This post is sponsored by Cipo and Baxx Clubwear.

Last night, I had the pleasure of meeting a plethora of lovely DC ladies IRL for the first time. I immediately fell in love with Noe, as we chattered about our adorable awkwardness as human beings, the nerdalicious books we’re reading, and pondered why people are by and large unable to accept compliments from strangers.

(Preach.)

There were a two lovely girls behind us, enjoying each other’s company at the bar as they split a cheese plate (yes, I noticed because it was CHEESE. What’s your point?)

Suddenly, a deep voice boomed behind me, clearly directed at one of the girls:

“Excuse me, miss, but are you from Tennessee?”

Startled, I heard her hesitate.

“Um, no…”

“Well that’s funny… because you’re the only TEN I see!!”

Noe and I immediately doubled over with secret guffaws, shoulders shaking, clutching each other’s hands in a desperate attempt to control the peals of laughter.

It was a magical moment. I mean, this really HAPPENS? Even with my back to him, I could tell this guy completely deadpanned this. He wasn’t making a joke, or trying to be kitschy – he was 100%, in for a penny in for a pound, go big or go home, completely and totally serious.

Men of the world, please, please don’t do this. Cheesy pick-up lines – even if you ARE making a joke – are just not funny. You know what you should try? One of my all time favorites:

“Hi. I’m ____.”

Oy.

Mama said share.

…even though I haven’t been on an “I’m single” date in two years. *Evil cackle*

Head on over to read about the “S.C.O.R.E. System,” a la LiLu. And add your 2 cents while you’re at it.

Mama said share.

Hey kids, it’s time for a third round of responses to B’s new advice column!

(Past editions here, or for more B, check out “The Shiz My Boyfriend Says” here.)

Things to know:

• I have in no way read his responses. Like at all. I lit-rally just copied and pasted here. So, uh… yeah. This should be interesting.
• I’m scared. (See above.)

And away we go!

Spleeness:  If someone’s new date takes them to a surprise concert, should their musical taste be considered, thus ruining the surprise?  Another question: how would guys celebrate Valentine’s day if they could do it anyway they wanted? Would it still involve chocolate?

I think a surprise concert date is a pretty cool idea.  So 10 points to him!  However, if the actual concert blows and his musical tastes are awful that’s a quick minus 9 points.  Clearly a net gain.  However he could have enjoyed the same benefits if he bought you a nice bottle of wine/movie and not disclosed his love of American Idol’s Fantasia.  If a guy could celebrate Valentine’s day any way they wanted they would not celebrate it at all. Fact. And that non-descript day would probably involve beer rather than chocolate.

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Amanda: If a guy is telling a girl that he loves her, misses her, wants to be with her, but the guy is dating another girl, what IS his deal? Is he worth waiting around for?

I am afraid the obvious answer here is NO!  If he loves this girl, misses her, and wants to be with her he WOULD be with her.  That said, I clearly know nothing about your specific situation.  Perhaps there are mitigating factors that suggest you should be a little patient.  But I doubt it.

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Nikki: if a girl was going to propose to her boyfriend, what kind of proposal would knock his socks off?

I wonder what the protocol of a woman to man proposal is?  For instance, should she call up his mom and ask permission?  I don’t know (probably not).  From what I can tell, the driving force behind a big over-the-top proposals is so that woman can recite to everyone she knows what an amazing spectacle it was thus proving that she has the greatest fiancé in the world (I write fiancé because, without exception, she will say that word no less than 7.6 times a sentence).  Can you imagine a guy doing the same thing:

SCENE:

IN: PETE’S LIVING ROOM – NIGHT

Six guys sitting in PETE’S living room drinking beers around a folding table playing poker.

PETE: So, as I was saying, as the sun set across the ocean, we road our horses along the beach.  Bob, you can just picture my face when, off to the right, I notice a white linen tent pitched ahead of us – and no one around for miles.

Bob lets out a squeal as he lunges to hug Pete, spilling his beer in the process.

BOB: Ohmygod! Oh. My. God. I knew she was going to pop the question during your trip to Bermuda!  Tell him Raphael, I called it didn’t I!

