Online and Otherwise - Dating Advice for Men

Blogger Faux Pas

2010-07-16T13:46:00.003-04:00

Sorry if you were wondering not only where I've been, but also why an exercise post suddenly appeared on my blog and what in the world it had to do with dating.

Truth is, it had nothing to do with dating. I accidentally posted to the wrong blog (if you do want to read about my insane P90X and Marathon training, go to http://dauntlessp90xer.blogspot.com).

As for where I've been, a lot of the time away was spent dating someone great. The rest of the time has been spent not dating anyone. Hence the lack of posts. But, I'll be back to blogging again in good time.

Surprisingly Sweet

2009-08-24T14:35:00.006-04:00

Every woman has at some point met, dated, almost married, married, and/or divorced a complete jerk. The kind of guy who is thirty pounds overweight yet winces when her size two ass bends over in front of him. It's inevitable that sometime between the sandbox and the cemetery, we've had Mr. I'm Better Than You.

That's good news for you, guys (really good), because those bad boys set the bar low (really low). All you need is the teeniest bit of sweetness to become our Sugar.

So, be surprisingly sweet*

If you've just returned from a guys weekend and you're discussing where to have dinner, and she says, "I have bad news. I don't like tacos." You say, "I have good news. I missed you this weekend."

It might just knock her pants off.

*As with the last post, don't try this too early. Make sure she's feeling you.

Make. Her. Guac.

2009-07-22T10:13:00.004-04:00

Ok, so not every woman will be bowled over by your efforts at Mexican, especially if avocados cause hives to creep up her neck. But if it's spicy she loves, it'll melt her heart!

Thing is, it doesn't matter if she's into guacamole, sangria, cream and sugar in her coffee, or pink tube socks. Find out what she likes and incorporate it somehow.*

Say she loves kayaking - take her on an adventure date. Climb a rock wall, go hiking. Just get on the move.

She craves mint chocolate chip ice cream. Surprise her with it when you take her to an outdoor movie.

Ok, how about those pink tube socks? Buy her a pair and take her to see an 80's hair band.

Doesn't matter how small or silly the item. What matters is that you're listening. I can't guarantee happily ever after, but chances are good you'll get another date.

*One word of caution: don't try this on a first date. Wait until you've gone out a couple times and have developed a rapport. Otherwise it's not charming, it's restraining order-ish.

Bees are Attracted to Honey, Not Dickheads

2009-05-27T20:28:00.005-04:00

His email consisted of three paragraphs. One to pad each insult.

From paragraph 1:

"You get points for being a Skins fan. But, other than a healthy interest in sports, I hope you have more to offer - I mean, I can easily enjoy sports with my buddies, but I'd like the women I date (yes, he used the plural form of woman) to have more to offer."

And paragraph 2:

"I also see you're looking for someone "outdoorsy"- what exactly is your definition? I hope you're not the type to consider "roughing it" as walking the C&O canal in running shoes while gabbing on your cell phone."

Ok, in an offer of full disclosure, he did put a :-P after that statement. But, really? :-P doesn't do much for me after a second insult.

And for his parting words:

"I'm sure your headline (phrase people see before clicking on a profile) has caused your inbox to flood with emails from pudgy, middle-aged divorcees, so I'll let you get back to reading them."

If this were the hive, he would not be banging the queen.

Sex, Love, and Guacamole

2009-05-05T20:41:00.002-04:00

I've decided that's all a girl really needs to maintain a state of bliss. And this Cinco de Mayo, one out of three ain't bad.

Zip, Zilch, Zero.

2009-03-30T21:50:00.005-04:00

My apologies for my lack of updates. You didn't miss much. One conversation with an old guy on the running trail, and zero with men buying mangoes.

Although the dares resulted in zippy dates, I had a fantastic time getting out of my comfort zone. Turns out, the zone is not the best place in the world to meet men. So thank you for your encouragement.

And in keeping with leaving my comfort zone, I'm off to a foreign country! I'd love to have you along for the ride, but unfortunately the country I'm visiting is one in which free speech and blogging are not looked upon kindly. I'll be back mid-April with a report on dating Communist-style!

The official Social Experiment Tally:
Blogosphere: 2
Dauntless: 2
Dates: 0

Two Weeks Notice

2009-03-02T09:27:00.003-05:00

As you know, I've taken on two dares this week.

Therefore, - rule changer that I am - I've decided it's only fair to have two weeks to execute them (Read: they haven't gone very well in the first week).

Stay tuned...

Wild Card!

2009-02-25T21:02:00.003-05:00

I can't choose.

I'm fairly certain I know both so-called 'anonymous' posters of the dares this week. Since choosing one over the other would make me feel mean (which is something I've given up for Lent), I'm changing up the rules! It's Wild Card week!

I'm trying them both.

Oh, and Anonymous #2, right back at ya with that dare. Come on. The readers (and the rest of our friends) would love the story!

Until Monday...

The Results Show for Dare #2

2009-02-22T18:42:00.003-05:00

First, my apologies for the delay. It seems I need a whole weekend full of liquid courage to complete these dares.

Now, for a blow by blow of the winks:

First (nerve-wracking) wink: Stoplight. Me, left turn lane. Him, next to me in the straight lane. Me, neck swiveling, swiveling, swiveling, trying to catch his eye. Finally, green arrow. Look again. Eye contact. Aaaand, wink. Then, go, go, go! Whew. I made it. He's gone.

The next two winks were not as stressful. They were virtual. That's right, match winks. Cop out, I know, but easy. And one led to an email.

The last winks were live. In a bar, where I couldn't run away. I tried to look for what a friend deemed a certain 'winkability': A man without a ring, scanning the room, and a certain air of confidence about him. A man open to the possibility of the wink. I found four. One was the performer of the live music (cop out again). The other three were guys whose eyes I was able to catch across the room. Wink. Wink. Two of them looked away immediately. Wink. The third one seemed a little confused, then looked away. One of my girlfriends had better luck. A close range wink brought two guys right over with stars in their eyes.

Seems my friend is a much better judge of winkability. It certainly couldn't have anything to do with the winker. ;)

Blogosphere: 1 Dauntless: 1 Dates: 0

Next dare, anyone? I'll choose by Tuesday night.

Dare #2 With a Wink and a Smile

2009-02-16T21:20:00.002-05:00

Well, well. Winking could prevent me from being seen as 'girlfriend material'? I am intrigued!

I'll be winking away all week. If you decide to play along, tell me how it goes.

Until Saturday...unless of course this winking gets me charged with solicitation!

The Results Show for Dare #1

2009-02-14T10:40:00.010-05:00

The long of the short: Mission Not Accomplished.

Either the coffee shops in my town are super efficient, or no one is buying coffee in this economy. Not once in my six trips to four different coffee shops (and one bar thrown in for good measure) did I have a patron in line behind me. So I improvised.

At coffee house number one, I went in the evening. Paperwork in hand (to look busy while casing the place), I grabbed a table with a good view. And counted. Twenty-six women and five men. Two of the men were with women, one had a ring, and one was the most flamboyant member of a 'stitch and bitch' club. Guy number five left before a witty pick up line came to me.

At coffee house number two, I tried an early morning approach. The bell on the door announced my arrival, Washington Post under arm, head full of good thoughts. I sat and pretended to read (the front page to look smart). But alas, only they gray haired sort are relaxing in a coffee shop before 7:30am.

Coffee house visits three and five were quick early morning trips so as not to be late for work - boss wouldn't appreciate the explanation of my social experiment.

Coffee house visit number four was in the late afternoon. Three patrons, one dog, and me. The two barristas were cute though. And I did tell one of them the decaf was delicious, so you know, I definitely tried my hardest.

By the end of the week, needing a stiffer drink than a latte, I stopped at a local bar. Pulled out the paperwork again and looked around. Nada. Until an older gentleman - think salt and pepper, not cane - sat down beside me. We had a lovely conversation but he left after one drink. Struck out with an old guy. Update: I take it back. Just checked my work email and he emailed me (He could find it easily - we're in the same county-wide system) Hmmm. Weird or flattering? I'm not sure.

And today (I know, I took an extra day to hopefully have a better story for you), it was more of the same. I took a wingman, but it was no use. Too many couples. Must have something to do with the date.

Blogosphere: 1 Dauntless Dater: 0

There should be a penalty. If you think of one, let me know. In the meantime, I'll take suggestions for a hopefully more successful Dare #2. I'll choose in 48 hrs., Monday evening.

Dare #1

2009-02-08T21:29:00.003-05:00

Well, I love all of your ideas and I thank you for going easy on me on the first dare. I plan on using all of them, but I think only one is possible this week.

The dog park is out for now - my dog is horribly aggressive (although you'd never know it by the excessive snoring that is coming from her chair right now), so it'll take her some serious time to warm up to the park. Time I plan on putting in, but not time I have this week. I'll let you know when it happens. The subway pick up is a great idea too, but I won't be riding the metro till my five days are up. Again, I'll let you know when I strike up conversation with Mr. Ipod.

That leaves latte love. I'm thinking it'll take several trips to find a cutie in line behind me. What if the one I want to hit on is sitting down with his coffee already? Can I walk up and silently hand him a pastry, or is that way too creepy? Guess I'll figure it out in the moment. I'm sure that will make for a good story.

Better run. Got to pack my lunch so I can make it to Starbucks bright and early. By the way, if you're out there reading, being all fabulously single and whatnot, why don't you play along? We can compare notes. I'll be back Friday (if not before) to let you know how it goes.

Social Experiment #1

2009-02-06T20:20:00.003-05:00

Ok, so five of you are in. That works for me. But, any of you out there who didn't comment are more than welcome to play along at any time. Here goes nothing.

So I've been inside my own little box living life for quite some time now. Fun, sure. Exciting, no. The desire to try something new has hit me, but the kick in the ass to do so has not. That's where I need your help. Over the next month or so I'll be asking you to play a little virtual truth or dare with me, starting with the dare. I'll be looking for suggestions of ways to leave my comfort zone - more specifically (in keeping with the blog's theme) - ways to meet guys.

Without further ado, the rules: As readers, you will have 48 hours in which to leave your dare as a comment. At the end of the 48 hour period, I will choose one idea to act upon and let you know which dare I'll be performing. Then, I will have five days left in the week in which to act. Next comes the truth. On the fifth day, I will blog my successes and failures with the dare, and the whole thing will start again.

Just as a caveat, I am somewhat of a prude. I will not be choosing any dares in which I take my clothes off or perform sexual favors to get a guy's number. Think tamer than that.

And so the clock ticks. Until Sunday...

Social Experiment Anyone?

2009-02-01T11:51:00.000-05:00

You may have noticed I haven't posted much lately - sort of been comfortable living in my own little box and not getting out in the dating world. But, as we have just entered the month of L-O-V-E, it's time for that to change. And I was hoping a little audience participation might make that happen.

I'm not going to get into the details of my little social experiment, but I will tell you that it won't survive without you (my puppeteers). Let me know through your comments if you're still out there - despite my severe lack of good dating stories - and are willing to help a sista out.

If you're all on board, I'll post my plan on Friday, Feb. 6.

The Runner

2009-01-25T13:52:00.000-05:00

I'm not exactly forward. If I see a guy who I think is cute, my MO is to put myself in his vicinity and hope he makes a move. Not the best way to meet a guy, I'll admit, but sometimes it turns out I'm thankful for that.

The other day at the gym, I spotted a good-looking guy on the treadmill. Unfortunately, the nice new treadmill next to him was taken. I settled for an older model and began my workout. As soon as the treadmill next to him became available, I hopped off my machine and onto that one. Sweet. A good treadmill and a chance to meet this guy.

