I Think My Spam Comment Just Asked Me Out.

Vintage Dating Advice

Usually, I just delete my spam comments en masse but yesterday, the most recent spam comment caught my eye. This is what it said…

“Hello to you. I am in town for the weekend and I would like kick it with you. Nothing serious but we will see where the night takes us, eh? Your blog is proper sexy- I think we will have sexy good times. What do you think? Show a tourist around?”

This hilarious comment was followed by about a dozen links to heaven only knows what. Obviously, it got deleted but I have to give that spammer mad props on making me laugh. If the links weren’t proof enough this was spam, the fact that the spammer would describe my blog as “proper sexy” shows they have never read this blog before. I mean, I get sent like 100 visits each month on the search term “anti-sexy” and last month got 25 visits out of the search term “anti anti sexy anti”, so clearly, this blog is not by any stretch of the imagination “sexy”.

Nice try spammer, you made me laugh, but not one link did I click.

When It Comes To Romance, I’m A Caveman.


I’m not really what any reasonable person would call “romantic”. In fact, when it comes to romance, I’m a caveman. A real, knock ’em on the head with a club, drag ’em back to my cave, and never speak to’em kind of gal. I could try and dig into the psychological reasons behind this but I won’t, mostly because I don’t want to. But, I do acknowledge that it’s a bit of a problem, especially in, you know, romantic situations. And I thought admitting that I had a problem would pretty much solve the problem but apparently “Hi. My name is Be A Lifehacker and I’m a caveman when it comes to romance.” doesn’t solve the problem and isn’t an addiction and therefore doesn’t qualify for the 12 steps. So, I’m back to the square root of one.

It’s not that I don’t like romance. I do. I love anything by Jane Austen and I totally cried my heart out in The Notebook. And, I have totally spent countless hours daydreaming about getting my romance on in my own really real life. It’s just, when it’s happening, the only things I can think to say are sarcastic or idiotic. For example, it once took me a 1/2 hour to respond “ditto” to something romantic. That’s 30 minutes. It literally took me 30 minutes to think of “ditto” and that was the most romantic response I could think of. And I’m a writer!

So, I did what any sane non-caveman would do. I googled it. What came up was “50 Very Simple Ways to be Romantic”, to which I thought “Oh good. It’s simple.” and then I saw that the website was called dumblittleman.com and I thought “Yep. This is exactly where I should go to learn to be romantic.”  so I read the list. Here are a few of my favorites.

Write “I love you” in the steam on the bathroom mirror after he takes a shower. I’m just going to have to clean the mirror after.

Write a poem. Then use Google Translator to translate a poem into either French or Italian. Then handwrite it out with the translation on the back side. Or better yet, greet your partner at night and read it to them with passion and then hand them the translation. Are you kidding me? Poetry? I might as well write a sonnet while I’m at it.

Make a CD with a few songs that are meaningful to your relationship. Ok. I like that one. But what if he thinks it’s stupid and then dumps me because I make stupid mix CDs? Huh? What then? 

Invite him to take a bath complete with bubbles, champagne, candles, and maybe a little Barry White. (the music, not actually Barry White in your tub.) RIP Barry. 

Surprise her at work and take her out to lunch, maybe take-out food in the park or maybe to a little diner, for a midday romantic interlude. Wait, eating out is romantic? I do that all the time. If that’s the case, I am the QUEEN of romance. 

Put together a little gift on his pillow: chocolate and a note that says “Your love is like chocolate: sweet and delicious.” NO. WAY. Do you think I live in a hotel? 

Send a text message or email that says “I love you!” I just heard someone say texts and emails weren’t romantic. Can we get on the same page here people??! Some of us are trying to learn. 

Leave a love note in her car telling her to have a great day. Oh. Well, that one’s nice.

Carve your initials in a tree. Maybe you haven’t heard but we are running out of trees. Talk about selfish. 

When your partner least expects it, give him a great big kiss, even if it’s in public! I don’t know. Unexpected kisses seem ill-advised. I mean, what if you kiss his teeth? Or he had food in his mouth? Or he burps?

Buy a tree and invite your partner to plant it with you explaining that this tree represents the love between you both that will grow over the years. Oh I get it. It makes up for the tree we defaced earlier.

Say “I love you” often, slowly, and with feeling. I……………………….Looooooooooooooooovvvvvvvveeeeeeee………….Yooooooooooooooouuuuuuuuuuuuuu……….


I guess I learned my romance lesson. No more will I say things like “Me Girl on Contrary…you cute….we date…..”

What’s your best romantic advice? Not that I need it….

He’s Just Not That Into You. Or Is He?

He's Just Not That Into You

I’m sure you’ve all heard about the book He’s Just Not That Into You. Or maybe you saw the movie. Or maybe you saw the Sex & The City episode where it all began. If you haven’t heard of the book, seen the movie, or watched the SATC episode, I need to first question your life choices. Next, I need to explain to you what this book is all about. Basically, HJNTIY (abbreviated because it’s annoyingly long and possibly poisonous) is a book written by a man and a woman about how most of the guys you like or are dating or are in a relationship with don’t really like you.

