It’s been a long time since I’ve had a positive feeling about a future first date…and significantly longer since I’ve have a good first date actually transition to a successful second one.
(Let’s not dig into who makes it beyond the 5th date…)
Beyond this, even meeting someone who seems like a quality human being–an interesting, seemingly-compassionate kind soul–is rare.
While I’m not holding my breath, I’m also not actively clenching my butthole.
I still don’t understand the concept of “talking” to potential romantic partners, nor how this cultural phenomenon exists at all. Yet countless men have complained about how women they’re “dating” /”talking to” (these are NOT the same) are “seeing” multiple men.
Le sigh.
As a society, let’s all get together on the same page. This is your official PSA: Talking to someone is not the same as exclusively dating. In order to actually date someone, you must first define the relationship (DTR) after an appropriate amount of dates.
To assume that just because you go on a few dates and you like the person, that they like you back, is almost adorable. Nay, it is ideas like this that contribute to situationships and the reason that so many of us are single.
Stop making our lives more complicated than they need be. If you want to be exclusive with someone, you must have that potentially-awkward “Do you want to be together?” conversation. Otherwise, until that conversation occurs, everything is fair game. Keep dating. Keep swiping. Keep trying.
No one gets to pretend to be a victim because they made erroneous assumptions.
As a former fat kid who was rejected after attempting to get a crush’s attention by leaving Twinkies on his desk, I have no empathy for men who complain about potential rejection. For all of the dudes who don’t have the courage to define the relationship: don’t worry, another man out there will.
(In my experience and research, the DTR conversation should occur after at least three dates, and before the eleventh one).
STFU & DTR. It’s really that simple.
I’m still processing how “forever” can mean such different things to different people.
Especially when one of them was a Catholic monk for 20 years.
As crushed as I feel for not taking my own advice and stupidly sprinting into a relationship, at least free EMDR therapy, ClassPass membership, UberEats delivery, and a Hawaii trip lessen the pain of my most recent breakup.
We dove in, too much too soon, and Daniel definitely led the way. Directionless, I followed.
He insisted I look at engagement rings (I made an entire Pinterest board), we researched places to move (La Jolla, which we explored together, was our favorite), and contemplated our future children’s names (Dell/Della; credit to Daniel). We even shopped at the Container Store together.
The Container Store.
He went from basically promising the whole happily-ever-after to not even wanting to do couples therapy.
I hate that I’m repeating the same mistake of rushing into love. Like my therapist explained, it takes time to determine whether someone’s actions match their words. No one can promise you that they won’t break your heart.
At least I warned him. After all, I’m the don’t-pick-me girl.
Because of my previous dating experiences, I attempted to pump the brakes early on, but didn’t. I still swear by my “Why it’s a red flag when he wants to get too close too soon” post, and actually sat Daniel down one morning, about two weeks into us dating, and read it to him.
“We are moving fast, and most people would think we’re insane. If you’re not as serious as you say you are, please just let me know now. I can’t afford to get my heart broken again.”
Daniel agreed, and insisted that he was all in.
I’d already called Mother Teresa unfortunate words on our first date, not understanding the depth of Daniel’s religious past (I just think shaming others automatically disqualifies your sainthood). I never pretended to be someone I wasn’t.
If he was going to run, I’d given him ample reasons early on to do so.
He knew me, and liked me for all of the reasons that Ryan didn’t…Daniel loved that I’m different. He encouraged me to speak my mind. Part of his job actually entails consulting companies about artificial harmony, which rang exceptionally true to me. Our honeymoon phase was nothing short of glorious, and even when we started to get into small fights (as couples do), we kept it classy.
And don’t get me started on the mind-blowing sex…
I believed him when he said he wanted a wife. I think he believed it, too.
At least when he decided a relationship (or at least, our relationship) was no longer a priority, he could afford our breakup.
You break it, you buy it.
Everyone approaches dating, and actual in-person dates, differently.
I don’t believe there are hard rules for “right” or “wrong” first dates. This depends entirely on each party’s preference.
Personally, I don’t believe in coffee dates. Coffee is part of my morning routine. Coffee is a beverage, a noun. Coffee is not a verb, not an activity worthy of looking socially acceptable for, nor worth making time for just to remain seated while getting to know another human being (bean? are bad dad jokes still trending?) and consuming a stimulant.
I’ve entertained a handful of coffee dates during my 20’s, and none led to anything promising, nor were particularly enjoyable. They felt like a waste of time.
