The Frisky HQ is under construction for the next couple of days so I was planning on working from home. Then yesterday, my internet crapped out and I found myself running to the local coffee shop in my pajamas. Six hours later, I was still sitting in my pajamas. It was an interesting day. There was a blind date that I eavesdropped on for a while. I thought that would be the subject of this week’s Dating Don’ts. Then the Boston Marathon bombing happened and the mood turned dark. I sat in silence for a while, watching CNN. My roommate was next to me, because she had the day off of work to study for a grad school exam. She eventually interrupted the silence to confess that she’s been watching that new show “Ready For Love.” Someone needed to cut the tension.
I laughed. But she was like, “Don’t laugh! They had this whole bit about how you should never say the word ‘fart’ on a date. It was interesting.” Then we got into an in-depth discussion about bodily functions and dating. Because these are the things that people sometimes talk about when terrible things happen in the world. Keep reading »
I keep blinking my eyes. Splashing cold water on my face. Waiting to wake up from the cinematic dream sequence which has been my life for the last three weeks. It all started when I ran into an old friend from college on the subway and the next thing I knew, my love life went from black and white to technicolor in a poof, like when Dorothy landed over the rainbow. So. Yeah. Hi! Greetings from over the rainbow. Colors are brighter here. Food tastes better. Dogs and babies and munchkins all have secret messages just for you. Time is measured in hand holds and kisses and the breeze decides which direction you walk.
I’m trying desperately to make sense of it all. But I fear I have become one of those people: the love-crazed fool who you want to punch in her stupid, shmoopy face. Even in my state of euphoria, I recognize that my type can be terribly annoying. Should you ever find yourself over the rainbow, A) Enjoy it! and B) Try to keep it together so the rest of the world doesn’t want to murder you. Here are some thoughts about how to do that… Keep reading »
One day, you’ll be leaving work, your limbs heavy with dating fatigue. You’ll trudge to the subway with a sourness in your soul. I’m done with dating, you’ll whisper into to the dank subway air. That’s it. I will live underground in the subway tunnels like those mole people and never have to sit through another awkward round of drinks again. You’ll be so wrapped up in your self-pitying reverie that you’ll miss the train. You’ll, swear, gnaw on your cheek, hating yourself for thinking like this and wait for the next one.
Moments later, you’ll notice a man on the platform standing next to you and feel drawn to him like a super-duty magnet. He’ll pull you with great gravitational force onto the same subway car as him and you’ll sit across from him. He’ll pull out the NY Post. And you’ll think No one reads the paper anymore. But this guy does. He’s the last paper reader alive.
You’ll study his face, this paper reading unicorn, taking it in, trying to make sense of it. He has kind eyes. His mouth is fixed in a perma-smirk. When his smirk spreads to a smile, you’ll realize you recognize that smile. You know him!? This realization will untether you. This is someone you know?! But how? From where? Keep reading »
I was having dinner with a friend the other night and I was in the middle of a rant about dating fatigue when our waitress, a beautiful and statuesque 20-something women, strode over to our table and said, “I hear you. It just never ends.”
We all nodded at each other, wordlessly, exchanging sympathetic I feel your pain looks.
Dating is so complicated it’s a wonder that people continue to do it. Navigating through all the awkwardness and nuances of romantic, human interactions requires a compass, or at the very least, a forum to vent.This is why our Dating Don’ts column is important. We could probably write dating how-not-to’s for another ten and never run out of topics to discuss. For The Frisky’s 5th birthday, I’ve rounded up some of the best dating tips we’ve given. It never hurts to brush up. Share your favorite Dating Don’ts moments in the comments or suggest some topics you’d like to see covered. And keep on keeping on, daters. We’re here for you. Keep reading »
I had all sorts of hope when I decided to start dating again after a long hiatus. For the first week, all the online profiles seemed shiny and new, like clickable Christmas presents. I was excited to check my email and see what gifts were waiting under my tree, so to speak.
“You have great style!” “I like Rilke too.” “What kind of writing do you do?” “Want to grab some wine?”
YES! YES! YES! Unwrapping feverishly. Options galore. Hark! The herald angels sing!
Two weeks have passed and I’m like a sulking child, facing the reality that Christmas is fleeting. All discarded tinsel and bows and presents that are no longer new. I’m left to grapple with more disturbing questions like: Why can’t I find it within myself to be attracted to short men? WHY?
