Beware of a Date Who Admits To Googling You…

Posted on August 10, 2012 by B

Hi, I’m Ted. I’m looking for someone who’s as comfortable at home on the couch as they are out dancing! Also, someone into being murdered.

Everyone researches their date. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. If a real email or last name happens to get dropped in conversation, then yeah, you’ll jump over to Facebook and check the person out. Maybe to see a few more pictures, or find out if you have any friends in common, or make sure they have friends at all. Nothing wrong with that. Maybe you’ll even do a Google search, though I don’t know what a person’s Linked In profile and an article they wrote for their college paper about the delays in renovating the new science wing will really teach you. But whatever you do, don’t tell the person what you found out in your research of them. Because that’s more than a little, well, Ted Bundy-ish. How do I know? Well…

For you who have been reading my riveting prose for months now, it will not surprise you to learn that I am a writer. “But what about the typos?” you say. “But what about my fist in your face?” I reply, and it’s clear to you that I mean business. As a writer, you can Google me and probably find more stuff than you would for the average person. But when one young lady, let’s call her Shawna, announced on the phone before meeting me that not only had she Googled me, but found an interview that I forgot even existed, I was perturbed. On the one hand, I was charmed that she was so interested in me (my shrink would have a field day with that one), on the other, I wondered how many pages deep she must have gone in her Google search to find this interview. Turns out…nine. I checked myself and it took NINE pages to get to a seven-year-old interview I did on a friend’s podcast that itself lasted only three episodes and no one ever listened to. That means she waded through pages and pages of things that weren’t even close to being about me just to find this terribly pointless waste of ten minutes. For someone she’d never met before. And then for some reason, told me all about it. And somehow I ended up charmed? I don’t know. Like I said, I have a shrink, we’re working through it.

There’s something about him in here somewhere, I can feel it!

So I go out with Shawna the night after the big Google admission, and things go pretty well for a time. The banter is lively, she’s actually quite attractive, and seems to be fairly rich – which is good news for Daddy Nobucks over here. She’s a succesful lawyer, why was I so worried about a little Googling – we’ve all Googled, right? Who hasn’t Googled? And then she got up to order food. That’s when the trouble started.

Shawna goes up to the counter at this cute little coffee shop and orders a sandwich, or something equally simple. I realize I have to head out to a birthday party in about an hour, and tell her when she returns. Her face turns almost immediately to disdain. “What?! An hour from NOW?!” she half yells. Honestly not knowing when else it would be an hour from, I nod tentatively. “Well that is outrageous!” she now fully yells. We’ve already been there, mind you, for over an hour and twenty minutes. Ending it an hour from then would put it safely in the two-hour category, which I insist is plenty for a first Internet date. One hour if they’re bad, two hours if they’re good, three hours if, as Vince Vaughn likes to say, you’re gonna make some bad decisions.

“I’m sorry,” I say, even though no one was buying that shit. “I thought two hours would be enough time. How long do your first Match dates usually last?” You’re guessing in your mind what she’s going to say, aren’t you? You think she might say three hours, or she doesn’t have an expected time, or some other answer that is nowhere near as awesome as what she actually said which was…FIVE HOURS. She’s never had a first date of any kind that lasted under five hours. And she had planned this evening accordingly. We were going to have coffee and sandwiches, then go to a movie, then play some pool, then “see what happens.” Except actually she would be the only one who was seeing what happened, as I would have long since hung myself in the bathroom.

“Why didn’t you tell me before I ordered my food?!” she continues to yell with her ever-reddening face. My thought: why didn’t I tell you I would have to leave in an hour before you ordered a turkey sandwich? Because that would be ridiculous. Should I tell you about everything that I’m planning on doing in the next six hours on the off-chance that it conflicts with someone insane plan you’ve concocted? I’m probably gonna take a crap in a little while, wanna know about that? My actual words: “I guess I wasn’t thinking.” That, clearly, was insufficient. “Well, what am I supposed to do, just wolf down my sandwich?!”

The last time anyone tried to eat a sandwich in under an hour.

I stopped talking at that point, because really, what was the point? Shawna shot up from the table to ask the people at the counter to cancel the sandwich that she couldn’t possibly eat in the next 60 minutes. She came back and sat down and pretended to compose herself for a few minutes then announced, not unexpectedly, that “my time is clearly about to be up, so I think I should just leave now.” Then we had the most awkward walk to the subway in the history of awkward walks to the subway, and I bid her adieu.

