How Not to Be an Asshole

Inspired by a dear friend who has recently returned to the world of blogging, the following is an attempt at writing an “advice post.”  I’m assuming you all have the basics of living life down right?  You can clothe yourself, find a job, speak at least one language that involves nouns and verbs yes?  Okay, glad those are covered.  I’m going to move on to something that all of you probably think you have mastered, but in reality 99.9% of people need to read the following article.  It’s like those infographics on children in the proper carseat – you think you’ve got it right, but you are WRONG.  

HOW NOT TO BE AN ASSHOLE

1. If you are in a motorized vehicle, do not pull into the crosswalk when a human is walking through it.  Do not inch into my personal space with your GIANT FUCKING PIECE OF METAL.  Don’t act like you’re going to just nudge me out of the way or peer pressure me into moving quicker.  You’re in a car.  Chill out.

2. If you are a man, and you are taking a woman out on a date, don’t flat out tell her you want to switch locations because of a deal, special, or coupon.  I’ve spent years overcoming the insecurities of my adolescence, and your telling me that I’m not worth a $7.99 taco platter is not helping with that journey.

3. When walking in a public place, here is a hot tip: pretend you are racing a snail.  If the snail is winning, you are going too slow.  

4. Oh, and if you’re walking in congruence with friends/relatives/hordes, do your best to not take up the entire sidewalk.  This is more for your safety, because I will Red Rover my way through your little party.

5. Go to your social media feeds right now.  Compute the ratio of “obnoxious bragging” posts to “funny/amusing/useful” posts.  The ratio should be less than 3:1.  Think about it like this: if your current significant other’s ex-significant other was posting these things, would you roll your eyes and call him or her a profane word?  Maybe just a teeny tiny bit?  Then employ some self censorship, STAT.

6. While we’re on the topic of social media, the same ratio applies to political posts.  I know you REALLY REALLY REALLY care and that everyone else is SO STUPID AND WRONG but guess what?  If your opinion here really mattered, you’d be saying it on TV, not my newsfeed.  Share your opinions, share information, god yes!  Do it!  But don’t oversaturate.

7. If you have an opinion about the show “Girls”, just shut up.  Immediately.

8. When taking public transit, do your best to observe social norms for the local area.  If you are unsure what these are, look it up online.  I think every city in America has a blog or tumblr dedicated to assholes on public transit.  If you’re in DC, it’s pretty easy: don’t eat, don’t drink, don’t block the door, and give up your seat to anyone wearing heels higher than yours.  Oh, and gentlemen, your genitalia does not require it’s own seat.  Put your knees together and act like a lady.

9. If someone asks for your opinion on an article of clothing, which the person has already purchased and owns, there are only three appropriate answers: 1) You look SO SEXY! 2) You look SO SEXY!  But maybe with this (insert adjustment/accessory here) you’ll look EVEN SEXIER! 3) You look SO SEXY!  Cancel all your plans and let’s go shopping (then burn the other person’s offensive clothes when they aren’t looking.

10. When in doubt about whether or not your behavior could be considered to be similar to that of an asshole, you’re probably being an asshole.  Stop it!

In my defense, he did have a great butt…

The gender gap is REAL, you guys.  There is a big difference between men and women, and this is how I know.

Yesterday, I had the pleasure of meeting an attractive and moderately charming young man whilst roaming a crowded bookstore.  Because of a super awkward start to the conversation (I can’t even tell the story, but it involved mistaken identity and slyly removed headphones and eavesdropping), I began the conversation with “I’m sorry that was awkward, but in my defense your butt does look great in those jeans.”  The gentleman and I proceeded to chat and bat our eyelashes at each other for about ten minutes before I excused myself in a ladylike way implying that I needed to go home to bake muffins, sew a hem, hang curtains, and practice my grand piano while thinking chaste thoughts.  That was me playing hard to get – anyway, the poor dude had no clue and let me walk away.  Life fail sir, life fail.

By contrast, just mere hours later I found myself seated on a rubber mat in a sweaty pilates studio, and struck up a conversation with a lady whose mat sat nearby.  I’m pretty sure I started off by telling her that yoga makes me fart so who knows about pilates, fair warning.  Yeah, this is what I say to strangers.  But I got her number and now I have a new yoga friend!

Point of Order

It has come to my attention that there are a few misconceptions about my existence roaming around there in the universe.  I’d like to take this lovely Monday to address these concerns and clarify my position.

1. “I know that you’re looking for something serious…”  I don’t know what the heck kind of typo occurred in what mass email, or who smeared what words on what bathroom wall, but where you are boys getting this?  I have yet to celebrate a one year anniversary with a romantic partner (or anyone other than my cat and my middle school BFF <3<3 guys).  Also, hey, I’m 26 and I don’t know what I want beyond my dinner order, so if you do have some insight here, please do share.

2. How to escape – I have now counted three (THREE!!!) gentlemen who have fled the country rather than continue pursuing the pleasures of my company.  I know that I don’t take rejection super well, but really, I can handle it.  A quick email or text or post-it would save you boys a lot of frequent flier miles.  I really won’t send out a hitman, I promise.

