the perfect f-kboy.

I’m going to tell you about the perfect f-kboy. It isn’t an actual person in my life, although there have been some that have encompassed most of these qualities, and inversely some that have shown me what qualities are not ideal for f-kboys.

It goes without saying that I have a boyfriend now and luckily don’t need to deal with f-kboys anymore, and I am glad. But since we’ve all been unleashed into the streets again and the single gals around me have gotten back to “the game”…I’ve been hearing about this and therefore thinking about this and wanted to write it down. Also I have a lot of good/funny/shitty dating stories and why did I endure all that shit for an ENTIRE DECADE if not to document it on the internet as some sort of twisted catharsis.

Maybe this knowledge will also benefit someone out there, but I doubt it, since such lessons can only be learned on one’s own over time, after making many painful and embarrassing mistakes, sending literally thousands of ill-advised drunk text messages, and crying in public.

K here we go. The perfect f-kboy…

1. doesn’t talk.

This is very simple. They don’t talk! Meaning they don’t kiss and tell. They don’t run and tell all of their dude friends about it so you have a whole group of dudes giving you some kind of eye when you walk into a bar. They ALSO don’t go and tell any of their girl friends about it so you don’t get ANOTHER KIND of eye when you walk into a bar.

If you live in a place like Jersey City, which is the second largest city in NJ but also a small town, this discretion is admirable. Everyone is talking, talk talk talking all the time. 15% of what they say is true. But you don’t want to have to deal with the untrue stuff that comes along with it. I mean, I personally don’t give a shit about idle gossip. I grew up in an ACTUAL small town where idle gossip is a way of life and I’m used to it. But I’m giving advice here, so avoid it if possible.

OMG I had never seen this music video and I LOVE IT SO MUCH.

They also don’t put anything on social media that would indicate they know you. Or they don’t even have social media. They definitely do not follow you on social media. The only pictures they have on social media are the ones that friends have tagged them in and they’re incredibly abstruse and pretty much worthless. Therefore you’re not able to spiral too far into Instagram black hole hell. You can’t make any connections or learn anything about their life because the info JUST ISN’T THERE.


2. literally does not say a word.

There’s much to be said for the strong silent type when it comes to these situations. Maybe they’re super shy, maybe they don’t give a shit…maybe both? Either way, they are DISCRETE AF. Honestly most of the time they won’t even speak to you in public. The understanding is that if you see each other you prob shouldn’t say hi but they’ll text you in a few hours during the appropriate f-kboy time window of 1am-5am.

This is good! You have boundaries. You have a SCHEDULE. You know what to expect and nothing will catch you by surprise and your emotions are under control. YOU WON’T CRY IN PUBLIC BECAUSE THE RULES ARE ESTABLISHED AND BEING FOLLOWED BY ALL.

3. is unreliable but in a consistent and predictable way.

He’s a f-kboy, you know he’s going to be unreliable. If you accept the situaish, you accept that he will most certainly be unreliable. An issue arises when he is sometimes reliable, OR unreliable in an unexpected way. Consistency is key. If he sometimes texts you during the day and asks to meet for a drink later, is that a date? THE PROBLEM IS THAT YOU DO NOT KNOW. It’s better if he just sticks to the schedule and doesn’t mess with the arrangement.

“Messing with the arrangement” is frankly emotional abuse and psychological manipulation and I will not stand for it. These f-kboys need to get their shit together.

4. doesn’t make you think it’s a date.

He doesn’t make you think it’s a date, BECAUSE IT’S NOT A DATE. STOP THINKING IT’S A DATE, THAT IS YOUR FAULT.

Unless he is making you think it’s a date, in which case he is being a total dickhead. If he invites you out and buys you shit and opens doors for you and whatever but doesn’t plan on actually dating you or giving up any of the other gals he’s messing around with, he’s being rude and cruel as hell. Same thing if he invites you to his house at a normal hour to watch a movie and like, read books about sharks and shit.

Still a shark fan, don’t worry.

Then he has you thinking that he likes you and you also really like sharks so you’re totally sold on this being your next great romance. BECAUSE OMG YOU HAVE SO MUCH IN COMMON YOU GUYS!

This will NOT be your next great romance and he’s being a shady asshole. Go back to the quiet one if a successful f-kboy arrangement is what you seek. You’ll just need to wait for his next 2:30am bat signal.

5. never gives you compliments.

