Texts from Douchebags: Los Angeles edition

by Daphne Reese

After all my talk about using Vonage to make boys call instead of text, have I given up texting entirely? Hardly. And since I’m still texting boys, I’m still getting a lot of texts from douchebags. And so today begins a new recurring series at Stilettos: Texts from Douchebags! Today we have quite the text conversation for you, courtesy of Matt-Steve.

Matt-Steve is a native Bostonian-turned-LA-transplant whom I met while he was home over the holidays. I’m pretty sure he originally introduced himself as Matt, but then it turned out his name was Steve, hence the double moniker. People in LA are known for being superficial, but Matt-Steve really takes it to the next level. He claimed to be in the “music industry,” which I’m sure helps him bang lots of bimbos in LA desperate to get their bands discovered. But he is clearly out of practice when it comes to courting respectable Boston women.

I met him at a bar, yes, but then he proceeded to ask me out twice—both times for late-night drinks where he was already hammered and obviously angling for a booty call. Tired of his antics, I bailed out early on the second night, gathered up my girlfriends and said we were going home. In truth, we just walked down the block to the next bar.

Dec. 24, 1:17am
Matt-Steve: Not sure how the wheels fell off but I continually love hanging out with you.

Meanwhile, at Bar #2, I had already met a new guy and was shamelessly making out with him. Right about then Matt-Steve, looking for a change of scenery, comes walking into the bar and discovers me mid-makeout session with Guy #2.

Dec. 24, 1:58am
Matt-Steve: Lose my number

Daphne: Will do. Just bc I’m feeling generous, an explanation: you remind me of my ex-boyfriend. Also, you would have done better inviting me out to dinner instead of out for drinks twice in a row. That is all.

Matt-Steve: I’m sorry you are just being you and I saw it and this is me telling you I’m disappointed. Very. Also, I live in LA where girls in Boston that are “hot” are very average. So, physically, that wasn’t the draw.

Wow, so I’m not “LA hot?” Ouch. I wasn’t even going to respond, but then my friends convinced me we should have some fun with Matt-Steve. So, we decided to see how outrageously shallow we could get before Matt-Steve realized we were joking (apparently, it took him a while!). All “Daphne” texts from this point on are 100% bullshit just to mess with him.

Dec. 24, 3:51am
Daphne: I’m disappointed that you are disappointed (very) in me, it’s truly worse than you being mad at me for making out with that other guy, but he had nice jeans. Also, I consider myself in a range of 7.5 to 9 (Chicago Ranking) and I think of you as like an 8, so I thought we matched up quite well. BTW is your name Matt or Steve?

Matt-Steve: I don’t do “number” rankings and make out with people because of their jeans. I’m an adult. Physically I found you attractive but it was more chemistry because “looks” only go so far and unfortunately I believe this may be as far as we go for now because I leave Tuesday.

Dec. 24, 11:21am
Matt-Steve: Haha just read through all these texts. How do you come up with a “Chicago” number ranking and is that weighed differently than Boston?

Daphne: Listen, Frank, after being called “average” I felt the need to give you my most recent “Hot or Not” (national) score. (It’s an 8.7, nbd) And speaking of chemistry, slight correction from last text: he had nice “genes” not “jeans” (autocorrect). Do you have a Hot or Not score? Seriously is your name Matt or Steve?

Matt-Steve: (evidently googled “Hot or Not” and discovered the website for the first time): Holy shit, there is a website that you submitted a picture to be judged by a score? This is unreal, learning so much, who needs dinner.

Daphne: So you don’t have a Hot or Not profile?

Matt-Steve: Never heard of it. Send me your profile I have to check it out. You thinking I’m an 8 and the women accosting me after you left is all the validation I need.

(Because I do not actually have a Hot or Not profile, I send him nothing).

Dec. 24, 10:48pm
Matt-Steve: No way you are a real blonde.

(Trying to insult me, I suppose. Is questioning one’s blondeness the ultimate insult in LA?)

Daphne: And no way you are a real ginger.

Matt-Steve: Gingers are red heads. I’m dirty blonde.

(This is hilarious because Matt-Steve is obviously in denial. His hair is red, his face is freckled, and he is a textbook ginger).

Since Matt-Steve clearly is not getting that this is all a joke, I decide to clue him in.

