A Civil Action

Everyone knows that there is no good way to break up. There's just no good way to tell someone you are sick of them/ready to move on/etc. or hear such things being uttered to you. 


However, friends now inform me that there is a good way to break up a "dating relationship." A dating relationship can exist anywhere from two dates until six dates. (After six dates, if you are aren't sure you want to be in a relationship with person, you have issues with co-dependency or commitment, and I would recommend a self-help book.) Now, what is the proper protocol concerning a dating relationship? I conducted a brief informal survey and find that the below is actually appreciated by your date-ee (See Adam from other entries). 

• After a first date: a brief text informing datee that you are 'busy'/going out of town for a while/want to just stay friends 
• After two dates: a longer text mentioning any of the above, with an added "it was nice to meet you"
• After three dates: An email outlining very briefly and in the least harsh way possible why you are better off "friends." This can include white lies. Examples that I've used include "I'm having some issues with an ex right now" or "I'm not ready for a relationship" or finally, "I think that you need someone who is more ______ ."(insert adjective.
• After four dates: An email if you're shy; a brief telephone call outlining the above can also suffice. Remember that the longer you've been dating, the better your reasons need to be (lace them with sugar) for not seeing this person again.
• After five dates: Call them up and give them a damn good reason. If you can't think of one then you need to come up with a really good one-the ex thing usually works; getting back together with whoever works; say that you are anti-marriage; anti-relationship; celibate; whatever. 
• After six dates: you are breaking up, in which case there is really not a good way to break up (see above). 

Utilizing these steps, you can have a civil break-up. Friends have reported staying friends with people they have dated; passing them on to other friends (one woman's junk is another woman's treasure); or at least ending things with some dignity. And as Adam told me later, he both respected and appreciated that we took the time to say bye, wish each other luck, and agree that we were both pretty freakin' awesome people. 

Will Will Kiss?

Am I missing something? 


Another perfect, marathon date with William where he surprised me with tickets to Cirque de Soleil and my favorite crunchy munchy snack - Goldfish (which he remembered from our first date, sharp memory!) Dinner at Bistro du Coin followed (I recommend the La Traditionelle Mouclade des Charentes, which are cooked in a delicate, light curry) and accompanied by extra crispy french fries; and a final nightcap and rich pecan pie at Kramers & Afterwords for dessert. Around 2:30 AM, I was smitten. Was this guy for real? An opener of car doors, put together, generous, accommodating, humorous, and close to his family. SO naturally all I could think was: when is this guy going to kiss me? 


HE DIDN'T. Three dates in, and I had zero idea whether we had the kiss chemistry or kiss collision. I was torn between wondering whether this guy had zero game or whether he wanted to be totally in control of the situation. 


What am I doing wrong here? The video below I think summarizes the whole situation rather nicely (minus the lobster.) 

Hooker, Hook-Up, or Heartbreak? Choose Your Own Adventure!

The scenario: An ex of approximately four months calls you up. You talk about work. You talk about weather. Then, all of a sudden, you ex is becoming charming. He wants to fly you out to the West Coast. Buy you dinner(s). Take you to Fisherman's Wharf. Send you flowers. Make it rain. Subtext: I am willing to ship you over 3,000 miles for the most expensive booty call of my life. 


If you accept, you are:


A. A Hooker, because you really want to visit the Golden Gate City on zero dollars. 
B. Hooking Up, like two mature, consensual adults. 
C. Accepting an all-expenses paid trip to Heartbreak. 


Choose your own adventure. 

Margarita Monday

Regrettably intoxicated blogging alert: it has been three days and no call. I think it is time to throw by wayside and continue adventure into unknown. Like I reiterate - eggs in different pies.


PS: Guapos is the best drunk food. Ask for the spicy green salsa. Lethal margaritasss.


Sarah (BFF) on call:  I think he likes u, but 1. he's too old to know the 2011 dating rules of engagement, or 2. he's kind of controlling in making every communication on his own terms, knowing that you're probably waiting so, i say u pick another proverbial fish out of the vast ocean that is ok cupid. 

Thanks Ssarah. 

The Playbook

The straightest gay man ever. I present to you Neil Patrick Harris/Barney Stinson. 

Throw a Girl a Bone!

Friday night I went on what I like to term a "traditional, Southern-style" second date with William. We're talking the works: getting picked up, valet parking, perfect dinner at Rasika, dessert at Coco Sala, ride home. Yes, ladies, this man considered this standard protocol. I restrained myself at multiple moments from singing Put A Ring On It. [PS: GOOD LORD, if you go to Rasika, PROMISE me that you will get the Palak Chaat. JUST PROMISE ME.]


