He asked me out and said it’d be the best night of my life.
“Are you dating any other people besides me?” He asked, on our first date.
“Yeah, you know, I’m getting out there,” I said.
“Are you having sex with them?”
“No,” I assured him, thinking he’d be delighted.
“None of them?!” He was aghast.
“You’re not even giving them hand jobs!?” He exploded.
“Well, you know, I’m just sort of in the getting to know them phase.” I explained.
“Soooo…These guys are spending their hard-earned money on you and you’re not even giving them a hand jobs?!” He was practically shouting. “You don’t think that’s just a little cunty?”
I laughed but he wasn’t laughing.
“What? Does the word cunt make you uncomfortable?! People like you fascinate me. How could you give a word such power?! It’s a little, tiny word. You’re what’s wrong with America!”
He seemed to take it deeply personally that I wasn’t out hand-jobbing it up on every corner.
“You’re so guarded!” he concluded.
On our second date, he told me his dad was verbally abusive and would make everyone uncomfortable so he felt completely at ease in uncomfortable situations. He sort of took pride in it. He told me about the time that he insulted a girl so badly she started crying on a night out with mutual friends. He said this unapologetically, just as if he was telling me he had played hockey in high school. He also told me all about the girl who’d broken his heart when she cheated on him and that being around pretty girls actually made him feel like he was being punched in his stomach.
“So that’s what all this is about,” I thought, “He thinks I’m pretty!”
One after the other, the dark secrets tumbled out of his mouth like crippled little acrobats from the Darkness Olympics.
Truth be told, if hanging around and being called a cunt could fix what had been broken by his angry dad, the girl who’d cheated on him, and the pretty girls punching his stomach with their beauty, I probably would’ve kept doing it. But I guess being called a cunt can really only sustain a relationship for so long.
Around this time he started sending me mixed signals by getting a girlfriend. “Two can play that game!” I thought, and I got to know his girlfriend as well. (She was pretty terrific.) I hope he found all the hand jobs he was looking for… and to this day, I still never ever have sex on the first date unless I am raped.
When a guy calls you a cunt and/ or cunty on a first date do you:
a) Tell him that no amount of hand jobs will fill his pain hole.
b) Tell him that the only hand job he’ll be getting that night is from himself.
c) Focus on the fact that he’s wearing a suit and have another vodka.
d) Go out with him again and try not to be such a cunt this time.
Spending the weekend in beautiful Ojai reminded me how grateful I am that the pioneers discovered California. It’s mind blowing when you think of it. They could’ve easily stopped at Kansas after months of only seeing flat land and unbearable humidity. They could’ve decided that the rest of the country would just be more of the same. They could’ve stopped at the Colorado mountains, as their associates dropped off right and left from random plagues and canteen contamination, and everyone surely would’ve understood. But no, they forged onward. They had an instinct that something amazing was ahead and they were right.
They were about to be rewarded by finding California with its perfect weather, soothing oceans, and delicious taco stands. How did they know to keep on? It’s astounding. They must’ve been guided by voices, a calling, just like all of us who are heading toward a dream. So when it seems impossible and your friends are dying, when your musket has lost its luster and your knickers are soiled, when your covered wagon has a broken wheel and smells like syphilis, just remember: keep going. On the other side of your seemingly endless Kansas is your California.
If the royals really are “just like us” and the royal wedding is like some weddings that I’ve been to, then Kate Middleton will have a gaggle of jealous, cunty, and fighting bridesmaids who, despite their best attempts to contain their nastiness, will ooze thinly veiled tantrums, passive aggressive insults and self-serving gossip. The best man will get so drunk and high that he will mutter incoherently and vomit on himself and his inappropriately dressed, underage girlfriend. The bride and groom will tiptoe around the impossible task of concealing the various affairs, secrets, and mental illnesses on both sides of the family while the molesty uncle has his way with a caterer in the royal broom closet.
Best wishes for a beautiful wedding & a successful marriage, Kate & William!!— From all of us here at Marriage Material blog (me.)
Is that albacore in your pocket or are you just happy sashimi?
Ok, so last night I went to this place Mako for sushi and it was off the motherfucking chain. If you don’t believe me, just read all of the awesome reviews on Yelp which I personally always find to be very yelpful: http://www.yelp.com/biz/mako-sushi-los-angeles
So it’s located on the 3rd floor of a random mall on the edge of Little Tokyo. It’s a small, economical space that’s super cute inside and feels like you’ve been transported to Japan. I’ve been to Japan twice, once to Tokyo on tour with my ex boyfriend’s band (currently known as Velvet Revolver) and once to Okinawa on tour to perform my comedy stylings for the US troops. So I’m not fucking around when I say this place feels like you’re in motherfucking Japan.
