Thursday, August 2, 2012

successful mating strategies for winners.

i just learned what a jumpoff is, and i seriously think i might be one. THIS IS WHY I FUCKING HATE LEARNING NEW THINGS. i was at brunch a few sundays ago with some people in their goddamned thirties who still manage to remain in touch with the cultural zeitgeist despite their rapidly graying pubic hair, and during our TOTALLY ESOTERIC analysis of "50 shades of grey" julia referred to the main character as christian grey's "jumpoff." and i, despite my valiant attempt to use context clues to figure that shit out, was forced to reveal how old and out of touch i am by asking her, "what the fuck does that mean?" OH GRANDMA, WHAT A BIG ROTARY PHONE YOU HAVE. pretty soon i'll be spending my days wandering around in flannel shirts and steel toe doc martens while muttering to myself about the underrecognized genius of eddie vedder and quoting lines from reality bites. allen reached over to cut up my pancakes for me while julia tucked a napkin into my shirt for a bib while she tried to explain it to me. oh no, I'M OLD.

according to my friend the internet, a jumpoff is:

1 a casual sexual partner or girlfriend.
-what is a "casual girlfriend?" isn't that an oxymoron? what woman, once christened with the title of "girlfriend," ever becomes more casual? on second thought, isn't that the phrase that best describes every romantic relationship i've been involved in since early 2005?!
2 a woman of dubious sexual practices.
-"of doubtful quality or propriety." checkmate.
3 anything new and/or hot; especially in reference to a party or material item.

and one might correctly use the word jumpoff in a sentence in any of the following ways:
1 "...after a full night of clubbin', we went to white castles and hooked up with this jumpoff who got it poppin'."
-first of all, i know a black person wrote this because we always make shit plural that isn't. second, what does "poppin'" mean?
2 "my jumpoff never has me going out of my way, and she don't want nothing on valentine's day."
-in my defense, i thought that not wanting anything on valentine's day made me the uncomplicated, low maintenance GIRLFRIEND OF YOUR DREAMS. apparently it really makes me a dumbfuck. le sigh.
3 "yo, your party was the jumpoff." or "go get me the new jordan 'jumpoffs' from foot locker."
-i just can't with these. i literally cannot make my mouth form these words. blame it on my teeth, i guess.

I'M TOTALLY DOING IT WRONG. i've only ever been someone's casual girlfriend, my sketchy sexual practices are totally questionable and probably evidence of some slight mental retardation, and no one has ever bought me any limited edition motherfucking shoes. what is this life? AM I EVEN REALLY LIVING?! over the last few weeks i've had, like, nine awkward interactions with your step-uncle and a handful of other grown-ass men and, thankfully, most of the dudes i know are doing it wrong, too. here's how:

1 the "for old times sake." i had lunch with one of my old boyfriends a couple saturdays ago. this rekindling of our storybook love affair started the way these fairytale romances often do: i got a lewd text from a number i didn't recognize, i texted back "who the fuck is this?!," i received another text a few minutes later along the lines of "oh, my bad, it's ____," i choked back vomit at his use of the phrase "my bad," and then promptly agreed to meet him for a lunch that was sure to be irritating and fruitless as a motherfucker: JUST LIKE CINDERELLA. 

once a relationship is chopped into a million mental pieces before being roasted over an open flame, i rarely have any interest in scraping off what little charred meat is left on the carcass and trying to fashion something edible out of that burnt ass gristle. intellectually, i understand the idea behind getting back together with someone who treated your heart like monkey meat. it's the same reason we have so many old sweaters and shoes; they are broken-in and comfortable, and "getting back out there" and "trying it again" is akin to torture. also, it is hilarious when you think about a hot dude putting his dick in your olshoes. emotionally, though, that shit is suicide.

mostly i was just annoyed. i already know everything there is to know about this dude, and he still thinks i'm the same person he bossed around when i was twenty-four. i want some heady courtship and breathless pursuit, and this was the EXACT FUCKING OPPOSITE of that. for example: i got drunk. like, SHITFACED. at two in the goddamned afternoon. because he was forty goddamned minutes late. why? reason given: i was held up in a meeting at work. real reason: I'VE HAD SEX WITH YOU BEFORE! i don't have to worry about being late, i've hit that already! i know what your asshole smells like! i've seen all three and a half of your sex tricks! i have to be on time for YOU?! pffft, you once licked nutella off my scrotum!

and it's true. I DID. and because i did, i'm no longer a mysterious reature of wonder worthy of his punctuality. the minute he got to the restaurant i was like, "you look the exact fucking same. i cannot believe i wore a jumpsuit." then he flagged the waitress by shouting, "hey, cutie!" across the room and pointing to my (third) cocktail glass while pantomiming a drinking motion. i nearly died. here's the thing about people you used to bang a long time ago: you are forever crystallized in their minds as the person they knew way back when. i don't even recognize that girl anymore. through a mouthful of onion strings and turkey burger he was rolling his eyes all, "oh please, book deal," he scoffed. chomp chomp belch fart chomp. "now what do you think about getting back together?"

i fumbled while setting my glass down and, deciding i was over my limit, he took it away from me and finished it while instructing me to drink some water and sober up. "i hate when i can see food mixing in your mouth," i said as he continued to talk without pausing to either breathe or swallow about the same fucking thing he was talking about six goddamned yeas ago. and then i left.

