Car-ma

Photo by Lilly Rico

I’ve been driving for 12 years now. Before last June, I had only received one speeding ticket (ok, maybe two, but I cried my way out of the second) and never been in an accident. But then my luck began to change. From June 2009 to December 2009 I was in three accidents; I locked my keys in the car; I had a valet lose my keys; and I had two flat tires. Talk about bad car-ma.

Anyway, one morning I was in a rush to make it to the Coral Gables District Court to pay two of my many traffic tickets. The night before I made it home around four in the morning after a night of partying in South Beach (as if I was in my early 20s again). I tried to disguise my hangover with a cute dress, heels and a lot of concealer under my eyes. As you can imagine, the last thing I wanted was to bump into someone I knew at the courthouse. As I’m grabbing my bag from security I hear “Nikki!” I look and it’s a friend of mine who is there getting her marriage license. As I walk over to say hello, I notice the couple behind her is also a friend of mine. They too were getting their marriage license. While they exchange “no ways!” after realizing they had the same wedding date, I’m sitting there, hungover, thinking about the $250 I’m about to pay. “Well, It was so nice seeing you,” I tell them. “I’m going to head over to the other side where all the angry people are sitting,” I say with a smile. They nod showing me sympathy with their eyes. I still don’t know if they pitied me for paying a traffic ticket or because I wasn’t getting married.

I Choose Michael

Photo by Lilly Rico

I’ve never considered myself to be tall by any means. According to my driver’s license I’m 5’6. I was 16 then, so let’s say within the last ten years I grew half an inch or, maybe, a full inch making me 5’7. Based on my Internet research, the average height for an American women is about 5’4. (Please don’t ask where I got these statistics. I Googled it.) So maybe I am above average, but I wouldn’t call myself tall.

My first boyfriend, whom I dated through college, was 6’2. Then I tore his heart out, threw it on the floor, stomped on it and then moved to L.A. (Don’t worry, I’ve received my fair share of bad dating karma…hence the blog. You can read more here.) For the first time in my life I found myself feeling tall. Did you know the average height for a U.S. male is 5’9? Sigh. The men in L.A. are all below average in height. If a guy is tall in L.A. he usually gets people like my mom asking him if he plays sports. “Nikki, the man is huge. He must be a football player.” I always think he might just be German. And I have a theory as to why the men are short in L.A. Okay, pay attention. A lot (not all) of short guys have little man syndrome, so they want to be cool, so they move to L.A. to try to be cool because in L.A. anyone can be cool with the right publicist. That was just a side note.

So I moved to L.A. and bought into the whole “it’s okay to date a guy shorter than you” idea. Our first date I wore these BCBG heels that I swore made me look skinnier. I was taller than him by about two inches. On our second date I wore a flowy Free People dress and lame gold flats (I don’t even remember who made them), which definitely made me look fat. It didn’t work out, but not because of the height discrepancy. One thing I did appreciate was he never made me feel oger-like. And the height never mattered.

Fast forward two years and I’m back in Miami. I meet this guy who seems to be my height exactly. I was okay with that. He invites me to dinner and I wear my brand new, tan Michael Kors platforms. It was love at first sight (the shoes not the boy). They give me an extra three inches in height, and again, I thought they made me look skinnier. As we’re walking from dinner to the car just-my-height guy looks at me and says “You’re really tall.”
Is this a compliment? “Thanks,” I respond.
“I mean, do you wear those shoes often,” he asks. “because this could be a problem.”
Exactly what do you mean when you say this? “They’re new and I think they make me look skinny,” I say sarcastically. He doesn’t appreciate the sarcasm.
“Well I think they make me look short,” he says half jokingly.
Maybe you are short? “Are you asking me to choose you over Michael,” I ask not jokingly.
“I just rather be the tall one,” he says.
So he’s a clinger and insecure. With my best fake disappointment face I respond, “I choose Michael.”

The Art of Mass-texting

Photo by Lilly Rico

My good friend (who we will refer to as Sass Ass) has had a crush on this one guy for quite some time. He’s a great guy, and I can understand why she likes him, but really, he’s just your quintessential single guy living in Miami. And I don’t mean that in a bad way. He just has no desire to settle down, and well, what girl with a crush wants to hear that?

Sass Ass and QSG (quintessential single guy) have been textually active with each other for about seven months now. You know how it goes: He’ll send her a semi-flirting text to see if she bites; she comes back with something witty, etc. We’ve all done it. Hey, it’s one of my favorite pastimes. Although she does enjoy the rush, Sass Ass has been trying to end all textual intercourse with QSG for a while now because, well, he’s just all text.

After a few weeks of not really communicating, QSG textes Sass Ass “Are you doing anything for happy hour tonight?” Sass Ass thinks, huh, look at that, he wants to maybe hang out tonight. Being that Sass Ass has a freakish amount of self control, I would never imagine her dropping her plans for this guy—but she would definitely write something back witty enough to make him smirk. Turns out Sass Ass was working, so she wasn’t able to meet him anyway, but they do continue flirting back and forth via text until she finally lets it die.

