friday night we went to a fab happy hour with a group of 30-something women - doctors, lawyers, MBAs - this place is crawling with an accomplished set. but it doesn't matter how stellar your C.V. is, everyone seems to be on a level playing field in the dating world.
they've all been on "Match," they've been on blind dates, they've had the one-night-stand(s), they've had the bad breakup and the good breakup and some equivalent to the "post-it breakup."
the worst part for them: DC is 60% female, 40% male. and my new gay husband confirmed that at least half of the dudes in DC are seeking other dudes. odds aren't in your favor, ladies.
this makes it imperative that they follow the rules of dating - to help increase the chance of meeting mr. right (or mr. "eh, he's all right"). they first concentrate on increasing date quantity. just like in sales, it's a numbers game. second, if if there is a hint of possible spark, don't screw it up by dumping gasoline on the ember. you'll singe your eyebrows and probably smell funny for a week. in other words, take it sloooooow, and remember you can't fall in love with every first date or you're gonna get burned.
rule 1: log on. online dating isn't for pasty comp-sci majors named Lars anymore. at least not in DC. everyone is a newcomer, and high-value time away from the stressful job is spent with good friends (or trolling for quick lays). it follows that since we spend so much time in the virtual space anyway, meeting Mr. Possible there is an obvious next step. and unless he's a total douchebag, he's going to honestly say what he's looking for - friends, sex, dating, something serious - in his profile. it's so much more efficient than waiting for your friends to fumble around with matchmaking. time is money, folks, so let's weed out the losers with the power of google. (note: on most online sites you can instant message. listen up, boys: online dating is for DATING, not chatting a la 1998. just invite her out for coffee already).
but what if you aren't a writer? how will he know that you're the one? get professional help. yes, you can find professional online dating profile writers to accentuate your positives. seems creepy, right? (note: no matter what, don't put up the glamour shots with your ex-fiancee photoshopped out or the sensitive close-up done by the folks at the Sears Photo Studio. those are also creepy.)
rule 2: keep your ankles crossed. confirmed by Mr. Martin - if a datable prospect gives it up on the first couple of dates, then she's immediately shelved, or added to the text-only list (see below). sure, flings don't have the stigma they once did. (everyone's boning and everyone's loving it, owning it, lubing it up. yay, promiscuity!) but if you want a relationship, find someone else to screw until you make the transition to "been dating awhile."
rule 3: put the mobile away, already. no, we're not talking about taking calls at dinner. that's common courtesy these days, right? the real issue is, if you go out with Mr. Possible and think you might want to score a third date, then you better not send him a text on Friday night when you're out in Adams Morgan. it's simple: text is the new booty call. in fact, the Harpsen's (that's mine and Amy's celebrity name) got a booty text last thursday: "Come over and help me finish this bottle of wine." Translation: "Take off your pants." this dude wasn't too subtle (and, obviously Amy and i were laughing. no shot in hell, dude), but even something innocuous like: "My friends and I are at Solly's drinkin' PBRs on the patio" to someone you just went on a date with last week translates thus: "I'm getting drunk and want to take you home with me tonight." just give the thumbs a rest.
rule 4: FB is the enemy, google is the friend. i have been facebook-friended by people i've met for 10 seconds. just because my husband shares a cubicle with yours, doesn't mean we need to see each other's vacation photos. however, i do like the fb in the appropriate situation. dating is not that situation. you'd spend 30 minutes a week friending and un-friending these people. that would just not be a good use of your time. but you should definitely google-stalk. most of the time you can discover a few photos, find out that he's a "successful, goal-oriented Attorney skilled in legal research, writing and public policy analysis," and learn that he's not good with punctuation since "attorney" isn't a proper noun.
rule 5: no dating on weekends. what about the rom-com when he goes knocking on all the doors in your neighborhood before he finally finds yours, just to ask you out for a dinner on saturday night? he or she most likely will say no, because saturday night is not a night for dating. why? because you
obviously already have plans with your social set and don't want to waste a precious weekend evening with a stranger. "if the past is any indicator of the present" it probably won't work out, so first dates are relegated to days that don't begin with S. you have to
earn saturday.
rule 6: no meeting the friends. this is the rule that's been killing me out here. i get to read their profiles and hear the post-date debrief, but i don't get to meet them? i even got to sit at the controls at a brief instant-messaging session with Dr. Possible for a few minutes. (Amy soon realized that that was a very bad idea. apparently i lack both a verbal and a keyboard filter. oops.)
although i was begrudging the rule, i learned on thursday why it exists. there's nothing that's going to kill your chances like your chatty married friend plopping down after a romantic dinner and insulting a dude's iPhone. i guess "it's so slow" ranks up there with "it's so small."
anyhoo, "Tony" was awkward with the date crash (even though it was really a miscommunication. i was told the date was over and Amy and i were going to walk home. T didn't think the date was over and wanted to walk Amy home. read: one-way walk home). and Amy made it worse by suggesting THE THREE OF US stop by the Red Derby for an after-dinner drink. ugh. nightmare. i had to sit alone at the bar talking to Ralph and Tara (strangers who were nice enough to adopt me for an hour). i think T slooowly realized that i was the only one going home with amy, as she's not that kind of girl.
when it finally came time to say good night and T was wondering just how far north of Columbia Heights we lived, thinking he could still swing the "i'll escort you ladies home" bit, i said, "T, don't you even think about crossing Quincy Street with us. we live so far north that if you tried to follow us it would make your nose bleed."
BAM! i am a walking #*$(@block. aaaand goodnight, buddy.
Amy and i think some rules are made to be broken.
(note: i am aware of this blocking factor, and it is encouraged in my present situation by Amy, as she is looking for *love,* not sleazy late-night texters. i am Jiminy Cricket to Amy's Pinocchio. i am also an excellent Bad Idea Bear if need be. just doing my job here, folks.)
goal was simple: fill the passports. i hoped to average one trip per month over (what was originally supposed to be) 32 months, instead i averaged 1.25 trips per month during our year-point-five and had to have extra pages sewn into my passport. (i did make the mistake of totaling the "travel" category in our Quicken budget. but, really, i would rather have my full passport than that brand new car i could have paid cash for had i spent every night at 39 Garland Street.)
