<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14065799</id><updated>2011-12-13T19:57:35.106-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Love Biatch</title><subtitle type='html'>Tough Love for the Modern Girl</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovebiatch.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovebiatch.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Biatch</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00435757105920169074</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>41</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14065799.post-112978402259742768</id><published>2005-10-19T21:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-19T21:53:42.596-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Love stank</title><content type='html'>Dear readers,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I mentioned, I've started internet dating again. The difference this time, though, is the fact that I am not looking to get into a relationship. In fact, I am determined not to fall for anyone. Why would I avoid love you ask? Because I'm trying to decide if I want a job in NY, and getting confused about some new guy would only muck up the decision. So I'm dating to kill some time, but I don't expect it to lead anywhere. Can it be a coincidence then that I am doing better than ever with the fellas?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Men can smell desperation. They can smell our hopes and dreams of a white wedding and 2.5 kids as if it's a bad case of B.O. We don't like to admit it, but whether we think we are or not, we are projecting that little fantasy world into the ether, and they, hearkening back to their caveman ways, can sense it. That being said, when we aren't looking, is when the men always seem to come running.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right now, I don't really care whether any of these internet guys call me back after the first date. And lo and behold, most of them are calling back. And yet, there have been a number of times this year when a guy I really liked didn't bother to call back. I have no doubt that it's my new laissez faire attitude that is keeping these guys interested. I'm in the moment rather than 20 steps ahead. And that "here and now" attitude is clearly more attractive to men than the subtle neediness I unwittingly project to them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now if I could just figure out how to keep this attitude once my career is all squared away and I am actually back on the market. Maybe I just have to bear in mind that my heart's been broken before and it'll likely get broken again. But there's always a new guy around the corner to intrigue me all over again, so there's no use getting ahead of myself with the one at hand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;Biatch&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14065799-112978402259742768?l=lovebiatch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovebiatch.blogspot.com/feeds/112978402259742768/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14065799&amp;postID=112978402259742768&amp;isPopup=true' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default/112978402259742768'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default/112978402259742768'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovebiatch.blogspot.com/2005/10/love-stank.html' title='Love stank'/><author><name>Biatch</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00435757105920169074</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14065799.post-112978344131648655</id><published>2005-10-19T21:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-19T21:44:01.373-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Love, business style</title><content type='html'>I'm a big fan of making lists. I like to organize things in bullet point fashion - clear, concise and to the point. I suppose that's what an business education will do for you, right? That said, it's not always as simple as making a nice neat list. I recently tried my hand at internet dating again. Not so much because I was looking for love, but I was looking to kill sometime, and a bevy of blind dates are an easy and pleasant way of doing it (free drinks! conversation! the occasional good night kiss!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unlike previous attempts at internet dating, I've met not one, not two, but four guys I like in just a couple of weeks. Who knew killing time could be so fruitful? Obviously I can't keep this up for long because it either has to get more serious or end, and even I, a serial dater, can't balance 4 almost boyfriends. So today I tried to make some rank order lists.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The 4 guys are: the Welsh guy, the HR guy, the Annapolis guy and the Atlanta guy. First I did the easiest, rank ordered in descending hotness. Annapolis guy came out on top. Then rank ordered by earning potential, Welsh guy came out on top here. But the most important proved to be the hardest to do - rank ordered by personality. Obviously all the good looks and money in the world don't make for a great relationship if the personality is a total mismatch (I'm certain some of my LA neighbors beg to differ, but I'm a talker, I need someone who I enjoy talking with!) It turns out that right now the guys are in a pretty dead heat. I don't know them well enough yet to know whether or not I really like their personalities or if they were just on good first and second date behavior. As I've said before, even Ted Bundy seemed charming at first, so it takes a little while to really sort the whole personality thing out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The funniest bit is that despite the fact that he doesn't come out on top of any of the lists yet, HR guy might just be my favorite. I suppose that just proves that unlike nearly everything else I deal with, my love life can't be figured out with some excel equations and a nifty PowerPoint presentation. =sum(looks, earning potential, personality^2)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;Biatch&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14065799-112978344131648655?l=lovebiatch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovebiatch.blogspot.com/feeds/112978344131648655/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14065799&amp;postID=112978344131648655&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default/112978344131648655'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default/112978344131648655'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovebiatch.blogspot.com/2005/10/love-business-style.html' title='Love, business style'/><author><name>Biatch</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00435757105920169074</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14065799.post-112884343318612241</id><published>2005-10-08T18:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-09T00:37:13.213-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Heartbreaker?</title><content type='html'>Dear readers,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My friend Jerry is a total catch. In fact he's so nice that I kick myself every time we hang out for not &lt;em&gt;liking&lt;/em&gt; him liking him. He is kind, attentive, smart and does things like bring a girlfriend a cupcake when she's having a bad day. Given all of that, it's always educational for me when he tells me about his love life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last week, Jerry told me a story. He got set up on a Saturday night. The girl was nice enough but he had no interest in seeing her again so he simply never called. She called him on Thursday the following week to see what he was up to. He asked me what on earth he was supposed to do since he didn't want to see her again. Obviously my allegiance is to Jerry in this scenario but I can't help but feel bad for this poor oblivious girl! Of course she likes him, he's great...the sad bit is she has no idea that her call has elicited horror rather than delight from him. Wouldn't you just die to know that's the effect your call had?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what's it all mean?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;Even nice guys sometimes don't like you back. Regardless, it's ok to think he's a jerk for hurting your feelings.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;If he doesn't call you, it's not because he lost his phone/got abducted by aliens/got really busy. It's because he didn't want to call you. Take the hint and don't make things worse by calling him. I know this and yet I can still convince myself that it might be ok to call him. Yes, sometimes I too am delusional.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;There is no good way to tell someone you hardly know that you don't feel like getting to know them better. Just never calling them again is as good as any option. Some guys opt for the direct route and call to say they never want to see you again. It is nice to get closure rather than just never knowing what happened, but you only really get closure if the guy is willing to give you a post mortem on what went wrong. If they can't give you any specifics that you can use for future reference, then what's the use?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Truly nice guys at least have the decency to blow you off right away rather than sticking around long enough to sleep with you. He hurts your feelings but he doesn't waste your time or use you...not so bad now is it?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;p&gt;One day some lucky girl will snag Jerry, and she'll get treated like a princess. Until then, he's bound to break some hearts!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Love,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;Biatch &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14065799-112884343318612241?l=lovebiatch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovebiatch.blogspot.com/feeds/112884343318612241/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14065799&amp;postID=112884343318612241&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default/112884343318612241'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default/112884343318612241'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovebiatch.blogspot.com/2005/10/heartbreaker.html' title='Heartbreaker?'/><author><name>Biatch</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00435757105920169074</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14065799.post-112849232978972249</id><published>2005-10-04T22:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-04T23:05:29.796-07:00</updated><title type='text'>When is it not enough?</title><content type='html'>Dear readers,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a recent episode of Grey's Anatomy, Meredith broke up with Dr. McDreamy saying, "it's not enough." That got me thinking. I have often found myself in an untenable situation. The guy isn't giving me what I want, and he likely never will. But still I persist. So where do I draw the line? When do I say, "it's not enough?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's so hard to know the difference between having unreasonable expectations and having perfectly reasonable ones that aren't being met because the guy is wrong for you. I think at our core, we know when it's not enough. It's sheer willfulness and naivete that leads us to think that it ever will be enough. I once dated a guy who lived in the valley, loved staying in, watching football and eating at chain restaurants. Even more importantly, he didn't intellectually challenge me or put any butterflies in my stomach. I knew that what he was offering me just wasn't enough. But still the relationship lingered on for a couple of months. He's sweet and successful and not dumb and sort of handsome, I told myself. Come on...is that really enough? In hindsight, it's obvious that it's not, but in the moment, I was actually able to reconcile that maybe, just maybe he could be a good guy to date.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At least in that case, he was a nice guy. He wasn't enough, but he wasn't a jerk. A guy my friend dated talked a big game about being crazy about her. She told him she wasn't interested in casual sex and was only interested in moving forward in the relationship if he wanted to be serious. "But of course," he says...until of course she does sleep with him. At which point he tells her that his definition of being a boyfriend doesn't particularly include calling her or seeing her often. So basically he's offering occasional sex and some conversation when and if he feels like it. Gee, great! That sure as hell isn't enough, and yet still she found herself a bit torn. Wouldn't occasional company be better than none at all? Well actually the tough but true answer is that no, it isn't enough and it's a waste of your time to pretend otherwise. That occasional company might make you feel better in the moment, but it's sure to leave you emptier later. And every minute you're with Mr. Not Enough is a moment you're not meeting Mr. More Than You'd Hoped For!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now if I could just get those words, "it's not enough," to roll off my tongue as easily as they did on TV...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;Biatch&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14065799-112849232978972249?l=lovebiatch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovebiatch.blogspot.com/feeds/112849232978972249/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14065799&amp;postID=112849232978972249&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default/112849232978972249'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default/112849232978972249'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovebiatch.blogspot.com/2005/10/when-is-it-not-enough.html' title='When is it not enough?'/><author><name>Biatch</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00435757105920169074</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14065799.post-112840244170928713</id><published>2005-09-30T21:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-03T22:07:21.736-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Waiting Game</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Dear Biatch,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I met a great guy the other night and now I'm waiting for his call. It's killing me! How do I deal?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Lauren&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lauren,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Waiting for a call may be one of the worst parts of dating (and believe me I can come up with a lot of bad things about dating!) It's agony wondering will he or won't he. And unfortunately you can't make it happen. First and foremost, forget women's lib, you can't call him. If he wants to talk to you, he'll call. So all you can do is get on with your life and hope for the best. I know, I know...it's next to impossible to do. He seemed so great when you met him, right? So you think to yourself, of course he'll call. But then you remember all the times when you thought that about someone else and he didn't call...so now you're back to wondering if he'll call. Vicious circle, huh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here's what you do. Make plans with your girlfriends, read a good book, watch some TiVo...whatever it takes to keep you from obsessing. If he's as great as he seemed, he'll call. If he doesn't, try not to feel too bad, since realistically he didn't know you in the first place. I know that's easier said than done, so it's certainly ok to be pissed off at him for not being as great as you'd hoped.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For now they stay busy and stay hopeful. His time isn't up yet!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;Biatch&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14065799-112840244170928713?l=lovebiatch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovebiatch.blogspot.com/feeds/112840244170928713/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14065799&amp;postID=112840244170928713&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default/112840244170928713'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default/112840244170928713'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovebiatch.blogspot.com/2005/09/waiting-game.html' title='Waiting Game'/><author><name>Biatch</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00435757105920169074</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14065799.post-112779873698562091</id><published>2005-09-26T22:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-09-26T22:26:02.196-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Flaccid Willy Syndrome</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Dear Biatch,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love my new boyfriend, I really do. But he has sexual problems and I'm getting a little worried about it. At first I thought it was just nerves, but it's a pretty regular thing. Is there something wrong with me or something I should do?