The Guy With The Shed

For those of you who are new followers, this is Jane, and I was a serial dater all summer. In part, for a project, but also because it was entertaining trying on different personalities for a bunch of men I will never see again.

On a night that Joan and I went dancing, we met a couple of guys that clung to us like you would not believe. They were nice, so it wasn’t that bad at first, but we eventually had to shake them. I was a little too drunk to lie when one asked for my number, so I apparently gave it to him. Over the next couple of weeks, he kept trying to get me to go on a date with him.

I should add that through some questionable connections, I have a lot of investigative “resources” that I utilize often when men try to date me or date my girlfriends. So, Joan(roommate) and I decided to get some info on this guy to see if he was as decent as he lead on.

It’s not hard to get a read off of someone just after you’ve seen their social media. He read like a douchey player. I politely declined his first few attempts to go on a date. After he wasn’t accepting my efforts to brush him off,  Joan and I decided to mess with him. We googled his home address (google maps is a really creepy thing) and saw his home and what looked like a creepy, rusting shed.  So, then this happened:

 (I renamed him ‘Snorin’, because he was boring and it rhymed with his name)

After that exchange, Snorin was freaked out. He kept asking me how I found his address, and said “I won’t take you on a date unless you tell me how you found my address. Seriously.” I replied “I completely understand. Take care. Xx”, and I never heard from Snorin again.

The photo above was from when the conversation took place. I no longer have his number in my phone, and we have no friends in common but for some reason Facebook thinks basicandbipolar’s account knows him. Well, you caught me Facebook. I creeped the fuck out of that fuckyboy once. Poor Snorin’.

Well, guys…it’s no wonder why I’m single. But to be honest, I have yet to meet my match. When I do, I probably won’t be a complete jackass. *fingers crossed*

To be continued,

B&B

Fuckboy Spotting 

In my opinion, a “fuckboy” is any homie who thinks he can use as many women as he’d like for whatever he wants!

Young/old, tall/short, big dick/small dick…they’re all the same: not interested in relationships, and just present for a free show.

If you’re also sick of fuckboys, Adam Ray has got your back on how to spot the little shits:

To The One Who Was Not ‘The One’

As I’ve been very forthcoming in much of my writing, most of you know I’m sort of the queen of breakups. Not quite the queen of relationships, but definitely the queen of breakups. Now why would a bright twenty-something be both a commitment-phobe AND a relationship-type? Because why not.

But to be honest, I’m just so sick of trying and feeling like I failed again. I came across this post on Thought Catalog, and it resonated so well with me. I’ve been this woman; I’ve had her same thoughts; I’ve felt her same unhappiness when someone I loved was constantly choosing being “busy” over me, and I’ve been devastated when I realized I was the only one in the relationship that was fighting to make it work.

This is a definite must-read:

To The One Who Was Not ‘The One’, by Raina Naim

They say that if a man is not ready for commitment, even if you bring him all the ladies in the world and hand it to him on a silver platter, he still will not commit. They also say that if a man really values you and doesn’t want to lose you, he will do everything he can to keep you, because that is the real challenge, the challenge is not getting someone, the challenge is keeping them.

I was trying to find a happy medium between two paradoxical facts, so I was giving you your time but at the same time I wanted ‘more’ from you. We had good times, we laughed, we had intimate conversations, and we had a very strong connection, but you also had that with many other women, and I had that with many other men. Sometimes I felt we acted more like friends than lovers but isn’t that a good thing? Either way I wanted to “make this work”. I was tired of failed relationships, I was tired of meaningless flings, I was tired of being lonely, I was just tired and you gave me something to fight for.

I fought for you and for the relationship to work, but later on I realized that if I continue fighting, I will be fighting myself, because in the soundless moments that I refrained from everyone and thought about this relationship, that little voice inside my head told me that it’s not what you want, it’s not how it should be, you are not happy, and when I paused and reflected, I was the only one fighting, while you were trying.

I think the older you get, you look for those who can comfort you and be there for you as opposed to someone you can have fun with or just kill time with. You want security, knowing that when everyone walks out of your life, that person will walk in, and I never felt that, I felt that you were in the front line of people who are constantly disappointing me. So I left, and I may have looked back a couple of times, but it was nothing more than pure nostalgia.

