Date A Girl Who Drinks

Date a girl who drinks. Date a girl who knows how to have fun. And by fun, meaning there’s almost always alcohol involved. Date a girl who knows how to let loose, how to go wild. Date the girl who would let the tequila take over once in a while, because a girl who drinks knows she’s just human, and that it’s acceptable to not be in control all the time.

You might bump into her in the club. Dancing with her girlfriends, a beer raised in one hand and a cigarette on the other, while her hips certainly not lying. She’ll be dressed very provocatively in a little black dress with a pair of snake skin 6-inch killer heels. Watch her and you’d see a girl living her life ludicrously, surrounded by her friends who would eventually leave to ‘go home’ with some guy they just met. 

Go up to her and introduce yourself. Buy her a drink. If she orders a Scotch neat, applaud her, and give yourself a pat on the back because a girl like her doesn't come around often. Dance with her, hold her close. Feel her body pressed onto yours, your breath mixing with hers. Learn to let go. Let go of yourself. The same way she let goes and let the alcohol win. She will look at you with lustful eyes, her hands gripping your shirt instead of vodka. She would lick her lips and look at yours under those heavy curled eyelashes. Kiss her. Then take her outside, by the back door. Leave her breathless. 

Or if not, you’ll see her in your local pub, sitting alone by the bar with a bottle of whiskey. She’s probably been there for a while, on her third glass or so. Sit two stools away from her and then ask her whether she thinks the bottle is half empty or half full. Stare into her eyes because you would see that she’s thinking, not with her mind, but with her heart. Then instead of answering, she would smile that little smile, and offer you a drink. Sit beside her for the rest of the night. Don’t make a move on her just yet, because a girl who drinks is also a girl who knows when a guy is interested. She’s probably have encountered countless of those. So a guy who’s being real, not trying to impress, is absolutely a breath of fresh air.

Try to get her number. Because a girl who drinks doesn't make her a girl who sleeps around —as the stereotype would go. She deserves more than drunk sex and the sneaking out the morning after, avoiding breakfast, avoiding complications. She deserves more than half-assed texts and booty calls. She deserves more than the promised "I’ll call you" that never comes. She deserves more than lust. She deserves more than love. Because a girl like her doesn't rely on love alone. She’s smarter than that.

May it be luck or fate playing with you that you meet this girl, take a chance on her because chance is all you've got. She might not be the one but she’s one in a million. Yes, there are other girls out there —decent, principled, better even. And this girl right here is the embodiment of incompetence, carelessness, and concupiscence. But she will make your wildest dreams come true, that none of your prim and proper girlfriends would ever dare to do.

Don’t trust this girl because she will betray you. But trust this girl because it’s a big risk to. She will be unfaithful to you for she had and will screw other men like she had screwed you. She doesn't expect you to stick around for long anyway, so don’t assume she’d commit. She will call you up only when she’s bored, bored of her friends, bored of her work, bored of her life. She would come running to you only because she needs something, something new, something different, something real. She’s selfish like that.

Don’t fall in love with this girl because she won’t do you any good. But love this girl for reasons you cannot understand. She won’t encourage you to do what’s best for you, instead she will seduce you into immorality. She will fuck you up and mess with your head. And when you’re lost in thought, overpowered by your own fears and feelings, she will be there for you. She will knock on your door at two in the morning with a 6-pack Heineken. She will say cheers with you and drown with you, because she knows how it feels to be alone, to have no one but alcohol to turn to. She will stay, let you get drunk in your problems, then she’ll drag you across the floor into your bed, tuck you in and kiss you goodnight.

Don’t worry about this girl because she’s certainly not thinking about you. But worry about this girl because she knows she can survive —and that’s the greatest threat she could ever hold against herself. Worry about her because she’s so used to detaching herself from everything and everyone around her. Instead of depending on liquor, show her that it’s okay to depend on someone for once. She probably won’t give up alcohol for you, but she will let you in in her impaired world. She would spill all her secrets and expect you to not care. She would cry to you and rant on her pointless existence. And then she would laugh, like nothing ever went wrong. And then she would thank you. She may not remember everything you said the morning after, but she would remember that you were with her. And for this girl, that is more than enough.

When you find this girl, run away. Run away from her. This is the kind of girl your mother warned you about. She has nothing to offer you but a shitload of baggage her life is cluttered with. Because a girl who drinks knows reality. She knows how fucked up everything and everyone is. A girl who drinks is just a girl looking for escape. Be her escape. 

When you find this girl, run away. Run away with her. This is the kind of girl your father fell in love with but didn't marry. She has nothing to offer you but the great elation of being under the influence. She’s a whirlwind of sober thoughts and drunk judgement combined. She definitely won’t give you a bright future, but she would leave you a memorable past. And in the short time you would spend with her, she will give you one thing in return —she would be your escape.