The staff is AMAZING, so contagiously excited to welcome you into their wonderful establishment. The sushi chef is pure joy and so much fun. We told him our basic food restrictions up front and then just let him serve whatever he saw fit and everything was fresh and yummo, start to finish. We had seaweed salad, spinach with sesame oil, grilled scallops & mushrooms, and salmon, tuna, yellowtail, albacore and crab sashimi. Helpful pointer: To get the ultimate experience, buy the sushi chef a beer or two. My friend did it and it really helped our case.
I just wanted to let you know that this place is no nonsense, awesome sushi. Also, afterward you can take a leisurely stroll around Little Tokyo—a great way to walk off all of the weight you didn’t gain from eating pure protein and vegetables. Park your car below, they validate and it’s motherfucking free. Take your date there and odds are she’ll shit herself with enthusiasm, unless she’s one of these weirdos who has a sensitive stomach when it comes to raw fish. (I’m talking about you, Jeremy Piven.) You’re welcome.
A dating site is a terrific way to meet new people outside of your usual realm of friends, hobos, and men who can only stare at their shoes in your presence. I know like five couples who met online and went on to seal the deal with a bona fide marriage and subsequent divorce, so what are you waiting for?! Some of these sites are completely free so you can meet someone new for the same price as two free tacos and a free porno.
You gotta play to win so put your chips on cyberspace and create a profile! I think the key here is don’t overthink it. Less is more. You don’t want to waste all your valuable information nuggets on someone until you’ve deemed them “not insane” so just give a taste, a nibble, an appeteazer, if you will, and save the juicy motherload for the date (if said date warrants it.) Just think of yourself as Banksy—(http://www.banksy.co.uk/)— an international mystery, a shadow of a glimmer of what someone might get if they were to land a relationship with you.
There’s really nothing to lose because if it doesn’t end up being a love connection there are many other wonderful outcomes such as making an awesome new friend or FBC (Future Business Contact.) And remember, what could be more fun than being single in spring? The world is your boyster!
I’m amazing, I’ve really enjoyed working with myself on this project!
Religions are like rappers; they all claim to be the best one and the more popular they are the more they get away with rape.
The role religion plays in my life:
I’m not really into organized religion but I can’t get enough of disorganized religion!
My personal motto or creed:
“When things are bad just remember they would definitely be worse if a Creed song was playing.”
Favorite item of clothing:
My mock turtleneck. Because the best way to wear a turtleneck is to fake it.
In my bedroom one will find…
A wardrobe that leads to Narnia.
What I like - or dislike - about what I do for a living:
I love the wrestling part but sometimes the mud gets old.
The six things I could never do without:
A dream-catcher. Dreams. The dreamer who dreams them. A porcelain frog with a top hat and cane.
—1 out of 3 dudes who took me to Stella on a first date ended up coming to Paris with me.
—Another 1 out of the same 3 dudes who took me to Stella on a first date ended up coming to Hawaii with me.
—100% of those trips were provided by my job doing stand up comedy.
Moral: A dude can buy you a nice fish and you eat for a night but if you learn how to buy your own fish while doing what you love, you can go anywhere in the world and eat fish with the dude of your choice for a lifetime.
Marriage Material (my essay that was published in Smith.)
I never knew how badly I wanted to get married until I changed my Facebook status to engaged. Did you know that all you have to do to be validated by the entire world is just get engaged? Suddenly people think you’re worthwhile because you’re “marriage material.”
People have been writing the nicest comments!
"He’s a lucky guy, you’re so smart and cool.”
One guy private messaged me to say he’s always wanted to hook up with me and now wonders if it’s too late!
It’s more attention than I’ve gotten in all of my miserable life. It’s exhilarating and fantastic. There’s only one problem: I’m not engaged. Don’t even have a boyfriend, haven’t had a date in months.
Here’s how it happened: I just innocently changed my status to “engaged” one night on a wine whim, thinking it was no big deal, thinking it was the equivalent to “in an open relationship” or “swinger.” The reason I thought it was no bigz is because the night before I had changed my status to “single” which elicited no response whatsoever, nary a thumbs up.