I guess this is what’s funny about relationships, you think you want something out of a specific relationship only to realize that you want something totally different.

I don’t know if it’s because you get to know yourself better, or because in the darkest of moments, when you are alone in bed thinking about the meaning of life, you come to understand that all you ever want is to be loved a little more, and understood a little better, and sometimes you can’t just keep these two truths under wraps and when you unravel them, you want to make sure that your partner will embrace them instead of running away.

You were always “busy” doing other stuff; sometimes absolutely nothing, but you always chose “busy” over me, and eventually I chose me over “busy” and started giving more time to those who made time for me. Why do we always remember those who were always there for us when we find no one else?  Why can’t we just value their presence without having to feel their absence?

When I saw how amazing you were to your friends, I realized that you are capable of being a giving & generous man-just not with me. How do you explain that? I don’t know. Maybe this where the whole ‘not meant to be’ thing comes into play. We just didn’t bring out the best in each other. Why? Because we weren’t meant to be.  

So I guess I thank you for paving the way for me to know who I should be with, the kind of man I should look for, and what I want out of a relationship. Thank you for teaching me that no matter how hard I try to change myself to please someone, they can still reject it.

Thank you for making me embrace my core and stop changing myself for a relationship that does not go the distance. Thank you for reminding me that people can say we are so ‘perfect’ together, and then say ‘we saw it coming’ when it’s over. I learned not to listen to them anymore.

Thank you for making me realize how dangerous infatuation can be, we soon find ourselves doing things we never thought we would, so blinded by the VERY obvious facts, and clinging to strings of false hope. Sometimes you ask yourself what was I thinking? The answer is you weren’t.

It wasn’t easy getting over you, attachment is a double-edged sword, but I learned that in relationships it’s better to break your own heart and save yourself from falling apart. Thank you for making me aware of the lines we shouldn’t cross in relationships, and how blurry these lines can be when you’re in love. Thank you for bringing me one step closer to ‘the one.’

“Wait for something more organic…”

First of all, who the fuck actually does that!?

And second: am I the only one who finds it incredibly condescending when someone says “you’ll meet him/her when the timing is right. It just has to happen organically.”???  -I like the idea of not having to put forth effort, but nothing actually happens organically. I’d love to say I’m not pushy, but I am. I’m always making moves to get things accomplished. Nothing great in my life has ever happened organically. I had to put in a sufficient amount of effort to make ANYTHING work.

I’m 25, and have been dating for a decade. Yes, there are women out there who have been dating in their adulthood a lot longer than I, but I’m exhausted.

My type has gone from so narrow and picky that it was comedic, to “must be a decent human being, with whom I can have great conversations and moments with.” -I obviously want to be attracted to them, but I tend to find intellect and a mutual connection more attractive with my aging. He doesn’t have to be freakishly tall, foreign, funny, bilingual,  5+ years older, dark, and handsome. <I told you it was comedic>

He can be a normal human being, because I am a normal human being. I mean, I think I’m a catch, but I’m not Giselle Bündchen.

So, how the F**K do I go about “bumping into” this normal and sophisticated gent in an organic fashion? ….Do I hover over Tolstoy at the old bookstore, with hopes that I’ll have a meetcute with some cutie who ALSO is obsessed with early 19th century literature? -Come on, guys… that’s not actually a thing.  Meeting people organically is total bullshit. So, until then… the cutie in the produce section will have to do.

To Be Continued,

IncrediblySingle&SlightlyAnnoyed

B&B

 

Emilie I 

Kevin now has his own corner on Basic&Bipolar. Enjoy his beautiful words below, and under the menu option “It’s All Copacetic“.

I can hardly remember the way you tossed your hair; something I’ve studied on numerous occasions. I catch glimpses now and again as trees reach out and swing their branches in the wind. And the wind still carries your scent, following me everywhere I go, urging me to look back and see you standing there. But I still have trouble remembering the way you tossed your hair.

