After a long hiatus, you probably thought Cupid's arrow had found its mark ... but rest assured, dear men and women of OkStupid (and empathetic friends), I remain entirely single. A long trip abroad this summer, a truly hectic work schedule, and a vibrant social life have meant little dating for me - let alone of the online kind. However, a recent bout of unrequited love let me know it was time to make an effort again. I went on my first OkC date in MONTHS a few nights ago. How did it go??
Honestly ... not as badly as I'm building it up to sound :) He was nice (if nerdy), intelligent (if predictable), handsome (if not my type) ... nothing you could really stick a pin in as far as a clear, easily articulated "this is why I don't want a second date" reasoning.
No, wait. I think perhaps I CAN articulate it:
I didn't want to have sex with him.
There, that wasn't so difficult.
Now, this is coming from someone who is so hard up she read the entire Fifty Shades of Grey series in a single day. It has been literally months (with the exception of a memorable third-base extravaganza some time back) ... to the point where I'm beginning to think I should quit while I'm ahead and join a nunnery. God gives extra credit for pre-monastic celibacy ... right??
So, with all this in mind, you'd think I'd jump on the first warm and willing gentleman I could. Sadly, I don't go in for casual encounters and even less so with an Okstupidman like this one. Things seemed ideal - we picked a restaurant with cuisine I love; we were both there on time; I was in a good mood since I'd just come from a live music show and I had another one lined up for later that night; he was friendly and talkative .... despite all this, I was already pulling my hair out from boredom forty-seven minutes into the date. However, we had a two-hour window from which I had no way to extricate myself gracefully. I barely managed to sidestep the questions which were obviously angling towards finding out exactly where I was heading after our date was over.
We stayed in the shallow end of the get-to-know-you pool (which was fine with me) and, to my surprise, I found myself honestly laughing here and there; I was relieved and said to myself - perhaps we can be friends, at least. And even if there's nothing romantic here now, perhaps there could be, in some crazy post-apocalyptic future.
Then the check came.
Men of OkStupid - I am by NO means advocating that you should foot the bill for every single date you go on, especially for what are essentially blind dates facilitated by a website ... I see it as two people just agreeing to be in the same place for a while, where each party takes care of his or her own obligations, just as if they had come solo.
That said ... is it nice when a guy picks up the check? Absolutely. But since I can't articulate any valid reasons why, let's skip to splitting the bill.
If this is not already obvious ... do NOT attempt an exact, to-the-cent, reckoning of what's owed. If you are breaking out your calculator (how quaint) or your phone in order to do this, you are going to freak out your date. She's going to think one of the following:
a) you're a penny-pinching jerk
b) you have serious OCD issues
c) you can't do basic math (this may not seem like a big deal, but an inability to carry out simple addition and subtraction operations mentally has serious implications for how much focus and multi-tasking she thinks you'll be able to demonstrate in bed).
Now, my date did not take out a calculator ... though I sort of wish he had. I was in the restroom when the check came; I opened it when I got back and he immediately said, "this is obviously NOT a fifty-fifty thing, considering my margaritas." A quick look revealed that, yes, his alcohol bill was significantly higher. He said, "but if you put in such-and-such-an-amount, that should be about right" ... now, I didn't want to call him out, but I was pretty sure, from the glance I'd taken, that he was wrong ... still, I thought maybe I neglected to look at the tax or some such thing. So I waited.
Cards were run and returned ... and I found that I paid just two dollars short of half - while his alcohol bill was over three times as much as mine. Um ... what?
In absolute terms, it wasn't very much money. My bank isn't broken because of it. But that's not the point. If I had actually liked him, my HEART might have broken a little. When it comes to splitting the bill, men of OkStupid ... JUST ROUND UP.
Now, might it have been an careless mistake on his part? Sure. But if you ask a girl to pay $23 towards a $50 bill RIGHT AFTER you get done saying that you owe quite a bit more ... something, both literally and metaphorically, doesn't add up. Did you not hear yourself, just now? Do you honestly forget things twenty seconds after you say them? Are you making me pay more than my share as retaliation for not inviting you to the show I am literally squirming to flee to? All this, from someone who works in finance.
So, if you're not an outright jerk who WANTS to trick the girl into paying more, I sincerely recommend that you round UP. (Obviously the conversation could go a different way and she could be the one doing all the calculations - in which case, you're free to go along with it or not). But if you've taken charge, and you doubt your math skills, it's safer to pay a few extra dollars than to screw it up in your favor and look like a freeloader or an idiot - or both.
Sunday, December 2, 2012
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
Turtles have feelings, too
I'm old enough to be able to count the number of times I've fallen in love on more than one hand. I'm also old enough to know, in hindsight, when what I thought was love was really just lust ... and to know better than to make that mistake now.
I'm old enough to know myself, and what I need in a partner. When you meet your partner young, as two as-yet-formed individuals, you can often grow and learn together, twisting around each other like vines, learning to fit over time.
But for me - there'll be no blundering, figure-it-out-as-we-go, not now. I'm fully myself, and I need a partner who yins when I yang, who pushes where I yield, who can be the other half to the jagged edges and smooth curves of me. There might yet be a few small gaps, but they should be the kind you can fill in with an apology and a backrub.
I recently attended the wedding of my much-younger stepsister (25 to my thirty-something),whom we'll call Betty; I was a bridesmaid, along with my biological sister, who is two years younger than me, and several of my stepsister's friends. Our dresses were the wrong color, the wrinkles stubbornly refusing to steam away, and the sun beat down upon us all in our synthetic-fabricked glory ... but Betty was stunning and the ceremony went off beautifully.
My sister's husband carried the ringbearer, their not-quite-one-year-old-son, down the aisle, showing off the ribbon tied around his tiny wrist, the rings dangling safely, to the delight of all the witnesses. There were first dances, and toasts, and many hugs and tears - all as it should be.
For all of two days, over the course of the rehearsal dinner, ceremony, and reception, I managed to avoid any "adult" scrutiny about my love life. My stepmother (now divorced from my father, it bears mentioning; we'll call her Penny) is a very energetic and opinionated individual - far too often, to a fault. I was quite sure she'd have something to say about me being the "last" of the three daughters to get married. But she'd been so quiet on the subject, I thought that maybe, this once, she had determined to be discreet and let the weekend be solely about Betty and her new husband.
Alas, I was wrong. The day after the wedding, a reception "brunch" was held at the home of a family friend. Copious amounts of both food and booze were served. In some cases, both together - fondue spiked with vodka and champagne?? Yes, please!
But after we had all eaten (though certainly not drunk) our fill, we ("we" consisting of nearly the entire wedding party, some of their respective spouses/partners, several parental figures, and extended family) gathered around the new couple in the backyard to watch them open their wedding presents. A gift from Penny to her daughter was wrapped in white fabric; as she opened it, Betty commented "well, Mom, this is interesting wrapping paper." My stepmom replied, "yes, it's extra fabric from the runner I had to buy to lay down the aisle for the ceremony. They make you buy yards and yards of it, so I have to find ways to use it up."
Penny then turned to me - innocently sipping away at my red vodka slushee (which tasted oddly - and happily - like a gummy worm) - and declared, "OkCynic, hurry up already!! Settle down with somebody!! Then I can use the rest of it for your wedding." I shrugged, said, "okay, sure, I'll get right on that" and proceeded to drain my drink - which, as everyone knows, is the first step towards getting hitched.
