Most of us can admit to having ‘a type,’ an ideal of what we think we’re attracted to. No matter how much we hold onto it, we’ll all at some point surprise ourselves by being attracted to someone who doesn’t fit our ‘type’ definition. Obviously. Because its actually scented pheromones that govern the laws of attraction, not our eyes.

Nevertheless, some women always seem to date tall men. Some guys always date blonde girls. Things can get switched around and changed up, but it seems these variables rarely apply to hair. Meaning that if your type is dark skin, dark eyes and longish hair the scenario in which you’d most likely date an albino is if they had longish hair as well.

Why?

I think it has to do with the fact that hair represents someone’s overall fashion sense and lifestyle choice, making it a powerful identifier for the people you’re romantically drawn to. Your man’s hair is also a huge reflection on you. For example, my friend serially dates men with receding hairlines I find loathsome and she deems handsome.

Diagnosis: She admits to having daddy issues and therefore is after a more mature, caretaker kind of guy. This got us making a whole list… Continue reading here

This is a question I don’t have the expertise to answer, rather a quandary that’s buzzing through my group of friends. I don’t know if it’s the changing weather, the financial crisis, an across-the-board craving for stability, or the fact that we’re all just getting older, but in the past few weeks I’ve heard suggestions from friends ranging from professional matchmakers to Yentas to online dating to assist them in their search for a significant other they can stand. These ideas are always presented with a side dish of humor, since there seems to be some sort of stigma attached to finding the love of your life through a professional service or online.

Why?

I suppose there’s an outlook that people who resort to the net for dates are freaks unable to find someone in real life. From my understanding, society dictates that we’re supposed to find the love of our life:

Through work (weird, because it’s also ordained that getting romantically intimate with someone you work with is a major no-no.)

Through friends (this also never made sense to me, because if one of my friends was lucky enough to find the Holy Grail of a fantastic, relationship-ready guy she wouldn’t be moronic enough to pass him off to me – she’d date him herself. The large pool of men any of your friends dated, touched, eye-flirted with, or kissed is also off-limits.)

In social situations: weddings, bars, clubs, friends parties, birthdays, random city events etc. (here, you’re dealing with complete chance. By the time you make the effort to get to know the person, grounding them in things you can relate to like common friends or similar education levels, you’re so thrilled to have found a non-freak in your social stratosphere that you somehow end up dating them without taking the time to analyze anything else.)

Which leads me to my main point: Continue

Your entire approach to dating can change overnight.

For me, it happened on a night like any other. I came home from work typically bedraggled and sank into my broken, once-white sofa. As I put my feet up and summoned the strength to get through the rest of the evening (cooking? television? recreational reading?), my roommate approached wielding a book the same size as our kitchen counter. It rivaled a Random House hardcover Collector’s Edition dictionary in size and weight, and she managed to dump it in my lap without permanently injuring my abdomen. My roommate then threw on her Burberry coat, waved, and left me with the instructions:

“I’m going out, but look up your, (exes names), your mother, everyone you know. It’ll blow your mind.”

This is how I got left home alone with ‘The Book.’ It’s actually called ‘The Secret World of Relationships’ or something ridiculous like that. We’ve abbreviated it to this powerful nickname ‘The Book,’ since it rivals the Bible in both length and authoritative tone. Continue

On Google Chat

Brainstorming Buddy: I think it’s male PMS week. The men in my life are being worthless.

Me: I agree. What’s going on? Why now?

BB: Summer’s over? It’s going to be a full moon? Ummm…Absolutely no foreseeable motive?!!?

Me: OK. Bullet point the symptoms for me.

BB:

• Short text messages
• 
  
• Failure to follow through with plans
• 
  
• Blaming
• 
  
• Yelling at work
• 
  
• Lack of tenderness
• 
  
• Increased self-absorbtion

Me: OMG. Gaa. Why is life so busy!?!? I can't write today. I just can't do it.

