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Opening Volley

By Travis Hoewischer

Published February 1, 2013

In 2012, I joined a gym, shacked up with a dog, and watched at least three reality shows – most of them at said gym.

That’s because in 2012, I fell in love with a woman; a beautiful, talented one named Sommer. A professor/poet/comedienne, she has become the perfect foil for an editor/writer/comedian, and has taught me: A) most of the things I thought I knew about relationships were horribly misguided; and B) that there are actually professor/poet/comediennes. Had I known such a woman existed, I would have started looking for one a long time ago.

In honor of this month’s theme (love, sex, dating, etc.) and of me finding love at an age when my parents were already gearing me up for kindergarten, I offer you a few lessons in love, mostly (completely) autobiographical:

Use sweatpants cautiously. Depending on the day, or the occasion, they can render you either cute or slovenly in the eyes of your mate. In college, I actually owned a pair of cargo sweatpants – the slogan for which should have been: “For the man on the go, or more likely going nowhere.” Point being, I wore them way too often in the presence of my then-girlfriend, and she never mentioned them. I suspect they were at least partially to blame for our break-up: months later, neither were a part of my life.

Don’t keep score.

When you’re in a relationship, and you have sex with that person for the first time, and they say afterwards, ‘That was great, but I don’t necessarily want to do that all the time” – then you should not be in a relationship with that person.

Never drink too little – or too much. The perfect amount of booze is a great lubricant for a budding relationship, as there’s little more exciting than a good-old fashioned afternoon drunk with your girl. Conversely un-exciting: trying to get her to “see your side” when you can only see through one glassy eyeball.

While we’re on booze, if you ever drunkenly injure yourself, it’s best to just sleep outside, fake an abduction, or check yourself into a hospital – no matter how minor the wound. Fat, drunk, and bleeding from the nose in your boxer briefs is no way to go through life/love.

If your mom doesn’t like your girlfriend, you don’t like your girlfriend. (Then again, mine picked my dad…so…)

Just because your girl isn’t materialistic doesn’t mean she doesn’t want you to buy her stuff from time to time, or better yet, make her stuff. Put some thought into it, dum-dum.

Never break up with your girlfriend at the skating rink. You can only go around that track so many times before you eventually have to face her and her friends; also, it will ruin Def Leppard for you.

If you both get into talking about weird, “funny” stories from your dating past, proceed with caution; here’s guessing yours aren’t nearly as “funny” to her.

Don’t be a scared, jealous a**hole. But, don’t be scared to be jealous. It’s healthy from time to time. Salads are occasionally healthy, too, while we’re at it.

If she has a poster, or picture frame, or a pillow that says, ‘Dance Like No One’s Watching,” you should leave when she’s not looking. If someone shows up to a date drunk, and then proceeds to call you several weird boyish nicknames like ‘Ace,’ ‘Sport,’ ‘Chief,’ and ‘Hoss,’ and while you’re making out playfully threatens to “kill you,” don’t even wait until she’s not looking. Just GO.

If you leave your watch at a one-night stand’s house, you’re getting a new watch. (This does not apply to iPhones; any amount of awkwardness can be overcome for $500).

Don’t take your friend to prom. Neither of you are getting laid.

Regarding braces: Fifth grade – cute. Now – no.

If you’re even remotely starting to lose your hair, shave your head, or buy a cowboy hat. You can’t be 24 and have a comb-over – you’ll just look like a less-accomplished version of your dad, and no women are attracted to that…except your mom. That’s weird, too.

When you’re in love, don’t be afraid to admit it. It’s the only time in your life when it’s acceptable to feel like you’re better than everyone else…

But, for f*ck’s sake – don’t ever write about it.


Travis Hoewischer, Editor-in-Chief


POPS @ 01/31/2013 05:16 pm

No sweatpants no comb over thats bullshit.