A few weeks ago, I went out for a second time with a tall, fit blonde-hair boy with dimples, and as I sat across him, sipping wine and nibbling a cheese plate, I only could conclude I was drunk on our first date.
Because otherwise, why in the world would I have agreed to go out with him again?
Now, forgive me for being critical (it wouldn’t be the first time someone suggested such a thing) – but there wasn’t anything wrong with him per se. Except that he was upset that I choose to sit at a table instead of the bar (since I arrived 5 minutes early and he arrived 10 minutes late, I got to take my pick). And that he spent the better portion of our date complaining about his job, and the last few minutes of our date laughing telling our handsome European waiter (who was interested in my work) that he doesn’t “read shit like mine.”
Earlier this year, my roommate and I were lazily lounging on our Ikea couch, splitting a bottle of $5 wine and bitching hard core about men. As we went through the annoying guys we were making boring small talk with on Tinder, the ones who matched us on Hinge, and the questionable picks on OkCupid—I kept thinking…we aren’t actually dating.
Until we started the dating pact. Sure it isn’t always easy, but we have each other to keep us going.
We remind each other of all of the reasons why we should go on a date—even when we don’t want to.
I went on a date on Sunday… with my literary agent.
If you could see me right now, you would see a grin ear-to-ear, and if you could get inside my heart, you’d feel it beating frantically out of its chest. There are very few words to describe just how happy – and excited and thankful! – I feel to have someone actively trying to turn this little ‘ole blog of mine into a book. (When it happens, you will all be the first to know, I promise!)
Even so, I was nervous to meet him (and afraid he wouldn’t like me) – but my gut was right: it was two hours of constant rapport, brainstorming and storytelling. And then he said something that just about made me cry:
In response to a blog I recently wrote, a man named Mark from Denver wrote to me to share the male perspective. I’m excited to share this inspiring blog with a message that I try to send through this blog, and one that I think all women – single, taken or otherwise – need to be reminded of. It’s even more refreshing to hear it from a single guy. Thanks for contributing, Mark! Check out his blog here, ladies.
“There is always someone prettier”
I heard this come out of my friends mouth as we were walking down the streets of NYC last week. She had flown in from Hong Kong for work and I was in town visiting my potential place of residence. We met up to hang out and spend a few days together.
I really (really) liked David.
I was a 19-year-old, wide-eyed, excited kid that immensely enjoyed the attention from an older (by um, two years?) guy who wanted to wine-and-dine me. (Mostly from his apartment, since I couldn’t, you know, order a glass without being carded in my quiet, sleepy college town.) He was an engineering major with a big passion to design skyscrapers (and I wanted to live in NYC, it was fate!), and though his room was messy and his shirts smelled like mildew, after two dates, I was pretty much smitten.
This was originally published on eHarmony’s blog.
If you’ve been single for a while, you’re probably used to the first date dance by now: he asks where you’re from originally, you ask about his job. He asks if you prefer red or white wine, you ask about his hobbies. It usually feels like the same ole’ conversation just with a different person, unless you stumble across a truly magical (and rare!) amazing date.
Last week, I decided to do what many dudes do on Tinder: get straight to the point. Now—not every guy I’m matched with goes in straight for the date, some like to be chatty. But most exchange a few niceties before asking for my number and seeing when they can buy me a glass of Pinot Noir. (Saturday, at 8 p.m., in the East Village, if any tall, successful, kind-hearted man is available out there. Somewhere. Anywhere. Anyone. Bueller?)