24 Hour Champagne Diet

Dream date involves bottomless mimosas.

Happy Sunday everyone! I wish it were more acceptable to order mimosas on a date outside the confines of brunch or brunching hours.

Champagne Dreams.

10 Reasons It Would Rule to Date a Unicorn

I consider that a mess.

Mingle2.com wants you to think they're fresh and vibrant. They're totally hip and cool making jokes about unicorns. I'll admit I was moderately amused by their marketing ploy 10 Reasons It Would Rule to Date a Unicorn.

Texting Meltdown

Talk With Your Hands. 

Since the age of ten, beginning with AOL's Instant Messenger (take note kids, aim stands for something), I have honed the craft of online chatting. Additionally, let’s recount the countless hours in chat rooms asking strangers their a/s/l never really concerned or phased by the potential of talking to a sex predator.

AOL had me well poised when texting rolled out. I still remember my first text. It was from a boy and it literally blew my mind. I stared at my Nokia phone with my bumble bee colored plate with pure amazement. How did my crush get little letters to show up on my phone. Magic!

Why is this relevant? Because most dating websites, if not all, have their own instant messaging systems. Which is a totally different ball game than email messages. Bring on the OKCupid chats. We'll name this subject Frank. Frank, sent me a message and we were off to the races. Witty banter. Playful flirtation. Sassy quips. We talked about a range of bull shit topics seeing if the other could keep pace. We had so much fun we exchanged numbers right away. We transitioned to texting seamlessly. After a mere week of this we decided to meet for a drink.

I prepped myself beforehand. Could I keep up the persona when we met?

Turns out Frank, couldn't. Did I care? No. I was determined to live up to my texting/chatting persona. Damned if he couldn't.

To be fair to Frank I gave him the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps he didn't give himself the pep talk he needed post work exhaustion. Frank did talk though. He talked a lot in fact. We mostly talked about him. And I was fine with that. He mostly had interesting things to say. Just wasn’t witty, playful nor sassy.

Things really took a turn when it came to paying the bill. The bartender quickly took his card and before I could chime in to offer to split he closed us out. We had racked up a $45 bill. I had $5 cash with me. I offered it as partial tip money. He took it.

Frank starred at the bill for a good minute. That minute felt like eternity.

After paying the bill he excused himself to the restroom. I frantically looked around to see if there was an ATM. His body language put me into a tizzy. No ATM. I told myself to relax and we resumed the date. The fact that we talked for another half an hour lead me to believe that I was being silly to think he was upset about the bill.

That night on the way home I texted him thank you and the next round was on me. I felt some pressure relieved by sending that. Although, I've circulated this story in the last week since the incident and everyone has reminded me the guy knows the score when it comes to paying the bill.

He didn’t respond until 3pm the next day. Note: if you consistently respond to text messages immediately you have set a bar. It was clear to me something was amiss.

The response, “No prob. You’re welcome for drinks. I accept pay pal though.” Was that witty, playful or sassy? I crafted what I think to be the perfect response, please feel free to tell me what you would’ve said. I playfully said, “Pay pal, that’s a first.”

Frank never replied. Communication meltdown.

Smiles and smells

I finally get the obsessive nature of cologne ads.

I have a headache from his cologne. I was so enamored with the smell. With every breath I took I soaked in the manly yet sweet scent. So much so I gave myself a headache.

I'll willingly start carrying Advil with me. Fingers crossed this one calls again.

#smitten

Incomplete Message!

Did he merely get distracted?

Something urgent has come up. I’ve been messaging with a seemingly cool guy on OKCupid. We’re ready to schedule a meet up. In my last message I let him know my availability.

He responded with what seems to be an incomplete message. It is two lines in response to our banter about nonsense. The second sentence did not have any punctuation. And he did not address his availability. Note: His grammar and punctuation has been supherb.

I thought a message would come soon after apologizing for the misstep and have the complete message. Three and a half hours later and nothing.

My question to you: Should I say something? “Hey man, so like, are we hanging out or what? I think you hit send too early. Whoops! Hah hah” ????