Now, I knew almost no one at this fete, being mostly members of the groom's party, so I cared little what they thought. The point was ... what a careless joke. It wasn't at all funny - no one laughed. And whether meant as a joke, a pointed dig, or a combination of both, it was absolutely tasteless and showed no care or respect for my feelings. And even though I knew it was coming - at some point in the weekend, I knew she'd have SOMETHING to say - I never dreamed it would be so public or with such a weak lead-in. Seriously? You're going to jab at my love life over a bolt of fabric??
Normally my blog posts are lessons for the single of us out there, trying to get past the awkwardness and impersonality of online dating and first encounters, to show the best of who we truly are and see if there's zig to our zag somewhere in Cupid's quiver.
Today's lesson, however, is for those well-meaning individuals among you who are NOT single, or who tend to tell their grown children what to do, or who think for a second that they know what's best for their friends, whether those friends are gamely plodding through the world of online dating or not.
Hurry up?? Oh yes, thanks for saying something. I hadn't realized it was time to hurry up.
Now then, just whom do you think I should be hurrying toward? Or hurrying along with? The second-best first date of my life, who was can't-sleep-crazy about me until he realized I was moving a whole two hours away and then bailed? Should I have given up on the out-of-town dream job for the sake of hurrying?
Or maybe you mean the one who sweetly pursued me for nearly half a year, all the while spouting the most hateful political garbage while living off his parents' generosity? Is it okay to hurry if the man is essentially an asshole, as long as he's nice to you and has a wealthy family?
Perhaps I should have hurried with the one I thought might be "the one," the best first date of my life, who dated me exclusively for five months yet never introduced me to a single one of his friends. Because hiding your romantic relationship away from your platonic relationships is a sign of emotional health and hurry-worthiness? You tell me.
Oh, I see now - I should have hurried with the one who is an up-and-coming store manager at a major retail chain ... who by the end of our second date was already letting me walk all over him. Cause a guy you can keep in his place with your pinky finger is definitely someone you want to hurry toward?
Wait, I've got it - I just had my third date with a real catch, a tall, handsome lawyer with a good work ethic and witty conversational skills. After three dates, several affectionate touchy-feely moves on his part, and a few dry kisses, I feel like the man is my brother. So you're saying I should hurry towards someone who leaves me sexually cold? Is incest how I win the coveted white fabric runner?
Fuck hurrying.
Telling someone to "hurry" shows only little understanding of love and commitment. I will not be hurried by expectation to partner up with anyone who doesn't link with me, in all the ways a partner should. Contrary to Pennyish belief - I'm too old to "settle" for the sake of "settling down"! I've lived true love and anything else is rubbish.
So, if you have someone in your life who is still figuring all this out, don't you dare tell them to "hurry," or that "the clock's ticking" or any of a dozen other useless admonishments. If you love the person, truly love them and want their happiness, you'll tell them to "wait."
Wait for the one whom you'd love and admire even if she weren't your partner. Wait for the one who is so proud to be with you he's bursting. Wait for the one who respects herself enough to tell you when you're full of it. Wait for the one who knows who he is and what he wants in life. Wait for the one who is so eager to sleep with you she can't possibly "wait" ... and neither can you.
Now, that's good advice. If you can't give it, keep your well-meaning mouth shut. We slowpokes will figure it out, promise.
I'm old enough to know myself, and what I need in a partner. When you meet your partner young, as two as-yet-formed individuals, you can often grow and learn together, twisting around each other like vines, learning to fit over time.
But for me - there'll be no blundering, figure-it-out-as-we-go, not now. I'm fully myself, and I need a partner who yins when I yang, who pushes where I yield, who can be the other half to the jagged edges and smooth curves of me. There might yet be a few small gaps, but they should be the kind you can fill in with an apology and a backrub.
I recently attended the wedding of my much-younger stepsister (25 to my thirty-something),whom we'll call Betty; I was a bridesmaid, along with my biological sister, who is two years younger than me, and several of my stepsister's friends. Our dresses were the wrong color, the wrinkles stubbornly refusing to steam away, and the sun beat down upon us all in our synthetic-fabricked glory ... but Betty was stunning and the ceremony went off beautifully.
My sister's husband carried the ringbearer, their not-quite-one-year-old-son, down the aisle, showing off the ribbon tied around his tiny wrist, the rings dangling safely, to the delight of all the witnesses. There were first dances, and toasts, and many hugs and tears - all as it should be.
For all of two days, over the course of the rehearsal dinner, ceremony, and reception, I managed to avoid any "adult" scrutiny about my love life. My stepmother (now divorced from my father, it bears mentioning; we'll call her Penny) is a very energetic and opinionated individual - far too often, to a fault. I was quite sure she'd have something to say about me being the "last" of the three daughters to get married. But she'd been so quiet on the subject, I thought that maybe, this once, she had determined to be discreet and let the weekend be solely about Betty and her new husband.
Alas, I was wrong. The day after the wedding, a reception "brunch" was held at the home of a family friend. Copious amounts of both food and booze were served. In some cases, both together - fondue spiked with vodka and champagne?? Yes, please!
But after we had all eaten (though certainly not drunk) our fill, we ("we" consisting of nearly the entire wedding party, some of their respective spouses/partners, several parental figures, and extended family) gathered around the new couple in the backyard to watch them open their wedding presents. A gift from Penny to her daughter was wrapped in white fabric; as she opened it, Betty commented "well, Mom, this is interesting wrapping paper." My stepmom replied, "yes, it's extra fabric from the runner I had to buy to lay down the aisle for the ceremony. They make you buy yards and yards of it, so I have to find ways to use it up."
Penny then turned to me - innocently sipping away at my red vodka slushee (which tasted oddly - and happily - like a gummy worm) - and declared, "OkCynic, hurry up already!! Settle down with somebody!! Then I can use the rest of it for your wedding." I shrugged, said, "okay, sure, I'll get right on that" and proceeded to drain my drink - which, as everyone knows, is the first step towards getting hitched.
Now, I knew almost no one at this fete, being mostly members of the groom's party, so I cared little what they thought. The point was ... what a careless joke. It wasn't at all funny - no one laughed. And whether meant as a joke, a pointed dig, or a combination of both, it was absolutely tasteless and showed no care or respect for my feelings. And even though I knew it was coming - at some point in the weekend, I knew she'd have SOMETHING to say - I never dreamed it would be so public or with such a weak lead-in. Seriously? You're going to jab at my love life over a bolt of fabric??
Normally my blog posts are lessons for the single of us out there, trying to get past the awkwardness and impersonality of online dating and first encounters, to show the best of who we truly are and see if there's zig to our zag somewhere in Cupid's quiver.
Today's lesson, however, is for those well-meaning individuals among you who are NOT single, or who tend to tell their grown children what to do, or who think for a second that they know what's best for their friends, whether those friends are gamely plodding through the world of online dating or not.
Hurry up?? Oh yes, thanks for saying something. I hadn't realized it was time to hurry up.
Now then, just whom do you think I should be hurrying toward? Or hurrying along with? The second-best first date of my life, who was can't-sleep-crazy about me until he realized I was moving a whole two hours away and then bailed? Should I have given up on the out-of-town dream job for the sake of hurrying?
