the hunter and the hunted

Today’s topic comes from my new friend Brian, a nice young gentleman I met at a writing conference a few weeks ago (a nice, intelligent, fun young guy actually out in the real world? Wow, they do exist…unicorns and leprechauns must not be far behind.)  After reading “Single in the City,” Brian asked me for my thoughts on women actively pursuing men, inspired by a webcomic written by one of his friends.

“It’s kind of a given that men do it,” Brian said of flirting, “but at what point should a woman allow herself the freedom to drop-chick that chick with the nasty weave out of the way, and go after that guy she wants so much?”

Well, Brian, I suppose I’ll start off with the diplomatic answer, and say that all girls are different in their approach to (ahem) approaching men.  I know girls who relish the hunt as much as any guy, and have no problem walking up to a dude in a bar or a coffeeshop or at work or wherever and striking up a conversation.  I also know girls who are steadfastly old-school, who believe it is strictly the man’s job to do the pursuing; that if they want it, they have to come and get it.  And then there are lots of girls who fall somewhere in between.  In theory, I belong to Group A: I believe that a girl is well within her rights to actively pursue any guy she’s interested in, even if it does mean drop-kicking some chick with a nasty weave.  This doesn’t necessarily come from a place of post-feminist, “it’s the 21st century, for Christ’s sake”  female-empowerment – I just hate inaction.  Be straightforward.  If you want something, go get it, whether it’s a job, a house, entrance to a school, or that tasty muffin sitting at the other end of the bar.

However, if I’m going to be truly honest with myself,  in practice I more often fall into Group C these days – I’ll approach guys, but with trepidation and not nearly as actively as I might like to.  A laundry list of rejections and figurative face-plants and a host of absurd dating “rules” will do that to a girl.  I know for a fact.  Back in the day, when I was young and naive and therefore uber-confident, I walked up to the boy who would become my first boyfriend, on the last day of the community theater play were were performing in together, and said, “Hey, I really like you.  Can we still see each other after the show ends?”  Sure, I was nervous, and sort of shell-shocked when he said yes, but the fact that I could even do such a brazen thing with such self-assurance – well, it’s bona-fide proof of the hubris of youth.  Give it a few more years, and countless instances of being dumped, cheated on, fucked with, rejected and outrightly ignored, and any girl will second-, third- and fourth-guess any move she makes with a guy.

Which is really why I think women do not pursue men as actively as they want to.  Because we want to.  As I’ve said before, there is one fundamental element that all women share – we always know what we want.  And when we want a guy, we are all more than willing to drop-kick any and all competition right out of the game.  When we have our eye on a guy who has his eye on somebody else, we know that we are sexier, smarter, and better in bed than she is, and we would be 10 times the girlfriend she would be.  But of course, we can’t go up to a guy and say that, because then we would be “bitches” and “jealous” and “catty.”  Nor can a woman pursue a guy as actively as she may like (give him her phone number, call him, ask him out, etc.) without fear of being dubbed “needy” or “desperate” or “crazy.”

And so…we sit.  And we wait.  And we act aloof and uninterested, because that’s what experience and advice has told us to do, even if we’re completely convinced the guy who took us out for dinner or who’s sitting at the other end of the bar is our soul mate,  and all we want to do is talk to him and get to know him better.  And drop-kick the chick with the nasty weave out of our way.

Is it fun?  Hell no.  Is it healthy?  Probably not.  I don’t know how many times I’ve sat in a bar or by my phone and wished that I could somehow get back that naively confident 15-year-old who is completely convinced of her power and infallibility, who is not afraid to go up to the guy she’s attracted to, and say, “Hey, I like you.”  As it is, I sit there and calculate and hedge my bets and negotiate the tightrope that we all apparently have to walk on when it comes to the opposite sex, and wish that it all wasn’t so damn complicated.

So now I’m curious, guys…what is an appropriate level of aggressiveness for a girl to show in pursuing you?  Leave your thoughts in the comments.

well there’s your problem

Ahh, the Internets.  I don’t think I’ll ever tire of singing its praises for bringing everything from driving directions to this gem right to our fingertips.  And on a day when an earnest blogger is feeling particularly unfocused and misanthropic, it can be a lifesaver.  I returned from lunch this afternoon, knowing that I had put off posting as long as I could, but still uncommitted to any topic besides an emo, expletive-ridden rant about how much life sucks (nothing in particular is wrong, I’m just having a glass-is-half-empty kind of day).  However, knowing that I can’t subject anyone except my spiral-bound black notebook (and maybe my mom) to those thoughts, I turned to my safety ‘Net (cue cymbal crash) and found some very interesting information on the relationship and pop culture web site TheFrisky.com: a link to The Daily Beast’s Best (and Worst) Cities to Meet Men.