PETE: Well, I’m glad at least one of us was surprised!  As we got closer, she helped me off my horse and pointed for me to look up across the ocean.  What do I see?  A plane– trailing the message: “Pete, I love you! Will you marry me – Sara.”

All the men in the room clap and high five one another.  Rob shotguns a beer in celebration.

PETE:  When I turned back around there she was–down on one knee–with the most gorgeous wedding band you’ve ever seen!

END SCENE

My point is, I imagine what would really “knock his socks off” is something that is truly from the heart.  Tell him why you want to marry him (he’s wonderful presumably) and why spend the rest of your life with him (fill in the blank).

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Sherryrose: Should the sex be had on a first date to find out if the whole mess is worth a second date? or should the third date rule be followed? seems like it would be a shame to get to the third date, tag it, and find out you were wasting your time on the other two dates… (either way…if it’s good you should have been having more of the sex, if it’s bad, you should have been long gone).

I am a very very firm believer that most dating “rules” are utterly stupid.  Use some common sense of course—don’t call the person 6 times the day after meeting—but waiting 73.5 hours is just as dumb.  That said, there is an unfortunate double standard when it comes to men banging on the first night and women banging on the first night.  I guess it depends on your read of the guy:  If you like him enough (or think he’s hot enough) to bang – have at it regardless of the number of dates.  If the sex is awful or he’s judgmental then at least you won’t waste any more time.  But always remember – wrap it up.

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That Kind of Girl: If you’re at a bar with a jukebox and only one dollar, what song is the most likely to start a spontaneous singalong?

It will vary by bar and regionally.  Boston (and anywhere there are asshole Red Sox bandwagoners: Sweet Caroline—Neil Diamond.  Texas (and at line dancing bars: Save A Horse, Ride a Cowboy—Big and Rich.  Gay Bars: Tiny Dancer – Elton John.  There are a only few songs  that will work regardless of location: anything by Michael Jackson, and the Ghostbuster’s Theme Song.  Who you gonna call? GHOSTBUSTERS!

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Kelly: So B… I was wondering what the protocol for staying in touch with an ex that already has a new g/f. Do guys want to keep in touch with there exes? is friendship really attainable post-break-up? I get that his new g/f would not be a fan of our friendship, but is there a way to make this transition easier?

My advice is not to keep in touch.  At all.  Especially if this was a recent breakup.

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MsDarkstar: Dear B, who in your household takes care of kitty waste related chores? In my household it’s me & I just want to know if it’s a dude thing to not change/scoop kitty boxes. And, you’re a dude, so I am getting your opinion. Thanks!

LiLu: For some reason, my darling dear missed this question, but I will tell you here and now that while it was SUPPOSED to be 100% my duty, as part of the contract for letting me even get the cats he was allergic to… he now will absolutely help out in that department. A good egg, I tell ya… a good egg.

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You wanted more B, you’ve got him, my friends! Ask your questions here for Round 4 of Life Advice from B.

Mama said share.

In light of the fact that I single-handedly deleted my entire 450-posts blog yesterday, I think we should all take a minute to hold hands and do some sort of earthy-crunchy breathing exercise. Maybe we can all go around the circle and say something “unique” about ourselves? Play the name game? I’ll be “LiLu Lamebrain”. Go!

I’m sorry. I just had a veryscary moment where I thought I might have lost all of you, this place, forever…

It did not feel good.

(And btw, the fact that it DIDN’T happen is a Christmas miracle courtesy of my dear friend Shauna, who originally set me up over here at the WP. She is up to her ears in customers already, but send some love her way via her blog or Twitter for me, mmmmkay?)

Anyhoo, I’ve decided to celebrate my further abomination on the interwebs blog existence with an installment of everyone’s favorite feature, The Shiz My Boyfriend Says (click for past Shizzes, obvs).

Commence!

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During the show Tool Academy, one of the contestants expresses his belief in the necessity of acting “aloof”.

From other side of couch…

B: Oh, hey… I didn’t see you come in there.

Me: You mean, to the couch we bought together… in the apartment we live in together?

