Guess What You Guys ... I Have a New Blog!

Even though I'm a writer, it's always a constant battle. And as of recently, I've been, well, confused. Am I a TV writer? A screenwriter? A playwright? A novelist? Am I even funny? Or am I just a silly blogger? That's the question I've been asking myself time and time again.

That was when I realized, I needed a new path. I needed guidance. I needed something original to write about. I'm 30-years-old, what the fuck have I been doing all these years?

But when I really thought about it, the one thing that always pops into my mind ... is my mom. My entire life, whether it was my friends, my family, my co-workers, or even my former writing teachers, everybody says the same thing -- your mom is a fucking psychopath, but she's hilarious. A recent writing teacher of mine, who wrote one of my favorite movies of all time, even told me that I should write about my mom.

So, after four semesters of college, tons of writing classes and thousands and thousands of dollars later, I have finally realized what I need to do.

Write about my mom!

So, I've started a new blog and I'm SO excited to share it with you guys! Please check out My Mom Thinks I'm a Lesbian ... and Other Things.

Being able to write about my own experiences, and being so honest, so raw, is so amazing that words cannot even describe. I hope you'll check it out.

And yes, I'll still continue to blog here at The Dating Jungle.

You're welcome :)

The Sad Truth: Everyone Only Cares About Themselves

My whole life, I've always been a good friend. Always the first one to ditch out on plans if one of my girls breaks up with her boyfriend. Always the first in line to listen to everyone's problems. Always the one to ask, 'Hey, how are you?'

But when push comes to shove, would any of my friends do the same for me? Do my friends hang out with me now that my boyfriend's out at sea? Do my friends listen to any of my problems? Do my friends ever fucking ask, 'Hey Jen, what are you doing today?' The answer is: not really.

I don't know if it's because I live in Hollyweird, but as of lately, I've been noticing that people only give a shit about themselves, and absolutely nobody else. Not once do any of my friends ask me; How are you, Jen? What have you been up to? How is work going? How are things with your boyfriend? What did you do for your birthday?

As people get older, do they only give a shit about themselves and nobody else? Has this always been the case and I just somehow, never noticed? Or is this only because I live in Hollyweird?

31 Candles

When most people saw "Sixteen Candles," they probably thought to themselves; there is no way that Molly Ringwald's family forgot her birthday. I mean, that doesn't actually happen in real life, right? That was just a movie.

Wrong! It does happen. At least, it happens to me.

Today was my 31st birthday and while most of my Facebook friends who I barely even know wished me a happy birthday, a lot of other people who mattered the most, did not.

My family didn't wish me a happy bday. Heard nothing from any of my cousins, aunts or uncles. Sure, my family is at war right now with one another for reasons I can't even comprehend anymore, but I thought maybe, just maybe, a text message would be thrown my way. But nada.

Some of my best friends didn't even remember my birthday. I know I live 3,000 miles away from them now, but isn't that what Facebook is for? You mean to tell me they weren't on Facebook at all today?

Not to mention, I was with one of my best friend's last night who didn't mention a thing about my birthday. Not last night. Not today. Not at all.

And let's not forget the fact that my boyfriend is out at sea right now and I can't even spend the day with him.

Do people think that once you hit a certain age, it's okay to not wish someone a happy birthday? Or do the people in my life just suck?

I Do Not Miss Dating. Like, At All.

Now that I have a boyfriend (I know right, I can't believe it either!) I must admit, I do not miss being single. Not even a little. Not even at all.

I remember all of those shitty dates I went on, hoping that maybe, just maybe, it might actually work out for once. At least for a few months. Because dating somebody who I was sort of interested in, seemed so much better than going on awkward dates with people you don't even know. Making out with boys when you're drunk. Waking up the morning after thinking, what the fuck did I do that for? Not to mention, having to constantly tell your mom that there is in fact a reason why you're on the pill other than having sex, is totally exhausting.

But now that I think about it, all of those bad dates happened for a reason. Like that time when when I went out with a boy I met at a bar. He took me out to dinner, got me drunk, and when I didn't want to go home with him at the end of the night, he hailed me a cab, gave me a sweet kiss on the lips ... and then got in the cab and left me in the middle of the street. Alone. Or how about that time when I thought I met the man of my dreams on the Internet, and then randomly met that actual person IN person purely by coincidence, only to realize the person I've been talking to online was some random girl who constantly had her period. (I do not know if this person was really a girl, nor do I know if they had their period, it's merely an assumption). 

