POSTED: September 3rd, 2010
COMMENTS: 6
I hate to break it to you, but dudes are shady. If you’re a heterosexual female looking for love, then you will run across (and hopefully over) a few of these plagues to the dating pool in your day, so proceed with caution. I’m not saying girls aren’t shady, because we totally are. But girls are shady like parasols and guys are shady like sassafras trees.
Sassafras trees provide more shade than parasols. Let “x” equal females, “y” equal males, “s” equal sassafras trees, and “p” equal parasols. If y = s and x = p and s > p, then guys are shadier than girls.
It’s basic math. If you have any complaints, you should probably take them up with whoever designed your middle school curriculum.
In any case, it doesn’t really matter who’s the shadiest shade who ever shaded unless that someone is your boyfriend. Sometimes it can be hard to tell, so let’s identify and deconstruct some shady behavior to figure out whether or not he’s sprouting leaves.
Shady behavior: He’s in a band.
Why it creates a questionable level of shade: The guitar probably isn’t the only thing he’s ever played. I’m just throwing it out there.
Shady behavior: He once told you “you’re not like other girls” like it was a compliment.
Why it creates a questionable level of shade: So if you’re not like a girl, then what are you? Oh, wait — that’s right!
Because what he means that other girls are way too emotional. I mean, who has time for feelings? I know I don’t! I personally prefer to express myself through healthier avenues, like violence and substance abuse.
Or maybe he means that they’re shallow. And really, they are! They’d be better off if they developed interests with more depth, like video games, sports, or cars.
Also, girls are super clingy. He said wanted to be your boyfriend, he didn’t say he would actually start answering your phone calls. And that’s really the thing about girls, isn’t it? They’re always asking for too much. If you ever read If You Give a Mouse a Cookie, you know who it’s really about.
Or maybe he doesn’t like how “slutty” girls are! This makes sense, because all the other girls he knew gave it up too fast. Total sluts, right? Except… someone else other than those girls were present for activities that night too. So by his logic…
But don’t worry, none of this matters! You’re not like them. The part he left out is that you’re not like them because you’re dating a shady hypocritical misogynist and they’re not.
Shady behavior: He has a password on his cell phone.
Why it creates a questionable level of shade:
In a written format, here are your choices: He’s a little too paranoid, which probably means your relationship is about to hit a rough patch soon anyway; he’s a drug dealer, which probably means you’re going to be telling people you’re doing “the long-distance thing” before too long; he’s a shady boyfriend, which probably means that last text he got from “It’s nobody!” is his other significant other; or he’s sitting pretty at some sort of hybrid of those three.
That’s it.
Those are the only people who password protect their phones.
Shady behavior: You haven’t met any of his friends.
Why it creates a questionable level of shade: No one is always out of town, always busy, or always sick, and the reason why they flaked on dinner is because they were never invited.
I know what you’re thinking. No, his friends Rob and Mary are the cutest couple and they would totally love me! Mary and I actually have the same alma mater, so I just know we’ll get along — go Bears! — but Rob has to… work… late… every… night… so… he’s… never… awake… during… the… day… and… Mary… well, it I mean, um, it’s this really weird story! First she got food poisoning, so of course she couldn’t come out, and then her grandma died, so… she couldn’t make it to the movie… and now… she’s… beenonvacationinShanghai… forthepastfourmonths.
Girl.
Shady behavior: He insists that it’s unnecessary to change his Facebook relationship status to “in a relationship” despite the fact that you’ve been official for six months.
Why it creates a questionable level of shade: Oh, I don’t know — call it a hunch.
Now go do some pruning.
POSTED: August 31st, 2010
COMMENTS: 11
I think the most popular relationship advice of all time would have to be “choose your battles wisely.”
If you are nodding along from experience, then you know what this really means: Don’t waste your time getting mad over the fact that he doesn’t understand basic toilet lid etiquette this week, because next week he’s going to tell you that oh, by the way, he may or may not have a child from 2003 somewhere in the suburbs of Tulsa and unless you want to burst a blood vessel, energy conservation and rage in moderation are key.
Exaggerating? Perhaps — but it will definitely feel like he just told you he may or may not have a child from 2003 somewhere in the suburbs of Tulsa when he forgets your birthday. Again. Or accidentally calls you his last girlfriend’s name. Or takes “I mean, do what you want, it’s whatever” as a green light to drop by the strip club on the same night your cat dies. I don’t know, man, you’re the one dating the guy, and can I just say — nice catch. Lock that one down ASAP.