Honestly, if my desk was a car I would have slammed on the breaks and squealed to a halt in dramatic, cartoonish fashion.  Here, maybe, was the answer to all of my problems – proof that Philadelphia, while a very historical, dynamic city, is lacking in the eligible bachelors department, as well as advice on what greener pastures may lie beyond the borders of I-95 and City Avenue.

I got what I wanted – sort of.  Lo and behold, Philadelphia was ranked 25 out of 37 for meeting men.  According to the  Daily Beast’s “research,” “Women outnumber guys in our nation’s erstwhile capital, and local dating expert Martin Milton warns against asking Philly’s bachelors about their feelings—apparently they’re not the sensitive types.”  Well, I already knew the latter and have long-suspected the former, so…yay for validation?  I’m sure I’ll never say this again, but I kind of wish I would have been wrong.

So, then, which city should I pack my bags and head for?  According to the Daily Beast, Atlanta, Boston, Seattle, San Francisco, Minneapolis-St. Paul, D.C., Austin, Miami, San Diego and Denver are the creme de la creme of cities in which to meet dudes.  Or so they said.

I quickly got the insider’s dirt on Atlanta; my friend Stefan is originally from there, and has always spoken derisively of it.  His assessment of their #1 choice? “Place is a fucking dump…and the social scence (sic) does not cook.”  (And this from a guy who’s lived in Philly for several years.)  I was wont to chalk it up to one person’s personal vendetta against their hometown (I, too, have very few good things to say about my place of birth), but testimonials from current or former residents of the top 10 cities indicated that maybe this list was to be taken with more than a grain of salt.

On TheFrisky.com, FunnyHairpin wrote, “I live in Atlanta, and I’m clearly not going to the right places.”  HarlemGirl wrote, “All of the men that I know it Atlanta are gay.”  And clw4170 posted, “Atlanta is one of the WORST cities in which to meet quality men.  (Sorry to the small number of great available men in the area…)  Most men are only looking for a hookup and nothing more.  On top of that, there are entirely too many young, drunk college girls willing to give them exactly what they want so that they don’t look for anything more meaningful. I’d love to know where the guys who are looking for committed relationships are found in the city—I’ve had no luck!”

Granted, I know those are only three opinions out of a population of over 510,000, but other commentators had similiar things to say about D.C., Minneapolis-St. Paul,  Boston, Austin, Memphis, Seattle, San Francisco, etc.  But what was really interesting was that a lot of the comments were not attacks on a particular city, but rather the dating culture of that city – and dating culture in general.

Like C.Munro commented on TheFrisky.com: “Austin is a great place to hook up if you’re a guy, that’s indisputable.  For serious dating/settling down, well, maybe not so much.  It’s like a buffet down there.  Austin is one of those places that makes it more fun to be single than dating.”  A lot of comments reflected similiar sentiments: “[Insert city name] is a great place to go out and party and hook up, but if you’re looking for anything more than that, good luck!”  Some people wrote like this is a good thing, and I’m sure to those people who are just looking for a fun no-strings-attached hookup, it is a good thing.  But what about all the people out there who are looking for something more?  I’m not even talking about marriage, necessarily; something more substantial than a one-night stand, but not has hardcore as a long-term relationship.  Something like, say, dating?  That, it seems, is something impossible to find, no matter where you go.

Maybe it’s just that I was being a Debbie Downer today, but reading the comments on this article on TheFrisky.com and The Daily Beast, I couldn’t help but think that we’re all doomed (not really.  I mean, well, kind of.)  It was yet another one of those roundhouse-kick-to-the-face moments when you’re struck by how many people out there have no idea how to find, conceive and sustain a healthy, functional relationship.  I’m not trying to criticize anyone’s choices when it comes to interaction with the opposite sex – one-night stands and no-strings-attached hookups and booty calls are all fine and dandy, but I can’t help but worry that our society’s general acceptance and reliance on this form of “relationship” is going to come back and bite us in the ass.  I’m not saying we all have to run out and get married tomorrow, but learning how to have a successful, functioning relationship takes time and practice, and that is not something you get by banging a different person every night.