Before you jump to conclusions and rant about how meals are an expensive commitment to a stranger, realize that there are other inexpensive activities. A hike or museum visit is preferable (and even cheaper than coffee), since even if my date is a dud, I’ve still enjoyed an experience.
Aaaand then I blocked him.
“Ahh yes, the hungry bumbler.”
Let’s just take a moment to appreciate his self-contradictions. He went from calling me “the hungry bumbler” to “looking a bit anorexic.”
So feed me, dingbat.
Insulting a woman’s appearance is the worst approach to address someone who has a different dating style. If you’re that repulsed, move on in silence.
Also: don’t come at my appearance when you’re only 5’9″. I don’t normally take low hanging fruit, but your personality seems ripe with Napoleon complex, so I’ll juice dat m’fuka (not Ebonics, just efficiency. I’m not racist, like some people…).
Grow up. Literally, figuratively, mentally, respectfully.
Isn’t the whole point of using dating apps to expedite the meeting-in-person process? Discovering chemistry and compatibility between two people is hard enough; why make scheduling your initial get-together just as grueling?
I’m still struggling to understand why, when given my phone number, an alarmingly high percentage of matches prefer to slide into my DMs via Instagram rather than text or call me. Although more LA men would rather attempt to jerk off to my online photos than actually enjoy my presence in real life, a significant amount of Orange County app users seem just as addicted to the ‘gram.
If you’re lucky enough to have my personal cellphone number, that’s your golden ticket to directly connect and to make plans. These in-the-flesh encounters are frequently referred to as dates, which should be your ultimate goal when using dating apps. They’re definitely mine: I provide my phone number within a few messages, so we can coordinate schedules and proceed from there.
I prefer limiting text correspondence prior to meeting, since this feels like a waste of time. Everyone is different, so I’m not arguing that my approach is “right”.
In fact, my male friend had a negative experience with a girl who felt he did not text her enough prior to their actual date, so she ended up cancelling.
I still think he dodged a bullet…not because she had certain correspondence expectations, but because she did not articulate these needs. Communication is crucial, especially in communicating how you communicate.
That said, a short phone call prior to meeting is not only acceptable but also a savvy maneuver, since this gives you a better idea of conversational compatibility than a text marathon.
As much as I despise FaceTime, I’m not opposed to a quick session, just to verify that I do look like my photos.
Should you ignore this opportunity and attempt a lesser means of connection, you risk not only losing this person’s interest (ahem, mine)–how many successful souls regularly check their social media messages?–but also losing your tact. “Connecting” on social platforms is not the most intimate nor effective way to interact.
Viewing an Instagram profile is one of the worst ways to learn who someone truly is…and an especially inaccurate method of verifying identity.
Yet here we are.
And sure enough, Hinge-cringe Matthew was not trying to confirm my authenticity. Instead, he proceeded to DM me slightly crude (almost kinda flatteringish?) messages in response to specific photos….
*in unsolicited response to edited Instagram images. I don’t use dating apps to gain social media followers, nor to validate my self-worth.
That’s what sending selfies to ex-boyfriends is for.
Because of his approach, Matthew and I are not closer to connecting. If anything, I feel more disconnected, and have lost pretty much all interest.
We are not enjoying a meal, a hike, the beach, nor a museum together….and meanwhile, he views my online photos in an almost voyeuristic way, from the comfort of his hammock (just speculating, but I imagine this as his happy place for scrolling while LOLing). In return, I gain nothing.
Once upon a time, men slayed dragons…but hey, way to woo me behind the comfort of your digital screen.
For the record: Matthew never attempted to make plans for a first date, despite his fascination with my online presence.
Perhaps even worse: having someone’s phone number and being too afraid to call.
How do you get to know someone without talking, be it over the phone or more importantly, face-to-face?
If you can’t have a phone conversation with the possible love of your life, what chance do you have at a successful relationship–or even a successful career?
If only this social media fixation was limited to these two interactions. Alack, years of extensive research in LA–and now OC–prove that this is an obnoxious yet ubiquitous part of dating culture. Seems like all we can do is set our Instagrams to “private” and just keep swiping…
#UnfollowDGAF
Successful dating doesn’t always result in a romantic relationship (although that’s ideal). Forming meaningful connections, while learning about yourself and others, can constitute success. Acquiring more knowledge is also a perk.
Below are the top three life hacks I’ve learned from my experiences.
#1. Order fresh wasabi next time you get sushi.
I’m shocked that I didn’t discover this when I visited Japan, nor the number of times I’ve gone out for my favorite food. It wasn’t until a Costa Mesa date last year, when the gentleman called a restaurant in advance “to make sure they have fresh wasabi”, that I took note.