UPDATE: He sent a follow up message. Yet, did not address the flighty message. For the sake of being a crazy woman because I feel like it, should I consider this a red flag? Pass.


We're scheduled to meet Wednesday. Location TBD. 

Watch the Throne

Chirp. Chirp. Are you there? I’m giving this another go. After too many months not worth mentioning I’m inspired to revive this blog. And by revive I mean give it the attention it deserves. So let’s get to it.

I started a new job and moved. In between the new job and the move I had a horrendous cold post Coachella. It turned into walking pneumonia. My health insurance didn't kick in immediately. I avoided the doctor until I was covered and was sick for about six weeks. Needless to say I was not baggin’ in that time.

I’m now settled. I no longer feel I’m going to be fired (well not as frequently). I got my swagger back! With four dates or so under my belt I’m itching to tell the world about them.

I feel this good: 

Up next: Passive aggressive texts, the wonders of OKCupid, and why you should plan your next date at the Largo.


xoxo,

Lily

Coachella!

Gonna lose my shit.

We're less than a month away from Coachella. When the UPS guy showed up with my blessed wristband on Friday I snatched it up immediately from my doorstep. It's safely tucked away and I will have a panic attack as the event nears because I'm sure I'll forget when I've put it. I am a little crazy.

I'm curious to find out if I have what it takes to bag at this event. NOT smoosh. I plan on having a solid buzz for three days straight and a music high. The energy will bring out my fierce flirting... fingers crossed.

Lets revisit this gem from last year: Wasted Guy at Coachella Can't Put On His Flip Flop. So not baggable.

Rain. Not cute.

Fierce boots will make the rain better, Momma says.

As I was driving the 405 South bound and embracing the usual slow traffic from the Getty to LAX (essentially the entire West side), which is now intensified by the rain that is falling in ways we haven't seen since El Nino (I may be exaggerating) I couldn't help but wonder-- how many first dates are put on hold by the rain?

How do people deal with this type of weather?

California you have me spoiled. I don't know how to take care of myself. You've ripped the rug of sunshine from under me.

Frizzy hair. Bad traffic. The dread of walking out the door and facing the cold dampness. As a native Southern Californian I just can't comprehend and process. I am not equipped on how to handle variable/unfavorable weather while dating.

I'm in a baggin dry spell.

I blame the rain.

Help Japan.

Rob Dobi print. Purchase.

My day job involves following politics and understanding how people engage in their community. This blog serves as a silly outlet from my daily grind.

However, I can't seem to ignore current events-- it would be a disservice to my passion for social justice and humanitarianism. There is a overwhelming list of injustice in the news but I'll focus on the non-man-made tragedy that is happening in Japan. A topic where baggin can have some impact and do some good.

marpop's article Go Out, Have Fun, Help Japan provides a list of LA restaurants who are donating to relief efforts in Japan this weekend. I dislike the article, in that I think the title is a bit flippant. Perhaps I'm just too stodgy. No matter what you think of the title there is some good insight on where you should be taking dates and where to belly up to the bar in attempts to bag.

LA Weekly also provides some fundraisers to check out, half of which have passed. I'm a bit behind.

Not sure how to help? Splurge on a dinner out at one of the participating restaurants. This weekend I will cheers to my health, my friends & family, and the knowledge that I am one fortunate lady.

Rudolf & the Black Prince(s)

If your product doesn't have at least 5% benzoyl peroxide I'm not interested.

This week I developed a white head on my nose. When I went to pop it (save your judgement) I came face to face with my ever present black heads. There was an army of them and I was hardly equipped for battle.

I should never come so close to a mirror. An overwhelming sense of self consciousness came over me. A pure hatred for my skin.

I'm listening to Rod Stewart, sipping wine and wondering why my nose feels like its sun burnt. I popped the zit two days ago and its still red.

Zits you have overstayed your welcome in my pores. I cut you off when I was 18. You're still lingering.

This weekend calls for a face mask and a yoga session to bring back my swagger.

