It’s Tuesday! Did you watch Millionaire Matchmaker last night? What do you think of Patti’s new…features? I’ve missed Destin the most I think, now that I’ve finally figured out how to spell his name properly. I mostly wonder if I can babysit his and Rachel’s child, Sin Halo. (Sad that I know that, or sadder that when I see little punk baby clothes I want to send them? The best ones say ironic things like Mashed Sweet Potatoes Are For Pussies and My Mom Has Pink Hair.)

But that’s neither here nor Sensa Weight Loss. Did you know Patti’s taking that? Did you see it on Twitter? I had no idea. (I had an idea, I guess I’m just bitter that her first choice of endorsement is a weight-loss supplement.) Today’s important advice qwerty qwestion is about crossing that line.

You know, not the line between short skirt and too short skirt or old cupcake to too old to consume cupcake, but the line between friend and LOVAH.

Everyone hates that word. Loverrrrr. Lovah. Blech. Onwards:

Dear FFJD,

My “guy friend” started showing interest (aka trying to make out with) me. we’ve hooked up a couple times BUT then when i thought he had invited me on our first real date he invites his FRIEND along to dinner and doesn’t pay for me! just not that into me?

Love,

Your Friend Is Not a Benefit To me.

(See what I did there?) Punz all around. I’m such a pu(t)nz!

Okay anyway, let’s dissect this. Walking the line between guy friend and person you make out with occasionally is very difficult, if not impossible (but that’s another rich topic for another time when I’ve had more iced coffee and fewer packs of Orbit that are making me bloaty). You know how it goes – boy meets girl, they become friends, someone develops feelings, one thing leads to a few drinks and bam…you’ve smooched (or whatever). Or you’ve always wanted to smooch, or dreamt of smooching, or sung into a hairbrush while staring at a yearbook photo at a time when you still wore socks that daintily folded in half with that little ruffle on the bottom (for me, yesterday).

The transition from friend to formally dating (or going on dates) is really tricky with someone you already know.

I have a few questions.

Do you like him? Enough for him to be your boyfriend? And do you think he feels the same back?

There’s a lot of gray area here, from your friendship to whether or not you want to potentially sacrifice that to take it to the next level (I honestly don’t even know what that means and I used the phrase, but what I’d imagine to be sort of like in Super Mario where you sink down into a tube and then you’re underwater and everything is harder, which is sort of a great metaphor for a relationship, no? And then you get a gold star and you grow bigger and are in a serious relaysh where like, you take trips together?)

He shouldn’t have invited his friend. But it’s important to figure out if you want to transition from friends to something more. If yes, let make it clear. Just be wary that for your sake. DO NOT stay in this sort of hook up/sort of hang out sometimes on the couch watching Curb but not actually dating thing. That is a recipe for disaster, preheated to 375.

What do you think?

Ask FFJD a question for next week on Formspring.

Email: meredith@theffjd.com
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Hello, it’s advice day, and your girl E. Jean Mer/Kelsey/Some guy I surveyed in Starbucks and/or gchatted to figure out the solutions to your ever pressing problems, such as, Will Emma Stone Be My Friend? (a girl can dream/play Farmville), or This Douchewad Won’t Introduce Me to His Parents, or, Am I Normal? (chances are no, but I’m not really the best judge of that.) Let’s tackle today’s qwerty qwestion, shall we?

Dear FFJD,

FFJD – I’ve recently ended a weird non-relationship long distance relationship and I’m COMPLETELY miserable still…it’s been a month. He’s the first dude I’ve ever truly fallen for but I had to end it because he wouldn’t commit to something more. Advice?

Sad Sushi

The power of the Internet interwebs yields: Finding Nemo Sushi. I found him, but I need extra spicy mayo.

Dear Sad Sushi,

Why have I chosen this name? I dunno, I was craving a spicy tuna roll (I know, Sushi With My Girls, yes yes, yes) and I was sad that there wasn’t one in front of me. Kelsey and Zach had gone away on a romantic weekend together (I KNEW something was going on there, I could smell it) and I was left alone to fend for my own dinner. A large Pinkberry, which was caught in the wild forests of Washington. But Sad Sush, don’t fret, I don’t want to make light of your sad sushi-ness.