Surprisingly, this advice is only recommended for romantic relationships and neglects to include the second most important relationship you’ll ever have (after the relationship you have with your hair stylist): The relationship you have with your life.
I look around at everyone I know and the only salient pattern that emerges is that to them, everything is the end of the world.
Their 20-something-year-old body, to the surprise of absolutely no one but them, does not bear the same resemblance to a toothpick their 14 year-old body did. And yet there they sit with that “why me?” look in their eyes as they show you their old volleyball team pictures and they’re like, “I had the most amazing legs,” and all the while, you’re thinking, “But you also had an intact hymen, a curfew, and the loser lunch period.”
Their favorite coffee is only available seasonally. This is an inconvenience because there is nothing else to drink during the rest of the year.
Their ex-boyfriend, ex as in former as in no longer dating as in it’s been three fucking years, is dating someone else. For real, though, who does he think he is? And is she cute? No — is she cuter?
There’s no cell phone service in the elevator. How are they supposed to fire off their “on the way to work” tweet when there’s no reception in this godforsaken elevator? Oh, look, finally — “@ATTCustomerCare: You guys know you are THE WORST FIRST-WORLD CELL PHONE PROVIDER EVER, RIGHT?”
Their latest haircut is half an inch shorter than what they wanted and it might not seem like it, but this half-inch of hair was everything that was right about their appearance. Without it, their cheeks are chubbier and their nose looks wider and somehow their cankles are more pronounced and it’s basically just a complete and utter shit show over there, okay?
And wait just a fucking minute, asshole, that was their fucking parking spot! Now… now what are they supposed to do? What do you mean, find another one? Find another one? At this rate, they won’t have time to get their Pumpkin Spice Latte before they clock in and it’s only available for another two weeks.
Like, really? Really?
Everything is actually only around 8% as terrible as you think it is. Quote me.
So quit stressing out about life’s trivialities and choose your battles wisely! I mean, yeah, blah blah blah, better quality of life or whatever, but seriously: It’s going to give you wrinkles.
POSTED: August 27th, 2010
COMMENTS: 11
It’s not easy to do things you’ve never done before — it starts with walking, continues with learning to accessorize and applying to college, tests your patience when you become convinced that Ikea left several key steps out of their instructions, and gets a little dicey around the time you realize the baby in your arms isn’t made of plastic, isn’t your cousin Betsy’s, and is relying on you to make sure it doesn’t die.
Luckily, there are things and people in place to aid us with taking on such tasks.
Our parents are there to hold our hands until we know it’s okay to let go. Our friends and the latest edition of Vogue let us know that skinny belts are on the way out, our guidance counselors help us see that rocking brassy highlights isn’t what the essay prompt meant by “overcoming adversity,” and there are hotlines for people who are challenged by particleboard. The parenting section of Barnes & Noble assures us that our baby doesn’t hate us, and our mothers inform us that we also dabbled in the art of feces fingerpainting and we turned out just fi– well, we turned out, didn’t we?
If you’re anything like me, however, you start to notice that there are things nobody really talks about. Things nobody can really help you with. Things that are kind of a big fucking deal. Like balancing what you’re supposed to do with balls with what you actually feel like doing with balls, how to recover from hitting “reply all” on an e-mail with less than favorable sentiments regarding half of the recipients, and, most importantly, your self-esteem.
My approach towards my self-esteem has always kind of been like, whatever. It’s like a grumpy drunken uncle who I deal with whenever I have to, but other than that, I sort of live my life pretending it doesn’t exist. So far, so good, right? The thing about self-esteem, though, is that you don’t actually notice there’s anything wrong with yours until you realize how much it has led you and your life down the pathetic path less traveled.
It begins easily enough: You talk yourself out of buying the dress you want because you’re convinced your boobs are too small or your stomach is too big or your hips are too wide. I mean, everyone feels that way at some point or another, so you justify your disgust by thinking it’s natural and basically acceptable to completely despise your reflection. A mini-meltdown in the dressing room over a piece of cotton is just the way you roll.
Later that night at the grocery store, you bump into the guy who sat next to you in your political science class two years ago who you always thought was cute and funny and adorable and insightful, but a little shy. You think about asking him if he wants to hang out sometime, but decide not to because he probably doesn’t feel the same way. I mean, why would he, right? Goodbye, almost future husband, you whisper as he walks away from you in the cereal aisle.
