Conflicts

Do you judge someone from their public forum content?

This is a new quandry. At my fingertips I have over a hundred blogs where I can hear Adam's opinions on everything from politics to international travel. But do I want to? Should I filter through podcasts until I stumble upon a dealbreaker, or actually take a chance that traditional dating will triumph? In this era of complete dissemination of personal information, is there really any mystery left in the prelude to a relationship? Is it even really fair to come into a date armed with arsenal of "How could you say..." "Do you really believe ...?" In all fairness, I should divulge the fact that I myself am blogging about him-that would be proper etiquette, right? Or no, should I veil my own secrets and guilty blogging desires, until we're seriously involved? After all, I have taken stringent steps to screen my blog from his eyes (as in giving my friends the talk). But the question remains: do I ever let him know that I have unfettered access to his thoughts and words? If you put your life out there is it really private at all?


The problem is, I think I like this guy. I'm trying to be cautious because we've all been here before, and you've gotta reel in the dopamine/imagination/inner romantic that keeps annoyingly surfacing when you're actually vibing with someone new. So the urge to stalk the hell out of him randomly will consume me, and only a firm self-control and belief that drawing out this period is worth it curbs that impulse. But in order for us to move forward, honesty is probably best in all things (in medium doses, of course). So maybe, just maybe, after loosening him up after a few glasses of vino at Zengo (a Chinatown favorite, check out the Latin-Japanese fusion tapas) I could reveal my own dark secret? Which means that in the future, Adam could be reading this right now. Err, well, hello there Adam- and welcome. Hope your day's going well. 

Is this ACTUALLY happening? Technology collides with Dating?

It turns out that Adam, the new flavor of the week, who I was (and still am) pretty excited about, HAS. A. BLOG. 


And my friends, this isn't just any blog. This is a collaborative, podcasted, twitter-tastic blog. You can find it here: The DC AM. From what I've heard so far, its a bunch of guys talking about life/sex/drinking/sports over whiskey. 


Now, some of you are saying, so what? This isn't a big deal. Everyone has a blog. 


Yes, until you hear the person you're dating talking about YOUR DATE on a podcast! I was...stunned. The good news was, it looked like we were on the same page. It was still bizarre. Here is his exact description of the date at 6:58 under "The McRib" episode. Date talks about date. So yes, it looks like I am now blogging about my date podcasting on his blog about our date, which I initially blogged a few days ago. 


Go figure. 


At least now, I am armed and prepared for the next date. Thank you, Facebook. 

The Bloody Foot [Halloween Episode]

If you've never had a bloody foot on a date, then you haven't really lived.

The sequence of events? It all started innocent enough-dinner, drinks, good vibes- and then (completely incomprehensible) we went to Mad Hatter for a little dancing to end the night. Now, for any of you who have ventured into Mad Hatter on a Friday night, you know that creating a fire hazard is not something the owners are worried about. So my date and I squeeze past our fellow DC brethren and try to carve out our little inch of the dance floor. Just as things are getting groovy, I feel a STAKE come down on my toes. A flash of stiletto disappeared, and then I feel something sticky and wet under my foot. Suddenly, I see a veritable pool of blood spreading quickly out from my foot. For a moment I can't quite comprehend: am I actually bleeding on the dance floor? It was like a bad horror movie. I turn to my date and he becomes the definition of competent, leading us out of the hordes of people. As I walk, I see a trail of smeared blood in our wake.

Only one fact salvaged this night: the fact that my date was conveniently a doctor. This was his moment, his chance to shine in his element. Swift Bollywood action entailed: a cab, first aid kit, sober instructions, and follow-up procedures.

Moral of the Story: Blood on a first date is not an instant dealbreaker.
Corollary Moral: Trauma unites the human race. Embrace joint traumatic incidents.

The Marathon Date: Breaking My Own Rules

Once in a blue moon, and after one too many drinks, a girl breaks her own rules. This is likely to happen when you are on a really great date. 


Broken Rules of this Past Date with Adam:

1. I went over the 3 1/2 hour maximum - in fact the date lasted a good six hours.
2. The first kiss happened halfway through the first date (though on a positive note, that means we avoided the awkward end of the night moment). 
3. We started making future plans (aka restaurants/activities we should try). 
4. Ex-talk (although, five hours in, this is bound to come up). 
5. Paying for stuff. Really? I have always told you all that on the first date, they must treat YOU!  
6. Going over the 3 drink limit. 
7. Acting SUPER interested...maybe too interested? Yikes. 
8. Way too much first date kiss action. You're supposed to play a little hard to get, right? 

We shall see what I reap from sowing a harvest of bad decisions! Will keep you posted on Adam (See post below: "So, we're all on OkCupid?") 

Don't Fake It!

Be a Part of Cosmo's International "Don't Fake It" Day!

Yes boys, this means you too!

"So, we're all on OkCupid?!?"

EPIC FRIDAY.

I hate to admit it, but it looks like OKCupid shot its arrow of fun into my life pretty skillfully.

