While I certainly can't guarantee you (or myself, for that matter) a second date, I can share with you some things that will guarantee you won't get one. Also, I love a list. So here goes...
How to Guarantee You Won't Get a Second Date
Mention what your and your date's future children will look like, what you will name them, and how you're completely okay with adopting children if your date is unable to bear his or her own children.
Try to get to second base. Or, Try to get to second base at a party in front of small children. You know, like you do...(or don't...if you're not still going through puberty!)
Pick up your date and offer him or her Ritalin to get the evening started off right.
If you're trying online dating, make sure your pictures clearly indicate you are six months pregnant. Otherwise, your date could be in for a shock when you show up glowing and eating for two.(This one probably just applies to women, but you never know.)
Mention your hatred of whatever gender your date is. Save that until at least the third date.
Use the word "tits" or any of its derivatives at least five times in the first fifteen minutes.
Offer your date a lap dance.
Bite your date.
Tell your date you can't wait to call him or her your boyfriend or girlfriend.
Lick your date's eyeball.
List in great detail all of your past suicide attempts.
Explain that you're a grad student at NC State. Then clarify and say you're really still an undergrad. Then clarify further and say you're actually not at NC State, but that you're attending Wake Tech. Wait for dessert and then explain that you're actually no longer at Wake Tech, but you are at least working. Next, mention your job is working as a waiter at Applebee's. When the meal is over, let your date know that you've recently quit your job at Applebee's, but that you are at least spending your time dreaming about your future career as a NASCAR driver, once you learn how to drive a fast car, and buy one. Of course, this is purely a hypothetical situation.
Smack your date on the ass.
Refuse to tell your date your real name.
Begin an in-depth discussion of your recent gastric bypass and/or lap band surgery.
Tell your date how important your child is to you and then find yourself at a loss as to when your child's birthday is or how old your child is.
Cry. For any reason.
Use finger puppets to communicate.
My hope is that this list is useful to you, as these are all things that have really happened.
As someone who’s survived a breakup at least a dozen times (split about
50/50 in terms of dumper/dumpee role, so I’d say I’m a minor expert on both), I
can say that most of the time, it sucks no matter which side of the break
you’re on.
I could talk all day about how much it sucks to get dumped, and I don’t
think there’s a soul out there who would disagree with me.Sometimes it hurts so very much that it can
be hard to acknowledge that the process is hard for person initiating the
breakup, too.
Especially if it happens like this…
(the famous Sex and the City post-it breakup)
It absolutely SUCKS to break up with someone (unless it’s
because you find him pinching his mother’s nipples in the kitchen, and then he justifies
it by saying “Mama likes to have fun,too”…but
I digress). I learned that in the not too distant past, and it was a tough,
tough lesson. I finally had the courage to end a relationship with a great guy
who “wasn’t the one,” and it was brutal – for both of us. I think I cried for 24
hours straight, before and after. I didn’t think I could do it in person, but I felt like I owed him at least that much. My
therapist, however, said one of the best things anyone has said to me in my
life.
“It
is going to suck no matter how you do it,
and no matter when you do it.”
And she was right.
Breakups are shitty no matter how you go about it (well, maybe you don’t
need to do it on a post-it note, or at a party in front of your closest friends
in a crowded room while screaming and stroking another girl’s hair…but I digress). The important part is
that you do it and are clear about meaning it.
I learned, the hard way, that staying with someone you don’t really
love is selfish – NOT selfless. I was staying with him because I didn’t want to
hurt him. Meanwhile, he was being lied to every time I smiled, held his hand,
slept with him, or told him I loved him. I was also taking up his valuable time
– time he could’ve been spending finding someone who actually appreciated what
he had to offer. That someone just wasn’t me (no matter how much I tried or wished it were).
So, I did it over the phone. And it was every bit as rough as you
imagine it might be. He didn’t see it coming, and didn’t believe me at first,
but I had to be persistent. Repeating yourself over and over again, knowing
that each time you do, you’re leaving a scar (that will, by the way, heal one
day) on someone you care about is a form of torture that I suppose governments
haven’t yet explored, but I assure you, it is almost unbearable.