I’ve been in many a weird what is this I’ve met your parents but like we’re friends but everyones talking and I think about kissing you and once we did when Journey was playing and I thought it was going somewhere and we bbm every five minutes relationship/non-relaysh. They’re unequivocally the most miz, because they never get fully played out and you don’t date for real to see if things can work. My advice for such sitches is to basically have a moment where it comes to a head and you decide you want more (or less), which is seems you have done.

It sucks that he doesn’t want what you want. But, a month isn’t very long, I will say. I’d hope you’re at least getting over the hump, but chances are if this is someone you’re also sort of close friends with you need to give yourself the space from him (constant contact is an EXNAY). If he can’t commit to something more, and that’s what you want, don’t get stuck in the gray area. It’s no fun. And it’s not doing anything for you. Cut off contact, and maybe kiss someone else. And bring me a spicy tuna roll. Salmon. Tuna. Both.

What do you think? Ask FFJD your Tuesday Advice-sicle question on Formspring.

Email: meredith@theffjd.com
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The post FFJD Advice: A Sort of Breakup Is Sort of Broken appeared first on Jewcy.

It’s Tuesday! So…at least it’s not Monday anymore? And the American economy isn’t still plummeting? (Peers out from under Ralph Lauren comforter). On Mondays I usually feel like I want to sit in a ditch and play with pogs all day long instead of doing anything productive. Just as long as I have my particular slammer, I’m good. But on to some advice, shall we?

Today’s query comes from a chick who finds that dudes want to get into her Hanky Pankys after a first date. Onward ho(e)! (Terrible, terrible joke. Forgive me, Kelsey the intern hasn’t spoon-fed me my iced coffee yet today.)

Dear FFJD,

Recently, I’ve come across a bit of a dilemma on first dates. Since when have guys started to expect sex on the first date?? I’ve never been one to give it up on the first date, nor do I plan to start doing that, and I’ve never had a problem with waiting until now. I thought I hit the NJB jackpot with this one guy, until I could sense his disappointment when I didn’t sleep with him after the first date. What could have happened?

–Dazed and Confused

Sometimes I like to speak in movie titles, such as above. So basically, if you’re emailing me asking for advice I like to make up a silly name for you. Next person gets to be Finkel & Einhorn. But more important is this issue. There are a couple of things going on here. First of all – guys like to get down. Get jiggy. (I know I’m speaking in PG-13). So basically, yeah, they want to probably hook up with you. Sure, we can believe that guys are taking you out for your intelligence and pop culture savvy, but there is a significant physical element you can’t ignore.

That’s the difference between a friend and someone you’re dating. And this is true for women as well.

However, there is not and should not be any pressure to do things physically that you are either uncomfortable with or not ready for. If a guy is disappointed that you won’t sleep with him on the first date, tough Tollhouse cookie. I also think that if you’re going out with guys who expect that after a first meeting, you might be looking in the wrong places.

I got a member of the Manel to weigh in on this issue, which I will publish tomorrow. In the meantime, put your thoughts in the comments!

Email: meredith@theffjd.com
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Oh, it’s Monday! Which means that the topic should definitely be alcohol, because frankly, it hasn’t left your system yet. Pretty sure you either have a Second Day Hangover, Mono or Syphilus and you’ve wound yourself up into a ball in the bathroom and BBMed every friend you know asking if Greg is known to…have something remnant of a slide you saw in Phys Ed when you were in 11th grade that made you want to cry. Actually, the thought of it right now is kind of making me want to weep at my figurative desk, that Kelsey is 409-ing. But really, let’s talk about booze because its only four days away from Friday.

It is no secret that I drink like a girl. What do I mean by this? Mostly just clear liquor (vodka, gin) and soda or tonic. Pretty boring, but pretty standard. Every Birthday Pregame I’ve ever gone to, I’ll pour some Skyy in and stir it around with a pink straw. Maybe I’ll go nuts and have a splash of cranberry. But just a splash. How much is a splash? I dunno, enough to turn it pink but not enough to include enough sugar that it will adhere itself to my love handles.

I was talking to a guy friend of mine who said that a girl who doesn’t drink beer is a dealbreaker for him. Thankfully, we went out once and it crashed and burned but now we’re friends. But is something such as an alcoholic beverage enough to dismiss a potential mate? Like, can’t you go into your figurative corners and I’ll have a pink solo cup full of Crystal Light Vodka and you can have some lager or ale or something?

