by Bradley Suicide

Hot chicks and douchebags. What the hell is wrong with this picture? Does this really happen? I can attest to this phenomenon because up until very recently, I had an affinity for the west coast bro. The first step to recovery is admitting that you have a problem, right?

My “bro problem” was bad. One for the record books for sure. The only dudes that got into my jeggings during this period of my life wore Famous Star and Straps and drove lifted trucks. I know, this is an awful and disgusting admission, but I am laying it all out for you with the hopes that it will show you that I am not only credentialed in bro, but that I also speak their language, fluently. Thankfully the seasons of my life have since changed and I was able to get out of the bro vortex wiser and relatively unscathed.

The easiest way to avoid the above referenced bro vortex is to avoid bros and their hangouts as much as possible. This vortex has a strong gravitational pull and sometimes you don’t know you’re slowly entering the douchebag lair until it’s too late. Below I have outlined the simplest ways to spot this ultra nutsackey breed of male in their natural habitat before it is too late. Don’t make the same mistakes as I did, young grasshoppers, knowledge is power.

1. Clothing Is Key
The first, and easiest way to spot a bro is simple and straight forward. What are they wearing? When I am out on the town and a guy starts chatting me up, the first thing that I do is what I call the West Coast Once Over. Take a mental stock of his ‘fit, from his hat all the way down to his shoes and socks. You do this not to see the value of what he has on, but to look for red flags. If he is wearing multiple pieces of clothing from Tapout, Metal Mulisha, Famous Stars and Straps, or any similar brands, chances are that this guy has bro written all over him and you should run for the hills. Look for things like Dickies shorts, fitted white v-necks, blinged out watches, and, of course, check to see if they have a straight billed hat on their most likely highlighted and perfectly styled hair. If these things are in place think of an exit strategy quickly or you, my friend, will be getting a one-way ticket to Bros-ville.

2. Scope out the Wheels
I know that this is not always a doable task, but if the opportunity presents itself make sure and take advantage of it. This exercise, similar to step #1, is not to attach a monetary value to the subject’s vehicle, but to see what his ride or “whip” of choice is. If you find that he has a giant truck lifted to the point of absurdity there is no further investigation necessary. Also, make sure to keep an eye out for any Rockstar Energy Drink stickers or decals –– nothing else screams “Bro” quite as loudly.

3. Listen
This little gem always blew me away. Bros tend to develop their own language. The first time that you hear it, it really catches you off guard. You will at first think maybe its some new slang that you just aren’t hip to yet. And then it will hit you; he is speaking bro. Listen for the guy in question to refer to his car/truck as his “whip”, his clothing as his “’fit”, his game as his “tech”. The list goes on and on. Not only do they have their own special made up bro language, but bros also tend to call everyone “pal” and almost always, without fail, will refer to their closest friends as their BFFs. I’m sorry, there is no circumstance when a grown ass man should ever use the term BFF. Warning buzzers should be going off like crazy in your brain when you hear any of these words brought up in the conversation.

4. Home Away From Home
This is the last important step in the bro litmus test. Be very mindful of dudes who seem to be a little too in love with a certain hangout. Bros always have a bar that they post up at. And I do not mean that they are a regular at a bar, but rather that they are such a regular that the entire staff knows them by name, they act like they own the place, and they pretty much have a key to the front door. This hangout is always one of the trendiest bars in town, never a hole in the wall dive. After all, bros are all about flash, exerting their manliness, and showing off their game to their fellow bros –– all tasks that are best accomplished in front of a crowd of onlookers. If you meet the bro at said bar it means that you have somehow stumbled into the eye of the storm and you need GTFO. Immediately. Do not hesitate, do not stay to finish your drink, you close out your tab and haul ass out of that place.

Don’t get me wrong, bros can be fun guys and can be great friends, but if you develop a love for dating them you are in for nothing but a lot of cheating, drama, and douchebaggery. Follow the steps. Work the program. You will thank me later.

Until next time.

Xoxo
Bradley

Related Posts
Confessions Of A Reluctant Dater: The Jake Ryan Theory
Confessions Of A Reluctant Dater: Penny Lane
Confessions Of A Reluctant Dater
Confessions Of A Reluctant Dater: Champagne Wishes And Rockstar Dreams

by Laurelin

Fucking YES! It’s almost here, that holiday we all know and love. The holiday where those in relationships are made to outdo last year’s crock of god knows what and those who are single are bitch slapped with loneliness from the second they wake up in the morning until the second they close their eyes at night. God, I fucking love Valentine’s Day.

