Recently, two former 100hookuprs came to us with two separate requests asking for help in creating two distinct marriage proposals for their two respective girlfriends (whom both met on 100hookup). Talk about a one-two (proposal) punch!

Of course we jumped at the opportunity to help each of these lovesick lads, but working with two different men meant we needed to make each proposal as unique, unexpected and unforgettable as possible. It was a challenge we gladly accepted!

For the first, we utilized our Times Square digital billboard as Bachelor Number One (AKA Dan) popped the question in the midst of Times Square with thousands of people watching. For the second, we pulled off a bit of Hollywood magic to help Bachelor Number Two (AKA Howard) make his unsuspecting girlfriend believe she was being interviewed for a 100hookup success story testimonial shoot.

Both women were completely surprised by these two magical marriage proposals, but did they say, “yes”? You’ll just have to watch to find out!

Watch The Ultimate NYC Proposal

Go Behind The Scenes Of A Real LA Love Story

When I moved out here to Los Angeles after college, a lot off my friends came too.  Now that we’re all here, we’ve managed to find day jobs so that we can afford rent and groceries, and in our spare time we write and produce sketch comedy, a la Kids in the Hall or Upright Citizen Brigade. 

Two of these friends that live together have each already had multiple flings with multiple women that they’ve met in bars, at work, or through other friends.  I’ve had one brief fling, through 100hookup, and have been in the city for twice as long.

Why is this?  In truth, they are more handsome and suave than I am, but they don’t really respect any of the women they get with, and the purely-sexual relationships they have do not last long.

I fantasize about walking into a bar, finding an attractive woman, and getting her back to my place, because I am single.  This happens to my friends, but never to me.  Is it because I have too much respect for women, or because I’m not handsome or suave enough?

It’s a rhetorical question, because I know your answer would be different whether you’re a man or a woman.  And both answers are probably correct.

Hello!  My name’s Adam, and I’m a recent college graduate.  I grew up in North Carolina and went to college in Georgia. After miraculously finding a paid internship in the entertainment biz, I moved to the great city of Los Angeles to start a career and a brand new life.  I’ve been out here for 8 months now, and while my job is exciting and fulfilling, I often drive home at night and feel like something is missing; an exciting and fulfilling relationship.

Going to bars in this city simply to try and pick up women usually ends with me spending too much on booze and going home alone.  That’s not to say I never have a good time going out.  I simply lack that extra confidence needed to approach women and strike up a conversation, even though I know that this is often all it takes.  But time and time again, I find myself searching for something, anything to say to this beautiful woman as she walks past me, and thinking damn, now she’s talking to some tall guy with a nicer button-down shirt and gelled-out hair, simply because he had the confidence to say “Hey.”

This is why 100hookup is such a savior for guys like me.  Not only do I know that most of these women have had a similar upbringing, but I actually have time to formulate my thoughts, be witty and get a general idea of what they are all about before I actually talk to them in person.  There has always been a stigma about online dating, but I feel that in the past 3 years there has been a cultural revelation of sorts.  A large percentage of our generation’s communication occurs online and via text message.  Online dating is facing a revolution of its own, and it’s up to the users to shape its future.

California is pretty much drenched in fiery flame, and the inferno couldn’t be less reflective of the love lives of several of the girls I know. Just in time for the back-to-school b.s., girls seeking sufficient motivation to actually attend class are searching to satisfy said quest in the form of males who happen to matriculate at their chosen institutions. And while classes are still held in the midst of suffocating (and equally ominous) black clouds, the air quality outside isn’t even half as toxic as your post not-so-great-date state-of-mind. So while you’re stuck in class taking notes on what is sure to not help you achieve nuptial nirvana, you’re daydreaming that your love life gets as hot as the So Cal hillsides. The good news about this not-so-staged disaster set in our silver screen city? “Can you believe the weather” now constitutes an actual social starter! So while you’re pretending to take notes when you’re really marking your initials with that of some mystery man – remember that your love life can catch flame faster than the autumn brush. Maybe a little delinquent activity can help expedite the process. Smoke, loiter, you have a myriad of options at your heart’s (literally) disposal. Sometimes being bad is what gets you feeling so good.

Once upon a midnight dreary, those in possession of various area codes left their nine-to-five fabulosity behind and headed to Hollyweird, better known as the belly of the beast. Saturday night’s a veritable playground for those whose appetite is not quite satisfied by continental cuisine, and in pursuit of all things unholy, twenty somethings congregate in carnal couture, consumed with their quest to eat, pray, love. So scandal and its cohort debauchery seep into the city and suddenly L.A. is a feeding ground for the tired, the poor, the huddled masses yearning to be free from weekly restraints, unless said restraints hold the promise of a little pseudo self-indulgence.