B: Yeah. You been there a while? At least you look comfortable, that’s cool I guess. As long as you’re here, you might as well get me a beer.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

)A special thanks to B’s work wife Jill for sharing this with me.)

At B’s work Holiday Party, they were playing some sort of trivia game…

Announcer: Which organ, taken from the sperm whale, was the largest organ to ever be removed from an animal?

B: (jumps up and shouts) PENIS!!!!

Announcer: Penis! I have Penis over here. B was first to answer with the response of “penis”!

Everyone Else: [fucking DYING of laughter]

FYI? The answer was “brain”. Nice, darling. NICE.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As has become our routine, B sets down his beer next to my side of the couch to pass to him after he then stealthily acquires a cat for his lap- in this case, Axe Murderer. He settles in with her and then looks over at me…

B: Hey, look at her tail![Her tail is up, and I am, therefore, looking directly into the "eye". YOU know what I mean.]

Me: Aw, come on!

B: Hahahaha I made you look at her butthole! Pound it, girl cat! [He tries to "pound it" with Axe Murderer, who merely looks annoyed.]

Me: It winked at me, you a-hole!

B: Hahaha. [Notices the one great flaw in his evil plan...] Hmm. Maybe I should have asked you to hand me my beer BEFORE doing that…

Me: [Evil grin, BIG swig.]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

During the lazy snowed-in weekend, I managed to convince B to watch part of Step Up 2: THE STREETS with me. The premise: Unruly girl from “the streets” of Baltimore must go to hoity-toity arts school in order to stay with her foster mom, and is forced to choose between her “old crew” and the “new crew” she finds at said school. Then, obviously, the crews dance-battle it out in THE STREETS. While it’s pouring rain. Duh.

Me: I know this is horrible. You can change it if you want…

B: Naw… I relate to this, cause I actually broke up with 3 or 4 chicks because they told me they were going to school. I don’t need my women knowing how to READ and shit.

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And, in light of the fact that Maxie actually just GOT me a Bump-It for Christmas, I just had to include this gem…

(Commercial for the Bump-It comes on…)

Me: Why haven’t you gotten me that?!

B: I was hoping you’d get it for yourself! Why don’t you take some goddamn pride in your appearance. You’ve NEVER bumped it up!

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Sighhhhhhhhh. And everything is back to normal… just the way I like it.

Mama said share.

Yesterday, it just so happened that I doled out a lot of dating advice. This is kind of ridiculous, as I haven’t been on a date in almost two years, but hey, I had my fair shake before that.

But this wasn’t what concerned me on my dreary bus ride home after work; Lord knows I adore giving out (solicited) advice by the handful. But it occurred to me, as I tried not to get motion sickness while the 43 wound its way through rush hour traffic… that I will, in all likelihood, never go on another date again. And that thought made me warm and fuzzy inside, like a dose of riot eggnog in a can.

(Sidebar – ohmygaw LOOK Always Sunny Fans!!!!!!)

And then, the crazy, estrogen-floweth–over woman in me took over, and I thought, But what if.

What if one of us dies from the plu?

What if he leaves me for someone who doesn’t blog about our bowel movements, or getting peed on by our cats?

What if Maxie and I finally become famous reality TV stars, and the fame totally goes to my head and I accidentally bone John Hamm (just a little bit!) at Diddy’s “White Party”, and B can never forgive me?*

These are the important questions, folks.

Meanwhile, on the side of my insane inner monologue, I was simultaneously gchatting with a friend to get through the gray and ohsomoist ride home. My ballet flats were soaked through and my cold little tootsies dreamed of a warm fire and a serious comfort meal. Anyhoodles, this happened:

5:45 PM me: it is unbelievable out here

i just want to go home and cry

that’s how gross it is

5:48 PM Lexa: noo

that makes me sad

in the nethers

me: yes

i hope B made grilled cheese and tomato soup

because that is ALL I WANT

Finally home, I picked up a package at my building’s office- a surprise present for B- and trudged upstairs to find a nice bottle of red and shiny bigass wine glass sitting on the foyer table waiting for me.