The Date That Wasn't

Can we agree that the Cheers bar is ridiculously large?

L'Chaim! 

About a year ago I became involved with a Jewish social group, Moishe House. This group of 20-somethings with the occasional 30-something was a great way to meet people out of my social network and get my Jewish men fix. If you visit a Moishe House don’t go with the intent of finding your future spouse because you will be let down—as are most situations with high expectations. I always attended with an open mind and no intentions of finding my soul mate. I no longer attend events but I walked away with a new girlfriend, some good stories, delicious Shabbat dinners consumed and some good flirt sessions (take advantage of the practice when you can!).

From ew to baggable.
At an event last month I met this fella who upon first sight seemed like a total dweeb. Straight up dweeb. Frankly, I shuddered with disdain when he walked up to my circle to join the banter. If I was a sexually repressed football player of Glee I would’ve slurpeed him to the face.

OK so in Glee we learn Dweebs are actually cool. Rachel finally dates Quinn. The kid in the wheelchair gets to bone the cheerleader. And my Dweeb as it turns out is funny as fuck and could hold his own. One point for the Dweebs. Begin Lady GaGa “Born This Way” mashed with Spice Girls “Wannabe.”

I was so impressed by his ability to keep up with my sassiness I asked for his number. And yes, there was so an awkward tension caused by the people around us staring. Can’t people exchange numbers without people giving an oogling look?! It’s not like we’re boning on the spot and exchanging vows. Interest is merely piqued. 

Let me show you my town. 
This bagged gentleman dude was new to town and I live in a great area worthy of showing off. After we parted Moishe I suggested I show him around and that I would be in touch.

Although I asked for his number he called me first later that week. A man who can call a girl is a rare find. The confidence and ease of the effort was truly refreshing. Nice one Dweeb.

I suggested meeting at a great little Cuban restaurant.

Flirty texting ensued leading up to the date.

I had my A game on and was ready to enjoy the evening.

Me, “Hi! Great to see you!”

Him, “Hi! Yea, so I invited Rachel.”

LOOK OF SHOCK ON MY FACE. 

Me, “Well you better tell the host because I told him a table for two.”

He knew what he had done was so not kosher. I was not threatened by this girl. I did not have enough invested in this dude to really care the outcome. I had met her before and he told me she was like sister.

Who brings their sister on a date?!

We enjoyed our evening and I put on a good face but the whole time thought WHAT THE FUCK.

I’m on a quest to bag. We’re counting this as a bag just a bag gone wrong.

Cheers! Where everyone knows your name.
Victory was mine when after dinner we went to a local watering hole. The stars were aligned when I spotted three guys I knew at the bar. This isn’t a regular occurrence for me to run into people and I definitely didn’t plan it in advance.

My friends gave me a warm welcome with hugs and showered me with attention. Did I mention they’re pretty good looking?

Dude was visibly uncomfortable. I was reveling in the moment.

A bit tipsy I went to the bathroom and texted one of my girlfriends the cliff cliff notes while giggling in the stall.

I walked back from the bathroom BEAMING with confidence.

It became clear to me I was no longer interested in Dude. And for all I cared he could go fuck himself. Alcohol will do that.


I know who I want to take me home.
We left the bar and the sister/friend went home (for the record she is nice and I felt bad she got dragged into it). Dude and I spend some time talking afterwards and I did enjoy the conversation. But the killer was my body language did not read flirtation or interest whatsoever. I was engaged in conversation and I was enjoyable but body language gives so much insight to what a person thinks in terms of potential romance.

From the instant he said “I invited Rachel” my body language turned from date flirtation to friend casual time. Friend casual time? I hope that explains itself.

He drove me home and his parting words were, “Next time, it’ll be just the two of us.”

I never heard from him again.

photo: vintagestills.com

Too Real

For a night of goin out on the town I like to blast a little Robyn. But this jam makes me never want to bag. Robyn punching me in the face with some truth with a delicious beat.

Robyn- Tell Your Girlfriend [listen up]

Hey, I got a coupon.

