The movie When Harry Met Sally posed the controversial question--- can men and women be friends? The answer: nope. Harry and Sally blew off the prospect of romance time and time again to preserve their friendship, but in the end, they finally relented. Check out the clip below for some spot on writing by Nora Ephron and to remember how cute Meg Ryan was before all that horrible plastic surgery.
We at the Blow Off hope your New Year's Eve is just as life changing as Harry's and Sally's.
Spoiler Alert: this is the end of the movie. if you've never seen it, wtf is your problem?
I had this tendency in my dating life to get in a little too deep with guys I wasn't really that interested in--- sadly, just for the sake of being with someone instead of being alone (see the six month blow off). This is a painful admission for me, considering that prior to being in my current relationship, I've always thought of myself as someone who was good at being single.
We had to resurrect this post in honor of the holidays.....from one of our loyal readers. Happy holidays everyone!
"It was Christmas. I had just spent a small fortune buying him all kinds of super rad gifts. Three days before Christmas I got a text that said 'I can't do this anymore. I'm sorry' That was it. No phone call, no explanation, and no thank you after the fact for the aforementioned super rad gifts. It was such a break up by post it kind of a moment. By the way 'guy', wherever you are...I bought my husband a motorcycle for our anniversary and I'm taking him to London for Christmas. You totally missed out jerk! (hey, if any of you tell my husband about the trip before Christmas I will have to kill you!)"
mums the word on the London trip reader, but fyi, i would like a new handbag for Christmas (preferably miu miu).
In 17 days, 2009 will be over and we'll start a new decade. In 301 days, my twenties will be over forever and I'll embark on my fourth decade of living. I can't really say I'm totally looking forward to it. Many of my friends are also turning thirty this year and I think we all have a sense of doom mixed with excitement. It's sort of been the unspoken elephant in the room...our twenties are over.
Those who have known me long will remember how sad I was when i turned 20, because it meant I would never ever be a teenager again. And my twenties were exponentially better than my teens. That said, all 30+ women always talk about how much they love(d) being in their thirties. Apparently, it's the decade where you really feel "comfortable in your own skin." According to them, you become more confident and have a better understanding of exactly who you are. And your sex life gets better than ever. 30+ women make it sound like when the big 3-0 rolls around, a magical fairy arrives at your bedside, waves her glittery wand, and erases all your insecurities, inhibitions, and doubts. Now, that would be awesome. I can't help but think it's all just a ploy, like when women say childbirth really isn't that bad.
Truth be told, I feel pressured to make all these big decisions and life changes while I'm 29....somehow i know turning 30 means i won't be hearing "but you're so young" from people anymore. And I will definitely miss hearing "this is what your 20s are all about." It was a ten year long excuse for confusion, indecision, and total panic.
I've been sitting on this post for a week now, partly because I didn't want to jump on the Tiger is a Cheater! bandwagon and bring any more attention to this than it already has; and also because I don't have any personal cheating stories, so I wondered if I have any right to contribute to this subject.
But this can't be avoided any longer. Just this morning there was a buxom blond on The Today Show, talking intimately with Meredith about her affair with Tiger that lasted over a year.
Also announced: Jenny Sanford, wife of South Carolina Governor Mark Sanford, has filed for divorce, unable to reconcile their marriage after he admitted to an affair with an Argentinian woman this past summer.
While these extra-marital affairs in the limelight really shouldn't reflect our own lives, there is a level of fascination to them. I guess it's the idea that it can happen to any of us.
Back when I was in 6th grade (de Vargas elementary school; class of 1992) i.d. bracelets were all the rage. If a guy got you one with your name engraved on the front, it was true love. I snagged mine from one of the cutest boys in school, Scott Miller. He was like an eleven year old Brad PItt. Scott and I were friends and I had a HUGE crush on him. Every time we had new seat assignments, I prayed to the heavens that he would be at my table. And when god finally listened, we got kicked out of class for talking too much. it was a whirlwind romance. Being the liberated feminist eleven year old that I was, I asked Scott out. In those days we just said "will you go with me." Go where? No idea. I asked him on the sidelines of his basketball game at lunch and he replied with an ever so confident "sure." I later came to find out that his pencil box had been decorated all year with the acronym: S.L.S.F. (Scott loves Sara forever). It was so romantic.
Scott finally gave me an i.d. bracelet from Things Remembered on the last day of school. I was at the mall with him when he did it. It had my name engraved on the front and "love, scott" engraved on the back. I thanked him with...a kiss on the cheek. I still think my prudishness was what tore us apart. He always wanted to go behind the portable buildings (the make out spot in our grade school), but i was too nervous. The furthest we ever got was holding hands ice skating. I wanted to make out with him, i just didn't know how. As far as I remember, Scott and I never had a break up talk. In junior high school, we went our separate ways. SLSF went out with last year's school supplies. He was still popular with the ladies, while life dealt me acne and a unibrow. As for the i.d. bracelet, I tossed it out my bedroom window and months later my dad found it while he was mowing the lawn. When I went home for Thanksgiving last month, i found out my mom had kept it all these years. It's still too big for my wrist, but i took it back to LA with me. It's a sweet reminder that in sixth grade, i really had it going on.
Spencer Pratt, THE BLOW OFF has exiled you to Douche Bag Isand for breaking up friendships and for just being gross, annoying, and lame. We're continuously creeped out by the fact that you look like an albino Christopher Walken (no offense to Christopher Walken or Albinos). You're worse than a douche bag, you're that not so fresh feeling. Here's a complimentary ticket to take Heidi with you!!
