ThursDater: Fun for the Holidaze

It’s almost December, and holiday party invites are piling up like DUIs in the Lohan household. Time to attack this stack, because you’re going to hit as many of these suckers as possible. Some of them, like your friend’s ugly sweater party, will be filled with joyful merriment and hot, new love interests. Others, like your mandatory holiday work party, are obligatory nightmares. Unfortunately this year, these two fall on the same night.

As a genius of seasonal socials, you are not worried. Your friend’s party will be the perfect excuse to leave the work function early for “family stuff,” and it’ll simultaneously limit your time trapped with Coffee-breath McGee and the weird accounts guy with the chinstrap beard.

When you get there, you sling a few vodka sodas to pass the time during the painful white elephant gift exchange. Once everyone is playing with their crappy gift, you recognize your chance to slip out, unnoticed. Your boss is busy guzzling Glenlivet; everyone else is in a state of horror/delight because one of the temps has a nip slip while she screams the lyrics to “All I Want For Christmas Is You” into her beer-bottle microphone. It’s time to get out of here and get your game on…and by game, we mean a shirt covered in snowmen made of pom-poms.

You dart out of there like the Ghost of Christmas Past with your white elephant gift in tow: a blow-up doll with a $10 Starbucks gift card taped to her chest. Good one, Jerry. You’re still the creepiest guy in the office. As soon as you leave the bar–a.k.a. the turbo club where the HR girl’s boyfriend sometimes DJs/plays his iPod–a cab appears and whisks you away to a tacky holiday wonderland.

ImageYou arrive at your friends’ house and enter a scene that looks like a seasonal craft show hosted by drunk, midwestern moms: jingle-bell earrings, reindeer-antler headbands, menorah tiaras, and necklaces made out of fake Christmas lights– all decorating a sea of joyful, familiar faces tucked into Goodwill turtlenecks and holiday Cosby sweaters. Welcome home.

Spirits are bright. You sip mulled wine and boozy cider. You make a toast in a jolly elf voice every time you open a bottle of celebratory champers…and there are many. One of your amateur friends is sticking to the extra-thick spiked nog. As an experienced veteran of the December Bender, you know that this is a marathon, not a sprint. Say no to nog. His creamy mustache and spastic dance moves are entertaining now, but we all know he’ll be puking in the fireplace later.

You wander away from the nog-aholics and spot a gorgeous guest standing alone near some expertly-placed mistletoe. It’s a holiday miracle. You lean over and ask your friend for an introduction, and she happily obliges–after all, what are friends for? Thankfully you’ve concocted the perfect recipe for holiday seduction: comparing and contrasting your hideous attire while recalling many excellent quotes from both Elf and Home Alone. You’ve obviously sealed the deal. Success. Mazel Tov. Hallelujah.

The party winds down, and you hail a cab with your ugly sweater lover. You are trapped in a snow globe of emotion: Pride that you expertly navigated both soirees. Gratitude that your friend helped you meet someone great. And most of all, relief that you didn’t get so drunk on hard cider that you ripped the garland off the doorframe, wrapped it around yourself, seized the Christmas tree and started dancing with it–claiming you were its “evergreen lover”–and then passed out in the driveway where you traumatized a group of young carolers. No need to repeat December ‘07.ImageNo matter how many parties you crash, the holidays can be awfully chilly without a special someone to keep you warm. Don’t die of lonely-person frostbite: play Hinge and give yourself the beautiful gift of friend-of-friend romance. In the spirit of meeting that perfect holiday companion–and because we just love parties–Hinge would like to cordially invite you to our own fabulous holiday bash!

Join us for the first annual Glover Park Crush Party at Town Hall on Thursday, December 6th. RSVP and play Hinge over the next few days, and we’ll secretly invite anyone you save. You’ll mingle while sipping free bubbly from 7-9, and once you’ve had enough to grow some jingle balls, throw some of our other holiday drink specials on your crush’s tab: $3 beer, $4 wine and $5 cocktails all night long.

 Anyway, let’s rage… it’s gonna be magical.

