Category: Dating


One of my friends has been seeing the same girl for three years. He likes her – maybe even loves her – but the main perk of the relationship for him is the sex. I wanted to give him an idea on how much his cock is costing him, so I asked about the amount of money he spends on his girlfriend each week. Answer: $50-100. We’ll say $75.

$75 x 52 weeks x 3 years = $11,700. This doesn’t include gifts.

Is it worth it? Obviously for him it is, but I just can’t accept this cost simply for access to a girl’s mouth and vagina. “But how about companionship?” Sorry, I’m not co-dependent. She has to be great for me to consider spending more than an hour a week with her.

A little over a year ago I just accepted the fact that I will get laid a little less simply because I want to do it on my terms. It’s my world and if a girl wants to come along for the ride – a ride unlike any other – then fine. Otherwise, no thanks. All it has cost me is a couple notches with spoiled girls who expect to be treated like a princess. But I don’t have the problems that other guys do. I can never bitch that I’m being used for attention or played for a fool.

For the guys who do have a girlfriend, I hope you stick with her for better reasons than just sex, such as drama or excruciating “how was your day” phone calls. I will vote with my wallet and spend those 12 g’s on things or experiences I consider more rewarding..

Slight upgrade to current ride


1. Cute face, long hair, big ass. Breasts are not important unless you are heavy set, but in that case I wouldn’t be dating you anyway. (99% of female readers are disqualified from this step alone.)

2. Leaves immediately after sex.

3. Not a status-driven cunt.

4. Sex juice that smells like garden herbs.

5. Not an overachiever. You need to make time and energy for me, not your lame “career.”

6. Not a dirty whore. It’s okay if you are a whore (what girl isn’t?) as long as you’re not too dirty. I don’t want the herp.

7. Vagina tight like a man’s anus.

8. Must not mind hanging out twice a month at the most.

9. Extra petite so it appears that I am like a baby’s arm.


We’ve all got them. I’m not talking nitpicky, Libby Copeland-type stuff. I mean major lifestyle choices, hobbies, and social behavior that is just unacceptable. Now, a dealbreaker is not a death sentence. If you are perfect in every other respect and then mention that you possess one of the dealbreakers, I *might* be willing to overlook it. On the other hand, if you are borderline, that db is going to be enough to make me be nice to you but if you try to close it is not going to work and I’m going to go home with your friend who has long nosehairs.

The most egregious dealbreaker, for me, is living outside the District. I don’t have a car, and while I really don’t mind taking the bus or metro to an easily accessible outside-the-district locale (say, Pentagon City), if you tell me that you live in Alexandria, it’s over. For one thing, that eliminates the possibility that I can without significant hassle – because I hate hassles – sleep over on a weeknight or bring homemade food to your parties. It also means that we really can’t do spontaneously fun things in my neighborhood together and it means that if we hang out, it will probably be for an extended period of time, and then I will want to kill you by the end of the day.

The second worst is telling me that you work for an asshole or an asshole company or organization. Granted, what constitutes an asshole is subjective but I can say right now that if you work for Senator Conrad Burns, a pro-life organization, or a certain PR company that I am not going to mention but has a major morally-bankrupt client, you might as well buy me a drink to apologize for being an asshole by ass-ociation (couldn’t resist) and then walk away slowly so I don’t kick you in the balls. However, there are things I can overlook if all other characteristics are in order, like working at Heritage Foundation, because I’ve never actually met an asshole who worked for them. If I do however, Heritage is going to be on notice.

Okay, thirdly, if you are into competitive biking or cycling or whatever you toolsheds prefer it to be called, then I am most certainly not interested in you. Lance Armstrong? Ha, I laugh at your tight pants and can’t believe that you are even able to be a womanizer. Mountain biking and casual city-biking is okay (I actually hate bicycles and haven’t been on one in about 10 years but I’m willing to make concessions), but if you’ve ever been one of those guys on the side of the road in the decorative spandex outfit, you can forget it.