The lesson I take from this? When someone tells you they’re crazy, either explicitly or by admitting they Googled you to a ridiculous extent before you even went out, then you should believe them and cancel the date. Learn this lesson, loyal reader. One day I may actually learn it myself. That’s what my shrink says, anyway.

Posted in Horror Stories | 27 Comments

Lunch Dates are for Losers

Posted on August 3, 2012 by B

Let’s get this party started!

I haven’t answered a question from you guys in a while. So selfish. Here’s one I get fairly often, from Richie in Boston, MA.

“A girl took the initiative ask me out on Eharmony, which I thought was pretty radical. But she wants to meet for lunch instead of a drink. Lunch seems more like the friend zone. Should I push for a beer instead? Should I take that as a bad sign?“

Is it a bad sign? Well I don’t know Richie, did you use the word “radical” with her too? If yes, then I’d say yeah, it’s a pretty bad sign. Kidding! Kind of!

Seriously though, when readers ask me about the feasibility of a lunch date, I always say the same thing: “What’s the most fun you’ve ever had at lunch?” Zero, right? Zero fun. Lunch is just not that exciting a format. That limits how good a lunch date possibly go, right? Honestly, when’s the last time you had a friggin’ amazing lunch? You started ordering margaritas, and all of a sudden the conversation totally took off. You and your mate hit on everything – sex, relationships, politics, having a sexual relationship with politics. The two of you laughed so hard, stuff started to come out of your nose. Then a few friends who weren’t even invited showed up, and things got even crazier! Someone suggested shots, then someone else suggested dancing while you did the shots, and that’s when the lunch got away from you. The next 45 minutes were a blur, but all you know is that when you came to, your friends were gone and you were sitting at a table with Samuel L. Jackson and the chick from the Progressive Insurance commercials. And Sam said he was picking up the tab. When’s the last time you had a lunch like THAT?!

“I’ll go on a date with you for any meal! Or a snack, even!”

OK, perhaps I went a little bit overboard there, but dates are supposed to be fun. I don’t think the issue is that lunch automatically makes you “just friends,” I mean people who have sex with each other have been known to share mid-day deals, it’s that lunch doesn’t give the encounter a high chance of success. First of all, it’s the middle of the day. Not sexy. Chances are you’re both coming from – and going back to – work, which doesn’t put you in the most joyful mindset. And it also means you can’t drink. Or drink with any dedication to the craft. And that adds up to a pretty mellow afternoon. Pretttty pretttty mellow. Is it possible to have fun without drinking? Of course it is. Is it possible to have flirty, romantic fun with someone you’ve never met without drinking, and be swept away by the tiniest glimmer in their eyes? Ehhhh not so much. You’re sober, your phone is vibrating from the constant flow of work emails coming your way, and you have a very sensible caesar salad – no croutons – sitting in front of you. If you can feel romantic under those circumstances you should check your water glass, because I think you just got roofied.

Often times there’s an instinct to glide your way through Internet dates. I’m probably more guilty of it than any of you, mostly because I’ve been so damn many of them. But it’s easy to say “Oh, it’s just an Internet date. Let’s maybe grab a quick coffee.” Or “I’ve gotta eat lunch anyway, why don’t we do it together?” Don’t do that. And Richie, if your date is suggesting you do that, avoid it all costs. It’s a totally understandable desire, to say “I don’t know this person at all, so I’m not gonna put a ton of effort into this,” but that desire is gonna kill any chance you have at establishing a really great connection. If you do something lame and hasty on your date, it’s pretty likely your date is gonna end feeling lame and hasty. Again, is it possible that two people can totally hit it off under rather staid circumstances? Of course it is. But it’s not as likely as it would be if you meet at 8, have a cocktail, and see where the night takes you.

So, to sum it up, Richie: avoid lunch dates and never say the word “radical” again. Got it? Good. Best of luck!

Posted in Advice | 8 Comments

How Did Your Date Go? Use The Test of 5 Questions

Posted on July 26, 2012 by B

This guy knows how his date went. Not well.

Some dates are easy to evaluate. Fall asleep in your bowl of spaghetti, and then wake up to discover your wallet’s gone? It’s pretty clear how that date went. Go home at the end of the night wearing someone else’s underwear? Again, not hard to deduce the quality of your evening. You may want to rethink some personal choices, but all in all, you probably had a pretty good date. Or a very very bad one. But most Internet encounters are not so clear cut. A lot of them, in my experience, are…pretty good. Not great. Not terrible. But pretty good. You laughed a little, drank a little, nobody lost an eye – it was an entirely fine evening. But you’re not sure if you want to repeat it. So what do you do? Do you ask them out again and see if there’s more of a spark, or do you cut bait and search for someone else to trade underwear with? A lot of you have been doing neither. You’ve just been emailing me, and asking what I think you should do. And what do I suggest? I suggest you use The Test of 5 Questions.