About five minutes into my run, Cute Guy tightly gripped the handles of his treadmill. Hmm. He must be getting tired. I hope he's not getting off so soon. Then he returned to pumping his arms. Oh good. He's not stopping. Three seconds later, a rotten stench filled the air. Oh, what? Eww. Dude, was that him?

I gave him the benefit of the doubt - it could have been anyone - and let my mind wander back to his calves. A few minutes later, he grasped for the handles again. And ten seconds after that, bam! Like a month old egg cracked in July.

The next time he reached for his treadmill, I frantically jammed the emergency stop button and went to lift weights next to the old guy who smelled like peaches. Mmm. Peaches.

So guys, it's ok to stop mid-run to use the bathroom. Really, please do.

Ambiguity

2008-12-04T19:34:00.000-05:00

Not a great thing when trying to impress girls. A friend of mine recently met a male neighbor of hers and had the following conversation with herself...

Mmm. Hot guy. No ring. Probably gay.

The next day:

Oh, a fleece hoodie? Straight.

When he invited her in to see the renovations he'd made on his house:

Sweet. Straight.

And when she saw the sconces on his walls:

Damn it! Gay.

After he explained someone else had decorated his home:

I dunno, Bi?

Sure She Can Break Your Heart...

2008-11-21T20:27:00.001-05:00

But don't let her touch your spirit.

I'm at Starbucks, sipping my latte and happily typing on my computer. It is cathartic. Warm drinks and writing. Nothing better. Until I hear a familiar trill from my backpack.

A text message. My heart pounds rapidly. My breath is shallow. My fingers, weak. They fumble around the keyboard, drunks colliding, unable to maintain their space.

I have to check it. Finish your sentence. It will not be him. Finish the sentence. I can't feel my legs. Finish the sentence. Please let it be him.

The drunkards complete their task and I am free. I turn and unzip my backpack hanging on the back of my chair. I dig for the phone. A calm washes over me. I will soon have my answer. I locate the phone and click, light up the screen.

No messages. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. It wasn't even my phone.

Made me laugh too. He might have broken my heart, but he ain't crushed my spirit.

An Even Bigger Reality Check

2008-11-16T18:15:00.000-05:00

Boy do I feel like an idiot. Why couldn't we date? Turns out there wasn't a reason X,Y, or Z. The reason was me. Looks like that bus isn't going to do me a whole lot of good after all.

Promise I'm back to the advice for guys soon. Because apparently I'm only getting better at this dating thing.

I Have a Confession to Make

2008-11-09T20:24:00.000-05:00

My last post seemed to resonate with some women out there, so I figure I should share a couple of my own most ridiculous, far from reality, 'happily ever after' scenarios. No, they do not include small rodents singing to me and making me dresses, but for as realistic as my fantasies are, there might as well be.

Without further ado:

I walk into a swanky bar, my date's hot hand on the small of my back. There, across the room, is the man who let me go. He is on a date with a beautiful woman. Mr. Let-Dauntless-Go notices me immediately and cannot peel his eyes from me. He is barely speaking to his date because of it. When I excuse myself from my date to go to the restroom, he does the same. He meets me in the hallway, professes his love and stupidity at letting me go, and asks me to end my date and meet him for coffee. Cut to the coffee shop. He and I are sipping from over-sized mugs. The camera recedes as I cautiously laugh at his joke, guarded at the beginning of this second chance.

Then there's the really bad one. This one's been around for 15 plus years.

Mr. Dauntless-is-great-but-I'm-not-ready-for-whatever-reason has told (or texted) me that we shouldn't see each other. That he is not ready for reason X,Y,or Z. I am heartbroken. Our connection, intellectual and physical, is so strong, I cannot fathom either of us could ever find anyone else. But, I am understanding of his X,Y, or Z reason (as I am eternally patient and kind) and know we shall live happily forever, regardless of the fact he has not yet come to the same conclusion. Until one stormy day, tragedy strikes. A terrible car accident has left me in the hospital, unconscious. When I come to, Mr. Dauntless-is-great-but-I'm-not-ready-for-whatever-reason is at my bedside, head bent, silently crying. I say something witty and he looks up, shocked at the sound of my voice. At this point, he professes his love, can't believe he almost lost me, and reason X,Y,Z is no longer an obstacle.

What!? Really? I'd put myself in physical harm (even only in my imagination) just to have some dope wake up to the realization that I'm awesome? And I call myself a feminist? That, my friends, is why this is a confession. And here's another:

Last night I was crossing the street when a bus almost turned into my path, leaving me a pancake. Instead of saying a prayer of thanks for the driver's opthamologist, I thought, "Hmmm..."

So, ladies, what's your go-to 'happily ever after' fantasy?

Read, Recite, Repeat

2008-11-08T09:01:00.000-05:00

Ladies, we have to stop. Reading fairy tales to our little girls, understandable. Believing them as grown women, disasterous.

Our princes change, but the story line remains the same. We picture grand gestures in which he professes his love (usually it's the love he only just realized he felt). We replay scenes in our head so often we think they're possible. Our Lloyd Dobler is outside our bedroom window, boom box high above his head, his solemn expression a testiment to his determination to be there for us always.

My nine year old niece wrote a story last weekend. The topic wasn't love, but the beginning struck a chord and ripped me from my own impossible fairy tale, "This story is not like any other story. It doesn't beging with 'Once upon a time' and it doesn't end with 'happily ever after."

Read, recite, repeat.

...Match

2008-10-25T10:41:00.000-04:00

Game, Set...

2008-10-12T20:59:00.001-04:00

Taking it Slow

2008-10-09T17:15:00.000-04:00

Fall, Friends, and Fantasy Football

2008-09-21T21:17:00.000-04:00

The three reasons I've been MIA. Not, unfortunately, because a Greek Islander on a temporary visa has had me tied up for months. Will be back soon with some good ones (another unfortunate event - many of them will be borrowed).

Date A Cougar

2008-07-25T20:11:00.000-04:00

Cougar Country isn't just for the wild wild west anymore, boys. It's all over this beautiful world. Here are the top ten reasons to become cougar* prey:

10. She ain't interested in marrying you, having your kids, or meetin your mama.

9. If you're pokey, she'll say, "This is the part when you kiss me."

8. She invented the back door boogie.

7. She's not afraid to tell you her real age.

6. She's not waiting for you to call.

5. She tells you what she wants, and she means it.

4. She looks damn good.

3. She doesn't much believe your bullshit, but she doesn't much care about it either.

2. She'll ask you if her shirt is in your way, then take it off.

1. She'll ask, "How old is the oldest woman you've been with?" When you answer, she'll laugh and say,"Well, we're changing that tonight, boy."

Date her. You won't be disappointed.

*An older woman

There Should Be Streamers

2008-07-16T12:29:00.001-04:00

If being with someone is so much fun it makes you think, there should be streamers, well then, you might just be on to something my friend.

Wingmom

2008-07-14T16:09:00.001-04:00

Your boys may be good, but I'd bet Mom's better.

My mom and I rented a table at my local yard sale a couple months ago. Always looking for an opportunity, I put on a skirt and some makeup. We set up about 7am and began selling our crap.

Moms, always in tune with the manhunt herself, kept an eye out for me, "How about that one?" She nodded her head in the direction of a young man.

"Hmmph." I shrugged, nonverbally dismissing him.

"{Dauntless}, what's wrong with him?"

"I dunno."

"Ok, how about him?" she asked again. She got the same reply.

Just at that moment, a truck full of firefighters pulled into a nearby cul-de-sac to 'show the kids around the fire truck' (otherwise known as turn on all women within 200 feet).

"Here we go." says Mom. "Go over there and talk to them."

"What? No way!" I replied, as if I don't have any experience at all in this dating world.

"Yes. They're right next to the food. Go over there, get yourself a hotdog and talk to them!"

"Ok," I grudgingly agreed, though I knew full well I would not be striking up any conversations.

When I returned with a hotdog and no firefighter, Mom was not pleased.

"You wimp."

When the firefighters decided to saunter past our table, I took the opportunity to drool while Mom took the opportunity to elbow me.

As they passed a second time, she tried humiliation, {Dauntless}, you're 30. You shouldn't be scared of boys. Go!"

Determined to make Mom proud, I stood up, chased them down (yes, there was some running involved), and invited them to our community happy hour. They accepted.

You can't beat a wingmom with a stick. Try her out guys.

Reruns

2008-07-02T13:04:00.000-04:00

Ever flip on the telly to your favorite show only to start watching and think, This looks familiar. Hey, I think I've seen this one before. I have. This is the one where the kid gets kidnapped and it turns out the stepdad did it to extort some money from mom. Damn reruns. Click.

Well, I'm having that same feeling, only I'm not watching tv, I'm on eharmony. And I came across a really cute guy I've been matched with. Mmm. He's hot. Wait, there's something familiar about this guy. His nose. I've seen that nose before.

Now, since I've been so-called 'channel surfing' for some time now, it's not out of the question that I'd come across the same profile every once in a while. But the more I looked at this guy, the more familiar he became. I wasn't that worried about it until I thought about starting communication with him. Oh Shit! What if I've gone out with him before??

I've watched quite a few shows while writing this blog and I honestly can't remember all of them. I'll probably still contact this guy (right after I publish this post - he is hot after all), and hopefully his memory is as shotty as mine. Besides, reduce, reuse, recycle, right?

I suppose us veterans should start taking notes on this dating thing.

Guest Post!

2008-06-16T18:32:00.000-04:00

One of my favorite bloggers is guest posting today. Unfortunately, I'm afraid his advice is a hell of a lot better than mine. Lucky for me, he's asked not to be identified, so there will be no leaving me for him. Enjoy!

I've enjoyed reading this blog because it gives the female perspective on the dating experience, but I thought it might be helpful to give some insights on the male experience.

The differences between a good date and a bad date aren't that obvious. It seems that a lot of people don't pursue things after a first date because of a lack of "chemistry" but when I think about what dates I have walked away from with a desire to pursue a second date versus the ones that I don't want to see again, a lot of the non-physical things that are attractive are within the girl's control.

As a psych major, I believe that everyone has inside them some kind of ego ideal, even if it doesn't match reality. The fat bald guy at in the Redskins jersey scarfing down nachos at the sports bar might see himself as an athlete even if no one else does. The dowdy librarian who paints hideous abstract art in her basement might see herself as a free spirited hippie artist even if no one else does.

Figuring out someone's idealized version of themselves and validating that, goes a long way towards getting someone to feel positive emotions when they are with you. When you get someone to feel like their idealized version of themselves, they are really happy to be around you.

So how do you figure out someone's ego ideal? Ask questions and listen…really listen to what they have to say. Take a genuine interest in who they are as a person rather than trying to impress them with your own stories. If someone is bragging about something like their job, their skill at kickball or photography, it's probably because they are proud of it and they want to be validated for it because it's part of the way they view their idealized version of themselves. Now, granted, someone who plays (or brags) about kickball is probably a loser, but it's something that's important to them and it's no less cool (to them) than the people who spend hours playing fantasy football, world of warcraft or learning photography.

And yes, the other banal date advice (smile, make eye contact, laugh at their jokes) still applies, but I think you'll probably get a lot more mileage trying to get to know the other person as a human being than waiting for a pause in the conversation so you can try to impress the other person with how awesome you are.

You're Not the Only One

2008-06-09T21:19:00.000-04:00

Hey everybody, thanks for reading my blog. I have a hell of a good time writing it (and doing the research).

A few months ago, some fellow bloggers got together and asked a bunch of us to submit our favorite posts to be published, proceeds to go to charity. The result of their hard work is You're Not The Only One, a series of short stories from us bloggers all over the world.

Proceeds from the sale of the book go to Warchild, an organization committed to helping children affected by war. Interested? Check it out here.

