On the Importance of Knowing One's Audience

Over the past couple of weeks I'd been chatting with a guy I met on the lovely internets. It all seemed pretty cool at first- we had some nice conversations and we had a lot in common. I was happy to accept when he asked me out.

We were discussing where and when to meet up, and he asked if I'd prefer to go home after work before meeting him or not. I said I would so I could drop my stuff off and what have you, and he says, "Yeah, plus you have to look pretty for me."

*blink, blink* Excuse me?

I laughed, because I couldn't think what else to say. And I thought, hey, I'll let that slide, because he was just trying to be funny. And I tried not to think about the guy from last year who told me that 15 minutes late was 5 minutes early for me since I was a girl, and how I laughed that off and he turned out to be a jerk. Because sometimes it's just a joke, right?

Well, right. But after that came another sexist joke, followed by a racist joke, followed by me saying hey, it's been real, but you have made me feel rather uncomfortable a few times now, so I think maybe we shouldn't hang out again. And that was that.

I've run into this sort of thing a few times- where I'll meet a guy and in the first few conversations/dates he'll let fly a comment (or several comments) that are anywhere from "Gee, I could take that a number of different ways and some of those ways are offensive" to "Holy crap, WHO SAYS THAT?" While sometimes it's that the guy truly is just kind of a jerk, sometimes I think it's a case of them not realizing that when you don't know your audience, there are just some things you don't say.

It goes without saying that anything racist, bigoted, sexist, or generally just fricking mean is pretty much never OK (for example, the infamous Crazy Starbucks Guy, who told me about how all women of a certain age are "Hos" on our first date). But some things can be funny once you're more familiar with a person and you know their sense of humor. I think in dating, and in any new relationship, it's important not to assume familiarity and comfort. Not that you need to be some fake version of yourself or flat-out lie to be agreeable- but it's a good idea to think before you speak.

Here We Go Again

After Mr. Patient turned into the former boy and flaming a**, I quietly decided to go on strike. Initially, I updated my online dating profile and was ready to forge ahead without giving it a second thought. Then, I was being cyber-stalked (long story) which lead to some very bitter and hateful email exchanges. I realized I was really very sad and angry about the whole thing. And the strike began.

The first two weeks I let myself stay angry. I had to, if I didn't I was going to be sad and pathetic. The second two weeks I left the country. I wish I could say it was a spontaneous break-up related thing, but it had already been planned. And now I'm ready. I'm neither sad, nor angry, but also not indifferent. I would say more annoyed and disappointed than anything. More about his behavior, post-breakup, than the actual ending of things. If you only knew how many times I have said "If I only knew..." over the last month. The silver lining in all of it is; now I know that I do want to be in a grown-up relationship and I'm not as scared of that as I have been in the past. So I'm not giving up, and the strike is over.

There are currently four potentials in the dating queue. All have stated they would like to get together. One is incredibly grammatically-challenged, I'm not sure if the OCD-tendencies in me can handle that, but he's super tall and that always gets a first date. The shoulders are brushed off and away we go...

Awkward Pause

Recently, I had yet another first date. The thing that was different about this first date was that I was actually kind of excited for it. I'd been seriously considering a hiatus, since I approached most dates these days with all the enthusiasm one usually has for major dental work sans anesthetic- but just before I went off the grid this guy contacted me. And lo and behold, he was funny and interesting. And so, a date.

We had a nice time getting coffee, walking around outside since the weather was nice, and having a great conversation...and then after about an hour and a half he said something along the lines of, "Well, I'm heading this way, and you have to go that way to get home, right? It was good meeting you; I'll be in touch."

It was 7:30.

I walked toward the subway feeling disappointed. I'd had somewhat high hopes for this one, and it seemed like he didn't like me all that much. At least, any other time a date has ended that way, the guy has pretty much never been "in touch" again.

So I was very pleasantly surprised when he DID get in touch, just a couple of hours later. It seems he had a good time but wasn't sure what to do at the end, and he feared he'd made things awkward. I told him I was game for a do-over if he was.

So...do-over to commence in four hours.

Dilemma-nade

So it's been five dates. And it's mostly been fun. But there's this one problem.

He's always trying to make out with me and...I don't really care to, much. Yeah, I know. Me. Me, saying, "No thanks, I'll pass on the physical contact." And when we do, inside my head, there's this:

"Well, this is...OK. I mean, it's not BAD. It's not great either but...it's OK. I'll probably grow to really enjoy it, eventually."

