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 »
Oh, there are just rules for everything, huh? Floss after every meal! Don’t wear white after Labor Day! If you’re going to pick your nose, do it in private! As Mischa Barton knows, rules are meant to be broken and there’s no bigger one to break, in my book, than that whole “don’t bone a dude on the first date” rule. Sure, there are plenty of decent reasons to resist doing the horizontal mambo right away, but there are just as many to justify dropping your drawers and getting it on tout de suite! Here are five. Keep reading »