To my Angelenos, who has seen the flamenco show at El Cid? I am dying to know because it sounds pretty awesome and that's a fucking bargain. FOUR COURSE DINNER?! I've been to the El Cid for some hipster dancing but never knew it was a proper venue for dinner and a show. This makes me ooze with joy.

And when is it OK to bust out a coupon on a date? If ever.

Flamenco Show & Four-Course Dinner

The Interview

Oh my God, I love your skirt! Where did you get it? 

My first week on Chemistry was a success. I had a handful of men who were mutually interested in me and a few I was willing to give a shot. This definitely boosted my confidence in my purchase and my awesome profile.

Because I joined during the holidays it was hard to meet up with people as I was going on vacation and people were spending time with family. Take note of the season and surrounding holidays when joining a dating site. Something I did not really take in to consideration. After about two weeks of quick messaging it was time to meet Jeff. OK I don’t remember his name… which is rather telling, but we’ll call him Jeff.

We met up for coffee one day after work. The location and time was my idea. Why did I pick meeting for coffee? There was some comedian on Comedy Central recently talking about what a horrible idea it is to go out to coffee when meeting someone for the first time and I have to admit it’s not the most ideal scenario. Unless of course you’re a coffee aficionado or truly love coffee. It was just something I had seen on TV and in those picture shows so many times it was ingrained in my head that that is what you do.

I picked a locally owned coffee shop because he’s from the Midwest and I assumed he would appreciate something local. I felt a Starbucks wouldn’t have quite the romantic quality. In any event, I arrive punctually and spot him ordering his beverage at the counter. I could only see the back of him but I was immediately turned off by his choice in pants, shoes, and jacket. I told myself to knock it off and waited for him to turn around.

“Hey, Jeff?”

I then stuck my hand out for a handshake. I think from there on it was downhill. Handshake? Is that a proper gesture for a first time meeting/date? I am not good with these things but I have a tendency to make the first move so as to get it over with. Like ripping off a Band-Aid but not really knowing if the wound is healed enough to warrant the Band-Aid coming off. Too soon. It wasn’t even a flirtatious handshake it was a firm lets do this handshake. As if we had engaged in some sort of game.

I order a latte. Why the fuck did I order a latte at 6pm at night? I am sensitive to the effects of caffeine and have no business ordering coffee past 3pm unless I have some shit to do. He ordered a small ice tea. We paid separately and it’s safe to say if you want to avoid the “who pays?” dance go get coffee. You can arrive a few minutes prior to meeting, order your bevie and let them take care of their own. One of the few positives to the coffee meet up.

We awkwardly shuffled between tables before settling on one near the front giving me perfect view of the entire shop. If I got bored I could at least look at everyone else enjoying their evening. 

Now begins the interview. A sleuth of questions trying to get to know each other. For the record, I was up beat, smiling and putting on a good face and seeming sincere. I asked a majority of the questions. Digging as deep as I could to find SOMETHING to relate to. You know what I finally landed on? A station wagon. He owned a station wagon. I want to own a station wagon (stop your judgment). That’s it?! Station wagons?! We both lit up when we could finally relate. But I know very little about station wagons other than I want to own one so the light didn’t flicker for very long.

How did I end up in this situation? For starters our messages on Chemistry were very brief and we kept things on the surface. We never found something all that relatable in our messaging that we could then bring to the table at the coffee shop. I never considered this a red flag as I have had great conversations upon meeting new people.

The second, he’s an engineer and I’m in creative. Our brains work very differently. He answered the questions and talked to detail about his interests. I would chime in with a few of my interests. The way we spoke about our respective lives just did not sync whatsoever. Even when talking about the same things. Say hiking for instance, but what he favored and what I favored in hiking were completely different.

