Jill on the Hill

Break Up Tip

2010-04-19T08:37:00.000-07:00

If You Want Closure in a Relationship, Start with Your Legs

Cubicle Love

2010-04-15T08:51:00.000-07:00

What is better than dressing up in that skirt that may just be a little too short, and having eye sex with your office crush? If you ask me, nothing. It sure beats the doldrums of having the same conversation on gchat with your friends seven times a day.

Until people start gossiping.

I’m not naïve, and I know workplace romances occur quite often. My friend works for a company that prides themselves on workplace romances, the concept being that you’re more likely to stay with the company if your partner is invested in it as well. That same friend now wants to bomb the company building, or a least the office her recent ex-boyfriend sits in.

Workplace relationships are sort of like that last shot of tequila at the bar. You know you probably shouldn’t do it, but when it settles, you feel like Sarah Palin, all Mavericky. Fuck, it even makes going to work enjoyable.

The morning-after, you feel the pangs of nausea caused by the seven shots of tequila. Or the moral hangover of playing a game of grab ass with a coworker. Either way, it’s a sticky situation to navigate.

Here’s the deal: workplace romances can be fun and exciting. And sometimes they work. Lots of people find a paycheck and platinum at work. But you have to face the reality that you may break up. And if you do, it will be awkward. And people will gossip. And you have to pretend to be ok, when you either a) want to poison your ex; or b) want to sob uncontrollably because the slut he hooked up with had fake nails.

DCists, if it can be avoided, I wouldn’t recommend hooking up with your colleagues—unless you’re absolutely sure that you guys will be married with 2.5 kids, a house, and a hybrid. Otherwise, let people gossip about the partner porking the analyst. It’s way more fun being on the other side.

The Dating Game

2010-03-08T08:45:00.000-08:00

Navigating through dating is a painful process. Dates can be interview-esque, intimidating, nauseating, or just plain boring. Yet we all subscribe to this experience, because if we just get drunk and make out in bars (or worse), then we wake up with a moral hangover and no ring on it.

Sigh.

So here’s some little tidbits to get you through the week, and mentally prepare for these upcoming dates.

Dating Guidelines

1. The phone call. He’s Just Not that Into You strikes again. Dammit. If he doesn’t call after the first date, DO NOT CALL HIM. If he wanted to, he would. Drunk texting needs to cease as well. (Trust me—I’m a repeat offender of this one)

2. The sex. DO NOT SLEEP WITH HIM ON THE FIRST DATE. Listen, I’m not your mom. But I will say—one night stands have a place and a time. Such as: on your 21st birthday, all four years of college, and the occasional blackout at the bar. But if you really like him, don’t pork him. I know, it don’t make no sense. But it’s the truth.

3. The outfit. Turns out…it actually doesn’t matter that much. Go with something that allows you to feel comfortable and confident. It’s DC, not Milan. The fact that you have matching socks and refrained from using your scrunchie today already gives you bonus points.

4. The meal. If you’re going from dinner, please eat. I actually surveyed some DC men, and most of them don’t like their women looking hungry. (That’s just in NYC). So lucky for you, you don’t have to starve and get drunk off one glass of wine. Be a two beer queer and get a burger while you’re at it.

5. The exit strategy. If the date sucks, you need a back-up plan. I typically use the fact that I have a “training session” in the morning, but sometimes that fails—so choose wisely.

I hope for all you fabulous DCists, dating isn't treacherous. But just in case--book yourself on a Monday or Tuesday. That way you won't be upset if you gave up a Friday or Saturday where you could have had that one night stand.

Swap Me Out

2010-03-04T07:56:00.000-08:00

Two nights ago, I went to an event at K Street Lounge called “friend swap.” Here’s the concept: you fill out an application, with lots of deep questions (like your favorite color), and mail it back to the “swapees.” Then you show up at this event, get paired up with five or six matches, meet your husband, and walk off into the rest of your life together.

Yeah, ok.

I went with my friend Kristin to check it out. I figured, I’m single and I haven’t been laid since 1992, so why not. The scene was…interesting. The venue was actually the perfect place to have it. Dimly lit, strong drinks, and an intimate atmosphere so I could make all sorts of bad decisions. Except even my strong drinks were not enough to push me over the edge to hook up with Robbie Republican.

