5 People You Want To Avoid Eye Contact with on The DC Metro

Despite nearly constant track work, broken escalators, and elevators that occasionally break midway between the ground and the underground, the DC metro can be an efficient way to get around the city. Every time I’m on the train though, I’m struck by the completely bizarre mishmash of randos around me. Maybe it’s because I work from home so I rarely come into contact with other human beings anymore, but riding public transportation at rush hour makes for some excellent people watching.

Here are five of The Usual Suspects you can expect to find on the DC Metro.

The Sick Person
There’s nothing I hate more than sick people. Sick people should stay home, pull the covers over their heads, and sleep until they’re healthy. So, when an otherwise cute girl gets on the metro hacking up chunks of her esophagus, I immediately give her my devil eyes. COVER YOUR MOUTH. ARE YOU KIDDING ME? Seriously, why do people think they aren’t gross?

The Aggressive Nose Breather
While most would agree that nose breathers are better than orange-juice-breath mouth breathers, the aggressive nose breather is an all too common sight on the metro. This person is usually male, usually slightly overweight, and usually between the ages of 50 and 70. You may find there is too much of an overly spicy cologne seeping from his pores, gel in his hair, and his face is shaved mostly free of stubble. It’s not uncommon to see the aggressive nose breather with a mint or cherry-scented cough drop rolling around his tongue - possibly causing the noisy exit of air from his nasal cavity. Phfff. Phhhhf.

The New York Girl 
DC is an important city but we are not a cool city. Well, I mean, I kind of think we’re cool, but my friends who visit from bigger cities tell me otherwise. Of course, New York girl is a regular public transit-er. She usually sports a look of sheer disdain for the humdrum DC world around her and she is decked out in outfits meant for a very different environment. In DC, it is sensible to wear flats. It is sensible to wear a warm coat in the wintertime. It is sensible to put on your Ann Taylor suit separates, smear chapstick on your lips, and run a comb through your wet hair before you head to your very dull non-profit job on 16th street. New York girl ignores what is sensible in this city. Her stilettos add five inches of height and five spoonfuls of “I don’t belong here”. Her overly glossy lips scream “LOOK AT THIS PERFECT POUT I DON’T BELONG HERE”. Her keratin sleek locks say to DC girls “your hair is frizzy mine is not so clearly I don't belong here.”

The He/She 
You know that large, sexually ambiguous person who gets on the metro and immediately sits down next to you, wedging you up against the sticky window? Yeah you do. Well, is it a guy? Is it a girl? Those are boobs, right? But, you could almost swear that is some legit stubble under his/her chin. Wait, maybe it’s man boobs? No… it looks like he/she’s rocking some hips too. Hold up. Time to check for the adam’s apple. Oh. Of course – there’s a gender-neutral scarf wrapped around the base of their neck completely obscuring the one little bit of proof that might indicate their sex (barring the sight of an actual reproductive organ). Meh – whatever. You’ll try not to stare and just assume it’s someone “in transition”.

The Lone Child
It’s like – are you four? Are you eleven? Where are your parents? No matter the time of day, it’s almost a guarantee that you’ll spot a small, seemingly parent-less child wandering the train. If you weren’t super stressed on your morning commute, you’d stop and ask if they needed help but you just don’t have time for other people right now. You have the Express to skim and a latte to finish before your stop.

#WMATA

On Saying I Love You

Whether you’ve said it once, twice, or thousands of times before, working up the courage to tell someone you love them can literally be a stroke-inducing endeavor.

I don’t mean that automatic, knee jerk “love ya” at the end of a phone call with your mom. That's easy! In fact, you should tell your mom you love her every day. But no, I mean romantic love. Love love. The mushy stuff Kate Hudson romcoms lead us to believe is always just around the corner, or across the hall, or sitting next to us at the bar. 

We might be an entitled, selfish, picky generation that struggles to find fulfillment, but when we're lucky enough to find love – we know not to scare it away. You don’t want to blurt out your feelings too soon, or you risk leaving the other person mute, terrified, ice-sculpture still. 

But when you know it, and you know you know it, how do you say it? When do you say it? Where do you say it?