Did he deserve a face-to-face break up at the end of what was a serious
relationship? I think a lot of people would say so, and I don’t know that I even disagree
with them. But I know that, for better or worse, I just couldn’t make it happen
in person. Maybe I’m a coward sometimes, and I’m kind of okay with that, too,
because in the end, he was free to go find happiness, and so was I.
Is it shitty to break up with someone over the phone or email instead
of in person? Maybe. Probably. Is it shittier to stay in a relationship in
which you are unhappy and the other person is being denied the opportunity to
find love? Absolutely.
As we go about this process of finding another single person with whom
we are compatible, it can often feel as if there are just no single people left
in our city. Sure, logically we know this isn’t true…but still, it seems like it’s true. So just how many
single people are there in Durham?
The government gives us a good estimate. According to the 2010 census, there
are approximately 49,348 available men over the age of 15 and 62,202 available
women over the age of 15.
I realize that most of us would not date anyone under the age of 18 –
at least those of us who prefer not to have to register as sex offenders – and most
of us are not looking for someone over the age of 65, but you get the idea.
Similarly, I can’t tell you how many of these people are in relationships or
cohabiting, but I can say they’re not married or separated (not that there’s
something inherently wrong with dating someone separated, but it just seemed
easier to look at the numbers this way). I also know that this number doesn’t
count members of the LGBT community whose unions are not (yet) legally
recognized.
Even though there are what seems like many more available women than
men, it still seems like there is a decent pool of people out there for all of us
to explore.
Now if I can only find one who
meets these requirements…
Month: April Weather: Perfect spring weather Location: Pop's Time: 6:30 p.m. Sunday night On the agenda: Dinner Date level: Second
As a casual second date, I still went with my jeans (I seriously need to wear something other than jeans on my next date!), but I broke tradition and opted for flat sandals. It was warm, sunny, and a comfortable way to look cute. Plus, as much as I love my heels, I also love being relaxed and comfortable on Sundays. My flat sandals are brown with gold metal detailing, have a thong between my big toe and second toe, and an ankle strap that zips up the back of the heel to connect. The Bagley by Dolce Vita is a nice substitute for mine, though I didn't pay nearly that much!
I topped it off with my white Old Navy Tank from my Federal date and my berry colored Old Navy Cardigan, which I love because it's comfy, inexpensive, and honestly the color looks amazing on me, if I do say so myself.
I didn't wear much jewelry - my silver ball studs and a silver watch, since I wanted to keep it as casual as possible. I looked relaxed AND put together, which is often what I strive for. I also think the color brightened me and brought out my hair and eye color, so I felt great.
Admittedly, I am not reduced to a misty-eyed floral sachet of estrogen
when I watch romantic comedies, receive flowers, or am serenaded by a date who “plays
the guitar poorly a little.” But you know what gets me every dang time? A good cuddle.
I don’t want to cuddle the whole night, and am honestly usually the
first to break the embrace, but a good cuddle is tough to beat. (I mean,
obviously there’s one thing that can
top cuddling in bed, but you see my point.) It melts my cold heart instantly
and turns me to putty in the right man’s capable hands and arms (and maybe even
legs).
Which brings me to this: (you’re welcome, in advance)
So aside from being creepy AND hilarious (who doesn’t love that
combination?), there are some valid and helpful lessons hidden in this “tutorial.”
To begin, the Stamos Soother is EXCELLENT when combined with running
your fingers through a woman’s hair. I’m not partial to the scalp massage
portion, but to each her own. If a man touches my hair or face, my defenses are
useless. I also really enjoy laying my head on a man’s chest and being able to
kiss his neck and stroke his chest. Sure, the video makes it cheesy and funny, but it’s really nice.
The Stamos Spoonful is kind of given the shaft here (haha…get it?) so I feel the need to highlight
that spooning can be awesome. What makes it less awesome is the poke factor if
you’re not in the mood for round two with Mr. Cuddler. That aside, I tend to
think I feel safer and more protected while being spooned than I do in the “Stamos
Soother” position. I can occasionally enjoy being big spoon, but most of the
time it’s not my favorite. I tend to select that only if I’m also giving the
guy a back rub or scratch of sorts.
