Spartan Spirit

Now hear this – I have discovered the Holy Land of hot men in Charlotte!  This weekend I found the mecca at an event called the Spartan Race, held at the Whitewater Center.  My eyes have never feasted on so many hot, muddy, shirtless men in my entire life – except for maybe on the pages of GQ Magazine.  Saturday I participated in the race which was challenging and fun, but the best part was the outdoor shower facility for finishers to rinse off.  Below is the PG version of the showers, but picture this scene a few hours later with 50 Spartans stripping to their skivvies and scrubbing mud off their godly physiques.  I was in sheer heaven.  I almost went back into the mud pit, just so I could spend more time hosing down.

Sunday I made the pilgrimage back to the Holy Land, for nothing other than to watch more handsome men cross the finish line.  Next year not only will I participate, but I will volunteer to hand out medals to finishers.  I just hope the Spartan organizers don’t get pissed that I’ve etched my telephone number into the medals.


E and one of the Spartans she got muddy with



Valentime’s Day

Off the bat, why do people call it “Valentime’s day?”  It’s VALENTINE… with an N.  Moving on…

I woke up this morning with a slight feeling of depression, as I’m sure most single girls feel on February 14th.  For a moment, I let my mind drift off to the the memories of last year with Peter Pan, then I swallowed down the vomit and moved forward with my day.  I planned to treat today like any other Tuesday, except with the excitement of dinner at Cowfish with M and mental fantasy of Channing Tatum companied with movie butter popcorn.  As usual on ValentiNe’s day, the receptionist at work called me to say I had flowers waiting at the front desk, all because my mom’s fiance is so well trained that he has his Outlook programmed to send me flowers today and on my birthday.  To my surprise, I had three bouquets waiting for me!  Oh, the feeling of love coupled with the jealousy and/or judgement of the staff is a feeling I revel in twice a year.

The other two bouquets came from the charter members of the Spinsters Club – M and Cray Ray, and they inspired the idea for this post.  Why does love have to come from a man?  Why are we lead to believe on Valentine’s Day that the only love that’s worth a damn has to come from a boyfriend, fiance, or husband?  Not true at all.  I felt more love today from the single act of three people whom I did not have to put out for, than any other February 14th in my entire existence.  So I thought – why do we need to appoint a day to share love with the people who are special to us?  And why do teddy bears, flowers, and boxes of chocolate need to be involved?  Not that I’m complaining about the sweets or flowers…

From this day forward, I’m making a point to practice love in action – for myself, for my family, friends, and significant other (if that ever happens), year-round. It’s a beautiful gesture to buy someone flowers on the 14th, but it’s even more beautiful to treat them with care every other day as well. I don’t always succeed, but if we all made a point to trade products for a way of life, days like Valentine’s Day or symbols like engagement rings would fare inconsequential in light of the powerful connections we are creating with each other. The truth is that it’s hard enough to find love and love ourselves fully sometimes without holidays getting in the way. These are lifelong pursuits that just can’t be bought.

“You only get what you give away, so give love.” -Sara Bareilles (yes I love song lyrics)


Chi-town Swaggggg

Since E & M had a low key and dateless weekend,  a special guest blogger has stepped up to the plate.  Enjoy! 

I’ve earlier been introduced in this blog as “Cray Ray”. I, too, rock the single girl swagg, and am attempting to navigate the waters after being in a relationship for the past 6 years. I ended things with my ex back in August, moved to Chicago from the suburbs, and have been making attempts at learning the rules of the dating world ever since.  One thing I’ve figured out is that I’m not one for rules when it comes to dating, which is probably why E & M were blown away by my techniques of meeting men at the bar during my recent visit to Charlotte. I live by the thought that I know what I like and I can usually talk my way into getting what I want. I get away with this easily living in Chicago, as opposed to what those ladies have to deal with in the South. I think things there are intended to be more traditional and “proper”. My response? Screw that. In our generation, women and men are supposed to be equals – so why can’t I go up to a guy I’m attracted to and buy HIM a shot? I see nothing wrong with this, and while I like being doted on as much as the next girl, I’m certainly not going to wait around for seemingly clueless 20-somethings to come to me.