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Miranda&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Miranda,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, there is something you should do...run! Run like the wind, seriously. I'm assuming by sexual problems you mean flaccid willy syndrome and not some predilection for something that's only legal in Amsterdam. Look, if it's the first or second time your man can't get it up, no biggie (literally, ha!) You should be the patient girlfriend and don't make him feel guilty about it. I know it's our inclination to blame it on ourselves, but by doing so we actually just make him feel worse and make the situation even more stressful. You are a naked and willing woman, it's unlikely you're the problem. More likely he's stressed or nervous or tired or something of that variety. These things shouldn't be consistent though...he can't be stressed or nervous or tired all the time, right? So if his dangly bits regularly fail to rise to the occasion, then you have to wonder what's going on. If this is someone you've been with for ages and truly love in a deep abiding way, then talk to him about seeing a doctor and figuring out if it's medically or emotionally driven. If he won't go, be done with him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But Miranda here said this is a new boyfriend. If you really think he's otherwise wonderful, you can give him the benefit of the doubt and forewarn him that the lack of sex is a problem for you, but I'm sure he would have fixed the problem already if he could have that easily. Life's too short not to get laid, especially by the man you love and are actually dating. Maybe he's on antidepressants? Maybe he has mommy issues. Maybe he can only get it up if you wear a chicken outfit. Who knows, who cares. Once you've given him a fair shot to discuss whatever is going on with you, there's nothing to do but move on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A girl I know, let's call her Dove Ciatch, has faced this problem before, and let me tell you...no amount of patience or effort was enough to fix a truly sexually dysfunctional man. If it isn't a medical problem that can be addressed with treatment, then it is a psychological one, and that takes a lot of time, effort and a very willing man to fix. Unless he is perfection incarnate (and let's face it, what are the chances that Prince Charming has a limp dick?), then it just isn't worth your while. Tough love indeed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;Biatch&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14065799-112779873698562091?l=lovebiatch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovebiatch.blogspot.com/feeds/112779873698562091/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14065799&amp;postID=112779873698562091&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default/112779873698562091'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default/112779873698562091'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovebiatch.blogspot.com/2005/09/flaccid-willy-syndrome.html' title='Flaccid Willy Syndrome'/><author><name>Biatch</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00435757105920169074</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14065799.post-112650611381014752</id><published>2005-09-11T22:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-09-11T23:21:53.873-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The passive aggressive breakup</title><content type='html'>Dear Biatch,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am sick of this guy I've been dating. He's a nice guy and all, but he drives me nuts. The thing is, I can't get up the nerve to break up with him. I hate hurting people's feelings, and I think I'm going to really catch him off guard by dumping him. I've been letting it drag on for a couple of weeks now, avoiding him as much as I can. When I do see him I don't even kiss him much anymore. What do I do?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lexy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Lexy,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is what I like to call the passive aggressive breakup. You don't have the nerve to break up with him so you subtly mistreat him for long enough that he eventually gets the picture. Any man with a clue will see that he's about to get dumped, and he may just make it easier on you by just disappearing. In the best of all worlds, we should all grow a pair and break up with someone face to face as soon as we know it's over. Alas, this is not the best of all worlds (if it were I'd be married to Ewan McGregor), so the more assertive breakup doesn't always happen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like to think that the average man likes getting dumped even less than the average girl does. Wounded male pride is a bitch ain't it? I'd love to know if men actually prefer to be dumped out right or if they'd rather just get the hint and leave on their own terms. The kindest thing is to pull the band-aid off quickly so he and you can both move on with your lives rather than drag out a bad thing. But I don't think it's the worst thing in the world to be a bit passive aggressive with it. Give him a week or two to get the idea that you aren't so into it anymore so that when you do pull the trigger he isn't totally caught off guard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you aren't kissing him anymore, surely he knows something is up. If I were him I'd be asking you what the problem is. If he asks, that's your chance to be honest with him. Don't lie and drag it out further. If he doesn't ask, well then he's being a bit passive himself. Don't let this passive aggressive stage last longer than a couple weeks. Any longer is just cruel and a big waste of time. Also, don't let passive aggressiveness turn into just plain meanness. It's on thing to not seem so interested in more, it's another to actually be rude to him. If you find yourself starting to snap at him or be cruel in hopes of him dumping you, that's not right. The entire purpose of the passive aggressive break up is to prepare him for you doing it later or get him to just mutually end things. It is not to be so awful to him that you push him away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So Lexy, if you can get up the nerve, go ahead and break up with him ASAP. It sucks to hurt someone's feelings, but having to wonder what's going on is probably pretty painful for him too. It sounds like you've already had your passive aggressive grace period, he likely knows what's coming. So get it over with sooner rather than later!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;Biatch&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14065799-112650611381014752?l=lovebiatch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovebiatch.blogspot.com/feeds/112650611381014752/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14065799&amp;postID=112650611381014752&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default/112650611381014752'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default/112650611381014752'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovebiatch.blogspot.com/2005/09/passive-aggressive-breakup.html' title='The passive aggressive breakup'/><author><name>Biatch</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00435757105920169074</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14065799.post-112616252186165343</id><published>2005-09-07T23:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-09-07T23:57:06.900-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Getting screwed</title><content type='html'>An excerpt from a comment posted on the site:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I was engaged to a woman who I thought was my princess. She lives in Manila, and I live in Hawaii. I saw her every 2 months for 18 months. Then I quit a very high paying management position and moved to Bangkok to start a business to be closer to her. I gave her everything, but I was not buying her love. I brought her to Bangkok twice and things didn't feel right. I asked her many times if there was a problem and told her she could tell me anything, but she claimed everything was fine. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I went to Manila in July and left to come back to Maui on the 28th. On the 8th of this month, I received an anonymous email telling me about her real life with another guy. It included dates and places, more then I wanted to know. I finally got in touch with her the next day, and she finally admitted the truth. She said we would talk later that night, but I received an email from her wishing me good luck, and that was it. I never found out who where when why. In the end, she took the money I'd given her for our wedding to live with someone else. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Do the words "I love you" really mean anything? We said it till the day I left. She had my trust, freedom, love, understanding, commitment, everything she ever desired. How could this have happened?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Tom&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Tom,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It sounds like you got taken for a ride. There are jerks and then there are JERKs. The former is your run of the mill person who stomps on your feelings a bit. The latter is the kind of person who is so scummy that she not only lives a double life, but also has the nerve to steal your money to be someone else. Unfortunately, people like this are good at manipulating and lying, so it may be impossible to decipher fact from fiction.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A couple signs you're being screwed over&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;Is the relationship lopsided? If you're the one putting in all the effort (moving, spending tons of money, changing jobs, etc), something is wrong. Good relationships may not be perfectly balanced, but they don't require you to do all the hard work.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Have you caught her in lies before? Lying gets easier the more you do it. If you catch someone in a lie, bear in mind that they'll only be getting better at it next time around.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;If you know something is clearly wrong and your sig-O refuses to admit it, don't feel like you're the crazy one. If you really know in your heart of hearts that something is off, you're probably right. Be very wary if things feel "off" for too long...the ax will fall sooner or later.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;p&gt;Tom, it sounds like you treated her well. This isn't necessarily about whether you did everything perfectly or not. She clearly had ulterior motives and she took advantage of your kindness. Being kind simply can't guarantee you someone's love or even reciprocal kindness.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;The words "I love you" can mean something profound. But they are also just words, and sadly people can say them without meaning them. My favorite song when I was a kid was a rock ballad called "More than Words." In that song, the singer talks about saying "I love you" isn't enough, you have to show that you love the person. Now I'm pretty sure he's actually using that as justification to get laid, but the sentiment is right. Love is something you show in your every day behavior. The words alone are not enough because clearly a JERK can say them pretty convincingly if she wants to.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Be strong...I know you feel awful now. It'll take time, but you won't feel this bad forever. Next time, be a bit more careful with your heart (and your money) and make the next woman really earn your trust and love.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Love,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Biatch&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14065799-112616252186165343?l=lovebiatch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovebiatch.blogspot.com/feeds/112616252186165343/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14065799&amp;postID=112616252186165343&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default/112616252186165343'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default/112616252186165343'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovebiatch.blogspot.com/2005/09/getting-screwed.html' title='Getting screwed'/><author><name>Biatch</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00435757105920169074</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14065799.post-112607229533250501</id><published>2005-09-06T21:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-09-06T22:51:35.373-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Making my skin crawl</title><content type='html'>Sometimes a relationship can go from pretty good to oh my lord I'm going to vomit if he comes near me in no time flat. I tend to give new guys the benefit of the doubt. I'll meet a guy, I'll be not so sure of him but "gee he seems nice, I should give him a shot." And then bam! He makes my skin crawl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dated Frank for a few weeks. In hindsight, I knew all along that we didn't have much to say to each other. But at the beginning, sheer chemistry and his obvious affection for me were enough. It's hard not to like someone who adores you, isn't it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At first I knew it wasn't going anywhere, but it was fun. Good enough, right? Then I went through a week or two where I got a bit confused by all of his affection, and I started thinking maybe, just maybe it could work. I think a lot of women are so eager to be loved and to love back that we can mistake being loved for loving back. Of course that little illusion was bound to come crashing down sooner or later, so I shouldn't have been surprised when it did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Frank was gone on vacation for a couple of weeks. When he left I was fairly happy with him, but then I had 2 weeks to think about how my life was just fine without him. When he got back the mere idea of kissing him was yak inducing, and yet he still adored me just the same as he had 2 weeks prior.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what happened? My good friend Olivia likes to say "The body never lies" And it's true. Eventually my body realizes the truth even if my brain takes a while to catch up. Nothing really changed between Frank and I during those two weeks, but my body finally decided to send me a message.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some mental notes for next time...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;Don't mistake someone loving you for loving him back.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;It's ok to be swept up in the first blushes of love, but don't stop using your head. If you don't have anything to say to each other, the chemistry will wear thin sooner rather than later.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Listen to your body. If it tells you that you don't want to come near a guy, it's probably for a good reason.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;People get their hearts broken all the time. A lot of those people are perfectly nice and did nothing to deserve it. It doesn't mean you have to love them back. But you do have to be nice and try to do right by them (easier said than done).&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;p&gt;Love,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;Biatch&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14065799-112607229533250501?l=lovebiatch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovebiatch.blogspot.com/feeds/112607229533250501/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14065799&amp;postID=112607229533250501&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default/112607229533250501'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default/112607229533250501'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovebiatch.blogspot.com/2005/09/making-my-skin-crawl.html' title='Making my skin crawl'/><author><name>Biatch</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00435757105920169074</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14065799.post-112546893421815985</id><published>2005-08-30T23:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-30T23:15:34.223-07:00</updated><title type='text'>AWOL</title><content type='html'>The Love Biatch apologizes for being AWOL this week. Unfortunately she has to work a "real" job that pays for things like the chocolate and pedicures she loves so much. As such she is currently trapped working ungodly hours. She doesn't even have time for her typical 2 hours of agonizing over her love life a day. It turns out she prefers thinking about her love life to sitting in a soulless office, but unfortunately the love live thing doesn't pay the bills. The work stuff is even getting in the way of the 4 dates she has lined up this week. Damn the man! Doesn't he understand that she wants to marry him not crunch numbers for him?! The Love Biatch promises she will update the site with lots of new material as soon as she gets through this rather painful patch at work.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14065799-112546893421815985?l=lovebiatch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovebiatch.blogspot.com/feeds/112546893421815985/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14065799&amp;postID=112546893421815985&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default/112546893421815985'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default/112546893421815985'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovebiatch.blogspot.com/2005/08/awol.html' title='AWOL'/><author><name>Biatch</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00435757105920169074</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14065799.post-112486085889380277</id><published>2005-08-23T22:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-24T23:10:24.123-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A shoulder to cry on (but not yours)</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Dear Biatch,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;My ex has been calling me lately. I love being friends with him because I miss having him in my life, but the thing is he wants to talk about his other ex girlfriend to me. I didn't date him that long, but he dated this other girl for years, so I understand that's he's hurting, and I want to be there for him, but I feel weird listening to him talk about someone he obviously cared about more than me. What should I do?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Jacinda&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jacinda,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know it can be hard to really break all ties with a guy when you break up with him. Being friends can feel nice, but initially that's only because it keeps you from having to face the fact that they are done with you. Look I think you can be friends with an ex eventually, but what you're describing here isn't the right kind of friendship.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You want to be friends with an ex? Talk about your mutual hobbies, sports, weather, TV...whatever. But his dating life is off limits, at least until a significant period of time has passed and there really are NO residual feelings left. It sounds to me like you still really care for him, and not just in a friendly way. Given that, it's essential that you get yourself out of this position. You're his ex, not Dr. Joyce.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cut the ties for now...tell him you really do want to be friends but more time needs to pass before you're ready. If you absolutely can't do that, then at least tell him you can't talk to him about his other ex. It's simply too tragic for you to have to console someone about something while actually hiding your own hurt feelings. Who's gonna console you, Jacinda?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's really insensitive of him to even think you might want to offer him love advice. Maybe he doesn't realize it, but if you tell him to stop, then he should be pretty contrite pretty fast if he's actually a good guy. Surely he has another shoulder to cry on besides yours?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;Biatch&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14065799-112486085889380277?l=lovebiatch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovebiatch.blogspot.com/feeds/112486085889380277/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14065799&amp;postID=112486085889380277&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default/112486085889380277'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default/112486085889380277'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovebiatch.blogspot.com/2005/08/shoulder-to-cry-on-but-not-yours.html' title='A shoulder to cry on (but not yours)'/><author><name>Biatch</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00435757105920169074</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14065799.post-112486024654892993</id><published>2005-08-23T21:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-23T22:10:46.566-07:00</updated><title type='text'>8,760 Hours of My Life</title><content type='html'>Hindsight is 20-20 right? Years from now when I am happily married (a girl can dream, right?), I'll look back at the time in my life before I met my husband, and I'll think...what the hell did I waste so much time bitching and moaning about finding a man for?