What I Deserve

We've all heard that line, whether it be from a friend, a person your dating, or even a family member: "You deserve better." I hate those three words. In all of my years, I've always prescribed to the idea that we get what we deserve, or in better terms, we're given what we can handle. But in the past few months, I have found myself more and more astonished with the pile of shit that keeps building up on my plate. For example, did I really deserve that horrifying experience on the day of the marathon? Some would argue that no one deserves that, but I would rebut that it happened to me for a reason.

The entire next two weeks, where my ears were ringing and work was closed gave me a lot of time to think. And here's what I came up with: We often become so preoccupied with ourselves that we forget to put things in perspective. Even the most miniscule first world problems seem to piss us off. But then, we take it to the next level. We get wrapped up in making bad decisions, whether it be about our health, our finances, or our dating lives. To some extent, I feel that we become masochistic just to give us an excuse to think more, talk more, and focus more on ourselves. After all, we are selfish beings to the core. So, with this realization soon after the marathon, I gave myself time to be truly selfish. Yep, instead of becoming Mother Teresa, like you may have expected, I just gave a giant middle finger to my karma and said 'screw you'.

Oh yes, I did.

It was a rare opportunity to be so self-centered that I literally got sick of myself. Okay, maybe it wasn't that bad, but close! I did whatever I wanted, and broke more than a few 'rules' along the way. I've never been known to go by the book, but these past few months, I crossed a lot of lines I normally wouldn't have. This wasn't some YOLO B.S., either. In fact, I think my realization just presented an opportunity to live life to the fullest, and strut with a little more swag than I typically do. And trust me, my normal swag is already obnoxious. Everything was literally over the top. Figawi for Memorial Day weekend? Screw that, I'm going to Vegas. Instead of having one back up for my date, I would have four. When I went in for one drink at the bar, I convinced the guy next to me to buy me three. Just me being aggressive at it's finest. Would I say that I have gotten it all out of my system? Absolutely not. But, this binge of selfishness is just what I needed to be able to finally take a step back and throw things in to perspective and help me realize what I can handle, or better, what I deserve.

A glaring example is my current dating life, or what semblance of it still exists. Have I gotten what I deserve? 100%, yes. And the funny thing is, every time I break it off with a guy because he's acting like a total twat, they tell me, "I'm so sorry I couldn't give you what you deserve," blah blah blah. Seriously? You think I'm buying that?  I just want to reply, 'Look champ, I chose to hang out with you, so I deserve whatever douchebaggery you threw at me, and up until this very moment where I am now telling you that whatever we have going on can't continue, I brought this whirlwind of bullshit on to myself.' God, there are so many guys who I wish were reading this right now!!! But generally speaking, I'm addressing the entire male population. If a chick is staying with you when you're acting like the horrible human being that you probably are, she deserves it, and hopefully she can handle it. If not, you'll figure it out pretty quickly and move on before the craziness unwantedly seeps into your life.

And the most hilarious part of it all, the guys who actually treat us right, are the ones we have the least interest in. If I were looking to settle down, I would be concerned by this harsh reality. But the fact is, the sex is so much better with the disposable douchebags, and I know I can handle every last one of them with one arm tied behind my back.

Damn, it's nice to be back. 'Til next time,

A Babe In Boston

Recyclers Do It Twice

Spring is fast approaching here in Boston, and you know what that means: Figawi, copious amounts of sangria, and roof deck action (sexual and otherwise), which means less time to be on the hunt for new hookup prospects, and more time to enjoy the fruits of your labor. After what I would like to consider a banner year so far in the bone zone, I am finally looking to stop adding notches on my belt. No, I'm not settling down, but instead, recycling. Going green isn't just about plastic and paper, people. It's about your dignity, keeping your number down, and hooking up with a guy who already knows what you like, so you don't have to go through that awkward stage where you tell him you like your hair pulled and you get a confused look in return. What? So I like it when you're rough! Sue me. 

Not much beats a recycled romp. You already know the best morning after routes to avoid any walk of shame mishaps. He knows how to get you off. (And dear God, if he doesn't, why on Earth are you going back for more?) And, most importantly, it's an ego boost. If a guy is asking for Round 2, or in my case Round 5, you must be doing something right. Now, do I think any of these recycled goods have boyfriend potential? Sure I do, but I'm not necessarily going to act on it. Why ruin a good rotation? There's something so empowering about being in control of your sex life. If you want to get laid with the 6'6 basketball player who makes you feel like a rag doll, do it. The guy with the tongue that runs on Energizer batteries just texted you; send him a reply. Feel like cuddling? Hell yeah, I'm going to hit up my little black book; I have a snuggler in there some where!