I suppose I do like the concept. A day for love, a day to be thankful for the one you love and the one who loves you. A day meant to remind us all that unless we’re in solid, committed relationships, we are alone and unloved. I never understood why Valentine’s Day couldn’t just be marketed as a holiday to appreciate the little things as well as your amazing momentous relationship. What about everything else? I think you should find something to fall in love with every day. There are so many things to love, and yet with the hustle bustle of every day life these things are often forgotten.

I love so many things I sometimes feel like my heart could just burst through my ribs, like that scene in How the Grinch Stole Christmas. This year, I’m going to take Valentine’s Day and remember all the things I love about my life even though I don’t have anyone besides a cat to wake up to every morning. Speaking of that, I love the way my cat never wants me to get out of bed. She’ll meow and stretch out on my face to get me to scratch her just a second longer. I love my coffee maker. I love my WWE sweatshirt; it fits perfectly and is still warm and fuzzy even after being washed over and over. I love coffee from Refuge Café down the street from my apartment, and I love catching the sun at the perfect moment as it goes down and perfectly silhouettes the Boston city skyline as I start to walk to work.

I love noticing how every day I’m getting a little better at my pull-ups. I love finally reaching that point in running when I find the perfect clip and I don’t feel like I’m going to die anymore. I love wrestling. I love to write, to read, I love bartending and I love beer. I especially love that first sip of a cold Coors Banquet once everyone is finally out of my bar and I can catch my breath, shut off the fucking jukebox and regain my sanity.

I love the way this one guy smiles: his eyes squint just a bit and I love his dimples. I love the tiny tattoo another has on his left wrist underneath his watch; I love the freckle another has on his left shoulder blade. I love pulling into the driveway of the house I grew up in on Christmas Eve. I love eggs over-easy and French toast, never pancakes. I love Tuesday nights and the sound of the ocean.

Valentine’s Day is February 14th, but there are also 364 others in the year and so much beauty in every day. What’s not to love?

[..]

by SG’s Team Agony feat. Rin

Let us answer life’s questions – because great advice is even better when it comes from SuicideGirls.

Q: Recently I’ve been dating this girl who I thought was the girl of my dreams. She drinks, plays games, is great with kids and her family, and loves me, or I thought she did.

When she returned she didn’t even tell me she was back. I asked her about what happened to us over the internet and she responded back in a tone that had no sympathy for me at all and sounded like I was dating Spock from Star Trek. I guess what I’m wondering is what should I do when I approach her about it online. We got into a fight and she told me that I wasn’t really long-term type but only short term. To tell the truth I’ve done everything to be there for her and now i have no clue what to do.

A: Well, to be perfectly frank, if she was really the girl of your dreams, she wouldn’t have ditched out on you like that. My best guess is that things got too intense for her and she ran. Intensity can be so overwhelming!! Because she started avoiding you after one of your ‘best days together’ it seems likely to me that she got scared.

Saying you’re “short term and not long term” seems like kind of a cop out on her part, but this girl doesn’t sound like she has any interest in discussing her emotions or giving you any reasons. There’s probably nothing you can do about that. It sucks, it’s unfair to the emotional commitment that you put in, and it’s not the way a caring person deserves to be treated. But sometimes that is just the way shit falls apart and there’s nothing to be done.

My advice is to approach an online discussion not expecting anything.
She’s shown you that she doesn’t want to talk about what happened, and you can’t force her to justify dropping you/giving you the cold shoulder. It’s so shitty, but showing her that you care and you want to be there for her is unlikely to change her mind. This girl has already decided she doesn’t want what you have to offer. She probably has issues with intimacy, long-term dating, or something similar, and she will only deal with that stuff on her own time.

The best thing you can do is pick up your heart, work on healing from this ordeal, and do things that make you happy. Work on being the best you that you can be, so that you when run into a dream girl who is the real deal, you will be ready to be an awesome partner to her.

Rin

Got Problems? Let SuicideGirls’ team of Agony Aunts provide solutions. Email questions to: gotproblems@suicidegirls.com

by Laurelin

I remember in high school being obsessed with this one guy. Jackson was the epitome of everything I thought was cool: he rode BMX bikes and wore baggy jeans and flannel t-shirts with different band shirts underneath like NOFX and Pennywise. He didn’t drink or do drugs or hang out with the cool kids, but he was always smiling and surrounded by people. He was different and I liked that.

We wound up dating for a while (it seems like a long time, but in retrospect it might have only been a few months; time is different now). He broke up with me at the end of my freshman year and I was devastated. My first heartbreak, my first bitter taste of a feeling I would in time become so familiar with. That being said, there is nothing to be done but move on, keep going to class, keep on smiling like nothing was wrong. Eventually I lost interest in Jackson and the feeling faded. I was moving on and Jackson was nothing more than a blip on my radar. That is, until Jackson started dating Jill.