I also enjoy the Stamos Swadler as a cuddle position but enjoy nothing else he mentioned! Do not ever
rub noses with me, give me “butterfly kisses” (seriously?!), or STARE AT ME,
INCHES FROM MY FACE, WHILE I SLEEP. I will call the police. That is all.
And then there’s the Stamos S’Touching (her with your fingers). A good caress IS excellent, but it really
needs to be combined with one of the previously mentioned positions. Otherwise,
caressing without cuddling in bed can come across as timid, lacking confidence,
and sometimes even annoying. If you’re going to cuddle, commit to a position,
gentlemen.
I was a little disappointed that Stamos left out suggestions on how to
break the cuddle without hurting your significant other’s feelings (a problem I
run into often as I tend to get squirmy and can’t hold a cuddle all night).
What I have found to be most effect to use with a guy – or to have a guy use on
me – to prevent hurt feelings is to kiss your partner, perhaps on the neck,
forehead, or arm, rub them gently on the back, side, or arm, and then roll away
to your own side of the bed. This generally makes me feel cared for, rather
than abandoned, while clearly signaling that cuddle time is over for the
moment. Win-win, no?
Recommended for: First dates, drinks
with friends and family.
Interestingly
enough, when I went to West End a few weeks ago for a first date, I asked my
date if he had any favorites on the wine list as he had chosen the date
location (and also because he wasn’t making conversation). His response was
that he doesn’t like wine, and he proceeded to order an Italian beer.
I know.
Anyway,
it was a nice night, so I asked if we could sit outside. There were two other
groups seated outside; one, a couple on a date (clearly not a first date, as
they proceeded to make out a little bit later – though, I do suppose it could
have been an AMAZING first date) and the other a pair of friends catching up.
The PDA going on next to us was a little distracting, but it’s definitely not
West End’s fault. Generally, I enjoy people watching when I’m out in Durham.
Really, it’s one of my favorite pastimes anywhere, but there’s almost always
something or someone fascinating to watch in Durham, more so than other places.
Except
there is never any good people watching to be had at West End.
This
has been my chief complaint in going there over the last few years. I love
wine, so I want to love West End.
Their hummus plate is pretty decent (it’s not the best I’ve ever had, but I
generally don’t go to a wine bar for food; it’s good and gets the job done, keeping
me satisfied without stuffing me so that I still have room to enjoy my fourth
second glass of wine) and I’ve enjoyed a few other small plates there from time
to time. They have a great selection of wine and I always get to try something
new. But for whatever reason, the people who frequent there (except for
my fabulous group of friends and myself, naturally) are just…well, they’re
there. And that’s about all I can say. I can’t relate one funny story (that my
friends and I didn’t create ourselves) or recall one funny moment I witnessed
at West End, and while I know that those things are far from requirements for a
first date, it is nice to have a decent crowd of interesting people around to
comment on, in case the date goes south. I also can’t recall meeting and
talking to any interesting people there, which if nothing else is a given in
almost any bar or night spot in Durham. I’m not sure why people don’t frequent it
more, but there seems to be a drought of young and lively folk there. Sigh.
However, I do know that I will periodically go back anyway, hoping,
wishing, dreaming that I will find amazing wine AND a lively time in one place.
So, I give West End three stars out of five. It is by no means a bad place for a date, but it’s not
particularly noteworthy or amazing either. (Especially
if you don’t like wine!)
Recommended for: First dates, second dates,
casual dinners with significant others, meals out with friends and family.
For
a second date, I recently went to Pop’s for a Sunday night dinner (6:30pm). I
was excited to go because, I am ashamed to admit, I hadn’t been since they
moved locations two years ago. Parking was easy (my date scored us a
spot without having to circle), and the location definitely has curb appeal.
Inside, the hostess asked us if we’d like to sit in the dining area or
at one of the high tops in the bar section. My date deferred to me, and I chose
the high top because it was next to the window and had a pleasant view.
My entrée choice was the gnocchi with duck meatballs, and it was fantastic.
The gnocchi was good, but what really delighted my tongue were the meatballs.
Not always a huge fan of duck, I was very happy to discover this was delicious.