My fave nights to prowl around Hollywood with the girls often involve the sheer amusement I get from witnessing the hunt through a cosmopolitan haze. Girls it seems are just as guilty as guys in their sordid methods of getting what they want, even if it’s just a new number to enhance the mundane Monday through Friday scene. The scandalously-clad city of sin becomes this mockumentary from National Geographic and the urban jungle is less forgiving and much more cut-throat than the silly little Sahara scene. Guys lurk by the bar checking out the fresh meat and when the head-to-toe once over officially meets the kissing criteria, they pounce, hoping to go from Jane’s house, to my house, back to his house. It’s a funny thing to watch this guiltiest of pleasures, but those lucky enough to live in the valley of the dolls know it’s eat or be eaten, and girls on the Cali diet are always hungry.

It’s a race to meet Mr. Right, or sometimes – Mr. Right Now, and whether you’re aware or not, the city is swallowing us whole. But hey, something has to keep us on our toes.

The dating scene in uber sunny So Cal is great for a million different reasons, namely the variety of options it offers its chic inhabitants when it comes to courting. This week, I suggest taking a break from those haute Hollywood nights and heading over the canyon and straight to the beach! Just because this swine flu sitch has utterly cramped my would-be sun-soaked Cancun extravaganza, does not mean it will keep me from enjoying a little fun in the sun. Come hell or high water, I am getting a tan this summer and I am trading in my porcelain persona for a not exactly redder is better type deal, thanks to industrial strength SPF. One of my fave parts about California is our thousands of hideaway beaches begging locals only to come and bask in the often too strong but oh-so-tempting UVA. Just make sure you and your date, or friends, stock up on the post excursion aloe, because getting high on sun stroke is a less then likely way to score a second date with your little beach bunny. See you at…well, I’m not giving away my favorite place to frequent, so find your own! I do promise a beachy-keen time, where the people watching alone is incentive enough- of course, that holds true for almost every Los Angeles locale.

Los Angeles has been afflicted with a heat wave and it has the San Fernando Valley rivalling the surface of the sun. This pre-summer preview has inhabitants of the 818 wanting to head for the hills, literally, dressed in their birthday suits and accesorized in nothing but SPF. When temps reach above the cardigan requirement for nighttime outings, it means Hollyweird is fair game for all L.A. club-goers, and if this past week is any indication of things to come, then it’s no doubt that a hot-like-hell atmosphere is approaching. Last week’s Les Deux experience was literal. Apparently the ‘as scene on The Hills’ lounge, was having a two for one special on past affairs. It’s inevitable that in a city so small where everybody knows your name, you’ll end up in a face to face, with a close encounter of the ex-kind. Just when you think these ex-files have been closed for good, you turn around just in time to address the one thing you can’t avoid- your past. Thankfully for me, the close encounter was completely cordial (minus the fact that his newly discovered species was wearing absolutely coveted shoes) and so the urge to annhialte the ex was more than extinguished. In fact, it bordered on disconcertingly friendly territory! All in all, the potentially boiling confrontation was brought down to a simmer, regardless of the L.A. temps. The urge to retreat to the beach was quieted, and the following evenings out with my fave go-getter gals were successful in inducing excitement, rather than being a cause for hibernation. The sleepy season is over and the wild creatures from L.A. are out to play. So as the girls and I enjoy Haute nights in couture, we know our former flings will be stalking new prey as well. As for the inevitable meeting of the exes, if you don’t look like a deer in headlights, you’ll survive with flying colors. Lionesses hunt in packs, so I suggest you girls do the same. Just as faux fur was so yesterday, the same goes for former flings. So, go ahead and get yourself another hot date before your former boy toy does! The season for spring flings is in full swing, and the hunt is on.

In A Los Angeles Minute….

My weekend was a complete blur between the drinks, my girlfriends, and jetlag (so to speak, and so it seemed). My Saturday night started out with the girls. I parked in Siberia to get to a fiesta that had us hiking south of the border (Mexican themed, clearly). The party was great and these hostesses with the most-ess were clearly thinking outside the bun! My little posse however had also rsvp’d to a different engagement and so after about an hour of margarita madness, we were on our way to a cute little neighborhood bar in WeHo with our cell phones, lip glosses, and passports in hand.