Robin Givens Left for Good Reason

2008-05-27T20:55:00.000-04:00

Lights flicker blue to green to black. Disco mirrors bounce colors around the room. The music vibrates through my chest. Ncha. Ncha. Ncha. Flashes of arms and sweaty hair flinging back and forth. Ncha. Ncha. Ncha.

Wordlessly, he slipped his hand around my waist and turned me toward him. Hot. I lifted an eyebrow, his mouth curled in a sultry grin. I could feel his breath on my cheek. Our hips swayed in harmony. He pulled me closer with each beat. Ncha. Ncha. Ncha. Mmm.

After one song turned to another and another, he pulled back, alternating his gaze between my eyes and at my mouth. Sweet. Slowly he pulled me in and softly kissed my lips. He went in again, this time leaving with...my bottom lip? What the fuck?

He pressed on, ending the third kiss with my top lip between his teeth! Oh, shit. This is some kind of sick fuck.* Thinking as quickly as possible through a fog of vodka, I searched the room for someone to save me. Eyes darting left and right behind his back, he had free rein of my ear. And took full advantage. He gnawed on that for a good few seconds until I pulled away and excused myself.

As hot as you think you are, don't treat a girl like Evander Holyfield.

*Translation: This is disgusting, but I do feel pretty irresistible.

Ladies, am I a prude or would you have been (mostly) disgusted too?

Last Ditch Efforts...

2008-05-15T20:26:00.000-04:00

Are worth a shot. Even if all they get is a laugh.

Setting: Dingy, smoky local bar, Saturday night, 1:50am

Them: Hey, how you ladies doing tonight?

Us: Fine thanks, how 'bout you?

Them: Great. Have a good time tonight?

Us: Yeah.

Bouncer: Alright everybody, time to go.

Them: What are your names?

Us: Dauntless and Dauntless' friend.

Them: We're Darryl and Joe.

Bouncer: Make your way to the door folks.

Us (getting off our bar stools): Well...

Them: Would you two like to continue this conversation at our place?

Us:

Them: Come on, it's still early.

Us: Mmm, no thanks.

Them: We have beer.

Us (looking at each other, grinning): No really. But thanks.

Them: We've got drugs!

Us (beer spraying from our nostrils): Now that's a good one.

The Biggest Loser...

2008-04-21T21:29:00.001-04:00

As a tv show, it can't be beat. As a strategy for dating, it just plain sucks.

I was half-drunk (excuse) the other night after coming home from a happy hour (attempt to prove I'm not a loser) and decided to check my email. Match emailed me some good looking guys that day (stretching the truth) so I decided to click on a couple of them. I didn't know it would sign me into the website (lie). And I certainly didn't think anyone out there in cyber space would notice (wishful thinking). Somehow during my three minutes (20) online, I got the following email:

"11:00 Friday night, and we're both on something that ends with ".com". Pretty sweet."

Hey buddy, look, I know me and I'm no loser (usually). But now you think I am and you're still emailing me? You win. You're the biggest loser.

Just a Touch of Sarcasm

2008-04-06T07:49:00.000-04:00

Dear B-,

I really enjoyed reading your profile. I especially liked when you talked about wanting to change your outlook on 'gringas'. I think women need to be described in derogatory terms more often. Chris Matthews and David Shuster just don't do enough of it for me. Don't those feminists out there who want respect from men really irk you? They seem to be the same women who want -gasp- a female president!

You requested that only if we're fun and interesting enough to hang out with you, should we write. Well, I want to let you know that I'm fun (we'll do whatever you want to do) and interesting (I'll always agree with your point of view). Look no further B-, I'm the gringa (bitch, slut, whore) for you!

Yours,
Dauntless

PS - I love the picture of you grabbing your balls!

Break's Over...

2008-03-30T20:02:00.000-04:00

Back in the pool!

Springtime has showered the Nation's Capital in yellow sunshine, bright flowers, and breezy Cherry Blossoms. It's enough to make a girl feel optimistic about love. Shoot, it's made this girl dauntless about dating again. Yep, I'm re-entering the dating pool fellas. Look out.

Guys, you might want to take this opportunity to do some spring cleaning with your pick up lines. Here's what I heard just last night...

"What are you doing here?"

"What's your favorite candy?"

"What brings you here?"

"You ever heard of Manassas?"

"So, why are you here tonight?"

"I just so happen to be single."

Thankfully, I did hear this one, "I bought an extra shot. Do you want it?"

That Was Me Just Saying So.

2008-02-27T20:30:00.000-05:00

After a few too many bad-but-not-bad-enough-to-be-blog-worthy-dates, I knew I needed a couple of weeks off. Even self-proclaimed 'dauntless daters' get sick of this shit.

The week before I made my decision to go on a break from all men, I met a guy at a bar and had planned to get a drink with him in the near future. In order to stay on the up and up with my good friend karma, I decided to be honest with this guy instead of just not returning his call.

So, I texted him (hey, I said I wanted to be honest, not that I had the biggest balls on the block). I told him that I was going to take a break from dating but that it was great to meet him.

Fifteen minutes later, my phone beeped and I had this message, "Umm...wow. I was talking about drinks not necissarily dating. And you could have just said so."

Four things:
One. You're a dick. Two. Going on a date is dating. Three. I did just say so. And four. Get spellcheck.

When you haven't even gone on a first date, you can't take the shit this personally.

Maybe if this was 1608

2008-01-30T20:28:00.000-05:00

"Ok everyone. Let's go around the room and introduce ourselves." said the teacher to a roomful of adults who didn't care to know anyone else's name.

"Hi, I'm Andy Fallon."

"Hi. My name is Sheryl Logan."

We continued,

"Hi, I'm {Dauntless Dater}." (Dauntless is not very Irish sounding, but the real one is straight from the Old Country).

Introductions led to instruction and shortly, to the end of class. Now was my chance to make eye contact with the thirty-something guy whose knees were shoved next to mine under the too-short science lab table. I smiled as we stacked our chairs. That's when he asked, "So, do you speak Gaelic?"

My head tilted 45 degrees as I argued with myself as to whether or not I heard him right, "Uhhh, no."

That was it. End of conversation. What the?

Isn't that like asking an Italian if she speaks Latin?

We Already Know You Like Sex

2008-01-12T18:23:00.000-05:00

No need to mention it in your list of 'favorite things' on your profile. Also no need to mention that you are looking for someone else who likes sex. We know that too.

I have a little secret for you. Come in real close. Closer. Closer. That's good. Prepare yourself. This is ground-breadking stuff. Are you ready? Women like sex too!

If a woman told you she didn't like sex, all that means is that she didn't like sex with you.

Bet no chick's ever told LL Cool J she didn't like banging.

Rocket Man

2008-01-01T20:36:00.000-05:00

At the risk of piquing on the first day of 2008, I must share this one with you.

My friend "Karen" who had this bad luck several months ago, recently met "Steve" online. They had a lot in common and decided to go out on a date.

The date went well, no real sparks, but the conversation flowed and he asked to see her again. She said 'yes'. The next day, Karen received a text message from Steve, "Good morning beautiful. Hope you have a good day."

Hmm, that's a little over the top after one date, thought Karen. But like all good daters, she was willing to let a little thing like that slide.

The next day, Karen opened her phone to find this message: "Hope you have a great day, too bad it didn’t work out. On our next date, I was planning on taking you to outer space on a rocket ship."

What. the. fuck.

Three days after that he was asking her out again.

Acting like a head case, not a good strategy.

"You are Gorgeous...I want to fuck you."

2007-12-16T13:06:00.000-05:00

Is just really not a good idea for a first email.

Rethink Your Own Information

2007-12-06T18:11:00.000-05:00

Rereading information about your date before you meet is important. For some of us, rethinking our own information is important too.

"So you went to school in Baltimore, {Dauntless}?"

"Yeah, and I stayed in that area for a few years afterward."

"Oh yeah, where did you live?"

"Well, I lived in Towson, Timonium (a lie - with good reason - the truth, Cockeysville), and also, uhh... Holyshit! Whatthefuckwasthatplacecalled? Itwasjustthreeyearsago,moron "Um, White Marsh." That's not right!

"Oh, White Marsh? Where's that?"

Good question. "Just north of the city."

"Oh. Did you like it there?"

"Oh, yeah. It was great." Holy shit! Where did I live???

After the date, I walked through my front door, smacked my head with the palm of my hand and exclaimed to no one, "Owings Mills you moron!"

A Disturbing Discovery

2007-11-25T21:04:00.000-05:00

In all my 29.99 years, I've never had the sort of disturbing discovery I had last week.

Early Sunday the soft morning light peeked through my blinds, rousing me from a good night's sleep. I squealed as I stretched the last bit of sleep from my bones. I was ready to start my day. Five errands to run and two parties to attend, one of which would include lots of single men. It was a promising day.

I swung my feet over the side of the bed, gave the dog a good-morning pat and plodded off to the bathroom. I took care of business, brushed my teeth and washed my face. Then, I began the fourth ritual, blowing my nose.

Blow.

Blow.

Yuck. I need a humidifier or something.

Blow.

Wow, you don't want to come out now, do you, you little shit?

Blow, dig, blow.

Damn. What the hell?

I got all up in the mirror. Close as possible. That's when I realized I wasn't just dealing with a stubborn booger here.

It was a zit. Complete with whitehead. Inside. my. nose.

Now, as this never has happened to me before, I was somewhat at a loss. Traditional zit popping methods were difficult, if not useless. But, after twenty minutes of fretting and contorting, I finally popped that sucker.

So, if ever you have a big, nasty, posing-as-a-booger zit inside your nose on the same day you have the possibility of meeting Ms. Right, here is my advice...

Squeeze the shit out of your nose.

It hurts like hell, but it's much better than snorting Proactive.

Timing is Everything

2007-11-08T19:47:00.000-05:00

It's second down and seven. The opposing team is on their twenty yard line. Doesn't seem like the start of a remarkable play, but I sip my draft, entranced nonetheless.

24, 31, 42, Hike!

The quarterback rolls out of the pocket, looks left, then right. Fires on a line to his right. It's tipped. It starts to wobble. My defender has his sights on that ball. And...

"Hey there [Dauntless]."

"Wha?" I turn to my head left, eyes remaining on the television screen for as long as possible. Then I break away from the television to see it's the guy who I'm supposed to be meeting.

"Oh, hey 'Doug'"

That's when the other patrons start to go wild. Interception!

Damn it! I missed it!

I snap my head back to the television, "Go! go! go!"

He's at the fifteen.

"So, how have you been?" Doug asks.

Keeping my eyes on the screen, I replied, "Uh, great. Yeah."

He's at the ten.

"Go! go!"

"Exciting game, huh?"

Unable to put any thoughts together, I replied, "Wha? Uh..."

Touchdown!

"Whoo hooo!" The bar goes wild. Everyone's jumping and slapping fives. Everyone except Doug.

It's ok that we don't root for the same team. Really, it is. But to not know when to let me watch my team... It's a turn off. A big one.

Slow Motion

2007-10-25T20:32:00.000-04:00

In movies it increases the drama. In football it reverses calls. On dates, it puts women to sleep.

I met up with 'Peter' at a coffee shop in town. We ordered our Pumpkin Spiced Lattes and found a seat near the window. We talked fairly easily for the first few minutes, but it quickly became apparent that I would be the listener (sleeper) in the conversation.

When I asked Peter a simple question about how he met his friends who live in my area (he lives almost an hour away), he said, "Hmmmm. Let's see. (looking up to the ceiling), I met Mike out about a year ago. (index finger tapping chin) Then....I met his girlfriend...aaaaand, then they moved up to Baltimore. Mike actually introduced me tooooo (tapping chin again) Todd and Sam...."

Every time I asked Peter a question, he pondered the answer as if I had asked him the meaning of life. But it was ok. I ended up inventing a little game...counting how long can I nod and say 'mm hmm' without actually speaking. Two minutes, fourteen seconds.