Well, no. I probably won't. Boy, do I feel like I SHOULD, because after all, he's very nice. Nothing but nice. But I'm realizing that I can't magically make myself enjoy the time we spend together. So now I am trying to figure out how to end it...and I'm wondering, which is better? To end it over the phone, which seems so insensitive, or to end it in person, which seems more adult but would also be awkward, in the vein of "Hey, I invited you on date #6 just to ditch you! Peace out!"

What say you, readers? How would you want to hear the news?

You: Nice; Me: Totally not sure what to do with you.

It had been long enough, I figured. Not that I had any major grief from which to recover this time, but I guess I figured it had been long enough since my last date because I was getting bored. And when I get bored, the internets come a-callin'.

I decided to experiment with a different site than last time, and I found a few interesting folks. And so I found myself meeting one such person last Monday for Indian food. We had a good time- good enough, in fact, that we were out waaaaay past my bedtime because we had so much to talk about. But it was during the second date that I figured out who I was dealing with, so to speak. You see, ladies, he's a Nice Guy.

He listens. He pays attention. He's respectful of women. Crap, he might actually qualify as a feminist. And here I am, alternately thinking, "I didn't think you EXISTED!" and, "Oh...gee. You're nice. I don't know what to do with nice."

We'll see if NG stays that way- as you know, I've met quite a few men these past few months who went from nice to psycho or coward in less time than it just took me to finish my chai latte. For the time being I'll try to pace myself and learn to enjoy the nice.

Impasse

So here I am. Last date = anticlimax. Last couple of interested parties? Disappeared into the ether. So I'm left wondering, what next?

I could just sort of go along as I have been, which isn't the worst idea. I have plenty to do and it would give me an opportunity to see what might come my way "naturally", as it were. Or...do I actually put forth the effort of going back to online dating at this point, even though it's probably no different than it ever has been before?

Ultimately my level of boredom will decide for me. In the meantime...I'll have to resort to sharing something from an even more interesting place on the internet. Check out today's xkcd for a funny perspective on approaching a cute stranger. Been there.

The Story of a Former Wrong Card Addict, Part Two

Enjoy the second half of guest blogger LadyLuck's story! If you missed Part One, you can find it here.

Due to my success in business I decided to once again roll the dice – I quit my fabulous jet-setting job and moved to England to start my own business. Even though the economy was just starting to downturn, commodities and labor were cheap and the British pound was dropping – in theory, it was a great time to start a business in my chosen field. Since High Roller was content to stay in the States, I was on a mission to find a new player – and it didn’t take long.

I stepped out of a plane in London and thought that I was the hottest new game in town. It was there that I met up with a former travel acquaintance - a handsome and subtle stereotypical Englishman whom I’ll call The Royal Flush. Just four days older than me, Royal Flush was my ideal counterpart. In addition to sharing a love for exploring exotic travel locations he was also another jet-setting professional who loved his work. He was single with no children and loved what he did for a living. Like me, he genuinely enjoyed his life. His voice was soft with a devastatingly melodic British accent, and his eyes a stunning and captivating sky blue. I found his humble and somewhat awkwardly shy demeanor completely foreign and utterly intriguing. There was a spaciousness and contentment in him that gave me butterflies. We had a wild and passionate weekend – we explored the city together, walking hand-in-hand through Leicester Square, and had great dinners together, alone and with our mutual friends - followed by amazing, cataclysmic sex. It was one of the most memorable weekends of my life.

True enough, I had won again in regards to finding a new player – the problem was that halfway through the game I decided that I wanted to change the rules. I wanted to up the emotional stakes a bit, get to know him better – and maybe one day play the game of being a real couple. It had been so long since I was in a relationship that I had forgotten what it was like to be out, in public, holding hands with someone that just made me happy - genuinely happy, without all the pretenses. We were on the train, his arms wrapped around me, heading back to Holland Park when seemingly an angel whispered into my heart, “This is why people get together” – and in that moment, my addiction to the High Roller and our loose, high-risk, minimal-gain game had ended. My professional life, my geography and personal life were all changing – and now I wanted more. I didn’t want $200.00 bottles of wine, 5-star hotels or fancy meals – I just wanted to be with Royal Flush. Right next to him, wherever he happened to be. Sadly, by the time I realized this I had already set the stage for a mere casual game of strip poker.

As he got ready to leave the next day, Royal Flush kissed me sweetly and said, “If I don’t get out of here soon I’m going to need rehab,” and shortly thereafter he left. I was beside myself. Did he mean what he said, or did he just have a really good poker face?