I know plenty of FFJDers, and other girls, who just…don’t like beer. I’m not sure if it’s the taste, the heavy feeling, the fullness, or just the fact that you can’t drink it with a straw that turns a lot of us ladies off to it. But is it fair to judge a girl based on this? Sure, guys often make a hobby out of beer drinking – whether it be some strange pumpkin ale or fancy DogCatHead whatever it is. But I sort of think to not be able to date a girl who doesn’t drink beer (or love it as much as you do) is a little…unfair. I’m not dumping anyone because they don’t drink an FFJD VSC (Vodka, Soda, Splash of cran. Chicks. Love. Splashes. Splish splash.)

Now, I know it’s a little extreme to say that you wouldn’t date someone based on an alcoholic preference. But given how many jappy hours I attend for People Who Shop at Loehmanns or Enthusiasts for Blackberry Messenger (that particular happy hour isn’t fun because everyone is too busy staring at their phones) where this issue comes up. I’ve even had guy friends say to me how important it is that the girl he is dating can do a keg-stand (well, not a keg stand, but be able to toss back some brewwwwskies).

In my mind, I sort of wished I drank beer. This is not an uncommon thought for girls, is it? Or is this just me hopping up and down on one foot trying to please. Granted, for some reason, there is a particular cache to a girl who drinks beer, no? Have I misjudged that as something that guys really like?

Either way, please pass me a straw. No, no, the pink one.

What do you think?

Email: meredith@theffjd.com
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It was a nice vacay in the Poconos, sort of like a Mary-Kate and Ashley movie, but one that devolved into Zach and Kelsey getting in a screaming match (because yes, I, Bethenny, and other celebs bring our interns on vacation with us, as a “reward,” and no, my bags aren’t going to carry themselves. Which is usually Bodyguard Steve’s call of duty, but he had thrown out his back because I made him try to rearrange all my furniture, thrice.) They were fighting over something like where they should live after college (Zach wants to be outside of the box and live in Williamsburg) and Kelsey thought that it was dumb. Mostly we sunned and swam and fished and hiked (I used the elliptical at the lodge and ate seared tuna). We generally rejuvinated. Which is great, because FFJD is back with some welcome additions, some new voices, and some new shit to tackle. (African Safari Louis Vuitton ad was rescheduled due to copyright infringement issues and some lioness troubles).

So let’s spackle that tackle, no? Today’s issue at hand is one I’ve been wanting to cover for a long, long while. Something that happens often in relationships, dating, hookups, and that is issues in mental health. Now I’m being pretty vague here, with good reason – I’m talking anything from

anxiety

to bipolar

to depression

to something in between when you feel like a really sad rock and need some extracurricular help, whether it be via speaking to someone, getting proper medication, or finding other ways to relieve what you’re going through.

As if these issues aren’t hard enough to deal with on your own, when you are lying face down on your bed and feeling like the world is one big heinous minefield and there are no Intermixes, it’s important to understand how to get the help you need, but also how to communicate what you’re going through to your partner, NJB, special friend who sometimes sees your Hanky Pankys, etcetera. It’s tough, trust me. I’ve been on both sides of this fence, and it’s very, very difficult.

How do you manage to keep your personal emotional struggles from bleeding into your relationship? How do you help someone you’re dating through a rough patch? How do you figure out how to get through that yourself without harming someone you love?

And then on the other side of that coin, how do you help someone you’re dating with their struggles? Can you? Should you?

What’s important to understand, however, is that you and only you can solve your emotional issues. Your boyfriend, girlfriend, manfriend, fishfriend, isn’t going to solve them for you. But that’s easier said than done.

You want to let someone else in, but not so far that they too get stuck swimming in your pea soup.

What do you think?

Email: meredith@theffjd.com
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The post FFJD Tough Stuff: Dating And Mental Health appeared first on Jewcy.

In today’s guest post, we examine an old friend’s woe: namely, that she likes guys with epic issues. Call it Mommy Syndrome, maybe? Jo and I have been friends ever since we were awesome (read: uncool) in fourth grade together. She had an unfortunate haircut. I was “ahead of my time,” as like to say, and used to wear about ten scrunchies at once. But that’s neither here nor there, because Jo and I have gone on similar bloggy wogging paths.

SO let’s read on about her horrible choices in men, but wonderful tastes in friends.