The kicker is that there are plenty of people out there who just want to date, who understand the benefits of it.  But we’re like an underground cult, like the Resistance, meeting in deserted bars and dingy basements, a tiny undercurrent in the great big sea of people who only want to fuck and run.

And that, my friends, is a big problem.

On a brighter note, TheFrisky.com writer, John DeVore, who I sliced and diced in Single and the City a few weeks ago, redeemed himself with this wonderful ode to the world’s least-respected sexual position.

the friend zone

I had fully intended today to write my thoughts on “Company,” the musical I saw at Kutztown University Saturday night, and how it was the story of my life and therefore nearly brought me to tears; however, yesterday some of my loyal readers (a.k.a. friends) bombarded me with a bevy of blog topics.  Since I am apparently the voice for hundreds (ok, a few) repressed, pissed-off women (and occasionally men) out there, I figured I could put  “Company” on the back burner for another day or two, and talk about somebody other than myself for a change (although I will wind up talking about myself, I’m sure.)

Anyway, today, for your consideration, we have the following statement from the one and only Jess Lembo: “Male best friends are a mindfuck.”  And how.  Jess told me this during a Facebook Chat conversation, and she went on to explain the impetus for this revelation.  Her best male friend, who is currently living in Virgina, came up to visit Jess in PA last weekend.  The two of them were roommates when they were in college, and were very close friends, and even crossed the threshhold into a physical relationship, but while they talked about taking their relationship to the next level, it never happened.  It was partly due to the fact that he was moving to another state, Jess said, but there were other reasons too – mostly, she said, fear (on his part) of “what would happen if things didn’t work out between us.”  Of course, as she told me, that didn’t stop him from putting the moves on her while he was visiting this weekend, or from clinging to her side the whole time he was visiting.  Hence, the mindfuck.

“I feel like I’m his safety net,” Jess said.

Indeed, the friend zone is a tangled web to be caught in, one that will fuck with your head until you want to cry or scream or punch someone in the nuts.  A few weeks ago I wrote a post in response to a YourTango article about how women often place men in a “friend zone,” casting them as undateable for some elusive reason.  I suppose today’s post would be a response to my own previous post, from the female’s perspective, because guess what, fellas – bitch all you want, but chicks get put into the friend zone just as much as you do.

Nearly every girl I know, myself included, has at one point or another, unsuspectingly, inexplicably been shunted into that relationship Siberia, branded undateable, but still cool/smart/funny/nice enough to be friends with (and try to sleep with, of course.  Doesn’t the whole idea of being just friends mean that you DON’T want to sleep with us?  I’m confused.).  I’m honestly not sure why it happens; guys like to give a lot of cock-and-bull reasons (including my favorite, the guy who told my friend Julie that they could never date because she had hooked up with one of his friends a few years ago, before Julie and this guy even knew each other.) but I think there are really two root causes for this behavior: fear and the idea that the grass is always greener.

The thing is, the older I get, the more of life and men I see, the more I realize that men are big fucking cowards.  No offense, guys, and I’m sorry to blow your cover (thin though it may be), but you’re all kind of pussies.  In my experience, any time anything remotely unpleasant, hurtful, difficult, harsh, etc. is broached, especially when it comes to relationships, it’s because a woman steps up and does it.  I’m not saying I like things this way, or that they have to be this way, but in my experience, and that of my female friends, that’s just the way it is.  So, when it comes to taking the plunge from friends to lovers (in the emotional sense, not the fucking sense, because we all know men have no problem with that), I believe fear holds a lot of men back.  Fear of losing a friend if things don’t work out (which is valid, don’t get me wrong) and maybe fear of what will happen if things do work out.  Another interesting thing I’ve noticed along the way is that many of the women who get relegated to the friend zone are very strong, independent women – women who are caring and loving and would make excellent girlfriends or wives, but who aren’t going to take any bullshit from the men in their lives.  And I think sometimes it’s a lot easier for men to keep those girls as friends, to give them a mental (or physical) punch in the gut when they need it, but seek out a weaker, more coddling, less outspoken female as their relationship counterpart.  Anyway, it’s a theory.