I don't understand why more women don't take control of their sack session schedules. 9 times out of 10, if you aren't getting laid, you are no fun to be around. Your estrogen levels are too high for your own good, and you're overly emotional ass is pounding Ben & Jerry's as opposed to Hottie McScottie from two months ago. So he didn't text you back that one time. Build a bridge and get over it! Or as my man, Tupac, puts it: "Just leave the pieces on the floor and move the fuck on." Twenty bucks says he's still willing to ride you like The Cyclone at Coney Island a few more times. Men aren't the only ones with carnal needs that have to be satisfied, which makes it important to master your inner recycling powers so you can get in, get off, and get the hell out of there.

Even Ryan Gosling knows recycling is good for you.

To be clear, if you haven't caught on already, this is not relationship advice. This is purely for your sanity. I know too many good girls who have been ruined by a dry spell. Take this as a public service announcement and don't let that be you! There has got to be a stud in your arsenal that you can work into your 'green-routine". So, support recylcing, and wear the same clothes as you did last night. What? I never said it was going to be pretty...

'Til next time,
A Babe In Boston

The Math of Getting a Second Date

First dates are hard. The date starts and ends with questions. Where should we go? What should we do? Should I drink? What if I hate the guy half way through? Should I then drink heavily? If I end up liking him, what are the expectations at the end of the night? In the past few weeks, I've asked these questions way too many times. And once I'm on the date, I feel like I'm reciting Ben Affleck's Oscar acceptance speech, just trying to get in all the information about me in a couple of short hours to convince the guy that I'm hot shit. As awesome as I know I am, there's still some groundwork that has to be laid down in order to get to that all important second date. With that said, I have come up with what I think is a pretty simple formula to help take you to the next level:

(Conversation + Chemistry + Humor)

                  ---------------------------------- =   A Second Date

(Drinks)^3

For those that are not mathematically inclined, it bascially means: If conversation paired with chemistry and a little humor (primarily in the form of sarcasm) exists,  over three or so drinks (most likely sauvignon blanc), there is going to be a second date. Why? Because I said so. After 10 first dates in the past three weeks, this has worked every time. Just trust me on this one. There are also other mitigating factors, for example, how physical you are with a guy. Which leads me to the second most important equation:

First date + Sex = No Second Date

As much as you want to tell yourself that he really likes you, and just wanted to express how he was feeling, you're wrong. The guy just wanted to get into your pants. Sleeping with a guy on the first date is second date suicide. You might as well have not gone through the whole conversation asking about his family, hopes, and dreams. What a waste of time!!! If you just want to get laid, go to a bar with your girlfriends and hit on anything with a penis. Trust me, 9 times out of 10, you'll hit a home run. If you're looking for something more than that, keep your legs closed. Simple as that. Think you can generate a relationship out of a one night stand? Keep dreaming sister; the faster a relationship starts, the quicker it ends. That guy will be running out of there the next morning faster than you can ask him "So what are you doing later?"

Should have kept your legs closed...

So, you made it through the date and back home without putting out? Congratulations. But, you're only half way there. Now, the key is to keep him interested. And unfortunately, there's no equation to make you any more awesome, so rock what you've got. 

After reading this, some of you might be asking... "So wait, you're actually trying to keep a guy's attention longer than it takes to make you to orgasm a few times?" Damn right I am! After about 8 months of the single life, the charade gets old. I can only go to so many events with my engaged/married friends before I start rethinking my decision to acquire yet another FWB. Am I regretting the sex? Absolutely not. But am I slightly regretting the fact that I blew off another potential Mr. Right for a guaranteed hookup? Yup. There comes a point where a woman has to stop thinking with her g-spot, and for me, the time is now. 

40 Days and 40 Nights

I decided to take the plunge and give up something for Lent. No, I'm not Catholic, but the concept of giving something up for a period of time seems reasonable, and relatively healthy. These past 7 months have been all about excess in almost every way possible; from sex, shopping, and drinking, etc., so I figured if I am going to give up something, now is the time to do it. But, what to choose?

I don't think that I can pull a Josh Hartnett in 40 Days and 40 Nights and not have sex. It's already been a week without sex and I am in struggle city. While I think flicking the bean on a pretty routine basis is practically maintenance, doing that for an extended period of time without the option of sex just sounds absolutely miserable. I can only close my eyes and come up with so many scenarios.. if you catch my drift. I'm pretty sure after 40 plus days I would not be someone pleasant to be around. And then, what would happen after those six weeks? I would be an animal; like one of those little dogs that literally humps everything that moves. Not a good look babes, not a good look.