After an hour of this I decided it was enough. Yea, an HOUR. Luckily I had previously informed him of my very strict workout schedule I maintain and had a go to response to leave. But then as we walked outside and I gave him a hug I kept saying over and over again “It was really great to finally meet you.” Since when to I turn into a compulsive liar? I was so uncomfortable with the goodbye and I didn’t have the heart to say, “This wasn’t all that enjoyable but you’re a nice guy. Have a good life and good luck finding someone.” What does one say?! I didn’t wish him any ill will and he really was a nice guy we just weren’t compatible at all. Not one ounce of compatibility. I even told him, “Give me a call or a text sometime if you’re free.” WORD VOMIT.

He never did call or text. The guy was probably just as miserable as I was but like me kept a good face for courtesy. I would kill to find out what he told his friends. My first words describing the date are, “He wore cargo pants.” Because my friends are hilarious bitches who get a kick out of the small details.

So upon reflection, maybe it wasn’t the coffee shop’s fault. It was our fault for not forging some sort of REAL conversation via email. 

Setting Up Shop

When I came to the conclusion I should/need to commit myself to baggin’ dates I immediately registered on Chemistry.com. It all happened so fast. A $100 commitment for three months.

This shit is real.

And yea, I thought membership was paid monthly. December was a tight month (I apologize for the delayed reporting).

Me, “So ummm can you cash my check after payday?”

Him, “I guess. I would prefer to cash now. What’s your situation?”

“I just made an impromptu investment.”

“On what?”

“Ummmm Chemistry.com. Heh heh. I’ll take you out for a drink to make up for it. Maybe even a date?”

MORTIFYING. But, the new me was able to turn it into a bagged date. And yea, I know it’s a sad state of affairs that I don’t have enough cushion for $100. Don’t tell Suze Orman, I can see her shouting to me “Denied! You can’t afford it!”

A couple years back I had dabbled in Match.com and JDate with little success. There are many factors to attribute to the fact I didn’t have a great experience. Lets stroll down memory lane...

1. I’m not Jewish.

This poses a problem when using JDate. This is the premier way to bag a date with a Jew on the internet. I’m always shocked when people have not heard of JDate. I had a friend snag a photo of their billboards in NYC. They mean business and are huge hits in metropolitan areas. I love the Jewish culture and have an attraction for their men so naturally I signed up. Shiksah Lily at your service.

On your profile there is an option to share your faith. I selected “Will tell you later.” Later would come and nothing horrific happened when I dropped the Gentile bomb but it also never lead to anything of substance. Over time I felt like I was encroaching on a space that I did not belong. For more on JDate I recommend this article from Jewlicious, JDate? Let Me Count the Ways. 

2. It’s a zoo out there.

I couldn’t quite put my finger on why I didn’t like Match. Then these words of genius were shared to me, “Match.com is like a zoo.” A ha! That’s it! Pages and pages of people! Weeding through guy after guy, deciding to wink or not to wink. Not to mention I can’t wink so the process of virtually winking felt ridiculous. What if I meet them and they think I can wink and then think I’m a total fraud?! WHAT IF?! Nerves were already running I didn’t need an additional stress. JDate is not as daunting at Match considering they have less volume and I was able to limit my search to Reform Jews. But they both have the similar format of browsing through what feel like endless profiles.

I attribute this setup to the reputation Match has developed as the smoosh site. To be fair this could just be in my circle of friends. I have not done a research study on this but I’ll go with it. So many people at your disposal fingertips it’s an easy game to get caught up in.

3. I was too young for online dating.

I was fresh out of college and had not fully come into my independent ladyself that I am today. I wasn’t a social invalid but going on blind dates was not something I had experience in. I was new to the professional world and figuring out how to live outside of the college life. I needed time to figure out me and build my own life before brining someone in.

I am more than half way into my three months with Chemistry and it’s going alright. Don’t worry details coming. I receive about ten matches a day. 90% of which I click “Not Interested” (again no formal research to support this). However, I am not overwhelmed and I meet my dates with confidence. OK there are still some nerves but I have much more to talk about and sound a lot more awesome than previously. 

So before setting up shop on the internet consider my previous mistakes. And I welcome the rebuttal to number two. Perhaps a regional issue? Maybe my friends attract sluts? Doubtful but worth a conversation.