There Are Certain Things You Shouldn't Suggest - Part I

2007-10-15T20:38:00.000-04:00

"So, can I get your number so we can grab a drink sometime?"

"Sure." I proceed to give 'Doug' my number.

"Great. I'll call you sometime this week."

"Ok. Talk to you later."

Two days later, Doug calls and we make plans to meet up for a drink at a local pub the following week. Then, date night rolls around...

"Hello?"

"Hey {Dauntless}, this is Doug. How are you?"

"I'm doing well, thanks. So, are we still on for tonight?"

"Actually, I'm pretty beat tonight with my weekend traveling and whatnot. I'm planning on making a little snack and having some wine though if you'd like to come over."

Ohmygod,he'sapervert!Orarapist.Maybehe'sanaxemurderer.

BodiesinthecerealboxeslikethefreakfromMexico.Holyshit.WhatdoIsay?

"Uhhhh, no. I don't think so." I'd kind of like to keep my innards out of the Cocoa Puffs.

The Blog Lives On.

2007-09-30T21:46:00.000-04:00

So I took everyone's advice and gave my online boyfriends each one more email to ask me out. I've got three dates this week.

Looks like I should turn this advice giving gig over to you.

Survey Says...

2007-09-20T19:48:00.000-04:00

I could pull out my hair and throw my date-ready leopard print heels out the window. No need for them. I haven't had a date in weeks.

This is how it goes. He emails. I email. He emails. I email, et-fucking-cetera. And still there is no date. I wrote about how penpals piss me off a while ago, but the men in my inbox continue to pursue a clickity clack relationship.

Aiming my heel at the open window across the room, a thought suddenly occurred to me and I lowered the shoe in wide wonder. Could it be? Maybe, just maybe? Am I being impatient?

So dear readers, I'd like your help. Especially from any (the three) men who read my blog, how many emails need to go back and forth before you ask a girl out on a date?

Maintain Your Sense of Humor

2007-09-02T21:39:00.000-04:00

We all hit rough patches. If you read my last post, you know I've hit one. But I'm over it. Really. And I only know that because I can laugh.

See, after I heard about the ex, I had a couple of days there where I wasn't dealing with it too well. Yesterday was one of those days.

When a song came on the radio, it was one that made me think of him. When I watched a movie, it had scenes from our favorite city. When I went to Target, there were aisles and aisles of students with his alma mater plastered on their chests (I shit you not. Dog food aisle, air freshener aisle, it made no difference.).

So yesterday was rough, but today I woke up with a new attitude. I remembered what an awful boyfriend he was and instead of being sad that someone I once loved was marrying someone else, I was happy that it wasn't me. I had a fantastic day making friends in the neighborhood and generally not thinking about the ex.

Then I went to Safeway.

Safeway has this policy where after you use your membership card, the cashiers read the name on the receipt and say, "Have a nice day Ms. So-and-so." Well, as I don't have a discount card, I usually type in my parents' phone number to suffice. Not only do I get the discount, but they get the name right ("Thank you Ms. [Dater]"). Well, this particular evening, I must have been distracted because I accidentally typed in my own phone number. The cashier glanced down at the receipt and said, "Thank you. Have a good night Ms. [Ex's last name].

Whoa. I must be hearing things.

So I check the receipt. There it is. [Ex's first name. Ex's last name.]

I must have gaped at that name for a good 30 seconds before my brain processed the random coincidence of it all. Crossing the parking lot, I threw my head back and laughed my ass off.

If there are dating guardian angels, mine's got a fucked up sense of humor.

Don't Kick Her When She's Down (or ever really)

2007-08-26T18:38:00.000-04:00

August has not been good to me.

This month I have been stood up, unceremoniously dumped, and learned that my ex is engaged. Ouch.

Then, this morning, after only eleven hours to process my ex's happily ever after, I received yet another email from the Bitter Bob who gave me attitude when I wouldn't give him my number.

Subject: Oh jeez!

Message: Your back on match...didn't you learn your lesson the first time that emailing and not meeting makes match worthless?

I have too much class (fear for my personal safety) to retaliate and explain to him that I tend to avoid meeting bitter, whiny assholes who don't know the difference between 'your' and 'you're'. So I thought I'd do so here.

No, you won't know when the girl you are trying to contact is feeling down, but that's ok. Just don't be a dick. Ever.

Phallic Phascination

2007-08-25T08:34:00.000-04:00

Yeah, yeah, I know it's funny to see things that remind you of your penis. And yes, it's funny to take a picture of yourself with these phallic reminders. But, it's just plain creepy when you post these pictures with your profile.

In the past week, I have seen three different men who have made this deal-breaking mistake.

Mr. Posing with a Nude Man - Nude statue. Hands on hips, goods swaying in the wind. Next to him, the man who wants to find a date, standing in the same pose, thankfully fully clothed.

Mr. Cactus Penis - This man found a phallic looking cactus, stood over it, and smiled as he longingly gazed at the gigantic penis extending from his legs. Yuck and ouch.

Mr. Bull Balls - Picture this: Huge sculpture of a bull, complete with melon-sized testicles. The man who is attempting to woo women is laying beneath the bull so that it's balls are resting on his head. It's balls are resting on his head! What. the. fuck.

Note to Self

2007-08-10T20:15:00.000-04:00

You were falling for her and she ripped the rug right out from underneath you. She talked a big game. You had a good feeling about her. Then she stood you up. She didn't call. Didn't text. Didn't email.

She's a bitch.

Do not blame yourself, even if there were a couple of things you would have done differently, they certainly weren't deal breakers.

You do not have my permission to waste another minute thinking about her. You get your single ass back out there and find the right one.

Wardrobe Malfunctions

2007-08-04T22:49:00.000-04:00

Home improvement stores are the best places to meet strapping young men who are good with their hands. Ehhem. Urban legend or not, this belief lives on in the hearts of single women everywhere.

I happily hummed to myself as I strolled the aisles at Lowes, feeling giddy about some of those strapping prospects I spotted. Taking my time, I carefully selected my merchandise (stalked a particularly steamy customer), and headed for the check out. I was helped by a super friendly clerk who gave me a wide smile each time she made eye contact with me. Maybe, I supposed, she knew the real reason I was shopping at this fine establishment. I had a fleeting thought that I could really use a second job.

As I exited the store and pushed my shopping cart across the parking lot, I glanced down to make sure my potting soil was secure under the cart. That's when I noticed something was wrong. My potting soil was fine, but I was looking straight down at my ass! In all my strolling, my skirt had shifted more than 90 degrees around my waist. I twisted and pulled while trying to hold on to my cart with one hand, avoid being hit by a car, and stifle my nervous laughter.

Damn. it.

Man, woman, young, old, member of the Jackson family, or not, wardrobe malfunctions will get you. So guys, don't judge us too harshly and we'll return the favor.

Try Not to Send Him (Her) Running Back to the Ex

2007-07-17T19:30:00.000-04:00

Anyone else notice I've been the offender in these latest posts?

Date 1:

Context: He's an alum from a local college, one which many of my high school classmates attended. We play the name game.

"So who did you hang out with from my school?" I ask.

He begins, "Well, I knew Scott ____."

"Oh, right right. I remember him."

"Let's see. Jessica _____."

"Sure. Sure." I nod.

"Oh, and there's Brian _____."

Thinking, I respond, "Hmm. Can't quite place him."

"And Michelle _____."

"Oh my God! You know Michelle? She and I used to hang out back in the day. She is definitely one of the nicest people I've ever met. This one time, in sixth grade......" Diarrhea of the mouth ensues as Ken politely nods and 'mmm hmms' and 'uhh huhs' at the right times. Finally wrapping up my story, I finish with, "Anyway, I just remember her being such a great person."

"Yeah."

Fast forward to Date 3:

Context: Discussing high school reunions

I offer information on my own reunion, "I went to my ten year a couple years ago. It was ok. There were a lot of people I would have liked to see who didn't show. Oh! But, you know who did? Michelle! And boy, she looks great! Sounds like she's doing well too. She's living in North Carolina and is pretty successful. It was great to see her."

Looking slightly uncomfortable, Ken says, "(Dauntless), uh, I don't know how to tell you this, but Michelle and I dated for about two years."

Firmly clasping my jaw shut so it doesn't hit the floor, I reply with a clipped, "Oh." What the fuuuuuck? Stupid, stupid, stupid. "Well, you know, she didn't look that great."

Fast forward to the day after Date 3:

As if the wound needed salt, I decided to pull out my high school year book to look up Michelle's picture. While flipping to her name, I came across the "Best" section. There she was. In full color. Voted 'best personality' by a senior class of over 500.

Well, at least I was right about her. She was cool.

Dating is Scary Enough...

2007-07-02T09:15:00.000-04:00

without adding your own thrill seeking to the event. I found this out while on a rather boring date.

Mid-drink, I had to go to the ladies room. I politely excused myself, relieved that I had a break from hearing about my date's learning disabilities. I passed one out-of-order bathroom, and descended the stairs to visit the other ladies room. As I approached the narrow hallway encompassing a single ladies room and a single men's room, I saw the line. Three women waiting and zero men. Typical.

2 minutes pass...still three women in front of me.

3 minutes pass...woman number three decides she can hold it and drops out of line. Sweet. One man goes into his restroom.

5 minutes pass...first woman emerges from the restroom, now one stands between me and relief. Man comes out of his bathroom, comments, "This one's free." (Mental light bulb beams above Dauntless' head) This will add some excitement to the date.

I grin and shrug to the woman waiting in front of me and make a beeline for the men's room. Once inside, I decide I am crazy to do this in a restaurant/bar at 7:30 at night. After all, the patrons aren't even buzzing yet. My pulse quickens after I turn back to the door and push the lock. Nothing. Fuck! But I can't retreat now. I've made a commitment.

I hold the door shut with one foot as I squat and push my pee like I was Katherine Heigl. As the door handle begins to jingle, a bead of sweat forms on my forehead, but my foot holds firm and the jingling stops.

I quickly flush and wash, taking a second to wipe the sweat off my face. As I slink out of the bathroom, I give the shocked old man outside the door a sheepish grin, pass the ladies line (with the woman who was in front of me still crossing her legs in line), and head upstairs.

Realizing how many things could have gone wrong on my mini-adventure, I rejoin my date, patting my own back because I really got away with one this time.

A couple of minutes into our new conversation about home improvement, I bring my index finger and thumb about an inch apart to explain the size of the threshold between my kitchen and dining room. When I glance at my hand, I am horrified to realize it is shaking uncontrollably. I close my fist and try again. The hand seizure resumes.

My date raises his eyebrows at the recognition of my nerves, no doubt thinking his good looks and charm are to blame.

I can do nothing but put my hand back in my lap and say, "Anyway, the threshold is about an inch high." and make a mental note not to visit the men's room on my next date.

Men, may I recommend not using the ladies room on your next date?

Look Before You Leap (or sit)

2007-06-19T21:51:00.000-04:00

I remember this movie from when I was a kid. The one where the guy tells his buddy that the way you know a girl is a keeper is if after you let her in the car, she unlocks your door for you.

Needing all the help I can get, I've lived by this rule for the past 15 years. Until last week, when I got distracted.

Date #2: We hug hello and begin chatting easily. He leads me to the passenger side of the car, unlocking it and letting me in. Impressed with his chivalry, I look up at him and smile as I slide into the seat. Crunch.

Immediately my grin drops as my heart begins to beat wildly. What the? I turn, reach under my ass, and grab hold of a mangled pair of sunglasses. As I begin to wrap my mind around what I have done, I look up and see my date fumbling with his key. Before I can react, he is in and he is looking at the destruction in my hand.

Shit.