I was recounting the story of my folly to a good American male friend, the Joker, a week or so after the Royal Flush had left England and gone back to Asia on business. The Joker suggested that if I really wanted to be with Royal Flush that I needed to show him all of my cards and suggest a new game. I realized that this strategy, while somewhat humiliating, was the only hand I had - and after much angst, I decided to deal. Due to his being in Asia, I wasn’t able to contact him by phone or see him in person so I sent a well-written, well-thought out email lightly suggesting a re-match. Sadly, my email went unanswered. He had simply folded. It seems that in relationships, as in gambling, there are no do-overs.

In the game of love I had lost all my chips. I no longer wanted the cheap slots - I had lost all interest in recreational games and put an end to my relationship with the High Roller. I had come to realize that what I was getting from him wasn’t real, but rather just a load of craps.

Not long after that relationship dissolved, the High Roller’s house of cards also fell - within a year his wife had left him. He lost his Ferrari, his house, tens of thousands of dollars and spent months in a bitter custody battle. While our relationship was never the source of the marriage’s demise, or at least that is what I was told, I imagine it had a severe, indirect impact on it, at best. As for me, the unexpected sharp downturn of the economy was far greater than what I had expected, and I’m still experiencing the distressing turmoil that comes with being an entrepreneur in these rough times. I had to move back to the States and take another short-term job to keep myself and the business afloat until we get back on our feet - and while I am fortunate enough to have great emotional support from my friends and family, and a great set of skills to fall back on, I feel a great hole in the support structure that a relationship partner could provide - and I feel its absence daily. I still think about the Royal Flush, and wonder what kind of cards he could have been holding if I had played differently, but I have had no success in establishing a reconnection.

While it’s easy to blame High Roller for starting this game - as many of my friends did, it was I, ultimately, that decided to play. I still hold myself, not him, accountable for having let other opportunities, be it with the Royal Flush or other similar hands, pass by – and to some degree, the demise of the High Roller’s marriage.

As of now, I am completely single and testing the waters in the new game of partner-seeking. Armed with more knowledge, experience and wisdom from my mistakes, I play far less than I did before and far more strategically - and only when the odds are in my favor. I also have my eyes firmly set on a different type of prize. I’ve studied the rules of the game and am better able to evaluate my hand. I have found that for me, the key to successfully giving up the addiction to wrong cards isn’t to give up the entire game, but rather to get a better understanding of my needs and intentions, and to play responsibly.

The Big Reveal

On Friday after work I was getting pretty nervous about the whole date thing...but it's hard to say if I was more nervous than I normally would be for any old first date. I'm incredibly talented at projecting all kinds of ridiculous fantasies and worries onto a first date, so I get pretty freaked out about them. But I guess this time what made me nervous in particular was that if the date went poorly, I'd have to work extra-hard to keep my cool since this guy was going to be telling a reporter all about his perspective.

I was relieved when I arrived at the restaurant and met the guy, D, who seemed normal, and nice. But...I didn't find him all that attractive. Not that he was unattractive, but I just wasn't all that attracted to him. The fact that the guy leading us to our table was VERY cute didn't help.

The dinner turned out to be pretty fun. We had some good conversation and didn't have a hard time finding things to talk about. Considering how much of a disaster it could have been, it really was pretty fun. He asked for my number at the end, and expressed interest in going out again. I said sure, because I really couldn't think of a reason not to...but I have to say, the more I think about it, the more I'm thinking that while we could maybe be friends, I can't really see myself dating him.

I just did my "exit questionnaire" for the magazine. I was honest but polite, which luckily wasn't hard. While it would have been nice to meet someone I was really interested in, it was a fun experience- and he'll make someone a great boyfriend. Just not me.

Mystery Date

I decided to take the plunge. And so tomorrow night at 8PM, I will be meeting a man I know only by his first name at a restaurant I've never been to. That part's actually not so out of the ordinary, though- what makes this more interesting is that A) We've literally never met or spoken or even e-mailed prior to this, and I know absolutely nothing about him; and B) After this date we get to rate each other and it gets printed in the paper where potentially EVERYONE could see it.

I'm actually kind of excited. I've not had too much success picking 'em so far, so who's to say a reporter who's never met me couldn't do a better job? And besides, no matter how good or bad this date is, it will be a Story. That much is guaranteed.

My mom wants me to call her right away on Saturday morning to tell her how it went. I guess she assumes I'll be out late.

Hey, are you all following TheWrongCards on Twitter yet? Do it!

Pouring

After two lovely dates with the Fancy Man (or "Mr. Calamari", as the Queen calls him) I'm really quite pleased. Date the Third, well, the DATE of Date the Third, is still in negotiations. I've enjoyed spending time with him so far and I'm curious to see what comes next.