So I change it to engaged, forget all about it and fall asleep. In the morning, I have 45 comments and 50 thumbs ups: everyone thinks I’m engaged. Now I don’t know what to do. If I tell them I lied on my status, that makes me a jerk. My friend suggested I create a fake profile for my fake fiancé linking him back to me via Facebook’s handy “engaged to Melinda Hill” feature. Maintaining something like that might qualify a person as insane.
Maybe I could marry one of my exes, they weren’t so bad. Millions of people marry all kinds of hot messes every day. Maybe I could just suck it up like they did in the 50’s before we got all these wacky ideas about deserving happiness. Unexpected death is completely plausible…
“The reason you haven’t met my fiancé is because he recently passed away.” Too morbid?
Suddenly becoming engaged has become an urgent priority.
Everywhere I go people are congratulating me. My close friends know the truth about the situation but with acquaintances, find it’s just easier to tell them what they want to hear than to deal with their disappointment.
“I heard you’re engaged! Who’s the guy? How did he propose?”
“Well, he rented out a silent movie theater and then came on screen as the actor and proposed to me! Then the lights came up and there he was with a beautiful diamond (it’s being cleaned right now; you know how antiques are). And I was like, “What? Yes!”
Then he goes, “I have another surprise for you outside!” and I’m like, “What?” So we walk outside and he has this hot air balloon waiting and we jump in it and drift over the city sipping French wine….” (This little tidbit has the exact sort of over the top wow factor I’ve come to expect from my fake fiancé.)
What I’ve noticed is that when a girl announces her engagement on Facebook, it’s celebrated like the beginning of an era while a guy’s engagement is treated like the end of an era. These are the kinds of congratulatory comments guys give other guys:
“I give it a year.”
“I wash my hands of this.”
“Who’s the ball and chain?”
"Another one bites the dust!"
“Strip club bus tour!”
The way they approach the wedding is so different it’s like they’re planning two different events as well.
Girls will say things like, “This year’s all about the wedding,” while for guys it seems to be about cramming their penises into as many last minute holes as they can before they have to settle on one person’s hole(s) for the rest of their lives.
All of this has helped me to decide that I’m going to go ahead and go through with the actual wedding. I’ll let you know who the guy is as soon as I meet him. For now I’m just going to take that first baby step and change my status back to single. I don’t know how people will react but I do know that five out ten fake engagements end up in divorce.
Isn’t it comforting to know that the only dirtbag truly responsible for your unhappiness is you? Think about all the stuff you didn’t get from your ex or current love/ lust/ inappropriate work fling and make a list of those things. Now understand that this list that you’re so up in arms about is actually a list of stuff that you’re not giving yourself. The people and situations in our lives only mirror how we treat ourselves, according to like every spiritual book ever written.
Your list might look like this:
-She never thanks me.
-He farts too much.
-When we go out she insists on wearing devil horns.
Now make a list of all the ways you’re doing that to yourself.
You might start by asking, “How am I farting on my own life today?”
“How am I wearing devil horns and making everyone uncomfortable since it’s not Halloween?”
Now make a list of the opposite of those grievances and commit to practicing said opposites until desired effect is achieved. For instance, the opposite of “she never thanks me” is gratitude. How can you express gratitude toward yourself and others today?
Let’s say for example that my ex didn’t give me consistent career validation. What an amazing opportunity for me to look at any instances where I’m not validating myself. Where am I ignoring my successes and treating them like they’re meaningless? How can I better acknowledge them?
Here are some things that might work:
-Validate and appreciate other people’s work; enjoy it and let them know that I did.
-Appreciate compliments that come my way, try to really take them in.
-Practice feeling good about my work just because I did it, regardless of the outcome.
The greatest gift I can give myself on any day is to just want what I have and to feel that it’s good enough despite its imperfections, independent of outside validation.
My dear friend, the amazing and hilarious Maria Bamford, (www.mariabamford.com) has two pugs. She told me that when her pug Burt has a biscuit in his mouth he’s happy until he sees the other pug Blossom’s biscuit, at which point Burt drops his own biscuit and suddenly wants Blossom’s biscuit. He automatically assumes that Blossom’s biscuit is better than his own and forgets the enjoyment he was previously getting from his own biscuit, abandoning it immediately.
This is how it is when I think that someone else has it better than me in any way or that I need outside validation of my biscuit in order to enjoy it. I immediately lose interest in what I have and want to cash it in for something that will make me feel as good as the other person’s biscuit looks. Now, we all know that Blossom’s biscuit is no better than Burt’s but there’s no talking to Burt when he has a one biscuit mind.
