Today, December 7th, marks the one-year anniversary of my first date with Melissa.
I wish I could say that I knew from our very first date that this was going to be something special. That the moment I saw her, I was smitten. That our first date was the most amazing date I’d ever been on, full of spontaneous fun and spark-filled exhilaration.
I wish I could say all that. But I’d be lying.
Our first date went well, but honestly, it wasn’t anything spectacular. I certainly can’t say that it stood out above every other first date I’ve been on. Even the circumstances of our meeting weren’t very fairy tale-like. Keep reading »
Is it a date or an interview for a lifetime together? Here are six ways to tell. Keep reading »
The third date was perfect. You laughed, you flirted, your hands grazed as you both reached for the cheesiest nacho.
Eight days later — nothing. They haven’t called or answered your text(s). You’ve been checking their Facebook profile so sadly you’re sure they were not a victim of a tragic accident en route to dropping off flowers or serenading you outside of your window with an iPod dock and the latest episode of This American Life. Keep reading »
At the age of 33, I went on my first date.
I met the Brazilian at a nightclub a month before I was set to leave New York City indefinitely. The fact that he danced well and wore a scarf while doing so gave him away instantly as a foreigner.
After grinding together to techno music until four in the morning, we grabbed a cab back to his apartment in Queens and swung by my place on our way. I wasn’t sure what I might need, so I packed a toothbrush, a water bottle, my cell phone charger, an Edward Abbey book in case I couldn’t sleep, a headlamp to read it by, and some trail mix. I hadn’t ever slept over at a guy’s place in New York City before, so I wanted to be prepared. Keep reading »
Butterflies in your stomach are the best part of a first date, but sometimes those butterflies morph into Mothra-sized paranoia. Take me last night, for instance. My head was intellectually telling me I looked totally baller and what guy wouldn’t want to go out on a date with me? My nervous energy was telling me, “You are going to spill your drink in your lap. Because you are a klutz. And then will die alone and be eaten by cats.”
Sound farfetched? Last week I sprayed perfume in my eye. Yesterday, I somehow spilled waffles and whipped cream on my laptop. (Don’t ask.) These things happen to me. Last night, the running commentary in my head was Don’t be a klutz, don’t be a klutz, don’t be a klutz … and a litany of other things. Here are other silly things girls worry about on a first date…
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A few months ago I was flipping out to one of my guy friends about my love life, as I often do. (Sorry, guys.) I had gone on a second date to eat a home-cooked meal at a gentleman’s apartment and ended up spending the night. We didn’t have sex, but we did in lots of other activities that aren’t your typical second date material. Of course, come Monday morning, I started freaking out that this gentleman caller would lose interest in me because we’d done too much too soon. So I instant messaged my friend D., who is also single, and asked what he thought.
“What time did all this happen?” He IMed back.
“I don’t know,” I wrote. “I came over for dinner at eight, we ate dinner and dessert, then we talked on the couch for a long time and he gave me a footrub. After midnight?”
“Oh, that’s fine, then,” D. wrote back. “When a date goes into the wee hours of the morning, it really becomes another date. And hooking up on a third date is pretty standard.”
Oooooh, I thought to myself. That makes sense! Let’s call this “the principle of elongated dating.” Keep reading »
Awful first dates (and second dates … and third dates …) are The Frisky’s bread and butter. But every so often the goddesses smile upon us and we’re blessed with a first date to call your mom about instead of your therapist.
Not to brag or anything, but I had a kickass first date this weekend. We went to the Bronx Zoo together and he didn’t run for the hills when I tried to climb into the red panda cage and give it a hug. Then he asked if I wanted to get dinner, so we took the subway all the way downtown to my favorite Venezuelan restaurant. We got some Starbucks, sat in a park talking, and finally saw a movie together before heading our separate ways. I didn’t want it to end!
OK, now I’m just bragging. But my point is that I had the best time. And because I had a two-hour train ride home at the end of the night, I had a lot of time to think about just what it is that makes a great first date. Keep reading »
When I was seven years old, my parents took me to see “Rocky.” Inappropriate? Maybe. But I was a skinny asthmatic kid in a house full of smokers and this “underdog triumphs over adversity” story spoke to me in a way that nothing else ever had. Whenever the going got tough and things seemed impossible, I invoked the Italian Stallion to get me through.
My first date was when I was a senior in high school. Late bloomer. Keep reading »