The test of 5 Questions is incredibly simple, and honestly, I use it myself all the time. Here we go – get out your pencils, because it’s about to get complicated. Should you see your date again? The only thing you need to know is: did they ask you 5 questions? That’s it. Pretty simple. I don’t care about if they’re an Aries or a Cancer, if they smiled when you touched their arm, or if they smelled like pineapples and morning dew. Did they ask five questions, in total, by the end of the night? That’s all I want to know. If they asked you five questions — what you thought about politics, or where you like to go drinking, or what you think the Oompa Loompas smelled like — any quandaries at all, then you’ve got yourself a keeper. Because five questions means they’re genuinely trying to know you. They want to know what you think, who you are, what, essentially, is your deal. And someone who cares about your deal is a lot rarer than you think.

Oprah always asks 5 Questions

You’re probably thinking, “Come on, five questions? That’s really all it takes?” Well, five questions is actually quite a lot. Since I devised this little technique, I’ve been keeping track, and easily half of the women I’ve met don’t ask five things about me. There’s always plenty to discuss, there certainly aren’t any silences, it’s just that everything’s about them. And I don’t care. In fact, I’m happy to learn about them, it’s what I’m on the date for. I don’t need to hear my stories, I’ve heard ‘em, they’re pretty much all about my cat. But when I realize my date doesn’t wanna hear ‘em either, that’s when I know we’ve got a problem. Because no logical person is gonna go out with a stranger and not try to learn everything they can. They could be a murderer, or a religious fundamentalist, or, you know, your future husband. And if you don’t wanna know which one of these is me, chances are the reason is you don’t particularly care. (Answer: They’re all me. Yippee!)

Here’s another way to think about it, in case surreptitiously counting off questions on your fingers isn’t your idea of a good time. Could your date write a paragraph about you when the evening concludes? If he or she can’t, then they’re really not trying to date. There could be a million good reasons – they get nervous, they start talking and get caught up with the story, they’re so eager to make a good impression they forget to give and take. All fair, all understandable, and if you like a person, I think it’s great to give them a second shot. But if someone doesn’t want to know enough about you to fill a third of a page, why do you want to know anything about them? Even if hanging with them was a pretty good time?

Look, some dates have their own flow. A night can take off and the chat gets so great that you finish and find you have no idea how you got where you are. That date is a success, and the Test of 5 Questions isn’t for you. But if you’ve just had a hug and a peck on the cheek and wondered, “what exactly happened back there?”, then the 5 Q’s may be the answer you need. Try it. Then email me and tell me how you did.

Posted in Advice | 7 Comments

Do People Actually Wear Christmas Sweaters on Dates? Yes, They Do

Posted on July 19, 2012 by B

Fucking assholes

There are people who can pull off seasonal clothing, I think we can all agree on that. Babies, grandmas, little kids who get forced into it by their parents who want to take pictures that will subtly mock them for the rest of their lives — these are the people who can pull of Christmas sweaters. Or socks that have little pictures of pumpkins on them. Or a broach with the Easter bunny’s head popping out of a cracked egg. Frankly no one should be doing it, but if you’re distinctly young or distinctly old and you really want a picture of Frosty The Snowman on your boob, go for it. You will notice however that nowhere do I list “Internet dater” as someone who gets the special seasonal outfit dispensation. In fact, I would probably say the last person on the face of the earth who should be wearing holiday-themed clothing is someone going out on a date with a person they’ve never met. Unless you’re dating Santa Claus, in which case it would probably put him at ease. I, however, am most certainly not Santa Claus…

She walked into the coffee shop on the 5th of July, and she was wearing an American flag top. But really, that doesn’t do it justice. The entirety of her shirt was an American flag, with the stars up around her left shoulder, and then the stripes wrapping around the rest of her torso. There are flags flying outside of people’s houses that are more discrete. And it was covered in little gems that I believe were to signify fireworks. It was, needless to say, an extremely patriotic fashion choice. Especially considering it’s the 4th of July that people traditionally use to celebrate our independence. After a few excitement-filled minutes…

Imagine this, but in a shirt.

Her: So…do you like my shirt?

Me (impressively genuine): Yes, it’s very festive!