This morning, Sass Ass and I meet up for brunch. Over a few mimosas and eggs, Sass Ass mentions her latest text exchange with QSG. I proceed to tell her I had a few text exchanges with him as well this weekend (don’t worry, QSG and I are friends). “Yea, we texted,” I tell her. “He just asked me what I was doing for happy hour.” A light bulb lights up in Sass Ass’ head. “Wait, do you still have the text,” she asks. I bring out my iphone and guess what it read, “Are you doing anything for happy hour tonight?” Ladies, it seems we have a mass-texter on our hands.

I told Sass Ass not to worry because I had a mass-texter too. I’ll get these texts from this one specific guy that usually come just when work is about to finish, or on the weekends when people start thinking about what they’re doing that night. He’ll text something like, “YOU going out tonight?” “What are YOU doing tonight?” I’m not sure if he knows I know he’s mass-texting, but I don’t mind going along with it since I don’t really know him enough to even be into the guy. Sass Ass on the other hand has reason to be offended. I mean, she was under the impression he was exclusively textually active with her. “How are YOU? What are YOU doing tonight,” she says as she mocks QSG’s textes. That’s just tacky.

When I mass-text, I make sure to use words  like “What are you guys doing tonight,” or “Hey everyone.” Come on, guys, we’re not that dumb. It’s just so generic. Which brings me to the top three ways to know if you’re being mass-texted.

1. If he refrains from using your name and instead says “Hey YOU,” or “Hey girl.” Those are dead giveaways.
2. Timing is everything in mass-texting. If the text comes in during lunch hour on a Friday or in the evening close to when people are making plans to go out, know that there might just be more than one “you.”
3. If the text involves any sort of inquiry about plans or what’s going on tonight, there’s reason to be skeptical.

So next time you receive a “Hey YOU” consider that he just might be adding recipients. Remember, simply ask yourself—or if you’re Sass Ass, ask the texter— “Is this a mass-text?”

When Ex’s Become Besties

Photo by Lilly Rico

Can you ever be friends with your ex? Sure, if you weren’t a complete prick or slut. Kidding. But, based on my research, I’ve found that there really is no cut-and-dry answer. And, more often than not, the power remains in the hands of the dumpee.

Although I like to think all my past relationships ended mutually, with no dupee or dumper, there’s one person I dated – very close to my heart – who will flat-out call my bluff. In the words of 311, our relationship was nothing less than a beautiful disaster (also the first song on a mixed CD he gave me once). After two and a half years of on-again-off-again frustration we some how went our separate ways. Since the “break up” he has managed to be cordial with me always, but not without a hint of resentment and/or sarcasm (not to mention the occasional flirtatious whispers, only an ex can be entitled to, while my new boyfriend was in the same bar). I totally deserved anything he would throw at me, but I still wanted our friendship to be exactly what it was while we were together. As you can imagine, that didn’t fly with him.

A few months back, I received an arbitrary instant message from him. Yes, I’m still on AIM at the age of 26. How do you think I stay so connected (Lizazpr and n017nik BFF 4 eva)? I was pretty surprised, but so happy to hear from him. One arbitrary message turned into a daily exchange of random conversations between the two of us for the next few months. After hearing about his new girl friend and telling him about my dating experiences, I thought, “Are we crossing over? Is this when ex’s become besties?” We even planned to meet for lunch, which we never got around to doing, but I didn’t care, the simple fact that he was open to the idea made me so happy.

So, maybe the answer is when the dumpee has a new great, beautiful girlfriend – that has the height of a Victoria’s Secret model and the legs of a runner – to throw in your face is when ex’s can really become besties. And it especially works when the dumper is conveniently single. Regardless of the circumstances I’m grateful we’re rekindling the friendship flame.

Ironically, he recently broke up with wonderful-tall-and-skinny-girlfriend. This time he was the dumper.

As I was stalking browsing on Facebook I realized that ex-become-besty’s page still said “In a relationship.” I quickly went into crisis mode when I saw this. As his friend, I immediately IMed him to warn him about changing his relationship status on Facebook. See, I recently dumped my ex boyfriend on Facebook unintentionally. I had that gay connection thing where it links you to your significant other. “Nikki Novo is in a relationship with That Guy (that’s what we’ll call him).” I know I’ve just lost my credibility here, but try to stay focused. So when I was ready to change my relationship status BFF Liz warned me to change my privacy settings so my change of status wouldn’t show up on the news feed. But, what I didn’t know was since That Guy and I were connected, I basically dumped him on Facebook before he had the chance to change his privacy settings. Before I knew it, my news feed read, “That Guy is now single” with a broken heart next to it. How mean is that? If he didn’t know we were over he does now! Never again will I show my relationship status.

I did not want this to happen to my ex-become-besty. So, I IMed him and he appreciated it. I did my friendly duty. And that, my friends, is when ex’s become besties – when you warn them of the evils of Facebook.