Always Be Prepared

2007-05-29T21:06:00.000-04:00

Let me tell you about my Safeway. It's small, crowded, and regularly out of the necessary ingredients. It caters to singles, but more so the widowed kind than the 20/30 something kind. But it's across the street. So I go. Often.

After a quick shower, I realize I need some things from the Safeway. Hair barely brushed and dripping, I dash out of the house, sans even a stitch of makeup.

I grab a basket on the way in and begin examining the fruits and vegetables when I see a cutie by the oranges. He walks by, not a glance in my direction. Hmm. He must be in a hurry (Suuure Dauntless).

I see him again in the pasta aisle and he's heading straight for me. Alright boy, you better believe I'm gonna say hello to you. Mmm Mmm. Big smile Dauntless, big smile. "Hi."

"Hey".

Now we're heading in opposite directions, me smiling to myself, very proud of saying hello and hoping to see him again in the bread aisle. Still patting myself on the back, I arrive in the frozen food section.

Searching for some cherry popsicles, my focus shifts and I catch a glimpse of my reflection. There I am, in all my frizzy, pale glory, staring back at me. I am a mess. I proceeded to spend the next five minutes acting like I can't choose which damn popsicles I want while I use the glass door to desperately twist up my hair and pinch my cheeks.

Alas, it was all for naught. My chance had come and gone.

Always be prepared.

Get Noticed. Even if it's not Pretty.

2007-05-13T18:11:00.000-04:00

Recently, one warm spring evening, “Riley” and I joined the throngs of neighbors already walking their Fidos and Muffins around the community for some much needed exercise. I diligently clicked and treated Riley, hoping to break her of her pulling and jumping habits as her trainer had instructed.

Inhaling the sweet smell of lilacs, I floated along, content as could be. That is, until I saw him. The good-looking neighbor from down the road. His arms were weighted down with groceries and he was 30 feet away and closing in.

My heart began to pound as I mentally reviewed what I would say,

“Hi” No, my nerves will make it sound too high-pitched.

20 feet.

“What’s up?” No. Too casual.

10 feet.

Shit! What should I say? “Hey”. I’ll say hey.

5 feet.

Just as I opened my mouth to form the greeting I had decided on, the slack in the leash became taut and I realized in horror that Riley had decided on a greeting of her own. Ignoring the treat in my left hand, she leapt up on the handsome stranger, front paws landing squarely on his stomach.

“Ooof”.

I immediately admonished Riley, but was too flustered to mutter an apology for her (probably because I hadn’t recited it).

After we were a safe distance away, I glanced at the handsome stranger’s retreating form, turned to Riley, and whispered, “Good girl.”

Something Else Borrowed

2007-04-25T22:50:00.000-04:00

So you made it through your first date. Cool. You've asked her out again and she said 'yes'. Awesome! Now, no stalking allowed for at least the next thirty-two hours.

Sunday 2:00pm:

Eleanor: Well Vince, I had a nice time, thanks.
Vince: Me too. Would you like to do it again sometime?
Eleanor: Yeah. I'd like that.
Vince: Great. I'll call you later.
Eleanor: Bye.

Sunday 9:00pm:

Eleanor begins to get organized for her week and starts by opening her email:

YOU HAVE MAIL. Seeing it's from Vince, she opens it curiously,

Eleanor, I wanted to say again what a wonderful time I had today. I'll call you later, Vince

That was sweet, she thinks as she motions her mouse to click 'close'.

Monday 8:15pm:

Eleanor, exhausted from a long day at work, walks through the door and tosses her bag on the couch. While on her way to let the dog out back, she hits 'play' on her feverishly blinking machine.

The robotic voice responds, "First message. Sent. Today. At. 3:00 pm:"

Hi Eleanor, it's Vince. I hope you got my email last night, I didn't hear back from you. Just wanted to let you know that I was thinking about you and I'm looking forward to our next date.

"Next message. Sent. Today. At. 5:30 pm:"

Eleanor, it's Vince. I haven't heard back from you, so I just wanted to make sure we're still on for our next date. Later.

"Next message. Sent. Today. At. 8:00 pm:"

Eleanor, look, if you didn't want to go out with me, you could have just said so. I don't think I want to date anyone so inconsiderate anyway.

Monday 8:30pm:

Energy renewed by Vince's audacity, Eleanor quickly opens her computer and begins pecking furiously,

Vince, I didn't let you know sooner because I didn't realize it until now. We won't be going out again. Eleanor.

~Thanks Ei

Ask, Don't Tell

2007-04-22T11:22:00.000-04:00

I wrote a post a few months back titled, Don't Ask, Don't Tell. In that case, a guy asked me to a fancy dinner, then told me to pay. More recently I have learned that some guys need to learn to ask, not tell.

I met Bob at a bar not far from my home. After talking for a while, we discovered that we lived in the same complex. The area's great. Lots of grass and trees, with a path along a river perfect for biking and running. Shortly after discovering we were neighbors, Bob became a perfect candidate not for my heart, but my blog.

Bob: You live there? I just moved into that neighborhood. I live on the corner near the water.

Me: Oh yeah? The neighborhood's great. You'll love it.

Bob: Yeah. I like that bike path down there. Do you have a bike?

Me: Yep.

Bob: Tell you what. You bring your bike down my way and we'll go for a ride together.

Me: Hmm. That sounded a bit arrogant. What happened to asking? Maybe I'll tell him about the last time I rode a bike. That'll be a turn off. I'm not much of a bike rider these days. the last time I rode my bike, I actually had to get off of it and walk it up a hill! (yes, sad, but true)

Bob: Wow, that's pretty bad.

Me: Good. It worked.

Bob: Well then, bring your running shoes down and we'll go for a run instead.

Me: Shit. Another statement. How do I say no to a statement? I've got to go to the bathroom. See you later.

Ok, so my exit was neither kind nor graceful. But, If you're telling me what to do and we don't even know each other, that red flag negates all rules of engagement.

The Gambler

2007-04-15T20:23:00.000-04:00

Rolling the dice in Vegas, fun. Rolling the dice on Match, not so fun. When communicating and subsequently going out with a woman whose picture you have never seen, you need to know your odds. Consider me your bookie.

If a guy doesn't have his picture posted, women know it's because he's 1. married, or 2. ugly. If a woman doesn't have her picture posted, it's because she's 1. ugly 2. married.

After a friend got burned on his fourth photo-less dated, one of my girls laid it out for him better than I ever could: "C'mon. It's not like her picture's not on there because she's too hot!"

Gamble all you want men, but don't be surprised when you leave the table empty-handed. Your odds of being happy with your date are about 10,000 to 1. After all, the House always wins.

~Thanks KJ

Try Not to Remind Me of a Horror Film

2007-04-11T21:10:00.000-04:00

I went out with 'Carlos', a fellow dog owner, not too long ago. Now, I can't claim to be the best dog owner in the world, but I can assure you I'm better than Carlos.

Here's how I found out:

"Yeah, my life changed a lot after my accident. It sucked trying to get around with broken ribs."

"That had to be awful," I replied.

"Yeah. Especially because I lived on the second floor. My poor dog had to put up with the worst of it though."

"Your dog? Why's that?"

"Well, I couldn't really go up and down the stairs to let him out. So, I tied a rope to a bucket..."

Wait a minute. This sounds familiar.

Carlos continued, "I stuck my little pup in the bucket and lowered him down. Then he would hop out and do his business. Besides a couple of close calls, it worked out alright."

Ok, so he wasn't exactly luring the dog into a well to hold him ransom, but it still kind of creeped me out. Why not just get a dog walker Carlos?

Something Borrowed, Something Bribed

2007-03-22T20:38:00.000-04:00

I have a confession to make. The Dauntless Dater has been neither dauntless nor dating as of late.

In order to get both my blog and myself through this rough patch, I've enlisted the help of a close friend. Or rather, the help of her bad date...

15 minutes in:

Boy: I just got back from Africa and I drank the best tea there. Have you ever had African tea?

Girl: No, I haven't.

Boy: Well, you will just have to go out with me again and I'll bring you some. It's delicious!

50 minutes in:

Girl: Yeah, I started reading The Corner, but I accidentally dropped it in the bathtub and now it's too big and bloated to read.

Boy: That sucks! Lucky for you, I have a copy of The Corner. Now you'll have to go out with me again to get the tea and the book!

1 hr 25 minutes in:

Girl: Oh, I love red wine.

Boy: Me too! Geez, you really have to go out with me again and I'll bring you the tea, The Corner, and the wine!

1 minute after the date:

Girl: Tell you what, I'll do you one better. If you don't go out with me again, I'll let you keep all your shit!

Leave the bribery at the office guys.

Gee Steve, you sure know how to make a girl feel special

2007-03-08T19:04:00.000-05:00

Steve wrote to me on March 5th. His email went something like this,

"I liked your profile. I'm a nice guy. I'm the kind of guy who opens car doors. I'd even text you to say, 'I'm just texting you to let you know I'm thinking of you.' That's just the type of guy I am. I'd really like to hear from you just to get to know you."

Steve emailed me again today, March 8th. His email went something like this,

"I liked your profile. I'm a nice guy. I'm the kind of guy who opens car doors. I'd even text you to say, 'I'm just texting you to let you know I'm thinking of you.' That's just the type of guy I am. I'd really like to hear from you just to get to know you."

All right buddy. Heard you the first time. No need to say it twice.

So what?

2007-03-06T19:06:00.000-05:00

So what if you haven't been out on a date in two months?

So what if you just signed up for a new dating service because you couldn't stand the last one, but now you aren't getting as many emails and winks as you expected, so you keep checking to make sure your internet connection is working?

So what if admitting to someone that you're online dating feels like you're admitting you're a leper trying to find other lepers who will agree to have leprosy with you?

So what if you always tried hard to pretend your ex was pining for you from afar, but you just found out he's (I mean she's, of course) dating someone new, and they're probably snuggled up on the couch while you stare at your computer screen hoping to find someone other than your dog to love?

None of this makes you a freak. It makes you human. And be glad that you aren't settling for anyone. Especially that ex. Because frankly, he..damn it, she...wasn't all that anyway.

If you're not constantly looking, you're not doing it right

2007-02-27T20:42:00.000-05:00

I've heard this advice often, and I must say I follow it regularly. I look for unexpected opportunities everywhere.

One such opportunity arose for me as I sat completing paperwork at my dining room table.

"To the left, to the left, everything you own in a box to the left!" I belted out to new favorite song on my V-Day cd.

Shift Shift. I barely heard the dishes in the sink settling as I continued my duet with Beyonce.

Rustle Rustle Shift.

Hmm. That's weird. Dishes don't sound like that.

Rustle Rustle Shift CRASH. I got up to investigate what in the world was going on in the kitchen. The walls were thin and the neighbors were probably cooking in their own kitchen.

Rustle Rustle.

Sounds like it's under the sink. In the cabinet.

Cluelessly, I opened the cabinet door and immediately spotted a fluffy brown tail jumping around my bottle of Windex.

"AHHH!" I slammed the cabinet shut with a bang and ran back out to the living room just as my hunting dog came to investigate why I was making such a fuss.

I quickly grabbed her leash and my phone and ran outside. A killer squirrel was under my kitchen sink. I was not going to hang around and wait for it to push open a heavy wooden door to attack me!

As I called my father from the front yard, he assured me the squirrel was trapped and told me to go back in.

"Back in? Are you crazy?"

"It can't get you. Just go back in. You need to get the number for animal control. They'll send somebody out to trap it."

"Really?"

"Yes. Now go get the phone book. Call the non-emergency police number."

"Why the police?"

"Because they'll send an animal control officer out."

"You mean the animal control officer is a real police officer?"

"Yes. Now go back in."

"Alright. Thanks dad. I'll call you later."