One way to talk myself out of wanting Blossom’s biscuit is to remind myself of how grateful I truly am to have my own biscuit. This is where we have an advantage over Burt and blossom; we’re capable of making gratitude lists.
Sample gratitude list:
-I have a biscuit.
-I have teeth to chew it.
-It tastes good and gives my fur a nice sheen.
-I look cute when I’m chewing it and it seems to make Maria happy.
-I can breathe and eat at the same time despite having a flat face.
Today’s affirmation: I am enjoying my imperfect biscuit no matter what.
There’s no way you can move on when all the sordid details of a break up are still floating around in your brain. So get it on the page and let it go. Have you tried this? It’s awesome. This is the letter you’re never going to send. Write everything you hated, loved, miss about the situation, everything you wish it could’ve been, all the stuff you wanted to say but couldn’t, etc. The point of this letter is just to get everything out, free flow. Don’t get tripped up on “doing it right” or even spelling it right. You can spell check it later if need be but you may choose not to since you’re the only person who’ll ever see it. You’ll feel lighter and better, I promise.
I really thought we had a connection but then I realized that you are a robot. It’s hard to snuggle with a robot. Your metal encasing is so cold. You remind me of Edward Scissorhands in a lonely castle on a hill cutting anyone who tries to get close to you. I gave you my heart and you pulverized it like it was a beet for your vegetable smoothie. Additionally, I really miss kissing you, our walks, our talks and our travels and I’m so grateful for all that we learned and shared together. I especially want to thank you for inspiring my blog, which makes me so happy to write each day.
You’re Ridiculous, Don’t Contact Me
There is no right way to write this letter. Grief has four stages and comes in all shapes and sizes. So just let it flow. One sentence may be very complimentary while the next may be the worst insult you can think of. Such is the kaleidoscope of human emotions. Just get the poison out and move on without judging it or you, sister-lady or man-fellow!
When you’re done go out and do 10 things that make you feel amazing.
Here are some things I did and loved:
—Took a hike at Griffith Observatory.
—Went to Detox Day Spa in Silverlake for an awesome facial/ massage combo with Asia & Julia (sounds like Wendy & Lisa from Prince but was not like that at all.)
—Signed on to go to a weekend retreat with my pals (@ardenmyrin, @kateflan & more) in Ojai. (Ojai-five!)
—Had a clothing swap with some really groovy ladies (@janiehaddad, @mariathayer, @aliontheair, @aimeemann, @carolinewphoto) & cleaned out and de-cluttered my whole house and got a few new items worth writing home about.
—Went on some dates and wore said new items.
—Made a vision board of my ideal relationship and posted the “ideal qualities” list smack-dab in the center of it for reference.
—Watched videos of Tom Waits & Mitch Hedberg performances.
—Made a plan to shoot a web series with Drew Droege (@glittergarbage.)
Your list might look like this:
—Swim with dolphins.
—Swim with whales.
—Swim with sharks.
—Go bungee jumping in the Outback.
—Zip line from your background to your neighbor’s.
—Take up karate and horse wrestling.
—Plant a garden while on hallucinogens.
—Build a boat from scratch.
—Change your name.
—Join the witness relocation program.
Let me know how it works out for you. Seriously, I love your comments. They make my day! Xox, Melinda
Ok so let’s get back to your (my) break up. Are you still thinking about it? Well don’t! Do not google, do not Facebook, do not stand outside his window with a candle. “Out of sight, out of mind” is a saying because it works. Wish him well and put all thoughts, memories, obsessive triggers, remnants and revelations that it’s too late to have into a sealed envelope in outer space. When the thoughts do come up DO NOT INDULGE THEM; just let them drift on by out to sea on to the Titanic right into the Bermuda Triangle. Do it in a well-meaning but detached way that says “women and children first.”
You have a life to live— Sister Christian, oh the time has come! Think of it this way: you will meet your guy soon. I’m talking about the real deal, the one who you will probably marry and end up spanning the rest of time with. So think of this period, now, not as a morbid defeat but as your last hurrah. Otherwise you may be stuck in a marriage thinking, “I wish I would’ve had fun but I was trying to get over a break up.” If you’re like me you never even had your wild phase, you were too busy trying to do everything right or have a career or you got married too young so you just had to live vicariously through the escapades of your slutty Cuban friend aptly nicknamed “Infidel Castro.”