Or maybe you mean the one who sweetly pursued me for nearly half a year, all the while spouting the most hateful political garbage while living off his parents' generosity? Is it okay to hurry if the man is essentially an asshole, as long as he's nice to you and has a wealthy family?
Perhaps I should have hurried with the one I thought might be "the one," the best first date of my life, who dated me exclusively for five months yet never introduced me to a single one of his friends. Because hiding your romantic relationship away from your platonic relationships is a sign of emotional health and hurry-worthiness? You tell me.
Oh, I see now - I should have hurried with the one who is an up-and-coming store manager at a major retail chain ... who by the end of our second date was already letting me walk all over him. Cause a guy you can keep in his place with your pinky finger is definitely someone you want to hurry toward?
Wait, I've got it - I just had my third date with a real catch, a tall, handsome lawyer with a good work ethic and witty conversational skills. After three dates, several affectionate touchy-feely moves on his part, and a few dry kisses, I feel like the man is my brother. So you're saying I should hurry towards someone who leaves me sexually cold? Is incest how I win the coveted white fabric runner?
Fuck hurrying.
Telling someone to "hurry" shows only little understanding of love and commitment. I will not be hurried by expectation to partner up with anyone who doesn't link with me, in all the ways a partner should. Contrary to Pennyish belief - I'm too old to "settle" for the sake of "settling down"! I've lived true love and anything else is rubbish.
So, if you have someone in your life who is still figuring all this out, don't you dare tell them to "hurry," or that "the clock's ticking" or any of a dozen other useless admonishments. If you love the person, truly love them and want their happiness, you'll tell them to "wait."
Wait for the one whom you'd love and admire even if she weren't your partner. Wait for the one who is so proud to be with you he's bursting. Wait for the one who respects herself enough to tell you when you're full of it. Wait for the one who knows who he is and what he wants in life. Wait for the one who is so eager to sleep with you she can't possibly "wait" ... and neither can you.
Now, that's good advice. If you can't give it, keep your well-meaning mouth shut. We slowpokes will figure it out, promise.
Thursday, May 10, 2012
Persistence is futile
I don't use my profile on PlentyO'Freaks anymore, since that site is crammed full of strange guys who send horrifyingly insulting messages. Unfortunately, POF deletes your messages after a period of time so all the gems I was saving up to share with you ... are less than electronic dust, now. It's just as well.
Another reason I don't use POF is because of its lack of filters - more on that another time. But my profile does say how to find me on OkC, where I can happily pre-screen suitors based on their percentage matches. What this has meant, at times, is being persistently pursued on BOTH sites.
Sometimes I wonder if these guys are so intent on sending as many messages as possible, that they don't even realize that they've doubled up on the same girl. That was an unintended pun, but at the same time - you DO start to feel violated after someone repeatedly, insistently, messages you and visits your profile on not one, but TWO sites. I've had the same person contact me at least half a dozen times in total, maybe more. It's weird and unsettling.
We've discussed being creepily insistent in earlier posts, but this time I want to emphasize the need to KEEP TRACK. If you're juggling multiple profiles - as I imagine many of you are - watch out for bombarding the same girl with messages. When you do so, even accidentally, all she sees is 1) this guy is a stalker who can't catch a clue, or 2) this guy just sees a hot girl and messages her automatically. You come off as creepy, desperate, or both - not a good combination.
Related to this ... visiting a girl's profile over and over again in the hopes of sparking some interest or communication. While I have seen several men commit this mistake, there is one in particular who visits me at least once every three weeks - but has never even sent me a note. This is a type of persistence which is almost worse than the kind where you message, message, message until you're blue in the ... fingertips.
STOP DRY-HUMPING MY PROFILE!! Seriously, either get your shit together and send me a message, or fade away once and for all. I visited this one's profile a long time ago and decided I wasn't interested, at least not enough to be the first to send a message. If he'd at least ACTED, he'd have known where he stood. But he's given me the chance to see that either he's too shy to go after something he obviously wants, or that he's too forgetful to remember he's visited me at least ten times already. Either way, I'm even less interested than I was before.
Today's lesson, OkStupidman - if you're interested, message her. ONCE. If you've messaged her, REMEMBER. And if she's not responding, MOVE ON. There are plenty of fish in the quiver ... or something like that :)
Another reason I don't use POF is because of its lack of filters - more on that another time. But my profile does say how to find me on OkC, where I can happily pre-screen suitors based on their percentage matches. What this has meant, at times, is being persistently pursued on BOTH sites.
Sometimes I wonder if these guys are so intent on sending as many messages as possible, that they don't even realize that they've doubled up on the same girl. That was an unintended pun, but at the same time - you DO start to feel violated after someone repeatedly, insistently, messages you and visits your profile on not one, but TWO sites. I've had the same person contact me at least half a dozen times in total, maybe more. It's weird and unsettling.
We've discussed being creepily insistent in earlier posts, but this time I want to emphasize the need to KEEP TRACK. If you're juggling multiple profiles - as I imagine many of you are - watch out for bombarding the same girl with messages. When you do so, even accidentally, all she sees is 1) this guy is a stalker who can't catch a clue, or 2) this guy just sees a hot girl and messages her automatically. You come off as creepy, desperate, or both - not a good combination.
Related to this ... visiting a girl's profile over and over again in the hopes of sparking some interest or communication. While I have seen several men commit this mistake, there is one in particular who visits me at least once every three weeks - but has never even sent me a note. This is a type of persistence which is almost worse than the kind where you message, message, message until you're blue in the ... fingertips.
STOP DRY-HUMPING MY PROFILE!! Seriously, either get your shit together and send me a message, or fade away once and for all. I visited this one's profile a long time ago and decided I wasn't interested, at least not enough to be the first to send a message. If he'd at least ACTED, he'd have known where he stood. But he's given me the chance to see that either he's too shy to go after something he obviously wants, or that he's too forgetful to remember he's visited me at least ten times already. Either way, I'm even less interested than I was before.
Today's lesson, OkStupidman - if you're interested, message her. ONCE. If you've messaged her, REMEMBER. And if she's not responding, MOVE ON. There are plenty of fish in the quiver ... or something like that :)
Saturday, April 14, 2012
Curb your enthusiasm
All of these posts so far have been about either epically bad "first contact" messages and douchey profiles, or mediocre-to-horrifying first dates. And I've got a few more of those up my sleeve, worry not.
But today's post is different. It's about a guy who actually got a second date out of me - despite my better judgment. Which I should have listened to ... but I'm guessing you knew that part already. If you're squeamish, I recommend you stop here.
Our first date wasn't ... bad, exactly. Greek food followed by Irish beer on a cold, clear night. We had plenty to talk about, and he was quite adorable ... if you got past the sheen of sweat on his forehead. Yikes.
There was enough, mild chemistry that when he pushed through his nerves and leaned in to kiss me at the end of the night, I let him. Luckily, the cold outside had dried his forehead; unluckily, his nerves were still there and he kept opening and closing his mouth in a strangely mechanical way with only empty space in between. I felt like I was playing an adult arcade game where the objective was to get your tongue in and back out again before you were trapped and lost your dollar. Goddamn rigged carnie games. Ow.