Years later, she will crash your wedding, intoxicated. She will call for a toast —a bottle of whiskey raised— for you and your beautiful bride, retelling all the drunk nights you can’t remember and all the crazy sex you had together. She will destroy your life one last time as your betrothed exits the church in tears. She will curse the priest and all your quintessential guests in the house of your God, laughing as the security tries to escort her out. She’ll blow you one last kiss before she disappears out the door, out of your life. Then you’ll find yourself smiling and running, not after your perfect wife-to-be, but after that damaged girl who drinks —that bitch who wrecked your life. You’d see her sitting two steps down, dressed very provocatively in a little white dress, a pair of leopard skin 6-inch killer heels in hand, and the whiskey on the other. You call out to her and ask her why. She would turn around, stare into your eyes, wondering if you think that it’s wrong, or do feel that this is right. She would take a swig. And then she would answer you, and tell you that it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter whether the bottle is half empty or half full. What matters is there’s half left —and that half is yours.

Then she would smile that little smile, and offer you a drink.

Date A Girl Who Writes

Date a girl who may never wear completely clean clothes, because of coffee stains and ink spills. She’ll have many problems with her closet space, and her laptop is never boring because there are so many words, so many worlds that she’s cluttered amidst the space. Tabs open filled with obscure and popular music. Interesting factoids about Catherine the Great, and the immortality of jellyfish. Laugh it off when she tells you that she forgot to clean her room, that her clothes are lost among the binders so it’ll take her longer to get ready, that her shoes hidden under the mountain of broken pens and the refurbished laptop that she’s saved for ever since she was twelve.

Kiss her under the lamppost, when it’s raining. Tell her your definition of love.

Find a girl who writes. You’ll know that she has a sense of humor, a sense of empathy and kindness, and that she will dream up worlds, universes for you. She’s the one with the faintest of shadows underneath her eyelids, the one who smells of coffee and Coca-cola and jasmine green tea. You see that girl hunched over a notebook. That’s the writer. With her fingers occasionally smudged with charcoal, with ink that will travel onto your hands when you interlock your fingers with her’s. She will never stop, churning out adventures, of traitors and heroes. Darkness and light. Fear and love. That’s the writer. She can never resist filling a blank page with words, whatever the color of the page is.

She’s the girl reading while waiting for her coffee and tea. She’s the quiet girl with her music turned up loud (or impossibly quiet), separating the two of you by an ocean of crescendos and decrescendos as she’s thinking of the perfect words. If you take a peek at her cup, the tea or coffee’s already cold. She’s already forgotten it.

Use a pick-up line with her if she doesn't look too busy.

If she raises her head, offer to buy her another cup of coffee. Or of tea. She’ll repay you with stories. If she closes her laptop, give her your critique of Tolstoy, and your best theories of Hannibal and the Crossing. Tell her your characters, your dreams, and ask if she gotten through her first novel.

It is hard to date a girl who writes. But be patient with her. Give her books for her birthday, pretty notebooks for Christmas and for anniversaries, moleskins and bookmarks and many, many books. Give her the gift of words, for writers are talkative people, and they are verbose in their thanks. Let her know that you’re behind her every step of the way, for the lines between fiction and reality are fluid.

She’ll give you a chance.

Don’t lie to her. She’ll understand the syntax behind your words. She’ll be disappointed by your lies, but a girl who writes will understand. She’ll understand that sometimes even the greatest heroes fail, and that happy endings take time, both in fiction and reality. She’s realistic. A girl who writes isn't impatient; she will understand your flaws. She will cherish them, because a girl who writes will understand plot. She’ll understand that endings happen for better or for worst.

A girl who writes will not expect perfection from you. Her narratives are rich, her characters are multifaceted because of interesting flaws. She’ll understand that a good book does not have perfect characters; villains and tragic flaws are the salt of books. She’ll understand trouble, because it spices up her story. No author wants an invincible hero; the girl who writes will understand that you are only human.

Be her compatriot, be her darling, her love, her dream, her world.

If you find a girl who writes, keep her close. If you find her at two AM, typing furiously, the neon gaze of the light illuminating her furrowed forehead, place a blanket gently on her so that she does not catch a chill. Make her a pot of tea, and sit with her. You may lose her to her world for a few moments, but she will come back to you, brimming with treasure. You will believe in her every single time, the two of you illuminated only by the computer screen, but invincible in the darkness.

She is your Shahrazad. When you are afraid of the dark, she will guide you, her words turning into lanterns, turning into lights and stars and candles that will guide you through your darkest times. She’ll be the one to save you.

She’ll whisk you away on a hot air balloon, and you will be smitten with her. She’s mischievous, frisky, yet she’s quiet and when she has to kill off a lovely character, when she cries, hold her and tell her that it will be alright.

You will propose to her. Maybe on a boat in the ocean, maybe in a little cottage in the Appalachian Mountains. Maybe in New York City. Maybe Chicago. Baltimore. Maybe outside her publisher’s office. Because she’s radiant, wherever she goes. Maybe even outside of a cinema where the two of you kiss in the rain. She’ll say that it is overused and cliched  but the glint in her eyes will tell you that she appreciates it all the same.

You will smile hard as she talks a mile a second, and your heart will skip a beat when she holds your hand and she will write stories of your lives together. She’ll hold you close and whisper secrets into your ears. She’s lovely, remember that. She’s self made and she’s brilliant. Her names for the children might be terrible, but you’ll be okay with that. A girl who writes will tell your children fantastical stories.