Then I consider my Starbucks addiction. I think I have consumed so many chai lattes that it is practically a part of me. My blood type is probably AB- plus a three pump, non-fat, extra hot, venti chai. I should probably mention that when I sign up as an organ donor...I digress. If I do the math and I give up my crack, I mean chai latte, habit, I could save $142.80 at the end of all of this!! BOOM, that's a bar tab. Psh, let's be real, I don't pay bar tabs. But you get what I mean. I'm just trying to think about the person I would be without my daily pick me up. I still want to be a reasonable person to be around. And not having Starbucks for 40 days would be like PMSing for six weeks straight. No one wants to be around that bitch.

I've also been considering unplugging for a while. You know, texting less and taking a break from social media. The past few days I have been without a cell phone, which has been massively liberating. I never thought I would be thankful for Verizon's awful customer service, but having to communicate via email and personal interaction has been relatively refreshing, and believe it or not, it has been doing wonders for my dating life. I swear, being technologically unavailable makes you 10x more desirable to men. If guys are genuinely interested, they won't mind a challenge. It's definitely brought a few knights in shining armor out of the woodwork.

Lastly, I could embrace the fact that I want my body to look like that of a Victoria's Secret model and give up sweets, or carbs, or alcohol. Scratch that, giving up alcohol is a horrible idea; a girl needs her gin and tonics. But seriously, what girl doesn't use Lent as an excuse to "cleanse"? Imagine, you're at a restaurant, and you're friends are trying to get you to eat the bread out of the bread basket, or the dessert that has a bagazillion calories, or god forbid, fat girl sushi... Oh sorry, I'm giving up any food makes my ass bigger for lent. They can't argue with that! Hello, this isn't just a superficial and shallow decision not to eat, it's religious, so don't cross me.

It looks like I have found my winner. Any foods that can be labeled as mASSive are officially off limits for 40 days... in moderation. What? A babe has gotta have her Ducali fix every once and a while.

'Til next time,

A Babe In Boston

Best Out Of Three

In a seven day period I will have had three first dates. It's an interesting phenomenon, considering I've been out of the "dating game" for a while. (Hooking up doesn't constitute as dating, in my opinion, and we all know I've done plenty of that.) My friends have been pulling guys out of the woodwork, who are "interested" in me, based on a few pictures, stats, and probably a couple of anecdotes. In some ways, I'm flattered. But in other ways, I think, why are my friends pushing all of these dates on me? Do I have a placard on my forehead saying "set me up!"? Do they think I'm taking the single thing too far? And if they do... would they be wrong? Don't answer that. You know what, though, at the end of the day, I'm not complaining! So here's where we're at so far:

Date 1:
The guy is an entrepreneurial lacrosse player who works with non-profits, and has a killer smile paired with a head of hair that Fabio would be jealous of. We connected over our love of mac 'n' cheese and Basil Hayden's at Lincoln in South Boston. I think we broke every first date rule I have ever been told. Don't drink too much, don't talk about past relationships, don't talk about sex, etc. Oh well! I don't think he minded either. Halfway through me telling a story when we were sitting at the bar, he leaned over and kissed me. Do I need to tell you how long it has been since a guy made the first move? I blame the fact that I'm pretty aggressive, but STILL, it was so refreshing. The only problem: he's my height. Yes, I'm tall. Yes, it's superficial. But with three guys on my plate, I'm allowed to nit pick, right? Regardless, he's still fun to be around, a good kisser, and has great taste in women (see what I did there?), therefore he is still on my radar.

Date 2:
The flavor of the evening? A tall, dark, and handsome guy with bowling skills only slightly better than mine. The Latin heat in him gave him some suave dance moves and charm for days. We ended up at Kings where we got our bowl on, which made for a pretty fun first date. The surprise of the evening, my high school crush ended up in the lane next to us. There's nothing better than when you see someone who you went to high school that looks a gazilion times worse than when they did 8 years ago. Even better, I look like Erin Heatherton compared to what I was all those years ago, and I was with a hot guy to boot. At some point on the date we ended up slow dancing in our lane and all of that faded away. Then, there was that moment. Yet another first kiss, another set of butterflies, and another successful first date. As Schmidt would say, so nectar.

Date 3:
It has yet to come, but to be honest, this is the one I am most excited for. One of my guy friends set it up, and he's pretty confident we are going to hit it off.

Even though the third date hasn't happened, it's pretty safe to say that I'm going to be stuck in a "Best Out of Three" situation. Yes, I am that confident that it is going to go well. If nothing else, I am the First Date Queen. I'm such a champion when it comes to first dates that Charlie Sheen stole #winning from me. This isn't a bad place to be, but it's hard when you have three great guys. Hopefully, they will help make the decision for me because I don't do so well putting all of my eggs in one basket.