So you see, going on bad dates and having awful things happen to me, just makes me appreciate my boyfriend even more. Because our first date was flawless. Nothing was awkward. He treated me with respect (he - GASP - opened the car door for me!) He made me laugh. He bought me dinner. And most importantly, he didn't make me fall asleep (I have a tendency of randomly passing out in public places, and no, I do not have narcolepsy). And get this, he even walked me to my apartment at the end of the night. Okay, fine, I guess this wasn't the biggest deal since he is my neighbor and lives right upstairs. But instead of asking to stay the night, he simply told me to lock the door, and went back to his place.

If only more guys were like that, the world would be a better place.

My mom is starting to seriously think about moving to LA. I'm starting to seriously think about drafting up my suicide note

(Photo courtesy of HBO. And no, that's not my mother. It just looks like her. A lot.)

Oh my gosh, you guys, it's happening.

In case you're wondering what the fuck I'm referring to, let's start all the way back at the beginning. When I was 21, I started writing a sitcom pilot loosely based on my life about a young girl who moves from NYC to LA for college. Since I always wanted to go away to college, but yet for some reason never actually did it, I decided to do the next best thing: write about it.

Girl moves across country for college. Bo-ring! I needed a story. Something compelling. Something relatable. Since I have a neurotic Jewish mother who is up my ass, I couldn't help but think -- what would she have done if I really moved 3,000 miles away? I mean, she had a problem with me going to a college that was a half hour away from home, let alone across the country!

I didn't even have to think about it. It was a no brainer. She totally would have followed me there and moved in.

Cut to -- ten years later, I'm actually living in Los Angeles. Sure, my mom had a hard time accepting the fact that I moved across the country. But I did it with good reason: to get away from her to pursue my dream of becoming a sitcom writer.

Now, I have a great job, I'm making a lot of money, and I have an amazing boyfriend. So, when my mom asks when I'm moving back to NYC, the answer is simply -- not going to happen in a million years. Okay, maybe it's not so simple. I explained to her (and quite nicely, might I add), that I have a life here now. A life that I love, and I wouldn't trade it in to go back to NYC.

And so, she completely understood. I know, crazy right? But you know what's even crazier ... now my mom is starting to seriously think about moving to LA.

I'm starting to seriously think about drafting up my suicide note.

To be continued ...

The Only Cute Boy On "Girls" is Leaving

Typical. Oh, so typical!

Christopher Abbot, the only cute boy on “Girls,” will not be returning to the hit HBO series for season 3. If you’re a fan of the show, then you’d know all about Charlie and Marnie’s rocky relationship. After dating since college, Marnie dumped Charlie. Then, he gets a new girlfriend who Marie is jealous of. She breaks up with him. Charlie suddenly gets rich from creating an app. Marnie is a gold digger suddenly likes him again. He takes her back. They have a big talk about how they want to have kids together and grow old together ... And then he decides to not come back for season 3.

Seriously!?

Well, I hope he gets written out of the show, and they don’t try and replace him with another actor who could play Charlie that kind of looks like him.  

All My Friends Are Getting Married ... So, Does That Mean I Should Too?

Everybody loves to go to weddings, right? I mean, who doesn't. Free food and free booze! But the one thing we don't love, is the oh so annoying question we get asked time and time again. You know, the question that makes you cringe. The question that makes you either want to punch everybody in the face, or just break down and cry.

"When are you getting married?"

Okay, asking this question to someone who is single is like asking someone who isn't pregnant (and just ate a sandwich) when they are expecting. And asking this question to someone who is in a relationship, but isn't thinking about marriage what-so-ever, is just plain old awkward!

I've been with my boyfriend for nearly a year. And three months into the relationship, all I heard from friends and family was ... "So, are you getting married?"

It's because I'm 30-years-old, isn't it? Is this everybody's way of telling me that I'm old and it's time to settle down? So what if my parents got hitched when they were in their twenties, this isn't the 1900's anymore. There's no time stamp on when you're supposed to get married. 

Nobody would have asked me this question if were, say, 21, right? 

I'm Crying A River

“Okay, well I should go now,” said my boyfriend, which turned me into a hot mess. As soon as he said those words, I just couldn’t stop crying. I mean, how could I? The next time I’m going to see him is four months from now. Four months from now! Wait, what?