The following week at work, you discover that a colleague who performs the exact same tasks as you and has been with the company for less time has received a promotion. For a moment, you think about asking for a raise, but then quickly decide against it. You don’t want to seem pushy or ungrateful or annoying or jealous.
After work, you go out with your friends and one of them poses a moderately intellectual question. You think you know the answer, but you begin to wonder if you really know the answer, and so you bite your tongue to avoid embarrassment in the event that you’re wrong. A few moments later, someone else answers instead — with your answer — after Googling the information on their Blackberry.
This is the sort of shit that you’re used to. And you wonder why your life sucks.
It’s not easy to do things you’ve never done before — which is why this is going to be challenging — but it’s time to get real and call self-esteem what it really is: Self-doubt. There are three things that are good about self-doubt. Can you name them?
Trick fucking question! Nothing is good about self-doubt. Self-doubt cheats you out of a cute wardrobe, sabotages your opportunity lure eligible bachelors back to your pad, annoys your friends, causes unnecessary anxiety, and ensures that you will always be questioning your competence and crossing your fingers when you check your bank balance. Self-doubt is the only thing standing in the way of the life you deserve.
This is why you have to kill your self-doubt. Seriously — it needs to die.
Its weaknesses are compliments from other people (pay them if you have to — this is vital!), flattering lighting (public mirrors are public tears), convincing yourself that people who reject you just can’t handle all of that perfection (it’s not lying if it makes you feel better), and, if you’re taking notes, get out your highlighter: Simply not giving a fuck.
Say it with me: Fuck you, self-doubt. We’re fabulous. TTYN.
POSTED: August 21st, 2010
COMMENTS: 9
There’s a guy I really like and think I could be great with, but I suck at flirting. And should I put more of an effort into my appearance to make him notice me?
Here’s the thing: You need to assume that he’s already drooling over you, so unless you completely blow it by revealing your fifth-date level of crazy upfront, you’re golden.
This is because if he’s not drooling over you, then batting your eyelashes, giggling, playing with your hair, and simulating fellatio on your dessert isn’t going to suddenly make him fall in love. Even if you make a fool out of yourself, he was never going to call the number you left on the napkin anyway.
Bottom line: You have nothing to lose. At this point, your only duty is to convey the message “I like you” without actually saying “I like you,” because whoa. Revealing too much too soon leaves you with a box of tissues and anger management issues a week later. It’s on the Statue of Liberty.
The first thing you want to do is be yourself. I know — what? But really.
Next to no one actually acts like themselves when they meet someone new, and that’s why so many people get divorced. You know those couples that seem to have next to nothing in common and no one can figure out why they’re together and everybody is like, “What does he see in her?” or vice versa?
What he saw in her was the girl who spent two hours researching YouTube eyeliner tutorials before she did her make-up for their first date, told him it was “adorable” that you couldn’t see the floor of his car because of fast food remains and empty cigarette boxes, and claimed she didn’t mind when he called off their plans because a “Boys Night” “suddenly” “came up” “out of nowhere.” If you think any of that held up after three years, a joint cat adoption, and an ex who wouldn’t quit, think again.
What I’m trying to say is, don’t bother contouring your cheekbones or flat-ironing your hair if that isn’t something you normally do. I won’t lie — those things will make you more universally attractive — but if that isn’t you, then why would you want a guy who’s attracted to someone else? There are plenty of guys out there who don’t buy into that. I mean, if you live in Los Angeles, you might want to consider relocating to find those guys, but really. Plenty of them.
The next thing you want to do is lose your nervous body language. Seriously — drop it off on a park bench somewhere and never go back to get it. That means uncross your arms. It makes you look like a mom. (If you are a mom, you should really uncross your arms. It makes you look like one of those moms. And if you’re one of those moms, you’re just not going to be getting a date today. Unless it’s with one of those dads, in which case, good luck with that relationship.) Also, stop hitting the dude. I know that all the magazine writers got together and decided that the key to getting plans for Friday night was to playfully smack a bunch of guys and see which one took the bait, but it makes you look like a first-grader.
Now — and this is very important — you need to control the outcome of this whole exchange with your eyes. Your eyes are like a fucking magic wand! Neglecting to use them or using them improperly is like being an heiress and deciding you’re going to “make an honest living” by selling aluminum can sculptures on the boardwalk. Who does that, right? Your eyes. Use them.