(My date went with the salmon, but we weren’t at that “level” where I was going
to ask to try his food, though the thought briefly crossed my mind. He seemed
to love it, and didn’t leave a bit on his plate, so I’m going to assume it was
equally as good as the gnocchi and duck meatballs.)
Being a Sunday night and having gone out with friends the night before,
I opted to pass on having wine with dinner, so unfortunately I don’t have
anything to say in that department. Perhaps a future date (sadly, with someone
else – we lacked a “spark,” which I use as code for “anything to talk about”)
will afford me this opportunity?
The atmosphere was pleasant, though not particularly romantic, which
was fine by me as it was only a second date. The walls were painted red, which
seems a bit obvious for an Italian restaurant, but it did look nice. Because it
was earlier in the evening, it was very light out, so that may have contributed
to the casual feel. I think it might have felt a tad more intimate if I had
chosen a table in the main dining area rather than the bar. The bar was great
in that it had a lovely view and there was a TV so I could glimpse college
basketball highlights between the long and boring pauses in conversation
as we focused on eating rather than talking. The huge drawback of sitting at
the bar is that it’s right next to the open kitchen, so there is a TON of
noise. I sometimes have random hearing trouble, so when that was combined with
a soft-spoken waiter, it made things a little difficult. Plus, it’s hard enough
talking on an awkward second date, so it would have been nice to be
somewhere a little quieter. Oh well, you live and learn, and I take full
responsibility for our seating choice.
It was a great meal, a good location, and has good date seating options,
even though we didn’t take advantage of them. I would give this date location
four out of five stars.
Month: March Weather: Warm to a little cool Location: West End Wine Bar (Durham location) Time: 7:30 p.m. Thursday night On the agenda: Meeting for drinks Date level: First
I really wanted to wear a skirt for this date, since it was nice outside and I kind of like my legs. However, none of my skirt options could be paired with appropriate footwear, so pants it was.
I work medium wash denim with button flap pockets (I can't locate the original pair, but this is a close approximation - just imagine the wash a tad lighter).
Because it was newly spring (and spring always awakens my secret love of nautical wear), I decided to pair the jeans with an orange tank, navy sweater, and some gold jewelry. (see also: my other car is a yacht)
My orange tank was from Loft and was a brighter shade of orange, but it was gauzy like this one, so you get the idea.
I carried a navy clutch with gold and silver studs that I bought from Loft a few springs ago. (and of course there isn't a picture of it online either). The bag below - from Etsy - is pretty darn close.
I'd say there was nothing terribly offensive about the outfit, but it fell short of the mark. Or at least what I feel the mark should be. I don't inherently have a problem with navy and black together, but I only like it when it's deliberate. This looked more like "I had no other option" than "I'm playing with color." The blues in the navy and denim worked okay together, but I'm very particular about mixing blues, especially with denim, so I wasn't really satisfied there either. Were I to grade this date outfit, I'd give it a C-. (Note: It apparently didn't phase my date - he asked me out for a second date. So there's that.)
(I typically get annoyed with the "what I wore" posts on blogs, maybe because of the poses people take when photographing their outfits. So, that's not how this is going to work. I plan on posting images of the clothing, sans moi.)
Month: April
Weather: Cool
Location: The Federal
Time: 8:00 p.m. Saturday night
On the agenda: Meeting for drinks
Date level: First
Grey cashmere cardigan (very light, but just enough warmth for a cool spring evening). I'm not sure grey is a great spring color, or a "notice me color" for a first date, but it's super cute, flattering on me, and I feel so relaxed and comfortable in it that it seemed like a good choice. (Note: the picture below isn't the exact sweater I wore, but it's the closest I could find. My sweater came from Marshall's. I love a deal.) I also wore dark, straight leg jeans, not all that extraordinary, but good basics, so they looked close to those that the sweater is paired with.
Underneath the cardigan, I wore this basic old navy tank in white (shown below in teal). It doesn't look like much, but unbutton the top two buttons and you show just a hint of cleavage without giving anything away.
I topped it off with just some simple silver studs, a silver bracelet, and a red floral scarf from Loft (I couldn't find it online anymore, but the one below is similar and very pretty, and it's from Etsy!)