Yeah, no. No compliments allowed. Like, I’ll allow a, “You’re nice” or “You’re pretty,” totally fine. But a, “You have the most perfect eyebrows I’ve ever seen,” or “Wow you’re smart,” …get the heck out of here, guy. Although these things are TRUE…the fact that a guy notices them makes me think they like me. And that is unfair! Because f-kboys DON’T LIKE YOU. I mean they “like” you enough to like…enter your home and park their skateboard in your foyer and make out with you…but that is IT. Any additional “like” is not guaranteed and should not be unfairly projected by said f-kboy unless they PLAN ON STICKIN AROUND, AMIRITE?

At one point I had one f-kboy hanging around that was super nice to me and took me to dates and parties and stuff, and another one that literally only spoke 10 words the whole 2 years we knew each other and we never spoke outside my home. Between these two, again I chose the quiet one. I CRIED to the nice one and broke the whole thing off because I was like, “If you don’t want to date why are you being nice?! You’re confusing me! I hate it! Bye!”

Then I ran all the way home to JC from Bushwick and retreated to the comfort of the sound of silence and random emojis.

I feel the Disturbed cover of this song is most suitable for my purposes.

The moral is, no one should put up with someone being mean to them. But in a f-kboy situaish, being too nice is also dangerous to all involved. Like, just be cool and everything will be fine, guy. I’ll still hook up with you even if you aren’t nice to me. Unfortunately I would probably be more likely to if you were mean. But neutral works for both of us as far as human decency. Just be quiet. Don’t say shit. You can laugh at my jokes. That’s fine. Other than that plz stay dark and mysterious so I can project my preferred personality profile onto you and invent a hilarious biographical backstory for you in which your parents own a diner in Central Jersey.

We must get our kicks where we can, my friends.

6. is in your same phase of life.

I’ve thought a lot about this one, and I think the perfect f-kboy for you is the one that is in your same phase of life. This doesn’t necessarily mean the same age, but like…the same phase. Yes, I said phase. Should I define “phase”? I think you get it.

So if you’re in a “going out every day even on weekdays and drinking 10 Tecates to the face” phase, it’s good if they’re in a similar phase. If you wake up in the morning and you’re not sure how they got there, it’s good if they’re not sure how they got there either. Level playing field, my friends.

I went through some times when I was in a bad phase. Like a “drinking a little too much and acting like a downtown JC loser every day” phase. A “not my best self” phase. I mean we all have. It’s fine. But the best choice f-kboy for that phase was one in a similar phase, as far as me perceiving him to be in a similar phase. Perception is reality. He could have been having the best and most successful days of his LIFE, but he seemed not his best self to me so I felt okay wallowing in nonsense together until something much better came along.

Background noise for wallowing.

And then something/someone did! And that’s that, and I’m sorry to betray the single world by saying that. But in the end, maybe for you, if you follow these guidelines, it will be that a better f-kboy comes along. Or not just “comes along,” that you CHOOSE. And THAT is important.

PS I also feel like I have gotten to the point where I am the annoying friend that is in a relationship that is like, “omg tell me all your STORIESSSS!” to my single friends and I’m sorry.

the end.

xmas textes from exes.

I realize this isn’t grammatically correct and I apologize but I think you know what I mean when I say “xmas textes from exes.” Like I just manipulated the words so they would rhyme.

Perhaps I SHAN-ipulated the words so they would rhyme.

Get it?

Either way xmas textes from exes are like…wtf? It’s just like every other time one of your ex “whatever” randomly texts you and you’re like… “wtf?” Except it’s during a holiday. So if you’re young and/or sad/lonely and/or still a moron about human interactions and relationships…sometimes it will get your hopes up.

Because you’re like “omg it is a HOLIDAY, it is a VERY SPECIAL DAY, and they would NOT be texting me unless they REALLY CARED ABOUT ME. AND THEY JUST TEXTED SO THAT MEANS THEY DO. OMGOMG WE ARE IN LOVE AGAIN!”

And it takes literal YEARS to not believe that every ex that texts on Xmas wants to get back together with you and loves you forever. Like it’s just not happening. But when you are younger and dumber and still have dreams it seems like it might happen.

And that’s not cool. Or fair. Or even humane, frankly.

So why do people do this? Do they literally think they are Santa? And they can now appear one special day a year and be like magical or some shit?

Although I am now immune to giving a shit about textes from exes I still don’t fully understand the WHY behind this particular species of seasonal greeting. It just makes no sense and accomplishes nothing.

Is it a power move? Like, an “I have power” move made by the exes? Probably. Everyone is terrible.