Because that is the best part about a girl who writes. She has imagination and she has courage, and it will be enough. She’ll save you in the oceans of her dreams, and she’ll be your catharsis and your 11:11. She’ll be your fire-bird and she’ll be your knight, and she’ll become your world, in the curve of her smile, in the hazel of her eye the half-dimple on her face, the words that are pouring out of her, a torrent, a wave, a crescendo - so many sensations that you will be left breathless by a girl who writes.

Maybe she’s not the best at grammar, but that is okay.

Date a girl who writes because you deserve it. She’s witty, she’s empathetic, enigmatic at times and she’s lovely. She’s got the most colorful life. She may be living in NYC or she may be living in a small cottage. Date a girl who writes because a girl who writes reads.

A girl who writes will understand reality. She’ll be infuriating at times, and maybe sometimes you will hate her. Sometimes she will hate you too. But a girl who writes understands human nature, and she will understand that you are weak. She will not leave on the Midnight Train the first moment that things go sour. She will understand that real life isn't like a story, because while she works in stories, she lives in reality.

Date a girl who writes.

Because there is nothing better than a girl who writes.

This is for all the nice guys!

This is a tribute to the nice guys. The nice guys that finish last, that never become more than friends, that endure hours of whining and bitching about what assholes guys are, while disproving the very point. This is dedicated to those guys who always provide a shoulder to lean on but restrain themselves to tentative hugs, those guys who hold open doors and give reassuring pats on the back and sit patiently outside the changing room at department stores. This is in honor of the guys that obligingly reiterate how cute/beautiful/smart/funny/sexy their female friends are at the appropriate moment, because they know most girls need that litany of support. This is in honor of the guys with open minds, with laid-back attitudes, with honest concern. This is in honor of the guys who respect a girl’s every facet, from her privacy to her theology to her clothing style.

This is for the guys who escort their drunk, bewildered female friends back from parties and never take advantage once they’re at her door, for the guys who accompany girls to bars as buffers against the rest of the creepy male population, for the guys who know a girl is fishing for compliments but give them out anyway, for the guys who always play by the rules in a game where the rules favor cheaters, for the guys who are accredited as boyfriend material but somehow don’t end up being boyfriends, for all the nice guys who are overlooked, underestimated, and unappreciated, for all the nice guys who are manipulated, misled, and unjustly abandoned, this is for you.

This is for that time she left 40 urgent messages on your cell phone, and when you called her back, she spent three hours painstakingly dissecting two sentences her boyfriend said to her over dinner. And even though you thought her boyfriend was a chump and a jerk, you assured her that it was all ok and she shouldn’t worry about it. This is for that time she interrupted the best killing spree you’d ever orchestrated in GTA3 to rant about a rumor that romantically linked her and the guy she thinks is the most repulsive person in the world. And even though you thought it was immature and you had nothing against the guy, you paused the game for two hours and helped her concoct a counter-rumor to spread around the floor. This is also for that time she didn’t have a date, so after numerous vows that there was nothing “serious” between the two of you, she dragged you to a party where you knew nobody, the beer was awful, and she flirted shamelessly with you, justifying each fit of reckless teasing by announcing to everyone: “oh, but we’re just friends!” And even though you were invited purely as a symbolic warm body for her ego, you went anyways. Because you’re nice like that.

The nice guys don’t often get credit where credit is due. And perhaps more disturbing, the nice guys don’t seem to get laid as often as they should. And I wish I could logically explain this trend, but I can’t. From what I have observed on campus and what I have learned from talking to friends at other schools and in college, the only conclusion I can form is that many girls are just illogical, manipulative bitches. Many of them claim they just want to date a nice guy, but when presented with such a specimen, they say irrational, confusing things such as “oh, he’s too nice to date” or “he would be a good boyfriend but he’s not for me” or “he already puts up with so much from me, I couldn’t possibly ask him out!” or the most frustrating of all: “no, it would ruin our friendship.” Yet, they continue to lament the lack of datable men in the world, and they expect their too-nice-to-date male friends to sympathize and apologize for the men that are jerks. Sorry, guys, girls like that are beyond my ability to fathom. I can’t figure out why the connection breaks down between what they say (I want a nice guy!) and what they do (I’m going to sleep with this complete ass now!). But one thing I can do, is say that the nice-guy-finishes-last phenomenon doesn’t last forever. There are definitely many girls who grow out of that train of thought and realize they should be dating the nice guys, not taking them for granted. The tricky part is finding those girls, and even trickier, finding the ones that are single.

So, until those girls are found, I propose a toast to all the nice guys. You know who you are, and I know you’re sick of hearing yourself described as ubiquitously nice. But the truth of the matter is, the world needs your patience in the department store, your holding open of doors, your party escorting services, your propensity to be a sucker for a pretty smile. For all the crazy, inane, absurd things you tolerate, for all the situations where you are the faceless, nameless hero, my accolades, my acknowledgement, and my gratitude go out to you. You do have credibility in this society, and your well deserved vindication is coming.

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