I can hardly relive the flashbacks of your lips pressing tightly together and melting away from mine only to tease; like a newly blossomed rosebud opening for the bees and then withering away the second it slips in. Then hunger ensues; hunger for your lips. But I still have trouble reliving those flashbacks.

I can hardly feel your hands. I imagine they would be lost in mine, our fingers intertwined like the mossy overhang on our front porch door. Our front door, it creaked slightly when you crept in, opening it slowly to soften the sound.

Oh, I can hardly recall the sound! The sound of your voice as it trembles beneath a whisper, forcing out those words. And I’m still holding onto those words. You said that if I left there’s no way you’d survive.

Then you left…so, are you still alive? I can hardly recall.

Tinder Tale II

tinder 2Tinder Tales II

As discussed in part I of my Tinder Tale installments, I collected tinder date stories throughout the summer. During which, Joan and I had been particularly obsessed with going on a double Tinder date, because after a few dates on Tinder… it was apparent to us that the men in our area didn’t really take to tinder for anything serious, so we decided we’d get some good laughs, food, and drinks out of it. I mean, why not… we’re two hot twenty-somethings; we might as well make the best out of this hook-up app.

“The Worst Double-Date We’ve Ever Been On”

We had had several unsuccessful attempts to have a double tinder date. It was something that was constantly in the backs of our minds while setting up dates with contenders. After probably two months of unsuccessful attempts, we matched with “guy whose name I forgot” and Ari.

GWNIF (guy whose name I forgot) was there for me, and of course the gorgeous and well-built Ari was there for Joan. GWNIF was chosen as a desperate attempt at a double-date. Joan and I really wanted to go out for wine and cheese, so I booked a date with the first contender that was available that night.

Ari arrived to our favorite wine bar before we did, and was already eagerly getting us a table. When we walked in, he was gorgeous and smiley as he hugged both of us. Though he was there for just Joan, he was ridiculously social and sweet to me as well. *Fellas, when you date a woman, you ARE also dating her best friend. Play nice, because best friends can make or break your intentions to date. – I was totally team Ari– I even whispered to Joan that I didn’t care if GWNIF didn’t show up, because I was already having a nice time. Wishful thinking got me nowhere, because that awkward turtle showed up 5 minutes later.

He was nice and polite (at first), but a really snobby sommelier. He was the most annoying of the annoying wine snobs; he sat there sniffing the wines, and testing our waitress on the different dry reds she could provide our table. –I’m all about knowing your wines, but as soon as the customer starts testing the staff, I’m probably going to accidentally spill my wine on his/her lap for being an asshat at my favorite wine bar.

He asked me about my job a lot, as he found what I did incredibly interesting, and he kept saying “I really should go back to school. I can’t do a lot without a degree.” –he said this at least three times, so I finally said “What would you go for then?” And here’s the kicker: he said “I want to run my own wine bar. I’d like to learn more about running a business, and pick-up some managerial skills.” To which I said “not testing the staff like they’re at gunpoint while you’re on a date is probably a really great place to start as far as interpersonal skills go.” -Yes, I did say this… I’m rude, guys.

Ari was being delightful and involving me in his conversations with Joan, because it was obvious to everyone at our table (other than GWNIF) that I was not interested in snobby snobberson. So, my energy was spent attempting to make small-talk with GWNIF, while also socializing with Joan and her pretty manfriend. *I’d also like to add that men also tend to use their best photos for this app (women aren’t the only ones who do this). GWNIF was one of those guys.

GWNIF and I didn’t talk about anything interesting in the slightest. I don’t like talking about work in late night social environments, because of the nature of my job, I feel it’s not respectful to discuss it over drinks. So, that topic wasn’t going to work. I kept trying to talk about hobbies (I’m basically a collector of small-time hobbies), and he had none. Who the F**k hasn’t a single hobby!? I mean, nothing. He didn’t collect anything, he didn’t have any special skills (outside of wine quizzing), and he had NO major life interests, and owned zero pets. I had absolutely nothing to talk to this guy about. Staying awake around him was a total chore. He just kept talking about wanting to become more cultured. -And hopefully find a hobby or two.