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I estimate I spend at least 2 hours a day lamenting my lack o' man. Sometimes it's in the form of complaining to friends, other times it's spent mentally plotting how to find him, other times it's spent wondering what I think of my current beau. Regardless, it's a primary focus of my mind every day. Let's say I meet Mr. Right at 30. That means if we assume I started the serious boyfriend hunt around say 18, I spent 8,760 hours thinking about finding/keeping a man. That's a year! A full year of my life wasted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If somehow I could have known that I'd eventually find HIM, just think what I could have done during those 8,760 hours! Finally take those tennis/photography/pottery/salsa/Spanish classes I've been meaning to take! Finally read the classics or at least put a dent in my zillion book wish list on Amazon! Exercise enough to bounce a quarter off my flat, flat stomach! Get 9 hours of sleep a night!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But alas, it's only in hindsight that I'll know that all of those hours spent agonizing over my love life were a waste. Until then, those are valuable hours spent plotting and venting, and I simply can't resist the urge to discuss my angst with my friends. But perhaps it's time to at least cut that 2 hour daily angst dose down to say an hour? That way I could at least squeeze in a salsa class or two...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;Biatch&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14065799-112486024654892993?l=lovebiatch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovebiatch.blogspot.com/feeds/112486024654892993/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14065799&amp;postID=112486024654892993&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default/112486024654892993'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default/112486024654892993'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovebiatch.blogspot.com/2005/08/8760-hours-of-my-life.html' title='8,760 Hours of My Life'/><author><name>Biatch</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00435757105920169074</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14065799.post-112469373461336964</id><published>2005-08-21T23:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-21T23:55:34.640-07:00</updated><title type='text'>On friends and love</title><content type='html'>Our friends play an important role in helping us manage our love lives. They tell us when we're freaking out over nothing, they let us blubber all over them when we get dumped, they celebrate our successes. But not every friend knows how to say the right thing at the right time when it comes to love. Some major friendship sins:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;Self absorption. Some people really can't see past their own nose. This kind of behavior is always annoying, but it can be bearable if life is running smoothly and you're just having fun. But a self absorbed friend is the WORST when it comes to helping you through a rough patch. I was once telling a friend about my recent breakup and how disappointed I was about it. Now if this was something I'd been whining about for weeks, I'd understand if my friends eventually tuned me out, but this was a fresh wound and I was telling my friend about it for the first time. I was literally in mid-sentence as I explained what had happened, and my friend interrupted me to say, "oh did I mention I am helping my mom buy a new car?" Wha??? Last time I checked that had nothing to do with my heartache, and it could have waited for me to at least finish my sentence. Unless your eyeballs are bleeding, I don't want to hear about it within the first 10 minutes I am telling you about how I am heartbroken!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Lack of empathy. Some people just never learned how to walk in another's shoes. When it comes to empathizing with your pain, this friend always says the wrong thing because she just doesn't "get" where you're coming from. If you think something is the worst thing in the world, it's ok for someone to say that it'll get better, it's not ok for them to say it's no big deal. If nothing else, your pain is real to you. A friend appreciates that.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Letting us be self destructive. Any friend worth a damn will tell you the cold hard truth when it comes to something truly important. If you're dating a run of the mill jerk, it's probably better that she keeps her opinion to herself, but if you're dating someone emotionally or physically abusive or someone who is otherwise fundamentally crap, then it's a friend's job to speak the truths that you're too afraid to admit.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Saying too much too soon. Friends can end up in the doghouse if they say anything too bad about our sig-o's. The fact of the matter is, if the couple gets back together, your friend won't look so kindly on harsh words spoken about him...even if she was saying far worse! It's always a safer bet to save our most vitriolic criticisms until we are damn sure he's gone for good.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;She makes it about her. I once had a friend who could take any scenario and somehow turn it into something about her. I'd be crying about a breakup and she'd liken it to a breakup she once had, which was soooooo much worse. Next thing you know, I was comforting her over some 5 year old wound!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;p&gt;So be a good friend - listen, empathize, speak out when it's important and stay mum when it isn't...and for God's sake don't mention your mom's new car! &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;Biatch&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14065799-112469373461336964?l=lovebiatch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovebiatch.blogspot.com/feeds/112469373461336964/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14065799&amp;postID=112469373461336964&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default/112469373461336964'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default/112469373461336964'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovebiatch.blogspot.com/2005/08/on-friends-and-love.html' title='On friends and love'/><author><name>Biatch</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00435757105920169074</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14065799.post-112442856119084680</id><published>2005-08-18T21:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-18T22:16:59.826-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Fizzling L-Bomb</title><content type='html'>Dear readers,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to be loved as much as the next girl (perhaps even more to be quite honest!) But proclamations of love can make me nervous, particularly when they come too soon. Typically when I date someone, getting him to announce his love is a long and arduous process, chock full of vague and sometimes not-so-vague hinting around the topic. Usually by the time he tells me he loves me, I am overjoyed and all too happy to return the favor. But what about in those rare instances when it comes before I'm ready. I'm a woman, aren't I always ready? It turns out that sometimes I'm actually a little slower on the draw when it comes to feelings of love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are few things in life more awkward than dead silence following the dropping of an L-Bomb. Time stops and possibilities race through your head. Say it back even though you don't mean it? Downgrade it to a "I like you, too?" Explain how you feel? Or just stone cold silence? I was the recipient of an L-Bomb after 3 weeks of dating. I adored this guy, I really did. But I was simply not ready to utter those words. And so I said nothing. This poor guy who was doing something good, right? And instead of being rewarded, he was probably humiliated. In the end, it would have been unfair to say it back if I didn't really mean it. Telling someone you love them is a promise of sorts. A promise of a future together, of deep felt, enduring feelings. Lying would be unfair to both of us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what is the right response? I'm not sure there is one. It's never going to feel good to have your love unrequited. That's why I think it's so important to be careful when you dole out your "I love you's". Probably the best response is to explain that you really do like him but you aren't ready to say those words yet, but when it happens unexpectedly, it can be hard to find those words.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Personally, I don't actually ever say it until my boyfriend has said it first. Not because I don't feel it, but because I know myself enough to know that I would NOT handle it well to have my L-bomb languish out in space. And I can imagine few ways to drive a man away faster than to tell him you love him too soon. And if you do drop your bomb prematurely? Try not to be too heartbroken...it doesn't mean it'll never be returned, it just means you might have to wait for your loved one to catch up a bit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As for me, it's nice to know I'm loved even if it scares the bejeezus out of me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;Biatch&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14065799-112442856119084680?l=lovebiatch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovebiatch.blogspot.com/feeds/112442856119084680/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14065799&amp;postID=112442856119084680&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default/112442856119084680'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default/112442856119084680'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovebiatch.blogspot.com/2005/08/fizzling-l-bomb.html' title='A Fizzling L-Bomb'/><author><name>Biatch</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00435757105920169074</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14065799.post-112422844060165322</id><published>2005-08-16T20:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-24T23:10:45.683-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Just friends</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Dear Biatch,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hi, it's Delia again. So remember that guy J I was seeing? Well now he and I are just friends. I know you think I shouldn't see him anymore, but I'm so drawn to him! I think we're out of the woods now anyway...I mean I don't have any expectations about dating him, so why can't I just enjoy his company? I'm still single and looking, but I want J in my life. Is that a bad idea?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Delia&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Delia, Delia, Delia. Yes it's bad! Look, ex's can make great friends. In fact one of my ex's is one of my best friends in the world. That said, this is no typical ex. This is J, the guy who chewed up your heart, spit it out, doused it in gasoline and lit it on fire. Have you forgotten? I certainly haven't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you want to be friends with an ex, it's essential that you do not still harbor feelings for him. If you do, then you are not really friends, you are just biding your time until 1) you make a move on him again 2) you give up on him 3) he realizes he was wrong and he loves you. As long as you are in the midst of that process, you are not truly open to other emotional opportunities and you are most definitely not getting over him. As you say, you are "drawn" to J. That's a very dangerous recipe for friendship. He may be fascinating to talk to, but as long as he's in your life, can you really get past the heartache and confusion he caused you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, do you really want to be friends with someone who treated you like crap? If your good buddy the Love Biatch treated you so badly would you be so quick to forgive? We often demand so much more of our friends than we do our lovers, and that simply does not make sense. If someone is regularly seeing you both emotionally and physically naked, they should at the minimum treat you with respect. As I recall, respect was not J's strongsuit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't care what his excuses are for his treatment of you, it's not enough. If he were to ever actually apologize in a way commensurate with the amount of pain he caused you, then just maybe I'd be willing to concede that he's not an evil being. But even then my first point still remains. It's not healthy for you to be friends with him because he's still nawing at something raw and emotional deep inside of you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If by some miracle you wake up one day and 1) you are 100% confident that you only like him as a friend and are in no way "drawn" to him 2) he has apologized fully and is truly contrite about his former bastard behavior, then sure be friends with him. Until that day, though, it's better to cut bait and move on. There will be other interesting men to meet, but you won't find them as long as you're tied up with this mess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;Biatch&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14065799-112422844060165322?l=lovebiatch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovebiatch.blogspot.com/feeds/112422844060165322/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14065799&amp;postID=112422844060165322&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default/112422844060165322'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default/112422844060165322'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovebiatch.blogspot.com/2005/08/just-friends.html' title='Just friends'/><author><name>Biatch</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00435757105920169074</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14065799.post-112387033206672071</id><published>2005-08-11T22:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-13T19:22:59.923-07:00</updated><title type='text'>e-dumping</title><content type='html'>Dear Readers,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Modern technology is wonderful in so many ways. A day without email or instant messaging is simply unbearable. And no one would argue that it hasn't changed the way we communicate. Now sharing your thoughts is only a key stroke away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what has it done for dating? Well it's obviously made it a helluva lot easier to meet people via dating sites. It has also enabled a whole new way of flirting...coy emails, text messages and IM's are much less threatening than actual face to face contact.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But of course there's a dark side to technology and dating. No one enjoys hurting someone else's feelings...or maybe some do, but no one likes actually having to deal with the emotional fall-out face to face. And no one can throw something at you our cuss you out if you are safely ensconced in cyber space. And thus the advent of the e-dumping.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From: Y&lt;br /&gt;Subject: RE: Breakup&lt;br /&gt;Date: Fri, 12 Aug 2005 10:39:16 -0700&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear X,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's just not working out. I hope you understand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Y&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I'm ashamed to admit, I too have fallen prey to the deceptive ease of the e-dumping. I'd been on 2 dates with a guy and had no interest in seeing him for the 3rd date I'd already agreed to. Since we'd had so little interaction in the first place, and the whole relationship had only been a week, I figured an email was easier for everyone. I mean, why would he want to actually listen to me say I wasn't interested? Wouldn't it just be less embarrassing for him if he could nurse his wounded ego in front of the glow of the monitor instead of right in front of me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But here's the thing. I've been e-dumped twice now, and let me tell you it's insulting and it sucks in a profound sort of way. First off, you can't control when the dumpee actually reads the email, so it can come at an inopportune time, like say 9 am on a work day. Who wants to deal with the shock of being dumped in front of all of their coworkers with a full day still ahead of them? Cruel, just cruel! Secondly, it doesn't allow for any reaction on the dumpee's part (which admittedly is much of the allure of the e-dumping for the dumper). But that's just not fair. If you've been dating someone long enough to feel obligated to notify them that you won't be seeing them again, then at least make yourself available for reaction.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I got e-dumped, I just wanted to understand why. But text on a screen can't answer that for me. And so my choice was suck it up and take the email at face value or call him. Neither is a particularly appealing option, and it could have been made easier if I could have just asked him immediately what he was thinking. Maybe some really would prefer to be e-dumped because it's much less awkward, but not me. I'm not sure how you're supposed to know if someone is e-dumpable, but until you can determine that, it's just poor form to do it. Next time, grow a pair and call the poor sucker.