Using the Okcupid Locals app, a cute guy and I agreed to meet at one of my favorite happy hour singles spots, Dirty Martini. It was my very first use of the app and I was hesitant, but what the heck live a little.

-I get to Dirty Martini. Commence talking with cute guy [Greg]. Cute guy's friends are nearby. They say hi. I say hi. They seem pretty normal.
-Thirty minutes later, my also cute girlfriends show up. The whole lot of us decide to get a table.
-During dinner, we (there are six of us) all have a "Wait....we're all on OkCupid???" moment. Slightly awkward but hilarious moment where cute guy's friend (who is uber cute) suddenly realizes that he messaged me a few weeks ago, asking me to dinner, on OkCupid. Session commences where we pull our phones out and look at one another's profiles, and figure out why I had rejected him. Reason: bad picture.
-Two hours and three bottles of vino later (which is really quite excellent here, I recommend the pinot noir), the group decides, what the hell, let's karaoke.
-We hop a cab to Muzette, located in AdMo, and spend the next two hours singing/dancing/screaming/drinking.
-Tip:  Muzette has private karaoke rooms, and a room service button for ordering drinks. Also, the remote control allows you to skip and load songs at will so you can fit a lot more into the time frame than with traditional karaoke.
-Over the course of this experience, my initial date [Greg] and I essentially pull the old switcheroo- he ends up giving his number to my friend, and his friend [Adam] (the one I rejected on OKC originally, you following all this?) and I exchange numbers. You might think this was awkward, but it actually wasn't. This is what happens when you throw a group of young, fun, attractive professionals together who wouldn't have met otherwise except that they all are on a dating website.
-At the end of the night, we agree that this was night was the most fun we had had in a long time. And I have a lot of fun, kids, so that's actually saying a lot.

So what's next? Oh right, Adam and I are on our way to a date this week. And my friend? Also looking forward to linking up with Greg. The best part? We've actually kinda had an organic meeting, met one another's friends, and tested each other's karaoke abilities.

Not bad for an electronic cherub.

The FUTURE of Dating: Location, Location, Location

What will they think of next?

Gone are the onerous days of online dating, where you and a perfect stranger message each other until you finally agree to meet. This requires plumbing through your schedules until you coordinate the big date. And if that date blows, which unfortunately is more likely than not, it can often feel like a colossal waste of time.

No longer, my friends.

Welcome to dating based on geolocation. The catch? You need a smartphone such as the Droid or Iphone. You also must be relatively comfortable with a bunch of strangers knowing your general area. The OKCupid app (the one I use) showcases the matches in your area that are at a 70% and higher compatibility, and enables you to independently select "Let's Meet." If your match also hits "Let's Meet," then the app links you both up to message one another and plan the details. The locals feature allows you to "Set Your Broadcast," to "Let's meet for ... drinks/coffee/dinner" and then broadcasts the general area (Dupont) and your availability.

The idea is clever in that it banks on the fact that if you're already going out, there's a good chance you'd like to run into someone fun. And...to be honest...wouldn't we all? Don't we want to feel like we are organically meeting guys/girls in their natural environment?

Now, at first I was wary. This app seems sketchy and even stalkerish. The traditional messaging system at least allowed you to vet the person before you met him/her. But then I discovered that the locals system actually brings dating back around to a more traditional form of dating! You're out with friends, you see someone cute, you chat/flirt, and then within twenty or so minutes you figure whether you'd like to never see them again, see them for a night, or see them for days to come. And with the locals app, you have a powerful tool at your hands: you can meet in groups, which ups the numbers and potential matches at your disposal. We're talking both convenience and efficiency, wrapped into one.

It looks like dating on crack as arrived. And it's just a free app away.

Master Flowchart Part II

Continuing on:

4. The four hours before the date loom. If you are a girl, you begin to rummage through your assortment of clothes and eventually determine that "nothing works." This is followed by complaining to your roommate that you need to go shopping immediately. You finally try something on but feel FAT in it- oh no! You can't be feeling fat when you meet the potential man of your dreams! You switch to something with more give (after all, you have to eat and drink, right?), but find that it just isn't as sexy. You change back into the sexier outfit. This cycle repeats until finally you get the opinion of your roommates who assure you that in fact, you do NOT look fat. You are now ready to go to Step 5. 

5. Your hair is perfectly coiffed. However, knowing that the metro will blast it into oblivion, you over-hairspray. Knowing that the stenchy metro will also strip away your perfume, and cause you to slightly sweat by the time of arrival, you attempt to safeguard by over-perfuming and over-deodorizing. Glancing at the clock, you realize that you run this mother like a swiss army watch. 

6. Now, this is a new advent in the pre-date ritual, but highly recommended if you are going on a blind date. Exactly HALF a glass of WHITE wine. Why do I say this? White does not stain your teeth, and half a glass prevents you from revealing every damn detail about yourself. This also loosens you just enough to seem calm, natural, and relaxed. You've got this. You run this mother like a swiss army watch. 

7. Brush your teeth (and then re-apply lipstick). 

8. Pick shoes according to your date's height. If he's 6'4'', strap on those stilettos and grin and bear it. If he's your height, wear flats. 