Other. And this is a dealbreaker that can completely trump everything. If we are strangers and we’re talking and everything is fine and then you mention oral sex – in any way, even just telling me a seemingly innocuous story – I’m going to be polite but you’re basically dead to me. That is just not something you bring up in conversation with people you don’t know and in fact talking about it with men is probably going to ick most girls out. If it doesn’t, men you are either dealing with a real live megaslut or a total psycho who is later going to stalk you. Which if that’s what you want, then good.

Additionally, if we go out together and you don’t wash your hands after the bathroom, that’s disgusting. It’s even more disgusting if I call you out on it and you defend yourself for not washing your hands and try to give me some reason like that your penis is probably the cleanest thing you’ve touched all day. That’s a true story, and I almost threw up in my hands at the time, which I try to do only once a year, and hopefully only because of my own volition. But you can be damn sure that I wash my hands after and not try to claim that because it’s my own vomit and because it’s mostly acid anyway, my hands are now even cleaner!

Lastly, if you have a nut allergy, you’re a freak and I’m not going to stab you with an Epipen, nor am I going to go out with you ever because that’s just terrifying. Ever notice how these nut allergies only seemed to crop up in the last decade or two? Your parents probably did some completely fucked up drugs in the 70s and 80s and passed it onto you in your genes. Also, I’m not a baby-sitter and did I mention that I am not going to stab you with an Epipen just because someone breathed on you after eating a Nutrageous?

Anyhoo, I’ll be sauntering – prancing, even? – around at the HHH tonight, and I like free things so even though I am completely intimidating, please come buy me a drink and then we can talk shit about everyone.


This was forwarded to me by a reader:

I never quite figured out why the sexual urge of men and women differ so much. And I never have figured out the whole Venus and Mars thing. I have never figured out why men think with their head and women with their heart.

One evening last week, my girlfriend and I were getting into bed. Well, the passion starts to heat up, and she eventually says “I don’t feel like it, I just want you to hold me.”

I said “WHAT??!! What was that?!”

So she says the words that every boyfriend on the planet dreads to hear… “You’re just not in touch with my emotional needs as a woman enough for me to satisfy your physical needs as a man.” She responded to my puzzled look by saying, “Can’t you just love me for who I am and not what I do for you in the bedroom?”

Realizing that nothing was going to happen that night, I went to sleep.

The very next day I opted to take the day off of work to spend time with her. We went out to a nice lunch and then went shopping at a big, big unnamed department store. I walked around with her while she tried on several different very expensive outfits. She couldn’t decide which one to take so I told her we’d just buy them all. She wanted new shoes to compliment her new clothes, so I said lets get a pair for each outfit. We went onto the jewelry department where she picked out a pair of diamond earrings. Let me tell you…she was so excited. She must have thought I was one wave short of a shipwreck. I started to think she was testing me because she asked for a tennis bracelet when she doesn’t even know how to play tennis. I think I threw her for a loop when I said, “That’s fine, honey.”

She was almost nearing sexual satisfaction from all of the excitement. Smiling with excited anticipation she finally said, “I think this is all dear, let’s go to the cashier.”

I could hardly contain myself when I blurted out, “No honey, I don’t feel like it.”

Her face just went completely blank as her jaw dropped with a baffled WHAT?”

I then said “Honey! I just want you to HOLD this stuff for a while. You’re just not in touch with my financial needs as a man enough for me to satisfy your shopping needs as a woman.” And just when she had this look like she was going to kill me, I added, “Why can’t you just love me for who I am and not for the things I buy you?”

Apparently I’m not having sex tonight either… but at least that bitch knows I’m smarter than her!

Stories like this make me full warm and fuzzy inside. Whether it’s true or not, I applaud the men out there who refuse to take shit from a woman.

