Dinner Date

Wake-Up Call

Just Say Yes

Self Sabotage?

Breakdown Breakthrough

How Soon is Too Soon?

Changing for the Better

Dr. Jekyll and Ms. Hyde

In Treatment



Threesomes Please Apply

Witchy Woman

The More the Merrier

Fear of Rejection

Fire Away

Great Lake State

Your Love is My Drug

Never Initiate

Horrifically Brutal


Carrie Bradshaw Complex

You've Been Advised

No Exceptions

Dinner Date

Julia talks dishes on her fabulous dinner party and the infamous checklist song.

Well hello there, friends!

PROMMM! Oh wait, wait, sorry, we’re done with that date. Damn it! Back to reality. Or reality TV, that is. (Wah wahhh.)

So, where were we? Oh, yes. Andrew and I had just gone on a rather epic first date involving tulle and tiaras and tuxedos (all the things that make life great), and two things happened: A) he didn’t run away screaming and B) he actually kissed me. A revelation! My god, we’re six episodes in and this is my first kiss. It’s like I’m 14 again. Geez.

Except, to be honest, I still choked at the end and asked insistently if he would call me (slaps self). Baby steps, people. Baby steps.

He did call, many times. He called and he emailed and he texted, and I called and emailed and texted right back. When we saw each other again after that, it was sweet and rather magical, and certainly the most connected I’ve felt to anyone since my ex, Jack.

More than anything, I was smitten with his musical talents -- he’s one of the most brilliant singer/songwriter/guitarists I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. We’re not talking about strumming a little to get a girl into bed. We’re talking about a full out Gift from God, caps intended. I give respect where respect is due, and when he plays guitar for me, I go into a bliss bubble.

Maybe it’s because I never did that “musician” thing in college, but I finally in that moment got why women throw their panties on stage. It’s sexy as HELL. More than that, at least with Andrew, it’s sexy and spiritual. The son of a former nun (seriously, you can’t make this s--t up), he writes the most touching, spiritually-connected, folksy songs (check them out at My favorites are Heaven, Ghost, and Run Run Girl. When I got very sick earlier this year, Andrew recorded his own rendition of “Amazing Grace” (one of my all-time favorite songs) and sent it to me. I must have listened to it a hundred times.Now let’s fast forward to the dinner party I threw with my roommate JP… but first, a few words about my sweetheart of an ex, Taylor, who lives up in (where else?) Palo Alto -- or at least he did at the time (he now lives in SF). Taylor and I dated in 2010, and after the most amicable breakup known to humankind, we became best friends. We literally haven’t touched each other since then, but we’ve gone on vacations together, I took him as my plus one to my best childhood friend’s wedding, we talk for hours on the phone, etc. Born and raised in Montana, he’s just a solid, ethical human being with impeccable character and a hysterical sense of humor. We’ve been each other’s wingpeople -- I’ve set him up on (no joke) half a dozen dates. He met my last boyfriend, Jack, in Tahoe for my 30th birthday and wasn’t the biggest fan, to be honest. Not because he was jealous -- there isn’t any of that, I promise you -- just because he didn’t see it being a good fit, and he wanted/wants me to be happy.

BTW, if it sounds like I’m waxing poetic about Taylor, I suppose I am. He really is that outstanding a person. Plus his friends, who came to the dinner party held that evening, are equally fantastic. And yes, he reads The Atlantic (#5 on The Checklist!)

So Taylor decided to fly down from SF to visit me, see some of his friends (who have become my friends too), and meet Andrew at the very first dinner party JP and I have ever held in our new home. If I look like a woman who can throw dinner parties with no stress, you’re gravely mistaken, my friend, so I begged my sweet and talented girlfriend Brit Morin, the Martha Stewart of the Facebook generation (seriously, check out her site at, to help.

