Gold diggers

Yves and I have been talking for some time about starting a blog called, "You are entitled to OUR opinion" where we just rant. Although, I should be studying for the bar, I do want to do a quick rant before I forget.

I think it's hilarious when guys my age (mid-20s) or even younger think that they need to watch out for gold diggers. Fool, no one is after a dude that is pulling in 50K minus student loans (if he is even employed in this economic climate). I had a guy friend in his early 20s tell me that he didn't want to pay for dates too often, because he didn't want to attract gold diggers.

Reality check. You are a 22 (23?) years old, still in college and work at restaurant on the weekends. No gold digger worth her silicone implants is going after that. Your $500 savings account and Grandma's government bonds are safe, sweetie.

Am I taking crazy pills? Are guys just flattering themselves? Alright, guys, you make decent money. You want to establish an equal partnership early on. You want to be fair. This is all pretty normal. You don't have to pay for every date. It's totally legit to accept when she offers to foot half the bill. It's okay to not invite a girl out again if she is not pulling her weight. It's 21st century dating. There's no need to frame your modern day sensibilities in this outdated trope, especially when you're still young and haven't developed your career. It's a joke to think that girls are after you for your money. Unless you are Mark Zuckerberg or sitting on a mighty big trust fund, you don't have to watch out for gold diggers. Trust.

dunzo

I wanted things to work out with J. because he seemed like a nice guy, but after that terrible kiss last week, I started feeling more and more repulsion towards him. By the time I saw him again on Friday (well at lot happened between Monday and Friday), I was done. I wasn't attracted to him. He said, "Kiss me," before the musical started and flashbacks of excessive tongue made me nauseous. I made it through the musical and didn't try to make an excuse to go home. We went to my friend's apartment party afterward. I invited him earlier during the week, and I wasn't annoyed enough at this point to call it a night. I could tell he was trying really hard to be everyone's friend at the party and if I had liked him, it would have been endearing. Since I didn't, it was embarrassing.

I swung open the door to a fairly small party. About ten to fifteen people were in Shawn's living room, most of whom I didn't know. J. walked in and proceeded to introduce himself to everyone in the room. He tried to tell people I don't drink, in this matter-of-fact way, as if he's known me for years. Also, he made an inappropriate comment when I told Melissa about this terrible asylum case that I read about in the course of working on my own asylum case (brother while driving drunk got into a car accident that killed his sister, brother is now being deported because he committed manslaughter and is violating his conditional visa, family loses both children). J. chimed in, "It's like Jerry Springer. An Asian Jerry Springer."
I turned towards him, "No it's not."

He took me home around midnight. I thanked him for the date and he asked if he was invited in. I said I was tired. I told myself I would send a thanks for everything, but I don't see this going any further text. I haven't, because I suck at this. I think he got the message though when I didn't call or text him back after that date.

I feel relieved that it's done, but mostly I feel guilt. I let it go on a lot longer than it should have because I enjoyed the dates. I should have known after that terrible kiss that it just wasn't going to happen. I should have trusted my intuition. I dreaded the musical date, but I made myself go anyway, really hoping that it wouldn't be so bad.

And maybe it would have gone further if P. hadn't reappeared in my life. P. was the #2 kiss in my previous entry. I know he doesn't read this, so I thought it was a strange coincidence that right after I wrote the entry he texted me. We saw each other again on Wednesday and I remembered that I could have a pretty boy. I could have kisses that spark that dizzy feeling in the back of my head. I'm twenty-three---why on earth am I settling now?

Back to the drawing board.

counterfeit love

A long time ago, as I was lamenting the lost relationship with H., my friend Christina said to me, "You realize that you don't need those grand gestures to know that someone loves you, right? You don't need someone to come rushing over with a milkshake at 3 AM just because you asked for it."

I repeated this bit of wisdom to Annie as we drove through Hollywood on a way to a friend's grad party. Sometimes, we get so caught up in the idea of being swept off our feet that we lose sight of the fact that love is much quieter than the man that yells it from the rooftops. I thought back to the last time I saw H. We visited his grandmother in the hospital. He wanted to stay with her until visiting hours were up. I watched him lean in to talk to her and touch her face. He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek when he left. On our last vacation together, we went to the Polynesian Cultural Center. He occasionally handed me a bottle of water to make sure I was well-hydrated throughout the day.

I never really understood why some people wanted small weddings or skip out on Valentine's Day altogether. As I grow older though, I see how that can be counterfeit love. Following the rituals doesn't mean that it's love or that it'll last. That kind of showboating love distracts you. You count the expensive gifts as tokens of affections and forget how he treats you from day to day. Maybe he's a kind man, but you see the other bf who took his gf to Fiji or something and forget the 364 other day of the year that he remembers to do all the things you forget. Or maybe he's a terrible cad, but that LV bag makes you forget those shady text messages from his legion of "platonic" female friends. You wilfully turn a blind eye as long as your expenses are taken care of. And like all material things, you're always looking for an upgrade.

I write this mostly for myself, because I want that tall, handsome, captain of industry to come calling although the most fulfilling relationship I've had was with a kind man who taught me how be patient. I met someone that makes me laugh and that I really like, but in the back of my head I'm still waiting for that counterfeit lover.