Maybe I’m delusional, but I think the tide is turning against feminism and Sex and the City spinster behavior. Now if we can just get women to learn how to cook again. “Honey, I’m tired, let’s go out to eat with your money.” :boring:


One of the most funnest things in the world is having crushes. Work crushes, friend crushes, unknown-person crushes – all are equally exhilarating and can provide endless hours of self-entertainment. It’s a sad time of year when I have not even a single crush. That said, I now have a new work crush – good luck trying to guess who it is, suckas – and let me tell you it is an incomparable high. Especially because I’ve met his girlfriend, and she is so ugly and plain, just the kind of person I would shake my head sadly at if I saw her out somewhere.

Having crushes in school was easy. You could plan your arrival/lunch/departure schedule to coincide with the object of crushdom, you could ask your friends to spy on him for you, and if you were particularly brave you could send them one of those pink “secret admirer” hearts on Valentine’s Day. Once you started driving, you could do psycho-runs by their house or soccer practice. Ahem, not that I would ever do any of these, I just heard about it from a friend.

In college, having crushes got even more fun because you could finagle an invite to a crush’s party or join the same student group. Additionally there was the added possibility of hooking up with the crush, or, in rare instances, actually dating the crush.

Being an adult makes crushing more and less difficult. It’s more difficult because now you’re facing the possibility that your crush is in a serious long-term relationship, or even married. There are those of us who might say “wives are not walls” but for the most part a significant other is an insurmountable obstacle. What with smaller social circles and less opportunity for non-work interaction, it’s unlikely that you can predict where your crush might be (and you can’t just keep showing up at his/her favorite bar… this might be rom-com behavior but it usually gets you hit with a restraining order in real life… again, not that I would know). On the other hand, having developed your google-searching skills, you might be able to dig up more information on an adult crush than on a younger crush.

Some of the saddest lessons I’ve had to learn came about as a result of crushes. For me, having a crush is usually completely pointless as it has never happened that a crush-object has reciprocated my undercover ardor. Also, I’ve had only one person ever admit to having a crush on me, which turned out badly, teaching me that you should probably never keep pressing people to tell you things like that (and that you will probably never ever guess who has a crush on you, because most people will never do anything about it).

Although, last Christmas, I experienced something akin to meeting Baby Jesus himself when a crush I’ve had since SIXTH GRADE and I got a hotel room together. Which is why, unproductive as they might be, I will never stop having crushes.


A primer for the ladies.

I can tell you why you are not meeting men and why you will eventually spend approximately 5% of your entire life span bitching about how you can’t seem to meet men and asking where to meet them.

Somewhere along the line, women got retarded. It’s like a college education and more opportunities in the workplace made us all stupider in the natural laws of attraction. What I’m going to tell you is solid gold, and if you disagree, then you’re an idiot, and will probably die alone.

1. First of all, why are you turning down social invitations? I hear this all the time from women. “I’m too tired” or “I have to go let my dog out” or “I really have to wash clothes” … really? All of these things are more important than potentially meeting an attractive, eligible man? If you get invited to do something, even if it sounds lame, GO. You’re not going to meet men sitting on your couch in your PJs watching a “Project Runway” marathon. If you live out of town, find friends who live in the District who will let you crash on their couch if you go out at night… and learn the art of walk-of-shame shopping. As a codicil, if you are double- or triple-booked, try to go to everything, if even for only 10 minutes.

2. Always be prepared. You never know when you’ll go to the coffee shop and meet your future husband waiting on your tall mocha. That’s why you can’t afford to be cavalier about your appearance or the number of business cards in your wallet (or having a pen and paper handy).

3. When did “being comfortable” become more important than “being pretty”? Guess what: it’s a cold hard truth, but men think your flat, orthopedic-looking shoes are UGLY. You don’t have to dress like a model every day, and you don’t have to have a lot of money to look good. But you can think about what a man might like to see on a woman. It’s not a plain top, flip-flops, and jeans that make your butt look chubby. Learn how to walk in high heels, and make some friends who won’t lie to you about your clothing. Additionally, buy a push-up bra or two. You know that saying, “men are visual creatures”? It’s a saying because it’s true. A little flash, a little pizzazz are your best weapons. Just don’t lay the make-up on with a trowel.