[On an aside, I had a very interesting conversation with one of my co-workers last week. He told me that until the age of 29/30, women held all the dating cards in their hands; and upon turning 31, they ceded these cards to men for the duration of their lives. Myself began to protesteth, but then it hit me: I had three, maybe four years left if I was serious about becoming a Mrs. Someone. Right now, it felt as though the dating world was at my immaculately-painted fingernails, but would this dinner-paved, city-glow foray last forever? Friends tell me: no. Thus, I must adjust my radar. I must not turn dating into some frivolity, but rather a serious search for "the one."] 


William is the total package so far. While I also said this about Adam, I will inform you that I discovered his propensity to be manorexic, and I took a hatchet to that budding relationship pronto. Now, every person certainly has their flaws. I advise all of you to take out a sheet of paper and make two columns. Label one column "Flaws I Can Live With" and term the other column "Flaws that I Cannot Live With." This is a helpful exercise in coming to terms with reality. 


Which brings me back to William, who has kindly disclosed to me two of his relationship flaws. The first, is that he lacks the connection between feelings and vocalization of emotion (Ehh). Second-he operates very, very slowly. In the dating world, paint dries faster than William making a move. Neither of these seemed a dealbreaker in my eyes (right? I mean, unfounded arrogance or boring rank a lot higher on my list.) 


Back to my fancy Friday night. By the entree, I realized that William's personality was a counterweight to own, extroverted openness. The more he instituted patience and retracted from impulsive action, the more I felt like a CRAZY WOMAN begging for scraps. Example: around 11 P.M., things were proceeding without a hitch. Dinner was over. Dessert was over. Drinks had been drunk. I was staring into his dark, deep eyes, listening to him wax on about something that displayed his emotional depth. The female part of brain was thinking: this is the part in the movie where William kisses me. And the opportunity was presenting itself. In fact, it continued to presented itself almost four times (not that anyone is counting) at CoCo Sala, and again at the end of the night. It was getting ridiculous. I was crushing hardcore on this guy, and he seemed perfectly content to not lay a finger on me. And after a quick hug (WTF) and promise to call me, I was left with slight confusion and a feeling that I am not sure I have experienced in a long time: yearning. 


So friends, if William doesn't kiss me on the third date, is it over? Is this normal? Maybe he hates kissing? Unlikely. Does he want to kiss me? Maybe. Doesn't he want me to want him to kiss me? Okay. I know what you're saying. I'll take your advice and stop staring at my phone, waiting for him to call me. But I can't make any promises about the daydreaming. 

Ridiculously Romantic

Every once in a while, you listen to a song about "love," and you get ridiculously excited/happy/sad all at the same time about ... the prospect of future love. At work today, I nearly a shed a tear at 3:15 when the strings come in. It's okay folks, embrace the inner romantic. 

The 3-Day Rule Dies, Kicking and Screaming

I ask you women out there: when was the last time a guy actually called you? Out of the profusion of dates that I have been on in the last three years, I can count on one hand the number of men who have actually called to set-up a date (or follow-up for the second one). In our world of constant communication, texting/emailing/gchatting just seems easier for setting up the tedious logistics of where/when/how. In fact, I myself am guilty of the "over-texting" syndrome that occurs when you are first dating someone new- you mindlessly textflirt for days on end before you develop a case of carpel-tunnel in your fingers. 


Well, I have been thrown a curveball. I had a guy actually call me, set up a date, and 24 hour later has yet to text me. In past experiences, by the afternoon of the day after a first date, I receive a "Hey, I had a great time last night. Hope you're doing well" text message, and you confidently reply, now sure of the mutual attraction. This explains why right now, I am not anxious, but am awaiting his call in suspense. Will he call me tonight? Tomorrow night? Will he actually do the unthinkable: follow the three day rule, that specter of traditional, past dating? 


I haven't experienced the suspense after the first date in a long time- maybe this guy knows what he's doing. Go back in dating time to move her heart forward in ours. 

Diversify Your Portfolio

In this session, I hope to emphasize that diversity of dating is the only way to gain perspective on what you want. Although we all wish to jump off the dating treadmill and walk hand-in-hand with that one special person, I insist that you date three people at a time until you are monogamous with one (this is direct from Patti Stanger, who knows what she's talking about). 


Let's use anecdotal evidence.


