The stages of living in LA

Stage one - I'm never fucking moving to Los Angeles

I'm going to move to the east coast like a baller.  I'm going to live in a ridiculously overpriced city in a 380 square foot apartment downtown.  I'm going to brag about the public transportation system.  I'm going to wear preppy clothes.  I'm going to date investment bankers.  I am a fucking badass.

Stage two - I have to fucking move to Los Angeles

The assholes from work have transferred me out here.  What the fuck am I going to do?  I'm going to hibernate in my apartment and stare at pictures of my old east coast life and cry.  I'm just going to take a vow of silence until the higher ups have the decency to move me back.

Stage three - First margarita on the beach

Wow, this isn't half bad.  The ocean is gorgeous.  I like day drinking.  There are hot surfers everywhere.  I like relaxing

Stage four - Ridiculous house party in Los Angeles

Holy shit I'm in a smoking shack with 12 year olds.  My friends are playing croquet in the front lawn.  People are wearing beer cases for hats.  I'm so fucking stoned out of my mind.  Look!  It's Rachel Leigh Cook, she's talking to you.  You are becoming her best friend.  YOU ARE AWESOME

Stage five - I'm never fucking leaving Los Angeles

Never.  I would kill a man to stay.  This place is amazing.

Stage six - being forced to leave for family events or work

Everywhere else in the world fucking sucks.  I feel sorry for these people.  Winter is for douche bags.

Stage seven - I love LA so much I'm going to fucking buy a convertible

Even though my car is paid off and I can really use the cash.  Even though I only have a fifteen minute commute and rarely leave my LA bubble.  I NEED THAT MOTHERFUCKING CONVERTIBLE.

Stage eight - I am now that creepy old lecherous cougar

Damn.  Those 25 year old surfer boys still look hot.

John Mayer would totally be our friend

Clearly you know who John Mayer is.  You may think he sucks.  You may like some of his music.  You may want to put a stake in his chest for crushing poor Jennifer Aniston's heart.  

Meh.  I'm one of those non 13 year old girls who really likes him and his music.  Flaws and all.  I first saw him in college on campus way back when only people on college campuses knew who he was.  He's since then become a very famous young man.  

I think it's interesting to track an artist for a long time and see how they've grown musically and emotionally (which may be one in the same?).  I'd like to think that if John Mayer was a fan of mine since I was about 18 that he'd see me now and decide that I had become a great young woman.  

Sure, he would have read about all of my stupid mistakes in the tabloids.  Then all of his friends would harass him for saying they're not sure why he was still "into me" despite tons of evidence that I had sold out and was a bitch.  (She took a CORPORATE AMERICA JOB, John.  Why are you still following her?)  I'd like to think that he'd stick up for me even when it was no longer cool to be a fan of mine.  

Alas, he's famous and I'm not.  We both live in the same city but the likelihood that we'll ever meet is slim.  But John Mayer, if you're out there trolling my blog.  At another time and place when you didn't become uber famous and you were still a geeky Berklee grad we totally would have been friends.

He may be a douchebag

Time to time we ladies find ourselves within eye sight of a very tall, good looking man.  You may or may not be half a wine bottle deep into the evening and that look in his eyes and that swagger are enough to convince you he's someone worthy of making out with on top of your stair case.

Then upon facebook friending and further research you get that awful sneaking feeling that he may in fact be a complete douchebag.  I am all to guilty of this phenomenon but readers please learn from my mistakes.



A short list of douchebag warning signs:

Popped collar - I recently fell victim to this and a PINK popped collar nonetheless.  He turned out to be a hedge fund manager who was SURPRISE only interested in himself and his wealth.  His baby face and tallness and ability to go get me a glass of wine in a crowd momentarily clouded my judgment.

V-neck -You would think the wife beater would be the ultimate signal of a dbag, but in Southern California it's practically a uniform.  You get some slack for wearing it since it tends to be hot and sunny out here and I guess it lets you breathe?  The v-neck is like a classier wife beater.  Men wear it to show off their tanned and seemingly ripped chests.  You might as well wear a sign that says I WORK OUT.

Inability to drink without bending the straw to the side - because he's too cool to sip a straw and needs to show his male dominance over that tiny piece of plastic.  Fist pump!

Dropping the "I'm a consultant/lawyer/investment banker/surgeon/bartender at the Viceroy" card - women who are only interested in dating certain professions are not the classiest of ladies.  If you want substance, I'd highly suggest actually snagging a girl with your winning personality and not your paycheck.

The "I don't leave the west side of LA" guy - There is life east of the 405.  I swear.

Overuse of the word bro - 'nuf said.

Posting videos of you feeding a cat your beer bong on facebook Ew. You're just shy of 30. Please grow up.

Only posting shirtless photos - I'm going to tell you right now that sadly no woman will love you as much as you love yourself.

Please let me know what I am missing from this list.  I have a sneaking suspicion that I will continually update as the year goes on because lord knows LA is full of douchebags.

Sad but true

SLUT

We all begrudgingly know that there is a massive double standard when it comes to sex and women.  But we are also a generation that grew up watching Sex and the City (which I started watching when I was 16).  So given that we know we can have a good time (supply and demand is in our favor) but also that we will be harshly judged for doing so ... how much of a good thing is too much?

If you are like me, you have a sexual appetite, confidence and a bevy of horny men just outside your door step.

What is a girl to do?

So I get that too many sexual partners can lead to bad things like incurable sexually transmitted diseases and a frequent buyer card for Plan B.  And perhaps an unhealthy attitude about men's purpose on planet earth (you mean they exist for some other reason than to have sex with us?).

How do you know when you've crossed the line from in control to out of control?  Is it by number of partners?  Is it by frequency?  Is it the length of time that you've been single?

Maybe if you're blogging that you think you might be a slut is the sign that you are in fact a slut!

Yesterday I heard myself saying "I'm only going to sleep with one person in August" ... so that may be a sign that I'm a slut.

But the weird things is I go in waves.  I had been sexless for 13 months up until June.  And then like a starving man at a buffet, I've gone a little overboard.

And I'm not religious but surely there are punishments from hooking yourself up to an IV of sexual pleasures.  I guess we will have to wait and see what those punishments are.

To my 20 year old self

With the copious amount of free time that I've found myself with I decided to rewatch one of my favorite movies.

The last time I saw this movie I was a junior in college, in love and completely knew beyond a shadow of a doubt who I was going to marry.  We went to see the movie on or around Valentine's day.  I was happy.

Midway through my rewatch today I wondered how much separated me from the girl who watched it the first time.  It's like 8 years later I am abundant in all the things I lacked back then.  And back then I had all of the things I lack right now in my life.

We had the kind of love that people literally dream of their entire lives.  The all consuming, obsessive, passionate, fairy tale kind of love.  But after the break up I went on to really live my life.  I moved all around the country, started a great career, met my friendship soul mates, dated good and bad men and somewhere along the way became a woman.  The kind of woman who he would probably be happy to see that I've become despite our tragic end.

So I watched the movie, in a different time in my life and reflected.

Part of me wondered today if he ever watches the dvd of that movie and realizes that for a brief second in time, we were both perfect.  And that at that time neither of us knew that it would eventually end.

Good Advice I Need to Hear