I wore my hair down and naturally wavy, and I felt comfortable, beautiful, and, dare I even say it...a little sexy? The casual nature of the outfit made it great for the Fed and a first date, the red pumps made it date-worthy, and the scarf kept a little spring in it despite the cooler weather at night. (Plus, the cashmere sweater was perfect for the end-of-the-night hug!)
Though this post isn’t directly about Durham, it is certainly about
dating and we can probably see ourselves or someone we’ve dated in here
somewhere.
One of my dearest friends, Wendy*, lives in a picturesque northern city,
complete with New England historical charm. Despite being beautiful, in
excellent shape, very smart (she has a
master’s degree and a job that requires a high level of intelligence), and
laugh-until-you-cry funny, Wendy is, like so many of us, trying to find a guy
that she can form a real relationship with and becoming frustrated in the
process.
I think a lot of us feel this way, particularly if we can identify with
what Charlotte has to say:
(Honestly, I’ve only been dating
since I was 16, but you get the idea.)
So Wendy and I have had dailya few talks about keeping the faith and believing in the process.
We also talk about what my therapist says. (What? Like you don’t go to a
therapist, or at least secretly suspect that maybe you need to? Or maybe that’s just me.) She says it’s
largely a numbers game, and to a certain extent, I think that makes a lot of
sense. And out of all those attempts at relationships, only one will really
work out (for most of us). Accurate? I think so. Bolstering in times of
frustration? Sometimes. Also a little depressing? Yes. One…out of what seems
like hundreds? Sigh.
I am notoriously not sappy, so keeping positive and hopeful in the
romantic sphere can be a tiny bit challenging. (For the record, I do not like
Nicholas Sparks. Period. See also: the Hallmark channel.) I am generally not
inspired by romantic comedies – they tend to make me feel as if they are making
women everywhere false promises. So I try to focus more on the dating
experience as a series of mini lessons learned. It makes the “numbers” less
overwhelming, and lessons are a little more tangible than numbers to me. I was
never very good at math, anyway.
Which brings me to lesson one.
While doing a little day-drinking with a friend (it was Good Friday, after all), Wendy received
a text from a number she didn’t recognize. She asked who it was, and it turned
out to be Al*, a guy she had gone on a date or two with, but who stopped
responding to her texts two months or so ago. When he identified himself, she
even told him she’d deleted his number (ballsy, and I like it!) and he
responded by explaining that he had
only just two months ago just a few minutes prior received her last text
(“It’s really weird!”). Still, they made plans for him to meet up with her at a
bar a little later in the evening. (So, not as ballsy, I guess, but I knew
there had to be a good story coming
out of this, so I refrained from protesting.)
(I know what you’re thinking – has she not seen or read He’s Just Not That Into You? Well, yeah,
she has…but the numbers game can mess with your head sometimes.)
So Al meets up with Wendy and Bo* (Bo is a guy who is just Wendy’s
“friend,” but sometimes they cuddle and make out. See previous explanation
about Al.) After a while, Bo goes home. He was originally going to be her ride,
and probably her place to cuddle make-outget to second base crash
for the night. At the end of the evening, Wendy asks Al if she can go home with
him, and he mumbles something about his brother (our dear friend whiskey
impaired Wendy’s ability to sketch out what that situation was all about, but at least we can thank whiskey for a few laughs). The two wander around for some time, trying to find Bo’s house (which
is of course one of many in blocks of identical town homes – damn you, numbers
game, damn you!), and Wendy begins to cry and mumble incoherently, which is understandable given she
was drunk and frustrated and worried about how to get home, though it
admittedly doesn’t make for a great ending to a date. She also falls, creating
gashes on her feet and hands that bleed profusely. (We hope the blood comes out of her shoes - they were really cute.) After they narrowly avoid
her death by exsanguination, Al does the gentlemanly thing and gets her a cab.
She hops in, but has to have the cab driver take her to an ATM on the way home
because she doesn’t have any cash with which to pay him. When she gets home,
she discovers that she also left her keys at home, so she has to bang loudly
until her roommate comes and unlocks the door.