The people attending were mostly young, cute girls and bald, old men. Cool. However, I did spot Robbie—the one young-ish guy in the whole place. I swallowed my pride, decided to go with it, and went to talk to him.

The conversation started off well (as in, boring), and we talked about what we did, what we like to do on the weekends (which is absolute bullshit, because if I said what I really do, such as get drunk, nurse my hangovers, and eat way too much bacon—he would never speak to me again), and where we were from. Then things began to get interesting.

To start with, he went on a rant about Obama and his healthcare policies. DCists—I know this is a political town. I know people are passionate about what they do, and typically, in DC, people tend to work for the government or care about politics. But I’m from the school of thought that if you meet someone for the first time, you don’t discuss religion or politics. Call me old-fashioned, but it’s a huge turn off. Especially when you rant and rave like a lunatic about that “idiot that gives dumbass speeches” in the White House.

Now, I may be a Democrat, but I can understand some Republican concerns. Except I don’t endorse them, and I certainly don’t get worked up in a tizzy in a bar trying to convince people to usurp the Obama administration. And I fo’ sho’ don’t try to use it as a pick-up line.

Men of DC—here’s a hint. Always gauge your audience. If you’re trying to pick-up a girl, don’t assume she’s a Republican, Democrat, Green party, communist, alien, whatever. And if she’s responding to your questions and rants with one word answers, chances are she’s just not that into you.

So much for the Swap party. Maybe I would have better luck joining the swingers next time.

Recycled Underwear

2010-03-02T07:15:00.000-08:00

Did anyone watch the special report on the Today show this morning, where they "expose" the secrets of underwear? I was utterly horrified to discover this cold, hard fact: people return underwear after they wear them. And as if that isn't bad enough--the sales clerks PLACE THEM BACK ON THE FLOOR FOR RESALE.

First of all, that is effing FOUL. It's a damn public safety hazard. I don't care if your vajayjay is plated in gold, I don't want traces of it on my newly purchased underwear. Please do us all a favor, and just keep it. I will pay you to keep it.

Second of all--who buys used underwear? Now I understand if it has never been worn, and you just didn't realize it. That is the store's fault for reselling them on the sales floor. But on the Today show, the investigators were staining the lining of the underwear to mimmick discharge. (Although hilariously, Meredith Vieira refused to say the word--she just kept referring to it as "stains" and "issues"). And if I ever even picked up underwear in a store that had stains in the crotch, I would probably be escorted out of the store for making a scene.

Single ladies and my married ladies--I understand that sometimes you have to keep the spice alive. Do it up. Just don't spice in your underwear and return it.

And also a word of caution, and my motto--always try before you buy. It applies to men, clothing, cars--the list goes on.

Except this time, try with your eyes and not your vajayay.

Moral Dilemmas

2010-03-01T08:01:00.000-08:00

I recently came across the best website ever: http://www.datetosave.com/

This is the homepage description:

Hello, my name is Tamara! As you can probably tell, I'm a Christian woman who loves Jesus Christ and cares for all humans, even the wicked. What you probably don't know is that I'm hot. My picture below isn't really that good. I want to use my beauty for GOD, and want to encourage Christian women (my sisters in Christ) to do the same, according to the Great Commission.

Tamara sure is modest.

Now, I may be missing something here, but I’ve never used religion as a tactic to pick up men. (Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I’ve fallen off the Catholic bandwagon by having premarital sex?

Alcohol? Yes. WWJD? No. I’m dying to know if Tamara and her apostles have met any fellow hot Christians. She also has tips on Christian dating:

10. If he tells your that you are hot...Tell him God made you hot.

9. If he wants to hold your hand...Give him a Bible.

8. If he tries to get closer...Tell him the Holy Spirit is wooing him.

7. If he asks to pay for dinner...Remind him that Jesus also paid a debt He did not owe!

6. If he reaches his arm around you...Tell him that nobody will ever be as close to you as Jesus is.(or ask him if you instead could "lay hands" on him in prayer)

5. If he tries to kiss you...Remind him that a kiss killed your Savior.(and you're not ready to "speak in tongues")

4. If he asks to come inside...Ask him if he has asked Jesus to come inside his heart.

3. If he tells you he loves you...Tell him that Jesus loves him.

2. If he gets angry that you won't put out...Clarify to him that W.W.J.D. does NOT mean "Who would Jesus Do."

1. After you dump him...Tell him that Jesus Christ will never leave or forsake him.

You know how I know I'm living in sin? When I read number four, I automatically assumed “come inside” does not mean step inside my house.