There are three levels of eye contact — the glance (immediately followed by the look away), the creeper, and the temptress. You want to alternate between the glance-and-look and the temptress while avoiding the creeper (a flat-out stare), so pay attention. If you can get these down then it really doesn’t matter what you say, so I’m not going to cover any conversation topics, but here’s a tip: Save your best ones for the always-awkward date #1. Don’t use up your best material upfront — that’s like having Bob Dylan open for Justin Bieber.
The glance-and-look involves catching his eye and then quickly looking away, like you’re shy or something. As if. Since no one gets bashful making eye contact with a friend, this lets him know that he’s out of the friend zone or that you have an eye disorder — hence the temptress to seal the deal. Essentially, you want to maintain eye contact long enough for him to know it’s intentional without any words involved. Blink twice to break the hypnotizing effect, because otherwise you’ll have a stalker on your hands.
The last step is to chase your lunch with a strong cocktail, chase your cocktail with half a pack of Tic-Tacs, and then go chase him. If it all goes to shit, blame it on the alcohol.
If you have a problem you need an expert’s opinion on, ask an expert. Otherwise, ask Filleosophy.
POSTED: August 18th, 2010
COMMENTS: 17
There are three things that I believe one should have on their person at all times.
The first thing is red lipstick. It doesn’t matter if you’re actually wearing it (although you should be), but just that you have it.
It’s great for when you walk past a mirror in fluorescent lighting and see what you really look like. Or when you realize you’re about to be in an impromptu photograph that will be uploaded to the Internet and live a long and healthy life in Google Cache for future dates and employers to access until the end of time. Or when you spot your ex and realize that you look haggard — duck around the corner, apply liberally, and then make an appearance. Now you’ll either look like you’re coming from or going somewhere important and running into him is just keeping you from the next stop on your fabulous agenda.
Red lipstick: Don’t leave home without it.
The second thing is a tiny notebook. A tiny notebook can’t erase itself like your smartphone can, so don’t try to substitute a wimpy portable hard drive for a tiny notebook. You need a tiny notebook to record all of your clever one-liners, future memoir titles, and deep thoughts. If you never think about any of those things, get a tiny notebook anyway and pull it out whenever you find yourself with a spare moment. You will begin to look thoughtful and wise, which will make you feel thoughtful and wise. And when you feel thoughtful and wise, it doesn’t even matter that all you managed to jot down was “To-Do: IDK, it’s on my iCal, lol?”, because feeling is being.
A tiny notebook: Big confidence in little places.
And, probably most importantly, your Bitchface. It’s important to understand exactly what your Bitchface should look like — too much and you’ll look like the product of unfortunate genetics. Too little and you’ll look like people should continue walking on you while you cycle through awkward expressions trying to convince them otherwise.
The best way to find your perfect Bitchface is to locate a mirror, squint your eyes slightly (as though you’re peering into the distance, not trying to enter a Taylor Swift lookalike competition), and let your lips settle into a natural pout. If your natural pout leaves something to be desired, give yourself an underbite. Yes, like that — perfect.
In one carefully calculated gaze, you should be able to convey the following word: “Don’t.” The Bitchface is essential for removing yourself from undesired social situations with just one look.
For visual learners, here’s some inspiration:
Now it’s time to take your Bitchface out for a test spin!
Level 1: The mall. Deliberately plan your route to circle around every kiosk in the place. At this point, your expression should be normal and relaxed. As you approach a kiosk, immediately switch to your Bitchface. If you are asked to try an e-cigarette or new skin care line, there’s still too much Pollyanna in your stride. Try again.
Level 2: Head to San Francisco. If you don’t live near San Francisco, find a way to get there. Don’t just walk — march — to Union Square. Pick a direction and walk a mile. If your find yourself being asked to look at “designer” merchandise or donate to a cause, you’re doing it wrong.
Level 3: Lastly, go to a bar. Alone. At this point in your trial run, even the bartender should wonder whether or not he should ask you if you want a drink, so make sure to get your money out as to appear like a regular customer. If someone were to snap a picture of you in this moment, the only adjectives it should inspire among viewers are “mean,” “cold,” and “scary.” You will not be approached.
You can now navigate your way through any situation in which other people will be present without having to actually deal with them. Awkward conversations on the subway? A thing of the past. Being manipulated into donating your paycheck to save a rare fox in a flyover state? Not anymore! Getting hit on? Never again.
The Bitchface: Human repellent for a more satisfying life experience.