3. This is just a general note to the gentlemen of the universe, but please stop being so blunt about how lazy you are.  Does this really get you laid?  Telling me that you volunteered for a demotion at work, only like “low-key” relationships, or are looking for a “friend with benefits” does not exactly make one’s panties hit the proverbial floor.  Let’s try to step it up here.  I’ve rolled my eyes so much recently that I’m afraid I’ve sprained something.  Help a girl out.

THIS IS NOT HOW YOU MAKE FRIENDS.

I literally will become friends with ANYONE.  I have very low standards.  

But if you are a homeless man.  If you are old.  If you smell like butt.  If you are laughing so hard that you are spitting saliva for several feet.  If you are attempting to crawl into my lap on the bus.  If you are impervious to my pointedly angled elbows digging into your side.  If you laugh so hard you spit directly into my face.

No, sir, I’m sorry.  We will not be friends.  At least not today.

So here’s the life lesson: if you’re going to talk to strangers on public transit, speak don’t spit, and SHOWER.

How to Meet Humans

In a random experiment, the following list is comprised of people I have spent social time with (in person or via chat/text/technology) during the past couple of weeks and how I know them.  Use for inspiration or for comedic relief.

E: I was forwarded a mass email she had sent out for work and recognized her name as the sister of a girl I went to college with. I scheduled a work meeting and informed her we should be best friends.

J: Ex girlfriend of my ex boyfriend’s roommate.  I forced her to go buy fruit with me after a weekend of being cloistered in a male group house subsisting on football and cheese products.

K: Former student, followed my witty life advice to a life of fun and fabulousness in DC.

J: Middle school friend – we dissected a rat together once.  His name was Bojangles.

C: He applied for a job in my office years ago.  Didn’t get the job.  Then physically ran into each other in a mutual friend’s entryway a year and several states later.

L: Roommate of college friends, now an awesome adult friend.

S: Roommate – match made on Craigslist.  

M: She came to meet someone else in my office, we exchanged business cards, and then…became best friends.  I think there was wine involved at some point.

R: Graduate school – we were two of the four white females in the program and the only two without fun accents.  We bonded over melted cheese.

K: Met during a meeting with a former ambassador.  Networked.  Abandoned networking to become friends but also swap professional favors (ie interns) still.

S: Former student, shares an obsession with caffeine.

Q: Elementary school friend, we bonded over a very weird love of exploring ravines that I now realized were probably full of crack dens and sewage.

L: Sat next to each other in a college lecture…we were both late and got stuck in the front row.  Fate.

M: Former student’s girlfriend, now a great shopping partner.

 

 

Why the World is Ridiculous in 60 Seconds or Less

Happy Tuesday!  Quick rant for y’all…what is with all of these social commentators talking about how 20 somethings are choosing not to get married?  I’m talking about columnists and researchers as well as Thought Catalog writers and your annoying newly-engaged BFF.  

First of all, using the word “choice” here is not super accurate.  I do not wake up every day to choose my shoes and my marital status.  It isn’t a singular control issue here – it takes two to tango, and my proverbial dance card is empty.  I’m a 20 something and I am not married.  I am not married for the same reason I didn’t go to prom – no one asked me.  It’s entirely possible that I would have gone if some young gentleman had inquired but none did, so I had a lovely evening out with friends instead (or maybe I watched movies with my cat and ate a king-size Hersheys bar, who remembers…).  And it’s entirely possible that tomorrow Prince Charming will appear before me and drop to his knees with a little blue box and I will scream “yes oh Prince I love you!!”, take some candid photos in sepia tint, and immediately start hunting Pinterest for new uses for burlap.  But it hasn’t happened yet.  And it might never happen.  And in the meantime I will be just fine with my prom date cat and my grown-up chocolate with sea salt and caramel and online shoe shopping.  Seriously.  But dear commentators, please stop boiling my life down to a choice.  It’s not that simple.  Getting married is not like buying shoes.  

Second, who the F cares if I’m not married?  And why do people find it SCANDALOUS that someone can be 20 something and single and not spending every waking moment out in search someone to add to my data network’s family plan?  SERIOUSLY PEOPLE.  I can work where I want, I can move if I want, I can spend whatever I want, be it on tuition or shoes or travel, I can come and go as I please, my roommate is perfectly capable of opening pickle jars and is happy to share cleaning chores, and my cat is a wonderful snuggle partner.  Plus I have a fabulous group of friends out doing fabulous things at a moments notice.  So maybe on a lot of levels I do choose to be single.  And that is just.fine.

Oh and PS, you’re welcome for saving the Fing economy bitches.  Because last I checked it with the young ladies of America who pulled our butts out of this recession.  So, so sorry for the failure to procreate on a timely fashion as well.

In the Words of Walt Disney

Voting is important.  Voting is your civic right.  Voting is a BFD.  Here are five reasons you probably haven’t already heard for why you should vote:

1. It’s a great excuse to miss half a day of work.

2. You get to meet your neighbors.

3. Regardless of whether or not your polling place gives out stickers, you get to legitimately engage in the debate over the existence of stickers.

4. Sometimes Girl Scouts will give out donuts, in exchange for money.

5. The Gap will give you a discount.

Oh, and also, because Walt Disney said so: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kvk1NZDFvZU.  Because it seriously is a BFD – why are you sitting here reading this??  Go vote!  And if you already voted, go read The Onion’s election coverage!