After our third or fourth bottle of wine at the table, we all decided to call it a night. Completely out-of-tune with me, Joan invited the entire table back to our place for some more drinks and a movie. The situation got away from me, and the next thing I noticed was Joan giving GWNIF directions to our home and telling him “you know what, why don’t you just follow us back!” -Great. Thanks, Joan. Now I have to hang out with this snoozefest even longer. As we walked back to our car, I whispered “what on earth were you thinking? That guy was the fucking worst. Seriously.” Giggling, she responded “yeah, I know. I thought it’d be funny to see how you’d get out of it.” -Gee thanks, yah fuck!

I eagerly took control of this situation, and texted him that I was tired and heading to bed. He understood, and said that he could tell that I seemed “sleepy”. -uhh yeah, because you were boring me to tears, homie.

After a failed attempt at sexy texting me a few days later, I never heard from GWNIF again. I was actually shocked by his attempt at sexy texting. Not only was he boring, but apparently is also horrible at picking up social cues. No thank you, sir. He was rude and a complete snoozefest. He was unmatched and deleted right away.

Needless to say, Joan and I have vowed to never double-date again unless we’re in solid relationships. I know I definitely  have no desire to go on a double-date, ever again.

Have any of you had any good experiences with double-dating? …Maybe I’m just doing it wrong (I probably am).

To Be Continued,

B&B

Tinder Tale I

tinderTinder Tales I

At this point, I know very few people who haven’t tried tinder. They’ve either tried it just for laughs, or to actually meet people. I know a very small portion who have actually pursued relationships with tinder matches, and I’m happy to say they’re all doing really well.

I won’t lie, I felt a little weird trying it. I knew it was basically a hook-up app, and I had no idea if that was what I was even looking for. I just knew I wanted to meet new people and have fun. It was the summer before I was turning 25, and I decided it was time for me to have a scandalous summer. I’m too big of a control freak to ever commit to anything scandalous, so it was time for me to let go a little, and try something new. However, as a writer and scientist, I obsessively journal any and every new life venture so I can (much) later look at my experience (semi) objectively. Lucky for all of you beautiful creatures, you get to relive my experience with me.

So, here’s my first Tinder Tale:

“When Joan&Jane Were Sailors”

Before I start the story, I should add that Joan is my roommate’s nickname/drunk alterego. No one pronounces her name correctly and  we decided on Joan, because it sounds sort of “badass office lady”. Also, Joan and I work together in addition to our being roommates. For most, it would be too much time with one person, but we’re basically two different sides of the same coin; we make a great team at work and outside of work… it works for us, and has for years.

So, one night after a really shitty day at work, we decided to get the pool floaties out and drink a bottle of rum in our pool. After getting a little sauced, we decided to go out for some cocktails -because we ran out of rum.

I met up with the Dodger that I slept with once (who I met through tinder, but that’s a story for another day), and Joan met up with a previous Tinder Tackle turned long-term friend who had flown in for the night.

I got annoyed with the Dodger, because he was nothing short of one of the flakiest guys I had ever hung out with and was being wishy washy about where he wanted to go (as far as which bar) -total shocker..an athlete with a short attention-span. So, I decided to pretend to ignore him. Drunk or sober, I’m not great at ignoring or even pretending to ignore people. So, my attempt at pretending was, I’m sure, laughable at best. I just rolled my eyes at him and didn’t follow him to his stupid VIP section. I think all I said was “Nah. I might go home. See yah.”, and then I took my pouty attitude to the other side of the bar. Joan, her friend, and I decided to stay at this same bar because after my attempt at passive aggressiveness, I was stuck in this rapid cycle of “take a shot, dance for 10 minutes, take a lap to make sure he’s having a miserable time (I’m a little batty…drunk or sober *I embrace it), and repeat! We did that for about an hour, and my friends were ready to strangle me.

Eventually, Joan and her friend got bored of the workout my crazy was giving them, and we decided to head to a few other bars. I eventually got them to go back to the original bar, claiming that the music was better. Joan’s friend got refused at the door because they thought he was too drunk…. I have no idea why I didn’t set off any alarms, but I still got in so I didn’t care -I didn’t see Joan after that until we left for work the next morning.