“Awwww, honey! You are the best in the world!” I called, and made my way into the kitchen. “Here, I got you a little something…”

Without even looking at the package, he beamed at me and said, “Always Sunny Christmas movie?!”

“Uh, YES, actually,” I replied. Then I looked down at the frying pan, where he was cultivating what looked like the most delicious sandwich in the world.

“Um, baby?” As I took in the panini, the soup humming in the microwave, I looked at him in awe. “Are you… are you making grilled cheese?”

“And tomato soup,” he replied. Wait for it… “AND French fries!”

I died. I went to heaven.

And I knew, as I have a thousand times before, that this?

Is absolutely PERFECT, and I am one lucky sumbitch.

*Besides, John Hamm is totally on my “LIST”, so B couldn’t break up with me for that anyway. Boo yah!

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Awesome Announcement #1: You may have seen my tweets that I am honored to be DC Blogs‘ newest contributing editor. My first efforts are posted today- please head over there and let me know what you think.

Awesome Announcement #2: 20SB is now accepting nominations for this year’s 2010 Bootlegger Awards! Totally and completely badass. Make sure to nominate your faves…

Awesome Announcement #3: Since none of us will be looking at a computer on Thursday, other than the boys checking their Fantasy scores, I will be posting the fifth installment of TMI Thursday “Post Secret Style” tomorrow instead, and leave it up all weekend. Remember you can absolutely send more in, any time (to heylivitluvit at gmail dot com)! Every last one will be posted. This is too much fun- let’s keep it going!

Mama said share.

As a woman in a somewhat functional relationship, there are times when *gasp* girlfriends come to ME for dating advice.

Sometimes they even do it sober.

(I know, right?!)

Anyhoo, while it may seem that I am old and married and perpetually on our couch curled up in my pj’s having fart-off contests with B, there was a time- not so long ago, even- when I too was a single gal fighting my way through the “scene”.

When I think about my dating history, well… let’s just say there’s a lot to learn from. While most of the guys I dated were, I believe, good guys at heart, they were lacking in a myriad of different ways when it came to true partner material. Not so long ago I considered what my Dealbreakers for Friendship have evolved to be, over many years of befriending the good, the bad and the ugly. What would that list look like if I were to create it for a relationship? When would I tell a girlfriend to cut and run, based on my own experiences?

*Keep in mind these are meant to be for that first year or so, when you’re deciding whether this hot tamale really has the legs to make it… not after you’ve been together for five years and are hitched with munchkins. That is wayyyy out of my league.

Thank the baby Jeebus Amen.*

And so. My “red flags” that would (now) send me running for the hills, were I to be thrust (TWSS) back into The Game We Call Dating…

Get TFO (The Fuck Out) If…

You like his family and friends more than him.

Alone time with him stresses you out.

If he admits your ass looks fat in that.

You go on vacation for the first time… and it is a huge, enormous, fail. (If you can’t make it through a long weekend of traveling… you can’t make it at all.)

He puts the TP on so it comes out the bottom instead of over the top. (No explanation necessary.)

You have ever been truly frightened that he would do something to purposefully harm you, physically or otherwise.

If he spends more time primping than you, and by extension…

You and your friends joke-about-but-secretly-truly-worry that he might be gay.

You go a week without sex… and don’t notice. (Remember, this is for new-ish couples only. If you’ve got a couple of toddlers, from what I hear, once a week would be porn style.)

If you can’t let your inner dork/freak fly when you’re alone.

If he avoids meeting the people you love most.

If he believes you when you say you don’t want anything for your birthday.

If he doesn’t make you laugh. Like, all the time and stuff.

If you think, deep down, that he would probably bone your best friend, given the right circumstances.

If you feel like you pay for more than he does. (Disclaimer: unless you make a significant amount more than him.) (Disclaimer not valid if he’s unemployed- and we’re talking real trailer park trash unemployed, not “the economy is flushed” unemployed.)

If he lets you down instead of building you up, a la Mr. Astley.

And, finally…

If you’re unhappy more often than you’re happy.