Her: Yeah, I wore it yesterday to my friend’s cookout. So it might smell a little like the grill.

I’m pretty sure the smelling bit was a joke. Pretty sure. But the only thing worse than wearing a holiday shirt the day after the holiday actually happened is admitting that you’re wearing that shirt for the second day in a row. Whether it smells like hamburgers and hot dogs in addition is really insignificant. It has never occurred to me to pull anyone aside, much less a date, and whisper “psssst…see this shirt? I’ve been in it for two days. You think I can make it to three?” But maybe it’s my lack of imagination.

But truth be told, the rest of the date was fairly innocuous. She was a perfectly sweet girl, and in fact very nice looking, there just wasn’t a tremendous spark. I considered writing about her for this site, but didn’t think one odd fashion choice on one particular day was really worthy of remark. I mean, pretty much every fashion choice I make is odd. But then, last night, my mind was changed…

I was out at a bar with an old friend, when who should walk in but Lady Liberty herself! I was surprised to instantly recognize her, as our date was a few years ago. My friend saw me react and immediately asked for the story. So I explain to her the business about the shirt and the hamburgers and the 5th of July, and then as she sits down I get a good look at her and…Holy God In Heaven She’s Wearing a Christmas Sweater!!! A Christmas Sweater! On February 24th! Two white little reindeer dancing around on a field of bright red wool! The girl who I remember only for wearing out of season seasonal clothing has now reappeared in out of season seasonal clothing! My head was going to explode.

“Seriously lady, it’s almost March.”

Immediately I was filled with questions. Does she only own holiday outfits? And if so, Valentine’s Day was two weeks ago, how did it get skipped in the rotation? Or does she know that I still remember the American flag number and just showed up to fuck with my mind? Maybe she’s just a confused old lady who had really good plastic surgery? And what does her dry cleaner say when she drops off a snappy Thanksgiving vest in the middle of September?

I may never know the answers to these questions, as I was too timid to ask her before she darted off into the night. Hopefully I’ll see her again one day, perhaps this summer, wearing her favorite Black History Month tank top. Or on Christmas Eve, dressed in her Arbor Day best. Or…well, you can see where I’m going with this…

Posted in Horror Stories | Leave a comment

How is This My Match: Transvestite Edition

Posted on July 13, 2012 by B

The only reason I hold on to my Match account these days is for the Daily 5. OKCupid is a better, faster, and more importantly, cheaper site – but the women it recommends to me are nowhere near as insane. Don’t get me wrong, OKCupid is very very bad at suggesting potential mates. As we’ve highlighted in previous editions of HiTMM, the Cups has offered me such fine companions as a half-woman half-tree, a polygamist, and a woman who enjoys licking knives. All winners, to be sure. But when I want a really doozy, a real “how could any human or bizarre computer logarithm possibly think this match would end in anything less than a murder suicide,” I turn to Match.com. Because only their Daily 5 can come up with an idea for my love life that is even worse than the ones I come up with on my own. And that’s sorta comforting. What suggestions did Match have for me this week?

Well how about this…uh…gal?

Seriously. How is THIS My Match?

33 year-old Woman/ Status: Currently Seperated

I mean, come on. Come on come on come on. That is not, you know, technically speaking, a woman. And look, I’m all for non-traditional lifestyles, going your own way, doing your own thing. and I actually think it’s very cool of this gentleman to have a dating profile of himself in drag. But really, Match? This is one of the 5 best people you could find for me to date today? Nic Cage in a wig? You can’t do any better that? Say maybe an old lady, or a very attractive thirty-something who recently passed away? I don’t know, maybe this is just Match’s way of throwing its hands in the air. It’s as if the Daily 5 is saying, “Look B, or whatever your name is, you’ve been on this site for a few years now, and we’ve recommended pretty much everyone we could think of. Short chicks, tall chicks, skinny chicks, fat chicks, and none of them were clicking with you, so this is our last idea. Chicks with dicks. Take it or leave it. If this one doesn’t work for you, you’re on your own.”

Initially, I wanted to give Match a break. I mean, how is it supposed to know that a dude put on some makeup and dropped his profile in the lady category? It’s not like they can personally review every member on their site, and you can’t expect them to crack some elaborate transvestite code in the guy’s post to reveal he’s a man. And then I read his post.

Her Idea of a Great Date: I am looking for STR8 men who this may be their first time with a special kind of friend like me. I prefer in shape and HIV negative guys like me.