Dec. 24, 11:20pm
Daphne: Obviously I’m hilarious and 100% messing with you. Maybe you would have found that out sooner if you had showed some interest in getting to know me rather than grinding my ass. I think you’d best return to LA where girls might be stupid enough to go for your “take me home” line.

Matt-Steve: It’s obvious we’re both messing around. Hilarious is an overstatement but you are kind of funny and personable. I’m not in the market for anything deeper than a little fun, so you should actually respect the fact that I didn’t pretend to be interested in more. You should have seen my moves after you left.

Daphne: Yeah yeah, and all the girls were hitting on you, coincidentally just as soon as we left. Well, this has been fun. I am going to refer back to the original “lose my #” text and do just that.

Matt-Steve: You’re mean

Daphne: You’re median

Matt-Steve: So I’m average as well 🙂

Matt-Steve just doesn’t want to let this go. He texts again the following day.

Dec. 25, 1:37pm
Matt-Steve: Merry Christmas Scrooge McHighmaintanence

Daphne: Thanks! You too, Nightmare Before Christmas.

Dec. 25, 5:56pm
Matt-Steve: Too bad hot or not doesn’t have a personality ranking. You’d move up a few points. Had I known you could keep up with the humor I would have willingly hung out with you sober.

I’ve stopped responding in the hope that Matt-Steve will go away. But the next day, another text comes in.

Dec. 26, 8:23pm
Matt-Steve: I’m leaving tomorrow, do you want me to lose your number or text you next time around? I forgive you for making out with that mongoloid human after me.

Daphne: Wait, I thought I was supposed to lose your number. I’m confused.

Matt-Steve: Initially I was disappointed because I tend to put women on an unachievable pedestal and while I don’t have confidence that you wouldn’t leave me in a second to go make out with another dude… You are interesting enough to keep in the rotation. I’m sure it was because you felt disrespected with my antics of not getting your number or asking you on a date.

Yes, Matt-Steve, that’s partly it. Also, you’re a complete douchebag.

At this point, you might expect Matt-Steve to stop texting. But clearly I have gotten under his skin somehow. Probably he’s not used to dating intelligent women who will stand up to him and call him out on his BS.

Dec. 30, 11:45pm

Matt-Steve: I tell women that are rude in Boston that I see hotter girls working at Trader Joes out here. It’s part of my charm. You have a better personality than most girls at Trader Joes. That work?

Daphne: Ha. I’m never quite sure if you’re joking, or the most shallow man on earth. I guess that’s just part of your charm.

Matt-Steve: Says the girl who couldn’t remember my name… I’ll keep you on your toes but I keep it real. I’ve thrown compliments your way and “pumped your tires”

Jan 5, 11:46am
Matt-Steve: 80 and sunny again. There’s a reason women out here have the personality of a grapefruit.

Is the dating scene in LA truly this awful? I decided to ask Chopstick’s opinion, since he moved to LA last year from Boston.

Daphne: Are people in LA really as superficial and stupid as the stereotype makes them out to be?

Chopstick: Oh yes. Yes they are are. Disappointingly so. Matt-Steve does strike me as a native. On average, the cute girl in Boston on the subway in a hoodie ends up being a Harvard law student or something who has her shit ridiculously together. On average, the stunner in LA ends up trying to impress you with the last Victoria’s Secret event she went to, so she can disguise her dead-end cocktail waitress career and thinly veiled upbringing issues.

Yikes! As hopeless as the Boston dating scene sometimes seems to be, at least we can all be thankful we’re not in LA.

January 11, 2012. Tags: , , , . Texts from Douchebags. 2 comments.

No, I would not like to see a photo of your dick

by Daphne Reese

Men are visual creatures.  I get that.  But why do so many of them hold on to the mistaken notion that women want to see pictures of their dicks?

You hear about it all the time on the news. Brett Favre, Pete Wentz, and other celebrities have all been embarrassed by public scandals that erupted after they sexted photos of their junk, uninvited, to incredulous women who undoubtedly laughed hysterically while showing the photos to their girlfriends, just before calling up the tabloids to start a bidding war.

I think this is a classic example of the male fallacy that women think like men do when it comes to sex.  Most guys would probably be stoked (or stroked!) if a girl sent them some nude photos of herself.  Therefore, they reason, she must be equally psyched to receive a photo of his dong!  (Wrong!)