As for the other theory, about the grass being greener on the other side – we all know men like bigger, better, faster, stronger.  Why wouldn’t that apply to women as well?  No matter if a guy has a “friend” who is a near-perfect match; his masculine vanity is telling him he can do better.  There’s a certain degree of masochism to it, as well, I think.  All my compatriots in the friend zone have seen their guys go through bad date after bad date, bad girlfriend after bad girlfriend, and the only explanation can be that they like to torture themselves in this manner, because if they really wanted a good, devoted woman, they already have a willing party.  (Of course, there’s a certain level of masochism required on the part of the friend, as well, to lend a willing ear to all of this drama.)

The biggest mindfuck of all, however, is knowing that, despite how much we may curse being put in the friend zone, we’re all guilty of doing it to other people.  We are.  Don’t try to deny it – I’ve done it, you’ve done it, we’ve all done it. It’s a vicious circle, a cat-and-mouse game men and women play.  I can’t say I know why (I have a feeling if I could explain it, I wouldn’t be working 9-to-5 as a secretary getting paid peanuts), nor does it make it any less frustrating for anyone involved.  The best you can do, I think, is chalk it up to another broken link in the disconnect between men and women – and try not to punch people in the nuts out of pent-up frustration.

he’d be perfect…if he wasn’t married

Today’s post topic comes to us courtesy of my friend Sara Gee, who I saw Saturday night when I went up to my alma mater, Kutztown University, to see the Speech and Theatre Department’s outstanding production go Sondheim’s “Company” (but more about that later.)  Before Saturday, Sara Gee had promised me blog fodder, and over a midnight breakfast of eggs and hash browns at Kutztown’s Airport Diner (the retro kitsch, the greasy food, and the consistantly irritated foreign owner never get old), she delivered.

“So, a few weeks ago, I’m in the computer lab, and I start talking to this guy at the computer next to me,” Sara said.  She started counting off on her fingers.  “He’s 29, an ex-Marine, beautiful eyes, a secondary education major – come on, could this guy be any more perfect for me?”

When this gentleman had to leave, he told Sara that he wanted to continue the conversation, so they exchanged phone numbers.  Everything went  swimmingly for a few days – Sara and this guy talked on the phone, they met up again in the coffee shop on campus, he even invited Sara to come visit him at his job as a security guard.  (She declined.)  So far, it looked as if this little Love Boat cruise is sailing on calm waters.

Until a few days later, when Sara was once again talking on the phone to this guy.  “So he asks me, ‘What exactly are you looking for here?’” Sara’s already big brown eyes grew larger.  “‘Because I’m married.’”

“Married?” I almost choked on my bacon.

“Yup,” Sara said.  “He’s married.”

To add insult to injury, this guy felt it necessary to further complicate the matter by complimenting Sara and telling her how attractive she is after dropping the bombshell that he’s MARRIED.

“Why do you have to do that?” Sara asked rhetorically.  “I don’t want you telling me how pretty you think I am.  You’re fucking MARRIED!”

Overall, Sara didn’t seem heartbroken, only disappointed and frustrated, which is completely understandable.  One of the nastiest slaps in the face you can get as a single person is to meet someone who is nice, funny, attractive, completely your type – and taken.  The sooner you find out, the better, so I guess I have to grudgingly give this guy credit for putting the brakes on relatively quickly (I also asked Sara, and she said yes, he did have a wedding ring on, although it was a titanium band, and didn’t look much like a wedding ring.  In this day and age of purity rings and promise rings and what-have-you, I just treat all hand jewelry as a potential red flag.)  However, talk about mixed messages – where the fuck does a married men get off inviting an attractive young twent-something female to visit him at work?  I don’t know for sure, but I think that’s how affairs start.

I’m not saying married people can’t have friends of the opposite sex, that married people have to retreat into their own little colony and only mix with people of their own kind.  Not at all.  But there need to be boundaries, which, at least in my observation, a lot of people have problems with.  I mean (as I said Saturday night to Sara), in what world is it appropriate for a married man to ask another woman to come visit him at his job, which includes him sitting alone in a security booth????? (Extra question marks denote a high-pitched, indignant tone of voice.)  Granted, I’ve never been married, so I don’t know – maybe there’s a learning curve for what’s apropos in a marriage.  But when (or if) I wind up in that position, I would think it would be best to err on the side of caution, because it’s a slippery slope from an innocent, friendly interaction to something more dangerous and harmful.

