Dating Tales

Recently I received a forwarded e-mail on funny things kids say about dating. This is one of the questions asked.

Q: A first date turns sour. What do you do?
A: I would go home and play dead. The next day I’d want to be in the dead columns so I’d call the newspapers.

Funny thing is that I think there are some adults who might say the same thing.

There are many common mistakes to avoid when trying to get out of a bad date or a second date. I promise it’s easier than playing dead.

Lies: Mistake Number One
Just say, “No thanks on the drink. I’m really not up for it. Cliche as it is, honesty is a good policy and it will save you the guilt.

Excuses: Mistake Number Two
Instead of agreeing to mow your mom’s neighbor’s lawn, just tell the person you don’t want to go out with them again.

Postponements: Mistake Number Three
I don’t have time tonight, can we reschedule next week?

I know I’m guilty of saying this, and then I just don’t call. Say, “Thanks, but no thanks” and avoid the stress that you don’t need.

Don’t Call: Mistake Number Four
If you say you’re going to call, you should do what you say. If you decide to blow that person off, you have a 50/50 chance of that person actually getting the hint. Fifty percent of us will think of every reason possible for not getting a call from you. Like, maybe he lost my number? Maybe I was supposed to call him? Or, maybe he didn’t know what day we planned on? I think its better to not promise the call in the first place, but if you do, say, “It was great, but I’m not going that direction.”

Let’s hope you get voice mail.

Let’s Be Friends: Mistake Number Five
I doubt you want to be friends with the guy that clipped his nails in front of the restaurant where you met for dinner. Although asking him to be your friend will soften the blow, don’t say it unless you mean it. Some people will think there is still a chance for something more, and the others might believe that it’s actually true.

Seeing Someone Else: Mistake Number Six
This is the one time it’s alright to lie. You might as well have said, There is someone better than you. Ouch.

Go Anyway: Mistake Number Seven
It’s even harder to get out of a third date than to get out of the last half of the first or the second date altogether. Cut your ties sooner, it’s better.

A lot of times you don’t have to explain why you don’t want another date. But if you do, just be honest. It’s perfectly fine to not like someone after a date with or without a good reason.

My friend Brittney is new to New York City and eager to meet all kinds of new people (a/k/a men). After a few weeks of surfing Match.com, she found who she calls, The Scientist. He is actually a Ph.D. student at NYU.

Still unfamiliar with the city, she managed to find the coffee shop near Times Square that The Scientist suggested for their first date, which was surprisingly quaint and comfortable. Brittney didn’t need to wait for The Scientist because he was there when she arrived. To her surprise when he stood up to kiss her cheek, he was the shortest man she’d ever seen. He’s shorter than her, which is difficult considering she is barely five feet tall.

Turned out that when they were both sitting down the height wasn’t even really an issue, but being bored to tears was an issue. The Scientist talked about himself for at least an hour. He mostly talked about his research, which focused around the patterns of sexual reproduction between fruit flies and its surprising similarity to the human reproduction process. After Brittney tuned in and tuned out several times she finally had to ask: So you’ve been watching fruit flies have sex for the last three years?

The Scientist hesitantly responded with a positive, but in a rather negative tone. And that pretty much ended the date.

Now one would think it was clear that there was no love connection between the two. But to Brittney’s surprise the Match.com emails from The Scientist continued. In fact, they became very direct and romantic. After not responding for several days Brittney finally wrote that she really was only looking for friends and since the two of them didn’t have anything in common, thanks, but no thanks.

The Scientist responded with a vile e-mail about how he had never mentioned a relationship and had only implied sex. He said that if Brittney wasn’t able to give that up, then he wished her good luck in New York, because she’d never survive.

She knew it was pointless to reply, but it was too easy. She wrote back thanking The Scientist for the advice, but reminded him that fruit fly sex experts made poor human sex experts.

I wasn’t all that interested in Dave, but I decided to give him a chance in case there was something I overlooked. I did–and still do–believe that dates are like job interviews. Even if you don’t want the commitment, it’s worth the practice for the real thing.

I met Dave at a party. I was chasing around a young, artist-type from the keg to the porch to the living room, and it seemed every time I turned around Dave was right there. After realizing I had no chance with the artist, I started talking to Dave. He was a musician and he fit the mold with a head full of long hair and trendy jeans.

On our date he struck out only minutes after it began. When I arrived at his house he was wearing a worn out Led Zepplin t-shirt and wrinkled khaki shorts–and he was high. I only know this because when he answered the door the pot pipe in his hand was still smoking.

Dave welcomed me and politely gave me a tour of his house. My impression was that he wasn’t doing so bad for a young bachelor. But after I met the five other roommates, I changed my mind because it really wasn’t that great for a single 28-year-old to be sharing a room with the drummer in his band.

Once we sat down for dinner, he sat quietly watching me chew. I felt as if the date would never end. I looked at my watch to see that it was only 7:15pm and then looked out the window to see the sun was shining brighter than I would’ve thought possible. When the waitress came with the check Dave followed my gaze out the window for quite some time. I choreographed a large sigh with the slap of my Visa on the table. A moment later, Dave reached into his back pocket only to bring his hands back to the table empty.

Finally, the date was over.