Here’s an idea Match, how about all profiles in the female category that uses the term “STR8 men” gets a red flag? Not sure we need the guy from “A Beautiful Mind” to crack that code. Also, something tells me the standard gal doesn’t put in a specific request for “In shape and HIV negative” dates. And finally, when a woman says she’s looking for “guys like me,” it may be a pretty good sign that she’s actually, you know, a GUY. Again, more power to this dater looking for his kinda date, and if he doesn’t want to place himself in the male for male section of Match, I’m fine with that too. Just please don’t put him in my Daily 5. Because that makes we want to cry. And use OkCupid more often.

I do kinda wonder what sort of relationship he’s “currently separated” from though, don’t you? Anyway…

How is This My Match?!

Have questions for It’s Not a Match, or horrible dates your website has set you up with? Email ‘B’ with your quandries!

Posted in How is This My Match? | 8 Comments

5 Things To Do Before Your Internet Date

Posted on July 6, 2012 by B

Anxiety medication. The best friend to Internet daters everywhere.

I’m getting more and more questions from first time Internet daters, which is utterly charming. Oh, the excitement and misery they must feel! Here’s a little something that can help them, and the grizzled veterans out…the 5 things you should do before an Internet date.

1) Get Alright with Getting Nervous

I’ve lost track of how many Internet dates I’ve been on. I used to say over 100, but that was many Internet dates ago, so I guess I could say over 150, but that kinda makes me want to kill myself. So I’m sticking with “a lot.” Or, how about this: I’ve been on a frigging lot of Internet dates and still, shockingly, get nervous before each one. Not super nervous, I’m not fumbling for my bottle of Klonopin on the way into the bar or anything, but there are definitely butterflies. Especially if it’s someone I’m particularly excited to meet. I guess it makes sense, I mean, you should be nervous when you’re minutes away from meeting a woman who could just as likely be your future wife as your future ax murderer. So get cool with that excited/scared sensation before your date. Do a few jumping jacks to burn off the extra energy, or, you know, just guzzle down a couple mouthfuls of gin. Both work great.

2) Reread Your Date’s Profile

Earlier this week I was rushing to make a date, and didn’t have a chance to remind myself of her particulars before I arrived. But it’s cool, I can wing it, right? I’ve been on more than 100 (but definitely less than 150) of these of these bad boys. So I arrived, gave her a hug, and confidently asked, “What’s new in the world of law and order?” Which would be a totally cool and logical way to say hello to a lawyer, but a pretty atrocious way to introduce yourself to a kindergarten teacher. Which is what she actually was. So unless you wanna break my record of shortest amount of time required to look like an ass, reread your date’s profile before arriving. And while you’re at it, take special note of your companion’s name. Because “Great to meet you, pal!” is a pretty unimpressive way to begin an evening.

Funny in a movie, not funny on a date.

3) Commit to a Hug or Handshake

In many ways, the most complicated moment of a first Internet encounter happens at “Hello.” Do you hug this person you’ve never seen before in your entire life? Or do you give them a handshake, to make sure the whole thing feels as much like a real estate transaction as possible? It’s tricky. You could also do nothing physical at all, just sorta nod at them like you’re in a secret society and hope they don’t think you have a mental problem. I’m a hugger, myself, but it’s definitely backfired on multiple occasions. Some women are just not down to hug a dude they know nothing about, and I don’t blame ’em. But here’s the thing: no matter what you choose, commit to it. If you’re cool, confident, and comfortable, you could start your evening with a flying chest bump and your date would be down with it. OK, I mean, don’t start your date with a flying chest bump, that would be awful, but you get my point. The worst introduction you can give is an uncertain one: leaning in for a hug, retracting, leaning in again, changing course and offering up a limp hand for a shake, then re-committing to the hug too late and bumping into your poor partner’s outstretched arm. It’s a nightmare. Don’t Woody Allen the hell out of your first minute knowing someone — pick a greeting in advance and stick to it.

4) Come Up With One Go-To Anecdote

No matter how jazzy a connection you’ve got on your hands, there will be at least one lull in conversation with your new companion. Don’t worry, it happens to the best of us. And, alternately, me. When things get slow, I usually lean on stories of past dating disasters, because hey, I’ve got plenty of ’em – but if you’re new to Match, you may not have this bounty in your back pocket. So, feel free to steal my stories and make them your own!  Or, and this is a gem from the vault, kids…ask for your date’s advice. On some funny little issue you’re having with a friend, or a great place for a birthday dinner, or what to tell your Dad when he won’t stop texting you asking how the date is going. Nothing heavy or weird, just a quirky little problem you too can tackle together. It immediately breeds companionship and shows that you value your partner’s advice. And it’s something to talk about. OK, evil date manipulation tip over.