“I’m that girl who always gives guys the benefit of the doubt … even when there is absolutely no doubt that he is a complete loser. Why, you ask, does someone who is college-educated, reasonably socially competent, and doesn’t have any noticeable troll-like features, insist upon chasing degenerates and delinquents?

If you can diagnose me, dear god, hand over those purple pills.

It’s not the bad boy syndrome – sorry, motorcycle helmet hair doesn’t really turn me on – it’s just that if I feel a connection with someone, I want to assume the best in them regardless of all the obvious warning signs. I keep telling myself, hey, I’m an awkward person with a penchant for word vomit, maybe this boy didn’t mean to send me that humiliating drunken message or was just kidding when he said he liked “The Bachelorette.”

But usually the drunken message was symptomatic of his frat boy A-game and he actually applied to be on “The Bachelorette” but failed the psych test.

To be fair, my love life does provide endless hours of entertainment for my friends, who frequently compare it to a “Rock of Love: Bus” episode or watching Snooki try to dance (read: waddle) at a club, but sometimes having my personal life provide endless material for stand-up comedian friends (fact) and my future imaginary book deal, just isn’t enough.

But just like Snooki, I keep getting back up again to bust a move, even though I usually end up busting my face. Let’s take a little journey through my most recent disaster dates, shall we?

First there was my ex-boyfriend (let’s call him Jim) who I’m fairly sure lived in the “Fight Club” house (red flag #1). He was from Jersey (red flag #2), he still lived with his parents (red flag #3, though technically he lived in an apartment above his parents, but as aforementioned, the apartment looked like it should be covered in caution tape).

Oh, and then there was that little incident where I thought he was possessed (red flags #4-15). No, seriously – that was my therapist’s professional opinion: that my boyfriend had some sort of otherworldly connection. As Meredith says, you can’t make this drek up.

The abridged version of the long and chilling story is that he and his friends took me (against my will) on a creepy drive through some supposedly haunted road in bumfuck New Jersey. Jim was driving but suddenly stopped the car, rolled down the window, stared out into the woods and started whispering about something being in the car. I’m not even kidding – from that moment on he was a totally different person. He wouldn’t speak to me or look at me, and didn’t snap out of it for days.

Needless to say, we broke up the next week, but that was more about his dislike of Thai food. WHO DOESN’T LIKE THAI FOOD?! (Red flag #16, aka deal-breaker.)

Then there was that co-worker I dated who was a hipster 11 years my senior, had recently checked himself into a mental institution, was still living with his ex-fiance (whom he had asked to marry him after two months), and was dead broke. And by dead broke I mean sometimes he didn’t eat.

So of course, Jewish mother mode kicked in – I fed him, asked my cousin to let him sublet his old room, talked him through his endless emotional issues and even overlooked his tattoo and propensity for crying like a baby … all because we had a connection.

While there are countless other examples in my checkered dating past, I’ll leave you with one last gem. When I was looking for roommates I thought I had found the hidden secret to NYC dating: Instead of living with the cute guy who checks out your apartment, ask him out on a date!

So that’s exactly what I did with this adorable Irish boy whose accent and job promoting Irish whiskey won me over. All was going well until I was leaving a “Jersey Shore” finale party and got a phone call that he was coming over. A little confused, I told him I’d be home in 15 minutes so just wait outside because my roommate was probably asleep.

When I got home, I found out he had banged on my door until my half-asleep roommate recognized his accent and let him in. He was bombed out of his mind, belligerently demanded sex (which he did not get) and refused to leave my bed. I literally had to let him stay over because, despite his diminutive frame, there was no way I could have forced him out without a bull horn and a restraining order.

While this may have been the one time I actually didn’t give someone the benefit of the doubt (Irish boy and I never spoke again), I have since made countless errors in dating judgment and have clearly not learned my lesson.

Like I said earlier: Someone send me a doctor – preferably a cute Jewish one without mommy issues.”

Read more at I Sunk That Low.
Email: meredith@theffjd.com
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Yes, another movie title, one involving an extremely dating dreamy sequence with John Cusack as the lovable Lloyd Dobler, standing outside of Sloane’s window with a boombox in a trenchcoat. Which objectively, should be extremely disconcerting on several levels, especially the trenchcoat, but it’s not because we’re in Teen Movie Land and this is actually totes adorable. One of my personal favorites, mostly because it involves an intense fear of flying at the end. (Of which I am akin. Last bad flight, had a death ray grip on the guy next to me. Who subsequently became an FFJD fan.)

