I Like When You Poke Me

There is a new(ish) frontier in flirting.
Not really new...

It started in 2004 and has been public since 2006, and is the most popular social networking sight on the interwebs.

No one will be surprised by this, but it is Facebook.
Obviously.

 

Everyone and their mom has a facebook these days. And everyone and their mom is using it to flirt with people who they wanna see naked. 

I doubt that it is an outlandish statement to anyone, but it still catches me off guard when it happens to me. I often feel like the only people who use facebook for flirting are either 13-year-olds who don't know any better, 45-year-olds who don't understand texting, and people without any shame or who haven't realized that everyone can see when they post "watup sexxxi?" to someone's wall.

Other indicators include: 

When someone randomly "likes" a picture of you...especially if it is a picture that has been sitting around your profile for 6 months or 3 years. 

Or when they start a "poke war" with you and include little comments like " ; ) " or " ; P " or "lol."
I understand that poke wars can occur between siblings and friends too, but when you're just hanging around and someone pokes you...that isn't a great sign about their chaste intentions.

Doesn't that just look like an invitation to imagine someone naked?

Facebook has created more than just a new flirting opportunity, it has also opened up a world of stalking.
In the past, a stalker was someone who followed you around and took creepy pictures through the bushes of you drinking coffee or getting in and out of taxis. Now it seems that a stalker can do just as much following and being creepy from their couch. They can check your facebook to see who you are with and where, and to download new photos of you in your bathing suit, they can check your twitter to learn your feelings about the new Transformers movie, and they can check your Pinterest page (that's a thing, right?) to see what you like.

It's SO easy to be creepy now, and I don't know what to do about it.

You meet someone at a party, learn at leas their first name, and start searching through the host's facebook  friends to find them. Then you click 8 different profiles before finding the one that matches the person you met. You search around their photos and mutual friends (less than 3, it'll be weird to add them, more than 15 and you're golden, FYI) and then decide what to do about it. Send a cheeky message? Just add them as a friend? WHAT TO DO?

General (personal) guideline: wait until the second or third meeting (especially until they have given you their last name or phone number) before finding them on facebook. Otherwise you might seem over eager. 

Personally, if I'm going to flirt with someone not face to face, it's going to be over text, not facebook. Or maybe I'll do it through emails... or telegraph messages...or maybe smoke signals but that requires me to leave the couch.


Moral of the story: Whatever way you wanna make overtures, make sure you end up giving 'em a good "poke." Get it? Get it?

My Ideal Man

I know that everyone has been waiting patiently (and yet eagerly) for me to blog about the qualities I look for in a man.

It is your lucky day!

I'll begin with an aside, though, to set you up for the potentially surprising list ahead (especially if you don't know me super well).

A long time ago Alison and I were mulling over our Lists of 5.
What is that, you might ask?
Oh, I'll tell you.
It's that thing where you choose 5 celebrities you'd get to bone if you had the chance, no matter what level of relationship you're in.
Alison's was pretty standard if I recall correctly: James Roday, Zac Efron, James Marsden...the expected level of hotness in a celebrity wish list.

Here is my list:
1. Jason Segel
2. Seth Rogan
3. Jonah Hill
4. Nathan Fillion
5. Andy Samberg

Did you spot any sort of pattern?
Here, I'll help.

See it now?

Good.

I couldn't find a picture of these three plus Samberg but Google images that bitch and you'll see it holds true.

Nathan Fillion is a bit of an outlier and he is on this list for two very VERY good reasons: Captain Malcolm Reynolds and Captain Hammer. 

As I mentioned before, in my dreams I am married to Jason Segel, and this especially comes in handy when I have to lie about being married in order to stop some random dude from hitting on me.
Señor Segel is a VERY high scorer in the following categories.