• You can subtly tap it out in morse code on their bedframe the morning after a night together. Tip tap tip tap, spelling out your thoughts. Fingers drumming twice as fast as your racing pulse. You're like the freakin' Helen Keller of romance.

• You can spell it out into the curve of their back claiming it's just a new massage technique you picked up. Tickle-write it as loopy as possible so the message is 80% incomprehensible. 

• You can whisper it in their ear in the middle of the night when their breathing is steady and you know they won’t remember the next day. Even if some part of you hopes that they do. 

• You can pepper every sentence with the word love to get them to associate you with the phrase. You LOVE the color pink, you LOVE fried egg sandwiches, you LOVE when the metro is on time. LOVE LOVE LOVE. Hit them over the head with it to really drive your point home.

• You can write a blog post about saying I love you and hope they read it and say the words out loud to you first. 

Or you can just say it. Directly. No tricks or coughs or whispers or secrets. Just say it unabashedly, like you really mean it. And mean it.

Crazy Girls

When I think back to the guys I dated over the years, I know a number of them would probably call me a crazy bitch. I should probably be insulted by this, but ultimately, it just doesn’t bother me. Because it’s true.

It’s not uncommon for a girl to go psycho on the guy she’s dating or fucking or whatever-ing. I just think that when a girl acts crazy, it’s because the guy is making her crazy. He gives her reasons to doubt the relationship. He gives her reasons to feel insecure and unloved. He gives her reasons to come undone. 

Girls, and guys too for that matter, tend not to act insane for no reason whatsoever. I suppose there is the rare person who flips out over literally nothing, but I think that is far more rare than we’ve been led to believe. Rather, as human beings, it's in our best interest to maintain the status quo.

Rocking the boat is usually more effort than it’s worth.

When you have something good, you just want to hold on to it. You don’t want to be suspicious or doubtful or angry. You trust.

Maybe I’ve just never had the chance to trust before. Maybe I’ve never given anyone a reason to trust me. I guess what I’m saying is, it’s pretty fucking sweet when you find it. 

What's YOUR Number?

It frequently comes as a surprise that even the sweetest, dweebiest, nerdiest guys have had considerably more sexual partners than I have. I mean, I’m not that bad to look at and I’m certainly no angel, yet I’ve shown restraint with my lady parts to avoid becoming known as the town slut.

But then I hear these stories, and it’s like, with guys, the more casual, emotionally unattached, and depraved the hook up, the prouder they are.

• Duuuuude I fucked some girl last night (high fives ensue) 

• Duuuuude I think she pissed on our floor (snicker snicker) 

• Duuuuude is she still here..? (looks of horror all around) 

HA HA HA. How is this a thing?

When a girl has a one night stand (or a casual fling or anything remotely “unacceptable”) she instantly wants to undo it. The morning after, heels in hand, she is quick to flee the scene of the crime.

A girl feels the need to rationalize, to justify, to erase.

She wonders - is there a loophole in the system that will allow this guy not to count as a notch on her bedpost?

• Maybe it was just the tip? 

• Maybe he didn’t finish? 

• He wore a condom, right? So it barely even counts... 

The fact that women even feel the need to make such ridiculous (and patently false) justifications is sad.

Why can’t we just screw proudly and not give a damn how many penises are in or around us?

3 Drunk Foods You Should Avoid

First, let me be frank here and say that there are obviously way more than three foods you should steer clear of after a night of heavy drinking*. But, for the sake of time, and to avoid worsening my raging hangover, I’m going to just stick with these for now.

Jumbo Slice 
Unless you want to spend the next morning literally watching zits develop around your mouth and chin, you should avoid the greasy treasure trove that is jumbo slice. I’m not saying it’s not delicious. The salty, chewy, virtually sauce-less blanket of cheese-laden dough seems like the most genius of ideas at 3 am. But it’s not. Your drug-addled brain should not be making dietary decisions that will affect you for the coming weeks. You should particularly avoid this late-night mistake if you have any events coming up, as you can pretty much guarantee your skin will be wrecked, your stomach will be in turmoil, and your muffin top will be muffin-ier for a full seven days post-jumbo slice binge.

