I was sitting here trying to think of a relevant, thrilling topic to discuss.  Right before I started, a commercial for a different online dating site came on TV on the Lifetime network.  Yeah, I was watching Lifetime.  Not because I’m secure about my masculinity, because I’m not.  I was watching Lifetime because they are now syndicating How I Met Your Mother.  The fact that a television show based on five people, three of whom are men, which often takes places in bars, strip clubs, and bachelor pads, is on the first television network dedicated completely to women, is temporarily irrelevant.  Also, their made-for-TV movies are great when I need an abusive-husband-voyeurism fix.  Also, Will & Grace has to live on somewhere.  So I was watching Lifetime and now you know that.

The online dating site commercial boasted that it has been the source of like a million marriages.  That sounds tempting if you are single.  But then I thought about it.  How can any website trace every one of its marriages back to itself?  Think about this.  If you are lucky enough to find a mate using an online dating site, are you going to advertise to the world that you found each other online?  Of course, I love telling people that I blog for 100hookup, and if I found a wife using this site, I would tell everybody because it is a respected and respectable site.  Nothing against the other website, but I truly doubt that they can, for sure, say that they are the impetus for over a million marriages.  And if they can, then the general American public has no dignity.

Last night on Californication, the main guy Hank Moody, launched like a bat out of hell into this tirade about how dating is merely a means to an end. Granted the not-entirely-reformed rake was at one point willing to sacrifice his many women for a life with just one, but after getting shot down by the realistic (and oh so depressing) notion that the union would be more like solitary confinement rather than a blissful state of mind, he bought a one-way ticket right back to his old ways. Old habits do indeed die hard, and his eagerness to sample every one of the thirty one flavors of women was really quite astounding – purely from a stamina point of view. So while Moody is multitasking women like it’s going out of style, it wasn’t exactly because he found joy from any of the several girls by his side. It was simply because what’s a better way to heal old wounds than by a distraction, or two, or thirty one? So while we girls remind ourselves not to hate the player, but hate the game – remember that just because we’ve been wounded doesn’t mean the man of the moment hasn’t as well. Patience is a virtue, and while time is absolutely of the essence, it’s not a make it or break it type of scenario. So while you’re at home crying over enduring another insufferable Lifetime movie moment, remember that the happily ever after is still out there – you may just have to get up and change the channel yourself.

Well, I’m a few weeks into the quarter-life crisis and happy to say I’m still mentally sane amidst the chaotic mess that is Cali. I guess I’m a little OG when it comes to mental breakdowns. I have yet to shop around for a therapist because hey, if I need someone to tell me what I’m doing wrong, I just ask my friends. Of course, the Percocet perks are little to none, but there’s always a two-for-one special on criticism. Now, however old-school I am in the mental madness area (etiquette indicates breakdowns happen behind closed doors, not in line at Starbucks); I am the complete opposite when it comes to the idea of marriage. While some of my friends are ready for the ring, I am more inclined to bide my time. I mean, I can’t even take care of a plant, let alone a future fiancé. So what’s a girl to do when the whole of young America seems to be pairing off like a nuptial Noah’s Ark? Suddenly Hallmark, Lifetime, and the like have conspired together to have you really feeling the “Unbearable Lightness of Being.”

I truly feel that when it comes to California, our beloved residence is light years behind the beau-crazed belles of the South, and this state of being is great. You get more time to waltz around the world before you sprint down the aisle past the bad nightmare-inducing dresses in candy colors…and no matter what the champagne count is, YMCA will never be considered ohmigod-I-love-this-song worthy. Inevitably, and like most twenty-somethings, I plan on tying the knot at some point, I’d just rather not choke my social life with that noose just yet. So even though the single scene often has you ending the night sans a happily ever after, do I think it’s well worth it? I do. Too many girls are so preoccupied with finding “the one” they forget to make sure he’s one-and-only worthy. So until I truly am the last girl standing, and the said single ladies are all extinct, I’m just going to love, honor, and obey at a later date.

I adore going out dressed in couture, accessorized with stilettos I can barely balance in, and armed with the best gossip as much as any other girl from Los Scandalous. What in the world is a girl to do when sex in this city gets too haute to handle and she finds herself in need of a break from all the Lifetime movie moments? Head out for a night of drinking, debauchery, and endless Guitar Hero with the boys. This little sneak peek into the male psyche is more than enlightening, it’s entertaining as hell! When the gloves come off and the shots go down, it’s completely apparent that when it comes to life, love, and sex, guys and gals are more often than not on the same level. The problem is this little convo of ours involving twisted tales of past sexcapades was only divulged within our less-than-holy trinity. So Judas Priest, the son, and me, being paler than a ghost, sat at our very own last supper of sorts forgetting the gender roles expected of the fair sex and my bff’s best friend – in a manner so becoming of any Guitar Hero – prophesized point blank, that girls are the new guys. I can’t say I disagree. All-American girls from all over the country are transforming the dating game into a truth-or-dare scenario that may very well turn into seven minutes in heaven. But if Daddy’s little angel is hell-bent on messing with your male mind, don’t forget you can walk away too. All’s fair in love and war. So if girls are indeed the new guys and sex is a level playing field, then I suggest both genders see what positions and scenarios work best for them; because horizontal, vertical, from the bottom, or the top, you can only get stabbed in the back. Just depends who submits to whom, and who taps out first. I strongly suggest conditioning in the wonderful world of contact dating. Who knows, maybe Lifetime will look more like FX soon.

The Watchmen just came out. I read it, and it was truly amazing. I didn’t give comics nearly enough credit, and before you think I was hired by DC to promote the extremely graphic little novel, just understand that the guy, the antihero, my superhero – well he’s right. We’ve entered into an age where superheroes and villains are essentially the same thing, and how do you decipher the good from the bad?

My former fling, once superhero, now villain, is stalking the world wide web, driving me slowly, six feet under. His superpower? His incredible ability? He got me, he made me laugh, and all that other lame stuff that usually had me bolting for the door at zero to sixty in 3.5. It  just seemed to work with us, and of course, there was comfort in consistency. And now it seems his evil villain of a girlfriend is so insanely gorgeous it’s like staring at the sun and being blinded. You know you shouldn’t look, but the tiny evil villain inside us all possesses your soul, and you type his name to see her, size up your competition, (you clearly have no choice, you’re merely doing research) and suddenly cyber-stalking is not only a necessity, it’s a professional sport, leaving no time to avert your eyes.

There she is, lighting up the screen like a faulty nightlight, able to shine all over the damn place in your darkest hour. Their happiness should be quarantined before America catches on to the trendy post-valentine epidemic and we’re all destined to live in the midst of a Lifetime movie. And you have to wonder how he just erased you completely – even though that’s what you undoubtedly tried to do to him. Does that make you the evil one? No, it makes you the sane one.

You’ve both entered into a post break-up marathon and it’s a race to the finish line, to see who can pick up the pieces and regain strength before the other. So the conditioning begins, and the methodology is different for every participant, you either erase them, you forget about them completely, or you continue the conditioning. You go to his page, you acclimate yourself to his new brand of heroine, and you do this until it doesn’t hurt. Until you don’t have to avert your eyes. Until your heart doesn’t stop when his page shows up on screen. And if you’re like most? Like the majority of this oh-so peachy-keen all-American nation? You find a new addiction before the one you’re currently hooked on does you in. And what do you do when you’ve gone through them all? Hopefully I figure that out soon, because time’s running out and The Watchmen are right, “American love, like coke in green glass bottles, they don’t make it anymore.”