Hey, baby.

5) DON’T Text Your Date and Tell Them What You’re Wearing

I hate it when people do this. I’ve seen seven pictures of you online, why do I need to know you’re wearing a brown coat to spot you in a mostly empty bar? Also, even if I had no idea what you looked like, it wouldn’t be that hard to pick out the one woman sitting alone with that expectant look in her eye that says, “Please let him be at least 5’6″! Please let him be at least 5’6”! When a lady texts me before a date and asks what I’ll be wearing, my answer is, 100% of the time, “a suit of armor.” Admittedly, there are probably more mature ways of handling the situation, but I just guzzled down a couple mouthfuls of gin, so how much can you really expect of me?

Alright. Ready, set, date!

Posted in Advice | 5 Comments

What Happens When You Date Someone Under 25

Posted on June 29, 2012 by B

I get a lot of emails asking how young is too young to date. And, not surprisingly, most of these emails come from men. Ok, all of these emails come from men. So as a way of answering these “gentlemen,” here’s what happened when, for the first time, I went out with a girl under 25.

Hey baby, you come here often?

Normally, I don’t date young women. I’m 32 (as far as you know), and anyone under 28 usually feels a little…undercooked to me. But a friend of mine, who is, let’s say, a douchebag, recently made an impassioned case. “Younger women are more fun,” he douched, “they’re better looking, and they haven’t been messed up by bad experiences with other guys yet.” He liked to do the messing up himself, you see. This was a gentleman who only after great argument could I get to raise his desired age range from 18-22 to 18-25 on Match. And he’s 35. Did I mention he’s a douchebag? For some reason though, from this person who one should never take advice, I took advice. And of course, because it’s this site, I regretted it deeply.

The girl I chose for my youth experiment was 23. Actually, the one I first chose was 24, but she stood me up – the only time that’s happened in the 100+ Internet dates I’ve attended. A person who is wise would probably have taken that as a sign, but such a person would probably not detail each one of their dating failures on the Internet for others to read, so why even go down that road? 23, however, did show, and she was surprisingly delightful.

She was quiet, to be sure, but had some zip on her fastball once I coaxed her out of her shell. She was a journalism student and from my hometown (as far as you know) of Boston, so my interest was piqued. And, yes, alright, I’ll admit that she was quite attractive. But in that 23 year-old, gravity doesn’t exist, I never have to go to the gym so I really haven’t earned looking the way I do sort of way. So there’s only so much credit you can give for that. But it was a nice and very mature first date, and much to my surprise, I asked her for a second. Say it with me now…big mistake.

I believe she walked right through the middle of this…

I don’t know when people learn to carry umbrellas or buy umbrellas or well, own coats, but apparently it is 24 years and up. It was raining the night of my second date with 23, and she was soaked. But not in the normal way that people get soaked when they’re caught in the rain on the way from the subway or when waiting for a cab – she was SOAKED. Like she had drowned but forgotten to pass away. Dripping, sopping, preposterously wet, from head to toe. I asked her what happened and she looked at me like a crazy person. Obviously further explanation was needed. “You’re so wet,” I said. “Oh, yeah, I had to walk.” That’s all she said. “I had to walk.” Like it was a sentence for a crime she’d committed.  She had walked twenty blocks in the pouring rain and not stopped to get a $3 umbrella or a $6 taxi at any point. Now she was going to sit down with me for dinner in clothes that were more water than fabric and try to have a pleasant evening? It was ridiculous. Her clothes were sticking to her. There were puddles under her shoes. It was the sort of thing a 5 year-old would do. They’d laugh and dance and play in the rain, then when you explained to them that they’d now have to be wet for the rest of the evening, they’d look at you confused and forsaken. The polite sushi ladies were apoplectic, and as usual I was right there with them. (Polite sushi ladies and I agree on most things.) I was growing concerned with my plan to master the under-28s…

We talked for a bit, but 23 was, understandably, quite fidgety. The quietness I noted during our first date seem to expand when wet, and complete sentences were getting hard to come by. The night was officially entering the awkward zone, and for the fifty or sixtieth time in my life I was cursing My Friend The Douchebag. Then a strange thing happened. Or rather, a stranger thing. She just…stopped talking. I asked 23 what her plans were after she graduated (did I forget to mention that she was still finishing up college? I don’t know how I could’ve forgotten that…), and she didn’t respond. Not immediately, or anytime close thereafter. It had to have been at least a minute of silence. Not really sure what to do, I decided to just ask the question again and see what happened. Again, no response. There didn’t seem to be anything else to do but wait.