I’m talking about when dating fatigue sets. When you’ve binged on dating to the point of nausea. Every profile tastes the same to you. Steaming heaps of pictures of him traveling through India. At a friend’s wedding. His love of Michael Chabon. The Macbook pro he can’t live without. The kind of whiskey he likes to drink. You can’t keep stats straight anymore. Who’s looking for an intelligent woman with a wicked sense of humor and who’s looking for a partner in crime again? You don’t remember. You just show up at the wine bar and figure out who he is once you get there. Keep reading »
Forget Instagram! Vine is the new social media hot spot. Six second videos from all your best digital friends? Sign me up. As long as they’re interesting, that is. As a general rule of thumb in social media, no one wants to see mundane posts about your Friday night viewing of “Bridesmaids” or a rundown of what you had for breakfast. And that’s no different with Vine—in fact, there’s even more to consider when sharing live-action shots. In Vine’s short life, I’ve already seen all types of overshares—from a fork-to-mouth video to a toothbrushing/flossing supercut. If you want to come off cool and savvy – and don’t want to scare away potential love interests, you who you might be interested in dating, shy away from these Vine faux-pas … Keep reading »
This weekend while I was visiting my parents, my mom asked me: “Are you over the last one yet?” I rolled my eyes without answering, because that’s how I do. But I appreciated how she didn’t use his name. Like he was some shadow that slipped into my life and vanished when the sun came out. Well played, mom. But considering her question … YES, I am over the last one! Dating hiatus over. Resuming online dating. Yee haw! (Maybe I’m playing up my enthusiasm just a tad in the name of optimism.)
Within hours of reactivating my profile, my Yee haw was more like Yeek. I had almost forgotten. So many men making so many mistakes. Do they not know or do they not care? Embracing the spirit of optimism, I’m going to assume they don’t know. God, I hope they don’t know, otherwise, I’m frightened for myself. Below, another installment of mistakes to avoid online, guys, provided you actually want to score dates. Keep reading »
It’s come to my attention that we need to talk about commitment and what it means. When my ex and I broke up, one of his main concerns was commitment. Namely, he didn’t want to make one because he was too afraid to break it. He felt like he would be “holding me back” or “making promises he had no idea if he could keep.” The kind of commitment I was envisioning was the commitment to continue to get to know each other and see where things went, not the commitment to get married and start making babies. I never even mentioned that, but in his head, I that’s what I was asking for. He was divorced, so I understand that this notion of commitment took on a certain complexity for him.But here’s the thing: what he was saying was hardly original. I’ve heard a variation on this theme from so many men I’ve dated. Divorced or not. In talking to my friends, I understand that I am not alone. Most women — and some men — I know have heard it too. Keep reading »
When I was in middle school, my school sold these things called Candy Grams the week leading up to Valentine’s Day. For a dollar, a lollipop and a note would be delivered to the person of your choosing on February 14th. I was in luuurrrvvvve with this boy Jesse. He looked like a young Leonardo DiCaprio and his family owned an amusement park and because we did alphabetical seating, he sat behind me in every class. We kind of became friends, meaning he copied all my homework and cheated off of me on tests. Friendship! The only thing I wanted in the whole world was a Candy Gram from Jesse. A thank you for helping him pass 7th grade perhaps? An admission of his love for me? I stayed up every night that week imagining what my Candy Gram from him would say. February 14th came and went. No Candy Gram from Jesse. I got in the car at the end of the day and started to cry. My Grandpa picked me up from school every day. I was sulky and hormonal in that special 13-year-old kind of way and he would try to get me to laugh by pretending like I was on trial and he was presenting my case. I don’t know why exactly, but he was really into this game.
“Ladies and gentleman of the jury…” he would start. I would stare out the window with my arms crossed or roll my eyes. So, on Valentine’s Day, I got in the car and he started. “Ladies and gentleman of the jury, today we are here to determine why this beautiful young lady is crying…” Keep reading »
They say no good deed goes unpunished, and I agree. I’ve seen plenty of evidence in my own life: For example, one time, I baked a pie for my then-boyfriend, and his two best friends. They were coming over to watch the Oscars, and I said, “Oh, great! I’ll make a pie.”
“Great!” he said.
My then-boyfriend and his friends planned a boys’ afternoon out. They’d have their afternoon out, then pick up food for dinner. Tacos? Pizza? Chinese? We decided on pizza. We’d all reconvene later at my place for pizza, pie, and Oscars.
But then they arrived, all three of them, having picked up individual pizzas for themselves, and having forgotten to get one for me. This may – may – have been forgivable, if they’d made an appropriate apology, and offered to run out in that moment to pick me something up. But no. The boyfriend’s friends shrugged and said, “Oh, crap. Sorry.” When they finished their pizzas – each man offered me a sliver of their own – they left all the garbage of their takeout food strewn across the kitchen table. It sat there even as they waved goodbye, and escorted themselves out. I turned to my boyfriend, desperate for some acknowledgement of how absurd his friends’ behavior had been. He just shrugged, though, like boys will be boys, and turned back toward the TV. Keep reading »