As for Sara Gee, after ignoring the guy for a few days, she met up with him on campus for a cup of coffee, and they decided to try to be friends.  Since Sara Gee is one of my few friends with a pretty solid moral center (no offense, guys, I have a faulty moral compass as well), I’m sure that won’t be a problem for her.  As far as finding a nice, funny, attractive SINGLE guy…well, the search continues…

where do we go from here?

As promised, today’s post will include a more in-depth analysis of Friday night’s date with Mr. Smooth Operator, who was teetering on the brink of elimination in the “Who Wants to Date Krissy Scatton?” sweepstakes.  (I wonder if VH-1 would snap up that concept for a reality show?  They are the network that is about to bring us, this shitshow so who knows?)  But I digress.

Those of you who checked the blog over the weekend know that the date actually (perhaps anticlimactically) went well.  We went for dinner at a cozy little BYOB up in Old City, had some bangin’ Italian food (including my favorite dish in the whole wide world, lobster ravioli), and enjoyed some nice conversation.  Not that the date wasn’t without its awkward moments.  Twice I had to put my foot down and forbid him from using two different tired, cheesy jokes, which he already overused on our first two dates.  And he did voluntarily admit at one point that he has a tendency to try too hard.  This was the point when I slid on my Awkwardness Cloak (similiar to Harry Potter’s Invisibility Cloak, except an Awkwardness Cloak is red and blinking and tends to make people around you shift nervously in their seats) and kind of nodded, then blathered something about people always being nervous when they meet someone new and want to impress them before hastily and gracelessly changing the subject.  Which I guess makes me a hypocrite for ribbing this guy, since I’m not exactly Slick Rick over here, although I mostly only tend to get awkward in conversation when I’m trying really, really hard to be tactful, because that’s not a normal state of being for me.  It’s like my mouth and my mind get locked in a fight to the death, and I wind up sounding like English is my second language.

At any rate, Friday night was not as bad as it could have been (or frankly, as I was expecting it to be), although I should know by now that  any scenarios that my overly pessimistic mind can dream up are usually 10 times worse than anything that can actually happen (although I don’t like to think of it as pessimistic, I prefer to think of it as prepared.) We don’t have any concrete plans to see each other again this week, but I borrowed one of his CDs to burn, so I feel like there is the understanding that we will see each other again, which is ok with me, but…

But, but, but.  There’s always a but.  The rest of the weekend, as I thought more about Friday night, the more I became certain that I am not interested in anything more than casual dating with this gentleman.  Going out to eat or see a movie or something once a week or so is fine for now, but deep down I’m not feeling the spark that’s telling me to really push for this to go somewhere deeper.  Which of course begs the question, Do I tell him that?

My gut instinct tells me that full disclosure is the way to go – that I should tell him right here and now that I’m not looking for anything more than a casual dating arrangement with him.  However, in my experience, 9 times out of 10, full disclosure is the fastest way for me to end up flat on my face, embarrassed and alone.  This time, part of me really, really, really wants to keep my big trap shut, if only to see if I can, and let the chips fall where they may.  Let him be the one to bring up the “Where is this going?” question for once; I’m tired of it.  My only concern is that leaves me no opportunity to cover my ass – he would be wide open to tell me that I was leading him on.  And, honestly, I would tend to agree with him.  So, as usual, the scenario is something like this: Rock – Krissy – hard place.

Of course, this may all be wild speculation.  For all I know, he could have walked out of his house this morning and tripped over some beautiful, wonderful woman and fallen in love at first sight and forgotten all about me.  Chances are, the things that I worry about today will never come to pass tomorrow.  Maybe for once I should just relax, go with the flow, and look on the bright side – at least I didn’t need that other bottle of wine on Friday.

survivor

I’ll give you all more details on Monday, but just in case you’re dying to know (I know you are)…Mr. Smooth Operator  did NOT get voted off the island last night.  I’m not marrying him, either, but methinks he will live to see another date.  Details at 11 (or Monday)…

help wanted

As some of you know, I am currently a grad student at Rosemont College, working on my MFA in Creative Writing.  In one of my classes this semester, Surviving as a Writer (a paradox, I know), the big final project is a non-fiction book proposal.  We don’t actually have to write the book, just come up with an idea and research it and write the proposal as if we were writing the book.  We pitched our book ideas last week, and mine was about relationships, or, more specifically, how all of our modern communication tools -  text messaging, Facebook, Twitter, online dating, etc. – have changed the dating game.  I thought of this, not because datin is the only thing I think about (although I’m sure it seems that way sometimes), but because I have  talked about this topic many, many times with friends, and I think, from an objective standpoint, it’s a fascinating subject.  The digital revolution changed the way we work, learn, communicate, and, of course, date, but how? And is it a good or bad thing?