Lucky D's comment on the 0 to 60 to 0 BLOW OFF gave us an idea, what if there was a douche bag island where all the worst blow off culprits could be exiled to....who would you send there?
(remember, girls can be douchey too).
The President of Abagofdouche Island would probably be Jon Gosselin, but I barf a little everytime I see the guy, so we won't put his picture on this blog. Comment below on who you'd exile and we'll make it happen.
2 Days in Paris is like finally watching a Woody Allen movie told from the female POV. And how can you not love a film that pairs Julie Delpy and Adam Goldberg ( the guy who delivers one of the best lines in Dazed & Confused: I just want to dance)?
Julie Delpy doesn't get enough credit for being a female auteur. She wrote, directed, composed all the music, starred in, and edited the movie. Lines like "it always fascinates me how people go from loving you madly to nothing at all" get me every time. And, it's so refreshing to see a female character with commitment issues who's not portrayed as a slut or a bitch.
Spoiler alert: this is the last scene of the movie, so do yourself a favor and watch the movie before tuning into this clip!
I've only gone on one blind date in my life and it was pretty awful. I had lived in LA for a couple of months and there was a nice Persian boy that my aunt wanted me to meet. That should have been my first red flag. Persian women are notorious matchmakers, but they pretty much suck at it. Just because a guy has a job and isn't married does not mean he's a candidate for a love connection. Plus, because the only Iranian guys I've ever really known are related to me, I've just never been sexually attracted to fellow Persians.
Anyway, we met at Firefly in Studio City which was at least a great restaurant choice. The guy was sweet and actually pretty cute, so I decided to give him a chance.
BUT strike 1 + strike 2 = BLOW OFF.
Strike 1: He didn't order a glass of wine, because he was observing Ramadan. Hmmm, this is actually two strikes in one. I can't date a guy I can't share a bottle of wine with and I can't date a guy that religious. I almost laughed out loud when he said he can't make out during Ramadan either. Maybe I'm securing my place in hell, but I only believe in God when it's convenient and I'm not a fan of organized religion. Luckily, my Muslim grandma can't read English and doesn't know about this blog.
Strike 2: This was the big one. He spent the bulk of the dinner conversation talking about how much money he makes. NO JOKE. Why do guys think this is attractive? You say "I make a shitload of money" but all I hear is "I have a tiny penis." I don't care that you're the VP of a cell phone company or that you drive a $90,000 car, jack ass.
Needless to say, we hugged good bye at the end of the night. I got into my mini cooper and he got into his mercedes. He didn't call me and I didn't call him. I called my mom after the date to give her the post-mortem. She didn't seem too phased about the money thing, but when I told her the Ramadan part, she flipped. What can I say, I'm a product of infidels.
The Wonder Years is hands down one of the best TV shows ever. It explored the 60s before Mad Men, it gave us insight into the teenage psyche before My So-Called Life, and it gave us the more talented Savage brother (uh, Boy Meets World anyone?) Also, if we could have Daniel Stern narrate this blog, we would.
Above all else, The Wonder Years gave us the romance of Kevin and Winnie. Below is probably the best scene from the series. Kevin and Winnie see each other for the first time after she dumped him nine episodes ago. Things between them are awkward and distant, but when Winnie gets into a car accident, Kevin waits at her house till the sun goes down. So with that, here's to the people that blew us off, that we still look back on fondly....
I should have known better: red flag circus. First date, he exclaimed mid-conversation, "where have you been all my life!" Second date, he asked me to look at a new apartment with him, saying "WE can throw dinner parties here!" Third date (all pre-sex), he looked longingly at me with his big brown eyes: "can I follow you around like a puppy dog?"
Once relaying this information to a few guy friends, they replied unanimously -- "RUN...he must have been abused by his father as a child, no man says these things and is psychologically stable." But I was still trying to figure out if I even liked the guy. I did know that I liked the attention. So I idiotically continued with the fourth, fifth, sixth date, hoping against odds that he would prove to be my emotionally available knight.
The dates were fantastic, I had a blast. He pulled out impressive stops with concert tickets, fancy dinner reservations, secret bars and always calling when he said he would call (plus some). I continued to be open to the idea, but not too available. And then the inevitable happened: he suddenly stopped contacting me one weekend. No email responses, no text messages, no phone calls. Confused, I let it slide at first: a reasonable explanation must exist, he said he loved me last time we saw each other! A few days passed and then Facebook revealed the truth. 3 albums of a party surfaced on his page depicting him on the floor entangled with scantily-clad women and men in a drug-induced faux-orgy. (A few photos followed him dry-humping a girl; I then proceeded to learn everything about said girl the internet had to offer. I now know her home address, her college activities and the details of a lawsuit her mother faced in the 90s.)
Suffice it to say, this was a surprise to me. He had just shown me photos of his childhood treehouse, prepared a chicken dinner for me and asked me to go camping with him and his friends. Had I mis-read his intentions? No. I had just been blown-off.
Begrudgingly, I prepared myself for a "state of the union" conversation with this boy that to this day I still don't know if I even truly liked. Turns out he felt like he could not let go of his party-self, even though he "wanted to want" to be in a relationship. i.e Lame. We ended things on friendly terms and continue to run into each other at social events where we cordially propose meal/drinks without ever actually making plans. But he still comments on my Facebook page from time to time.
Not sure there's any scene more cringe worthy than Mikey calling Nikki over and over again in Swingers. A little advice from the blow off, no more than one voice mail or text message in a 24 hour period. Next time you're tempted to send text #2...tell yourself you're too fucking money for that.