Guessing Mustache #2 is Younger

Author: Single. Approachable. Girl.
November 28, 2010

At my age (close to 30-ish), I exist in this gray area between dating guys in their 30’s and guys in their 20’s. Typically, the distinction between the two is fairly apparent, but in LA, you can’t always be so certain.


In LA you have guys that dress in shorts and flip flops everyday, make lots of money working out of their home, have mature looking facial features and often suffer from Lost Boy syndrome. A guy like this could be 25 or 35 – especially since the eye wrinkles could be caused by too many months in the LA sun. adidas superstar soldes It’s easy to get confused.


With Mustache #2 (from last Monday’s night-o-karaoke) I can confidently say he is in his mid-twenties. Here are my clues:


Boy with Mustache Flannel


Clue #1: He invited me to smoke pot with the kitchen crew at the bar.


Clue #2: He asked me if the streak of blonde in my hair was natural. (But I’ll be honest, I get that from men of all ages)


Clue #3: All correspondence since karaoke night has been limited to text message. (Big clue, which we originally learned from The Texter)


Clue #4: He asked me to “hang out.” To be exact, he asked me if I wanted to “set up a writing sess this week.” (I had mentioned that I like to write in my spare time and I guess he went with that). I still haven’t figured out how to write a post about him while sitting next to him, but it looks like that is no longer an issue.


Clue #5: He stood me up.


To be fair, I can’t tell if I’ve been stood up or if i just didn’t know how to read his text-message code. Let’s take a look:


After we picked Sunday for our writing sess, and I asked him, via text of course, to tell me the time and place. mu legend zen I anticipated a response like, “Starbuck’s on [insert street] at 2 PM” but this is what I got:


“Sunday it is at esh and [mustache #1]’s place.” (I’ll give you a chance to read that over a few times)


Interesting. adidas chaussures So now this is a group writing sess with mustache #1 (who has also asked me to “hang out”) and some person named “esh.” (group hang out = Clue #6)


When I asked what time, he texted “Early afternoon works best.” (No set time = Clue #7 ).


His responses left a little to be desired in regards to answers to my questions, but I assumed the details would be texted at some point this weekend.


So here we are, Sunday at 3:30 PM with no follow-up texts and no group hang out. Can’t say I’m heartbroken, but I think it’s clear that I’ve been stood up.


At least I know what I want…

Author: Single. Approachable. Girl.
October 12, 2010

Friday night was another Karaoke Night, but this time I was not going it alone and we were at “old faithful” – the same bar where we’ve met gems, such as The Facebook Friender (AKA Chocolate Dip) and Late-Night-Soft-Core-Porn Guy.


But before we went to the bar, my girlfriend and I went out to dinner and were analyzing my taste in guys (I know. nike lebron Shocking). nike air jordan femme She was saying that I’m very picky when it comes to guys and I was saying that I just feel like I know more now about what I’m looking for and what I’m not willing to invest in when it comes to guys. adidas springblade I was painting a picture of a pretty mature guy. new balance blanc A man if you will. air jordan 30 Someone who knows who he is, what he wants and where he’s going but doesn’t take himself all too seriously. It really sounded like I had my shit together.


Then we went to the bar…


That’s where two attractive guys approached us. ray ban pas cher One was very responsible looking with his short haircut, glasses and polo shirt peeking out of his sweater. UGG for Women Boots The other had a more rugged look going on with his scruffy facial hair and unwashed brown hair peeking out of his less-than-white white hat.


Throughout the night we uncovered the following…


Together…they rap in a band. lunette de soleil ray ban (Is it considered a “band” when there is rapping involved? Or is it rap group? Whatever, they have a band and in which they perform rap. oakley ca (and yes. nike air max pas cher I’m white)).


Separately…


The preppy guy (white rapper #1) lives in an apartment in LA, has a stable, well-paying day job and speaks intelligently on just about any topic you can bring up.


The rugged guy (white rapper #2) didn’t mention anything about a job, lives in his parent’s basement in Long Island, NY, and when I mentioned that I smelled a mix of body-odor and stale cigarettes, he said it was probably him.


I will give you one guess as to which one I was most attracted to.


It’s not that I didn’t try to like the preppy guy. I talked with him almost all night.


“Is that a mirror in your pants?” would have sufficed

Author: Single. Approachable. Girl.
July 24, 2010

Flattery_Pick_Up_Lines


As you may remember from My Pinkalicious Move, I recently moved apartments.


I’m embarrassed to admit that I haven’t met many of my neighbors yet, but maybe that’s just the way it is in apartment buildings. Even when I do run into them, we’re merely laundry baskets passing in the night.


But, being a single, approachable girl, I suppose I was bound to meet my single guy neighbor eventually. I just didn’t realize the theatrics that would be involved…


I had two girlfriends staying with me for the weekend and I was thrilled to host them at Chateau S.A.G. I even set-up The S.A.G. Cafe outside my front door with an adorable table and chairs I found at IKEA. Since it was the one and only hot weekend of the summer, we spent a good amount of time at the cafe drinking wine in the early evenings.