Hmm. A real police officer? As in uniform, buzz cut, and gun? Sweet.

All cowardice forgotten at the prospect of having a hottie in my house, I bolted upstairs to my place and barged in. Dad was right. The squirrel was not getting out. I called animal control and was told someone would be over within the hour.

The next 30 minutes were a frenzy of clothes flying, brushes brushing, and makeup doing its thing. Next was the house. I couldn't let a police officer show up with the house a mess! Brooms, sponges, Swiffers. Soon both the house and myself were presentable.

In all of my frantic preparation, It took me a while to realize that I hadn't heard anything from under the kitchen sink in 20 minutes. Uh oh. I hope he doesn't show up and charge me with filing a false police report instead of asking me on a date!

BZZZZ.

He's here. Oh my God!

I buzzed the animal control officer up to my place, heart pumping at the prospect...

Ten minutes later I had good news for you and good news for me.

The good news for me was that my squirrel had gone back out the hole he came in. And I was able to patch it up.

The good news for you? While the animal control officer wasn't really my type, she was cute.

I figure some guy in the general area could benefit from that information. Now all you have to do is catch my squirrel.

And for those of you who don't live near me, I can only offer this advice: be looking. Always be looking. Even if it means you make an ass of yourself. No one will know but the readers of your blog.

Top Ten Reasons to Love Valentine's Day Even if You're Single

2007-02-14T19:46:00.000-05:00

10. Your dog is so damn happy to see you, she does her five foot vertical leap. And, she's got a good two inches on the last guy who emailed you.

9. Your mom felt so sorry for you, she sent you a card and a 20 spot.

8. One of your students wrote you a poem,
Roses are red,
Violets are blue.
If teachers were irons,
I'd buy you.

7. You're not so bitter that you can't make a great V-Day cd with love songs on it (as long as the second half of the cd is break up songs).

6. You get the night off from the gym because you don't want anyone there thinking you're not on some mid-week getaway.

5. Celeste makes the best pizzas for one.

4. You can read the Time article about the fact that single people are actually happier than those who are married (At least I think that's what he was trying to say. There were a lot of statistics).

3. Ladies: You've got your period and it's not interfering with a damn thing.
Gentlemen: The Sports Illustrated Swimsuit issue will be here any day now.

2. Since only those in serious relationships are out tonight, you get a night off from bad dates!

And the number one reason to love Valentine's Day if you're single...

1. The Mother F'ing day is almost over.

It probably won't work out if...

2007-02-03T09:28:00.000-05:00

She asks about your dog and you tell her about your ex-wife.

During the course of your first date you mention hunting someone down and killing them.

She tells her mother your name is Carl, but it's really Carlos.

You separated from your wife a month prior to your first date.

During the initial courting, you bring up the topic of nicknames for a cat's penis.

And,

It probably won't work out if when she tells you she's going to bed, the following conversation ensues:

"Lucky," you tell her.

"Yeah. I'm pretty tired." she replies.

To which you add, "No, I mean you're lucky because you get to go to bed with you."

Instead of getting a second date, you'll probably just make her stomach lurch.

Beware the Overly Confident Syndrome

2007-01-22T09:34:00.000-05:00

Confidence is a good thing. Those who possess it are usually quite successful (i.e. Hillary Clinton, Peyton Manning, Meryl Streep).

However, being overly confident can lead to making assumptions that you're above the fray, ultimately leading to your downfall (i.e. Donald Rumsfeld, Tony Romo, Tom Cruise).

Daters sometimes become overly confident, especially online daters. And it's easy to do.

Every day, there's your inbox, overflowing with girls. Short girls, tall girls, thin girls, wide girls, blond girls, redheaded girls, exotic girls, girls-next-door girls. And they all have one thing in common. They're interested in you. You begin to feel unstoppable. You remember gaping wide-eyed at the television as a kid, wishing you could grow up to be Superman. And you have. But lucky you, Lois Lane has multiplied by 100.

I went out with a man who was feeling a bit like Superman. However, he hid it well on the date and we had a nice evening.

After the date, Superman emailed me to tell me that he had a nice time. That's when he made the mistake of believing his own hype...

"I must apologize for my manners in not walking you home. I don't know what the heck I was thinking! Anyway, I didn't want to end the evening with any decisions that would have dampened our spirits."

What? Did he really assume I'd sleep with him just for walking me home?

It's ok to be confident. Hell, it's ok to be overly confident and think you can bed every woman who crosses your path. However, you must hide the overly confident thoughts. Truth is, in the dating game, you are not above the fray. Every one of your Lois Lanes has at least 200 Supermen in her inbox.

Whatthefuckdidhejustsay?

2007-01-09T20:20:00.000-05:00

"I broke it off with her a month before the wedding."

Eyebrows raised I replied, "Really?"

"Yeah. It was an awful thing to do. I should have broken it off earlier, but it's better than if we had gotten married and then realized it was a mistake."

"Huh. So how did you finally decide to break it off?" (Hey, he went there. I was just following.)

"Well, I knew for a while that it wasn't going well. She was an anxious girl, not really my type. But, I had met her when I first moved here and we just kind of fell into a pattern. Anyway, it was actually her mom who nudged me into finally ending it."

"Really? That's weird. How did that happen?"

"Well, a few months earlier, I had become really close to her mom. See, her mom had been in a really horrible accident and was in the hospital for a month. I would visit her and help take care of her." Awww!

He continued, "We'd talk a lot while I was brushing her hair, clipping her nails, and bathing her..." Whatthefuckdidhejustsay?

I tried to listen to the rest of his story, but the vision of my hot date sponging off a middle-aged woman - whose daughter he saw naked on a regular basis - was so overwhelming, it effected my hearing ability. And although I missed the end of his tale, I assume it went something like this "Turns out, her mom was the one who was into me!"

Hey guys, don't bring up the time you sponge-bathed your girlfriend's mom. Duh.

New Year, Old Lines

2007-01-02T19:00:00.000-05:00

If your pick up lines are anything like the ones I heard on New Years, getting new game should be your number one resolution...

Fat Bastard: "Hey baby. I can tell you're an older woman. That's hot. What are you, 36?" 29 you fat bastard.

Ample Alcohol, Limited English: "I'm rich. I'm very very rich. You can have whatever you want. This bartender loves me." Ample Alcohol, Limited English was physically thrown out of the bar about 10 minutes later.

Drunk Girl: "Scores is much better than that other place. The women are totally hotter. Hey, I know! Let's go to a strip club!" I may have had a rough year with men honey, but I ain't going down that road.

She Didn't Lose her Phone

2007-01-02T18:21:00.000-05:00

I'm a stable girl. Really, I am. I don't mope and whine about men and my lack thereof. I don't panic at the thought of going to a wedding without a date. And you'll never hear me shrieking, "Why Me?"

That said, today I had an irrational moment I mistook for a rational one.

About a week ago, I went out on a great date. He was flirting, I was flirting. Before the first date ended, he was asking me out on a second. He called and text messaged after date one. He seemed pretty interested. I, on the other hand, (rational girl that I am) did not get all, "He's the one" and whatnot.

Well, I'm sorry to say, Mr. Great Date stopped calling. Before he even had a chance to become Mr. Great Second Date.

Oh well. These things happen, right? That's what I told myself until a sudden thought occurred to me, I bet he lost his phone!

After about 20 seconds envisioning him calling out my name while searching the rain-soaked sewer for his phone, I realized how irrational I was being.

It's not the easiest thing to wrap your mind around. But guys, if she doesn't call, it ain't cause she done lost her phone!

Tivo Trouble

2006-12-20T19:26:00.000-05:00

You invited her over to watch a movie. She has graciously accepted. In preparation, you've cleaned the house, chilled the wine, and popped the popcorn.

She arrives, comments on your nice apartment, and shakes off the cold as she settles next to you on the nice warm couch.

As you snuggle in with a glass of red wine and the bag of popcorn, you hit your Tivo button to retrieve the movie you recorded with her in mind. As you flip through the selections, carrying on about the accolades the movie received, she watches the television. Unexpectedly, she raises her eyebrows. You tear your gaze away from her long enough to see what caused the reaction.

And there it is. Highlighted in all it's glory.

"Hotel Erotica"

Awww, shit.

So gentlemen (and ladies), while you're scrubbing and dusting, preparing for her arrival, please remember that your best friend Tivo also needs a spit shine every now and again.

Note: I will neither confirm nor deny being the offender in this scenario.

The Crazy Quoter

2006-12-16T08:55:00.000-05:00

If you were a fly on the wall listening to a conversation between Crazy Quoter and myself, you would have heard me say, "Huh?" at least once every five minutes.

That's because CQ would recite some obscure quote about that often. He was doing more explaining what he was talking about than actually forming original thoughts!

Here's what a night with Crazy Quoter was like...

As he left for the bathroom...
"If I'm not back in 5 minutes, wait longer." (Ace Ventura)

What the hell is this guy talking about?

When he went up to get a beer...
"I'm gonna make him an offer he can't refuse." (The Godfather)

Are you kidding me?

As I went to the bathroom...
"Leave the gun. Take the cannoli." (Godfather again)

Am I on a date or am I watching some Twilight Zone episode?

After someone at another table dropped a beer bottle...
"Don't worry. The pledges will clean it up." (Old School)

(Looking around) Is anyone else witnessing this??

At the end of the night, I got into it...and I'll admit, it was kind of fun.

Instead of using my go-to "I had a nice time, but I don't think we have a lot in common," I went with, "Hasta la vista baby."

Things that Cling

2006-12-14T19:46:00.000-05:00

Static clings to clothes,
Boogers cling to the end of your nose.

Pollution clings to create smog,
Fleas cling to the side of my dog.

Dirt clings in the form of mud,
Leeches cling to suck your blood.

Things that cling sure do blow
Especially when that thing's Joe Schmo.

So don't you ask me to spend,
Three dates with you in one weekend.

I ain't your girl, your mom, your shrink.
I've only known you for a drink!

Beware the Over-Analyzer

2006-12-06T20:53:00.000-05:00

I am certainly an over-analyzer. Need proof? Read my last post.

Most women do analyze. A lot. So guys, you really should be thinking about what you're writing.

But ladies, apparently we aren't the only ones who analyze. God love me, I've been typing away, click, clack, click, clack, not thinking any of these guys are doing too much reading between the lines. Apparently I was wrong.

Here's what went down.

'Jon': Would you like to meet for happy hour one night?

Me: That sounds good. Where would you like to go?

Jon: How about Zula?

My Train of Thought: Ok. Let's see. Zula's in DC. Monday and Tuesday are too soon. I'm busy on Wednesday, and have a late afternoon meeting on Thursday. I can't get there by happy hour, but maybe by 8:00.

Me: How about we meet there at 8:00 on Thursday?

What Jon read: Oh no you're not just taking me out for happy hour! At 8:00, I want dinner. Then I'll take one carat, two kids, and a three car garage.

Surprisingly, I haven't heard from Jon about that drink.

Profilese

2006-11-30T20:13:00.000-05:00

I've never considered myself much of a linguist. Four years of high school Spanish left me with the ability to ask for a beer (Thank God). However, I have recently become fluent in the newest of languages, Profilese.

Profilese: I like a girl who is not afraid to be treated well.
Translation: I will smother you.

Profilese: I'm very focused on my career.
Translation: I'm rich.

Profilese: I'm looking for a partner in crime.
Translation: I use cliches on a regular basis.

Profilese: I'm young at heart.

Unfortunately, this statement does not translate literally. Possibilities differ depending on context.

Possible Translations:
I'm old.
I'm immature
I'm the same guy who used the other cliche.

Oops. I Did it Again.

2006-11-18T09:21:00.000-05:00

Sometimes I think I'm better off reading dating advice than writing it.

My latest discovery: Know your audience.