Anyway I didn’t get any textes from exes this year. And I was thinking about how grateful I am for that. I guess that’s what Santa brought me. Did I say I was grateful? I wish the same for you.

Stuff like this makes me think about all the times that people said “After you turn 30 there are a lot of things you don’t give a shit about anymore and it feels great,” and I was like “Eye roll.” But now I’m seeing some of that come into play and it IS great. I guess I’m just 5 years behind because I’m only reaping the benefits now, at 35.

I had too many mimosas and coffees with Bailey’s today so this isn’t a fully developed thought. But my gratitude remains.

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.

sexy planks.

First let me start off by defining “sexy plank.” Have you ever watched Phoebe Waller Bridge’s brilliant and amazing show “Fleabag”? If not, go watch. I’ll wait.

Oh cool you’re back! So there’s one episode where the eponymous Fleabag goes on a date or something with some shitty guy that has a girlfriend he’s cheating on and at one point he wants to end things with Fleabag and he’s struggling with it and he says, “You just kept turning up like this sexy…plank.” And she stands there all long and slouchy-like and glares at him but also kind of grins at him at the same time.

Phoebe Waller Bridge as Fleabag, via Vanity Fair

This completely cracked me up and I couldn’t get it out of my head. But I wasn’t sure why. And then I realized that I’m surrounded by sexy planks.

I mean maybe not surrounded but they’re around. I didn’t have a name for them before but now I do because Fleabag gave it to me. Maybe I’m completely bastardizing it and maybe that’s not what they wanted me to do, but it became a personal inside joke with myself and person-qualifier in my brain and now I’m sharing it with you. Because people need to define what other people are and what box they fit into because it’s easier for our brains. Look it up, it’s science. Being a sexy plank is a positive thing though, hence the word “sexy.”

Long and slouchy and half glaring/half-grinning, all through the streets of Brooklyn, Jersey City, and my preferred neighborhoods of Manhattan, they are ambling along. On impossibly long thin legs with slouching shoulders and a bit of a smirk and a completely effortless and unattainable aura of cool. In the tri-state area nothing is cooler than not trying or caring or giving a shit, and sexy planks don’t have to try at all. And they operate at an unattainable level of not trying.

Hunter Schafer, famous and fab sexy plank. Via Bossip (this was where I found the best pic this outfit is incred)

Maybe they’re trying on the inside! I’m sure they are. I mean I don’t know maybe I should talk with some sexy planks and be like, “Do you try like I do and it just looks easier? I look like a moron trying so hard to be cool every day.” It’s always been hard for me to realize that the coolest thing about being cool is NOT trying. Hence it being unattainable. Because one can’t just TRY not to try. It’s really a chicken or egg thing I guess.

Have I said that the sexy plank energy/vibe/lifestyle is unattainable?

I was once very overweight and I lost a great deal of weight and I was like “I’m thin now I can be a sexy plank! Look I’m slouching!”

How am I even slouching like this?!

But no that did not work. Because as usual I was trying too hard. I was consciously slouching and trying to take up less space. Trying to monopolize on taking up less space. That sounds paradoxical but I was trying to emphasize how little space I was now taking up by slouching.

Slouching but do it by cake.

Basically no matter how much you work out or how strong you feel (woo!), you will not be a sexy plank. You will be able to DO a sexy plank (woo!) but in order to BE a sexy plank you need to be born a sexy plank.

My sister is a sexy plank. Hi pop.

Cutie <3

Anyway this sexy plank distinction came into play when I was going on stupid dates and trying to find dudes to hang out with and whatever I was doing that wasn’t working when it came to dealing with the opposite sex over the past 10 years. And there would be dudes that I was like “omg love that dude” and he’d be like “yeah cool whatever I’ll just be over here with this sexy plank but see you at some point after 3am but before 6am make sure you put on west side story k bye.”

From my personal collection of photos I’ve taken of West Side Story on my TV screen.

And I would be like, “ugh. Every dude wants a sexy plank.” And this was hyperbole. Every dude did not want a sexy plank. But every dude DOES want something different, and so does every gal, and we’re all not going to be what someone wants some of the times and that’s okay. And it took me a long time to be okay with that. I swear I’m okay with it now. Maybe.

But even if “maybe” I’m okay with it now, it’s more a matter of pride/ego than actually feeling hurt by it. This took a lot of personal growth and you should be proud of me. Thank you.

Hey hi over here does this work? Still a no? Oh…okay.