The only thing the night was missing…

The night took on sort of a bizarre subtext from that point. Basically, it was a game show. I would say something, then she would wait as long as humanly possible to respond. Unwilling to bend to the pressure, I would wait longer still to fill the empty air with a follow-up remark. It was as if whoever could stand the awkwardness the longest would receive a wonderful showcase of prizes and vacations to exotic lands. Really though all either of was going to win was a confused trip home. Alone. But it didn’t stop us from giving it our all. I would open my mouth, about to say something, then close it and turn away. She would lean in, look like she was going to explain exactly what had gone wrong, then grab an California roll and pop it in her mouth. It was breathtaking really, and a performance that far exceeded her age.  If I had any idea what was going on, I probably would’ve swooned with delight.

The evening ended anti-climatically with 23, as she gave me a damp half-hug goodbye and scuttled off into the night. I never figured out exactly what I did to upset or aggressively disinterest her, but I imagine it was my fault. I have that sort of way with women. I did learn one thing beyond all measure however: do not, under any circumstances, listen to the douchebags. Date who you want to date, and if you’re 32 then 23 is most definitely way too young.

Posted in Horror Stories, Internet Dating is Weird | 8 Comments

The Best Excuse To Cancel a Date Ever

Posted on June 21, 2012 by B

The good ol’ days.

You always remember your firsts, you know? For normal people, it’s their first kiss, or the first time a woman’s smile took their breath away, or the first time they fell in love. For me, it’s a little different. I still remember the first time an Internet date stood me up. Or the first girl to tell me about a date that set her hair caught on fire. Or, and I’m starting to get a little misty-eyed here, the first date to confess that she kinda hates the Jews. Ahhhhh the memories. But when you’ve been on as many Internet dates as I have, you start to worry that maybe you don’t have any firsts left. I’ve kinda done everything. My first date with a zombie would be notable. Or a vampire. Or a zombie-vampire pair of Siamese twins? That was all I saw on the horizon of new experiences, until now. For just recently, I experienced a first I’d never imagined, and one that surprised even my withered, senile heart. And it came in the form of an excuse.

I had been seeing a girl for a few weeks that I genuinely quite liked. As the girls that I genuinely quite like often are, she was a little kooky. And while kooky is great in conversation, and totally endearing on email, it’s not necessarily ideal when it comes time to make plans. On the plus side, she was so nervous before our first that as the evening ended, she genuinely forgot where she’d parked her car. That’s gotta make you smile, right? On the minus side, she also genuinely forgets what her schedule is pretty much every night of the week. Not as smiley. Finally though, after a bit of back and forth, we achieved a plan for Friday night drinks at 8pm. Sure enough, at the stroke of 7, I get a voicemail.

Hey, it’s me. I’m sorry, I really wanted to see you tonight, but I’m going to have to cancel. I’m feeling sick, and I’m seeing someone with full-blown AIDS this weekend, so I can’t get him to get sick too.

Now that is definitely a first. The first time a terminal disease is used as a reason to cancel a date. Honestly, it was amazing. Partially because I knew it was true, I mean, who make such a thing up? And it fits her personality – some people are just not the sort to cancel because “something came up.” That’s what makes those people great. But mostly because it blew me away because, well, it’s AIDS. You don’t hear AIDS too often in the early stages of a relationship. Certainly not as a reason they need to cancel an evening. “Sorry, I can’t make it to the movie tonight, my Aunt has Polio, and I really need to check in on her.” “Oh, I’d love meet your parents for dinner, but my leprosy has been acting up, so I better stay close to home.” And thank goodness she the included the “full-blown” part, just to give the whole thing a little legitimacy. I mean, if I found out her friend only had HIV, I would’ve been PISSED. And she topped it off with the potential of death. I think that’s the hat trick. Now, I don’t want to be making light of someone having a serious disease here, obviously that’s not funny, but to have said disease used as an excuse for missing a fourth date, well, that was really something.

Now, what you are wondering is…what would be a good excuse for missing a date? And as always, dear reader, I have the answer. The sure-fire, guaranteed, never fails, break glass in case of emergency explanation for why you have to back out of a date is…a friend’s birthday party. Works every time. Makes you seem loyal and reliable as a friend, and cloaks your plans in the perfect combination of vagueness and specificity to seem plausible. Just make sure that the next time you seem the person you’ve cancelled on that you’re prepared for the “Oh, so how was your friends your birthday party?!” follow up. Because I can tell you from experience, “Uh…what, uh, what birthday party?” is not an impressive response. Also know this: from now on, whenever someone tells they can’t hang out because a friend’s bday just came up, you’ll wonder whether they’re making the whole thing up. So…enjoy that!