Then she sends incoherent drunken texts to several people in her phone
and takes pictures of her bloody feet. That
kind of story needs documentation.
So, after I was finished crying (from laughing so hard, because this
story could truly only be told by Wendy, because this kind of thing happens to her), we discussed what we’ve learned. The morals of this story are as follows:
Always have keys and cash.
Don’t go out again with dudes who lie about not getting your texts
have cell phones that deliver texts two months late.
Despite being douches, some guys have a glimmer of potential in them
(Al is certainly no catch, but he did keep her company through the debacle and made sure she had a safe way home.)
We suspect that if you deleted someone’s phone number, you probably had
a good reason to do so and should trust that instinct.
One man (and temporarily one woman) down, a few more to go.
Wendy has the best stories.
Don’t day-drink without a trusted chaperon.
Someone should probably invent a cell phone that comes with a breathalyzer
to keep you from drunk-dialing and texting.
Always wash your cuts with soap and water, especially if you got them on the street.
I
don’t know if her story gives me hope that I will find my Mr. Right, but it
definitely made me laugh and helps to keep me from taking this whole “numbers
game” too seriously. There's always a point, even if he's not your dream man, no?
Plus, I will never again
day-drink without a trusted chaperon. Also, I may become an entrepreneur
with that breathalyzer phone idea. That’s pretty valuable, right?
*Names have been changed to keep me from being sued…I hope.
Shortly after New Year’s, three Durham singles met at a bar.
They sat down and started talking about resolutions for 2012
and wound up creating dating resolutions for 2012. The group was
comprised of two women and one man, all in their early to mid thirties. Having
recently read this cringe-worthy and yet brutal, honest, and overwhelmingly hilarious post over at bitchesgottaeat
(and obviously being one of the three singles), I was particularly inspired to
take things a step further. What would our list of desirable traits in a
potential date look like? Well, ladies and gentlemen, the following is our
answer:
(Note: Both lists included input from men and women -
just to keep it reasonable. For today, we’re sticking with the men. Stay tuned
for the lady list!)
Man Requirements
He must be able to cook for himself. It doesn’t have to be
gourmet quality stuff here, folks, but it should be non-lethal, inoffensive in
taste, and involve more than a box, water, and a microwave. Extra points if
it’s delicious and healthy, first (honestly, maybe even second) base if
it’s made of locally grown ingredients.
He must drink beer. Seriously, people, we shouldn’t even
have to write this here. We live in DURHAM. Drinking beer is what we do (that,
and grow beards, mustaches, and wear hipster glasses). If you can’t man-up and
join us in a great draught or bottle of PBR...We. Are not. Interested. With
awesome local breweries and bars, there’s really no excuse, men of Durham.
He must read. As Samantha said over at bitchesgottaeat, if he can invest in some characters, he’s
got something going on upstairs. And that, gentlemen, is pure sexiness.
He must be nice to waitstaff and tip well. If he’s not
generous there, he’s probably not generous in other locations...
He must not wear socks at inappropriate times, such as with
sandals or in bed. We know, we know. Some of you have lived in Durham long
enough to remember when that was actually cool. Still, we stand by this
statement - it is not sexy to see socks and sandals together. It is even less
sexy to see socks in bed. We acknowledge that some of you live in drafty,
historical houses and buildings that are absolute bitches to heat. If this is
the case, it is your duty to please that booty to the point that you both are
so warm, you don’t even need socks.
He must not use baby talk. Ever. We want to date you because
we think of you as a man. If we wanted to date toddlers...well, we’d be in
jail.
He must drink whiskey. This could technically be combined
under one item that deals with alcohol preferences, but it’s separately
important. A man drinking whiskey is just plain hot. There’s something
virile about it. (And to be honest, we like the way it tastes when we kiss you afterward.)
He must not order drinks that are more “girlie” or sweet
than what we are ordering. If we’ve got a whiskey and ginger or a gin and
tonic, we don’t want to look over and see your ass sipping on something that
comes with an umbrella (please see items two and seven for reference).
He must look good in either a flannel shirt or a tux. After
all, this is Durham. And, after all, flannel is hot and manly. And a tux is
just damn sexy.