He (let's call him Skippy) asked me out again a few days later and I hemmed and hawed. I'm one of those everything-rides-on-the-first-kiss kind of women ... but Skippy was sweet and non-creepily persistent about wanting to take me out to Mexican food ... so I gave in.
That was some of the worst Mexican food I've ever had. The chips were stale - and what self-respecting compadres won't serve you edible rice and beans?? I should have run then, but the surprisingly passable margarita kept me gnawing at my food and hoping I didn't break a tooth.
But Skippy really, really wanted me to come over to his place (conveniently located near Mexican Hell) so he could play some songs for me. See, Skippy had studied guitar. Like, actually went to school for it. It didn't matter that he was currently in retail - he had a collection of about a dozen guitars and wanted to play for me.
So, out of curiosity ... I went. I mean - the guy had ZERO kissing style ... I almost couldn't believe he'd have the dexterity or the soul to play a guitar well. I needed to see it for myself.
Now, as all women know ... watching a man's hands work on a guitar is about the surest panty-dropper there is. The men know this, too, which is, of course, the number one reason they learn to play (the second being so they can join a band while still underage and have someone to buy them booze and smokes).
Skippy was no exception. The man could PLAY. As I watched him effortlessly breeze through four or five different genres on at least three different pieces from his (admittedly impressive) collection, I began to reconsider his overall attractiveness.
(Beer goggles ain't got nothing on the seductive euphoria that emanates from an expertly-wielded guitar.)
He saw his chance and moved in, sitting next to me on the couch. He kissed me - welcome to France, Skippy! I didn't know you had it in you.
But then the spell was broken. Skippy moved down - to kiss my neck, I thought - but instead pecked at it, interspersing each peck with a strange "yummmmm" sound, as if he were burying his muzzle in a dish of food. Peck, yumm, peck, yumm, peck, yummmm ....
Annoyed, I leaned away and tugged at his chin so he would kiss me instead. But he then dramatically planted his hands on either side of my face, screwed his eyes shut, and proceeded to kiss me with redoubled intensity, as if we were filming the world's most epic, romantic moment for digital posterity.
Ew.
It wasn't that he was trying to create an emotion that wasn't there. It wasn't even that he was sort of wrenching my neck in his effort to communicate his desire. It was that ... between the moisture on his forehead, his palms, and his excessively drooly kiss, I felt like I was drowning. When I couldn't ease free, I abruptly pulled away, gasping for air.
So what did Skippy do? Jump in to save me, of course. He literally got on MY lap and tried to kiss me some more. As in, imagine every scene you've ever lived or witnessed where the girl is straddling the guy as he sits on a couch ... now imagine the guy on top instead of the girl ... but due to his limited flexibility and extreme excitement, he is KNEELING on her instead. still attempting to cup her face in his hands.
Down, boy, DOWN! Skippy, I said DOWN!
"I have to go to the bathroom." I admit it, I ran - I mean, I said goodbye first, but I was done. There had been too many tries and fails in that short time - whatever spell had been cast upon me by the sounds of dextrous fingers upon willing strings had been rudely broken by strange moans and thoroughly dissipated by excessive moisture.
Skippy was a puppy. A sweet puppy, to be sure - but a slobbery, horny one, too. He'd managed to acquire a thin veneer of competent maturity with his instrumental mastery ... but it was painfully obvious he had mastery of nothing else. Not of kissing, not of appropriateness, and certainly not of his own body.
I don't care HOW long your dry spell has been (in Skippy's case, a year) - there is NO excuse to go climbing all over your date! Or for trying to create intimacy by suffocating her with fake movie kisses!
In fact, a little restraint might bring you better results. Back off. Let her come to you, and pay attention to her responses. Yes, I know it's hard to concentrate with Skippy Jr. begging to be let out - but when you are acting exactly LIKE Skippy Jr. (puppy see! want! yummy!! climb!!! drooooooool!) ... well, neither one of you will ever get any action. Chill out and act like a big dog.
There's a good boy.
But today's post is different. It's about a guy who actually got a second date out of me - despite my better judgment. Which I should have listened to ... but I'm guessing you knew that part already. If you're squeamish, I recommend you stop here.
Our first date wasn't ... bad, exactly. Greek food followed by Irish beer on a cold, clear night. We had plenty to talk about, and he was quite adorable ... if you got past the sheen of sweat on his forehead. Yikes.
There was enough, mild chemistry that when he pushed through his nerves and leaned in to kiss me at the end of the night, I let him. Luckily, the cold outside had dried his forehead; unluckily, his nerves were still there and he kept opening and closing his mouth in a strangely mechanical way with only empty space in between. I felt like I was playing an adult arcade game where the objective was to get your tongue in and back out again before you were trapped and lost your dollar. Goddamn rigged carnie games. Ow.
He (let's call him Skippy) asked me out again a few days later and I hemmed and hawed. I'm one of those everything-rides-on-the-first-kiss kind of women ... but Skippy was sweet and non-creepily persistent about wanting to take me out to Mexican food ... so I gave in.
That was some of the worst Mexican food I've ever had. The chips were stale - and what self-respecting compadres won't serve you edible rice and beans?? I should have run then, but the surprisingly passable margarita kept me gnawing at my food and hoping I didn't break a tooth.
But Skippy really, really wanted me to come over to his place (conveniently located near Mexican Hell) so he could play some songs for me. See, Skippy had studied guitar. Like, actually went to school for it. It didn't matter that he was currently in retail - he had a collection of about a dozen guitars and wanted to play for me.
So, out of curiosity ... I went. I mean - the guy had ZERO kissing style ... I almost couldn't believe he'd have the dexterity or the soul to play a guitar well. I needed to see it for myself.
Now, as all women know ... watching a man's hands work on a guitar is about the surest panty-dropper there is. The men know this, too, which is, of course, the number one reason they learn to play (the second being so they can join a band while still underage and have someone to buy them booze and smokes).
Skippy was no exception. The man could PLAY. As I watched him effortlessly breeze through four or five different genres on at least three different pieces from his (admittedly impressive) collection, I began to reconsider his overall attractiveness.
(Beer goggles ain't got nothing on the seductive euphoria that emanates from an expertly-wielded guitar.)
He saw his chance and moved in, sitting next to me on the couch. He kissed me - welcome to France, Skippy! I didn't know you had it in you.
But then the spell was broken. Skippy moved down - to kiss my neck, I thought - but instead pecked at it, interspersing each peck with a strange "yummmmm" sound, as if he were burying his muzzle in a dish of food. Peck, yumm, peck, yumm, peck, yummmm ....
Annoyed, I leaned away and tugged at his chin so he would kiss me instead. But he then dramatically planted his hands on either side of my face, screwed his eyes shut, and proceeded to kiss me with redoubled intensity, as if we were filming the world's most epic, romantic moment for digital posterity.
Ew.
It wasn't that he was trying to create an emotion that wasn't there. It wasn't even that he was sort of wrenching my neck in his effort to communicate his desire. It was that ... between the moisture on his forehead, his palms, and his excessively drooly kiss, I felt like I was drowning. When I couldn't ease free, I abruptly pulled away, gasping for air.
So what did Skippy do? Jump in to save me, of course. He literally got on MY lap and tried to kiss me some more. As in, imagine every scene you've ever lived or witnessed where the girl is straddling the guy as he sits on a couch ... now imagine the guy on top instead of the girl ... but due to his limited flexibility and extreme excitement, he is KNEELING on her instead. still attempting to cup her face in his hands.