So when I made eye contact with a guy at the bar in Charlotte, I thought I’d enjoy a dose of much needed small talk, free drinks, and harmless flirt-texting over the next week. Never did I imagine that my adorably coy smile and wave to a man towering over all the others at the bar would lead to drinks back in Chicago a week later. After approaching me and some inaudible bar chat was attempted, M came up to inform me that Big Gulp – deemed so because he’s a tall drink of water at 6’5″ – and his friend were just visiting from Chicago. Small world. Turns out, I have a type – and my type is guys who live in Chicago, and respond well to wildly attractive, confident (some may argue mildly aggressive) women.

 During my time shamelessly flirting, I sent E & M on a mission to perfect my signature move. Already mentioned in a previous post, I like to write my full name and number on a napkin, tell the guy you think he’s really cute and slip him the napkin while shaking his hand, then vanish into the bar haze. It’s so old-school and obvious that this move is surprisingly under-used by women. Men find it intriguing and flattering – they love to be hit on just as much as we do. Not only does it leave them with a tangible reminder of your presence instead of a random number in their phone, but you’ve also provided them with any easy way of Facebooking you, in case they were so overwhelmed by your confidence that they forgot how gorgeous you are (like that’s even possible). Most importantly, it puts the ball in their court; you don’t have their number, or even know their name to anxiously await their text/call or Google-ing them at work (don’t judge). The downfalls of this move include, but are not limited to: occasionally accidentally hitting on married men (they should really wear a sign), or the guy mistakes your confidence as sexual prowess – which you also have, but he doesn’t know that yet.  Needless to say, I don’t find either of these to be enough of a problem to keep me from doing it.

Big Gulp heard me discussing this move to E & M, and asked what he had to do to get a napkin with my number… apparently all you have to do is buy me a Coors Light around 1:30am. Throughout the week I got texts from him most days, and he asked if I wanted to get drinks on Sunday. Don’t get me wrong, I love to keep the Sabbath holy like any other 25 year old single girl living in Chicago, but I decided to put down my Bible and agreed to meet up. About 30 minutes into the evening, I told him I had a serious question to ask him and I wanted him to be honest. Nervously, he asked me to proceed. “Have you ever dressed as the Jolly Green Giant for Halloween?”


Why does a first “date” have to be awkward? Why do we feel like we have to be proper and say all of the right things? I know I’m funny in a very specific (often misconstrued) way and if a guy can’t understand my sarcasm then eff him, I refuse to spend my life explaining my utterly hilarious jokes. Moral of the story: Make your own rules for dating, otherwise you’ll end up playing by someone else’s for the rest of your life. Not every guy you meet is going to be the man of your dreams, but unless you put yourself out there, you’ll never know.


Garden of Olives

Charlotte single men aren’t the only clueless idiots out there.  My super-fox friend from another city was just asked out via this text message: 

“7-730ish work then? I haven’t had the garden of olives in a while does that work?”

First of all, don’t ask out a girl via text message!!!!  Second, Olive Garden was the most romantic place you could think of?  What, did Red Lobster not take reservations??  I almost wish she would accept the date so she could smack him across the face with her unlimited basket of breadsticks.  Geez.

The Jig is up EH…

The awesome thing about E and I being on EH at the same time is that we can compare matches.  The crappy thing about E and I being on EH at the same time is that we do compare matches.  Confusing, I know, so let me elaborate….

Awesome – because when we compare, if I see a guy like phone boy, I can make her communicate and it makes for fun blogging material.  This also has the potential to help us if one of us knows a match and didn’t have any luck with him, but he wasn’t a bad guy – maybe the other will have a better turn-out.  Still makes for fun blogging material.

Crappy – because I have been matched with every single 5’8” or 9” (I’m 5’8” myself), red-headed stepchild across the NC/SC states.  Superficial and petty, I know, but I spent a lot of money on my high-heel collection and don’t want to be destined for a lifetime of flats.  Yet when I compare to E’s matches, she has been matched with all sorts of tall, dark, and handsome men in Charlotte, of all places!

What is going on EH?  Am I truly so incompatible that you have to start throwing me guys from the bottom of the barrel in Fayetteville and Columbia before we go through all of the eligible bachelors close by?  I’ve been so frustrated and disheartened by my matches that I’ve drafted this letter to the good people at EH customer service:

To Whom it May Concern:  You claim that matches are based upon compatibility that will most likely yield a long-term relationship.  However, if you think that the only people I’m compatible with are the matches you’ve sent me so far, then I’m either destined to be a spinster or your site is failing miserably.  I cannot foresee 2 more months of the same type of matches being useful in my journey to find love, so I would either like a refund based on the false promise of compatibility or better matches supporting your promise.