BB: Of course you can. Do, like, a "men have feelings, too" article. But then beat them up.

Me: Wow. Are we really at the level that it’s necessary to consciously point out that men probably have feelings?

BB: I mean, obviously they have feelings. They’re apparently PMSing. I just don’t think it’s something I consciously think about.

Me: That’s true. We expect men to be macho. Ape-like. Able to handle things. When really, they’re just people too.

BB: Uh-huh. Apparently. Blame their inability to properly express feelings on society. Like, they were given trucks instead of dolls.

Me: Duh.

BB: Be like, "Oh, I understand that you get stressed / sad / overwhelmed and then you take it out on those who care most about. Thanks for nothing.”

Me: hahaah

BB: The female brain: “I really just want reassurance, support and affection.” The male brain: “???” Do they want the same?

Me: No they want to chase things. Unless they’re “real men” who no longer need the thrill of conquer, capture and discard. According to my most recent research, men do this to figure out their mate value. Like, how well they rank in the world of the city/jungle, where they stand in their ability to get women and against other men. Kind of like figuring out what your hierarchy is. Men who have figured it out and are secure in their position, don’t need to chase women or play games.

BB: So you’re proposing no game playing? Eeesh.

Me: If you’re resorting to game playing, the guy isn’t actually available.

BB: Uh-oh. OK. Here’s my next question for you. Where does one find these supposed “real men?”

Me: Well. Yes. This is a problem. I don’t know. But I don’t think a lot of them live in the tri-state area. Maybe the west coast? Another posit: Can you transform a guy who’s running around into a “real man,” who doesn’t, you know, need to be a player.

BB: Unlikely. And yet women all over the world are trying. It’s like running into a brick wall. It’s what Sex and the City called an ‘urban relationship myth.’ The guy who was crazy but some girl got him to settle down.

Me: And now she’s a queen. I think we all keep at it because if you succeeded, it would be like the holy grail of relationships.

BB: It would be like you actually conquered someone. The ego boost / thrill of it makes it worthwhile.

Me: I guess maturity = when you accept that trying to conquer the unavailable will never really work.

BB: Probably. Are we interested in maturity?

Me: Yeah! K. I wanna go eat a banana.

Brainstorm session over.

Sign Out.

The very best way to ditch a date is to do yourself a favor and set up an easily ditchable situation in the first place.

Let’s start by sharing the breakfast/brunch dating strategy.

On dates offered by newer additions to your dating circle, people you perhaps don’t know that well, accept the date but on the condition that it's a breakfast/brunch, maybe even lunch, but definitely not dinner date. I use the reasoning that breakfast is my favorite meal of the day, which it is. That makes this entire scenario an added plus for me.

The beauty of the morning or daytime date is that you then have an easy out. With a dinner date, it's easy to get sucked into a merry-go-round of activities: meeting up with their friends, frequenting bars, locales, and the worst, drinking, which impairs your dating judgment. If you’re not actively cautious, you could have your whole night sucked away by someone you’re not that interested in and vomiting Kahlua shots early the next morning.

BUT with breakfast/brunch/lunch, you've got outs. Unfortunately, the excuse, "I have to wash my hair today" went out circa 1950, but the 2008 replacements are more fun. Continue

Being in a relationship has its perks (like, theoretically, you’re not going on awkward first dates with strangers anymore). Yet even when you have pet names for each other, it doesn’t mean there’s never trouble in paradise. Below I’ve documented the top ten worst relationship conversations ever and how to spot them. When you hear them coming, brace yourself for impending doom.

1. Anything concerning your guy and another girl (or vice versa). These confrontations may start calculatedly casual like, “Linda mentioned she saw you at the mall with some girl…” If there’s an empty silence, she’s expecting you to fill it in. If you wait, she’ll just add, “who looked like a tramp.” The calmer you stay and less defensive you get, the better you’ll do in the conversation that follows, which is for all intensive purposes is an at-home court trial.