You are dating someone. Things are going well. Then all of a sudden, you start questioning the mechanics/process/picky traits/etc. of said person. What would actually help this situation? What always helps us, boys and girls. Comparison. As human beings, we are not so enlightened as to know what is best for us (this is why we have people called friends who call us on our bull****). We are buoyed by the winds of chemistry, hormones, and millions of years of evolution. We need simplified models. Exhibit A or Exhibit B. Hot or Not. Iphone or Blackberry. Pizza or Pad Thai. Okay, you get my point. 


There is a caveat: we must curb our range of choices. Date too many exhibits, and our simple minds will become flustered and overwhelmed by choices. That is why three is the perfect number. Three allows both variety and a chance to actually have a conversation with the exhibit. Three also allows for elimination without annihilation. 


A variation of diversifying your portfolio is amping up your social life. DO NOT, and I am serious about this, DO NOT begin cancelling activities with friends, co-workers, and colleagues. Staying actively busy is one of the five pillars to an overall successful dating life. It allows you to continue to meet new people and achieve a sense of independence and liberation about your identity. When you fall off the face of the planet, you must humbly scratch your way back to your friends when your dopamine induced relationship hits the ****fan. 


Remember, diversifying your portfolio spreads the risk among various companies. And after time, you can (with some clarity) judge which stocks have a positive, upward trend. And that's when you can invest, baby, invest. 

Fight or Flight Instincts

After a wonderful crawfish pasta at The Cajun Experience, surrounded by friends and current flavor of the month Adam, I felt residual instincts surface for the first time. Fellow date-aficionados, you know this feeling. You finally meet someone and the world seems fresh, like the new car smell of a 2011 Aston Martin Virage Coupe. Everything is going well, all your friends like him, and every song relates to your dopamine-epinephrine-induced happiness.

And then, duh-duh-duh- something happens. You-FREAK-OUT. Really? Are you moving too fast? Are you sending the right signals? Wrong signals? Are you going to wake up tomorrow and find yourself in a relationship? Are you ready for a relationship? Didn't you tell yourself you would wait a significant amount of time until you got back into a serious relationship? Do you really want a relationship or are your hormones just screwy? Should you start dating around, spreading the risk? Suddenly, you start hunting for flaws--even small, tiny ones. Now you're in your head way too much and overthinking every single hang-out/dinner/experience, while simultaneously telling yourself to just "go with the flow" and "enjoy the moment." You tell yourself to take it slow, but it looks like you are indeed at a critical stage of the dating game, where in a few weeks, pivotal decisions will most likely have to be made.

And the question remains, while the exit sign is still lit, do you get the heck outta dodge?

Watch your Back

This has nothing to do with dating, but my friend threw her back out while putting on her underwear.

"Can I Be On Your Blog?"

In every woman's life, there is a moment where you think: would a guy ask me out if he saw me in zero make-up, sweatpants, and hair in a yogi-styled bun on the top of my head?


Well today I am proud to report to you that indeed, a man can and even does do such a thing.


The setting: Politics & Prose, a quaint bookstore located in NW DC, outfitted with a cozy cafe in its downstairs area. Recommended for a laid-back Sunday-date.


The players: My friend Eve from out of town and myself, chitchatting and catching up on life, love, metaphysics. It is important at this point in the story to remind you that I had literally rolled out of the couch and put on the cleanest thing off the bedroom floor. 


After an hour of discussion, Eve and I got up to leave. While she was using the bathroom, a kind, bearded fellow approaches me. 


-Hi- he said, a little breathy. 
-Um, hi. 
-So, I couldn't help but overhearing, that, well, you really like dating. You and your friend are really cool. (Still breathy.)
(At this point, you could cut the awkward tension with a whisk.)
-Well, I actually enjoy dispensing dating and restaurant advice through the lens of my own comedic experiences.
-Oh.
(A few seconds go by.)
-Well, can I be on your blog? 
-What? You mean follow it? Sure.
-No, well, I mean could we go on a date and then you blog about it?
(??????? goes my mind. I was caught between surprise that I was being asked out in a traditional way/respect that he approached me/flattery that I was being asked out in gray sweatpants/then uber-weirdness about someone wanting to be blogged about.)
-Well, I replied hastily, I'm actually seeing someone right now. (Boys and girls, this is the best line to bestow when rejecting a human being. It doesn't matter whether it's true. It doesn't matter whether it's false. It is a line of beauty.)
-Oh...that's too bad, he said. 


(At this moment, Eve emerges from the bathroom.)


Turning slightly, he looks at her.


-So what about your friend?