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;Biatch&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;P.S. To the guy I e-dumped...I'm sorry. Karma's&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;a bitch and I know that now. I for one will not be e-dumping again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14065799-112387033206672071?l=lovebiatch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovebiatch.blogspot.com/feeds/112387033206672071/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14065799&amp;postID=112387033206672071&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default/112387033206672071'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default/112387033206672071'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovebiatch.blogspot.com/2005/08/e-dumping.html' title='e-dumping'/><author><name>Biatch</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00435757105920169074</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14065799.post-112386931460275024</id><published>2005-08-11T22:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-12T11:26:14.123-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sixth Sense</title><content type='html'>Dear readers,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've talked about instincts before...and how usually women hope for the best from men and therefore are blind to reality. But there' s another side to it. Sometimes we see the writing on the wall...we know we're about to get tossed to the curb...and yet it's hard to believe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was dating a guy recently, let's call him Mark. Mark seemed like just what I've been looking for. Smart, funny, successful, warm. And as far as I know, he really is all of those things. I'll never really know, though, because he dumped me rather unceremoniously via email after a few dates. Here's the strange thing, though. Despite the fact that each of our 3 dates really was fantastic, and our second date even included a lovely bouquet of flowers, I somehow KNEW it was going to be over soon. Call it a dating sixth sense. I can't pin point a single real sign that he wasn't as into me as I hoped, and yet I can't say I'm surprised that it ended almost as fast as it began.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The problem with trusting this sixth sense is that it's the job of your family and friends to convince you that you're being ridiculous when you speculate about these feelings. "I just feel like something bad is going to happen," I said. "He didn't email today, and he usually does, maybe something changed?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Don't be silly," everyone says in chorus. "He clearly likes you. He just introduced you to his friends last night. He just gave you flowers. He writes you ever day. He must just be busy. Don't be such a pessimist." And no matter how many times my sixth sense has been proven right, I don't listen to it because I don't want to be a pessimist, and I do want to believe that I am just being silly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what is there to do about this? How do you draw the line between a real instinct for what's going on and needless pessimism? First, I think it's important to really listen to your instincts. If you really, truly feel it in your bones that something is wrong, it probably is. Even if your only signal is a day without an email or a call or a shorter than usual kiss goodnight. I can look and hindsight and see that there is a difference between the feeling I had just previous to being e-dumped by Mark and the feeling I get when I'm just winding myself up about someone. The key will be learning to tell the difference!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Second, perhaps sometimes it is wise not to tell absolutely everything to our confidants. It is their job after all to be optimistic for us. And sometimes optimism isn't really what we need. Instead we need a dose of cold, hard reality. Maybe if we let it percolate a little more in our own minds, without the sunny optimism of outside influences, we'll see things as they really are. As friends, maybe it's our job to occasionally just listen and agree with what our friend's gut is telling her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the end it doesn't really matter if we trust our instincts in these scenarios or not. Regardless of whether I was expecting the e-dumping wouldn't have stopped it from happening. But I suppose it at least would have kept me from being so hopeful in the first place. And maybe, just maybe, one day it'll help me avoid these situations all together. Or better yet preemptively dump the guy...via email of course!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;Biatch&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14065799-112386931460275024?l=lovebiatch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovebiatch.blogspot.com/feeds/112386931460275024/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14065799&amp;postID=112386931460275024&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default/112386931460275024'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default/112386931460275024'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovebiatch.blogspot.com/2005/08/sixth-sense.html' title='Sixth Sense'/><author><name>Biatch</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00435757105920169074</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14065799.post-112365228681933041</id><published>2005-08-09T20:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-09T22:38:06.843-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Disrespecting</title><content type='html'>Dear readers,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A guy friend of mine once told me about his theory on how to make someone really like you. He said you have to "disrespect" them because everyone secretly wants to be mistreated. Now this is an interesting theory. At first glance, it can't possibly be right can it? We bitch and moan endlessly about being mistreated. We don't secretly like it do we?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's look at the evidence:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;Women love a bad boy. Just look at the success of Tommy Lee, Colin Farrell and Russell Crowe. Somehow I doubt they're showering the ladies in their life with roses and love sonnets. More likely, there's some serious disrespecting going on (i.e. illicit sex videos, spousal abuse, cheating). &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;We get turned off if someone is "too into us." I know so many girls who cringe if a boy gives them flowers, compliments them too much, or even actually calls when he says he's going to.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;We let men string us along for years. They don't call when they say they will, we wait by the phone. They dump us, we take them back. They cheat on us, we forgive them. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;p&gt;Now obviously there's a part of all of us that &lt;em&gt;does&lt;/em&gt; want to be treated well. We wouldn't spend countless hours reading things like &lt;em&gt;He's Just Not That Into You &lt;/em&gt;or whining to our girlfriends if we didn't really want to be happy. So maybe it's time to stop wanting to be disrespected. Maybe, just maybe we wouldn't get disrespected so much if we didn't reward that behavior. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;My friend Samantha always dated bad boys. And surprise surprise, they never treated her very well. A few months back, she met a guy. He liked her and treated her like a princess from the start, nothing over the top, but still sweet and consistent. She knew she had a good guy on her hands, so for once she fought her natural urges and gave the good guy a chance. And guess what...they're happy and in love, and now she can't remember why she ever wanted to those bad guys in the first place. I'm just saying...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Love,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;Biatch&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14065799-112365228681933041?l=lovebiatch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovebiatch.blogspot.com/feeds/112365228681933041/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14065799&amp;postID=112365228681933041&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default/112365228681933041'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default/112365228681933041'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovebiatch.blogspot.com/2005/08/disrespecting_09.html' title='Disrespecting'/><author><name>Biatch</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00435757105920169074</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14065799.post-112198882269633008</id><published>2005-08-09T19:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-10T10:05:58.056-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dynasty moment</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Dear Biatch,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was seeing this guy Mike, who I met on-line, for a couple of months, and we were pretty serious. The only thing that was bugging me was that I could see that he was still going on the website where I met him. Is there a good reason he could still be going on there? I can't really think of one, but I'm trying to! So I decided to confront him the other day about it, and I drove over to his place at about 10 pm. When I got there we started talking about it, and I decided to go get a glass of water before we went any further. Well lo and behold, there was a girl hiding in the kitchen!!! Needless to say, I walked back out and slapped him and told him to f*** off. What the hell?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ginny&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Ginny,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some thoughts on where it all went wrong:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;There is NO good reason for a man you are dating seriously to be on the prowl on internet dating sites. None, nada, zip. I'm sure your girlfriends can come up with excuses - like maybe he's just bored at work or perhaps he's just reading what people have written him but not replying. They mean well, but they're just trying to keep you from freaking out. In the end, if he's looking at dating websites, he's not taking you quite as seriously as you are taking him.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;This might be a controversial perspective, but here goes...You are NEVER exclusive until you've both said so. I think a lot of people, hopeless romantics foremost among them, like to assume exclusivity after say X number of dates or having sex for the first time. Unfortunately as long as there are loopholes, people will jump through them. If you want to be exclusive, it needs to be overtly communicated. At least that way, if you catch your guy with another girl, he can't claim he didn't realize he wasn't allowed to date other people. It's not a romantic perspective, but hey I'm an MBA, what do you expect?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Sometimes we all need to have our Dynasty moments. Those are the times when you do something a bit over-the-top, something Joan Collins would be proud of. I prefer to throw wine on someone since it's less physically violent and more dramatic (and long lasting!) Yes, of course it's poor form, and it doesn't solve anything, but man oh man do you feel better afterwards. The key is to not cross the line into psycho ex territory. It's a fine line indeed, so be careful when unleashing your inner Carrington.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Hiding a girl in your kitchen is just dumb. At least try to keep your girlfriend out of the kitchen if there is another woman hiding in there. I'd recommend under the bed as a better hiding place. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;If you are the girl hiding in the kitchen, you have to wonder "what has my life come to?" Do you really want to be with a guy who is cheating on his girlfriend? At least he could have the cojones to stand his ground and own up to cheating. Having to hide is just plain embarrassing.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;p&gt;Love,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;Biatch&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14065799-112198882269633008?l=lovebiatch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovebiatch.blogspot.com/feeds/112198882269633008/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14065799&amp;postID=112198882269633008&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default/112198882269633008'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default/112198882269633008'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovebiatch.blogspot.com/2005/08/dynasty-moment.html' title='Dynasty moment'/><author><name>Biatch</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00435757105920169074</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14065799.post-112352235062670443</id><published>2005-08-07T22:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-08T11:12:50.956-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Love Bloat</title><content type='html'>Eating one piece of chocolate is delicious, but too many and you have a stomach ache. Love can be like that, too. Some guys are so romantic and intense. From the moment they meet you, they are smitten. At first, it's like that first bite of chocolate. You are so used to being ill-treated that such great treatment seems too good to be true. You revel in the compliments, over the top as they may be, and you luxuriate in the long, loving glances they send your way. But once the initial thrill of being so adored wears off, the too much of a good thing "stomach ache" begins to kick in. You begin to wonder if you really like him or just the attention he lavishes on you. You begin to cringe when he doles out his sweet nothings. When taken to the extreme, you begin to actually mistreat him (much as you have been mistreated in the past) just to see if you can get away with it, or better yet drive him away. You've got romance bloat, and it ain't pretty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what can you take away from all of this?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;Savor the thrill. The initial rush of romance is often the best part, and may not be followed by anything real. So enjoy it while it lasts!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;True adoration has to be earned. If it comes too easily, it's often unappreciated. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Remember the golden rule, the next time you are about to mistreat a guy who adores you, remember how crap it feels to be treated like that by someone you like.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Try to slow things down. Mr. Romance might actually turn out to be great, and not as gag inducing as you would expect. Just give him time to settle down a bit, and see what develops.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;A man who really likes you IS going to treat you well. So don't become one of those girls who can't stand it when guys are romantic. I know lots of women who can't stand it when men give them flowers because it makes them feel for lack of a better word "icky." You deserve flowers, so don't let your stomach get turned too easily.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;p&gt;          Love,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;        &lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;  Biatch&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14065799-112352235062670443?l=lovebiatch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovebiatch.blogspot.com/feeds/112352235062670443/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14065799&amp;postID=112352235062670443&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default/112352235062670443'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default/112352235062670443'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovebiatch.blogspot.com/2005/08/love-bloat.html' title='Love Bloat'/><author><name>Biatch</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00435757105920169074</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14065799.post-112329294609160486</id><published>2005-08-05T18:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-05T18:49:06.100-07:00</updated><title type='text'>To cook or not to cook?</title><content type='html'>My blind date and I were talking about manual labor recently, and I was joking about how I avoid it at all costs. The bartender chimes in, "if you don't cook and clean, no man is ever going to want you. You'll be 38 and wondering why you're alone, and it'll be because you don't cook."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whoa? When did it come to this? Should I rush out and take some classes right this moment? Where does one even purchase an apron these days - I don't recall seeing them at Bloomingdales?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was pretty offended by what the bartender said, not because I'm a feminist, and not because I'm actually afraid of being 38 and eating takeout alone and wondering where it all went wrong. No, I was offended because where on earth does a fricking hourly worker get off shoving his opinion down my throat (during a date no less!)? What makes him think he knows anything about me? Worse yet, does he not realize that 38 is over a decade away? Is my eye cream not working?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So should I be worried? I take comfort in knowing there are lots of men out there who like to cook, or better yet like to eat out. The key is to find one of them. Or at least find one who likes tortellini, chili or grilled cheese (the 3 things I cook).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If a guy is looking for little Suzy homemaker, alas, it ain't me. More power to the girl who can provide that and bring in six figures and maintain her slim figure and chase around the rugrats. With me, he'll have to settle for 2 or 3 out of 4. I'm pretty realistic about what I have to offer. Good career prospects? Check. Witty banter? Hell yeah. Successful beauty regiment? So I've been told. Passionate? But of course. But a good cook? Sorry that's where I take a pass. I'm willing to try to learn, but I simply cannot foresee a day when I'll want to cook an elaborate meal every night. If that's enough of a deal breaker for a guy, then c'est la vie, but I have a hard time believing the 35 year old guy tending bar is the authority on what all men, particularly the men I'd like (i.e. not him) want.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It would have been all to easy to believe what that guy had to say, but where would that leave me? Grumpy and standing over a stove! Perhaps the bartender just didn't realize how fast my dialing fingers and how vast my takeout menu collection are?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;Biatch&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS... Hey bartender, you know what else I don't do? Paint the walls, change the oil, mow the lawn or sew.  I'm pretty sure I can hire someone to do those things for me if push comes to shove. Looking for a dayjob?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14065799-112329294609160486?l=lovebiatch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default/112329294609160486'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default/112329294609160486'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovebiatch.blogspot.com/2005/08/to-cook-or-not-to-cook.html' title='To cook or not to cook?'/><author><name>Biatch</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00435757105920169074</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14065799.post-112321002681248456</id><published>2005-08-04T19:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-05T18:17:30.746-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Buffer Boy</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Dear Biatch,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I am crazy about this guy Chris I just started dating. I have another guy Mark who keeps asking me out, and he seems pretty cool, but I don't see the point in going out with him. I call Chris a lot and do things like pick him up little things I see that remind me of him. I know I'm supposed to play hard to get, but I just can't. Am I screwing things up?