ThursDater: Wednesday T-Givs Edition

Thanksgiving is a time for coming together. More specifically, it’s the weekend when you are most likely to run into every single person you ever knew in high school, and potentially hook up with one of them. Or, a few of them. Or, all of them at once– hey, do what you do, we’ll never judge you. But, since no one wants to end up surprised by their walk-of-shame on Thanksgiving morning, we’ve got you covered with a quick guide to the Wednesday night mob-scene at your hometown’s chosen watering hole.


  • You will be asked “What are you up to these days?” at least 157,246 times between 10pm and 1am. Have something good prepared. No one but your mom actually wants to hear about your new accounting job. Instead, say you’re really into uni-cycling. You led Occupy Sesame Street. Whatevs.
  • 1 in 5 of you will take a shot with a teacher. Make sure it’s something disgusting, like Sambuca, so you remember to regret it.
  • At least one of your friends will stay home. Because their new fiancé is tired. Or just because they got boring. Or bald. Or old. Leave the stragglers– this is your night to shine.
  • Someone will puke because they “haven’t raged this hard since college!” Do not be this person. Car bombs taste like milkshakes, but they’re not your friend. They’re named after a violent explosive device. Think about it.


  • 97% of people hook up with a high school classmate. This can end up as a great story if you play your cards right. To make sure you wake up satisfied and not in the emergency room, we’ve drafted some notes on the proper hookup protocol for the 5 types you’re likely to run into tonight.

(in descending order of preference. Unless you’re going for extreme craycray, in which case go to the bottom and read upwards)

Somehow still your ultimate fantasy. You used to stutter like the waterboy whenever they asked you a question in Bio, and start uncontrollably sweating when they walked by you in the hallway. But you’re older and more experienced now, and you know to aim high. Go for them first while you’re feeling fresh and powerful. We can already hear the entire bar chanting your name and cheering as you both float off into the night, making out in a golden chariot led by giant swans.

…If not, at least you’ve left plenty of time for back-up options. Read on.

Skinny Steve and Patty Pizza-face have transformed in the years since puberty had its cruel way with them, and they’re looking pretty hot. Some of your ex-classmates might try and challenge you here, but you’re a custom Maserati, and they’re just a fleet of base model Kia Souls. Plus, no matter how much of a smokeshow they’ve become, they’ll always have an inferiority complex. So remember, you “always had a thing for them.” It works every time.

Long-overdue hate sex with someone who once broke your heart is the ultimate cure for an awkward Wednesday night. In fact, ancient Sumerian medicine men used to prescribe such acts for almost every affliction. In any case, if you decide to go for this one, approach the situation carefully, and remember: You are a sensual powerhouse of desire with no human emotion. There’s no crying in hate sex. We repeat: there is no crying in hate sex. And do NOT get breakfast the next morning. It’s preferable to leave in the middle of the night… out the window if necessary.

He rolls up to the bar in his parents’ Camry wearing stained Abercrombie sweatpants, blasting the football pump-up mix from sophomore year. Her “Live, Laugh, Love” tramp stamp she got at Beach Week is peeking out of her jeans, and she’s aggressively trying to grind with ev-er-y-one. But hey– now’s your chance to get some for your high school self, and here they are, ready to go home with the first thing that recognizes them. Desperate? Maybe. But there’s no shame in some good old-fashioned redemption.

If you have one of these, sucks to be you. We don’t need to remind you to avoid this person at all costs, so stay alert.  You hardly knew them in high school, but they’ve liked and commented on everything you’ve posted on Facebook, basically ever. You’ll probably only hook up with them if you’re plastered, so take that 9th round of shots at your own risk. Even if you don’t see them most of the night, know they’re def lurking nearby, counting your drinks, and waiting to unleash full-on creeper mode once you get drunk enough.

* * *

So, there’s your guide, valiant Wednesday Warriors of Hinge. Use it and be crowned the Grand Lovemaster of Thanksgiving. The bards will sing of your triumph and a personal scribe shall engrave your name into the sidewalk outside the bar, where future generations will admire it and share your legend each year following. And even if you don’t encounter any of the above scenarios and happen to end your night alone, tomorrow you can always play Hinge and drown your loneliness in your mom’s pumpkin pie, while you nurse your crucial hangover.

Happy T-givs, y’all!