Don’t get us wrong, boys, we girls do love dick. But let’s face it, the organ is pretty ugly. Particularly if you were not fortunate enough to be circumcised as a baby. Seeing a picture of your cock does not turn us on so much as it causes us to double over in fits of laughter while showing it to as many girlfriends as possible.

Recently, at a tech conference that was admittedly full of geeky guys lacking any social skills, a guy who had been flirting with me for maybe 10 minutes suddenly started bragging about his large penis.  “Would you like to see a photo?” he asked.  Hardly believing him, I said sure.  He immediately whipped out a cell phone and showed me a self-taken photo of his scary-big, horribly veiny, uncircumcised member, hard in his hand.  He was obviously very proud.  “Do you like it?” he asked.  (That is, indeed, the real photo posted here, although I have blurred it out to make it somewhat less disturbing).

Naturally, once I told the girls this story, they insisted on seeing the photo for themselves.  So, I sent the guy a flirty email: “Hey, could I see that sexy photo of your dick again?”  He was more than happy to oblige.  I realize I probably did him, as well as any future women he meets, a great disservice by pretending to actually like the photo, but what else could I say?  “Hey, will you send me that photo of your dick so my friends and I can laugh at it and I can post it on my dating blog?”  Which is exactly what happened.

May 25, 2011. Tags: , . Uncategorized. Leave a comment.

Shopping for condoms

by Daphne Reese

I don’t know who invented these new Trojan “Extended Pleasure” condoms, but it definitely wasn’t a woman.  “Climax Control Lubricant?” “Male Genital Desensitizer?” It must have been conceived by a man with some sick, masochistic fantasy of having his dick go numb during sex.

If you’ve recently gone prophyllactics shopping, the first thing you’ll notice is the incredible variety of condoms on sale today.  When did they invent all these new kinds? Ribbed, ultra ribbed, flavors and colors, Fire & Ice, Ecstacy, latex, non-latex.  And then there are the Magnums, which definitely there are large men who need them, but let’s be honest, I’ll bet every man in America has bought these at least once just to see how they fit, when most of them had no business even trying.

So, you’re in the condom aisle, overwhelmed by the choices that confront you.  In my experience as a woman, all condoms are pretty much the same, as far as I can tell.  I always just go for the plain ol’ Lubricated Trojans.  But, I’m willing to concede that the condom choice probably makes a lot more difference to the guy, so I tend to leave that up to them.  Chopstick, for example, is partial to Durex Elites. Aaron tends to switch up his selection and the other night, unfortunately for us, he absentmindedly picked up a box of the sexual torture device known as Extended Pleasure condoms.  Upon reading the box, I was instantly dismayed.  Designed to prevent premature ejaculation?

I know being too quick a draw is a real problem for a few guys, and I’ve seen it firsthand a time or two, such as when one guy in high school actually came while rolling on the condom.  (I laughed but felt bad, since he was so embarrassed).  But in general, I don’t think this is a real problem for most people.  I have almost never been annoyed that a guy came too fast.  More often, it’s like “Okay, dude, time to wrap it up.”

I think this is a big point of miscommunication between men and women.  We want longer foreplay, and a long-enough-but-not-too-long penetration session (like 5-20 minutes-ish).  Men, apparently, think we want them to bang away like jackhammers for 45 minutes to an hour and are buying numbing-agent condoms to help themselves do so. (Where’s the numbing agent for all the sore vaginas out there?)

Since coming too soon has never been a problem for Aaron, I was wary of trying out the new condoms.  How long could this possibly go on?  As it turned out, however, the experience was much worse for Aaron.  At first, he said the condom felt like a normal condom, but after a few minutes, the numbing agent started to kick in, and he pulled out in horror and ripped off the condom. “It feels like my penis fell asleep,” he explained. “It scared me.” We threw the rest of the box away.

So, readers be warned! Stay away from the numbing condoms. And guys, for the sake of women everywhere, will you please stop being so concerned about winning the marathon sex Olympics?

May 6, 2011. Tags: , , , , . Uncategorized. Leave a comment.

Pretend Period

by Daphne Reese

For any guys reading this blog, I’m about to blow the lid off a well-kept female secret—the pretend period.  It’s always the perfect excuse to easily avoid any unwanted intimate situations.  Just tell the guy you’re having your period, and voila, he instantly backs off.  It’s not like he’s going to check.