2 the "bro 2.0" i have way too many interpersonal relationships that blur the line between friendship and fuckship. your best friend's boyfriend is still leaving me voicemails at three a.m. talking about "what is the difference between a trappist beer and an IPA?" and i'm still almost totally convinced that nothing could ever really happen between us, that he just casually takes his shirt off when he's over because it's HOT, not because i'm supposed to be swooning while looking at his CHEST.

that DUDE WHO TOTALLY DOESN'T WANT TO BANG YOU has stepped his fucking game up, girlfriend. you hoes better watch your backs. this is not a game. no longer content to just clap my shoulder while whining about how much money his ladyfriend spent on shoes last week, the new and improved bro is asking about the overwhelming number of feelings i'm always having and offering to soak my mouthguard while straining tomatoes for soup that he is going to offer to spoon feed me. (dear god, MY FUCKING JAW.) "when is the last time that insensitive jerk called you?" he yells over his shoulder from where he stands at the counter doling out my afternoon dose of tylenol and amoxicillin wearing nothing but sweat and running shorts. meanwhile i'm mentally trying to figure out how to give him a blowjob without his dick puncturing my motherfucking eye socket.

but he's not here for that. we are JUST FRIENDS, remember? so even as he compliments the curve-hugging greasiness of my eating pants ("that's gravy!" i proudly announce, a hand over the gross side of my face) while lounging on my comfortable featherbed butt naked while jerking off to what appears to be a photograph of my face he's doodled hearts all over, it is my fault if i get the wrong idea. he didn't set me up by writing a song with my name as the lyrics, i'm the idiot who doesn't understand that having "top of clothes sex" isn't the same as "i want to be your boyfriend."

3 the "you still have this number?!" i am never flattered when some dude is "just thinking about me," especially if more than three days have lapsed from the last time i heard from his ass. in case you're new to the party, a refresher: i have, like, one real self-preservatory dating rule: if i don't hear from a dude i suspect has even a slight, passing romantic interest in me in three days, i delete his number from my phone and mentally move on. simple as that. and it's not about being a bitch. i think if a person is interested in me for real he'll holler at me more than once every couple of weeks. i'm not mad at him if he doesn't, i just understand that he isn't interested in me in that way. because if he was, he would holler. i mean, text me while you're taking a dump or something. everyone knows i don't even answer my phone, so it's not like we're going to have a conversation. but i text sometimes! and if i like you i'll try to text you all the time! except when something good is on tv!

after three days of no discernible interest i delete a dude's number to keep from making a total asshole of myself. i don't make a big announcement, i don't dangle a warning in the hopes that he will valiantly remember HOW MUCH HE TOTALLY LIKES ME, i just erase his contact info and keep it moving. not because i'm so smart and put together that i just effortlessly get over shit, but because I KNOW MYSELF. meaning that i cannot be trusted with a phone full of potential embarrassment on a lonely evening locked in my apartment. trust me, i have left that voicemail. ten of those voicemails. in rapid succession. you know you can't un-leave all that moist, crazy ladybrain you recorded for an hour on his machine. so just delete him already. don't worry, you'll get his number again.

when he calls you weeks/months/years later! and you'll be so disgusted by his audacity that you would never allow yourself to make that mistake ever again! and then you'll feel all proud of yourself and strong in your womanhood! while simultaneously being depressed that a dude who stopped calling three months ago still thinks he has a shot! you would never leave someone hanging that way! who the fuck does he think he is! doesn't he know that you've totally moved on! doesn't he know that you deleted him 1,843 days ago?!

4 the "i think i might be this dude's jumpoff." how can i know? HOW CAN I KNOW?! okay, i'm not dumb, i get it. my casual hot vagina party is doubtfully this dude's girlfriend. and it's mostly not fun. because everyone is so cagey and weird and noncommittal these days. i mean, 99% of us are allergic to the words "i have fun with you." so then we play out this awkward dance similar to the one i'm choreographing now, the routine in which i don't really know what i'm doing and i totally look like i have two left feet. so maybe i'm done with it, because dancing when you don't know the rhythm and can't hear the beat is fucking exhausting. good thing i haven't heard from him in three days.