This is less an exercise in realizing that an 80′s heartthrob had the movie potential to be a flasher in Central Park, and more about well….saying what you really mean.

For some reason, and let me break out the sweeping generalizations from my purse (which has gotten much lighter thanks to this past weekend in New York, the real “city,” as opposed to those who use the term “the city” to denote Washington, of which I am averse. While in NYC I almost became the Foursquare mayor of 16 Handles and also realized that there are a lot of cute boys, but they’re probably interns), we don’t say what we mean.

Chicks, I mean.

Well, we spend lots of time in backhanded fights where we use the term “I meannnn” as a sort of passive-aggressive stand-in for “you should know what I mean you stupid bitch”. Which often goes over well, involves some drunken reconciliation probably in a bathroom (because yes, badum ch that’s where shit goes down), and then everything is hunky dory.

But I’m not sure why, especially in the realm of dating, we cannot say what we actually mean.

For example:

What we say: No, I don’t mind if you pass up this intellectual movie I’ve really been wanting to see to binge drink with your friends and discuss the relative hotness of Olivia Wilde vs. Meghan Fox.

What we mean: I am offended. You’re choosing your friends over me. I’m hurt. And I’m going to be a total snot for the following week until you realize what you did, and you’re not going to understand why I’m upset but you better know. And no, I’m not giving you a clue.

What we say: I’ll have an egg white omelette, with salad on the site.

What we mean: I’m going to eat mine, and then all of your fries, but it’s not as bad because it’s from your plate not mine. Plus everything is a lot more delicious if it’s not your own. Which means that I’m also going to have a bite of your burger. Do you want some of my egg white omelette with mushrooms, onions, and definitely no cheese? Didn’t think so.

What we say: I’m flexible, sure, we can play it by ear.

What we mean: I need to know where we’re meeting, when we’re meeting, what I’m wearing, potentially if we’re eating, what snacks I should pack, and whether or not this relationship is headed somewhere serious. Otherwise, I’m probably going to freak out. Also, when are you introducing me to your parents? I’d like to write it in my planner.

This is just a small sampling of the things that we say, but don’t really mean. IN fact, we often mean the total opposite. I for one, have used all of the above in one way or another, dilly dallying around shooting from the hip. Not saying what you mean or think usually just descends into an even larger fight, that transpires after you’ve spent all your time stewing and BBMing Becca about how annoying said NJB is.

Why are we so afraid of saying what we really mean?

Instead of saying what we’re feeling or thinking, we just expect a guy to know what we mean. Because it’s so clear among women. But I guess objectively, no, most people wouldn’t realize that what you feel is the opposite of what comes out of your mouth. Although this really makes almost zero sense.

Men are from Mars, and women are from Mixed Signals That Are Totally Undecipherable. Men are not subtle creatures (excuse me while I continue to pull the generalizations out of my purse, and oops a tampon fell out along the way, at the feet of the hottest guy within a 200 foot radius, obviously). Maybe we’re afraid that if we say what we’re thinking, people won’t like us or will think we’re a bitch or too blunt. Or we’re taught to suppress our true feelings for what people want to hear.

Either way, this isn’t doing anything for anyone. Especially because now I’m sitting here with a figurative egg white omelet instead of what I really wanted.

But really, can I have a fry? NO, one of yours.

Email: meredith@theffjd.com
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The post FFJD: Say Anything (Except What You Really Mean) appeared first on Jewcy.

Here at the FFJD offices, we discuss dating a lot. First dates mostly, or whether or not you should wait for the NJB to call you back or call at all or how to get your hair straightened properly. But sometimes we have to talk about the other end of dating – dumping. Dumping, breaking up, blowouts, crying, barfing, chocolate – it’s all hard. Except for the chocolate part. But really, let’s discuss breaking up for a second.

Break-ups suck. Together said “the hardest part of breaking up is getting back your stuff.” That and getting back yourself, I’d say. But really, ending a relationship, whether it was three months, three years, or 13 drunken makeouts, is still hard. I always debate being dumpee or dumper, which is harder? I’m not sure. On one hand, being the dumpee you don’t have to do the dumping. But being the dumper, you better be sure you’re doing the dumping properly. Not sure I’ve used the word “dump” this much since Sisqo was cool. Onwards.