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Candace&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Candace,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately your version of being sweet to Chris, might just be coming off as overbearing and worse yet, nutso. You said it yourself, you're "crazy" about him! Allow me to introduce you to a wonderful concept you seem to be missing out on:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Buffer Boy &lt;/strong&gt;buff-er boi n.&lt;br /&gt;A boy who provides a buffer between you and object of your affection and/or obsession.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mark sounds like an excellent candidate for a buffer boy role. If you are busy seeing Mark, who by your own account is cool, then you aren't busy coming on too strong with Chris.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Look, I am not saying you have to follow the "Rules" and pretend to be something you're not. I'm just saying you're not doing yourself any favors when you call him too much or give him gifts for no reason. You just haven't been with him long enough to merit that. If he doesn't feel like he earned your sweetness, he's less likely to appreciate it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm also not saying to use Mark. But if you like him well enough and you aren't making false promises to him, there's no harm in having a little fun hanging out with him. And the buffer he provides might be just enough to keep you from pushing Chris away!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5 ways to drive a man away in no time flat:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;Start calling him baby names. You might get away with Schnookie and Poopsie Pie once he already loves you, but it's more likely to inspire his gag reflex than affection early on.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Call him all the time or just show up on his doorstep frequently. Can you say stalker?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Tell him you want to have his babies.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Unload all your baggage on him. Ultimately he's gotta accept you warts and all, but at the beginning, let him still think you're perfect.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Drop the L-Bomb.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Love,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;Biatch&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14065799-112321002681248456?l=lovebiatch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovebiatch.blogspot.com/feeds/112321002681248456/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14065799&amp;postID=112321002681248456&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default/112321002681248456'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default/112321002681248456'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovebiatch.blogspot.com/2005/08/buffer-boy.html' title='Buffer Boy'/><author><name>Biatch</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00435757105920169074</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14065799.post-112295249807929841</id><published>2005-08-02T20:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-02T19:23:00.483-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Missing that certain something</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Dear Biatch,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I met this guy Nathan a month ago. At first it was wonderful...he was so sweet and thoughtful, and he seemed to really like me. Then out of nowhere he starts acting a little weird last week. I call him just to chat and try to feel him out for if something is wrong. It started out great, but then he tells me, "I think you're really great, but I just feel like something is missing. I'm looking to get married, and I just think I'd know by now if you were the one." What??? It had only been a month, and as far as I knew, it was going great. How could he know so fast, and how could he feel so differently from me? I think if he'd given me a shot, he would have realized there was "something" there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Olivia&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Olivia, Unfortunately, there's no convincing a guy there is "something" there if he doesn't feel it on his own. Here'&lt;br /&gt;s the deal, women, particularly the older they get, tend to be really hopeful that the next guy might be The ONE. Got a good job? Check. Cute enough? Check. Doesn't treat me like crap? Check. If he ticks off enough boxes, and we like kissing him well enough, we thinking to ourselves, "This could be the ONE!" Obviously, though, every half way decent guy can't be the ONE, or else we all would have gotten married and lived happily ever after long ago. So obviously our initial evaluations leave a little something to be desired.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Given women's profound optimism, our instincts are simply not to be trusted sometimes. That said, we should actually trust the man's instincts in this scenario. If he thinks you aren't the woman he'd want to marry, well then Olivia, no matter what you think, you aren't the woman he should marry. In fact, he's doing you a favor by cutting you loose instead of dragging you along while him hems and haws over whether he likes you or not. Do you actually want to marry a man who isn't sure he wants to marry you? Would you be happy knowing you had to cajole someone into thinking you're great?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Painful as it is to be rejected by anyone, it's better to trust that his instincts are a bit more finely tuned than yours. Men cut us a lot less slack at the beginning, and it's probably for the best that they make such quick judgments. Personally I don't think you have to know you're going to marry someone to want to get to know them better, but if that's how he thinks, then you have to accept that about him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The flip side of this is that if a woman ever has the instinct that the guy is wrong for her, then for the love of all that's holy, RUN! We're the eternal optimists, so if we actually think the guy is wrong, then what on earth are we waiting for?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So Olivia, I know it hurts to be dumped, and it's OK to grieve the end of something you thought had potential. But try to remember that just because it has the makings of a good relationship, it doesn't necessarily mean that it &lt;em&gt;is&lt;/em&gt; a good relationship. You'll find a man one day who thinks you've got "something" in spades, and you'll realize Nathan was right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;Biatch&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14065799-112295249807929841?l=lovebiatch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovebiatch.blogspot.com/feeds/112295249807929841/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14065799&amp;postID=112295249807929841&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default/112295249807929841'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default/112295249807929841'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovebiatch.blogspot.com/2005/08/missing-that-certain-something.html' title='Missing that certain something'/><author><name>Biatch</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00435757105920169074</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14065799.post-112283144480532442</id><published>2005-07-31T10:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-01T14:28:25.426-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Finding love in your bunny slippers (aka the secrets to internet dating)</title><content type='html'>Nowadays it seems just about everyone and their brothers are on-line dating. Looking for love from the safety of your own living room certainly requires less energy. Does it get any easier than reading people's stats and even beginning your flirtation all without ever taking off your favorite bunny slippers? That said, the internet dating world has its own particular challenges and is like everything in love, complicated. So below are a few observations and tips I've gleaned from my own internet dating experiments...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;At least 9 out of 10 internet dates lead nowhere, so be prepared to invest quite a bit of time if you're serious about it. If you wanted, internet dating could provide you with dates every night of the week (and I've had friends who could cram more than one into a weekend day!), but just don't expect most of those to be very good. If you set your expectations too high, you will invariably be disappointed. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Because most dates are utterly useless, be careful about where you go on the first date. Coffee or drinks is best because you can quickly extricate yourself if he turns out to be 100 pounds heavier than his photo or have halitosis that could kill a small animal. I once left a coffee date after a mere 15 minutes when he revealed the "job" he'd bragged about on email was actually just a part time gig helping out his uncle while he looked for real work and that his house in the valley was also inhabited and owned by his parents. Ugh! Save dinner for second dates when you already know if they're worth investing 2 hours with.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;No matter how attractive the photos you see, you can never know if you are going to actually find the person physically appealing until you see them. The pics could be old or the person could just be amazingly photographic. Heading into my first internet date ever, I was so excited because he seemed so interesting and handsome, but 30 seconds into the date I already knew I wasn't attracted to him. Somehow the picture just did him too much justice! An important note: I am dubious of any professionally taken photo that is simply too perfect. I mean how many doctors and accountants really have six packs and a set of headshots?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Remember that many dating sites are fairly transparent. That means that everyone can see what you're up to on there - like when you last logged in, if you've clicked on someone's profile, etc. That said, if you are dating someone, don't forget that they can see that you are still trolling around for dates. I have a friend who was driven crazy by the fact that the guy she was dating was still logging on 5 times a day. Obviously not a good sign!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Pick the right site. There are all kinds of sites these days, so make sure you pick one that is well tailored to you. Some sites like eharmony do elaborate personality testing to match you with the right person, but then don't let you narrow the geographic search very much. So if you're someone like me who thinks the Inland Empire and Long Beach might as well be foreign countries, avoid sites like these. Other sites like say nerve and craigslist have a more sexual bent, while at a jdate you have a fairly homogeneous pool. Pick wisely and you are far more likely to find people to your liking. Browse the site a bit before buying in...I've checked out several sites only to see that there was nary an attractive man in site. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Don't forget that people you know will see you on there. People seem to forget that their friends, neighbors and coworkers are all online dating, too, which means that they can see your carefully crafted profile just like everyone else can. So don't lie, and don't say anything embarrassing, and certainly don't think you can get away with cheating on your significant other on a site. My friend was dating a guy from one site. When we ran into him one night, it turned out I actually knew him through friends. I also happened to know he had a girlfriend. How that guy thought he could keep anyone who knew him from seeing him on a major dating site, I'm not sure! My aunt is on another site. She received a letter from a man and thought he looked familiar. A little research reminded her why...he was her friend's husband (present tense!) and was in fact a decade older than he claimed to be! Not only is it just cruel to cheat like this, but it's just plain stupid.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;p&gt;So happy internet surfing, readers! For all of the challenges of online dating, it is an effective way to meet people who have something in common with you, which is more than I can say for every cocktail infused evening out on the town.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Love,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;Biatch&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14065799-112283144480532442?l=lovebiatch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovebiatch.blogspot.com/feeds/112283144480532442/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14065799&amp;postID=112283144480532442&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default/112283144480532442'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default/112283144480532442'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovebiatch.blogspot.com/2005/07/finding-love-in-your-bunny-slippers.html' title='Finding love in your bunny slippers (aka the secrets to internet dating)'/><author><name>Biatch</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00435757105920169074</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14065799.post-112260515208674804</id><published>2005-07-28T19:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-28T19:45:52.093-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Cocktail Hour</title><content type='html'>Like every good LA single girl, I am constantly trying to find new and exciting ways to make myself more attractive to the opposite sex. This includes very expensive facials, eye brow sculpting in Beverly Hills and a personal trainer. And of course I am on the constant quest for a way to eat tasty food and yet stay my lovely slim self. Now I'm not willing to give up the delights of chocolate or a tasty burger permanently, so I'm looking for more of a quick fix. I've tried it all - Atkins (lasted a week, lost 5 pounds), the Zone Home Delivery (lasted a month and lost 0 pounds but cheated quite a bit), Slimfast (worked like a charm, but tell me, how many fricking chocolate shakes can one girl drink and not go insane?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here's the problem, every diet out there requires no alcohol for at least 2 weeks. I am a single woman in Los Angeles and thus giving up alcohol is obviously IMPOSSIBLE. I try to explain this to my personal trainer who is determined for me to go on South Beach, which of course requires no alcohol, but he doesn't doesn't understand. How is a girl supposed to date without the benefit of the odd cocktail?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First of all, there's the hunt for the man, which more often than not takes place at a bar or a party. Somehow being on the prowl at the latest LA hotspot loses its luster without a cocktail (how can I deny the delicious pleasures of a Shikomi cocktail at Geisha House or a simple G&amp;T at Tropicana Bar?) Not to mention accepting a drink from a guy is all part of the dating ritual.  If that drink is a diet coke, he (wrongly) assumes you are not fun. Believe me, I'm fun, cocktail or not, but new fellas don't realize.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Second of all, what's a lovely first or second date dinner without some wine? If I turn down wine when he offers, that means he can't get a bottle either, and where are we then? Staring across a table each other, disappointment in the air!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And of course if you don't drink during the dating ritual, you inevitably get the question WHY you aren't drinking. And ladies, let me tell you, admitting you are dieting wins you NO points with guys. First off, it somehow implies that perhaps you are overweight (he thinks it even if his own eyes tell him you're not!). I'm sure you know this is not a thought you want in his head. And of course it somehow suggests you are high maintenance or vain (which you are of course, but that shouldn't be revealed just yet!).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So ladies of the world unite. Don't listen to those silly diet gurus when they say you can't drink! My guess is that all the people who create these diets are A) Married B) Very, very old. Thus they clearly don't understand the perils of being a single woman! And I'd rather be happily dating and imbibing than movie star skinny anyway!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;Biatch&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS...if you don't drink, please write in to explain to me how your dating ritual works?!? Me and the South Beach diet people would like to know.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14065799-112260515208674804?l=lovebiatch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovebiatch.blogspot.com/feeds/112260515208674804/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14065799&amp;postID=112260515208674804&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default/112260515208674804'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default/112260515208674804'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovebiatch.blogspot.com/2005/07/cocktail-hour_112260515208674804.html' title='Cocktail Hour'/><author><name>Biatch</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00435757105920169074</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14065799.post-112244461525805365</id><published>2005-07-26T20:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-26T23:29:23.900-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Batting Practice</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Dear Biatch,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I was dating this guy "Eric" off and on for 8 years. For the last 2, we were living together. In September, he admitted to me that he was "talking" behind my back to a casual friend of mine.&lt;/em&gt; &lt;em&gt;I freaked! A month later I broke into his email since I still didn't trust him. I found an email he sent saying he thought he was in love with a friend of his. I couldn't believe it! I confronted him with it, and he begged forgiveness and said he had written it when he was confused.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I felt like I needed to talk to someone, so I told our friend "James" about the situation. In the midst of venting about my boyfriend, I made an off-hand comment about how small Eric's penis is. Now the thing is, James and Eric work together. So a few weeks later when James and Eric got into a fight at work, James made a crack about his tiny penis. Eric went nuts on me when he got home, and we ended up breaking up.