Part of working through this was writing notes to myself in my iPhone notepad as many of us do. Do many of us do that? I do know that I am one of “us” and I write many notes.

And these were my thoughts on sexy planks I’d seen around the town, and comparing myself to the sexy planks, because as women we are conditioned to always compare and weigh and measure and find ourselves wanting. Oh and also the “he” encompasses many, all the he’s that ever thought I was “too much” over the history of time, pretty much:

Neither of them take up any space and seem quiet and meek, trying not to draw too much attention. Not like I’ve ever spoken to them. In his mind he probably just thought I was “annoying.” But that’s semantics. By “annoying” I’m certain he would mean all of the things I prize most about myself: being outspoken, taking up space, laughing too loud. I’m going to assume he simply wasn’t interested in THOSE qualities and interpret his “annoying” as “just not for me.” Keep in mind I don’t even know this any of these people at all and this dialogue exists solely in my head.

Wow. That really went somewhere. JK it didn’t. Also I do create narratives in my mind about people I barely know and I give them entire personalities based on like, their Venmo activity but I will explore that another time.

I guess you’re supposed to like “learn shit” from dating and this was something that I learned. It’s the whole grass is always greener bullshit.

Here I am, wanting to be a cool as a cucumber, quiet(er), aloof, slouching in a cool way sexy plank, and I ended up realizing part of who I am is NOT being cool. That I LIKE the uncool part, and being loud and taking up space is important to me. That walking into a bar or a store or a party and being like “HELLO I AM HERE LOOK AT ME” is the only way I want to live. That maybe everyone doesn’t like that and is quite possibly horrified and appalled and embarrassed by that and that’s okay.

Born to live out loud and I do mean loud so get used to it or get outta here. Also not a sexy plank but okay with it for now.

Additionally over the past couple of years it’s become very important to me to not hate other women or see them as competition for dudes. In breakup or cheating situations now if I’m trying to comfort my gal friends I tread very carefully and don’t talk shit about other women, as in the “new woman.” A lot of times it’s easy to try to make your pal feel better and be like, “She’s dumb!” “She sucks!” “I hate her shoes!” “She is literally a FETUS!”(for those under 27). And it’s hard around these parts because it’s a big city but a small town, and pals see exes out and it’s weird and it’s hurtful and it’s garbage. But we soldier on. And talking bad about other gals isn’t going to make you seem any cooler. I’m uncool overall and not an authority on cool by any means but THIS I know to be true.


I remember when I wrote myself that note and what I thought about. It was a sunny day, a band was playing. I was drinking a Ruby Redbird. And I realized I don’t have to be a sexy plank. And also that sexy planks don’t have to be me. And we can all be who we want and no matter who we are we can do whatever we want and that boxes are bullshit so please break down your boxes and recycle them and don’t let the door hit you on your way out.

manic pixie dream girl-ed

We’re all familiar with the Manic Pixie Dream Girl character, but have you ever been Manic Pixie Dream Girl-ed? As in someone makes you into a MPDG in their mind and you can tell they’re doing it and you feel like a cartoon character of yourself and you hate it and it is lame.

Initially I said I was going to write about dating so now I’m going to. And I want it to be clear that anything I write about is not me just talking shit. Everyone does stuff wrong in the dating game, even me…EVEN YOU. We all have lost the game, no one survives unscathed or without blood on their hands. I’m just telling a story. For all you know I could have just made this whole thing up. That’s for you to decide.

There are too many guys that are like, “oh I’m so nice, I’m a GOOD GUY, I’m going to DO NICE THINGS FOR THIS WOMAN.” And the woman is like, “oh okay cool great, I like new friends and people doing nice stuff and these activities seem fun so I’ll hang with this guy.”

And then at some point she might decide she just wants to be friends because like, SOMETIMES PEOPLE JUST WANT TO BE FRIENDS and then all of a sudden the “nice guy” like LOSES HIS MIND because he got “friend zoned” and is all “this girl is just chasing after mean dudes and I’m the best guy for her” and it’s like NO. SHE JUST WANTS TO BE FRIENDS. THE FRIEND ZONE DOES NOT EXIST. SUCK IT.

Either he loses his mind or he mopes around. Either way after a bit of time after being told “no thanks” he will TRY AGAIN and honestly the AUDACITY OF THIS SECOND OR EVEN THIRD TRY SICKENS ME.

Obviously I have very strong opinions about this.