I wonder what Tamara would say about that.

New York Love

2010-03-01T07:55:00.000-08:00

Forbes recently published the list of the Top 40 places for singles.

I have lived in NYC and I have an issue with it securing the No. 1 spot. Sure, NYC is filled with beautiful and successful people, and if you’re a guy you certainly cash in. But WHERE are the eligible bachelors? Every guy I have dated in NYC secretly hates himself or wants Daddy to love him more. Or is an investment banker with no soul. And the competition is fierce. The women in NYC are all thin and beautiful (I’m not joking), and a dime a dozen. Think Giselle dating MY Philip Seymour Hoffman.

The other issue with NYC dating is the anonymity of it all. Several of my girlfriends would go out with guys successively for a few weeks, and never hear from them again. It’s quite difficult to “randomly” run into these people, because the city is so big. It brings Facebook stalking to a whole new level.

But perhaps with the recession, all those previously-employed investment bankers found their hearts. Or at least saved their wallets.

I’ll always love you though New York .

Top Four Places to Meet a Guy in DC

2010-03-01T07:53:00.000-08:00

Once I begin drunken November, I’m back on the prowl. I have taken sober October to do research about the best places to meet a guy in DC. Ladies, this is for your benefit—here’s the updated list:

1. Redskins Game. I am a Giants fan myself, but for the sake of platinum I will pilfer a Jason Campbell jersey and show a little cleavage. Think about it: men + sporting events = BDAs (big dumb animals). And BDAs love nothing more than having a cute blonde by their side, screaming for the pitiful Redskins. After they lose, you can console his broken heart with another Bud Heavy and some post-game plays.

2. Wonderland Ballroom. If BDAs aren’t your thing, check out the Wonderland Ballroom in Columbia Heights. It’s a bar in hipster heaven, full of the latest skinny jeans and plaid shirts. Make sure you brush up on the lineup at the 9:30 Club before you go, or else fake an interest in Nietzsche’s view of eternal return and how it’s so relevant to your everyday life. Bonus points if you have worked for the Peace Corp and/or are still struggling to “find yourself.”

3. Smith Point. All you ladies in Lily Pulitzer and pearls, this is the place for you. Here you will find your slew of embroidered shirts with the latest alligator or lobster on the monogram, people who use “summer” as a verb, and sport names like “Buffy,” or “Nathaniel.” When you finally secure Nathaniel, just be sure to watch out for that 20-year-old au pair and get your spot on the waitlist for Congressional Country Club now. Otherwise, life will be picture perfect.

4. Hawk 'n' Dove. What would DC be without its sleazy politicians and scandals? Here you will find Democrats and Republicans alike, Capitol Hill staffers, and the occasional politician drowning his sorrows with good taxpayer dollars. (Hey, at least it’s being spent on alcohol and not on paving roads in West Virginia). Want your own political scandal and book deal? Come on down.

Once 11/1 hits, I plan on implementing these four venues into my weekly rotation. If it doesn’t work out, there’s still consolation with my bottle of wine and a muscle relaxer.

Homeless Boyfriends

2010-03-01T07:49:00.000-08:00

I’ve discovered that volunteering could be the best way to meet my husband. We would both be Mother Theresa-like, aiding the homeless and realizing that we have to have babies so the world can be a better place.

In fact, I think this is such a strong possibility that I get as glammed up as possible to go to all my volunteer events. I pile on as much makeup as I can get away with in the daylight (not quite Michael Jackson, but almost), and decide just how much cleavage is too much. Here’s your free meal, want a side of boob?

However, much to my dismay, I haven’t yet found my man. I volunteered at a soup kitchen last weekend, and the only eligible bachelors were the ones waiting for a hot meal. Although I did get propositioned a few times. If all else fails, it may work. Hi Mom, here’s my new boyfriend. He’s going to have to shack up with me for a while.