So this is the time to do all the awesome stuff you never did as long as you can avoid contracting syphilis. What could be better than being single in the springtime? The world is your boyster!
You can begin by lining up five “get back out theres.” This just means go on some dates, any dates. He doesn’t have to be Mr. Right or even Mr. Tonight but if he’s a human being and he’s interested in you, you can sure as shit spend an hour eating a fish across from him.
These are some of the things you may encounter on get-back-out-theres (GBOTs):
—Gentleman who is perfectly nice and normal who you have no chemistry with or who you think is amazeballz enough to become bf/ new friend material.
—Gentleman who has lost 88% of his hearing from riding Harleys and working as a drummer resulting in you saying everything twice before ultimately yelling it.
—-Fellow who rants angrily about his ex wife and then asks you why you’re so “mysterious and withholding.”
—Gentleman who finds out who your ex is and spends the whole dinner espousing his greatness and prying you for information on said ex’s “artistic process.”
—Gentleman who tells you that he finds blowjobs to be “very accepting.”
—Gentleman who says, “I’m such an achiever that I don’t even choke the chicken in the morning; I just wake up and fuck life.”
These are some of the reactions you may have during or after your GBOTs:
—You may miss your ex more than you did before.
—You may experience an emotional hangover that’s worse than the breakup itself.
—You may wonder if connection with other humans is actually possible or just an urban myth.
—You may feel fantastic, like you should be starring in a show called “America’s Top Get Back Out There.”
—You may realize you have a drinking problem.
—You may feel all of the above.
The reaction is irrelevant. The fact that you did it at all is the accomplishment. You got back out there! You made a move toward living your life and focusing on all of the possibilities instead of dwelling on the loss. You discovered that someone was interested in you and that your ass still fits into that spandex American Apparel dress. You tried a new restaurant and you had a laugh even if it was forced and it felt more like you were choking away tears. And at the very least you didn’t choke on the chicken.
I start every morning with a wonderful routine of strong coffee, positive affirmations, and a morning after pill. And by morning after pill, I mean a medley of exercises designed to purge any neggo thoughts/ emotions from the night before so that I might start the day anew, unfettered and untethered.
These feel-good activities vary, depending on the shame quotient attached to the preceding night’s events. Today’s exercises were passed on to me by the amazing meditation teacher and hilarious comedian/ writer (triple-threat with no regrets) Laura House (please see www.laurahouse.com.) I am excited to share them with you because they really helped a friend of mine (me) through a hard time (my current break up) and seeing my friend (me) get to the other side of this tremendous hardship (it’s still happening) has been extremely inspiring (remains to be seen.)
So let’s begin: Make two lists. One is your list of “deal breakers” and one is your list of “ideal boyfriend (insert your preferred gender/ species here) qualities.” After writing said lists, compare the two and it should be very clear to you whether this guy/ gal/ alien is really for you or not. How many ideal qualities/ deal breakers did she/ he have? There is nothing like clarity to clear up the fog of oxytocin and codependence that has turned you into a sad face emoticon.
This is very helpful because if you can see that someone was not and never could be what you needed in a partner without a complete psychic overhaul, then you’ll be able to rationally move on and the emotional moveon.org will soon follow. It might also show you that maybe this WAS the ideal person for you and now you can act accordingly. I urge you to be honest with yourself because honesty is liberating and also so much more attractive than being a self-deluded dildo.
MY IDEAL MATE:
- Has two ears
- Loves corn
-Is from a state that specializes in growing corn.
- Is named Husk
-Is an avid listener of Husker Du
-Wears a do-rag
-He refuses to meet my family, claiming that they smell like wet cat food.
-He is part wolf.
-He refuses to drive and his main mode of transport is a hang glider.
-When he kisses me I feel like I’m being suffocated because he is literally strangling me.
-Every night he briefly dies during sleep apnea attacks and upon returning to consciousness has no memory of who I am.
Remember, the sooner you let go of that ill-fitting relationship the sooner you make room for the one that will fit right. Just think of it as a pair of jeans that are too big and frumpy and make your ass look like it has chunky baby arms. (Actually that analogy won’t work because you can alter frumpy jeans but not frumpy men or any men.) So instead, just think of that ill-fitting relationship like it’s a diaphragm that’s too big and have the courage to throw it out (of the car window while driving on the freeway) and then switch to the morning after pill.