So there we are, just three girls chatting away about boys, sex, weddings and birth control when we hear a guy suddenly break into a cappella opera at the top of his lungs. The singing disrupts our gossiping for roughly 10 seconds and then we look each other, shrug our shoulders and continue on.


Just when we start tuning out the singing, one of my girlfriends grabs my arm (looking terrified) and points down the stairs leading up to the cafe. Standing at the bottom of the steps is the mystery opera singer. He’s in his mid-30’s, wearing a green t-shirt and jeans, bracing himself with both bannisters and looking directly at us.


My Karaoke etiquette kicks in and I turn to my friends and say under my breath, “don’t…laugh.” It was a little late for that, but they tried their best to hold it in.


Girlfriend #1 whispers in my ear, “I’m so uncomfortable…I’m starting to sweat.”


In an attempt to wrap up the serenade, I wait for a pause in the song and start clapping. He waves his pointer finger up in the air gesturing that he is not done. I stop clapping immediately and the singing goes on for 15 very long seconds. At the end of his last note, he jumps off the stairs and darts into one of the apartments below.


We wait, but hear nothing but crickets.


Girlfriend #1: Is he coming back?


S.A.G. I don’t know, but I think we just met my single male neighbor. He’s quite good.


Girlfriend #2: He must be on drugs.


In hindsight, it’s pretty remarkable how quickly we were able to carry on with our conversation as if nothing had happened. Apparently we’ve become completely unfazed by druggies and eccentric actor-types in L.A.


It was about 10 minutes later that my friend grabs my arm again. I look down the stars to see the same guy, running toward us wearing a motorcycle helmet. For a moment I was fearful he was going to bash our heads in with the helmet, but he stopped at the top of the stairs, opened the front visor of the helmet and said, “The FBI is after me!”


He then puts down the visor and begins running circles around the apartment complex until he reaches the same downstairs apartment and runs inside. Once again, crickets.


Girlfriend #2: Definitely mushrooms.


S.A.G.: I can’t believe the one single guy in my new apartment building is certifiable. I’m legitimately nervous for what is going to happen next.


We wait for a bit, but nothing happens. We tentatively start chatting again, this time glancing down the stairs every minute or so.


Eventually, we see him walking up the stairs at a normal pace, completely silent and sans props.


With a fake english accent (which goes well with his thick, handlebar mustache) he says he felt it was time he come up and introduce himself to “m’ladies.”


S.A.G.: Hi (cautiously extending my hand for a handshake), I’m [S.A.G.] and I’m your relatively new neighbor.


Odd new neighbor: (Kissing my hand) Lovely to meet you, but I am not your neighbor. I’m an merely visiting my friend who lives in the apartment below.


(phew)


It becomes clear that this guy is harmless and not on heavy drugs. He is, however, a fairly gifted and overly eccentric actor who thought it would be fun to break-the-ice with the girls upstairs with an impromptu showcase.


We engage in conversation with this new-found, odd friend and eventually he calls down to my actual neighbor and invites him up.


I was pleasantly surprised to find that my actual neighbor (we’ll call him Apartment B)  is a funny guy, in his mid-thirties, who is less likely to break into The Three Tenors’ greatest hits.


We ended up spending a good remainder of the evening hanging out with our new friends.


We never did have the heart to tell them that a cheesy pick-up line would have sufficed.



He’s Got Some Balls

Author: Single. Approachable. Girl.
March 23, 2010

I apologize in advance for this post.


This past Saturday, I spent 20 minutes stuck in LA traffic behind this guy:


Balls of Gold


It was literally impossible to look away. For 20 minutes straight I was staring at a gold-plated ball sack dangling from his old beat up truck bumper.


It’s hard to see from this picture, but these are VERY detailed and the sun was hitting them just right so they were practically blinding me – although I’m pretty sure that you’re bound to lose your eyesight if you stare at any set of balls for a full 20 minutes. Thankfully I didn’t have a 12-year-old girl or my grandmother in the seat next to me.


I’m all for free speech and making statements, but this got me thinking…Is this really necessary? I mean, who is this guy that saw these hanging in some store and said to himself, “Now, that is the statement I want to make.” Then, he spent hard-earned money, not to mention the time, to attach these to his truck, securely enough to withstand highway speeds.


And, what is the statement that he is making anyways? I know that guys typically think pretty highly of these things, but gold?…really? That has got to be a lot of pressure for his girlfriend – and you KNOW this guy has a girlfriend. Guys like this always do.


The best part is, he saw me taking this picture and gave me a thumbs up. He probably thinks that I want to run out and buy a set for my man. Come to think of it, I think I will buy gold-plated bumper balls for my next boyfriend. The reaction would be very telling.


BTW – If you’ve ever tried to take a photo of another car while driving, you will understand why I now have 15 off-center, golden-ball photos on my cell phone.