Suddenly I missed him with a fierceness that can only be likened to the hunger a vampire feels after waking, born as a creature of the night for the first time. Suddenly it seemed like there was no one else, that Jackson was the only one for me, no one else should have him, especially not Jill. Who was Jill? Where the hell did she even come from? She was nothing like him; she didn’t even LIKE the music that he liked, the music that he and I liked. It was all consuming, and soon Jackson was all I could think about. I wanted him back. I remember that feeling like it was yesterday; unhealthy obsession.

My cell phone buzzes and I glance down. My heartbeat increases when I see his name. This one I think I’ll write back to, this intriguing man who isn’t really like anyone I’ve ever met before. This has been one hell of a week for me and my buzzing cell phone, which is filled with messages from people I never expected to hear from. I have spent a lot of the past year unable to move forward constructively when it comes to a few kinds of relationships in my life and for whatever reason I have just totally and completely moved on. I simply woke up one day and stopped texting, stopped calling, stopped inviting these guys out with hopes of rekindling romance. I just stopped chasing them. And the second I stopped, all of a sudden they noticed.

If anyone had told me that these guys would be saying the things that they have been saying to me in the past few weeks I would have laughed. If you had told me they would be showing up at my bar, sitting and hanging out until closing and then asking to walk me home, I wouldn’t have believed it for a second. Now, as I choose to go home alone, I acknowledge that they only want me the way I wanted Jackson back once I saw him with Jill. They liked me chasing them and once I stopped they finally looked back, circling back like a dog with a lost bone, sad that the game is finally over.

[..]

by Laurelin

Butterflies. Every girl wants that feeling. We crave it: the thought of something new and exciting. That secretive smile that is just for you, your whole being just bursting with hope over the thought of something new. Those new guys, they’re the skip in your step home from the bar after getting a phone number or that perfect first date kiss that leaves you feeling full to the brim with a feeling so wonderful you could just cease to exist.

It might be one of the best feelings in the world. While fleeting, it’s when we feel the most innocent and yet the most powerful, the most indestructible, like our whole lives have led us to this point and nothing looks as beautiful as the whole freaking normally ugly awful world. (Enjoy this feeling while it lasts, because everybody knows butterflies can’t survive amongst a stomach full of beer and cheeseburgers.)

Over time mine seem to have turned into something more along the lines of ragged moths dancing around a tired flame. A flame that might go out, but also might grow brighter, and burn all the little moths. It also might not even be a flame, perhaps just a touch of heartburn.

I can point out a number of men in Boston who have given me this feeling and each time the feeling faded, leaving room for failed relationships, broken hearts and (lucky for me) in most cases, solid friendships. It’s gotten to the point where even if I meet someone who evokes this feeling I can’t help but wonder how it’s going to end. Should I even bother? (Of course I should.) Doesn’t it make more sense just to stay the way I am and not risk getting hurt? (Of course it doesn’t.)

It was thirty-four degrees last week and the wind was bitter as I walked to a cab, but for some reason I wasn’t cold. I should have been in bed hours ago, but I wasn’t. My cheeks were red, burning, and I smiled and looked up at the city, the whole skyline lit perfectly against the black sky. I had no idea where I was, besides far from home. I felt warm, and I was unsure if it was the booze or just remembering that kiss. Either way, I knew I was in trouble.

[..]

by Nicole Powers

“I started to write erotica as this sort of quiet rebellion.”
– Tiffany Reisz

Tiffany Reisz has just lured me over the edge of a cliff and is letting me hang. If I didn’t love her I’d hate her. When I ask her how she could do this to me, she responds: “I’m a sadist. It’s what I do.”

Fortunately I’m a glutton for punishment. Having already devoured The Siren and The Angel, the first and second books in Reisz’s Original Sinners gothic romance series, I’ve just reached the suspenseful end of the third installment, The Prince. The fourth climactic novel of the tetralogy, The Mistress, won’t hit bookstores until August 2013, and the anticipation is sweet torture.

The Original Sinners is set in the underground world of the 8th Circle, an illegal S&M club where anything goes as long as the members stick to the strict codes of the culture. Thanks to the staggering popularity of Fifty Shades of Grey, BDSM has been dragged out of the proverbial dungeon and into the glare of the mainstream. However, fans of Reisz laud her work for being more accurate in its portrayal of the scene, and far superior in terms of plot and prose.