Down, boy, DOWN! Skippy, I said DOWN!
"I have to go to the bathroom." I admit it, I ran - I mean, I said goodbye first, but I was done. There had been too many tries and fails in that short time - whatever spell had been cast upon me by the sounds of dextrous fingers upon willing strings had been rudely broken by strange moans and thoroughly dissipated by excessive moisture.
Skippy was a puppy. A sweet puppy, to be sure - but a slobbery, horny one, too. He'd managed to acquire a thin veneer of competent maturity with his instrumental mastery ... but it was painfully obvious he had mastery of nothing else. Not of kissing, not of appropriateness, and certainly not of his own body.
I don't care HOW long your dry spell has been (in Skippy's case, a year) - there is NO excuse to go climbing all over your date! Or for trying to create intimacy by suffocating her with fake movie kisses!
In fact, a little restraint might bring you better results. Back off. Let her come to you, and pay attention to her responses. Yes, I know it's hard to concentrate with Skippy Jr. begging to be let out - but when you are acting exactly LIKE Skippy Jr. (puppy see! want! yummy!! climb!!! drooooooool!) ... well, neither one of you will ever get any action. Chill out and act like a big dog.
There's a good boy.
Sunday, April 1, 2012
Elementary, my dear Wanker
I went out on a first date a few months ago with a guy who'd been one of the first people I'd ever exchanged messages with on OkC. We'll call him ... Sherlock. We had a good time emailing each other - we swapped casting suggestions for the live-action Thundercats movie (you KNOW Vin Diesel's gotta be Panthro), discussed a hypothetical stand-up routine based only on the elements of the presidential bathroom (bidet control panel complete with great big red "nukes" button), and other witty exchanges - but by the time Sherlock finally asked me out, I'd established a more exclusive relationship with someone else, so I had to tell him no.
A few months after that particular experiment in unloading baggage ended, Sherlock and I finally went on a date. He picked the place - gourmet French cuisine - which seemed a bit overdone for a first date, especially after I specifically said "nothing too fancy" when he asked me about my preferences. He also established that he'd be buying our meal. Now, don't get me wrong - I love it when guys pick up the check on a first date, and really mean it - but if you ask me where I want to go, you damn well better take it into consideration!
The night of the date arrived. I live in the suburbs, and the drive into the city can vary from 15 to 35 minutes - it's anybody's guess. I was running late, and texted him to tell him so - that I'd be maybe 5 minutes late. Then I hit some keerazy traffic. I shot him a quick text to say, well, maybe more like 10 or 15. He said okay, and he was there already. Yikes! When I cleared the traffic and got off the freeway, I let him know my new ETA. His response: "Don't text and drive."
Oh, crap - did I put "Mom" into the "Looking for" part of my profile? No, no I didn't. I've got a mom and a stepmom, and the two of them are all I need yelling at me for my choices. You, person I've never even met - don't get to reprimand me, especially when I'm texting out of courtesy and concern for being late.
But, hey - text messages don't convey tone, right? Maybe he meant to be playful. So, I wiped the WTF off my face and entered the restaurant determined to give him a chance; because I'm an expert at cutting people off and I scored primo parking, I was in my seat all of five minutes late. I know this because I took out my phone to turn off the volume when I sat down.
There was an awkward moment where he didn't help me with my coat, or pour me a glass of water, or do anything besides stare at me while I apologized for being late and commented on what a great table he'd gotten. Fortunately the server came around to take care of both.
Small talk ensued. I tried my hardest, I swear, but the conversation was mediocre, at best. At some point he mentioned that he too, lives in the suburbs, only in another direction. I said, "Ah! You know how crazy the traffic can get around here. One minute it's clear and the next all the cars are stacked up like dominoes." His response: "Yeah, that's why I planned ahead and left early." Stare.
I checked out then, mentally. Seriously?? You're going to dig at me for arriving FIVE MINUTES late for a date we scheduled during rush hour, when I gave you a heads-up as soon as I knew that I would, in fact, be running late? And after reprimanding me for having the temerity to TELL you I was running late? And all this on our FIRST date?? What happens if I forget to put the cap on the toothpaste, or if, in a fit of unbridled laziness, I don't check the mail for two days straight?
I had a vision of soup cans all lined up, labels out. Towels hung in perfect symmetry. This OkCynic knew then and there that it was time to swim away, fast.
Texting and driving isn't safe - NO SHIT, SHERLOCK.
You should always plan on arriving early to your destination - NO SHIT, SHERLOCK.
When on a first date, please avoid acting like her mother. Chances are she passed elementary school with flying colors, and maybe even a few other grades, as well. If you ask her what she wants, don't assume that you know best and impose your judgment. If she's engaging in behaviors that you consider immature, take that into the whole picture of who she is and decide if you can cope. But a first date is not the right time to call her out on any of it.
A few months after that particular experiment in unloading baggage ended, Sherlock and I finally went on a date. He picked the place - gourmet French cuisine - which seemed a bit overdone for a first date, especially after I specifically said "nothing too fancy" when he asked me about my preferences. He also established that he'd be buying our meal. Now, don't get me wrong - I love it when guys pick up the check on a first date, and really mean it - but if you ask me where I want to go, you damn well better take it into consideration!
The night of the date arrived. I live in the suburbs, and the drive into the city can vary from 15 to 35 minutes - it's anybody's guess. I was running late, and texted him to tell him so - that I'd be maybe 5 minutes late. Then I hit some keerazy traffic. I shot him a quick text to say, well, maybe more like 10 or 15. He said okay, and he was there already. Yikes! When I cleared the traffic and got off the freeway, I let him know my new ETA. His response: "Don't text and drive."
Oh, crap - did I put "Mom" into the "Looking for" part of my profile? No, no I didn't. I've got a mom and a stepmom, and the two of them are all I need yelling at me for my choices. You, person I've never even met - don't get to reprimand me, especially when I'm texting out of courtesy and concern for being late.
But, hey - text messages don't convey tone, right? Maybe he meant to be playful. So, I wiped the WTF off my face and entered the restaurant determined to give him a chance; because I'm an expert at cutting people off and I scored primo parking, I was in my seat all of five minutes late. I know this because I took out my phone to turn off the volume when I sat down.
There was an awkward moment where he didn't help me with my coat, or pour me a glass of water, or do anything besides stare at me while I apologized for being late and commented on what a great table he'd gotten. Fortunately the server came around to take care of both.
Small talk ensued. I tried my hardest, I swear, but the conversation was mediocre, at best. At some point he mentioned that he too, lives in the suburbs, only in another direction. I said, "Ah! You know how crazy the traffic can get around here. One minute it's clear and the next all the cars are stacked up like dominoes." His response: "Yeah, that's why I planned ahead and left early." Stare.
I checked out then, mentally. Seriously?? You're going to dig at me for arriving FIVE MINUTES late for a date we scheduled during rush hour, when I gave you a heads-up as soon as I knew that I would, in fact, be running late? And after reprimanding me for having the temerity to TELL you I was running late? And all this on our FIRST date?? What happens if I forget to put the cap on the toothpaste, or if, in a fit of unbridled laziness, I don't check the mail for two days straight?