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Months later, Eric begged for me back. A few days ago, he made a comment about how he was so glad we are together again, and he's so happy he decided to give me a second chance. What?! I never asked for a second chance! He begged me, not the other way around!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;So I love him, but in the back of my mind I hate him. I let his comment go because I didn't want to fight, but Biatch, there are some days where I just want to strike him with a bat. Should I continue with this man and believe him? Or should I open my eyes and move on?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Lisa&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Lisa,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I just want to strike him with a bat." Do you even need to ask if you should be with him? Now I know we all get angry sometimes and say things we don't mean, but all I hear in this letter is an undercurrent of outright loathing!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This guy doesn't sound like much of a prize...he talked to your friend behind your back, he thought he loved someone else...and worse yet, he has a small penis? Yikes! It's hard to end things...often because doing so requires us to admit we have been wasting time. Even harder is facing the prospect of starting over again. Believe me dating anew can suck, but it's worth it in the end. Effectively you are throwing good time after bad. The longer you stay with him, the more time you are wasting. It doesn't justify the time you already wasted, it only adds to it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, here's the thing. It wasn't technically right for you to read his email. That's a breach of trust, and if you were at the point where you trusted him that little, you really shouldn't have been with him. But in this case, given what you found, there's no use dwelling on that. Just remember in the future, not to make that kind of behavior a habit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If guys heard the kind of stuff we say behind their backs when we're angry, they'd die of embarrassment. Calling Eric out on his miniscule bits and bobs was nothing compared to some of the stuff you could have said. So it was totally out of line for James to betray your trust and tell Eric what you said. If I were you, I wouldn't be trusting James again any time soon! That said, you do see that it wasn't the brightest thing for you to share that little morsel with one of his coworkers, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lisa, it sounds like this has been going down hill for a while. There is no trust, and he and you are clearly not on the same page about the current situation. It sounds like you are much better off cutting your losses and moving on than you would be sticking around and trying to convince him that it was really all his fault. Go find yourself a man who you can trust and not beat the bejeesus out of with a bat!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;Biatch&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14065799-112244461525805365?l=lovebiatch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovebiatch.blogspot.com/feeds/112244461525805365/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14065799&amp;postID=112244461525805365&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default/112244461525805365'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default/112244461525805365'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovebiatch.blogspot.com/2005/07/batting-practice.html' title='Batting Practice'/><author><name>Biatch</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00435757105920169074</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14065799.post-112207455345345110</id><published>2005-07-25T23:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-26T14:44:17.430-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Comme les Francaises</title><content type='html'>My French guy friend says to me the other day that the French just don't date the same as American people. Apparently it's delightfully straight-forward. Girl meets boy. There's an instant connection, and they don't play games. Next thing you know, they're a couple. No waiting 3 days to call or just casually dating for months on end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OMG, can I please move to France right this instant! Seriously, other than smelling like cheese and body odor, the French sound perfect.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why is it that we Americans feel compelled to make dating so complicated? Maybe we should all do ourselves a favor and simplify. Wouldn't we all be happier and save a ton of our valuable time if we just cut the crap?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5 Ways to be More French&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;Men, don't wait 2-3 days to call. If you like her, call her the next day. It won't kill you, and it might just make her day!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Be intense. It's ok to gaze longingly into someone's eyes once in a while. If you both like each other, why not admit it?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Surrender...The French are famous for it! In this case, though, surrender to romance...instead of playing it cool, be a hopeless romantic for once! It's ok to be hopeful no matter how many times you've been burned&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Speed the process up. It shouldn't take you months to figure out if someone is worth being your girl/boyfriend. If you are that unsure if someone is right for you, they probably aren't. Stop wasting your time trying to figure out something you already know! And if you are sure, then don't hide it just because you're playing it cool.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Armpit shaving is optional&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;p&gt;Alas, all of these methods may not really play in our over complicated dating world, but a girl can dream, right?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Au revoir, mes amis...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Love,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;Biatch&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14065799-112207455345345110?l=lovebiatch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovebiatch.blogspot.com/feeds/112207455345345110/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14065799&amp;postID=112207455345345110&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default/112207455345345110'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default/112207455345345110'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovebiatch.blogspot.com/2005/07/comme-les-francaises.html' title='Comme les Francaises'/><author><name>Biatch</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00435757105920169074</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14065799.post-112219612542580044</id><published>2005-07-24T23:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-25T23:54:34.883-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Just say no</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Dear Biatch,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I was dating a super hot guy for a couple of months. When we spent our first night together nothing happened because 1. I'm a virgin and 2. I asked him to get tested first. He seemed to understand on both accounts and said he had no problem getting tested. (This guy has a wild sexual past, by the way)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So just about 1 week before he's due to get his test results, he broke up with me telling me I'm no fun in the sex department, that I'm too uptight and risk-averse, blah blah blah. I wonder how can he conclude that if we never had sex in the first place? So I told him "just give me the test results and then we'll roll around and have as much sex as we want", and that I wanted him to be my first, and that I find him very attractive. He still said no, that he doesn't see me as a long term relationship kind of thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I only wanted this guy to be my first and to play with, not to marry, so I have no problem making this into a no strings attached just for fun sex thing. But I'm broken up at the moment (for the strange reasons I just wrote above). What should I do? Do I just show up one day at his house and seduce him? Even without the test results, assuming I use a condom? Or is that too risky?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do you think?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Meredith&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Meredith,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NO, NO, NO, NO, NO. Under no circumstances should this jerk be your first time. Believe it or not, your first time really is something that sticks with you for the rest of your life. It should not be with someone who has already stated that he doesn't want to be with you, no matter how hot he is! The fact that you say your broken up suggests that you have emotions tied up in this, which is of course completely natural. But that also means you can't be too cavalier about losing your virginity, or else you'll get hurt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was unfair of him to say that you are no fun in bed simply because you wanted to wait until you had test results in hand, meaning he's either 1) too dumb to realize you were just being responsible and that you are in fact a wild little minx (I mean you did offer to "roll around" with him!) or 2) he's just using it as an excuse to get out of the relationship. Either way, he's not worth your while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There will be other hot guys, and one of these hot guys will actually be the kind of guy you can remember fondly. Consider yourself lucky that this guy saved you the trouble of remembering his sorry ass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;Biatch&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS...sadly a girl's first time is rarely all that fun because it's a fairly painful endeavor, so unless you were planning on a long running "just for fun" situation, you wouldn't get much out of the deal anyway! I say wait for someone you can really enjoy it with.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14065799-112219612542580044?l=lovebiatch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovebiatch.blogspot.com/feeds/112219612542580044/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14065799&amp;postID=112219612542580044&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default/112219612542580044'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default/112219612542580044'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovebiatch.blogspot.com/2005/07/just-say-no.html' title='Just say no'/><author><name>Biatch</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00435757105920169074</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14065799.post-112008599410363376</id><published>2005-07-24T03:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-25T09:04:42.703-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Love, Biatch</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Dear readers,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Who am I to be doling out love advice? I'm not married, I'm not a therapist and I've had my fair share of heartache. You want therapy, get your wallet out and call a shrink. But if what you're after is no nonsense, no holds barred, hurt-so-good tough love, than I'm your gal. I've lived and learned...school of hard knocks and all that. By my calculations, my friends and I have dated nearly the entire free world (or at least those in major urban centers), so there's a pretty good chance I know your pain. If like most ladies I know, your love life is in shambles and every day holds a new drama, let me know. You might not like my answer, but I promise it'll be brutally honest and honed from years of my own dating tragedies. Reach me at &lt;a href="mailto:lovebiatch05@yahoo.com"&gt;lovebiatch05@yahoo.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;Biatch&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. Just because I haven't settled down doesn't mean I don't know what I'm talking about. Maybe I'm a masochist and continue dating for sport. Enough about me, let's focus on you...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14065799-112008599410363376?l=lovebiatch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovebiatch.blogspot.com/feeds/112008599410363376/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14065799&amp;postID=112008599410363376&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default/112008599410363376'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default/112008599410363376'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovebiatch.blogspot.com/2005/07/love-biatch.html' title='Love, Biatch'/><author><name>Biatch</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00435757105920169074</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14065799.post-112214393480871972</id><published>2005-07-23T11:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-24T19:04:32.656-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Deal Breakers</title><content type='html'>Dear readers,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I once dated a guy who seemed pretty great. That is until he provided me with WAY too much information about his intestinal distress and worse yet, used my bathroom to deal with it. That was our last date! Shallow of me? Yes, of course, but we all have our idiosyncratic deal breakers. Those things that just make us cringe, that we simply can't get past. Maybe I could have dealt with that guy's yucky stomach problems had we been dating longer when it reared it's ugly head, but at the beginning, it was a fatal death blow to our burgeoning relationship.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The following are some of my other deal breakers that have killed past relationships...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Temper tantrums (so unappealing on a man!)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Hypochondriac&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Consistent sexual dysfunction&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Creepy baby talk voice&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Living in the Valley/Geographically undesirable&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Bloody Jesus tattoos&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;His secret preference for other men&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;What's a girl to do?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;Readers...what our your deal breakers? Write in and tell me and I'll post the results!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Love,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;Biatch&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14065799-112214393480871972?l=lovebiatch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovebiatch.blogspot.com/feeds/112214393480871972/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14065799&amp;postID=112214393480871972&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default/112214393480871972'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default/112214393480871972'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovebiatch.blogspot.com/2005/07/deal-breakers.html' title='Deal Breakers'/><author><name>Biatch</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00435757105920169074</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14065799.post-112198879483729400</id><published>2005-07-22T01:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-23T02:14:36.833-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Toning it down</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Dear Biatch,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went on a date with a GORGEOUS man that I met in Vegas. We had an EXCELLENT time. In fact, it was so HOT that we had sex practically in the first 20 minutes of the date. But now I'm CONFUSED because, it's like, I've never heard from the guy since. I mean, it's not like I'm a WHORE... I insisted that we leave the theater before things got TOO CRAZY. What gives?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Mia&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Mia,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How very Alanis Morrisette of you! Unfortunately once men get what they want (which initially is nearly always sex), they often don't stick around for much else. I know how it can be - you meet someone and there's such an overwhelming attraction that you can 't help yourself. It's not as if you're giving in (which is never good in book) but rather you're doing what feels natural. Sadly we can't always do what we want to do. I like to eat chocolate like it's my job, and yet if I do it too much, I'm going to get fat. So instead sometimes I deny myself the chocolate I so badly want.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't say it enough, YOU ARE ALWAYS BETTER OFF WAITING. No matter how hot it is, if you don't know him, you have no way of predicting if you are ever going to hear from him again. It's a choice you make - if you don't care whether he calls, then have that hot sex! But clearly that's not the case here. Next time, try to at least tone it down a notch..perhaps some groping instead of sex? Even better just a really hot snog...you'd be amazed how erotic that alone can be. And it leaves that much more anticipation for next time. Of course, there's still no guarantee that you'll ever hear from him. Perhaps this guy wouldn't have called you regardless - who knows? All I do know, is that you might not feel quite as bad if you hadn't let it get so far. So protect your feelings a bit and leave him wanting more!