I met "Ben" out for drinks at a local bar. Kind of a straight-laced guy. Put together, High-tech, successful. You name it. We had a fairly good time. Good enough for me to agree to give him my number...

"So, I had a good time. Think you'd like to go out again?" Ben asked.

"Sure. That sounds good." I said.

"Ok. Let me get your number." he said.

"Ok."

At this point, Ben took out his blackberry and proceeded to fumble around with the teeny tiny pointer and the teeny tiny buttons.

"Oh Shoot. Damn! This thing...." he remarked.

At which point I chimed in (think flirtatious smartass), "You know, if that was a pencil and paper, you would have had my number by now."

"Yeah. So what is it?"

I gave Ben my number, but he never used it. I guess he was thinking bitchy snob instead of flirtatious smartass.

So, in order to prevent your joke from bombing like an IED, know your audience.

Holy Sh*t!

2006-11-13T19:29:00.000-05:00

Sincerity is rare to be able to pinpoint online, but "Matt" seemed to have it.

We agreed to meet for a drink at a local coffee shop. Following my own advice, I reread his profile before going out and noticed that he was in graduate school, but didn't list what he was studying. Perfect. I had a go-to conversation starter.

In person, Matt's sincerity and kindness were the first things I noticed. So far, so good.

Then came a lull in the conversation.

"So I saw you were in grad school?"

"Yes. And you're a teacher, right? How's that?"

Oh no you d'iint just avoid my question.

"Oh, it's good. You know. Rewarding, but sometimes a pain in the ass. So what are you studying?"

"I'm getting my Master's in Divinity."

Huh?

"Oh? And what do you do with a Master's in Divinity?"

"You become a priest."

WHAT THE???

"Ahhh. Hmmmm." Think. think. "Wow." Think damn it! "That's certainly interesting!"

"Yeah. I'm going to become an Episcopalian priest though. That's why I can be out on a date."

Hey man, a priest is a priest.

The date proceeded with my learning more about God than about Matt.

As I left the date in a giggling state of shock, a thought suddenly occured to me, Shit! If he ends up calling me and I have to turn down a priest, exactly how many Hail Mary's do I need to say for that?

Sincerity and kindness are great traits, but so is being upfront and honest.

Premature E-clickulation

2006-11-01T20:41:00.000-05:00

GASP! Uh oh. Oh no. What did I do? This is so weird. What do I say? Should I apologize? Do I act like there's nothing wrong? Ahhh!

I had the above conversation with myself while shopping for a boyfriend just a few minutes ago.

I was checking out this guy's profile and started clicking on his pictures. He looked alright, so I started reading his write up. Engaged in the reading, I tried to scroll down, but had no luck.

Scroll the f' down you mf'er!

I was not in the best of moods.

Oh, you have to click back on the profile to read it, you dumbass.

As my multi-tasking female brain began to find where I left off in the reading, I clicked on the profile. Then it disappeared.

What the?

And this appeared:

IT'S OFFICIAL! YOU HAVE WINKED AND HE KNOWS YOU'RE INTERESTED!

Premature e-clickulation. It's never comfortable and it's always a problem.

Read Up On...

2006-10-21T16:33:00.000-04:00

third grade grammar and spelling. It's never good when your recipient is thinking, How did my little brother get on this site?

Unfortunately, this post was too late for one of my suitors...

"Hello and good after noon to you. I am new at this so I am not sure how to start off about what to say about my self. I am a single white male, 30, non-smoker. I Have no kids but would like to have some oneday when I meet the right person. I do have a phone that I can send you if you like. Just let me know what e-mail you would like me to send it to."

Well, his grammar and spelling might suck, but I could certainly use a Motorolla.

Don't Ask, Don't Tell.

2006-10-15T18:44:00.000-04:00

Yeah, yeah. I know the slogan's taken. But it's not really effective in the military, so I'd like to have it applied to dating situations such as this...

'Tom' and I have emailed a couple of times and he asks me if I'd like to go out.

"Sure. Sounds great. How about we meet up Friday evening?" Note the use of the term 'meet up'.

"Ok. How does Old Town sound?"

"Perfect."

"I know a great Italian restaurant we can go to."

A what? Italian restaurant? Do people really go out to fancy restaurants on their first date?

"Oh. Ok. How does 7:00 sound?"

"Great. See you then."

At this point, I'm still pondering what happened: A restaurant?

Date night

6:50: Shit. I'm gong to be late. I'll just park in this garage. $11! That's bullshit.

6:58: Whew! Made it. I'm glad he suggested meeting on the corner. It's always awkward walking in and looking around for the guy.

7:05: Uh oh. Is this the right corner?

7:10: What the hell? This is definitely the right corner.

7:15: For the love of God! Is my phone working? Maybe I should get out of here.

7:18: "Oh, hey Tom, how are you?" "Oh, no problem!" Lord, this date already sucks.

Tom and I proceed to have a very long and very awkward dinner. Eventually the check arrives.

"Well, that was delicious." Being polite, I begin to reach into my purse. "How much do I owe you?"

"Oh. That's ok. It's on me."

Putting my wallet away, "Well, thank you."

Tom reneging, "Uh, oh, well, if you want to..."

Me, irritated as hell, "No problem."

Now, don't get me wrong. I have no opposition to paying for my own dinner. I am, after all, the one who ate it. However, there are certain situations in which it should be clear who is paying.

Bottom line, don't ask a girl out to a fancy dinner on a first date. But if you must, then don't tell her to pay.

Don't Ask, Don't Tell.

It's ok if you're from another country,

2006-10-06T16:39:00.001-04:00

but if you want to flirt with girls who speak English, please have a working knowledge of the language.

"hello baby, how are you and the out going things in your area?good look catch the eyes and personalty catch the heart and you are blessed with but,flattered dont be.am ______ by name.i think i really adore you and i really want to get to know you,cos i belive we could be of use to each other.i shall be glad if you could send me your email address.am looking forward to hearing from you.my id are..."

Sweet talker that he is, I decided not to write back.

Lyin' Lyle

2006-10-06T16:39:00.000-04:00

When I first started dating online, I was told: ‘Be careful. The men on there lie about everything. Their height, their job, their income…’

As you can tell, I certainly don’t think all the men online are perfect, but I haven’t actually run into many liars. Until one busted himself.

About six months ago, I got an email from a guy who sounded on the up and up. But, he didn’t have a photo posted. If you’ve been reading this blog, you know I’m not much for men who don’t post their photos. They can only be described with one word, married. Well, this guy sent me a link to look at some pictures of him. In my book, that still means married, but I looked anyway.

Fast forward to an email I received last week. It’s from a guy who sounds pretty cool, but has no photo. At the end of the email he says, “Anyway, since I literally just signed up and my pictures aren't up yet, you can view them through the link below.”

Hmm. This sounds familiar. Copy. Paste. Enter.

Busted. It’s him alright. Lyin’ Lyle. Lucky for him, I’m not Bitchy Becky so I won’t be posting his link.

When Creating a Profile Name...

2006-09-29T20:31:00.000-04:00

Avoid these common pitfalls men I encounter seem to fall into.

Cheesiness:

Fishing4U
Zeeonlynormal1

And creepiness:

Clbnfreak
Teaseroffemales
Thebluepill

And please, please refrain from comparing yourself to 50 Cent's penis, something

Magicstiq

was unable to do.

Bitter Bob

2006-09-29T19:38:00.000-04:00

Bitter Bob. What a pain in the ass he is! And, he's easy to spot. He says things like...

'All the women I've met lately are in to playing games.'

And...

'Why do women say they like sports when they really don't?'

Or, my favorite,

'You won't give me your number? How are you supposed to meet anyone if you won't give them your number?'

After months without contact, the Bitter Bob I refused to give the digits to writes again and says...

"Have you ever met anyone? You've been on here for a long time with that same pic. Get some new ones!"

I almost sent him a link to this blog to show him that I have, indeed, met many men...it's just that most of them have been losers. And that he made the latest post.

God's Gift

2006-09-21T19:35:00.000-04:00

I know my last blog was about Mass Mailers, but I just got this one, and it's too good not to share right away. And, for the sake of this blog, I'm actually contemplating going out with this guy to see how bad it gets.

Here's his exact email:

"It takes a lot to catch my eye; hence I hope you are flattered by my email. Should you feel any initial chemistry too, I look forward to hearing from you soon! Depending on your preference, we can talk and/or meet for dinner/drinks. Let me know what you think!"

I should be flattered? I am truly sorry dear reader, that you don't have the advantage of seeing this man's photo. To help you picture him, I want you to think of a Mr. Potato Head with his features in all the wrong places. That's him!

Guys, I don't care if you're looking like Clive Owen or Steve Buscemi, don't act like you are God's gift to me. He wouldn't send me something I'd want to return.

They're Baaack!

2006-09-13T21:18:00.000-04:00

Remember the Mass Mailer? That little f'er who thinks he can send a hundred women the same 'personal' email and we'll never know it's a fake? Well, some man somewhere must be telling all his buddies about his brilliant idea, because it's spreading like the clap! Here's some of the best ones I've seen lately...

Mr. Maybe-insulting-your-town-will-get-me-in-your-pants Mass Mailer:

You have "a lack of pretense I find compelling (if not downright rare in this area)."

Looks like I'm the only one around here lacking any pretense. Delete.

Mr. I-swear-I'm-not-married-and-looking-for-a-one-night-stand Mass Mailer:

"I'm in from Australia for the next month or so...I'm happy to send a photo should you wish to see one. I have had problems uploading them onto the site, but should be able to send it to a yahoo account or something similar."

Please! Rapping Granny could upload a photo. Delete.

Mr. I'm-too-cool-for-school Mass Mailer:

"From your words alone, it sounds like you're someone who can more than hold your own on any level, conversationally or intellectually, which is actually a bit of a lost art these days."

The only thing that's lost around here is this email. Delete.

Mr. You're-definitely-the-0ne Mass Mailer:

"Hi. It is so nice to read a profile by someone that I really believe could be a true match for myself!" And later, " You are exactly why I signed up for this!"

This has to be someone f'ing with me! Delete.

This mass mailing has got to stop. Spread the know people!

Reread!

2006-09-06T19:17:00.000-04:00

This next blunder was not the fault of any of the poor guys I've dated whose stories are now on this blog. No, the clueless offender was none other than yours truly. Yep. Shit happens.

Picture this:

"Todd" and I have been emailing clever little emails back and forth. He's very good looking and when he asks me out, I'm really excited. So excited in fact, that I show his profile to my girlfriends so we can talk about how perfect he sounds.

Finally, date night arrives and I begin my first date ritual. The normal routine involves playing with the dog (I feel guilty leaving her for some guy), getting showered and changed, and reading up on my date's profile and emails. This last step is important just in case we're in need of a conversation starter.

Unfortunately, a series of events lead to my rushing this particular night. First, the dog and I get caught up in a conversation with a long-winded neighbor. Then, I get a couple of phone calls while I'm getting ready. Finally, I'm able to dash out of the house looking presentable, but unable to complete my last task, rereading his info.

Miraculously, I arrive at the meeting spot with a couple of minutes to spare, so I mentally go over everything I know about him. Went to New Zealand. Check. Has a sister in Chicago. Check. Mother is a teacher. Check.

Todd shows up looking nice, apologizing for being so dressed up. Apparently he went right from work to see his friend's newborn baby in the hospital. Awww.

We get right to talking and things are going well. After the waitress takes our second drink order, it's time for a new conversation.

Me: So, your mom's a teacher, right?
Todd: Uh, no.
Me: (making it worse) Really? I could have sworn you said she was a teacher.
Todd: Nope. She and my dad own a clothing store. She taught for a couple of years before I was born though.
Me: (really making it worse) Oh. Maybe that's what I remember.
Todd: I don't think so. I don't think I've mentioned that in our conversations.
Me: Oh. Sorry.

