The candles are lit and I smell like I just rolled through a lavender field while  smeared in pumpkin pie — the chosen arousal scents for men. THIS is where the magic happens and all I’m missing is the music. Everyone’s got their own groovin’ mixtape and there’s a bunch of bread online that tells you what they think a girl would like to hear.

I’m going to tell you what this girl likes to hear :: boom chicka bow-wow ::

• Alannah Myles: Black Velvet
  This song is sexy, sultry, and her voice sounds like she smokes a pack a day. I love metaphors, similes and anything that brings you to your knees…

• John Mayer: Slow Dancing In A Burning Room
  He’s the ultimate douchebag, but he still makes great music. But if a boy ever told me he wanted to sell all his stuff and snort me, I’d probably run.

• Usher: Nice and Slow
  Girls are like cars — sometimes you need to warm ‘em up. Generally this means nicely & slowly.

• Nine Inch Nails: Closer
  There’s nothing sexier than saying, “I wanna F-you like an animal.” Seriously. Go try it, and then tell me the results. If she slaps you, it means she really REALLY likes you.

Desperate times call for desperate measures. Except women can smell the putrid scent of desperation from miles away. It’s bad business sense to ask an investor who turned you down: “Thanks for your time…but can you recommend  some of your other rich friends that would be interested in this venture?”

Sames goes for dating. Why in the world would you ask a person who just turned you down: “Thanks for your time…but can you recommend some of your other hot friends to me?” If you’re a cool cat, I’ll suggest that anyway. But the reason I probably said no in the first place is because you came off creepy & douchey. Asking me to set you up with my hot friends just confirms the fact you’re both. Don’t do it!

Last week, I received a polite email in my inbox for a guest blog! And here’s the twist, I actually went on a couple of dates with the boy awhile back. I wrote about his bad manners here, but that’s because he’s wrote about me first here. It’s all water under the bridge…so, read my guest blog over at gkdating.com.

Want a guest blogger on your site? Feel free to email me!

This started me on my journey of blogging and instigated my very first post! It’s been a year since this was filmed and it still cracks me up…enjoy!

And Yes, I know I look like a mess in the still frame shot above before pressing play. But YOU try taking a sexy photo of yourself while mid-conversation point!

Boy game and girl game are two very different things. Let’s be honest, I would never want to compete with the plethora of dating coaches/relationship experts that exist in the Bay Area because…I’m just not that kinda girl.

But I get it…heck, I’ve been there, I’ve dated a hobo in disguise too…well…reformed vagrant of society. Hers unceremoniously dumped her, mine bicycled off into the sunset becoming a born again Christian — it’s all very San Francisco. And I’m in love with San Francisco…the kinda love that makes you swoon and feel like a stampede of cart-wheeling bunny rabbits squealing “YAY!”. I love the ambiguity of the city and its people but it comes with a price. The admission fee into this carnival-esque scene means that I’m going to have to ask a lot of questions: Gay? Straight? Vegan? Married? Child-Support? Homeless? Do you like America?!?

So, girl game is essentially navigating the murky waters of the dating pool in 4″ heels. BTW please don’t pee in the pool. All the excess chlorine has already stripped many of their boldness (a common complaint of SF-daters). Where did all the boldness go? To the gays, who comprises 36% of single bread in the area. I completely adore the fabulously gay out-of-the-closet-down-the-hall fellas because they understand confidence — the ultimate aphrodisiac. Death to oysters, chocolate and whipped cream because NO ONE feels sexy stuffed to the gills like a beached whale. Is it no wonder that the growing rate of obesity and overweight Americans contribute to the dwindling 44% of those that feel sexually satisfied in their lives?

That’s right, I said it! After reading this blog post, you should get your tush to a gym and work it out.

Remember that almost crazy blind date that didn’t love America?

I couldn’t bring myself to actually go on a physical date with him because during the middle of our phone conversation I realized I was clenching my teeth and my knuckles had turned white — I was agitated. A higher power intervened and disconnected our cell phones with some heavy static. When he called back to continue our conversation I opted not to pickup. Instead, I sent a polite text message the next day:

I’m going to respectfully decline our upcoming date because all I’d do is argue with you. And that’s not a good place for me to be. Hope you find what you’re looking for.

It was short, simple, to the point and exactly the type of message I’d want to get if roles were reversed. Because I can respect a person who deals with life head-on, instead of the non-confrontational Houdini method of choice boys like subscribing to. However, I was utterly unprepared for the onslaught of words that followed:

1. Sorry you thought we were arguing last night. It was definitely not my intent to “argue” with you. So, I apologize if it came across as arguing.
2. But, I do like to discuss with people what the situation is and get their opinion. So, I thought we were discussing fashion, art, and design market dynamics.
3. That way I sometimes learn a new perspective…or other people learn a new perspective. I thought we were just dicussing the dynamics of fashion, art & design.
4. But, I must have conveyed the discussion poorly because you thought we were arguing. So, my apologies about that. I feel bad for making you feel that way.
5. I love to meet new people and learn new perspective, and we were discussing perspectives last night.
6. But discussing perspectives, I generally find that you’ll have a range of perspectives that differ. Then, you’ll find a range of perspectives which are similar.
7. So, somewhere there are also similar perspectives. So…if you prefer not to meet, I understand. But, I think it’s always fun to meet new people.
8. Who knows, maybe I can set you up with somebody you might life. I’ve set up about approximately 50 dates for friends in the last 2 years. Anyways…let me know.
9. Have a great day!