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;Biatch&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14065799-112198879483729400?l=lovebiatch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovebiatch.blogspot.com/feeds/112198879483729400/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14065799&amp;postID=112198879483729400&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default/112198879483729400'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default/112198879483729400'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovebiatch.blogspot.com/2005/07/toning-it-down.html' title='Toning it down'/><author><name>Biatch</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00435757105920169074</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14065799.post-112198884041381911</id><published>2005-07-21T23:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-21T23:27:31.443-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Preemptive strike</title><content type='html'>Dear Readers,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight I got dumped. Yes, even love gurus get rejected! So why aren't I drowning my tears in a bottle of pinot noir? Because I was actually planning on dumping him today. Yes, that's right...I got preemptively dumped! I had a feeling it was coming this morning. I'd known for a couple of weeks that it wasn't going anywhere, but it was fun enough so I figured I'd see it through a bit longer. But this week, he'd been acting strange, too. Apparently I wasn't the only one who thought it was over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The worst part is - it actually hurt my feelings that he didn't want to see me anymore...even though I didn't want to see him anymore! We are strange creatures indeed! But in reality, it makes sense. We all want to be loved by others...even those we don't love back. How am I coping? I've made plans to fill up the time I was saving for him this weekend, I deleted his phone number from my cell phone (a favorite post breakup ritual of mine), and I am looking forward to trashing the t-shirt he left here. We all have our coping methods! If you're in this situation, find a method that does NOT involve crying or the fetal position.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In honor of the preemptive dumping, I give you a list of the things I would have like to have told him but was too classy to...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;Health food store deodorant just ain't the same as regular deodorant. I could smell you even at a distance.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;A tattoo of a crucified, bleeding Jesus is simply not normal, particularly for a guy who claims not to be religious. It's hard to feel sexual when Jesus is staring up at you from your man's bicep. Whatever your excuse is, it's not good enough. Weird, just weird.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;You are simply too old to have such a crappy job. Newsflash: women like ambition. You don't have to be rich, but for the love of God, do something with your life.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;When you are the kind of guy who never has any plans, would it kill you to make advance plans with your gal? What are you worried is going to come up...a Real World marathon?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Manscaping - it's not rocket science. Figure it out.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;You remember that one time...? I faked it.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;p&gt;Amazing that after you break up with someone, you can come up with so many things that are wrong with them? Perhaps we need to take a long hard look at the people we are dating to ensure we aren't settling and simply sweeping their faults under the rug. I mean seriously, was I (a rather fabulous lady) really expecting to stick with a guy with smelly pits? So au revoir, Jesus boy...on to bigger and better things.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Love,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;Biatch&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14065799-112198884041381911?l=lovebiatch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovebiatch.blogspot.com/feeds/112198884041381911/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14065799&amp;postID=112198884041381911&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default/112198884041381911'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default/112198884041381911'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovebiatch.blogspot.com/2005/07/preemptive-strike.html' title='Preemptive strike'/><author><name>Biatch</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00435757105920169074</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14065799.post-112009507034426157</id><published>2005-07-21T19:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-21T18:20:34.946-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dropping Trou</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;In the spirit of honesty, I thought I should lead off with one of my own dating experiences. Below is the actual email I sent afterwards to my girlfriends...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;My date last night was so bad...Comically, definitely going to remember it forever bad. I went out with the studly Australian spy who I met a few months back when he was in town on business. It started out so well, I mean I had gone out with him twice previously so it's not like he was a stranger. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;The real problem came after the date. Back in my car we start kissing. Now mind you, he is a big time hunk, tall and muscular, slightly scruffy...Very sexy, and he's a great kisser to boot. So all of that is going well and then all of the sudden he whips off his pants, grabs my hand, licks it and puts it on his knob. I kid you not...I looked at him like you must be kidding! We are on a fairly trafficked residential street in my car, and we'd hardly been making out yet so a hand job wasn't exactly on the table!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I get myself out of that little situation and chalk it up to cultural differences. I drive him back to his hotel and he insists that I at least come in for a cup of coffee, and he insists his pants will stay on this time. So against my better judgment (apparently I have very little judgment) I let myself be persuaded. We go in and all I can think about is 1) he is way bigger than me, so if he wants something he could just take it 2) he works in intelligence and likely has access to all variety of drugs and could drug my coffee and molest me in a variety of unpleasant ways. Apparently I have watched too much Alias, but seriously this is what I was thinking. So he's acting pleasant enough, just trying to kiss me and behaving himself a bit better. But then, brace yourself, he grabs me turns me around and tries to spank me. I was wiggling like a maniac to get out of his grasp because you better believe I was not going to be receiving any spankings!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tell him at this point that I really must go, but he keeps insisting I must at least have the coffee he is making. Again sirens are going off in my mind because he is so keen to get me to drink the coffee! So he gets up to get the coffee, acting as if it isn't strange one bit that he just tried to spank me, saying only, "well you make me so horny, I can't help it." I take like 1 baby sip of the coffee and throw half of it in the sink when he's not looking. I go to leave and he grabs me to kiss him again. once again the pants come flying off (perhaps the zipper was defective?), and no lie he starts whacking off and trying to kiss me. I say only "you must be kidding" and I actually laugh right in his face. I am trying to squirm away and he starts to try to angle me such that he can actually attempt to giz on me. I couldn't make this stuff up! I shout, "there is no way in hell you are going to do that all over me," and he said "what do you think I am going to do? I wouldn't do anything you don't want." So apparently I must have had a look on my face that said please shoot your wad on me and my cashmere sweater...that's the kind of girl I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So at this point I am oh so keen to get the hell out dodge, dry cleaning bill safely averted. He begs, yes begs me to help him out before I go. I tell him, "why don't you just think about me really hard after I leave and whack off. I am sure that would be faster than me doing it anyway." He then walks me back out to my car, and seems strangely unembarrassed by the fact that I have openly laughed at him and rejected all of his advances. This is the same guy who was so sweet before and wrote me nice emails for months. Apparently spies don't score enough so he was hard up? james bond didn't have these kinds of problems.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Safely ensconced in the old Volkswagen I start cruising back to my hood, and I get a message on my phone saying, "Hi, it's Clayton (the perverted Australian's name FYI) I would be willing to spend the night at your place and just take a taxi home tomorrow, no worries for you. So maybe that could work. I mean if not, then no worries but just wanted to check." Have they no shame in Australia? This guy was so hard up that clearly no amount of rejection was going to stop him. So I turned around and picked him back up....Just kidding...Of course I didn't do that...I am only so crazy! I drove home thankful to be done with that with nothing worse than a saliva covered palm and thank god nothing worse!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what lessons did I learn from this delightful evening out?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;Trust your instincts. If it strikes you as odd that your date has just removed his pants for no reason, it is probably because that is in fact an odd thing to do.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;People can hide crazy early on. Just because a guy seems great for a couple dates doesn't mean he is not a trou dropping, hand licking, sweater ruining maniac. Adjust your expectations accordingly. If a guy turns out not to be what you expected him to be, don't hold on to the long lost ideal of what you thought he was. Accept his newly revealed insanity at face value.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;Men live in a dream world. The male ego is a strange thing. It is seemingly impervious to such humiliations as being laughed at and repeatedly rejected. You might as well be honest with him because he likely won't get his feelings hurt.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;Cut your losses. If you ignore lesson 1, at least follow this guideline. If a relationship (or a date) keeps getting worse and worse, don't wait for it to hit rock bottom. Get the hell out of dodge before it gets worse than you can handle or worse yet, ruins your fabulous new cashmere sweater.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;Being horny is not an excuse for acting like a freak. I like to think I've made other men horny in their time, and yet none of them tried to forcibly spank me on our 3rd date. It is also not an excuse for begging. That's simply embarrassing for everyone involved. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;Do not, I repeat DO NOT give in to uncomfortable requests simply to avoid confrontation. I know some girls who prefer to just suck it up (so to speak) and put out to avoid humiliating the guy. I say humiliate away. As I said in #3, he won't realize he's been humiliated anyway.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;Australian men are strange. This is not an absolute fact but it's a theory I stand behind.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;Never date a guy who says he's a spy. It somehow sounded believable at the time, but in hindsight, he &lt;em&gt;might&lt;/em&gt; have made part up to impress me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14065799-112009507034426157?l=lovebiatch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovebiatch.blogspot.com/feeds/112009507034426157/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14065799&amp;postID=112009507034426157&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default/112009507034426157'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default/112009507034426157'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovebiatch.blogspot.com/2005/07/dropping-trou.html' title='Dropping Trou'/><author><name>Biatch</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00435757105920169074</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14065799.post-112184256041500261</id><published>2005-07-20T23:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-21T18:25:39.526-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Disappointment Take 2</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Dear Biatch,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am dating this guy Chris. He literally swept me off my feet! It's only been a few months, but we've already talked about getting married. But here's the thing - lately I am noticing some things about him. Like he still has all of his ex-wife's stuff laying around - even things like her bath sponge and post it notes she had written. They got divorced over a year ago?! And he drinks a bit too much. This stuff has been stressing me, so we've been fighting a lot the last month, but Chris really is great, and he said he wanted to marry me. What gives?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Delana&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Delana,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want you to read the email you sent me again and again until it sinks in. Chris is the kind of guy who can't bear to throw away his ex's funky, moldy sponge. Ewwww! Now he may in fact be a good guy, but at least acknowledge to yourself that he is at least a smidgen freaky.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You sound a bit stuck on the fact that he said he wanted to marry you. People can say anything. It's not hard. Watch - I am going to make Ewan McGregor my love slave. Now I may want to do that, but am I really going to do that? No. Early on, your better off to take grand promises with a grain of salt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Disappointment comes in many forms. In this case, Chris doesn't sound like he is what you thought he was. As I've said before, anyone can be charming for a couple of months. Here's the real question - how long has Chris been upsetting you for? If it's longer than he actually made you happy in the first place, maybe it's time to pack it in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's hard to admit that you were wrong. We hate nothing more than realizing that the person we fell for doesn't even exist. Don't kick yourself though, since we can hardly be expected to navigate our way through all the crap Lover Boys shovel on us right at first. Just be aware of changes in your man's behavior, and be ready to acknowledge that you were wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All that said, perhaps you should accept Chris warts and all. Do you think his problems are fixable? Is he responsive to your efforts to communicate your feelings about these things? Are you still more happy than unhappy? if the answers to these questions are yes, then it might be worth putting in the extra effort. Unfortunately the reality is that no man is as great as he seems in those first blissful months (and hard as it is to admit, neither are we!).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So Delana, only you know if his issues are ones you can overcome. Either move on and deal with the ensuing disappointment or work on adapting your expectations. Find a trash bag for that nasty sponge and offer him a cold O'Douls when he gets home from work!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;Biatch&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14065799-112184256041500261?l=lovebiatch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovebiatch.blogspot.com/feeds/112184256041500261/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14065799&amp;postID=112184256041500261&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default/112184256041500261'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default/112184256041500261'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovebiatch.blogspot.com/2005/07/disappointment-take-2.html' title='Disappointment Take 2'/><author><name>Biatch</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00435757105920169074</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14065799.post-112132415371023381</id><published>2005-07-18T23:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-21T18:23:26.480-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Leopard Print Disaster</title><content type='html'>A true story (names have been changed to protect the innocent)...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She rushes home from work worried she won't make it in time. She's running late, and Boy might just beat her to her apartment. Thankfully she pulls into her parking lot just in time to enact her plan. The previous weekend She bought a particularly sexy new pair of underwear, and she was eager to surprise Boy. Things had been a bit strained between them, and She figured showing up at the door in leopard print panties might just smooth things over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She even has time to drag a brush through her hair and spray on some perfume before she hears the knock at her door. One last glance at her outfit - perfect! She pulls open the door slowly, giving Boy a good long look at her gorgeous half naked self. Images of rapturous love making fill her mind. He'll scoop her up and carry her immediately to the bedroom, and all the stress of the last week will melt away. Boy looks surprised to see her at the door in lingerie. He comes in, hugs her, plants a rather loveless kiss on her lips. "Wow," he says. "You look sexy." She notes that he has neither bothered to brush his teeth or his hair before arriving but decides that those are minor points.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She smiles with expectation for what comes next, the passionate kiss, breathless whisper in her ear that he must have her now. But no. Boy releases her from his embrace, walks into the kitchen to put down his bag of groceries. He turns around to her and says, "So how was work?" She is perplexed, can this really be happening? She stands in the doorway a moment longer, uncertain what to do next. Perhaps he's being coy? She cocks her hip to the side and says in her most sultry voice, "Well that wasn't quite the response I was looking for." It's his chance to give her a sly grin and proceed to the mind blowing sex portion of the evening. But it's not meant to be. Instead, Boy looks at her blankly and says, "What reaction were you looking for?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She is now at a complete loss for words. How could a brand new pair of gorgeous panties not raise his temperature a few degrees? How could the mere sight of so much newly tanned flesh not inspire more than insipid conversation? She sulks into her room remarking over her shoulder, "oh I guess I should put some clothes on." She walks to her room, and in a huff puts on her most defiantly unsexy granny panties, jeans and an old t-shirt. She walks back out to the kitchen uncertain how to proceed. Unable to engage in light banter, she sets about preparing dinner. Now its Boy's turn to be confused. He looks at her and asks, "Did I miss something?