2. A sexual discussion that involves something you haven’t been doing. This is never good and someone’s bound to get defensive. A good sex life never requires anything negative to be talked about.

3. Any conversation that involves the chorus of a U2 song. Example: “With or Without You,” “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking for.” Continue

Relationships + Multitasking = Relatasking

A particular girlfriend of mine seriously dates multiple men at a time. No, not casual, ‘let’s catch dinner and a movie here and there over a three month period’ kind of dating, but ‘we’re two steps away from saying I love you’ or ‘we’re committed to each other’ kind of dating. She lives in Europe and things are definitely different over there. Nevertheless, most of us would find her strategies exhausting or deceitful.

I always suspected it had something to do with her being excessively bored or needing a constant ego-boost. I’ve def applied these boredom and ego theories to men who are womanizers. Recently, I had her elaborate a bit on her dating motives and found the method behind her madness surprisingly interesting.

I’m paraphrasing here, but she expressed:

“My theory is that boys select a life partner arbitrarily. It’s based on some randomly enacted switch that makes them suddenly want to marry the lucky girl who happens to be with them at the right place and right time. Soooooooooooo, since there isn’t method to the madness, there is no sense reasoning with it. You might as well make the most of your time, while waiting for this to happen to you. That’s why I multitask (what she prefers to call dating multiple people at once) and wait until your number is up.

Until one of the men in my web wakes up one morning and says 'I want babies,' I might as well keep my deck stacked so that it will happen sooner rather than later. There is no need to interview/audition people in a linear fashion. I might as well have multiple relationships going at once: it just brings my odds up.

It would be easy to be complacent, but this is the opposite. It’s so much work. It’s an intensive screening strategy that, hopefully, leads to the best possible option. I mean, I hear the arguments, like ‘well, if you never fully invest yourself with one person, you’ll/they’ll never fully open up.’ My response: Bullshit. Don’t give me that investment crap. There is no such thing as true love. There is no one right person for everyone. And there is absolutely no happy ending planned for you. If you're not kicking ass to make your own happy ending by pursuing as many options as possible, you’re just not a hard worker. No one else is doing this for you and worse, many people are using you to fill in their momentary fantasy.

So use or be used.

If you're lucky, it's a mutually beneficial relationship with emotional rewards for both parties, regardless of the ultimate outcome. That's what we call healthy. But this crap about someone being really concerned about you, wanting the best for you, and taking care of you – until you’re the age of a grandparent and been married to that person for forty years, it just doesn’t exist.

I've reaffirmed / disproved various theories through trial and error. I'm not saying this one’s 100% predictable, I’m just saying spare yourself the epic earth shattering despair of rejection by not putting all your eggs in one basket.”

When I inquired about the ego-boosting, she smiled and replied, “Yeah, well, that's just a perk.”

Ever asked someone for relationship advice?

Their response can consistently be broken down into two categories. They’ll advise you to calculate, or they’ll advise you to let go.

Example:

“I’m crazy about xxx and want to see him tonight, even though I just saw him for lunch.”

The calculating response: “No. Send him an email at 10pm and wait another full day to call.”

The ‘let go’ response: “We could all be hit by an asteroid tomorrow. Go for it!”

Both theories are valid. And while ‘calculating’ has a negative connotation, it’s positive in this context. Taking the time to really think things through instead of indulging in the impulse of the moment is not only a sign of emotional maturity, but shows you care enough about the relationship to burn up some extra brain cells.

The bad news: Too much calculating and thinking things through will make you a robotic game player. Yet if we all just gave into what we were ‘feeling’ bathroom stalls and parks throughout the country would be filled with impassionate but irresponsible couples fornicating.

So how do you balance the math and the magic? How do you choose which impulses to give into and which to suppress with rationale? It’s the age old question of how much head and how much heart.

Is the correct recipe half and half?

A bowl of heart with two teaspoons of rationale?

One has to assume the combination changes based on who you’re cooking for. You’d adjust the metrics if you were dating the free-rolling rock star (add another heaping cup of rationality) or the somber, serious thinker (go crazy on heart).