Like Reisz, the central character in The Original Sinners series, Nora Sutherlin, is a writer of erotica with a penchant for pajamas in the living room and power play in the bedroom. But while Reisz’s leading man is brunette SG blogger Andrew Shaffer, Nora’s is an enigmatic tall, blonde and handsome Catholic priest called Søren who’s blessed with some seriously sadistic predilections. Other characters that jump off the page and stay with you long after you’ve put the book down include Zach (Nora’s cautiously curious editor), Wesley (her virginal houseboy), Kingsley (her complicated confidant), Griffin (a playboy with a heart and a Rolex both made of gold), and Michael –– a bisexual young man whose journey from tortured teen to self realized submissive is the subject of the second Original Sinners book, The Angel.

Though laced with lashings of romance, Reisz’s fiction also exposes and explores the more extreme and contentious aspects of carnality. The underlying message is one of acceptance without judgment, which might seem at odds with the author’s stated strong Catholic faith. However religion, like human sexuality, is full of contradictions and nuance. We caught up with Reisz, ironically on a Sunday just after mass, to talk about sex, love, original sin, writing, romance and erotica –– though we never did find out why there are no good synonyms for thrust [a pet peeve of Nora’s].

Read our exclusive interview with Tiffany Reisz on SuicideGirls.com.

by Laurelin

One of the perks of having an online column is literally being able to go back in time. Exactly a week, month, and year to the date your words are still there and you can instantly remember what was going on in that moment. So many times those memories are just… lost, and I realize suddenly how lucky I am to write the truth, to write with honesty and more often than not, pain, because I can look back see how I’ve progressed. Tonight I look for last year’s post, and I am a bit squeamish. I have a sinking suspicion that nothing has changed. I don’t feel different. I feel… used up and empty. To quote Bilbo Baggins, “I feel thin, sort of stretched, like butter scraped over too much bread.”

On this day last year I wrote “Life Beyond the Bar Scene: Winter is Coming.” I was clearly not over my ex and I was using other people in an attempt to replace him. It wasn’t working. I remember feeling lost, confused, alone. Fast forward one year, and I have managed to actually get over the ex I was writing about. He and I didn’t speak for about six months, and while I think part of me will always look at him as the one that got away, they were the best and most needed six months of my life. Erased. Deleted from everything, hidden from Facebook, he quit working at my bar, simply… gone. I ached, and then one day I didn’t. Life goes on, what do you know!

He walked into the bar two months ago, after all that time, and I remember stopping dead in my tracks. I had almost forgotten what he looked like and that moment of recognition hit me like a wave crashing into a small vessel in a storm. I hugged him and said I was happy to see him, and for once, I was.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call you on your birthday,” he said. And I knew he had remembered it and had not called because it really didn’t matter.

“That’s okay,” I said. “I didn’t call you on yours either,” and my lower lip didn’t tremble when I turned away. I couldn’t believe it. I smiled, and when he left I waved, turned back to my bar and carried on. He was never really far from my mind, but it was almost like he had finally found a place in the archives, a place that didn’t hurt.

A new year is coming and I don’t feel any different, but I am. I think I only feel used up because I think I should feel that way. Looking back I’m suddenly pretty sure I just lived the best year of my life. I went on a ten day Caribbean cruise in January. I scuba dived shipwrecks, got over my fear of karaoke, and held baby monkeys in diapers. I danced like no one was watching even when everyone was watching and I screamed “Discount Double Check” and did Aaron Rodger’s touchdown move zip lining across the rainforest in Antigua.

I dated. I discovered dating was not for me and I discovered that while men can be mean and break my heart, I can be mean and break their hearts. And I was sorry, sometimes more than others. I got up on stage and I read stories naked for the first time in March and again in October. The first time I was so scared I could have just peed right there on stage and the second time I walked with confidence, read with pride, and now I can’t wait to do it again.

In April I ran my first Tough Mudder and it was a ten mile muddy uphill journey of insanity. I didn’t train much and when I got back, that was it. I started running. I joined a Crossfit gym and I vowed that I would no longer blame every aspect of my hectic life for the wobbly parts of my body I didn’t care for.

I got promoted at all of my jobs, I turned 30, my friends are brilliant and I still find time for the little things: cat naps, cuddling with pets, reading, movies, martinis, and the occasional misstep into romance, which as my readers know has yet to work out. Used up and empty is often a result of this; but it’s not all I am. It can’t be.

When you think about it, each day since that post one year ago is just that: one day. It’s just another ordinary day, when added up makes an ordinary week, ordinary month, and yet somehow… a totally extraordinary year.

[..]