On a different note, try to enjoy the snow day tomorrow, babes. Make a snow angel, throw a snow ball, or get out of dodge early and hit the slopes. I know I'm going to use it as an excuse to make my famous Amaretto hot chocolate and stay in and watch chick flicks all day. And if at some point I manage to trek my way over to Chay's house for a little afternoon delight, I wouldn't be mad about that either.

'Til next time,

A Babe In Boston

Here's to the Freakin' Weekend

This weekend I am getting my drink on. Yo-hoe-lo! We're talking gin and tonics, champagne, champagne, and more champagne, some kamikazes, scotch, and probably some more champagne. There's something so cathartic about going out with your girlfriends and getting hammered. The only problem is, all of the other bitches at the bar. Let's face it, if they were your friends they would be the coolest chicks in there, but the sheer fact that they aren't hanging out with you, makes them the most horrible people in the world. Is she wearing the same shoes as you? Poser. Is she macking on the guy you want to take home? Slore. Is she channeling her inner Lohan and having a little too much fun? Hot mess express. The list goes on.

Bitches be throwing shade all over the damn place! I mean, I'm gettin' it at 8am on the T, 3:30pm at Whole Foods, 6pm while hanging out in child's pose at yoga, and once it hits 11pm you better have your phasers on stun because these girls are ruthless! For the love of Jimmy Choo's, what is this world coming to? Can't a babe just enjoy the mating ritual - that is Boston nightlife - without mixing hatorade in her vodka soda? I don't like being a mean girl anymore than the next, but unfortunately a few sour grapes make it a necessity.

So, here is my plea to you, babes of Boston. Before you go out tonight, sit back, relax, and pop a fucking klonopin... just kidding (sort of). But, for real, pop a figurative chill pill and just focus on yourself tonight. Some of you are probably thinking, how the hell do I do that? Well, that's where I come in - here are a few tips to get you on the right track:

1. Get glammed up. You can't hate on anyone else when you're the hottest chick in the room, right?
2. Be a wingwoman. Besides the fact that your girlfriends will be eternally grateful, you'll feel victorious that you have just hooked her up with one of the few guys who is an 8 or higher at the bar.
3. Add salt and a lime. Tequila is an upper, so use it to your advantage. You dig?

And if all else fails, go out with a bunch of hot, straight dudes. If you don't know why that is a good idea.. we can't be friends.


Cheers to not biting each other's heads off this weeeknd!

'Til next time,

A Babe In Boston

Two roads diverged in the woods, and I took neither...

In the past few days, I have had the best of both worlds when it comes to men. On one end of the spectrum, I hung out with a drop dead gorgeous professional hockey player for virtually three days straight. On the opposite end, I had a whirlwind 24 hours with one of the most thought provoking and powerful men I have ever met. So who do I choose?

I had a ton of fun with the NHL player. He was a total goofball, really nice, and liked to have fun. The night we met, he actually sat at the bar and waited at my restaurant for 5 hours before I ended up giving him my number. He was a genuine, good looking guy who wasn't shy about his intentions, and he had a body to boot. The downside to mister-hockey-cutie-pie was that it was pretty evident he had been hit in the head with a hockey puck one too may times. So, as much as there was this physical chemistry between us, I knew it could never go anywhere... except to the bedroom. I know, I know. You are probably wondering why I didn't just suck it up. I'll tell you why... I can deal with a lot of things, but stupid isn't one of them. To put it in perspective, he bought a Star of David necklace from David Yurman because he thought it looked cool, yet, he's Catholic... 

Are you smelling what I'm stepping in?

And then there's the other guy, Mr. Wall Street. Now, I am a magnet for older men, and have been for quite some time. Constantly, from them, I hear: "you're genuine", "you're real", or "you cut through the bullshit". Yeah we all get it, I'm freaking awesome. While I have heard that from gents my age, I have a feeling the older ones probably value it a little bit more, you know, because they have been around the block a few more times. The man that I have spent the last 24 hours with was no different. He was intriguing, successful, and heartfelt, but he's 20 years my senior and sadly doesn't look like Brad Pitt. I thought Fred Astaire was too old for Audrey Hepburn in Funny Face, and the same goes for Mr. Wall Street and me. Besides, I'm pretty sure I don't want to be picking up this guy's Viagra prescription in 10 years, and wiping his ass in 20. Thanks, but no thanks. 

So, here I am confronted with two polar opposites. One, I want to sleep with and can't stand the idea of trying to have a conversation with, and the other, I could hang out with all day, but the idea of kissing him makes me feel borderline uncomfortable. Both have asked to see me again. And while it pains me, I just don't think I can do it. Looks like I'm just going to have to chalk it up to a free meal and a good time with both of these guys. Back to the drawing board.

'Til next time,

A Babe In Boston

P.S. If you haven't checked out this video with Kid President yet, do it. It will make you want to dance.