Or do you always keep your proportions the same regardless of who you’re dealing with?

Like you’re just an unwavering ¾ math ¼ magic romantic decision maker. Even so, how do you stick to such precise measurements when navigating the thick forest of infatuation and later, the abyss-like tunnel of terror that is love?

Who manages to bring their measuring cups along when soaring through the intensely pleasurable experience of falling for a fellow human being? And why should you tote around mathematically-based baggage? Things always get difficult down the road. Why not enjoy ‘the good zone’ worry free? Milk it for all it’s worth? No honeymoon’s lasted forever.

What I find fascinating is that even though these tactics represent two opposite extremes, they share a common goal: Pursuit of happiness. One is more indulgent. The other more wary. But both have your best interest at heart. Whether you should hold back or let go remains the mystery. Ultimately, you have to take the plunge and make that choice. If you know yourself well, you’ll most likely comprehend what to do. Second guess yourself, and you can end up feeling terrified. Terrified because the choice is entirely on your shoulders and there’s really no way but gut-instinct combined with a mature rationale, an emotional combination rarer than a solar eclipse, to get you the right answer. So most of us weave around, one extreme to the other, performing the emotional equivalent of the Sine graph to help balance things out.

Thus how you’re partner perceives you as ‘crazy.’

Yesterday, I began thinking about a topic that’d never really occurred to me before:

At what point does ‘getting to know you time’ with someone of the opposite sex morph into ‘just friends?’

Is it necessary that someone exhibit explicit romantic intentions from the get-go?

And most importantly, in what time frame do you need to get things heated up before becoming permanently platonic?

My only experience with these kinds of issues occurred with a male friend of mine we’ll call Grin. Grin was, and still is, the human result of what my ideal cooked up man would be like as far as looks, nationality, personality, and intelligence. Unfortunately, a lesser version of Grin, Mr. Grey, commanded all my emotional attention at the time – so while I was interested in Grin, I felt like I had enough on my man-plate, and never really got into it. Nevertheless, we’d meet up as friends, hang out and one another’s houses, and occasionally party together.

Then we started helping each other out with some business ventures and it became clear that our relations heading anywhere near the world of intimacy would be highly inappropriate.

Then he seemed too attractive. Untouchable. It’s like when you can appreciate a piece of artwork while having no desire to buy it. At a certain point, the romantic tension snapped and ceased existing.

Then we crossed that line and started telling each other about our love lives. For Grin, his obsession with this woman named Giulia who only lived in New York part time and who I saw as painstakingly average and uninteresting. For me, my rocky relationship with Mr. Grey, who he also knew.

The moment that our rubber band of romantic tension didn’t just snap, but got swept under the rug and forgotten, was when I met Giulia. Grin had made me aware that the woman he liked would be coming out with our group of friends that night. I chit-chatted with Giulia at the bar for twenty minutes thinking the entire time that Grin’s wonder woman had yet to arrive. It never occurred to me that my ‘perfect’ man would be interested in a woman who could be categorized as average. I expected a Giselle look-alike to saunter through the door.

This is when attraction didn’t just die, but got murdered and stepped on.

Men: I don’t think you realize how much other women define you by the woman you have on your arm. Shallow, but true.

It’s like when one of your male friends is dating a poll dancer with acrylics. You think – “Oh! That’s what he’s looking for? Really?” His stock plummets in a crash that’s impossible to recover from. You’ll never look at him the same way again.

When I saw that Grin’s obsession was a clearly very nice, but not an attractive, employable or exceedingly interesting woman, his transformation into ‘normal guy’ instead of ‘guy of my dreams’ was complete. Who am I to judge her? Giulia may be a fantastic individual, she just wasn’t what I was expecting.