Yeah. It's really bad when you skip the rereading. Obviously my good-looking date realized I had mixed him up with one of my other internet boyfriends. And, I was so flustered, I actually tried to convince him his mother was a teacher!

Todd was nice enough to walk me to my car that night, but he made no promises to call or email me. And he kept to his word.

Penpals are Cool...

2006-09-05T21:15:00.000-04:00

In third grade! Come on guys. We're not online dating so that we can make out with a keyboard! If you're interested, you need to be asking us out after 2-4 emails. That's it.

Here are some examples of guys who truly need to be reading this blog.

Guy #1:

He winks.

I wink back.

He emails a paragraph with a couple of questions.

I email back with answers and some questions.

He emails three paragraphs.

I email back one.

He writes a NINE paragraph email telling the story of a prank he and his friend played on a couple of girls when they were IN THE EIGHTH GRADE. Look, chances are, we wouldn't be interested in that story if you were Brad Pitt and you left Angelina for us.

I don't write back.

Guy #2: (this guy is everywhere out there)

He emails a quick hello.

I email back a response.

He asks a couple of questions.

I respond with a couple of my own.

He asks a couple of questions.

I respond with a couple of my own.

He (yawn) asks a couple of questions, and ends his email by inviting me to (get this) EMAIL HIM AT HIS PERSONAL ACCOUNT! What?? Dude, are you that afraid to ask a woman out or are you trying to con me into emailing from my home account so you can get my last name? Either way, EEWWW!

I don't write back.

Online Dating is a Numbers Game.

2006-08-12T11:38:00.000-04:00

So don't expect exclusivity on a first date.

After spending an hour or two on a Friday night with a certain self-proclaimed "Texas gentleman", I was asked what I was doing for the rest of my weekend. I told him I was visiting my parents, running errands, etc. Then he got to what he really wanted to know.

"Do you have a date tomorrow?"

"Yes."

"Tell me about him."

"No."

"Why are you going out with him?"

"Because I want to."

"Why do the girls here go out with more than one guy at a time? It's not like this in Texas."

"Well, I think it's good to meet as many people as possible to find someone you really click with. It's not really a competition or anything."

"I don't understand the women in this area."

After the date, he emailed and told me that he'd like to see me again, but only if I wanted to blow off my Saturday date. Since I'm not much for ultimatums, I wrote back to tell him we shouldn't see each other again.

The " Texas gentleman" then wrote to tell me that he thought I was different, but really I was nothing more than a 'Washington cliché.'

The advice from this story is really three-fold. Don't expect exclusivity too early, don't pry, and don't be a jerk. Three things I think most men can handle.

As for you Texas, do the women in the DC area one favor. Go home.

105 minutes of the 120 I spent with him were great...

2006-08-08T21:52:00.000-04:00

But it’s because of a three minute conversation that I won’t be seeing him again. Here’s the play by play:

7:30: Oh, he’s cuter than I thought he’d be. Yeay!

8:00: He’s nice. I like him.

8:15: Wow. Smart too. I love that he can talk politics. And that he has a job he loves with the Department of Defense. That’s hot.

8:30: He loves hockey and soccer? Yuck. I can get over it though.

8:45: Sounds like he has a good family.

9:00: I’m definitely going to see him again.

And then…

9:15 - 9:18:
Him: So, how do you feel about weed?
Me: About what?
Him: Weed. You know. Smoking pot?
Me: Um, I dunno. To each his own?
Him: Because I do…smoke weed.
Me: You do? Really? Couldn’t you lose your job if you got caught?
Him: Absolutely. That’s why I keep a can of that detox shit in my fridge.
Me: Oh. Don’t your neighbors smell it?
Him: No. I lock myself in my room and filter it through water.
Me: You take bong hits???
Him: Yeah. Only on the weekends though. It’s not addictive you know.
Me: Wow. Bong hits.

9:19: What? Bong hits? Did he really just admit to having a drug problem on the first date?

9:30: Smell you later Cheech.

Are you a Michael-Not-Mike?

2006-08-07T20:44:00.000-04:00

Michael-Not-Mike is a bit different from the other guys I've written about, but only because I found him in a bar.

Like every other guy, Michael-Not-Mike seemed ok at first. Cute. Nice smile. Until I called him Mike. Here's how it went down.

Michael-Not-Mike: Hey, how's it going?

Me: Pretty good. How 'bout yourself?

Michael-Not-Mike: Very well, thanks. What brings you here tonight?

Me: Well, my girls came into town tonight so we could go see the Cubs/Nats game. And we headed here afterwards.

Michael-Not-Mike: Oh yeah, how was the game?

Me: Sucked. The Cubs lost.

Michael-Not-Mike: Cubs fan huh?

Me: Yeah.

Michael-Not-Mike: I'm Michael.

Me: It's nice to meet you Mike.

Michael-Not-Mike looks at Me as if just having been called baby killer

Michael-Not-Mike: (fuming) No. It's MICHAEL.

Me: (caught off guard) Oh. Sorry Michael. No one ever calls you Mike?

Michael-Not-Mike: No. Exits stage left

All right. So maybe I shouldn't have taken the liberty of calling him Mike. But is it really that big of a deal? And if a little thing like being called Mike gets him all riled up, he's definitely going to be a Scott Peterson someday.

Do NOT make fun of your date's anatomy

2006-07-31T20:48:00.000-04:00

Ok. I admit it. I'm no Pamela Anderson. Hell, I wouldn't even be mistaken for her second cousin. But don't remind me. Especially when you're trying to impress me.

Let me start off by giving you some background on my date: Chronologically, he was older than me by about five years. Maturity-wise, he was younger by about ten (I mean really...no one's made fun of my chest size since eighth grade! And yes Keith, that is why I still won't go out with you).

Anyway, the date doesn't start off too badly. But after a couple drinks, his annoying habit of saying something stupid and following with a "Just kiddin" becomes like a chapter out of a Tourette's Syndrome handbook. It sounded somewhat like this: "You've got food in your teeth...Just kiddin!" and "That guy's staring at your ass...Just kiddin!"

Well, for some reason, after about the third drink (Can you believe I was still there?), my date asks me if he can see my driver's license (Ladies, bad idea, I know. Only stalkers and morons ask to see your license. I got lucky with a moron). A buzz making me think nothing of it, I hand over the license. He takes a long look at it, looks up at me, looks at the license, and up at me again. At which point he asks,

"Oh my God! Did you have a breast reduction? Just Kiddin!"

With as much grace as I could muster, I picked my jaw up off the floor, chugged my beer, and replied,

"You know, I'd really love to go out with you again...Just kiddin!"

Assume your date is NOT a Lesbian

2006-07-24T21:33:00.000-04:00

Let me just get right in to this one...

So we're sitting at the bar on our second date, having a fairly good time. I've got a couple of drinks in me, so I'm very much giving him the benefit of the doubt. That is, until the following takes place...

I'm answering some question he'd asked, when, behind us, he hears a girl (in her own conversation) exclaiming, "I can't believe she's getting married because she and I used to make out all the time!"

Well, at that tantilizing visual, my charming date interrupts me to turn and ask the stranger,

"Was she cute?"

After the girl gives him a mind-your-f'ing-business look, he turns back to me with another, more pressing question.

"Have you ever been with a girl?"

"Uh, no."

"Never? Not even in college?"

"No. It was college. Not porn school. Check please."

First Contact: The Form Letter Asker Outer

2006-06-13T20:53:00.000-04:00

Yes, it gets worse than the Mass Mailer. It even gets worse than the Clever Mass Mailer. He’s called the Form Letter Asker Outer. Lucky for the fate of procreation, he is a rather rare specimen.

FLAO’s email shows only one sign of being a form letter. It’s generic. Other than this red flag, FLAO works hard to disguise his letter as a genuine correspondence to one woman. A. He keeps it short. And, B. He extends an invitation to coffee, even going so far as to include the time of day he is available.

He can certainly fool the recipient. As she reads, she’s probably thinking…Can’t be a form letter. He asked me out. So why is it so short? Maybe it’s because he is dull. Maybe he can’t type well. Maybe his mother called as he was typing, so the loving son finished his email and answered the phone.

Ladies, quit making excuses. He's a Mass Mailer.

How, you ask, with his cloak and dagger disguises, can I be so certain the FLAO even exists? Well, everyone who thinks he’s smarter than the rest of us eventually fucks up. I know FLAO is out there because the moron asked me out twice with the exact same form letter.

First Contact - The Clever Mass Mailer

2006-06-11T21:13:00.000-04:00

The regular Mass Mailer thinks he’s smart. But, the Clever Mass Mailer truly believes he has us fooled, ladies!

His bait is a generic form letter that he has finessed, in hopes it doesn’t sound quite so generic. In his email, he’s decided to make a “reference” to the recipient. Sort of. He’ll start something like this: “You sound like a great girl. Really down to earth. I like that in a girl.” Ok, she’s thinking, this guy could be for real. But, on he continues: “I’m 5’11, 225. I like to go hiking and camping. I enjoy spending time with my family. Blah, blah, blah.”

He makes absolutely no reference to anything specific in the girl’s profile, not even to say she looks nice in her picture (C’mon guys. The least you can do is type one damn sentence that says she looks good!). It is now clear to her that she has read yet another form letter sent to dozens of women.

And as the Clever Mass Mailer waits for his pink, plastic bait to hook the women he so thoughtfully cast it to, the latest recipient reaches for her delete button, thinking, Sorry guy. I go for the live worms.

First Contact: The Mass Mailer

2006-06-07T21:37:00.000-04:00

So you’re ready to send her an email. You’re trying to think of something witty and charming to say that will make you stand out. It isn’t coming to you. That’s ok. Give it time. Whatever you do, don’t become a Mass Mailer.

At this very moment, there are men out there who think they’ve got it all figured out. You can almost see them chillin’ by their computer...feet on the desk, arms behind their head...marveling at their own brilliance. They don’t need to be spending their time worrying about what to say in an email. They have single-handedly invented the latest and greatest fool-proof way to meet hundreds of women in one night (drum roll please)THE FORM LETTER. The Mass Mailer sends this highly generic letter to any woman within cyber reach. And as he revels in his glory, imagining himself the Albert Einstein of online dating, he fails to realize his inbox remains as empty as his bed.

Mass Mailer, you are no genius. We can smell that shit a mile away.

Posting a Picture - Don't Overdo it.

2006-06-05T22:21:00.000-04:00

Ok, so you have your nice, dressed up picture posted. Then you put up your I’m-so-athletic picture on the site. Maybe then it’s a here-I-am-with-my-niece-cause-I’m-a-good-guy photo. Stop there. We don’t need to see all of the mountains you’ve ever walked past. We don’t want to see the here-I-am-with-a-hot-chick-cause-I’m-cool picture. And please, please don’t take a picture of yourself in the closet. There are just so many reasons why that is not a good idea.

Posting a Picture - For Mr. I'm too Sexy

2006-06-04T20:36:00.000-04:00

No creepy pictures please. I don’t need to see you pulling your shirt up to expose your abs while sitting on a motorcycle. You don’t look hot. You look like you’re trying to recreate what turned you on in Playboy last month. Simply put, we just don’t fall for posed seduction. We’re more apt to think you’re sexy when you’re fixing the garbage disposal.

Posting a Picture - For Baldies

2006-06-04T17:10:00.000-04:00

If you're a baldy, and it's ok if you are, don't post just one picture of yourself with a hat on. Women don't mind baldness. I promise. But what we do mind is a man who's not up front. Besides, we won't recognize you once we get to the bar. You don't want us walking in and hoping you're the guy by the dart board when really you're the guy next to the bathrooms.