This is obviously just one chick’s perspective. Unfortunately I’ve never been a dude, so I can’t speak for them, but I’m pretty sure the main two are “stops giving beejays” and “keep talking”, yes?

P.S. The gorgeous and unbelievably adorable Ben Boudreau of No Ordinary Rollercoaster has made me my very own personalized vlog in response to my question to him:

“Is it possible for you to *not* melt men’s- and Kelly Clarkson’s- hearts worldwide with those big puppy dog eyes?”

It may or may not involve the word “schnookums”…

LOVE. IN THE FACE.

Mama said share.

Housekeeping: As you may now know, I’m in the process of moving to wordpress (any minute now!) While my url will still be http://livitluvit.com, the one problem is that if you subscribe to my posts via Google Reader or whatever, they ain’t going to show up no more.

So let’s fix that, here and now. Simply click the button below to subscribe to my NEW home via your Google or other favorite reader… thanks, lovies!

Last week, I posted my biography I’d written for a marketing company I’m working with. One of my favorite bloggers I stalk, I mean love, the gorgeous and charming Elizabeth Marie of It’s Unbeweavable!, was not the first person to consequently suggest in the comments that I write her online dating profile for her… but she was the only one who emailed me and said, “No, really… will you?”

My answer? NO DOY.

So she sent me the questions her OKCupid dating profile asks her to fill out, and away we go!
 

Elizabeth Marie, in a OKCupid nutshell…

1. My Self Summary

I am what I believe is scientifically referred to as “A Goddamn Ray of Sunshine.” No, really. I am the most kickass combination of delicate little flower and Z-snapping diva with a ‘tude you’ve ever met.

I adore all things hair, make up and fashion, and no, I’m not sorry. I rock a pair of heels better than a Key West drag queen. I want to hate the term “fashionista” like a restauranteur hates “foodie”, but, frankly, it describes me.

Now, my closet may be high-maintenance, but my heart is not. I only smile genuinely. I am fiercely loyal yet dangerously open, and I am a firm believer in being able to laugh at yourself.

In short, I am a girly girl, (with a side of girly), and a big ass heart. And you? Are gonna love it.

When I’m not busy dropping nuggets of fabulosity on people everywhere I go, (I don’t even know what that means!), I’m busy making the world a more beautiful place.

No, not by cleaning up highways, or convincing people to recycle.

I, my friends, am a make up artist.

(And believe me… I am doing the world a big ass favor, one slightly less busted face at a time.*)

*I’m kidding. No, really, I am. Oh, and FYI… People missing a slightly twisted sense of humor need not apply.

Singing off key and with reckless abandon, watching horrible reality TV shows to boost my self esteem, and being a stellar athlete. (Athlete = working out my right arm as it lifts delicious food and glasses of various libations to my mouth.)

Oh, and something called DSL’s, but I’m not sure what those are. Let me just Urban Dictionary that… oh my! Wildly inappropriate, yet undeniably flattering. Well, my lip gloss IS called “Orgasm“, after all…

Also, shoes.

Her homemade sangria.

A horrifically bad date every now and then to make fun of with my friends.

Lazy Sunday mornings. Preferably with a side of mimosa, please and thank you.

It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia.

Mad, passionate, almost inconceivable love.

Playing as hard as I worked all week…

And definitely not wishing I was home in my bunny slippers playing Apples to Apples with my best friends. That would be ridiculous. *awkward chuckle*

8. You should message me if…

You would never wear a brown belt with black shoes, would be willing to dress up as Green Man for Halloween, and are man enough to appreciate a girly girl who isn’t going to pretend she’s something she’s not.

So, boys… what do you think? Would you *wink* at her, or whatever the hell it is you do on those sites?

Click here to read Elizabeth’s reaction to this mess of a profile I sent her. I hope she still talks to me.

Mama said share.

All right, if everyone’s done judging me for yesterday’s TMI Thursday (I keed, I keed), let’s move on, shall we?

It’s my Friday off and my girls and I did it up right at Wonderland last night, so you all know what that means… it’s time for The Shiz My Boyfriend Says!