9. Adjust your Ipod to play only ENCOURAGING songs. Do not listen to "Nothing Compares to You"  by Sinead O'Connor (best version linked). Do not listen to "Bittersweet Symphony". And please, please DO NOT listen to "Cancer" by My Chemical Romance. 

I recommend a positive melody set in a major key that includes somewhat nonsensical lyrics but conveys a general hopefulness about life. Personal favorites include: Maroon Five's "Runaway" off their peppy "Hands All Over" album; the enchanting Ms. Swift's "Sparks Fly" off the triple-platinum Speak Now; and Natasha Bedingfield's "Neon Lights". These songs make you think: yes! True love is just one date away. 

And sometimes, just sometimes, it really can feel that way. 

Harold and Kumar and . . . Jane?

A contribution from a loyal follower:


Jane is under the assumption she is going out with Harold. Jane picks Harold up. 
Harold: "My cousin's going to come with us ok?" 
Jane: "I guess." 
Harold and Kumar get into the car. 
Jane realizes Harold and Kumar are baked.
Jane proceeds to babysit Harold and Kumar, watching them consume a multitude of munchies over the next few hours.
Jane never sees Harold or his cousin again. 


Moral: Don't bring your cousin on a date.
Corollary Moral: Don't get baked before a date. 


Don't get baked AND bring your cousin. 

The Master Flowchart Part I

I would like to take you on a journey with me. 


Flowchart for Dating Progression


1. See/meet a new guy online or in a bar. Said guy seems "cool" "cute" "real."


2. Said guy asks you out. You most likely agree to "drinks" or "dinner" if he's really ambitious. You tell your friends. They tell their friends. Everyone agrees that being single is "fun." 


3. The time leading up to the date involves polarizing emotions:  spiraling expectations followed subsequently by overwhelming skepticism. It is fair to say that your thoughts range from: "What if he is the one?" to "This is going to be a waste of a Thursday night." 


Based on my experience,  it is usually the latter. 

Rock Bottom

There is a universal sign that the date sucks--


You talk about the date while you are both still on the date.


(Pass the salt)


A word to the wise - do not eat at the Taste of India. 

Drinking and Dialing

I've done it. You've done it. It's not been one of our most shining moments. 

But at some point, between the "I'm only having one glass of wine" and the inevitable kamikaze shots at MIllie & Al's, your phone magicked itself out of your pocket/purse, scrolled to an ex/friend/family member/colleague/other and extracted from you a text so shameless and undignified that it could kill whatever little political ambitions you had left. 

Answer: Don't Dial: the App that prevents drinking and dialing. 

Pros: It locks down contacts for 24 hours or enables you to find a 'designated dialer' (aka friend) to enter in a password in order to unlock your phone. It works like a charm- you can neither text nor dial. 

Cons: It does not prevent that person from calling or texting YOU. In addition, if you are that obsessed and desperate to call that person, you can tap in the actual number on the keypad and your phone will call them. 

Moral of the Story: Don't memorize any phone numbers of significant others. 

Corollary Moral of the Story: I got 99 problems and drunk dialing isn't one. 

Manorexia

Girls and boys, listen up.

Manorexia is spreading in this city like a genital disease among swingers.

Example #1: At a seafood restaurant where all we had to eat were miniscule mussels, a date reportedly said "I don't eat bread." You can imagine my consternation.

Example #2: "This food is amazing!" followed by a helping of exactly one serving. Really? I proceeded to shovel down.

Moral of the Story: Unless you can share a common love of starvation, don't date a manorexic.
Corollary Moral of the Story: The manorexic will tell you things like: "I just ate," or "I'm trying to get into a more balanced lifestyle of diet and exercise." Translation: I am a manorexic.

"My Mother Would Love You"

This post is short and sweet:

Never tell a girl, after ten minutes of speaking with her, that your mother would love her. Messaging, people.

Oh, and you should definitely try the truffle cheese they keep in the back at Vinoteca.

No Reservations = Marathon First Date

Last month I ventured on a date with 6'4'' (a staggering13 inch differential) in yet another attempt at finding someone who, at the very least, I could sit still enough through the entree long enough to not conjure an emergency story to escape as early as possible. Due to my date's lack of foresight, we found ourselves waiting for 45 minutes at an adjoining bar before they even called our name. Which meant that at the moment the hostess jotted our names down, I was locked in for a good 2:50 (it actually came to over 3:15 if you include the car ride there and back). The food of course was delicious, and I personally recommend the Pearl Dive Oyster Palace  for its variety of oyster platters and po' boys, but as you will agree, good food - awkward date - reservations = marathon first date. We all love those dates where time flies and you're taking a cab in the wee hours due to the wine-induced giddiness and dopamine rush of a quality first date, but here I experienced the anti-thesis: the marathon first date.

Moral of the Story: Make reservations.
Corollary Moral of the Story: Find out whether he made reservations, and if he hasn't, take matters into your own hands and call the restaurant. Trust me, you will thank yourself later.