I read this book as soon as it was released. I watched the authors on Oprah. I was a believer. I was liberated by this book. It was like “Hey. It’s good to know up front that you don’t like me so I don’t waste any of my time fretting and shaving my legs. Don’t worry, you don’t have to say you don’t like me. This book already told me you don’t like me.”  And believe it or not, that felt kind of good. For quite some time, I wasn’t concerned with whether or not guys were interested in me because HJNTIY told me they weren’t. If a guy wasn’t calling, texting, making plans with, or making out with me then he just wasn’t that into me. If a guy initially called, texted, made plans with, and made out with me and then failed to do one of those things, even missed one day, it meant he may have been into me but was no longer into me anymore. And I believed that because HJNTIY was on Oprah and therefore the gospel truth. Imagine me wasting all those years thinking guys liked me! How foolish. How childish. Finally, I was freed from that silliness and could now move forward knowing that almost every guy I met/liked would not be into me.

Great. So it made me feel good, until it made me feel like crap. This book had me convinced that none of the guys I liked were into me. Even the ones who probably were. If a guy I was dating didn’t call, text, make plans with, or make out with me, even missed one day, I was over it. I bailed out faster that Wall Street (BOOM economic humor). I didn’t give them a chance because I decided that they didn’t like me. Why did I decide that? Because HJNTIY told me to. Also, there may have been an element of self-preservation in there but I’m really more comfortable blaming outside sources.

For years, this book poisoned my mind against guys and against myself. Even though the book tells you time and time again that you’re beautiful, desirable, and utterly fantabulous it follows up all of those comments by telling you the guy you like doesn’t like you back so…..kind of a mixed message there. Don’t get me wrong, I really do think the heart of this book is in the right place, I just think it would have been much better to say “Hey. Don’t date assholes.” although, that would have been a much shorter book and Oprah probably wouldn’t approve. And sure, yes, if a guy never calls and always bails on you, he is probably not that into you, but if he misses one day then maybe don’t pull out the fried chicken and ice cream just yet, he’s probably still into you. Maybe don’t freak out and preemptively dump him.

And believe me, I totally sympathize with the get out before you get hurt instinct, hell, I would say that’s been the overall theme of my dating history, but some guys are totally worth ignoring that instinct for and conversely some aren’t. I don’t know, use your best judgement not some over-generalized and slightly insulting books. And hey, don’t date assholes.

I May Have Gotten Stuck In A Wormhole.

Why do they have to be in high-heels?

Check-check-check-check it out. I flirted y’all. And not only did I flirt, I flirted successfully. My sudden onset of flirtation domination can only be a result of one of the following…

1. I got stuck in a wormhole.

2. I was possessed by a very sassy ghost.

3. I was possessed by a very sassy ghost while stuck in a wormhole.

4. I was drunk. (P.S. I wasn’t drunk)

5. Cupid punched me in the face and gave me a concussion.

So, what do you think? Where did my sudden skills at flirting come from? I’m open to other suggestions, but for my money, it was probably because of number 3. And I bet you all want me to give you the play-by-play of what happened but I’m keeping mum for now because I’m a lady and prefer not to publicize my romantic conquests on a blog.

Just kidding. I’m totally going to tell you guys what happened. Maybe. Not today but another day that has a “y” in it like “New Year’s Day” (now with a lot more “y”!)

The Best Date I Ever Had, And I Didn’t Know It Was A Date.

I'm an idiot

When I was in university, I had the most amazing date ever in the history of the world. No exaggeration. The funny part, because I know you’re expecting a funny part, is that I didn’t even realize it was a date until it was over. True story.

I was very good friends with this guy, we’ll call him Mr. Romantico, and he and I spent quite a bit of time together and got along splendidly. One day, Mr. Romantico and I were having a discussion about dating and I mentioned that it would be so amazing if a guy sent you a written invitation for a date. About a week later, I received a letter in the mail. It went a little something like this:

Dear Ms. Contrary,

You are cordially invited to attend a dinner party for two at my residence on Friday night. Dress is casual. There will be wine. Please RSVP.


Mr. Romantico

You may think that it was obvious to me that I was being asked out on a date. And to that I say, sure, when I tell you it ended up being a date and with hindsight and all that jazz, it’s easy to know it was a date, but when it was actually happening, it was a lot less clear. Also, fine, I should have known. Whatever.

So, obviously, I accepted the invitation and went to his house that Friday night- still none the wiser that I was actually on a date. When I got there, he had some awesome music playing on his turntables, Mr. Romantico had the best taste in music and he only ever played it on vinyl, and he was making me dinner. Seriously. He made me dinner. It was delicious. It was some type of pasta dish that had lots of yummy vegetables and a fresh tomato sauce and we each had a very large glass of red wine. Basically, he was setting a pretty stellar mood that I was completely oblivious to. Had I known I was on a date, I would have pretty much been swept off my feet.