I had a vision of soup cans all lined up, labels out. Towels hung in perfect symmetry. This OkCynic knew then and there that it was time to swim away, fast.
Texting and driving isn't safe - NO SHIT, SHERLOCK.
You should always plan on arriving early to your destination - NO SHIT, SHERLOCK.
When on a first date, please avoid acting like her mother. Chances are she passed elementary school with flying colors, and maybe even a few other grades, as well. If you ask her what she wants, don't assume that you know best and impose your judgment. If she's engaging in behaviors that you consider immature, take that into the whole picture of who she is and decide if you can cope. But a first date is not the right time to call her out on any of it.
Saturday, January 21, 2012
Careful on the approach
Standing out on an online dating site is hard, especially when you're the one making the first move. I've discussed the OkApproach in a previous post, in an effort to discourage those mass-mailed, generic, copy-paste emails that are probably sent out by the dozen or more, perhaps with the misguided notion that casting a wide net will at least catch one fish out of the supposedly plenty that are out there (see how I'm mixing my online dating site metaphors? Ah, but the great OkC vs. PoF debate will have to wait for a later time).
I should mention, though, that now that I have a PoF profile (and once I got over the shock of having the site suggest my ex to me as soon as I completed my first test - that was unpleasant) ... all the instances of OkStupidity and PlentyOfFoolishness have sort of mixed together in my head so I'll be copy-pasting messages and telling stories from both sites.
Okay, so back to the OkApproach. I could go on and on about the generic, BORING messages that I've received - how was your weekend? How are you? How about this sunshine? How about that snow? How about them Saints?
Those are kinds of questions that work when you're hitting someone up in a bar, or trying to talk to the friend of a friend. There are likely only a few other people around who have intentions towards the same person you do - so it's okay to be a bit dull at the beginning, because she's likely to give you more of a chance. Even if the words themselves make you sound about as fascinating as a turnip, if you've got a twinkle in your eye, a spring in your step, a bulge in your bicep, a hint of enticing cologne, a ready smile, or a laughing group of friends around you - she might not turn away. Then you can stop being so nervous and let her see how great you are.
But this is online dating, people - all you have is a profile pic and those first few words to help you stand out from amongst the competition! There are probably dozens and dozens of men hitting up the very same woman you are - and it's hard to keep track of who's who. When I have an inbox filled with "How is your week going?"-type messages, how in the hell can I - or anyone - be expected to remember you from the rest - let alone go through the effort of wrenching an interesting conversation out of "Hi, how was your Friday"?
Now, you may know better than to be so tritely generic. But still - how do you strike that balance of quirky, engaging, personalized, and confident? What works on some women might might not work for others, so it's hard to say what the "perfect message" looks like. But, as for what doesn't work ... some messages I've gotten are way too forward, some to the point of being pushy - or downright scary. Here are a few which I suppose the average man would know better than to send - yet I think each of these guys, in his own way, thought that he was being clever or pushing my "well, THAT was ballsy" button ...
Category HUH: (Hey, aren't you getting ahead of yourself, Mr. Bossypants?)
- Hi there, I just read your profile and saw your pics. Message me back to get to know each other. Im really lookin forward to chatting with you.
- I cook...you eat. You can teach me to dance if you are up for the challenge.
- I think we are a great match. Let's meet.
- If you're interested let me know. This week is good.
I can only assume that these men thought they should treat their OkApproach like a job interview, where you're supposed to talk as if the deal is already done and you've already got the position. There's nothing wrong with a little confidence - but messages like these have almost a demanding tone to them, which is very unsettling coming from a complete stranger.
Dial it down. Don't just assume that the connection is there because YOU felt there was something in common. Exchange a message or two before ASKING - nicely - if your new interest would like to go on a date.
Category ICK: (What would you do if someone talked to your sister like this?)
- Hey, how is it going? Want to piss of your bf...what's your name? ; ) [when my status was "seeing someone"]
- Damn girl you are seriuosly fine. I've got more pics if you want to see mine, I been working out.
- You should show off your nice chest a little, that I know you have. :O)
- [insert pretty much any other offensive reference to my looks - I've deleted most of these]
- Would you like to meet over some chinese food tonight? I'm hungry and you interest me
That last one in particular literally made me shudder. I'm sure the sender thought he was being dashingly impulsive - but seriously, linking his interest in me with his HUNGER?? Besides, everyone knows you're only full for an hour after eating Chinese - when I read this I had the most disturbing image of myself in a take-out container, on the receiving end of an intense stare, being poked at with chopsticks ...
Seriously, when you're hungry, eat a damn Snickers bar ... or go to IHOP!! You'll leave happy. I, on the other hand ... felt like Little Red Riding Hood.
"My, what big teeth you have ..."
And even if the girl you are pursuing is hot - obviously hot isn't enough, or else she wouldn't need to date online! She's hoping to meet people through a combination of looks AND personality. So, go ahead - say she's pretty, lovely, even gorgeous (I've gotten all these adjectives, but, well - my pictures are carefully curated) - but if her profile says she's looking for long-term, you've GOT to do more than just refer to her looks! No self-respecting woman is going to respond to a message which is completely based on her appearance. I once got a message which said one word: "Daaaaamn." Now, while it was flattering, it was useless. This one was way better:
- you're so adorable, so.... I'm getting rid of my cat. [I'm allergic, and it says so in my profile]
He showed me that he'd actually read my profile, paid me a compliment, made a joke, AND kept it short and sweet. Unfortunately, his profile didn't spark my interest (and I would never ask someone to get rid of their cat for me, anyway), but the point is that his message worked. Not generic, not boring, not pushy, and NOT icky! I at least gave him the time of day.
So, while not being boring and generic is good ... don't go so far in the other direction that you end up being one of the PlentyO'Freaks, or an OkCreep, either. We'd appreciate it.
I should mention, though, that now that I have a PoF profile (and once I got over the shock of having the site suggest my ex to me as soon as I completed my first test - that was unpleasant) ... all the instances of OkStupidity and PlentyOfFoolishness have sort of mixed together in my head so I'll be copy-pasting messages and telling stories from both sites.
Okay, so back to the OkApproach. I could go on and on about the generic, BORING messages that I've received - how was your weekend? How are you? How about this sunshine? How about that snow? How about them Saints?
Those are kinds of questions that work when you're hitting someone up in a bar, or trying to talk to the friend of a friend. There are likely only a few other people around who have intentions towards the same person you do - so it's okay to be a bit dull at the beginning, because she's likely to give you more of a chance. Even if the words themselves make you sound about as fascinating as a turnip, if you've got a twinkle in your eye, a spring in your step, a bulge in your bicep, a hint of enticing cologne, a ready smile, or a laughing group of friends around you - she might not turn away. Then you can stop being so nervous and let her see how great you are.
But this is online dating, people - all you have is a profile pic and those first few words to help you stand out from amongst the competition! There are probably dozens and dozens of men hitting up the very same woman you are - and it's hard to keep track of who's who. When I have an inbox filled with "How is your week going?"-type messages, how in the hell can I - or anyone - be expected to remember you from the rest - let alone go through the effort of wrenching an interesting conversation out of "Hi, how was your Friday"?