He must watch a sport. We’re not necessarily picky on what
this sport is, but he should watch it. Bonus points for yelling at the
television, because that’s what we’re going to be doing. (Note: my female
partner in crime would like for him to participate in an athletic activity or
sport, but that’s not necessarily crucial for me. You know, we’re diverse and
all.) We’d also like for him to pull for at least one working-class team. We’re
not elitists.
He must swear and be able to make inappropriate jokes. Now, we’re
not asking that you swear in front of small children or make Great Aunt Janet
blush in shame, but make us laugh. Push the limits a little. We’ll like it. We
promise.
He must be able to spell, use appropriate grammar, and not
use “text speak.” Gentlemen, when “u r” telling us you will “brb,” we are NOT
rofl. We will not ttyl.
This one might ruffle a few feathers, but he must cross his
legs appropriately. If you are crossing your legs the same way we are, we’re
wondering why...and how. A nice ankle-across-the-knee in a figure-four
is always appropriate.
We don’t want to see your inner thigh or much of the area
above your elbow (except in bed...obviously). This means your shorts should
come to your knees and that your shirts should hit your elbow area. T-shirts
are okay, but if you’re going to wear a button up, we’d like to see you go the
long-sleeved route. (Note: There is nothing sexier than a man with an oxford
shirt on, sleeves rolled up to his mid forearm. Is it getting hot in here?)
The following clothing items are always unacceptable: velcro
shoes (some vintage exceptions), khakis worn with tennis shoes, pleated pants,
and “dress” jeans. Gentlemen - “dress” jeans do not exist. You are either
attending an event at which jeans are appropriate, or they’re not - in which
case, don’t wear them. (Note: If you need evidence of just how hot flat-front pants
are, just check out Clooney and Pitt.)
He must be willing to dance. Now, my co-writer and I do
differ somewhat on this. She would like him to dance in all situations. I
prefer that he be able to dance in some ways (say, we take salsa lessons or
something of the sort). She wants someone to dance with at a club with a DJ or
at a wedding, in addition to the more traditional social dance forms. Take that
as you will, guys.
He must not live with his parents, have stuffed animals, or
an inappropriate relationship with his mother. We don’t feel the need to
explain this one much, either, and while we understand the troubling economy,
we feel that perhaps dating should be put on hold until you can take us back to
your place without having to worry about waking up mom and pop.
He should not be a smoker or a regular user of tobacco. If
you want to smoke a cigar with the boys on guys’ night, go for it, but if you
need to constantly take a cigarette break, this isn’t gonna work. Smokeless
tobacco in any form results in automatic disqualification. (Note: over-chewing
of gum can sometimes be a related item. Step away from the Juicy Fruit.)
"Manry" must be at a minimum. We’re down with piercings and
such, but if you are wearing more jewelry than we are...we might get jealous.
We like to be the sparkly ones.
He should take pride in being a chivalrous man (and we hope
you know that we do not equate that with chauvinism). We like for doors to be
opened and we like for you to pay, at least on the first two dates. You should
not only be able to give compliments to a woman but also actually do so. Being chivalrous also means we want you to take care of scary bugs and of our phone
numbers. Don’t give us yours - we’re not going to call. (Also, if you leer
creepily at women, us or others, we’re not going to answer, even if you do
call.)
We like to eat meat. We’re okay with it if you don’t. If
you’re a vegan, move along.
Tattoos can be hot. Tweety-bird tattoos cannot.
No Republicans. Sorry, but we’re sticking to our
(fictitious) guns here. Our male single friend would like for us to include “no
Canadians,” as well. We don’t really have a problem with the Cannucks, but his
suggestion is duly noted.
While the “cat man” living with 30 cats is much more rare a find than the cat lady, we
don’t want him if he does exist. A cat or two, maybe. Twenty? Next,
please.
He’s gotta vote. This assumes he keeps up with important
issues and actually takes the time to think about them.
Finally, he needs guy friends. He needs to support them (in
whatever manly way he chooses), and they should be supportive of him. He should
spend regular time with them. We like our time with our friends and don’t want
someone who doesn’t value that in his own life as well.