After dinner and another glass of wine, he taught me how to play chess. I know. I told you it was the best date ever. He was so patient and thoughtful and we laughed a lot and he totally let me win. We listened to some more music and then I hugged him and left. We still saw each other fairly frequently but he graduated soon after and that was that. Although we haven’t spoken in years, when I think about the coolest people I’ve ever known, he is in the top 5. (As a side note, I totally keep a list of the coolest people I’ve known. It really helps me measure my own coolness in comparison.) It wasn’t until I was describing that night to a girlfriend of mine and she said “Um, that sounds like the most amazing date ever.” That I realized I had, in fact, been on the most amazing date ever and not even realized it. How do you say “what a waste” in Latin? I ask for it in Latin because it seems like the right language to really underscore what a waste of a lovely date that was. Also, how do you say “I’m a schmuck.” in latin? I feel like thats a sentence I need to memorize in every language.

R.E.M. Is Screwing With Me.

So, the other day I was leaving my place to meet a friend at the movies. I was playing it pretty low key. I wasn’t wearing any make-up other than mascara, was wearing shorts and a comfy top, gladiator sandals (my go-to shoe), and my hair was in a ponytail. Without sounding too disparaging, I wasn’t looking my foxiest, but was not especially concerned about it either. So, I’m walking to my car and I see a cute guy. Like, a really cute guy. He was walking back from the pool and had no shirt on. Bascially, it’s everything a flirtation failure like me fears in life. Hot guy+no shirt= me hiding in the bushes. Except, this time, I didn’t hide. I didn’t want to run late for the movie ( as a side note, I saw Horrible Bosses and it was hysterical). So, I just kept walking to my car.

Then, something miraculous happened. He smiled at me. And not like a polite smile, it was a full on, checking me out smile. Needless to say, I was stunned. So stunned that I was able to smile back. Miraculous indeed. I got into my car and as I was pulling out of my parking space noticed he turned around to check me out again. I’m not even going to lie, I felt a little giddy. My self-esteem bucket was overflowing. If you don’t know what a self-esteem bucket is, you obviously weren’t in my high school speech class, where I learned that everyone has a bucket of self-esteem and when you compliment someone, you help fill their bucket and when you insult someone, you take self-esteem out of their bucket. It’s very scientific, although my sociology professor in college wasn’t super impressed.

So, with a full bucket of sunshiney self-esteem, I turned on my car radio feeling like good music would complete this perfect moment. What I got was R.E.M.’s ‘It’s the End Of The World As We Know It’. So, if I’m to understand the universe and R.E.M. correctly, when a superfox checks me out it is the sign of an imminent apocalypse. Huh. I guess you should all prepare yourselves for the apocalypse because that for sure happened.

Thanks a lot R.E.M., just when things are looking up, your song predicts the end of the world. Good grief.

I Googled That.

You know, I really pride myself on using correct grammar. Sure, I make mistakes and I’m sure you could find about 1,000 in this blog (as a side note, please don’t do that, it makes you a douche-bag). So, when I don’t know the correct usage or pluralization of a word, I look it up. I’m telling you this because you need to know that about me for two reasons.

1. It’s important that we get to know each other better.

2. It will give some perspective to this post.

So, I’m on Twitter the other day and I see this:

Seth Myers Twitter

I thought it was pretty clever, which is to be expected, and I wanted to respond with an equally clever reply. Because, and I’m not totally sure about this, but I think I want Seth Myers to love me. Or at the very least think I’m hysterical, which to me, is basically the same thing. I wanted my reply to say “Hey! I’m a cute girl with a killer sense of humor. We should grab dinner sometime and I will charm your pants off (literally) with my humor.” Or, you know, something like that.

But, before I could officially reply, I had to Google this: “What is the plural of penis?”

True story.

You see, I have always referred to multiple penises as “peni”, and though I have some vague memory of creating that word because I thought it was funny, I’ve used it as if I learnt it in sex education on the day when they talked about how to refer to genitalia in the plural.  And can I just say, I think we should have probably spent more time on that lesson and less time on herpes. No offense to herpes but there are only so many mouth and junk sores I can look at in a day. As a side note, “junk” refers to genitalia and I actually did learn that word in school but not in an official class. Anyway, I Googled the plural of penis and it turns out it was penises and not peni. Personally, I think peni sounds funnier but, who am I to judge the English language? Now whenever I start to type any word that starts with “P” Google suggests some pretty racy stuff. It’s getting a little bit inappropriate Google, I wanted to find “pizza places” not “porn palaces”. Get it together.

Anyway, my reply tweet to Seth Myers was this:

Be A Lifehacker Twitter

It was a disaster. I was clearly too aggressive with the capital letters. Instead of being cute and sarcastic my tweet came off all yelly and stuck-up. Alas, no dinner invitation was extended and really, I can’t blame the poor guy. My tweet effectively punched him in the junk and then laughed at him when he cried in pain. Although, I have to say, I laughed hysterically at my own tweet for like, 2 minutes. At least I think I’m hilarious. This could probably be a Flirtation Failure post, no?