In the rare case where you run into an eager beaver who tells you he doesn’t care about the blood, you can always feign disgust.  “Ew, really?” and make it clear to him that it ain’t happening tonight.  Or probably ever, to be honest.  Because once you reach the point where you’re so desperate to avoid the guy that you’re lying about your menstrual cycle, you know things are pretty much over.

The big limitation with the period excuse is timing: it’s a get-out-of-jail-free card that is valid only for a 5-day stretch once per month.  The guy will rightfully become suspicious if you feign your flow one week, only to have your period again (perhaps for real this time) the following week.  However, Parker has identified the perfect work-around to this limitation—birth control pills.  Simply tell the guy you messed up your pills, and now your cycle is all messed up.  Genius.

I don’t lie about my period often, as it’s usually easier just to tell the guy you’re not interested.  But sometimes that ace card comes in handy.  Earlier this month, I went on another date with the nice-but-lacks-fireworks guy called Sam Adams.  At the end of the date, his hands started to get overly friendly, and I pushed them away.  He was persistent.  “It’s a bad time of the month,” I lied.

Apparently Sam had been expecting this.  “I was wondering when you would get your period.  I figured it would be last week or this week,” he said.  Umm, really??   He’s tracking my menstrual cycle now?  “How long does it usually last?” Sam asked.

“Uh, like five days.”  I couldn’t believe we were having this conversation.

Sam did the math.  “Great, so if we go out on Friday next week, it will be over.”  Um, we’ll see about that, Sam.

Apparently women’s periods are a great point of concern among men.  There is even a popular iPhone app called PMSBuddy, designed to give men forewarning when their girlfriend’s period—and dreaded PMS symptoms—are due.  Conveniently the app also has the ability to locate the nearest flower shop.

Girls – have you ever had a pretend period?

Guys – do you try to track your girlfriend’s periods?  Would you actually use an iPhone app like PMSBuddy?

March 22, 2011. Tags: , , . Uncategorized. 2 comments.

“The Spark”: Do you have to feel it right away?

by Daphne Reese

Sometimes when you first meet someone, you feel an instant connection and a strong physical response to their very presence.  I absolutely believe in Love at First Sight, or more accurately, Lust at First Sight.  It’s only happened to me twice, but both times I realized almost instantly, within hours of meeting the guy, that he would be someone special in my life.  Truly falling in love with someone requires a lot more time to get to know someone, of course, as well as compatibility and precise timing.  However, that initial “spark” of the first meeting is very real, even if it fades over time.  But how important is it to feel the spark?  And if you don’t feel it right away, can it grow over time?

As a romantic at heart, I’m in love with the idea of The Spark.  There have been some men in my past that I initially overlooked and, over time, grew to be very fond of, but when I think of the Great Loves of my life, I almost invariably felt the spark immediately.  In one tragic case during my early twenties, I spent four years with a wonderful man, just waiting for the spark to come, but it never did.  However, despite my personal experiences, I don’t want to be too quick to dismiss any man just because of something as intangible as lack of spark.  In fact, research shows that a lot of women end up marrying men that they initially didn’t like very much, so don’t be afraid to give that guy a second chance.

I’ve been thinking a lot about this topic  because I recently started dating a sweet, romantic guy whom Teddy has dubbed “Sam Adams,” due to his uncanny resemblance to the man on the beer bottles and his penchant for wearing vests.   Unfortunately for Sam, I have yet to feel the spark.  But I have a great time hanging out with him, so I’ve been trying to give him a chance.  So far, we’ve been on five dates, and he is laying on the charm—wooing me with flowers, chocolates, fancy dinners, and even poetry—but sadly I’m starting to admit to myself that I’m just never going to fall in love with him, as much as I feel like I should.

So, what’s a girl to do?  Should I keep dating him, enjoy the chocolates and roses, and give him a little more time to grow on me?  Or is it hopeless and I should just let him go before he gets hurt?  Should I sleep with him (which I haven’t done yet), to see if that changes things?  Vote in the poll below!  Luckily, next week’s Coast-to-Coast Ex-Boyfriend Tour will get me out of town for a while and off the hook from making a decision right away, but I sense my grace period may be running out soon.