Oh god, what am I going to do every weekend? Who am I going to hug after a shitty day at the office? Who am I going to cuddle with at night? And more importantly, who is going to cook me dinner? What am I supposed to eat! Does this mean that I actually have to make my bed and sleep in it now?

Okay fine, I guess I can’t complain. I knew this was a long time coming. My boyfriend is a merchant marine and ships out for months at a time for jobs. But ever since we met, the longest that he’s shipped out was just a month. Because, well, he didn’t want to leave me. I mean, do you blame him?

Last night was the first night that he’s been gone. Since my DVR is at 98 percent, I’ve been glued to the TV ever since. But every time I watch Lena Dunham kiss a boy on “Girls,” I cry. She gets naked. I cried. When I saw Jess finally hooking up with Nick on “New Girl,” I cried. God, I cried when Naomi told her geeky husband that she loved him on freaking "90210!" I even cried during the series finale of "Jersey Shore." I mean, who cries during Jersey Shore!?

On the bright side, when he comes home in July, he gets a crazy amount of vacation time that’ll run through the holidays. And he’s also making a whole lotta cash!!

Besides, missing each other makes the heart grow stronger. Because I already miss him like crazy and it’s only been two days that he’s been gone!

How To Impress A Guy On The First Date: Don't Dress Up. Yes, Really!

All girls – well, most girls – think that when they meet a guy, they need to try their hardest at impressing them. Like dressing up for a first date. Wearing super high heels to be just as tall as the guy is, and pretending that they are actually comfortable. Holding in stinky farts, because, I mean, what girl farts in front of a dude!?

But do you really have to do all that? I dare to say the answer is ... NO!

Throughout my twenties, I did do all of that. But once I met my boyfriend, that all went out the window. For some reason, I felt like I could be myself around him and I didn’t need to do all of that silly stuff ... Like pretending.

When I met him for the first time at a friend’s birthday party, I wasn’t wearing anything nice at all. No heels. No makeup. Hair pulled back in a bun. Even when we went on our first date, I dressed pretty casual (I even wore - GASP! - flats), while he was wearing jeans, dress shoes and a black button down shirt. He said that he was expecting me to be all dressed up. I mean, we were going out to dinner. Honestly, I’m not sure why I didn’t get dressed up. But the fact that I didn’t, well, that just made him intrigued.

Once we got to know each other, he immediately knew that I hated heels. Hated dressing up. Hated wearing skirts and dresses. Hated blow drying my hair. Hated wearing makeup. And he didn’t care one bit!

So ladies, if a guy doesn’t seem to care when you’re all plain and simple, it could possibly mean he’s a keeper.

Is THIS What You Do After You Get Laid?

After a night of good sex with someone you love, don't you just feel like walking down the street and doing THIS?

No? 

Okay, fine ... maybe it's just me ... and Joseph Gordon-Levitt.

"I'm Going To Find a Boyfriend at a Bar Or Club" - Said Nobody Ever

Over the weekend, I had a ‘date night’ with my boyfriend. We got sushi for dinner and then went to a bar afterwards. But you see, this was no ordinary bar. This bar was like a, “I come here to get #@$&!” kind of bar.

As I looked around, I couldn’t help but notice all of the single guys and girls that were desperately seeking attention from the opposite sex. Girls were wearing t-shirts as dresses, while guys were trying to hit on, well, - anyone! - that was dressed slutty. This reminded me of when I was in my twenties; when I was single and stupid.

Back then, I had my first serious relationship back in college. But after that, well let’s just say my mom had a right to think that I was a lesbian, because if I had a hook up once every couple of months, I was lucky. Cut to: ten years later at 30-years-old, and now I’m deliriously happy with my boyfriend. But why did it take so long to find romance?

Why!? I will tell you why ... It’s because I was looking for love in all of the wrong places... 

At bars and clubs. 

Now tell me, who goes to bars and clubs? Guys who just want to get laid. Girls who just want to have fun. I mean, have you ever gotten drunk at a bar and actually overheard somebody saying, “I really want a relationship?” 


Doubtful.

So, if you find yourself alone and miserable, wanting a boyfriend/girlfriend, I suggest you start thinking about how you’re meeting the opposite sex in the first place. Because getting drunk and having a one night stand most likely won’t lead to getting married and living happily ever after.

Although, it has worked for Snooki.