NINE text messages. In a row. I had to shut off my phone because I was in a meeting. Besides my own practical safety of not wanting to meet a crazy, I’m not sure I’d want to be setup on a date by a crazy. Because crazy people befriend more crazies and I’m crazy enough as is.

On a scale of 1-10, how hot would you rate…

Yea, I’ll admit it…I was recently rated a 3 — I didn’t argue. Maybe that’s why I have deep-seeded dating issues because I’m aiming for a 6, 7, 8…the bread that’s wayyy out of my league. I should go dumpster diving and slum it. Do you think I can find good bread while digging through the trash? Because the saying goes: One man’s trash is another man’s treasure. And I am a diamond in the rough, like a piece of coal.

There’s a quirky theory that runs rampant through the streets of San Francisco — that at best, only 6′s & 7′s exist here. The belief is if you transplant a San Francisco “10″ to any other place (Las Vegas, Los Angeles, etc.) they’re only really a 7. Gee…that grass sure looks greener on the other side…Good thing I’m a 3, so I don’t even have to deal with those calculations! I just find it disturbing that people even rate others, like some review on yelp. Stop complicating your life because you’ll get stuck in the decimals. Honestly, there are more important things to spend my time on — how to increase my net worth.

However, even though I’m a 3, I’m actually “hands down the best kisser EVER” …urbandictionary said so.

Dear Mr. Right (or Mr. Right Now),

We haven’t been properly introduced but I’ve dreamed about you ever since I was a little girl and old enough to wish on stars. You’re my star — knight in shining armor coming to rescue me, your damsel in distress. When we meet, I’ll know it’s you because I’ll be overcome with emotion equivalent to an asthma attack and you’ll sweep me off my feet, tossing me over your shoulder like a fireman…or pirate. I’ll exclaim to my girlfriends that, I’m gonna lasso that man, and marry him! because you give me goosebumps, heart palpitations and even come with joint healthcare!

You won’t need lines, or gimmicks, or routines, because you’ll have me at “HELLO” — actually words won’t be necessary at all. You’ll look deep into my eyes and fall head over heels where you’ll promptly whisk me away to our own private island / chateau in France / winery in Napa. Not only will you be rolling in dough from saving the lives of starving children in Africa, you’ll have made it big during the dotcom boom but have the sensibility to pullout before the Great Recession.

You’ll understand that when I say, “Do you want dessert?” what I really mean is “I want dessert, but I’m too much of a pig to eat it on my own.” But even if I gain 5, 10, 50lbs, you’ll still think I’m sexy and F*able. But please, never when I’m not in the mood…

You’ll throw rocks at my window in the middle of the night to capture my attention and hold a boombox over your head, professing your undying love in the middle of a thunderstorm. You will not be gay. You’ll burst in the chapel and save me from marrying the douchebag standing to my left, because you have the sixth sense to help me even when I don’t know it myself.

And I’ll wait for you because I’m a princess — my daddy told me so! From the moment I could comprehend, I’ve been force-feed feeble tales of Cinderella, Snow White & Pocahontas. The Little Mermaid ain’t got nothin’ on me because I already have both my feet. No flipper babies for us!

So, what do you say, Mr. Right? Let’s go get hitched and ride off into the sunset together…

Yours Forever,
A douchette baguette

My brother used to lament that Asian men were the plankton of the dating totem pole. He was constantly griping about how his slimmer physique = less masculine = perceived gayness. At 5’8″, he’s average height but would never be considered tall by American standards and social norms dictate that the boy should be taller than the girl. He blamed it on the portrayal of Asians by mass media. According to his theory, I fared marginally better because Asian girls = exotic = sex fiend nymphomaniac.

There’s a term for bread obsessed with Asian girls and after moving back to the Bay Area, I run into this type of boy a lot. What’s even creepier is when I’m given a passing grade by his parents based on my ethnicity! Because somehow my chinky eyes = I’ll take care of you forever, even when we’re old and gray. That type of comment should be reserved for an individual’s character & personality; never race or background.

Racial profiling exists — especially in the dating world. I understand that people have preferences, but limiting yourself to ONE type of bread means that you’re closing yourself off to the other possibilities of carb-laden goodness. And bread is always much more inviting dressed up in butter / cheese / nutella — think of the possibilities! Yum.

There’s a phenomenon that happens during online dating, word of mouth dating and pretty much any type of dating where I’m not meeting them face-2-face in person during the round one bout. When hundreds of profiles are available at your fingertips, it’s common to sift through them like resumes — searching for accomplishments and passing judgement based on skill + qualifications. But if you’ve ever been on the hiring side of a job interview, candidates can be “good on paper” and bad in person.

I’ve met boys that go out of their way to tell me they’re “good on paper”. What is that suppose to mean?!? Is he trying to advertise his above average 5th grade reading level? Or is he telling me that he no longer lives with his parents? I can’t help but think that he’s actually looking for a gold-digger, but then becomes sufficiently miffed when the goldfish eats him out of house & home.

Boys tell me that padded bras are the devil’s incarnate because it amounts to a whole lot of false advertising. I hate false advertising too — there’s only so much guesstimating a girl can do with her hands.