I can’t tell you when to break up with someone. That’s something very subjective, personal, and almost impossible to advise upon. But, if you decide that it’s come to a point when the bad outweighs the good, that you love her but not enough to try to make it work, then it’s important to dump well. And by dump well I mean with respect and care.

There is no right way to do this either, there are just a few things that ought to be maintained. Nobody really wants to be either party, but let’s discuss some etiquette surrounding it.

Be nice.

This sounds really dumb, but it’s true. Even if the relationship wasn’t long or “serious” (although we’ve discussed that the term is open to interpretation), this is someone that you dated. You, I’m assuming, have seen them naked, even with some lights on. You saw them stand in front of the mirror and make pouty faces. Therefore, treat him or her with respect. But that doesn’t mean sugarcoat, or be condescending.

Be Honest.

Don’t lie. Really, don’t. For several reasons. It’s not fair to you, and it’s not fair to them. Although it may suck and hurt and he or she doesn’t want to hear the real reason that will maybe make them sit along wistfully and or sobbing violently in a Barnes and Noble and then ponder getting another slice of coffee cake, shoot from the hip. It’s really important, especially if it’s someone you once loved or love and who loves you back. Nobody likes being dumped, but reaaally nobody likes being lied to. Especially because you, in my opinion, owe the honest truth to the dumpee. That way, you can both learn from the relationship and move on appropriately and know what to work on and maybe in her next torrid affair she shouldn’t always pick fights about your mother or something. It’s important to know what didn’t work so that you know what does in the future.

Not to mention – if there is another person involved, the dumpee will probably find out in the next five minutes when you bring her to your formal. It’s better to be upfront about it now.

Always do it in person.

You have to do this in person. I don’t care if it’s hard, or if you don’t wanna, or if you’d rather sit at home at watch Scrubs reruns and wonder why the janitor guy is such an asshole to Zach Braff’s character, but really, if you care about someone, dump them to their face. Everyone deserves that at least. No phone, NO email, no text. Really.

Also – do this in a nonpublic venue – chances are there will be crying or screaming (hopefully not),  and it’d be better if you weren’t seated next to some college students or hipsters at a coffee shop who are really annoyed you’re yelling over their Adele.

What do you think?
Email: meredith@theffjd.com
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Let’s talk about budgeting. Something I’m terrible at sometimes. As in, this past weekend in Atlantic City, I bought a magnet that said “Oops, I spent the grocery money on shoes again.” Which is weird, because I don’t remember licensing my own sentiments and statements for reproduction on fridge appliques. I’m probably owed some royalties, but I’m too busy being buried under a pile of receipts from Bloomingdales.

I received an apropos question on the FFJD Formspring (srsly, ask me anything! Like, “whatever happened to Missy Elliot?” or “my boyfriend smells, what do I do?” or “can I intern for FFJD?” The answer to all of the above is yes. But only if you’re willing to apply body glitter to my feet on the hour, every hour.

The question posed, aside from shoe-shopping, was actually about budgeting while dating. And while most of us don’t have Benjaminz coming out the yin-yang, it’s an important thing to consider.

Money in general is sticky – awkward, polarizing, and difficult.

Whether it’s remembering to pay your Comcast bill on time (SERIOUSLY what are you charging me for, all I watch is E! and Cake Boss) or trying to figure out whether or not you can spend a little more for that extra spicy tuna roll, money is hard. Rent and health insurance and shoes are very difficult to juggle.

Money issues are even harder when it comes to dating. Finances ends about 75% of marriages (I made up that statistic, but I know it’s high).

I get asked a lot about money and spending on a first date. Overwhelmingly, I think that it’s just important you go somewhere thoughtful over nice. Or at least somewhere you can talk to each other.

More than anything, it’s important to be conscious of someone else’s financial situation before you plan on dates. There was an instance where I suggested a fancy place (too busy thinking about that mysterious freckle on my Skinny Arm and whether or not my pinkie toe is supposed to curve in that direction) and a guy took me there at my suggestion. I later found out he was on a serious budget, and felt like a colossal asshole for not being more sensitive. Be more sensitive, but also speak up if somewhere is absolutely out of your budget. Not only should you not resent someone for making you go somewhere that will impact your spending abilities, but also just suggest a different spot.