We didn’t make it beyond one date. I was actively appalled by him complaining about “being the smartest person” in his engineering program at Cal State Long Beach. The fact that he resembled a toaster, unbeknownst to me through his Bumble pictures, didn’t help.
But his win of wisdom has served far beyond a single, eventless evening.
Every time I order this, I’m in heaven. I have yet to encounter a sushi restaurant that does not have fresh wasabi, no matter how hole-in-the-wall it may be.
Like many things in life, all you have to do is ask.
#2. Never get body acne again: use Hibiclens in the shower.
I wish I had known this during my adolescent soccer-playing, track-sprinting years! I actually learned this from a chemist, who took me on an unforgettable Jamaica vacation, while I lived in North Carolina.
Hibiclens is an antiseptic soap used in hospitals, and is less than $15 on Amazon.
Ever since I started using this on a shower sponge, I have not broken out in even a speck of a freck. I recommend the pump version–the larger the better–to truly bang out your buck.
Science is a beautiful thing.
#3. Pen caps can be used as chip-clips to prevent products from getting stale.
I’ve grazed many kitchens, and am shocked by how many affluent men fail to have—or use—chip clips on their products.
Yes, this makes a HUGE difference in the longevity of your food!
This negligence was especially painful to encounter two months ago, with an engineer who lived in a Coto de Caza house that was so big, I frequently found myself lost in his hallways. But all of his cereal, chips, and anything that had been opened, was stale to the extent that it was inedible.
You can have all of the money in the world, but who cares if you don’t know how to use it?
I technically learned this from another North Carolina guy, although we were (and still are) friends more than anything.
If you can’t afford chip clips, or just don’t have them around, immediately rescue your reserves by using a pen cap on the top of packages. Be sure to release all air within packaging prior to sealing.
Hopefully you can reap these benefits without the headache and heartache that I’ve already suffered.
One of the times I seek love the most is when I’m lonely. This is also one of the worst times to attempt to find, and to form, a connection.
It’s like grocery shopping when you’re already hungry. Item list be damned: that frozen pizza, ice cream, cheez-puffs and other lusts are going in your cart, regardless of practicality.
You know better—these were not premeditated purchases, you know they’re no good for you—yet that craving is just too strong.
We all make bad decisions when we’re hungry…and even worse decisions when we’re thirsty.
My advice? Sleep with your water bottle.
Or if he’s just telling you what he thinks you want to hear…
If he’s really sorry, he’ll send delivery food.
Not all men are linguistically savvy (see previous post), but those who possess verbal caress may not necessarily be of higher caliber than those who don’t. Provide the opportunity for them to prove themselves.
In fact, a distinct characteristic of a fboy (/fgirl; I only speak from my own heterosexual experience, so I apologize for my limited perspective…thus far) is that their comments and behaviors emanate entirely from attempting to persuade a target to sleep with them–without disclosing the intent for a casual fling.
This (fboys vs. players vs. nice guys vs. “covert contracts”), warrants a separate blog post.
Actions speak louder than words. It’s easy for him to simply say, “I’m sorry”…but it’s a little harder for him to put his money where his mouth is.
If he’s genuinely remorseful and not just lazily trying to creep back in your pants, he’ll go the extra mile–or at least pay UberEats to do so. Feasts delivered to your doorstep are the new flowers, but significantly more practical.
It’s that simple. For both you and for him. He clears his conscience–and yes, by accepting his delivery apology, you can now NEVER mention this incident ever again. It’s a small price to pay for getting fed from the comfort of your home, in your sweatpants (not the aforementioned gray ones), without even having to blend your eyeshadow.
If he doesn’t send delivery, then he’s not truly sorry.
So if your Santa Fe chicken sandwich and carrot cake from Veggie Grill don’t magically appear at your doorstep–assuming you’ve clearly expressed your needs–you know the true depths of his apology. Proceed accordingly.
Why would you want to be on the receiving end of someone who can’t deliver?
**Epilogue: GSM and I did finally end up going on a date. I didn’t completely write him off since he did Venmo me for delivery (not as impressive as accurately ordering specified items and having them delivered to my place, but I still consider this an effort to fix his mistake).
Although the chemistry was definitely lacking–maybe he should have worn those gray sweatpants–overall, we had a pleasant time. (Both our post-date texts expressed mutually cordial, “Thanks for the fun night, you’re great blah blah.” Thankfully, neither of us has reached out since). Beyond anything, I respect his ability to take accountability. If nothing else, his actions at least salvaged his reputation.**
Brazenly Bad 