March 1, 2011. Tags: , , . Uncategorized. 5 comments.

A roll in the hay down memory lane

by Daphne Reese

First love.  What is it about some of those first few boys you fall for that is so powerful and lasting?  The feelings were so intense back then.  The flutter in your stomach when he looked at you and leaned in to kiss you for the first time.  The absolute gut-wrenching despair of your first broken heart.

It turns out there really is something to early love that sticks with you throughout your life.   It happens all the time: old lovers run into each other at a high school reunion and experience the same feelings they had felt years, even decades, earlier.

There’s a certain boy from my past that I’ve just never been able to forget—Aaron.  The moment I first saw him at a student council convention when I was 16, I immediately sensed something special.  For the next few years, we carried on a passionate affair that never had a chance to really develop, but always remained burning steady in the background.  Because of distance, we were only able to see each other once or twice a year, but it was incredibly intense each time, with powerful sexual chemistry.  In the end, we went off to different colleges in different states and just never met up again, although we kept in touch sporadically through the years by email, then MySpace, and later Facebook.  I haven’t seen him in eight years.

All of this leads up to my big announcement: next week begins Daphne’s Coast-to-Coast Ex-Boyfriend Tour!  First stop will be San Francisco, where I’ll be seeing John—the ex-boyfriend I left when I moved to Boston.  Then, I head to Colorado Springs, where I will see Aaron for the first time in nearly a decade and find out whether the magnetic attraction we felt back then is still there.

The tour was partly inspired by my friend Parker, who undertook her own international ex-boyfriend tour to Chile last year.  Her review was that although she had fun, she remembered why she had broken up with the former beaus in the first place.

I’m excited to embark on my own tour of Loves Past and see where it goes.  It’s romantic to think that Aaron and I might end up together after all this time apart, but then I also think: if I had the guy in high school, what the hell have I been doing for the last ten years?

February 25, 2011. Tags: , , , , . Uncategorized. Leave a comment.

The Higgs boson particle of love

by Daphne Reese

IClark Kent have a thing for nerdy guys.  Intelligence is the sexiest trait that a man can have.  Combine that with some Android developer skills, a white lab coat, or even just a pair of Clark Kent glasses, and I am hooked.  I’m sure I’m not alone here.  In fact, my friend Parker admitted it was not a coincidence that she got back together with an ex-boyfriend the day she saw him in his brand new Clark Kent glasses.

Last week I went on a first date with a guy who seems to be very smart. In the course of conversation, this guy somehow started talking about the Higgs boson particle, Higgs-boson particleand I was instantly enthralled.  Having never taken a physics class, I don’t quite grasp what the hell the Higgs boson is or exactly what significance it has to the theory of particle physics.  In fact, I believe the last time I heard mention of it was by my ex-boyfriend the chemical engineer.  And it was just as sexy when he described it.  I hate to be so easily impressed, but when a man starts dropping physics terms, it’s like conversational Spanish fly.

Is this a thing that guys do?  Memorize some spiel about a complex, brainy topic and use it to mesmerize unsuspecting, defenseless girls in their path?  (If so, well done, boys.  Well done.)

Sometimes it doesn’t even have to be a science term.  Parker recently confided that the moment she was finally seduced by this one guy was when he said one little magic word—“finite.”  While not strictly a genius-level word, in her defense, this man was absolutely gorgeous and in no way expected to be intelligent.  Knowing how to use big words like “finite” was just a nice add-on.

This weekend, while out at Alibi with the girls, I noticed a cute, tall guy wearing Clark Kent glasses.  Our eyes met, and he immediately walked over and introduced himself.  Within moments, we were making out.  In addition to the always-deadly Clark Kent frames, this guy had a whole list of dreamy nerd traits: he was a scientist, graduated from West Point, and writes novels in his spare time.  He was wearing a t-shirt with Chinese characters on it, causing my girlfriend to instantly dub him “Chopstick.”  When I asked Chopstick what his shirt meant, he replied that it said “dragon,” while casually mentioning the fact that he is, in fact, fluent in Mandarin.  I wouldn’t be surprised if he deliberately wears that shirt to the bars just so he can drop his Chinese language skills into conversation.  It’s no secret that girls love foreign language speakers, especially when it involves a sexy-sounding accent like French.  Mandarin may be less appreciated as a tool of seduction, but it definitely gets extra points for nerdiness.

