Egg Facial
The raw egg facial is actually two facials. You use the egg white as a sort of astringent for your face, and the egg yolk acts as a moisturizer. Nature is like, so genius.
1 egg (you can even make it an organic egg. Organic raw egg facial. Mind blown.)
washcloth (one for each friend unless you really wanna share, or all of them have been dirty since September)
wine or cocktails
First, get real. Pour your drinks.
You and your gurlfriends/metroguys can use one egg between all of you. I don’t know exactly how many people can use the same egg, but who the fuck ever just has one egg between like 20 people?! We’re poor, but not that poor.
Ok, so crack the egg. Separate the egg white and the egg yolk and place them into two separate bowls. Then, using the fork, break the yolk and stir it until it’s all creamy and mixy. Now you’re ready.
The first facial you’ll want to use the egg white. Spread it around your face with your fingers. Avoid your eyes unless you like putting weird shit in your eyes. Let the mask dry, and then use your washcloth to wash it off with warm water.
Now you’re ready for the second part! Take the egg yolk and spread it on your face all real good like. Let it dry. Then wash it off. You’re finished! Super easy, super, super cheap with a glow of beauty at the end.