4. Stop being a bitch. You know why no guys are hitting on you at the restaurant/bar? Because you’re sitting there with a frown on your face, trying to look cool. If you are lucky enough to be approached by a man who would probably love nothing more than to buy you a drink, be polite. And, make lots of eye contact.

4a. Quit trying to act like you are the hottest shit on the planet, because you’re not. It’s all well and good to tell yourself that a couple of times a day as a pick-me-up (I’m certainly guilty), but don’t take that attitude outside of your head. Some women affect boredom because they think it makes them seem sophisticated, but it just makes them look borING. Why not look like you are having fun?

5. Think about where the kind of men you would like to meet would be present. Every dating advice columnist out there tells you to go to cooking classes and that kind of bullheimer, but there’s no guarantees there. Suggestions:

-alumni groups for your college (you’ll have at least one thing in common)
-briefings, panel discussions, etc. on the Hill (men who are reasonably intelligent, have decent jobs, and will totally hit on you if you look hot)
-book readings and concerts (if you go by yourself, it’s less intimidating to men than approaching a tight cluster of girls)

6. Develop yourself. Read a book or two, go to a museum, go to a movie, take a trip. You know how you reject men because they don’t have anything interesting to say? I know it’s hard to believe, but men will reject you for the same reason.

7. It might be in female nature to take everything personally and to look for hidden meanings in what people say, but try avoid this. Example: if a man you’ve met exactly once before says, “you look different” upon meeting you the second time, don’t immediately assume that because you weren’t wearing makeup the first time, you looked ugly and that because you are wearing makeup now, that you look pretty, and that this man actually thinks you are ugly, and now you hate him, and he’s not that good-looking anyway, and who does he think he is, and why does he think he’s so superior, and he’s probably lying about all that tail he’s pulling anyway. Do you know why men say that women are psycho bitches? Because women think like that. And then they say it out loud. And believe it.

I’m not claiming to be an expert. But, I do meet a lot of men – the kind of men that most women would like to date. And, I feel like that makes me at least somewhat qualified to assess what you’re doing wrong. So buck up. Because you think you’re ready to meet the man of your dreams… but how hard are you trying?


This is classic. As are the follow-up comments.

It’s true that I come from a place where interracial relationships are definitely not the norm. There’s a lot of, “she married a Mexican???” kinds of attitudes. The lack of interracial dating in my hometown means that I tend to notice pairs of different colors more than most people might.

The most frequent pairing I’ve noticed in DC and surrounding areas – and I live in a VERY mixed neighborhood – is white male/Asian [note: when I say “Asian” I mean east/southeast Asia] female. One day while I was walking around in Georgetown, it was like WMAFPD (White Male Asian Female Pride Day).

When I first moved here, I tried to figure out what it is about Asian women that turns men on so much. After all, there’s a lot of noise about European and Latin women, but you don’t hear many men talking about how they only want to date Asians from now on. I’ve never heard a man say, “I want Asians because they are such good cooks” or “Asians are small and cute and not greedy fatties” or “Asians dress better than whities”. So, what’s the appeal?

My theory is, it’s the exotic. Why would you notice an Asian girl more than, say, a blonde girl? Think about it. If you only had the choice of hamburgers (brunette white girls) or hot dogs (blonde white girls) or the occasional steak (redheads), you’d be pretty excited and intrigued when someone offered you General Tso’s chicken. Asians are different, not just in looks but also the entire history of their civilization. Say what you want about how Latin America is different, it’s still America.

Anyway, I don’t begrudge the Asian ladies their white men. The only thing that bothers me is that Asian men have a bad rap for their small size, and those bitches got the long end of that stick. Pun intended.