Now, you may know better than to be so tritely generic. But still - how do you strike that balance of quirky, engaging, personalized, and confident? What works on some women might might not work for others, so it's hard to say what the "perfect message" looks like. But, as for what doesn't work ... some messages I've gotten are way too forward, some to the point of being pushy - or downright scary. Here are a few which I suppose the average man would know better than to send - yet I think each of these guys, in his own way, thought that he was being clever or pushing my "well, THAT was ballsy" button ...
Category HUH: (Hey, aren't you getting ahead of yourself, Mr. Bossypants?)
- Hi there, I just read your profile and saw your pics. Message me back to get to know each other. Im really lookin forward to chatting with you.
- I cook...you eat. You can teach me to dance if you are up for the challenge.
- I think we are a great match. Let's meet.
- If you're interested let me know. This week is good.
I can only assume that these men thought they should treat their OkApproach like a job interview, where you're supposed to talk as if the deal is already done and you've already got the position. There's nothing wrong with a little confidence - but messages like these have almost a demanding tone to them, which is very unsettling coming from a complete stranger.
Dial it down. Don't just assume that the connection is there because YOU felt there was something in common. Exchange a message or two before ASKING - nicely - if your new interest would like to go on a date.
Category ICK: (What would you do if someone talked to your sister like this?)
- Hey, how is it going? Want to piss of your bf...what's your name? ; ) [when my status was "seeing someone"]
- Damn girl you are seriuosly fine. I've got more pics if you want to see mine, I been working out.
- You should show off your nice chest a little, that I know you have. :O)
- [insert pretty much any other offensive reference to my looks - I've deleted most of these]
- Would you like to meet over some chinese food tonight? I'm hungry and you interest me
That last one in particular literally made me shudder. I'm sure the sender thought he was being dashingly impulsive - but seriously, linking his interest in me with his HUNGER?? Besides, everyone knows you're only full for an hour after eating Chinese - when I read this I had the most disturbing image of myself in a take-out container, on the receiving end of an intense stare, being poked at with chopsticks ...
Seriously, when you're hungry, eat a damn Snickers bar ... or go to IHOP!! You'll leave happy. I, on the other hand ... felt like Little Red Riding Hood.
"My, what big teeth you have ..."
And even if the girl you are pursuing is hot - obviously hot isn't enough, or else she wouldn't need to date online! She's hoping to meet people through a combination of looks AND personality. So, go ahead - say she's pretty, lovely, even gorgeous (I've gotten all these adjectives, but, well - my pictures are carefully curated) - but if her profile says she's looking for long-term, you've GOT to do more than just refer to her looks! No self-respecting woman is going to respond to a message which is completely based on her appearance. I once got a message which said one word: "Daaaaamn." Now, while it was flattering, it was useless. This one was way better:
- you're so adorable, so.... I'm getting rid of my cat. [I'm allergic, and it says so in my profile]
He showed me that he'd actually read my profile, paid me a compliment, made a joke, AND kept it short and sweet. Unfortunately, his profile didn't spark my interest (and I would never ask someone to get rid of their cat for me, anyway), but the point is that his message worked. Not generic, not boring, not pushy, and NOT icky! I at least gave him the time of day.
So, while not being boring and generic is good ... don't go so far in the other direction that you end up being one of the PlentyO'Freaks, or an OkCreep, either. We'd appreciate it.
Saturday, December 17, 2011
Bow out gracefully
I have to give OkC props for its compatibility indicators - not necessarily because high percentages guarantee success, but because low ones are almost always great, big, color-coded, accurate "RUN AWAY NOW!" signs which, even next to the hottest of potential matches, I heed without fail. I plan to post more in detail on this soon.
This rant, however, is about how sometimes, even when everything seems like it should be right ... match percentages are high, photos are promising, messages are witty ... you go on that first date and ... that's all, folks.
I'm talking about a lack of OkChemistry. Things look good on screen - maybe even look good in person (most of the men I've been on dates with are definitely attractive); hell, maybe even the conversation is stimulating, topics flow, eyebrows raise, laughter bursts forth ... and yet ... something is off. Or just plain absent.
"I'm just not attracted to you." Inexplicable, unpredictable ... and FRUSTRATING. We women understand that most men can stand at attention simply when the wind blows the right way, and that your willingness to sleep with us is pretty much established when you meet us, and you see 1) that the pictures were at least ballpark, 2) no sign of an Adam's apple, and 3) that we seem to use floss at least occasionally.
Are there exceptions? Of course there are - just like there are women who will nail anything that isn't, well ... nailed down. But as a general rule, female arousal is a complex thing. And while I might want to want to sleep with you - cause I think you're nice and I should want to, or I'm in a dry spell -I don't want to. And if I don't want to sleep with you, I'm not going to lead you on and let you take me out on dates with romantic expectations and intentions. I don't like to be led on, and I wouldn't do the same to you.
So what does this mean for you? It means you get the brush-off - the indifferent, non-committal, excruciatingly polite response (if you get one at all) to your oh-so-carefully-composed follow-up to our date, which, to you at least, seemed to be extremely promising.
Yikes. Nobody likes to be brushed off. But you know what's worse? BEING BOMBARDED WITH REPEATED TEXTS-MESSAGES-PROFILE VISITS AFTER EXECUTING A BRUSH-OFF! SEE HOW I'M USING CAPITAL LETTERS RIGHT NOW?? DO YOU FEEL ANNOYED AND EVEN SLIGHTLY VIOLATED?? THAT'S HOW IT FEELS WHEN YOU DON'T LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!!!
Fortunately, this has not been the rule for the majority of my spark-less first dates. Some of the men have felt it too, I think; in other cases, they have quickly caught, and moved, on. Others ... not so perceptive.
Take the man I met for drinks on a Friday night, at a quirky little bar in a quirky little neighborhood that I'd never been to. Talk of the general quirkiness surrounding us made up a good 20% of our conversation; the rest of the time was spent on standard small talk. He was decently handsome, but I felt absolutely no attraction. So, we had an early-ish hug goodbye and I told myself - well, he'll be good for a beer once in a while - and hey, look at this fabulously quirky new place I get to bring people to.
Except, well ... I don't dare set foot in the joint for fear of encouraging him. It took him a MONTH to leave me alone. Repeated "watcha doin?" type texts, stalker-esque profile visits, an IM here and there ... I shudder to think what an encounter now would do to his reality, which he has apparently - thankfully - regained a tenuous grip on.
Then there was another special character ... I'm gonna call him the Artist. The Artist and I had sky-high compatibility, deliciously sarcastic IM banter, and we both found each other very attractive, based on pictures. However, our schedules didn't match up and we couldn't find a time to go out. The full story of the Artist deserves, and will get, its own post. But, the point is that he said something which I found ridiculous and I just stopped replying to his texts. Entirely. I suppose I could have told him how idiotic he appeared to me, but crafting an explanation seemed like more effort than he was worth - so I opted for the brush-off.
Only the Artist had become a stain, the kind that keeps coming back after several rounds in the washer and dryer. Just when I thought I was safe - maybe five or six entire days without a message - I'd get inane inquiries about how I was, and references to inside jokes that only seemed sad and dim to me at that point. Like Mr. Quirky, the Artist took at least a month to go away, perhaps more.
I will never be friends with either of those men; and they will never get introduced to any of my girlfriends, either. There are a few others out there who are in the exact same boat - they've killed any opportunity of having any kind of relationship with me due to their refusal to take a goddamn hint.