So, I’m at the first bar and I went straight to my dodger(because I obviously knew his exact location) and told him to take me home because my sandal broke and I was tired. He complied, and gave me a piggy back ride to our uber, while holding my sandal because I was too busy being devastated over my broken shoe to hold it myself. On our way home to his flat, I flirted with the cutest Dominican uber driver… in front of my dodger (who just laughed the whole time, while still holding my shoe). When we got back to his place, at 5’2” tall (1.5 meters), I attempted to give this 6’2” (1.9 meters) solid muscly athlete a piggy back ride into the house. We fall at least three times, but I got him through that threshold!! After that, I had decided that I’m basically the hulk.

What happened between the attempts to carry him into the house and my having to pee shortly after is still a little blurry, and was probably full of “I could probably arm wrestle you and win!”(I’m embarrassing, guys). But regardless of what ridiculous shit happened between those two moments, I had to pee. I eventually got to his bathroom  and this was one of those bathrooms that conjoins two bedrooms. So, I was wearing a romper (with no-bra), and I was paranoid that taking my romper off to pee would intuitively lure someone into walking into the bathroom to see me…basically naked, just to pee. Well, I ended up locking both doors.

I somehow managed to keep the door to the baseball player’s bedroom locked even after having opened it to exit the bathroom…Leaving both doors to this bathroom locked, preventing anyone from being able to use the rest room for the entirety of the evening. So, at 4:30 am there was my sexy (mostly) naked athlete taking the bathroom door off it’s hinges. While doing this, he was mumbling that it was probably “that stupid tart my friend brought home”, so I agreed and even threw in a “she sounds like a mess!”. I did nothing to help this situation. I took a few photos of him struggling, snapped them to Joan, giggled a bit, then passed the fuck out -because I’m obviously that sort of “fun time” that you take home, locks you out of your bathroom, giggles while you’re struggling, then passes out… and I was probably drooling all over the place. I’m a gem, guys..I really am. Tinder should probably use this story as a testimonial on their site.

The next morning when I woke up for work, my Dodger and I were both still drunk. Still wearing the REALLY short romper I was in the night before, I stole a t-shirt from the Dodger, threw it over my clothes to give myself a little more length in the material department and made my way home. How I managed to get a ride home is still beyond me. Luckily, I made it home with enough time to brush my teeth, and throw my hair up.

After getting home, I found what the night had left of Joan… She was not only still drunk, but had lost her underwear at some point. Apparently she and her friend both woke up with random cuts and bruises and were 80% sure that they beat the shit out of each other during what we assume was really intense foreplay or a back alley fight club. Joan threw up in the bathroom at work twice, and I walked around looking like someone ran me over…twice.

Joan and I had a pretty successful night. We decided being sailors was probably for us, and that we should probably find a boat and take our show to the sea.

*I had talked to the Dodger  for somewhere around a week. He was also not actually a dodger. Just an athlete (team unknown). He was gorgeous, and lovely but we didn’t have a lot in common outside of us both liking his statuesque body. Joan is still really good friend’s with her Tinder Tackle turned bestie.

Do I have any ex or current Tinder users out there in my following!? Or any other site for that matter? I know Tinder doesn’t have the best reputation, and to be honest, I never took tinder seriously. I basically used it to try out different personalities for fun. My next Tinder Tale will be about how one of my best friends and I posed as a lesbian couple looking for a “third”, just for a good laugh (I’m an asshole)…and for the free drinks. 😉

To Be Continued,

B&B

 

Drunk Text That Ex

imageUnless you’re me, and your drunk alter ego is a shady c**t who erases all evidence that you drunk texted AND called your ex the night before.

This is why it’s important to deal with our shit during the day, guys… If we push our feelings down, they’ll bubble up and demand to be acknowledged when we’re in NO capacity to deal with them.

I’m Basic&Bipolar, and I am a chronic drunk texter.

So, apparently after four+ vodkas, I decided to tell my ex he still hasn’t given my movies back after several requests, and “damnit I want them back. They’re mine, you fuck!” -which is wildly embarrassing, and we all know how well anyone would comply to a request like that.