Anyway, so today I was working on Phase II of my project, which is to research the competition  – what has already been published on this particular topic.  While there apparently hasn’t been a whole lot published on how the digitial revolution revolutionized dating, at least as far as Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Borders indicated, there is a veritable SHIT-TON of books out there on the subject of dating.  I mean, I know self-help books are a large chunk of the non-fiction publishing market, but I was still floored by the volume of written material out there about finding love, keeping love, getting over love, etc., etc.   It doesn’t matter if you’re a man, woman, teenager, cougar, divorced, gay, Christian, African-American – there is a book out there to tell you how to get laid, get a date or get married.  I’ll include some of the ones that particularly tickled my fancy at the end of this post.

The thing that was interesting to me was the realization that, if all these books are being published, then people must be buying them, which means there must be a lot of people out there who are fucked-up when it comes to relationships.  Not that this is any sort of revelation to me; obviously I know there are tons of people who are fucked-up about relationships, myself included.  It was just the shock of being confronted so blatantly with that information, you know?  Like when you get a shitty haircut, and you manage to forget about it until you pass a mirror and are reminded of what a freak you look like.  Sometimes, when you’re down in the muck and mire of the dating world, you feel like you’re the only one who doesn’t know her ass from a hole in the ground, forgetting that everyone else is just as clueless as you are.  So I guess, in a way, seeing all those titles promising “8 Easy Steps for Attracting Your Perfect Mate” and “10 Strategies That Will Change Your Love Life Forever,” actually made me feel a little better about myself – it’s a reminder that I’m not the only one out there who feels like she doesn’t know what the fuck she’s doing when it comes to romance.

So, the question is, do any of these books actually help?  Well, I guess that’s debatable.  I’ll cop to reading a few here and there, notably He’s Just Not That Into You (which modern woman hasn’t read that?) and Act Like a Lady, Think Like a Man by Steve Harvey (which I just discovered there is a female rebuttal to: Act Like a Gentleman, Think Like a Woman. Add to Wish List!) and while the information in those books has been eye-opening, insightful and er, helpful, it’s always easier said than done.  I think my problem with self-help books is that I’m the type of person who is hell-bent on making her own mistakes; it is damn near impossible to tell me anything for my own good.  So while I may read a book, say to myself, “Wow, that’s smart, I should do that,” there’s only a 50% chance I will actually follow the advice when the situation arises.  Also, I think reading self-help books can be a slippery slope.  Since there’s (obviously) so many of them out there, you could spend your whole life reading advice and anecdotes, and never have time for anything else.  Not to mention that fact that I’m sure some of the books out there give conflicting advice that could end up making the reader more confused.  In the end, the information in self-help books is usually worth considering, but shouldn’t be taken too seriously.  I heard a great quote recently: “There are four things a woman should always listen to: her head, her heart, her gut and her groin.”  Now that is advice worth taking.

Kristen’s Top 10 List of Self-Help Dating Books that Actually Exist:
1. Why Men Love Bitches – From Doormat to Dreamgirl by Sherry Argov
2. How to Approach Hot Women, Date Them & Have Lots of Sex…Without Being an Asshole by Cooper Newman
3. You Lost Him at Hello: A Saleswoman’s Secrets to Closing the Deal with Any Guy You Want by Jess McCann
4. The Mack Within by Tariq Nasheed
5. Wood Nymph Seeks Centaur: A Mythological Dating Guide by Francesca Lia Block
6. Get Serious About Getting Married: 365 Proven Ways to Find Love in Less Than a Year by Janis Spindel and Karen Kelly
7. Fifty Dates Worse Than Yours by Justin Racz
8. Complete Asshole’s Guide to Handling Chicks by Dan Indante and Karl Hicks (for the description alone)
9. Before You Meet Prince Charming: A Guide to Radiant Purity by Sarah Mally (because the title made me LOL)
10. Millions of Women Are Waiting to Meet You by Sean Thomas (I actually did put this book on my wish list, because it sounds funny as hell – and I’m sure I can relate)

P.S.