Posted in Advice, Internet Dating is Weird | 5 Comments

Why You Should Never Take a Date to a Concert

Posted on June 15, 2012 by B

No idea why this doesn’t make for a better date.

I have a long held rule about taking dates to the theater. I love theater. And I love girls who love theater. But I found that every time I would ask a girl to check out the next big thing on Broadway, she would happily accept, allow me to shell out big time for the tickets, then break up with me as soon as humanly possible afterwards. It happened at least five times. It got to the point where they had to change the stage manager’s announcement to, “Please silence your cellphones, refrain from taking flash photography, and abstain from breaking up until after the show has completed. The weeping is becoming a distraction.” After a few years of this bullshit, I made my rule: never take a date to the theater. If I were smart, I would’ve banned concerts as well. But if I were smart, this website wouldn’t exist. So let’s all thank God for little favors…

In my one and only attempt at speed dating, I met a girl who said she was afraid of mirrors, another who admitted that she’d never dated a man who hadn’t read Lord of the Rings and wasn’t gonna start now, and Janis. Speed dating is great because in the time it normally takes to have one bad date, you can have fifteen little ones that are just as bad. But Janis was surprisingly, alarmingly, cool. She had The Big Three: good looks, intelligence, and sense of humor – which would be great if there weren’t eleven other men discovering that at the exact same time. I urged her to dumb it down for the rest of her encounters that night, maybe rub a little mud on her face, perhaps conjure up a decent fart every now and again. She laughed, accepted my phone number, and promised she’d call. A solid fart joke can do that to a woman.

Did she call? Yes. Was that a good that? Probably not. For the rest of the story, buy my new book Not a Match: My True Tales of Online Dating Disasters. 

Available for your ereader on Amazon and iTunes. Only $2.99! Help support the site!

Posted in Horror Stories, It's Not a Match Classic | 8 Comments

IM: The Best Way to Get Someone To Hate You

Posted on June 8, 2012 by B

“How’s it hanging, buster?”

It’s not a stellar way to begin a conversation with anyone. But if it’s how you begin an Instant Message conversation with a person you’ve never met, chances are the two of you aren’t going to fall in love. But honestly, I can’t really blame the woman who sent me this, or all the other failed attempts at romance via IM that I’ve encountered over the years. It’s just a bad wooing format.

I mean, Imagine you’re walking down the street, minding your own business, perhaps listening to your iPod. You’re thinking about your day, what you’re gonna eat for dinner, if should call your Mom later, and then all of a sudden……………BAM!

Someone’s mug is all up in your shit. “Hi! How are you! How’s it going! My name’s Kathy! How’s it hanging, BUSTER?!” It’s uncomfortable. No matter how attractive they are, no matter how clever their intro, you’re taken aback. This is a stranger, in your face, and now you have to deal with them. OK, so you take a second. What do I say to this lady who–

BAM AGAIN. “Sorry, HI! Am I interrupting?! I don’t want to interrupt. You just seem cool! So I just wanted to say HI!” She won’t stop talking, and you don’t know what to do. Is it insulting to just not respond?  OK, you’re just going to not respond. Maybe she’ll go away.

BAM #3. “Are you not gonna respond?! Cause that’s kinda rude. Are you there?! HELLO?! HELLLLO?!” And that’s when you turn around and run in the opposite direction.

People don’t like being ambushed. Especially when, if you’re dating online, there’s a whole lot of reading to do before you know how to respond to said ambush. The immediate message function on these sites makes sense, I suppose, if you’ve been emailing a bit and want to step the contact up a level. But that has never happened to me. The only people who IM me are ones who I’ve never spoken to or seen before, and seem incredibly drunk. So then I have to go to their profile, read it through quickly to see what they’re like, realize that they seem drunk more or less all the time, and then watch them IM me over and over and pretend this isn’t happening.

I’m not saying it can’t work, I’m just saying I doubt it will work. Let’s put it this way: I can remember emails that won me over and dates that blew my mind, but for the life of me I can’t remember a single detail from a single chat I’ve had over IM in my entire life. Other than the girl who asked me how it all was hanging, of course. Isn’t that all you need to know?

Posted in Advice, Internet Dating is Weird | 4 Comments