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did you? Did you?!? Oh the tragedy! Honestly, I'm not sure there is much of a moral to this sad, sad story...Just thought it merited sharing. If nothing else, it reminds us that men are unbelievably dense and that we are no alone in our dating disasters. Apparently no hint is strong enough for some guys. Thus, we can't take it too personally when they simply don't "get it." Just because Boy didn't give her the reaction she wanted, it doesn't necessarily mean he doesn't like her or think she's hot. It could just mean he has the IQ of a rutabaga. We look fabulous in our sexy lingerie, and men are fools if they don't acknowledge it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;Biatch&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14065799-112132415371023381?l=lovebiatch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovebiatch.blogspot.com/feeds/112132415371023381/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14065799&amp;postID=112132415371023381&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default/112132415371023381'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default/112132415371023381'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovebiatch.blogspot.com/2005/07/leopard-print-disaster.html' title='A Leopard Print Disaster'/><author><name>Biatch</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00435757105920169074</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14065799.post-112120052827656410</id><published>2005-07-13T23:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-21T18:24:00.320-07:00</updated><title type='text'>An open letter</title><content type='html'>Dear J,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You don't know me, but I certainly know you. Why you ask? Because I have spent hours counseling my lovely friend Delia to help her get over you. Because Delia will never tell you, I thought I should...you suck. And not just a little...you suck in a profound, I'd rather get a paper cut on my tongue than have to hear one more word about you hurting my friend's feelings kind of way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"But I've done nothing wrong," you think. Au Contraire Jerkoff...you have innumerable sins of the most insidious variety. You are never so cruel that she officially kicks your lame ass to the curb, but you are just horrid enough that you cause nights of tears and self doubt. And quite frankly, J, you are a waste of my time. Maybe you've got Delia fooled, but not me. I know you're kind. You're a user and worse yet, you are simply not a nice person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some of the many reasons I loathe you:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;You use guilt to get what you want. Only losers have to guilt someone into sex.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Ever hear the phrase "no use crying over spilled milk?" You freaked out over spilled water. Literally a glass of spilled water . Granted it was spilled on your computer, but still no excuse. Delia's feelings are worth more than any object, but clearly you don't have any regard for them.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;You have no manners. You IM her and then just disappear mid conversation. Didn't your momma train you right?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;You take advantage of her kindness. Delia is one of the sweetest people I know. Instead of treating her with the same kind of warmth, you have seized on her good nature at every opportunity. What kind of guy lets a girl help him move and then treats her like garbage? A pretty crappy one if you ask me.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;p&gt;Here's some news for you, J, I hear you aren't even good in bed. So not only are you a bad guy, but you can't even offer good sex. I mock you and so will all the ladies I tell!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;J, do yourself and me a favor, disappear from Delia's life. She is a lovely, smart, kind girl, and she is too good for you. You demand too much and offer far too little. She deserves better, and I won't rest until I make sure she gets it. I have better things to think about than you (should I get a pedicure? How can something as good as an almond joy be so bad for me? Is it 6 yet?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So piss of J...Delia and I are moving on...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;Biatch&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14065799-112120052827656410?l=lovebiatch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovebiatch.blogspot.com/feeds/112120052827656410/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14065799&amp;postID=112120052827656410&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default/112120052827656410'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default/112120052827656410'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovebiatch.blogspot.com/2005/07/open-letter.html' title='An open letter'/><author><name>Biatch</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00435757105920169074</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14065799.post-112114904570848205</id><published>2005-07-11T23:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-13T11:38:45.543-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Venting on Disappointment</title><content type='html'>Dear Readers,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some people are just one big fat disappointment. You know who I'm talking about. It's that guy who you meet who has so much promise but turns out to be an utter disaster. At first he seems amazing, but a few weeks or a few months in, you realize...he's nothing like you thought. Rather, he's just a big f*ing disappointment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I know this pain, better than most. I've met some serious disappointments in my time. Some are like David, and they seem like they are everything you were ever looking for. Others are like Juan and there is so much build up and initial flirting that you're sure if you ever go out, it'll be magic. Regardless, these guys are a figment of your imagination. Anyone, and I mean anyone, can be wonderful for a few dates. Even Ted Bundy was charming at first!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nothing hurts worse than disappointment. So be strong and protect your hearts, ladies. Don't believe the hype. It's ok to be hopeful about someone, but don't blind yourself to the signs that Lover Boy is NOT in fact as good as he at first seemed! We often stick it out way longer than we should simply because we are so damned hopeful that this crappy behavior is the anomaly and that Lover Boy is in fact the delightful guy he seemed to be at first.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A rule of thumb to live by: If Lover Boy has been crap for more dates than he's been great, accept that you were wrong about him and cut your losses. Remember it's not your fault that you saw the best in him...it's his fault for not being able to really be that man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;Biatch&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14065799-112114904570848205?l=lovebiatch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default/112114904570848205'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default/112114904570848205'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovebiatch.blogspot.com/2005/07/venting-on-disappointment.html' title='Venting on Disappointment'/><author><name>Biatch</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00435757105920169074</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14065799.post-112024289694752456</id><published>2005-07-02T11:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-02T08:04:46.986-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mad Hots</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Dear Biatch,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I have the mad hots for a guy I met last week. Am I a ho if I sleep with him?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Danielle&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Danielle,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hooking up with a new guy is AOK as long as you don't expect anything else from him. I've said before to hold off on sex, but that's only when the guy is someone you want a future with. In this scenario, it sounds like Danielle's interest is more physical than anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Putting out just for fun is not only tolerated in my book, it's encouraged! It might actually serve to make your loins that much less fiery when Mr. Right comes along. Of course, this is all assuming that you WANT to hook up with him. You should never give in to pressure...this is what you want you little minx!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5 Scenarios in which putting out just for fun is encouraged:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;You have nothing in common except for a mutual lust&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He's an idiot, but damn he's hot&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;You're in a foreign country, so he's hot...with an accent!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He's famous (trust me, it makes a great story)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He's too young for you (but of legal age of course), and did I mention he's hot?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;p&gt;Of course always be safe regardless of who he is. For those who call you a ho...they're just jealous. I call you sexually adventurous!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Love,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;Biatch&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14065799-112024289694752456?l=lovebiatch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default/112024289694752456'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default/112024289694752456'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovebiatch.blogspot.com/2005/07/mad-hots.html' title='Mad Hots'/><author><name>Biatch</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00435757105920169074</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14065799.post-112023874980719939</id><published>2005-07-01T22:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-21T18:24:11.646-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Is it HIM?</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Dear Biatch,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I just a met a new guy a month ago. He seems like he could be the man of my dreams. Do you think I could know that so soon?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Kelly&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kelly,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you meet a guy and you are immediately picking out your china patterns and thinking about how Lover Boy Jr. will have his eyes and your fabulous hair, you are setting yourself up for disaster. We all do it - we are so hopeful that we'll know HIM when we see HIM, that we imagine that every seemingly quality guy we meet is HIM.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just like he doesn't know you at first, you don't know him. He could be hiding the crazy. He could have a hidden temper. He could be just plain dull after the initial excitement wears off. You just don't know, so don't put too high of expectations on him too soon. It's great to be excited, but if you build him up too much, he's unlikely to be able to live up to your lofty expectations.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;David seemed perfect to my friend Alexis. He was handsome, successful, interesting and funny. She was ready to walk down the aisle about a week into knowing him (and said as much to her friends). Two months into knowing him she realized he was THE WORST hookup of all time (no seriously, the worst. I took a survey.) Fortunately she had followed my advice and didn't put out too soon, so the discovery of his ineptitude was quite a shock to poor Alexis. However, the complete inability to please a woman is a deal breaker in her book (and should be in yours, too!), so she realized there simply wasn't a future for them. You can teach a boy new tricks, but you can't teach a 29 year old man that everything he has ever thought he was doing right is in fact horrifyingly WRONG. So David went from future husband to has-been pseudo boyfriend in 2 months flat. A clear indication that at the beginning you simply don't know what his real potential is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kelly, Lover Boy here may be The One. Let's hope he is. But you don't do yourself or him any favors by thinking about that right now. Just luxuriate in the beginnings of a great relationship. You have the rest of your life to figure out if he's sticking around for good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;Biatch&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14065799-112023874980719939?l=lovebiatch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovebiatch.blogspot.com/feeds/112023874980719939/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14065799&amp;postID=112023874980719939&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default/112023874980719939'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default/112023874980719939'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovebiatch.blogspot.com/2005/07/is-it-him.html' title='Is it HIM?'/><author><name>Biatch</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00435757105920169074</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14065799.post-112023797549618204</id><published>2005-06-30T21:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-05T20:03:55.026-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Putting Out</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Dear Biatch,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I'm dating a new guy who I really like. When is it ok to sleep with him?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Beth&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, Beth, it's pretty simple.  For now, keep you pants zipped!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you truly like a man, and you want him to stick around, waiting at least a little while is advisable. We all know that early on a man has one thing and one thing only on his mind. If you make him wait long enough, he'll accidentally get to know you in the process of getting into your pants. If you give in too soon, and he's gotten what he wants before he has time to notice how cute your laugh is or to find out that you have a fascinating perspective on global warming, then he might move on to a new conquest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;S0 how long is long enough? It all depends on circumstances, but aim for a month or two. No one can really get to know you any faster than that, so why rush it? Plus, people appreciate things more when they really have to work for them. If your pants fall off without the slightest provocation, he's not going to feel like he earned it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So you say you are simply too horny for that? Allow me to direct you to the nearest Hustler store. There are ways to take care of an active libido that don't involve putting out too soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Beth if you really like this guy, keep those loins in check...if he's as great as you think he is, he'll wait for you (at least for a while!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;Biatch&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14065799-112023797549618204?l=lovebiatch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default/112023797549618204'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default/112023797549618204'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovebiatch.blogspot.com/2005/06/putting-out.html' title='Putting Out'/><author><name>Biatch</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00435757105920169074</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14065799.post-112010387105665658</id><published>2005-06-29T20:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-21T18:24:24.500-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Don't Buy the Cow</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Dear Biatch,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I've been dating this guy for a while now. Our first couple dates were great. On our 3rd date, he invited me over to his place to watch a movie, and we ended up having sex. Since then, he never asks me out for weekends and he never actually takes me out. Instead, we always go over to his place and "watch movies." We have a good time, but I worry that this has become an "arrangement" instead of a relationship. What do you think I should do?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;-Olivia&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Olivia,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ever heard the phrase, "why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free?" Well, Olivia, you're the cow. And the milk is your sweet, sweet love. It seems like you know what your problem is here. You have an arrangement. A relationship involves getting to know each other and not just in a carnal way. A few things to remember:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;Men who like you want to see you on weekends. That is prime dating real estate. If he isn't seeing you then, there's a good chance he's seeing someone else then, or he's hoping for something better than you to come up. Either way, that's not good. An ex of mine had a great way of describing this. Girls that were worth a hook up but not a weekend night were known as "Weekday Ho's." Olivia, do you want to be a weekday ho?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Neither having sex nor watching movies involves actually getting to know more about you as a person. If he isn't making an effort to find out more about you - your middle name, your childhood pet, your latest project at work - then he isn't interested in you for your personality. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Who can blame a guy for keeping a girl around who sleeps with him without expecting anything in return? By coming over and sleeping with him, you are reinforcing his behavior. If you want him to date you, you need to start turning him down for these little movie nights. Next time he asks you to come over, suggest going out and grabbing dinner. It'll tell you all you need to know if he balks.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;p&gt;So Olivia, it's time for you to break lover boy out of this routine. If it doesn't work, tell him to shove his arrangement. You're no weekday ho!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Love,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;Biatch&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14065799-112010387105665658?l=lovebiatch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovebiatch.blogspot.com/feeds/112010387105665658/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14065799&amp;postID=112010387105665658&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default/112010387105665658'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14065799/posts/default/112010387105665658'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovebiatch.blogspot.com/2005/06/dont-buy-cow.html' title='Don&apos;t Buy the Cow'/><author><name>Biatch</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00435757105920169074</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