Grin and I are close friends to this day, yet I still stop to wonder if we could’ve been the incredible power couple that exists in my mind. We were both attracted to one another, but somehow we missed the romantic boat. It’s like we had tickets for the cruise but ended up running around the marina lost for six hours. The timing was off and I guess my initial statements query if there’s a concrete time frame is for love.

Two weeks?

Two months?

Who makes the first move?

And why is making that move after you've got to know each other so much scarier than making a move with someone who you’re just lusting after?

I guess because when you’ve come to know and appreciate one another, there’s so much more at stake. Sometimes so much at stake that you’d rather keep the person in your life as a friend as opposed to losing them in a romantic tragedy.

Obviously, you want to get to know each other first.

Obviously, you don’t want to get to know each other so well that the thought of kissing the other person feels like incest.

Getting romantically involved with someone new, no matter how much time you take to get to know them or how many investigative background checks you run, is always a leap of faith. Regardless of the internet stalking you’ve accomplished or exes you’ve interviewed, once you admit to liking someone back everything will change – and never in a way you’d expect.

Unpredictability.

It’s what makes letting your New York robot-armor down so scary. The minute you’re ‘involved’ with another person, you forfeit control of the outcome.

Or do you?

God bless science. While for me science existed as the only high school course I loathed more than math because I actually had to move around and perform dumb experiments to prove things I didn’t understand instead of just looking at chalk board of things I didn’t understand, it turns out it may actually be helping my love life. The Washington Post recently ran an article about how men who posses a certain gene are biologically prone to be worse boyfriends and husbands. Check it out:

Men are more likely to be devoted and loyal husbands when they lack a particular variant of a gene that influences brain activity, researchers announced yesterday -- the first time that science has shown a direct link between a man's genes and his aptitude for monogamy.

The finding is striking because it not only links the gene variant -- which is present in two of every five men -- with the risk of marital discord and divorce, but also appears to predict whether women involved with these men are likely to say their partners are emotionally close and available, or distant and disagreeable. The presence of the gene variant, or allele, also seems predictive of whether men get married or live with women without getting married.

Can scientists start popping out an at home testing kit for this ASAP? I can envision it for sale in Duane Reade next to products like at home drug testing and pregnancy kits. Or they could even create a combination product. Like you test to see if you’re pregnant and how good a husband the father will be all at the same time. You wait till your man is sleeping or just distracted by a female passerby with double Ds and pluck a piece of his hair or something which you place in the at home testing kit to find out if he’s bad news or not.

What a fabulous idea!

The finding set off a debate about whether people should conduct genetic tests to find out whether potential mates are bad marriage prospects…"What this means is that some people will go into marriage with a stronger deck of cards…"

We test drive cars and sample ice cream flavors before committing. You’re about to sign up for a LIFETIME with someone – wouldn’t you want to know what you’re in for? Just how steep of an uphill battle it’s going to be? Not necessarily so you can dump them if their biological ability to commit doesn’t look good, but just so you can both have a little more awareness? Eliminate some of that terrifying unpredictability?

Then again, maybe it’s that unpredictability that keeps relationships interesting and alive. Sure nine times out of ten that you perform the leap of faith you’ll fall into the quarry, most likely also burned. But that one time you don’t is what ultimately make all the others falls worthwhile.

It’s important to keep jumping. I guess it boils down to how blindfolded (or not) you want to be.

My girlfriend and I were rolling around in the sand drinking bottles of Les Petites baby Evian (yes Evian makes baby Evian, for some reason, we found this uncontrollably hilarious) enjoying the salty air and the clear summer sky and realized we had nothing that legitimate to complain about. Then we remembered we were always pissed off at men.

Then she broke out with,

“Dude, I just want to be cherished. Why doesn’t he cherish me?”

We then proceeded to make a longwinded series of jokes about how we could make sure our future husbands never got lazy in their life purpose of making us feel worshipped.

Tattooing “Adore Her” on his wrist where his watch should be?

An electroshock wedding ring that stimulated the part of the brain that produces loving compliments at two hour intervals?

Making Madonna’s Cherish song his ringtone?