My mother always said the squeaky wheel gets the grease… possibly in the form of a gorgeous Guido?  Who am I kidding, I can’t really be picky at this point!


3 Dates in 3 Days

Last week I went on three dates in three days with Greg Focker, Phone Boy, and Hokie Boy (respectively).  After some inner reflection and a weekend of minimal drunkedness, I am finally ready to post my thoughts on this tragic trifecta.


I wore the same outfit 3 nights in a row.  Recycling outfits saves time and money.

Free meals and/or drinks.  I didn’t even need to go grocery shopping.  Again saving time and money.

I was slightly concerned about gaining weight if I was constantly going out to dinner, but the opposite has happened.  You actually eat less on a date because of nerves, talking, etc.  No fatties here!


Dating is exhausting!  I rushed from work, to the gym, home to shower, out on these dates, then home to bed.  All dates lasted past my bedtime so I was a walking zombie at work.  Thank heavens for the Starbucks in my building and their delicious new blonde roast.

I’m not a good liar or bullshitter.  So when a guy asks me what I’m up to the rest of the week or what I did last night, I have a hard time making up some crap about going to a movie with friends.  In reality I’m wearing the same outfit and going out with some other dude.

Keeping track of the guys’ basic facts is mentally taxing.  I don’t remember which one is from Alabama or Georgia, or if he has 3 brothers, or what his favorite band is.  Perhaps I need flashcards.

All of this leads me to what really set me off after 3 dates in 3 days.  Each man asked me the same horrible question and I have since developed a complex.  “You are beautiful, smart, and successful – why are still single?” Or… “why haven’t you been snatched up yet?”  I’m sure they meant it to be a compliment, but I DID NOT take it that way.  Clearly if I knew the answer to your asinine question, I wouldn’t be single.  Yes I know, I’m a super-fox so what the hell is wrong with me?  Maybe next time I get that question, I’ll just answer that I pee the bed.



So on this dreary Friday night, while E is out on her first EH date, I decided to take a moment to reflect on how we knew it was definitely time to start dating again.  I will call this the “Top 10 Signs You Know You’ve Been Single for Too Long and it’s Time to Get Your Ass Back in the Dating World.”

  1. It’s Friday night and pouring down rain.  Your plans?  Bottle of wine, movie, your dog as your cuddle buddy, and a blog about being single.
  2. Your cuddle buddy (dog) is so comfortable in your relationship, that he sleeps with you in your bed… under your covers.
  3. You live in single woman squalor. Hair in the bathroom, dirty dishes in the sink, gym clothes on the floor.  It’s very easy to clean up, but you don’t have to because you’re the only one who sees your place.
  4. While browsing, your fabulous new book find is a cookbook entitled “Healthy Cooking for One” for only $4 plus S/H.
  5. You decide to make some recipes out of this cookbook so ask for a Crockpot for Christmas.  Surprise!  Santa knows your single so gives you a mini-Crock since you’re only cooking for one!
  6. A daily trip to the gym is a necessity.  A daily shower after the gym, not so essential.
  7. You’ve had a “to-do” list with odd jobs on it for years (like install the energy-efficient shower head you bought when you moved in that is going to help save the environment).  You tell yourself that you’ve been waiting to have a guy help you with this list, and instead you choose to spend your time getting manicures every week and aligning your chakras at yoga.
  8. The lines between flirting and casual conversation have become blurred. Once you have lived in single-dom for too long, any man who is single cannot have a conversation with you without your mind jumping to the conclusion that he’s hitting on you. Scratch that, this goes for any man, whether he’s single or not….
  9. You cyber-stalk exes and old flames.  There is reason you kicked them to the curb, but when you’ve been single too long all the bad seems to fade and you’re left with idyllic picture of what could have been.
  10. When out at a bar and a cute guy approaches you, after 10 minutes if you decide he’s only interested in a one-night stand, you politely decline. Not because you’re morally superior, but because you can go home alone and do it better…


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