Apparently we didn’t get the memo that it was celebrity night at this dive and the stars were slumming for sure (Just trying to keep it real I’d assume, or do they need to ‘up’ their street cred for call sheets?). Well, it looks as though my jet setting was not about to end anywhere near the border, because in a Los Angeles minute I was face to face with gents from South Dakota, and later in the night, from Arkansas. Now it will probably come as a shock to you that these gents were out here to make it big on the silver screen, armed with a not-so-crystal-clear perception of how things really go down in my star-studded city. Now, in a city where casting couches are taken for a ride as often as the new Audi A5’s, a girl’s got to have some rules in order to keep her sanity. These rules of course, are subjective to each gal on the go! For example, one of my favorites is friends don’t let friends date actors. This has proven well for me, because if Fleetwood Mac is right and “players only love you when they’re playing”…well, I can’t waste time on a playboy actor who’s ready to switch leading ladies as often as Fred Segal gets new merch.

So at around 2 a.m., I was ready to head home, jetlagged from another amazing night over the hill and through the canyon into Hollywood. I bid adieu to the cross country nomads that came here with the intention of making it big in a city that has the attention span of a goldfish. I told them to “break a leg,” and walked away, armed with new numbers in my cell, my ‘go-to’ girls, and stories that were well worth the chaos. In a city with a fault line as unstable as the majority of celebutantes and their accompanying headlines, you enjoy every second you have, because like inhabitants near the San Andreas fault line know, everything can change in a Los Angeles minute.

Spring break is in full swing and it’s made bottled blondes and faux tanning as American as apple pie (with a slightly greater health risk than those oh-so-totally-worth-it calories). So as seems to be a recurring theme with my life lately, I am in serious need of an adventure, a change, and clearly a tan before my porcelain skin is replaced with a bronze glow and “pale is the new tan” is no longer making headlines. Lucky for me, 100hookup has conveniently planned a pseudo-spring break for Memorial Day weekend and I am more than on board! I have recruited my fave wing girl, and we’re both excited to leave Los Angeles behind in favor of a trendier resort locale. So, I am advising that you all consider doing the same as well; Palm Desert and Sin City were clearly so 2008 anyway. Before you pack the SPF and leave Los Scandalous to join Jimmy Buffet’s search for his lost shaker of salt, I advise that you prepare yourself for a UV saturated sea-soaked good time. The countdown is on and I have two months until the BFF and I leave sunny So Cal in the hopes of becoming sun lightened in Cancun. Viva Mexico, margaritas and Monsieur Cuervo.

My city is haunted. Everywhere I turn it seems I come face to face with endless reminders of some guy I used to date who has since disappeared into thin air, yet still manages to haunt my existence, proving essentially that most guys are there only to drive us to the brink of insanity. I recently went on a night out with my go-to girls to discuss sex in our city over mid-afternoon martinis, when no sooner had one of my Mademoiselles opened the menu, than she burst into tears.

We were just about to toast to our fabulous single-ness, the scandals we would inevitably endure, and the adventures we’d embark on, when disaster struck in the form of a sobbing mascara-running monster. The girls and I had barely even taken a sip of our now much needed cocktail before we could react to the tears now streaming down her face at the rate of Niagara Falls. The reason? (If your gag-reflex has a low tolerance, I suggest you skip this portion of my not-so-happily-ever-after tale.) She opened the menu and saw the appetizer she and her beau-no-more had ordered on their first date. Now, taking careful concentration to resist the urge to reach across the table and slap her back to reality, the girls and I instead chose to coax her into turning her cocktail into a much more scandalous, more girls’-night-worthy mock-tale.

The most upsetting thing about our wayward girls’ night gone wrong? She managed to get so upset over a guy she dated for a little over three months. Three months! Now, I can get down with the idea of lust at first sight, but seeing this once strong, gorgeous girl fall apart at some half-priced happy hour delicacy was utterly nauseating, enough to qualify as bulimic motivation to all those size-two sweethearts that need the occasional extra encouragement to lose their lunch over something so absurdly disconcerting.

If my city of angels truly is haunted, and victim to a demonic possession of past affairs that refuse to be exercised and instead, find amusement in the somewhat insanity-inducing playful poltergeists that live after death in order to remind you of how happy you once were…well it seems all girls are destined to live a Linda Blair life. I guess what it comes down to is, are you willing to live in Amityville territory? All hauntings are said to occur because something horrific took place there, and L.A. being, let’s face it, less than hallowed ground – I guess it’s just a simple matter of if you are willing to share your affair with ghosts of relationships past? Or are threesomes just a bit too scandalous for your taste? Because girls, how are we supposed to pursue our happily ever after when our once upon a time is out to get us? Clearly Los Scandalous needs an exorcism, an eraser, and some much stronger beverages.