Of course, intelligence, like beauty, is often in the eye of the beholder.  Other girls might be bored by talk of string theory, or worse, feel insulted or think that their date is trying to show off.  Have you ever been seduced by soft whisperings of E=mc2?  Share your story in the comments.

February 22, 2011. Tags: , , , , . Uncategorized. 3 comments.

Relationship Status on Facebook

by Daphne Reese

Today I broke up with my boyfriend on Facebook.  In real life, we broke up four months ago.  But, as everyone knows, Facebook makes things more complicated.

Since I was the one who Facebook breakupleft him, I thought I should leave the Facebook-dumping to him.  You know, mercifully leave him that small, quiet dignity.  I learned the importance of waiting for the Facebook breakup from my last boyfriend.  With Boyfriend #1, I jumped the gun on changing my status to “single.”  As soon as it was over, even that same day, I logged on to Facebook and gleefully announced to the world my new single status.  Boyfriend #1 was devastated.  Seriously.  It was heartbreaking enough to be dumped in real life, but to be so callously, unexpectedly, and publicly dumped on Facebook felt cruel.

This time around, I had learned my lesson and decided that Dumped Boyfriend #2 would get the satisfaction of cutting our tie on Facebook himself.  So I waited.  And waited.  Weeks passed.  Each time I logged on to the site, I would examine our profiles carefully.  Yes, to the public, we were still in a “relationship,” although in real life, of course, we had been over for months, didn’t speak much, and were moving on with our separate lives.

This became tricky once I began to see other guys.  Naturally, in this day and age, you have to expect that any guy you begin to date will immediately proceed to stalk you on Facebook.  Seeing that you are “in a relationship” tends to scare them away.  Or it scares away the good ones, at least.

But I still couldn’t bring myself to be so heartless as to breakup with my ex-boyfriend on Facebook.  At the very least, I figured, I had to give him some warning first.  But since we never spoke, the conversation never came up.  My short-term solution was to go into the labyrinthine Privacy settings and make it so that we were still in a relationship, but it would be invisible to everyone, except the ex-boyfriend, his family, and his friends.  I was a genius!

The problem with this approach is that, inevitably, you will forget to add someone to the short list who can see your relationship status, and then your ex-boyfriend’s brother casually mentions to him that “Hey, I see you and Daphne broke up on Facebook.”  At which point, the game is over.

I’m not sure that this happened.  Well, actually, it did happen, but in the other direction.  This weekend, well into the fourth month of the breakup, I did my weekly check-in of Ex-Boyfriend’s profile and saw that yes, we were still in a relationship.  Imagine my surprise, then, when I was speaking with my brother, who happened to mention, “I see John finally changed his relationship to single on Facebook.”  I was stunned.  Had it finally happened?  I immediately whipped out my iPhone to check.  Hmmm… No, it says here that we are still in a relationship.

Well, as it turns out, John had done the exact thing I did: left our relationship intact, but changed his privacy settings so that everyone (except me) would think he was single.  It’s completely absurd and hypocritical, I know, but I was outraged and betrayed.  How long had it been like that?  If my brother hadn’t told me, when would I have found out?

At this point, of course, our Facebook “relationship” had passed the point of absurdity.  I felt no remorse as I finally, officially changed my status to “single” and broke our Facebook tie once and forever.  However, no one would ever know it because I made it invisible in everyone’s news feed.  And as everyone who knows us in real life is perfectly aware, we broke up four months ago.

The point of all this is simple: never, ever agree to be in a relationship on Facebook.

February 22, 2011. Tags: , , , . Uncategorized. Leave a comment.

Stilettos on Cobblestone

One of the hallmarks of a Boston woman is the ability to deftly navigate cobblestone streets in heels. Not unlike the Boston dating scene, walking in stilettos on cobbHeels on Cobblestoneslestone requires grace, agility, and a sharp eye to avoid getting stuck in the cracks.

My name is Daphne Reese, and I’m a single, late-twenties professional living and dating in Boston. I started this dating blog in order to chronicle the hilarious, harrowing, and sometimes romantic escapades that my girlfriends and I encounter while searching for love. Names will be changed to protect the innocent and the not-so-innocent, but the tales are all true.

February 22, 2011. Tags: . Uncategorized. Leave a comment.