Black and Orange Burger
The thing about Black and Orange burger that makes it so hard to avoid, is their business model is set up to encourage late night drunken visits. Their hours are unique in the DC burger business, meaning they’re open until 3 am when the bars close. Brilliance. However, unless you want to spend the morning after boozing cemented to your toilet, it’s probably best to avoid this popular jaunt. Though there’s something magical about those grilled onions…

Amsterdam Falafel 
Nutritionists might actually encourage the drunken fools of Adams Morgan to hit up Amsterdam Falafel because these Mediterranean chickpea treats are likely the healthiest fast food one can find in DC after midnight. However, the pita pockets can be crammed with whatever toppings you find appetizing - and after a long night out, that might be every topping. So now you are essentially using a small piece of pita as the boat to transport tzatziki, hummus, babaganoush, mayo, ketchup, and vinegar-y onions into your mouth. This ungodly combination of sauces will almost certainly make you upchuck falafel into the already puke-strewn streets of Admo. Of course, if you’re fortunate enough to keep your food down, your garlicky, oniony, ketchup burps will likely trigger the gag reflexes of the lucky few located within your immediate vicinity.



*Full Disclosure: I love all these restaurants and frequently consume Jumbo Slice, Black and Orange burgers, and Amsterdam falafel. I’m merely informing DC partiers that they will suffer the consequences if they choose to frequent these DC institutions after 3 am.

Revisionist History

It’s not me, it’s you.

Now I see how I deserve to be treated. Now I see what it’s like to be my own person. Now I see why my friends and family couldn’t, wouldn’t be supportive of you in my life. Honestly, I’m in my mid-twenties and I’m at a point where I can’t be dating wildly inappropriate people anymore. It’s time for all of us to just grow the hell up.

You made me feel inadequate every step of the way, but fortunately I see now how completely deluded you were. I’ve got a lot to offer. And I think on some level you knew that. You knew you had something others wanted. You muted me so you could shine.

Did you mean to hurt me? Did you enjoy watching me unravel? Deliberate, frequent jabs at my hair, my shoes, my cooking. You showed no mercy, taking me down any way you could – persistent, patient. You mocked my defining characteristics. You decimated my quirks. You deflated me. You rendered me as directionless and insignificant as secondhand smoke in urban air.

And the jury is still out as to whether I can ever forgive you. The damage is done and I won’t let myself forget how small you made me feel.

You’ve set the bar - and the only place for me to go is up.

How Google Search Results Sum Up the Difference Between Men and Women

They say men are from Mars and women are from Venus but by they, I mean some pseudo-therapist who made a gajillion dollars in the 90’s by calling himself a relationship counselor and writing a book.

As annoying as the book sounds, it’s true that men and women have their differences. When it comes to things like socializing, money, and football, I sometimes feel like guys are speaking a foreign language. What do you mean you might make fantasy playoffs? What sport are you even talking about? And how does a playoff exist if the whole thing is made up. CAN SOMEONE PLEASE CLUE ME IN.

Anyway, that got me thinking about all the ways guys and girls are different and one thing I kept landing on was online search behavior. When I google, I look at shelter puppies and pinterest and celebrity gossip. What do guys search for? Porn? They probably have all their favorite sites bookmarked by now though, right? Well, here’s how I imagine it might look for the average Jack and Jill.

Ladies: 

• Calories in a Starbucks pumpkin spice latte 
• Pumpkin muffin recipe 
• Calories in pumpkin muffins 
• What to do with leftover canned pumpkin 
• Harry Winston engagement rings 
• Google maps 
• UTI symptoms 
• Ryan Gosling shirtless 

I’d say this list pretty accurately reflects my search queries on a random Tuesday in November. Now for the dudes.

Gentlemen: 

• Two blonde sluts 
• Amateur 
• Spankwire 
• Pornhub 
• Morton’s menu 
• Directions to Morton’s 
• How to unclog a toilet when the plunger won’t work 
• Can I have sex with my girlfriend when she has a UTI? 
• Spankwire 
• Pornhub 
• Amateur 
• Two curvy sluts 

If anyone finds themselves offended by this list and my sweeping generalizations, please feel free to contribute your search results in the comments section below.