Are any of you equally as embarrassing when drunk and irritated!? -Because I’m embarrassing, and I love a good ‘hot mess’ story! I want to hear ‘m -I know I’m not the only crazy ass out there!

To Be Continued,

B&B

Stagnation

 Relationships without passion: they happen to us all

Lately, I’ve been thinking about romantic relationship dynamics  and the people in my life who I think are either just tolerating their relationships or are wildly unhappy. And from what I’ve noticed in the love lives of my friends and family members, it seems to be a theme that a person ought to settle until something better comes along… Or they stay in these stagnant (and non-passionate) relationships because there’s so much history there.

This realization obviously saddens me (and should sadden us all), because these loved ones are not only settling, but nurturing an unwanted flower with tainted water. Relationships are fucking hard any time two people are involved (I say two people, because my cat and I get along beautifully).

Why bother putting work into a relationship with someone who you don’t really feel excited to be with?

These musings came to me while I was with my friend, discussing a relationship that ended a lifetime ago. It was a saga that went on for years, and it took me a really long time to realize that this individual didn’t give the slightest shit about what was important to me in life. All of the causes that are near and dear to my heart, he never asked about or took interest in my thoughts on them. This was someone who allegedly loved me, but never really knew or liked anything about me as a societal being. The stuff I care about and invest my time into is a HUGE part of who I am. Looking back, I can’t really figure out why he hung around so long if he had no interest in the entirety of who I am.

So, I then decided to look at the relationships of my loved ones….and that’s how I arrived at the mindset that a lot of them are just waiting around until they find something better. Someone whose interests better align with theirs.

After it took so long for me to realize that my past relationship was just a place-holder for a better mate, I never want to be in that type of relationship again. I want to be excited to be with someone; I want to feel honored to be in their life, and vice versa-and I want all of these things for my loved ones (this extends to each of my beautiful readers).

Maybe I’m wrong, and there’s nothing wrong with settling. These are just the musings of one woman.

To Be Continued,

B&B

NoChillChicksHere

image

I am the furthest thing from being a “cool chick”.

This is my dating reality: 

I have no idea how to navigate the dating world. I know what type of relationship I want, but I have no idea how to weed through contenders. You’d think I’d have better asshole radar after a decade of dating, but I don’t. And I want to stab myself in the eye every time I hear the phrase “I’m just looking for a chill chick to, you know, hang with.”

Let’s discuss the phenomenon that is “the cool chick”

This concept is one that is pushed on women a lot. I absolutely hate the concept of her. She’s not real: she’s a sexist concept that was probably created by beer commercials.  From what I gather, a “cool” or “chill” chick is the following: unbothered by flakey-ness, DTF always, never gets too emotional, never gets jealous, loves “dude” activities (whatever that means), doesn’t need relationship labels, she’s adventurous, fearless, and is basically a guy with tits.

I have a few ladies in my coven that would fit the majority of those characteristics…but never too emotional? Always unbothered by flakey-ness? …that’s where I, and most women get lost: flakey-ness should never be tolerated, and being emotional is not a negative behavior. We should celebrate uniqueness from one another, and our emotions are one of those unique things we should not be ashamed to celebrate.

If someone stands me up or flakes on me multiple times, I will probably rid my life of that person (romantic or not). I don’t always like “dude” activities -I hate video games (if that’s a dude activity), and I only have sports knowledge when it’s relevant to me. I like labels (and label makers!), as I find that they assist in providing comfort in budding relationships. I am pretty adventurous, but I’m not even mildly fearless…. as I am afraid of almost everything. I am extremely emotional, and I have no shame in letting it be known that I basically have multiple personalities.

Yeah, I’m definitely not an ideal “cool chick”, and dating in my mid-twenties has been a total grab bag of mixed results. Unrealistic expectations make dating even harder. Women are not two-dimensional creatures. You can’t get the woman that loves sports, AND likes to keep things casual for THREE years. That’s not a thing, guys. We have complex personalities. We aren’t…men. I will probably always be adventurous, but also extremely neurotic and love labels (of all kinds).

Basically, dating in my twenties is the worst. And down with this “chill chick” concept!

To Be Continued,

B&B