Because one of the times this happened to me (it has happened more than once yes, it happens to everyone, it is a MENACE), in addition to the guy kind of being a mopey jerk when I said “no thanks,” because he felt ENTITLED to my affection because he was “NICE,” he also put me on a pedestal in a very odd and unnerving way that had never happened before and I chose to analyze it and Google it and decided I was “Manic Pixie Dream Girl-ed.”

Resting on pedestal.

Disclaimer time: I’m not a scientist or a psychologist or an anthropologist and beyond that I don’t live inside this dude’s mind, nor did I have insightful conversations with him asking him what he was doing, so these thoughts are just from my perspective of how he made me feel and that’s that.

But he DID make me feel weird. And perception is reality.

I felt like I was being analyzed under a microscope but ALSO at the same time being ADMIRED DESPERATELY. As some kind of muse. As some kind of INSPIRATION. At first it was like, okay cool I have a new friend to watch the Shannon Show and listen to me when I talk and let me control the radio. Because I really like to control the radio and hate when others control the radio.

Oooo so quirky with my binoculars!

But then I started to realize that everything I said and everything I did and everything I chose or showed that I was interested in became something that he was weirdly staring at me and admiring. I would catch this stare of weird admiration and be like wtf.

What’s wrong with admiration? I mean nothing but I’m telling you I felt weird about this one. He was admiring me in an unhealthy way. And I am convinced this is so. And I’m still mad about it. Because I feel like other men are doing this and other women are victims of it and it needs to be stopped.

The thing that’s WRONG and SEXIST about Manic Pixie Dream Girls as characters, according to their actual definition, is that they “have no discernible inner life, and usually only exist to provide the protagonist some important life lessons.”

And this is what I felt like! I felt like he was completely ignoring who I actually am, my actual story, my actual wants and hopes and fears and ideas, and just looking at me as a fun little character lady he could project his yearning onto. And I hated it. And I felt it was unfair and uncool. And I felt like I was reduced to some kind of object that just existed for him to be inspired by. A bright shiny glittery fabulous object, but an object nonetheless.

Leg kick! I’m so fun and silly and have no inner life or backstory. Weeeee.

He cast me as a character in his life and his story where he was the hero protagonist and he did not even care to write me a good backstory. I was a prop. To him I had no discernible inner life and existed solely to provide him with some important life lessons. And maybe he learned some, because he unfollowed me on Instagram.

I guess I’m most mad that once he accepted that I didn’t want to date him he wrote me off as like “a bitch who took advantage of him” and I submit that I DID NOT.

My funny face says I’m essentially a two dimensional cartoon character! Hehehe.

Perhaps this is just another he said/she said case we’ll have to submit to the Court of Dating and it will never go to trial. Because no one cares.

Thank FUCK I’m in a relationship and I don’t have to date anymore. It is a living nightmare. If you’re single I’m sorry but dating blows. It is 100% better to hang with your pals and fam or read a book or do some self care or any infinite number of things than go on a date with someone you don’t know and then 99.9% of the time they suck or you suck and it’s a waste. It’s always a waste. A waste of time and resources and sanity.

That’s not to say I think I’ll never have to date again. It can happen any time. No one is safe when they fully rely on the whims of another. Which is why I strive for complete autonomy in my romantic relationship at all times.

If I ever have to date again, I think keeping the harsh reality of it fresh in my mind will help. I’m saying “if” (babe if you’re reading this plz don’t be mad love you bye).

Have you ever been Manic Pixie Dream Girl-ed? Have you ever Manic Pixie Dream Girl-ed someone? Shame on you! Do you like when I talk about dating and rant? I do.

PS – Women most definitely also do this to men. Or anyone to anyone! Next time I’ll write about times I’ve been on the other end. We’ll see who is ashamed THEN.

it me.

I’ve dated a lot. I’ve bought a lot of shit. I’ve eaten more pizza and ice cream than you can imagine. I’ve traveled this country we call home and it wasn’t always pretty. I have some stories to tell. Amid the stories/essays/rants/whatever, we’re going to have some fun. Because why the hell wouldn’t we.

I like avocado toast and tutus and flamingos as much as the next girl, so there will be a lot of that.

I’d also like to warn you that there will be a lot of rage. Rage against men, rage against the machine, rage against someone touching my arm on the PATH train or the small of my back at the bar. There’s really nothing too big or small for me to have a full post’s worth of rage about

I’m excited to get started and share my thoughts. I don’t know why I never did this before but I think I was probably being a wimp and thought people would think it was weird.

Well, it is weird. So here we go.