So, like so many of my posts, this advice to all the OkStupidmen out there centers around, essentially, not being a freak: when you get the brush-off, BOW OUT GRACEFULLY.
I went on a date several months ago with a guy who was too young for me, but who was just like me - energetic and bright and talkative - way too cool a person to not want to give a chance to. Unfortunately, I found myself in the Land of No Spark (I'm tempted to make a Transformers joke here but I'm still recovering from the overwrought Decepticon-to-Decepticon pep talk in the second installment).
He followed up, I brushed him off ... but I kept him in my mind as someone who exudes positive energy, and I proposed a friendly get-together a few months later. Today, we are absolute buds. And while he has a girlfriend he's very happy with at the moment, I know that if they ever broke up that 1) he wouldn't come on to me, and 2) I'd absolutely introduce him to all my single girlfriends :)
So if you get the brush-off, send a single, simple message - "it was awesome meeting you the other night; let me know if you'd like to hang out sometime" or some variation and then BACK AWAY. Don't mention the brush-off; phrases like "well, I haven't heard back from you about getting together again" or "you haven't responded to my message from Sunday" will just make you sound needy and insecure.
Then, if necessary, write her phone number down somewhere and then erase her contact information from your phone to remove temptation. Take her off your OkC favorites so you don't go bouncing over to her profile every time she answers a question or changes a comma to a semicolon. Seriously, we know you exist, and having "reminders" that you're out there, pantingly available, are both unnecessary and unattractive ... and creepy.
If she wants to see you, she'll say something. After all, she knows where to find you. And if you don't act like an overeager stalker-puppy, she'll probably remember you in a positive way ... which means you may have a chance at a friend, or something more, with her, or her friends, in the future. Winning!
This rant, however, is about how sometimes, even when everything seems like it should be right ... match percentages are high, photos are promising, messages are witty ... you go on that first date and ... that's all, folks.
I'm talking about a lack of OkChemistry. Things look good on screen - maybe even look good in person (most of the men I've been on dates with are definitely attractive); hell, maybe even the conversation is stimulating, topics flow, eyebrows raise, laughter bursts forth ... and yet ... something is off. Or just plain absent.
"I'm just not attracted to you." Inexplicable, unpredictable ... and FRUSTRATING. We women understand that most men can stand at attention simply when the wind blows the right way, and that your willingness to sleep with us is pretty much established when you meet us, and you see 1) that the pictures were at least ballpark, 2) no sign of an Adam's apple, and 3) that we seem to use floss at least occasionally.
Are there exceptions? Of course there are - just like there are women who will nail anything that isn't, well ... nailed down. But as a general rule, female arousal is a complex thing. And while I might want to want to sleep with you - cause I think you're nice and I should want to, or I'm in a dry spell -I don't want to. And if I don't want to sleep with you, I'm not going to lead you on and let you take me out on dates with romantic expectations and intentions. I don't like to be led on, and I wouldn't do the same to you.
So what does this mean for you? It means you get the brush-off - the indifferent, non-committal, excruciatingly polite response (if you get one at all) to your oh-so-carefully-composed follow-up to our date, which, to you at least, seemed to be extremely promising.
Yikes. Nobody likes to be brushed off. But you know what's worse? BEING BOMBARDED WITH REPEATED TEXTS-MESSAGES-PROFILE VISITS AFTER EXECUTING A BRUSH-OFF! SEE HOW I'M USING CAPITAL LETTERS RIGHT NOW?? DO YOU FEEL ANNOYED AND EVEN SLIGHTLY VIOLATED?? THAT'S HOW IT FEELS WHEN YOU DON'T LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!!!
Fortunately, this has not been the rule for the majority of my spark-less first dates. Some of the men have felt it too, I think; in other cases, they have quickly caught, and moved, on. Others ... not so perceptive.
Take the man I met for drinks on a Friday night, at a quirky little bar in a quirky little neighborhood that I'd never been to. Talk of the general quirkiness surrounding us made up a good 20% of our conversation; the rest of the time was spent on standard small talk. He was decently handsome, but I felt absolutely no attraction. So, we had an early-ish hug goodbye and I told myself - well, he'll be good for a beer once in a while - and hey, look at this fabulously quirky new place I get to bring people to.
Except, well ... I don't dare set foot in the joint for fear of encouraging him. It took him a MONTH to leave me alone. Repeated "watcha doin?" type texts, stalker-esque profile visits, an IM here and there ... I shudder to think what an encounter now would do to his reality, which he has apparently - thankfully - regained a tenuous grip on.
Then there was another special character ... I'm gonna call him the Artist. The Artist and I had sky-high compatibility, deliciously sarcastic IM banter, and we both found each other very attractive, based on pictures. However, our schedules didn't match up and we couldn't find a time to go out. The full story of the Artist deserves, and will get, its own post. But, the point is that he said something which I found ridiculous and I just stopped replying to his texts. Entirely. I suppose I could have told him how idiotic he appeared to me, but crafting an explanation seemed like more effort than he was worth - so I opted for the brush-off.
Only the Artist had become a stain, the kind that keeps coming back after several rounds in the washer and dryer. Just when I thought I was safe - maybe five or six entire days without a message - I'd get inane inquiries about how I was, and references to inside jokes that only seemed sad and dim to me at that point. Like Mr. Quirky, the Artist took at least a month to go away, perhaps more.
I will never be friends with either of those men; and they will never get introduced to any of my girlfriends, either. There are a few others out there who are in the exact same boat - they've killed any opportunity of having any kind of relationship with me due to their refusal to take a goddamn hint.
So, like so many of my posts, this advice to all the OkStupidmen out there centers around, essentially, not being a freak: when you get the brush-off, BOW OUT GRACEFULLY.
I went on a date several months ago with a guy who was too young for me, but who was just like me - energetic and bright and talkative - way too cool a person to not want to give a chance to. Unfortunately, I found myself in the Land of No Spark (I'm tempted to make a Transformers joke here but I'm still recovering from the overwrought Decepticon-to-Decepticon pep talk in the second installment).
He followed up, I brushed him off ... but I kept him in my mind as someone who exudes positive energy, and I proposed a friendly get-together a few months later. Today, we are absolute buds. And while he has a girlfriend he's very happy with at the moment, I know that if they ever broke up that 1) he wouldn't come on to me, and 2) I'd absolutely introduce him to all my single girlfriends :)
So if you get the brush-off, send a single, simple message - "it was awesome meeting you the other night; let me know if you'd like to hang out sometime" or some variation and then BACK AWAY. Don't mention the brush-off; phrases like "well, I haven't heard back from you about getting together again" or "you haven't responded to my message from Sunday" will just make you sound needy and insecure.
Then, if necessary, write her phone number down somewhere and then erase her contact information from your phone to remove temptation. Take her off your OkC favorites so you don't go bouncing over to her profile every time she answers a question or changes a comma to a semicolon. Seriously, we know you exist, and having "reminders" that you're out there, pantingly available, are both unnecessary and unattractive ... and creepy.
If she wants to see you, she'll say something. After all, she knows where to find you. And if you don't act like an overeager stalker-puppy, she'll probably remember you in a positive way ... which means you may have a chance at a friend, or something more, with her, or her friends, in the future. Winning!
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