Here’s some precious little nuggets from the last couple weeks…

If you read yesterday, you know I’ve been a little “irregular” lately…

B: (Calls to me in the bathroom) What do you want for dinner tonight?

LiLu: Don’t talk to me when I’m on the toilet! You know I don’t like that!

B: Baby, if I didn’t talk to you when you pooped, when would I talk to you??

Minutes later, on the couch, I walk over and straddle B…

B: Ahhh! You’re sitting on me and you’re all poopsy!

While laying in bed one night…

B: Rub me! I rub you so much more than you rub me. You won’t even scratch my back for more than two seconds.

LiLu: I hate getting skin under my fingernails! It’s gross.

B: But THEN, if I ever murder you, my skin cells will be under your nails and they’ll catch me! Win!

LiLu: Oh, FINE. But only for the autopsy.

On gchat:

B: east bound and down has been renewed for a 2nd season
praise be to baby jesus
i’m so happy i’m going to finger you with my penis tonight!

Seeing that he took my laundry out of the dryer and threw it on my dresser:

LiLu: Asshat.

B: Cuntlicker.

LiLu: You WISH.

B: I do wish. (Contemplating…) Well, maybe not full-time. That would suck. Maybe part-time, like a hobby.

LiLu: Like instead of blogging? You wish I ate pussy?

B: No, you blog every day. That’s too much. Maybe as often as you do laundry.

LiLu: Once a month?

B: Sure. (Looks down) Maybe as often as you wear two matching socks.

LiLu: That’s never.

Literally five seconds ago:

B’s phone alarm goes off next to me in the living room, scaring the everlivingshit out of me. He strolls in from the bedroom, wearing a white T shirt… and nothing else.

LiLu: What the…?

B: My pants were too hot!

He turns, and strolls nonchalantly back to the bedroom. (Cute butt though.)

Oh, how I love this man.

A couple of sidenotes before you skip off to your merry weekends!

First off, if you’re coming out for Happy Hour tonight, see you there! If you’re not, your mother was a hampster and your father smelt of elderberries. If you’d LIKE to but you don’t know what the eff I’m talking about, email me at livitluvit at livitluvit dot com and we shall remedy that immediately.

Second, mucho mucho grande thanks to Maegan from …Love Maegan, Bon Don from “Who Throws a Cupcake? Honestly,” Muppet Soul, The Rambling Diva from C’est What??, and LUCKLYS!!! (I’M SORRY I FORGOT!!!) from how lucky we are for bestowing some kickass awards on me this week! These awesome ladies all ROCK MY WORLD (and not just cause they love me, snort), so go check ‘em out, stat.

Happy weekend, chucklefucks!

Mama said share.

Listen, ladies. A lot of you out there in our wonderful little blogosphere are single. And that? Is FABULOUS. You are amazing and confident and satisfied all on your damn own. And that is absolutely wonderful.

But of course, you’re open… you’re open to the idea that Mr. Right might just walk around the corner on your lunch break. You’re aware that the man who buys you a drink at the bar COULD just end up being an amazing guy, and not just some sleaze who wants to get into your pants. You just might begrudgingly attend yet another (goddamn) engagement party, only to look into the eyes of The Man You Want To Spend The Rest Of Your Life With. It could happen.

Just because you’re perfectly content on your own doesn’t mean you’re not aware of the possibility. And that’s good- it’s a great and healthy place to be.

But I’m here with a message. One that is important to me, given that I myself came so very, very close to letting the one person that I Want Forever slip through my fingers.

You see, my outgoing, sassy and boisterous bartending personality is something I have developed over many years. It has served me well in many- nay, most situations. But, as I discovered, it can also be a bit of a curse.

When I met B at Fado on that fateful night last June, I knew that I felt something special that night when we ended up making out on the steps of the church on 8th Street… but I didn’t know if it was anything more than that.

At 2 pm the next day, my phone rang. That night, he popped in to the bar where I was working… and I pulled my most bartender-y of ‘tudes on him; I put on a show to see if he was intimidated.