But a dinner party isn’t really a dinner party without entertainment. As it turns out, living with a ridiculously beautiful and talented musician, AKA Miss JP ( and @JuliaPriceMusic), helps a bit! And as JP is a little bit of a sly one, she stole my 73-point Checklist and decided to write a song about it, which is shown in this episode very much abridged. If you’d like to hear the entire song, you can download it on iTunes. It’s FANTASTIC, and every single one of the items she lists is ... yes, actually on my checklist. I thought it was so cute that we made a music video of it, which you can find on JP’s YouTube Channel (, or here: she played it for Andrew, I couldn’t stop laughing... and she wanted to tell you, in her own words, what she was thinking when she wrote it. Without further ado, here is Miss Julia Price:

“Julia Allison really likes lists. To-do lists, grocery lists, and of course her dating Checklist of 73 things she wants in a guy.

Since I live with Julia, I wasn’t too surprised when I started scanning the bullet points of the now infamous Checklist referred to in every episode of Bravo’s Miss Advised. She’s a writer, so of course I expected to find details -- but I didn’t expect THAT much detail! Some of my favorites are:

#37: Well-traveled/wants to travel with me (in style!)
#48: Can play piano or guitar brilliantly (or sing)
#64: 75% homebody, 25% enjoys swanky events

I couldn’t help but to laugh playfully at my overly-organized roommate, but in the back of my mind I wondered if Julia was onto something with her list. Was it helping her to manifest someone who would truly make her happy? Or was it preventing her from finding true love because she was more worried about the “guy who looks good on paper” than what she felt in her heart? Well since I didn’t have my own list, I thought I would hone in on my songwriting skills to write “The Checklist Song” and perform it in front of our friends in good fun, especially because Julia really appreciates playful teasing (see #18 on her list “makes me laugh”).

What was meant to be somewhat of an improvisational ditty in front of our friends turned out to perhaps show more of her cards than she was ready to put on the table. Always the first to poke fun at herself, Julia enjoyed the song so much the first time around that she asked me to play it again in front of the new guy she was dating, Andrew. Oh no. No, this can’t be good, I thought as I started to play and we both remembered that unlike her dear friends who knew her well, Andrew was still nearly a stranger. With each bullet point that I sang I could see his eyes widening in fear... he was making mental notes of all the ways that he fell short of this massive list.

But something that Andrew couldn’t yet see, was that he was the first guy who came around in a long time that made Julia question her checklist. The Checklist wasn’t making her happy anymore. I knew that. She knew that. Our friends knew that. I finished the song feeling more nervous than I had been before my first SXSW performance or any other show for that matter. Did Andrew now know too much?”

Did he? I guess you’ll just have to wait for Episode 7 to see!

In the meantime, a Social Media Cheat Sheet (if you want to learn more!) for all the people you see in this episode:

Me - @JuliaAllison / / / -- email me!
JP - @JuliaPriceMusic / / /
Andrew - @JellyD / / /

Breakdown Breakthrough

Julia Allison think Andrew did the right thing being honest with her.

Well, hello there! Welcome to the penultimate episode of this first season of Miss Advised. Only one week left until the finale in which... Oh, let’s not get ahead of ourselves, shall we? This episode finds us back at my house in Marina del Rey surrounded by my ELLE editor (Keith) and a lovely ELLE photographer who can’t stop laughing at my ridiculous bedroom/closet/home/life. Sigh.

Photo shoots with new photographers make me self-conscious as it is, but to have one conducted by ELLE (in my own home, which tends to veer toward the eccentric) was beyond nerve-wracking. My mother was in town at the time, and I felt like she wouldn’t be thrilled with the concept of a photoshoot (She thinks they are “frivolous” and “self-indulgent” -- even though the shoot was my editor Keith’s idea). My nerves stemmed from that, along with anxiety thanks to a confluence of stresses, most notably my blocked writing. So much so that I was breaking out and stress eating. Not exactly what you want prior to a photo shoot.

Plus, Keith sort of...rolled his eyes at my closet. It’s not often you have your boss in your closet, but when you do, you definitely don’t want him to react like that. Especially if he works at a prominent fashion magazine. You start wondering if you just aren’t cool enough to exist, let alone write for said magazine. In a misguided attempt at "cool," the first outfit I tried on for the photo-shoot was this Rachel Zoe maxi skirt in blue (not pink!), which I paired with a simple white tee. It was a look that felt a lot more hip than I actually am. Ironically dressing that way made me uncomfortable. It just didn’t feel ME. But when I put on a vintage pink dress and sat (upon Keith’s request) in a pile of pink tulle on my bed, tiara in my hair, somehow I felt like myself again.

