Last week, I went on my first date with Jack, the young publicist I met through work. And after I tell you all what occurred on that date, I’m confident you will understand why my first date with Jack was also our last.
After taking the initiative to ask Jack out, I figured I’d let him take the reins and plan our first date. We agreed to get together after work and didn’t have a game plan, so we decided to just play it by ear. He met me by the steps of the New York City Public Library and was as cute as I remembered, but slightly younger looking (which was probably just my subconscious reminding me that I was a cradle robber). He suggested we go grab some coffee and then maybe a bite to eat afterwards, depending on how we felt. On our walk to get caffeinated, he said, “I’m glad you asked me out. I like seeing a proactive woman who isn’t afraid to make the first move.” We were off to a great start. Keep reading »
Nobody handles The Talk very well. Usually, it’s a stilted affair, capable of rendering even the most confidently grown to their pre-teen self, stuttering and drawing circles in the condensation left by their wineglass, assiduously avoiding eye contact. Defining the relationship, or DTR, if you’re of the ilk that favors cutesy acronyms, is a necessary evil, but something that not a single soul is very good at. The nature of modern dating is such that the traditional markers of what make a relationship real change every day and it can seem like there’s a decided lack of stability. It’s not as easy as getting someone’s letterman jacket and walking down Main Street to the soda fountain anymore. The way we date now easily lends itself to shirking real commitment. First dates in the traditional sense are replaced by weird group outings in which you attempt to get to know someone you made goopy eyes with at a bar while surrounded by a buffer three people deep, including his friends from college and that dude at work, Josh. It’s a honest miracle that anyone even makes it to The Talk, because the obstacle course that stands between you and a relationship is harrowing.
The fun doesn’t end once you’ve actually sat down and faced the person of your intent, with all your emotions out on the table. The kind of relationship you can neatly explain to your mom in a hastily composed text message is a thing of the past. It makes sense that the end result of a nebulous and frankly, confusing wooing process, is also difficult to pin down. With that in mind, here are some possible results of the dreaded Talk. Keep reading »
Like everybody else in America, I decided to jump on the World Cup bandwagon last week and headed to a bar after work to catch a game with friends. When one of my girlfriends showed up with a few of her co-workers, I noticed that I’d caught the eye of one of her colleagues. Well over six feet tall, he was muscular, well-dressed and had a nice smile, but I wouldn’t say I was necessarily attracted to him. After very obviously staring at me and not at the TV for the next 30 minutes, Ken headed my way and started making small talk. He seemed funny, nice and attentive, so when he gave me his number at the end of the game, I intended on shooting him a text the next day, and maybe even going out on a date with him if things continued to go well. Spoiler: they did not. Keep reading »
I got into an debate with my friend the other day about a topic that I never thought I’d have to discuss — photoshopping your online dating profile picture. She’s a recent adopter of OKCupid, and is what I would consider a power user, actively pursuing suitors, sending messages and going on countless dates, that swing wildly between enthralling and depressing.
“You know,” she told me one day over Gchat, “I Photoshop my profile picture.” She seemed unfazed by this admission, and took my shock and awe in stride.
“Isn’t that … dishonest? Isn’t that defeating the point?!” I asked.
“Eh … not really,” she wrote back. “Isn’t everybody lying, anyway?” Keep reading »
I was sitting with a couple of smart women that I respect when the subject of dating came up, as it tends to do. “I read The Rules, and it changed my life,” one friend told me, in complete earnestness. “I swear by The Rules. They really work.”
I was taken aback, and for good reason. I’m a generation behind The Rules’ target demo. Twenty years ago, when this book was first published, I was in middle school, when “dating” meant writing about someone in your dream journal and holding hands. As my dating life developed, any mention of The Rules felt laughable, like an ancient relic from a never-seen “Sex And The City” episode, something the girls would discuss over cosmos at Buddakan.
“Aren’t they old-fashioned and sexist, and you know, stupid?” I asked. My other friend interjected. “Seriously, they’re great,” she said. “Trust me.” Keep reading »