However...being that we HAVE only been on two dates, there's certainly nothing written in stone, so when my friend L said she had a guy she thought I should meet, I thought, "Why not?" Nothing wrong with keeping one's options open, and no reason to pass on an opportunity at this point.

But then...today I got a very unexpected e-mail. Several months ago (like, six months ago) a friend and I jokingly sent applications in to a local magazine. They were looking for single people willing to be matched up, go on a date, and let the magazine write about it. At the time I was pretty bored as far as dating and I thought it might be kind of a laugh. I never heard from them and I'd basically forgotten about it...until now.

Today they e-mailed me to ask if I was still interested. I'm naturally quite intrigued, but I wonder...is this asking for trouble? Of course, when you're in a casual dating situation, it's almost to be expected that you might date more than one person casually for a bit. But to do that and have it written up in the local press...is that going too far? Don't get me wrong- I don't feel committed to Mr. Calamari at this point, and I haven't even met L's friend yet. But am I setting myself up for some drama later if I do this? Help me, internets! I need some advice.

Dating Against Type

It all started a couple of Fridays ago, when my friend A and I decided to change up the routine, get dressed up, and go to the fancy cocktail bar instead of our usual beer bar. And so it came to pass that I was sitting on a leather bar stool, sipping a pink drink, and chatting with a cocktail bar man.

The cocktail bar man is a species I don't have much experience with. Most of the guys I've dated have been of the beer bar variety. Their wardrobes consisted of worn and torn jeans and slogan t-shirts and the same baseball hat they'd been wearing since freshman year of college. Their year was divided into three seasons: baseball, football, and basketball (and sometimes hockey). Often I found myself engaging in conversations with themes like, "Why a short-sleeved dress shirt is never appropriate at the office, even in summer" and, "There are more interesting things to read than the Onion, trust me". Don't get me wrong, I enjoy some lowbrow humor and sports too, but sometimes you just wish they had finer taste about something, you know?

So the cocktail bar man was intriguing. He clearly shopped for himself and dressed himself well. He could hold forth on obscure '70s music, sports, and film all in one conversation (for some reason the bar was playing "AM Radio Favorites" that night, to our amusement. Seals and Crofts, anyone?). And because he was funny, and interesting, and nice, when he gave me his card and told me that if I decided to end my strike anytime soon, I should let him know, I found myself thinking that might not be such a bad idea. I was a little uneasy about it...in addition to diving back in after the strike, I was also wondering- could I date a guy like this? One who seemed to be so definitely NOT my type? But of course it made sense to me to just let that go for a bit and see what happened...because if my usual type of guy usually didn't work out, trying out someone who seemed against type for me could be a good thing.

So after a few witty e-mails back and forth, we met for drinks and spent nearly five hours talking, eating, and...kissing. (That was a small portion of the five hours but rather a memorable one.) And it made me a little nervous when he ordered martinis with some kind of vodka I'd never heard of (Chopin, in case anyone was wondering)...but then I remembered that at the beginning of the evening he'd ordered a Miller High Life. So perhaps I won't be as out of my element as I'd feared. I'll let you know how date number two goes...

Don't Ask

It's inevitable, really. When you choose to share a story with a friend about a dating endeavor gone wrong, they want to make you feel better. And it's in these moments, when they want nothing more to be supportive, that they often end up doing the opposite. Dear readers, I give you the Platitudes.

Blessed are the singles who endure horrible dates, for they shall eventually learn a valuable lesson from them, and the person of their dreams will come to them any day now. Because "everything happens for a reason."

Blessed are the singles who tough it out through one disaster after another, for they are stronger than they know. Because "God/the Universe never gives anyone more than they can handle."

Blessed are the singles who can't figure out why seemingly dim/unattractive/irritating people have significant others when they don't, for they are just holding their dates to appropriately high standards. Because "of course" they have a hard time finding someone to date, because they are "a strong person who knows what they want", and most men/women "can't handle that".

And finally, blessed are the singles who meet their dates in the "right" places, for if they do, nothing will go wrong. Because if you meet your date in one of the "wrong" places, you can't be upset when he/she turns out to be a loser.

Where are the wrong places? Why, that all depends on the person asking the question! And this may be the worst of the Platitudes, because at least for me personally, it creates a feeling that I have somehow invited poor treatment, even when I know that if someone treats me poorly, the only reason they have done so is because they decided to.

So next time, dear readers, when you're presented with a tale of dating woe...please don't ask, "Well, where did you meet him?"