The media. sigh.

I apologize for my absence lately, but schoolwork has been getting the best of me this last month. And I thought senior year would be easy.

Anyway, for the sake of transparency I should share the fact that in that time I have taken myself back off the market. Or maybe it’s more factual to say my ex finally succeeded in taking me off the market.

So, alas, no more blind date sagas (sad for you, fine with me!). I’m no longer a free woman, but according to my friend Phillip, I’m still the “life of the party.”

Oh yeah — I’ve still got it.

I might have stayed away from blogging longer, but a recent plea for more entries has strengthened me for the task — this one’s for you, Athens Door Guy.

In case I haven’t mentioned this before, I work in a newsroom.

It’s interesting to witness, not only what happens IN the newsroom when people have down time, but especially what happens outside of the newsroom. Because journalists are crazy. I’ll show you what I mean.

Here is an example of a conversation that happened IN the newsroom this week:

Girl — “Hey, do you still have that big box of condoms Trojan sent us?”
Guy — “Um, yeah…”
Second Guy — “That’s awkward.”
Girl — “Can I have some more of those?”
Guy — “I already gave you some.”
Girl — “Well I used them all. Besides, you’re not using them.”
Guy sighs and goes to get them. He throws a few her way.
Guy — “Well, at least someone’s getting some. I’m glad I could sponsor some sex.”

And here is an example of a conversation that happened OUTSIDE the newsroom, but among newsroom regulars:

Guy — “Yeah, we went to Toppers and this girl was dancing on me and I thought, ‘Well, that’s very nice,” and asked her, like, ‘Oh, do you go here?’”

Girl 1 — “Why are you giving me a cupcake?”
Girl 2 — “Because I want you to eat it.”
Guy — “Hahahahaha! I’m writing that on Facebook right now!”
Girl 2 — “It’s really good, just eat it.”
Girl 1 — “I don’t want your cupcake.”
Girl 2 — “Well, SOMEBODY has to eat my cupcake.”
Guy 2 — “Now everyone’s touched it.”

Girl 1 — “Hey, I’ve got a great idea! Let’s make a new sex magazine for Athens and call it Doggy Style!”
Girl 2 — “Ooo, our first cover can be a guy in his whitey-tighties with a happy face drawn on his drawers!”
Girl 3 — “We can review vibrators and stuff.”

On second thought, those are pretty normal conversations for 21-year-olds, journalists or no. I guess this is just a lame tribute to my really funny friends. I hope my next post will be more meaningful.

Dirty Dancing, Indeed

To my deep regret, I stopped into The Loft Friday night.

The spot I once enjoyed (at an earlier time in my life) now offers little more than a sweaty mass of horny freshmen, and no space to move or stand or breathe.

I went to meet up with a group of old high school friends and agreed to dance with one of them, only to discover that dancing with a guy can tell you everything you need to know about what he'll be like in bed.

It's no secret that the dancing we do downtown is just simulated sex, anyway. Like a less-than-complicated mating ritual, we can decide on the spot whether or not it's worth our wild to go home with a guy ... or duck out after one dance.

Because there are no secrets on the dance floor.

We can weed out the assholes and the virgins and the gay guys.

If he's thrusting his crotch around in a lost and confused manner, or if he seems in awe of the fact that a girl is actually willing to rub her ass against his groin for an extended period of time, you've probaby got yourself a grade A virgin.

If he's pounding you mercilessly with his denim cock (to quote Dane Cook) as if he was already doing the deed, he's probably the kind of guy who'd finish in two minutes and then get up and leave, without nary a thought to satisfying your needs.

Because if he doesn't care about your comfort and pleasure on the dance floor, he's going to care even less in bed.

The guy you want is smooth -- he wants to make you comfortable and happy, not get off inside his pants.

His dance style is gentle but firm, and he knows how to put the moves on you without violating your space.

My friend was not this guy.

His dance style -- which amounted to beating me with his crotch -- told me he was both a virgin and a two minute man.

I soon turned tail and moved on in search of better mate material, a little sorer than before.

Athens = Dates-R-Us

Athens is a college town.

You may not appreciate that fact until it’s too late, but let me tell you how fortunate you are to be spending four years (at minimum) of your life in such a place.

Dating will never again be this easy.

I am currently living in a suburb of New York City, where housing is pricey, along with everything else. That means the people who live here and pay those prices are old, married people and their kids.

There is a village up the street from me, not even 5 minutes away, that is very similar to downtown Athens – bars, restaurants, boutiques. It’s very cute, and thriving, except for one thing. The people who frequent it are those very same old, married people and their kids.
It is overrun by the old and the young, but no one in between.

When you go out on a Thursday night in Athens, you can feel confident that the majority of the people you run into at the bars are others students, likely in their early twenties or maybe shy a few years.

That’s what makes a college town so special.

Out here in the “real world,” you’ve got to weed the potentially 20-sometings out of a sea of 30-somethings, their 17-year-old kids and 59-year-old pervs. And no one says you’re going to find what you’re looking for at the end of the night.

I’ve had the hardest time meeting people here, whereas every girl knows how easy it is to go out in Athens and talk to many people and likely have a cute guy buying your drinks by the end of the night. College guys’ desire for hookups – even if you have no intention of relinquishing that privilege – makes it easy to feel confident and spend a night out free of charge.

If you go out alone here, regardless of how hot you are, you may very well stay solo throughout the night. These guys have moved past that crucial hook-up mentality, or so it seems.
To compound the problem, drinks are expensive. Beer is rarely less than $5, and a long island iced tea goes for $10 or more. The guys aren’t exactly reaching for their wallets on the hope you might be worth it.

This is the reason I just can’t take Sex and the City seriously any more – how could they have so many dates??

So enjoy it while it lasts, ladies! Take advantage of penny beer nights, scope the masses of young, available and willing young men at your finger tips in this lovely town de college.

It’ll be over before you know it, and soon you’ll be sitting at a bar, alone, trying to avoid that 59-year-old….