My editor chastised me about my taste (both in fashion and in home decor), but at the end of the day, I sleep in my bedroom every night, and I have to live with myself. Keith doesn’t! I figure it’s more important I like my own space than if anyone else does. Besides, it’s a great litmus test. If something as silly as a pink bedroom or a proclivity toward occasionally wearing frothy dresses scares a guy away, then I’m not convinced he was worth the trouble in the first place!I hope every woman realizes this: you don’t have to smooth away all your “eccentric” personality traits to find the right man. If he’s right for you, he’ll love you FOR those eccentricities, as long as you’re not counting “being a total bitch” amongst them.

As for the writer’s block I discussed with Keith: I DID eventually get through it, although it took some serious work with therapists regarding my anxiety and self-esteem issues. So far, I’ve published seven columns on (it will be eight by the end of the Guinea Pig of Love series, next week) each written at 2,000 words (they ended up getting edited down to 1,000 or so). You can read them all here. For someone who has been as tortured by writing as I have recently, getting through these is a victory for me. I know it could always come back, but at least I’ve won the battle. Next up: trying to win the war!

Ah, and now for the slightly more depressing portion of this episode -- my ill-advised (if you will) trip to San Francisco to see Mister Andrew. So, about Andrew. Sigh. I don’t know where to begin, but suffice it to say that although it seemed that trip was fast, it really wasn’t. Since the first “PROMMM!” date, we had spent time together, including weekend trips. We talked frequently on the phone and sent zillions of texts and emails. He played me music on his guitar and cooked dinner. I had met his friends and he had met mine. It was time to have that talk. You know, the dreaded “where is this going?” talk. I’m not a huge fan of those talks, but things were getting (as Andrew put it during that conversation) “to that depth” where we needed to discuss it. But Andrew did me a favor, and as much as it hurt at the time, for that I thank him. He didn’t feel that he could fall in love with me, and while that wasn’t what I wanted to hear then, it certainly was the right thing for him to say, because it was true. What if he had led me on, allowing me to develop deeper and deeper feelings that he didn’t reciprocate? That would have been brutal and kept me from being able to heal and move on to find someone who COULD fall in love with me. Andrew is a good man, and he couldn’t do that.

I cried quite a bit when Andrew broke up with me. (Oh, let’s be honest, when Andrew dumped me.) But it wasn’t just over Andrew. I started crying over Andrew and segued into crying over every guy who had EVER dumped me, and then from there into every relationship that hadn’t worked out, and from THERE into a future filled with men who would dump me and relationships that wouldn’t work out. It was quite a cry I had, and poor Andrew sat there rubbing my back, wondering what the hell was going on. Had he accidentally killed my puppy? No, I explained to him later. This is simply how women grieve (some women...sometimes). We stack all of these terrible things on top of one another, one after the other after the other, until it feels like our romantic lives are doomed, like we won’t ever succeed, like we won’t ever be loved. It was as if everything I’ve ever feared I looked at and felt completely and totally throughout my body. I grieved for every end I’ve ever had.

And here’s the strange part -- after I sobbed for about half an hour (and drunk half a bottle of champagne), I felt inexplicably better. Like I had gotten it out of my system. It wasn’t pleasant, but it was certainly cathartic. I had been holding in so much pain, so much fear, so much disappointment and regret over my love life, and Andrew was pretty much the last straw to a mini-breakdown. A breakdown I needed to have, as it turns out, to have a breakthrough.What breakthrough, you ask?

Oh, about that. Well, you’ll just have to wait until the season finale for that!

P.S. That slap? That was just a joke. Even in moments of sadness and disappointment we can (and should) laugh.

WHERE YOU CAN FIND ME ONLINE (if you want to read more!)

Me: @JuliaAllison / / / email me!


My roommate, JP: @JuliaPriceMusic / / /