If you have different budgets, there are still a lot of great things that you can do for an inexpensive date. The point is you’re trying to get to know someone, and not their wallet. If that’s what you’re going for, so that you can be on Real Housewives and wear only rhinestone tops and wedges (seriously, something about rhinestone/beaded tops and Real Housewives go together like FFJDers and butter spray), well…I’ll pretend I’m not judging you.

Often it can be intimidating for guys to try to keep up with a girl who not only makes her own money but also has a higher standard of living. It’s something that men have to deal with more than women – keeping a girlfriend or hookup in the style to which she has become accustomed – which is one peppered with manicures, trips, and JBrands.

In the way that there is pressure from men to wine and dine you, there can be pressure to offer up some Hanky Panky as a thank you. You want to own what you have and where you come from, so you should never feel any pressure to hook up with someone just because they’ve spent money on you. You’re not here for tit for tat, literally. Dating can be expensive, but it doesn’t have to be.

However, it can also be reversed:

Dear FFJD,

Do you have suggestions for “budget-dating”? I’m in grad school and $$ is tight, but most guys I meet are not. I don’t expect pricey dates, but I am sticker conscious and I don’t like feeling like I owe something because I’ve been wined & dined.

-Frugal Fiona

Yeah, I made up that name. Sorry Fiona, I needed it to be signed with something and I wanted some alliteration and it’s making me think of the princess from Shrek. But you are not an ogre. Let’s discuss “budget dating.” There are plenty of ways to have fun without spending a lot of money – art galleries and museums, picnics (just be sure not to get ants in your pants/jeggings), dinners at home/ordering in, a comedy show or stand-up, eating at home and then going out for a drink (latent alcoholism, but I do like a nice cocktail). However, Fions, this is also partially your hang-ups with being taken care of, I can tell. So if you’re going out with a guy, be thankful and let him treat you. You don’t owe him a makeout.

You just have to be a little more creative with the money you do have. Which is what matters anyway – everyone can spend money on someone for a first date, but not everyone can cook up something good.

(ZING!)

What do you think?
Email: meredith@theffjd.com
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Which really used to be one of my favorite-ist Destiny’s Child songs. Is that the one where they’re in rotating-colored rooms and Beyonce had blonde crimped hair and that other chick was still in the group who they booted and now does infomercials?

The title of this post, in keeping with the rest of my 90s and 00s song enthusiasm (just wait til I find an FFJD post title that includes lyrics from widely heralded Insane Clown Posse), actually has to do with Kim Kardashian. Because doesn’t everything have to do with Kimmy K? Perfumes, dog leashes, diet products, Kleenex that’s especially curvaceous, etc.
So Justin Kimberlake got engaged to Kris Humphries in a really intimate and subtle People Magazine cover. Her $2 million dollar ring was both tasteful and scented.

But what I really want to discuss is the fact that Not so Lil Kim is marrying a man who shares the same name as her mother. And not just phoenetically, they’re both named “Kris” with a K. Kinky!

Would you ever date someone with the name of a relative or sibling (or parent?)

I know its stopped myself and friends before, even if not consciously. There’s something odd, admittedly, about making out with someone who goes by the same moniker as your older brother. It sounds a little silly, but I think on some level its just weird. You have a lot associated with the name of a family member – memories of Thanksgivings past, battles over the bathroom growing up (um hi fyi to brothers everywhere, thanks for putting up with our hour-long eyebrow-plucking sessions). Can you detach your memories with a name for someone new? Would that ever be a dealbreaker?

I know it sounds silly, but I think Freud would probably have a field day with Sir Kims a Lot. Their meeting would probably involve product placement and unresolved daddy issues. Plus, this is going to be extremely confusing in cell phone address books, place card settings, and embroidered Frette bathrobes.

What about dating people with the same name?

FFJD Lady of the Year recipient (the trophy was a bronze frozen yogurt) Bethenny Frenkel claims to have “dated every Jason in new york.” What if you’ve had a terrible experience with a Jeff, would that impact your seeing a different guy with the same name? Do some of those sentiments carry over? I think they do, even if only subconsciously.

I say yes. But maybe for Kim, its just easier, she doesn’t have to learn how to spell something Knew.

Email: meredith@theffjd.com
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