Next week I’m trying the other extreme—Congressional Country Club. Say hello to pearls and vineyard vines.

Wardrobe Malfunction

2010-03-01T07:44:00.000-08:00

Last night I went off to the gym, for the first time in three months (in an attempt to shed those holiday pounds that I still think is my New Year’s resolution). Now, the gym is not exactly a comfortable place for me. I never quite know how to run or lift weights properly, and I always think everyone is criticizing my moves as I watch myself in the mirror.

But I have this slight hope in my head that I will meet the love of my life at the gym. So it’s more like social hour without the alcohol (aka torture).

As I strolled into my abs class, trying to suck in my gut as much as possible (because the only people who take abs class are the people who actually don’t need it), I see this guy staring at me. And sort of studying me. Immediately I think, shit, he knows that I’m sucking in my gut.

Then he approaches me, and I realize who it is. John. As in, the John who I went out with two weeks ago and never called him back. Sorry, I’m just not that into you! To make matters even more awkward, he has this huge smile on his face, like we’re BFFs. Awesome. Awkwardness begins.

It goes something like this:

John: “Hey you, how’s life? Didn’t think I would see you at the gym at this time!”

Jillian: “Ohhh hiii! Yeah, I come at this time ALL the time. Surprised I haven’t seen you here before!”

John: “Oh really? Because on our last date you told me you had to go home early so you can rest up for your gym routine in the mornings.”

Shit.

To make matters worse, it’s a PARTNERS class. Which means I get paired up with my BFF. And you know that exercise where you have someone hold your ankles and you push their feet down with your hands?

I happened to be wearing some pretty short mesh shorts to display my oh-so-shapely thighs. Well now, it was displaying my oh-so-shapely vajayjay. Because his view was directly below my crotch, with nowhere to look but up. Sweet.

Hiiii John, I won’t call you back but here’s a sneak peek of my underwear.

I’m not going to the gym again for another three months.

Cougars Versus Arm Candy

2010-03-01T07:40:00.000-08:00

I have a topic which I think may interest us all...the perks of dating older and younger guys.

Cougars

Cougars retain a certain mysticism they have gained in recent years. I sort of aspire to be a Cougar. Something about Stiffler's mom even turns me on. The way I see it, there are definite benefits to being a Cougar.

1. Hot, younger men. Let's face it--guys have been doing it for years. It took women this long to catch on? No one wants to sleep with the fat, bald, old guy--(don't worry, I still love you Philip Seymour)--when you can have a hot, young buck. Cabana boy anyone?

2. Dressing as a 20-year-old. The only way to beat 'em is join 'em. And that means dressing and acting the part. I can't wait to break out my too-tight sweater dress. The 20s have been my favorite years thus far--who doesn't want to relive them when it's even more entirely inappropriate?

3. Going to younger bars. When I walk into a bar with an older crowd, sometimes I get excited, because it means free drinks. But mostly I get bored. I don't want to hear your sob stories about your ex-wife and how you slept with the au pair. That's killing my buzz dude. Talk to me about how you got drunk with your frat buddies and vomited on the keg. Now that is a turn on.

Arm Candy

Call it what you want: Baby Mommas, Arm Candy, Gold-Diggers, Trophy Wives. They all conjure up the same image. And that image is pure awesomeness. The benefits of being Arm Candy are exactly the opposite perks of being a Cougar.

1. Dolla dolla bills. I know this is taboo, but the bottom line is, women marry for two reasons: love or money. And I hope for all you fabulous DCists, you marry for both. But in a world that is cruel and unforgiving, go for the money. Because it won't sting so much that you have a stumpy husband when you're driving a Lexus.

2. Events, parties, and vacas. When you're a Cougar, you run the risk of your frat boy getting his credit card declined. No such story with your CEO boyfriend. He will wine and dine you, get you invites to all the latest parties, and then fly you around the world on his private jet. Your social life may infinitely get better, even though you'll feel like you're hanging out with your parents.

3. Looks. I think Heff proved us all wrong when he scored those playboy bunnies. Some girls love older guys. I mean, look at those new twins on the Girls Next Door. They think Heff is sexy. And I don't judge. I love it.

I'm all for women putting themselves out there and dating younger and older men. Just don't put yourself out there too much on the first date ladies--the rules still apply to this game.