And for the record, I will never join eHarmony. Lesbians and gays excluded? I say, “Oh hell NO!”  

Preface: Year of the Smoosh

Did you smoosh?
-JWOWW

The now infamous Jersey Shore cast fist pumped its “guido-isms”, bedazzled flashy/trashy style, and fake tans so deeply into our [Pop] Culture this year, that I figured there was no better way to begin my reflection on 2010 than with a Jersey Shore lexicon. I’m not ashamed to admit that I watch Jersey Shore, nor that I have a girl crush on JWOWW and would consider stalking Pauly D’s whole life.

Last year, thanks to our favorite guidos/guidettes, America learned what the “smoosh” was, and I personally have declared that I have reached my quota of “smooshing”. To put it simply, “smooshing” is the act of hooking up. In season two of Jersey Shore we learn smooshing or hooking up is vaguely defined and conveniently so.

Just as most of us throw around the term “hooking up” loosely, Angelina, the most detested slutbag of a roommate, explains that a “smoosh” can be interpreted anywhere from making out to having sex. This vague interpretation worked in her favor after smooshing when maybe she shouldn’t have been (i.e. sleeping around with her roommates/getting Snooki’s sloopy seconds when she has a boyfriend). When I tell my girlfriends and gay boyfriends that I “smooshed”, about twenty minutes later, without fail, I’ll need to go into some sort of detail of what the smoosh actually entailed. There is safety in the terms “smoosh” and “hook up” because depending on who the listening party is, if alcohol was involved, and how hot (or ugly) the other party was – we can leave certain details up to the imagination.

On that note and in the favor of taste - I’ll leave it up to your imagination how far each of my smooshes went and at what rate they occurred throughout the year. I would give you a conservative/liberal scale but inevitably each reader would define that differently. Lets just say no trips to Planned Parenthood were needed (although I am a full supporter of PP!) and I can count the men on two hands. Some would complain that that’s one hand too many, and others would say I need to liberate myself. Well, this is me and I’m throwing in the towel.

I’m not the first woman and I won’t be the last to have this sudden change of course. I blame my astrological sign and the incessant viewing of the Little Mermaid as a child for my yearning desire to find my Prince charming. Each time a boy would look my way in class, talk to me during flip cup or make out with me in the bar I was convinced he was going to call me the next day, we would flirt text for a week, he would then ask me out and, he would fall madly for my charm, my mermaid tail would grow to legs, and we would live happily ever after. Wait, what? By the end of college I chilled out and realized that was flawed, if not clinically insane, thinking. In turn, I started hooking up without any expectations and it was damn fun. And now at the ripe age of 2[x] I have become bored by meaningless smooshes and acknowledge my need for partnership. I remind myself that like smooshing a date does not guarantee partnership. However, I am convinced baggin dates is a much more secure strategy.

For one year I commit myself to no hooking up, no smooshing. (Unless JWOWW calls)

On New Years Eve in a drunken text exchange I told my dear friend “365 days of not smooshing lily gon be cranky” which prompted her to say “not until commitment??” (The “C” word if you will) Commitment also being somewhat of a loose term I realized. Where will the line be drawn? When can I let the smoosh out of the gate? I need to determine when hooking up/smooshing is no longer considered just hooking up/smooshing. Hopped up on rice krispie treats and bourbon, my immediate yet clouded reaction was “limit is second base!” But that didn’t quite make sense. Do I really need to define the level of commitment associated with each base in the fast paced game of hooking up? I don’t think that’s easy to define at this time, but I can put some broad guidelines out for now. No sex until I can say “Hi nice to meet you. Did you meet my boyfriend, Mr. Charming?” As the blog progresses so will my conclusions on this matter. Stay tuned.

I have no grand scheme for the blog other than to learn more about myself as an independent 20-something on the dating scene. I’m a novice player and intend to share my humilities throughout the process. I hope to make you laugh and provide you with at least one tip for your potential year-of-dating-playbook. I look forward to sharing this year with you.