Here are three of the main traits I appreciate most in a man friend:

MUST be between 6'2" and 6'5" tall. While he can be between 6' and 6'2" it's just slightly too short and if he is over 6'6" then he is going to be more than a foot taller than me and that would just look silly (for those keeping score at home, Jason measures in at 6'4"). Though...the taller a boy is the farther away his face is, so it matters less and less whether or not he is good looking...I'm going to keep that in mind. It might come in handy some day...

Really OUGHT to be artistic in some way. If he wants to make music, that's great or if he can write, then that's great too. If he paints or sings or acts I'm fine with that. So long as he is passionate about it and willing to share (in related news Jason is a writer, actor, and a musician so...chalk that up to a win).

A boy who can make me laugh is going to rank WAY higher than a guy with six pack abs (though I like when boys are slightly pudgier so that isn't a great comparison). If he is funny and nice and witty, that's going to be a lot more impressive than a Mustang or a Rolex or a fly booty (I don't even need to remind you about how perfectly Mr. Segel fits this criteria...including the fly booty part).

SEE! All three of those are things I really enjoy in boys, and they're all things that Jason is! IT IS PERFECT!

Moral of the story: If I don't reign it in I'm going to cross over into the creep stalker zone of fans...

Stalking and Shocking

Stalking is a major problem in relationships. Women often find themselves the subjects of these unwanted advances and creepy fans.

I am looking out for your safety, here at the Not So Virgin Mary blog, and so, in the interest of keeping all of you un-dead, here is a pair of cautionary tales.

My friend Alison.

That's all you need to know.

Alison is...not good at noticing things. She doesn't notice people staring at her in public places, or that she's about to try and wear that shirt she spilled Bagel Bites on, or that she can't drink half a fifth without getting sick (this based on the fact she's tried it a couple times now and it has yet to go well for her).
There's the back story.
Here's the rest of it: Alison started taking Russian during the Fall quarter of our freshman year of college. In that class she met a boy. His real name is Cole but we call him "Russian Boy." He's not Russian, he's just from the class. He asked her to be 'study partners' and we all know what that means...except Alison. She did not see it coming when he kissed her.
He came to her dorm room, crawled onto her bed, snuggled in and tried to make her study something else (heyoh). I'll describe the following events in her own words, "I only got a hickey because I was busy thinking about sandwiches so I didn't tell him to get off my neck."
So yeah.
They 'studied' together a few times and then she stopped answering his texts and calls part way through the quarter. It was half because he was coming on really strong and half because I might have broken her phone so she couldn't read and respond to texts...who knows the real reasoning?
He got really mopey.
THEN COMES THE CREEPY PART:
One morning Alison's roommate woke up to go to work at 6am. She left the door unlocked. Alison roused a few hours later, confused and bleary eyed but certain of the thing lying next to her bed...a rose. A single red rose. YEAH. That happened. She rolled over and hoped it would go away but no, when I came over later that morning to make her come get breakfast/lunch with me, it was still there.
My theory: he broke in, cuddled with her, left the rose and gave her a single, lasting, final kiss before leaving her forever.
That rose.
A symbol for creepiness for all times.

The second tale is actually kind of scary.
Stacey was our friend during freshman year, but she was a year older than us. We loved her. She was popular with everyone, and that includes creepy dudes. She had been getting weird phone calls for a while now, all from a private number she couldn't call back. They were the heavy breathing sort of calls. You know.
One day she had a lab that got out around eight pm and she was walking across the main section of campus (Red Square) when she got the worst of these calls.
She answered.
"Do you feel safe walking across Red Square all alone at night?"
Here is what Stacey should have done: hung up, gone to a well lit and crowded place, called the cops, and filed a report.
Here is what she did: laugh it off, call her mom to tell her, then come to us and tell us about it. Point: SHE DID NOT CALL THE COPS.

My friends are not good at this 'life' thing.
Obviously.
So don't be like them: don't get creeped on. Or, more importantly, don't be a creeper.

Unless it's facebook creeping, that's unavoidable.

Moral: Don't be Alison and Stacey.