He was. And I almost wrote him off, calling him a “quivering little bunny rabbit” the next day in my post. I almost canceled our real first date before it even happened. I almost let the best thing that’s ever happened to me slip away, because I wanted to write off the Nice Guy. I figured he couldn’t handle me, that he was lacked confidence, that he was weak. And I have never been more wrong about anything in my life.

B is the strongest man I have ever known. He is the perfect balance for me… he is EXACTLY what I need to mellow me when I need mellowing, and to let me bring a little crazy (spice) into HIS life. It is a killer combination, and it works.

So, ladies, this is my message to you… basically, Don’t Be Me. Don’t ignore the nice guy in the bar. Don’t write him off because he’s nervous when he says hello. Don’t assume that because of that, he is a boy and not a man. After all, approaching girls is terrifying- imagine if WE had to do it! If they’re man enough to come up and say “Hi,” give him a chance. Plainly speaking, remember this…

“NICE” OR “QUIET” DOES NOT EQUAL A LACK OF CONFIDENCE.

We all want a confident guy, right? Well, that normally translates to the immediate gratification of the loudest, most obnoxious guy at the bar. Of course he’s confident… but he’s also crossing the line over to “cocky.” Wouldn’t you rather have that strong, silent type? The Don Draper kind of man? The guy that takes a little longer to get to know, but once you do… once you crack that shell, the things that are inside are AMAZING?

The problem is, pop culture always portrays the girl ending up with The Sap. And that’s kind of bullshit. That’s not what women want. They want strong, confident men, who are willing to take charge when necessary, but are also able to show care and compassion.

What we are forgetting, my dear ladies, is that there is not only The Sap and The Asshole. There is a whole world of men in between. You just have to dig a little deeper to find out which ones they are.

Mama said share.

After a comment yesterday from my new blog crushes, pistols at dawn over at Save Your Generation, I think it might be time to take B down a peg or two…

pistols at dawn said:

The face you’re making in the first picture is officially The Funniest Thing On The Internet today. Congrats to B on being awesome, although as a dude, I’d appreciate it if he’d drop the ball a little more often because he’s making us uncaring jerks look bad.

Sure, technically, we’re making ourselves look bad, but personal responsibility doesn’t match well with being an uncaring jerk.

After reading that, I knew it was time for yet another installment of: Shiz My Boyfriend Says! He ain’t so perfect, after all. But he does make me laugh…

Enjoy, lovers.

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This weekend, during the First Snuggie Fest ’09:

B: You know what my favorite thing about today was?

LiLu: Me?

B: Uh… I was going to say, “not wearing pants ALL day”. But that works too.

LiLu: Well, that is what Snuggies are for.

(At least in this apartment…)

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After an extremely “potent” meal…

LiLu: [low, strange guttural sound involuntarily exits throat]

B: WTF was that??

LiLu: Oh, whatever. At least when I burp, I blow it to the side!

A few minutes later, the stench of stale hot dogs fills the air…

LiLu: Aw, baby! Gross!

B: I didn’t even burp! … I just breathed!

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While watching “The Science of Sex Appeal“, they demonstrate that men who have been exposed to the ‘scent’ of a women immediately before working out, work out harder.

B: So… I should smell your vag before going to lift weights?

LiLu: Apparently… *wink* It’s all about the pheromones, baby.

Two moments later, he stretches, grabs my head and buries it in his arm pit:

B: You love my pheromones! GET SOME!!!

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Walking home from a bar:

B: Oh my lord, I just had the BEST idea.

LiLu: About what?

B: About what to do to you the next time we make a bet and you lose.

LiLu: WHAT?! That’s horrible! … Tell me!

B: Fine, fine… I would make you come home after work, but STAY IN YOUR WORK CLOTHES until bedtime! Meanwhile, I’m sitting there cozy in my pajamas for hours! *Evil, evil cackle*

LiLu: [In horror] Who ARE you?

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Approximately two seconds ago (as I write this), sitting on the couch, he pulls out some chapstick and, after using it, offers it to me. I accept, and gratefully apply it perhaps just a bit too enthusiastically…

B: Holy shit. You just fellated my chapstick.

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We are so goddamn special. Truly.

Mama said share.