Apparently, now that I’m a cold-blooded murderer, I can do anything – while I was on lunch, I got a text message from my old “friend” Baby’s Daddy.  Since he obviously didn’t take the hint when I ignored him last time he tried to reach me, I decided that today was the day, once and for all, that I was putting my foot down (my lack of sleep may have had something to do with this as well.)  So this is the text message he received from me:

“I have to be honest with you, it was fun hanging out when I was still at KU, but I’ve moved on, and I think you should too. I’m sorry but it’s how I feel. Take care, bye.”

You gotta love text messages for forcing you to be short and sweet.  Haven’t gotten a response from him yet, so we’ll see what happens.  It does feel good to finally put an end to these shenanigans.  I am woman hear me roar!

tongue tied

Ugh.  Hanging out on Broad Street at 12:30 a.m. to celebrate the Phillies’ impending trip to the World Series seemed like a great idea last night…today, not so much.  (I’m not even hungover, just tired.) That, combined with the fact that I bludgeoned a small, cute, defenseless  – but highly annoying  – rodent to death with my Chucks this morning has made it an interesting day thus far.

Date number three with Mr. Smooth Operator is tomorrow night, and I’m trying to be positive about it, if not because I believe this guy is my soulmate, but because he has enough potential to deserve a fighting chance.  In thinking about it, I guess I see this guy as a “project” – you know, one of those guys who needs to be saved, in this case from his habits of trying desperately to impress me and make me his girlfriend.  I can’t help but feel like I want to sit him down and say, “Look buddy, this is what you need to STOP doing, and this is what you need to START doing in order to get a girl.”  Not as a date, or a potential partner, or anything like that,  but as someone with insight into the female brain, which this guy desperately needs (which a lot of men desperately need, come to think of it.)

But – is it my place to do that?  I’ve only been on three dates with the guy; I don’t owe him anything.  Maybe he should figure it out for himself, like the rest of us.  And, when it comes to guys, the last thing I’m looking for right now is a project.  At this point in my life, if I’m going to be seeing a guy, it has to be low-key, low-stress and fun.  I’m taking a break from the fixer-uppers for awhile.  Furthermore, how do you  politely broach a subject like this?

I asked my friend Stefan about it, and he said, if there is a point in our date when he starts trying too hard, I should say, “Stop trying so hard and just be yourself.  You’re a lot more fun that way.”  Sound advice, but it’s easier said than done.  I highly doubt this guy, with his dog-with-a-bone-esque tendencies, will let it go at that.  How do you tell someone that he’s flawed without coming off as judgmental and mean?  I’ll be honest, I am not the most tactful person in the world, and I worry about saying something unintentionally that will end up hurting his feelings.  And how do I know he even wants my advice?  I don’t want to bruise his masculine pride or anything.

Guys, what do you think?  If you were doing something that was hurting your chances of snagging a lady, would you want her to be upfront and honest and tell you about it?  How would you want her to do it?  My date’s tomorrow night, so any information would certainly be helpful!  I think the plan is to go to a BYOB in the city.  Maybe I should bring two bottles of wine…

the little things

Bitch though I may about being single, I have to admit, there are times when not being tied down has its perks.  Like when an attractive young man comes into my office to drop off his grad school application, and I can flirt with him (as much as possible without getting fired, at least.) I don’t believe in love at first sight or any of that bullpucky, but man, this kid had it all.  Musician?  Check.  Glasses?  Check.  Tattoos?  Check.  Smelled like he smokes three packs a day?  Check.  (People think I’m crazy, but there is something sexy about the smell of tobacco smoke).  At any rate – SWOON. I quickly informed any of my girlfriends who were online that I have successfully found my soulmate.

It’s silly, I know, to get so excited over someone I’ll probably never see again, but sometimes that’s the best part of the dating world – you get just a moment, a conversation, that gives you a thrill and puts a giddy smile on your face for the rest of the day, and that’s all you need.  For all I know this kid has a girlfriend, or is a pedophile or only has one nut.  But in my mind, he’ll just always be the cute guy who came into my office on a typical, boring Wednesday afternoon, and suddenly made my day a little brighter and more interesting.  Hey, it’s the little things in life, man.

P.S. Perhaps it’s only appropriate that, as I’m writing this, the Natasha Bedingfield song “Single” came on the radio.  You know, some days everything just falls into place…