While I personally am the type that’s more likely to complain about feeling smothered rather than under-cherished, I could partially relate to her whining. Why is it that the men who are so gallant, well-mannered, well-organized, thoughtful, kind, and gentlemanly when they’re pursuing you revert to ill-mannered mongrels once they’ve conquered you?

This is why women get bitchy in stable relationships. Every time a guy doesn’t do the things it he did in courtship, he makes us feel like we’ve made a mistake in choosing him. And women hate to be wrong. Especially, when we have no one to blame but ourselves. It’s pretty simple:

Guys, imagine you’re at a power tool show room. There’s a super cool drill that you’re thinking of buying to install surround sound speakers and a HUGE plasma on your living room wall, where you’ll proceed to watch the best porn of your life and be permanently content in your existence. The salesman in the showroom shows you all the drill’s features – different speeds, different functionalities, battery power and after really thinking things through, you purchase the thing. Once you get it home in your living room, it fails to work and your dreams of a content existence are shattered.

Wouldn’t you be upset?

Wouldn’t you feel cheated?

Wouldn’t you get angry?

Wouldn’t you want to pick fights about life’s small details in a hormonal rage?

And most importantly, wouldn’t you want to smash the non-functional drill into pieces and slap around the manipulative salesman that tricked you into buying it?

Yeah, see men, that’s how we feel about you once you fail to continuously provide the esteem and admiration you demonstrated during courtship.

I asked a male about this over white wine on Monday night. He said that it’s so much more difficult for men to emotionally open up than it is for women. When they do, it’s a huge accomplishment. They feel like they’ve given you SO much that all the other little things (holding open doors, getting out of bed to walk you to a cab) just seem trivial. While to us ladies, these things are far from trivial because failing to perform them gives us buyer’s remorse. And when we feel like we’ve erred, we’re sure as Hell not pretty, and probably fail to have any resemblance to the creature you picked up in our metaphorical show room as well.

Solution?

I dunno. Meet somewhere halfway? Women, expect a downgrade in treatment as things normalize and just try to relish in the fact that he’s not being the emotional equivalent of a rock? Men, try to pretend that you don’t know we like you back yet, even when you do?

Yuck. Sounds like game playing might be the way to go.

Dear MB –

Two and a half months ago a guy, I’ll call him G, started pursuing me non-stop. I never dug him, but he was such a relentless ‘hunter’ that somewhere six weeks in, I started to get into it. I slowly let myself admit to liking him back and things seemed really good. Now he’s completely ignoring me. After such a long courtship / pursuit?!??! What gives? Isn’t this just mean?

Well, sounds like you got your feelings hurt.

Getting your feelings hurt is sort of like the guaranteed bench time in the vicious game of tackle football which is relationships. It appears to me that you scored yourself an IMOP.

An Insecure Man On the Prowl.

This is an especially dangerously species of man beast since their need to hunt you can easily be misinterpreted as genuine affection.

Here’s my theory:

Only incredibly insecure men hunt women they’re not interested in. The men I’ve met that are into this whole ‘game’ mentality of wining you, dining you, achieving you, and ditching you are the guys that need to win women in order to feel good about themselves. They’re addicted to the score. And it’s always been my personal interpretation that these guys have the self-esteem of a garden slug.

Why use the conquering of another random human being to make you feel manly or cool or worthwhile? What a waste of everyone’s New York minute.

My message to the IMOPs out there and your message to G, if he ever phones you again which he probably won’t, is “Get a hobby!”

A hobby besides hunting hunnies.

Men who are really good at something in and out of the office don’t have time to go on a lot of romantic rabbit chases. They already know they’re worthwhile. These fellows already feel good about themselves because they’re the best downhill skier out of their friends, the number one wake boarder in the state, a marathon runner, or the innovator of a genius entrepreneurial idea.

What truly talented or successful man, who’s created a life he’s invigorated by, has the time or volition to make women he’s not even that interested in fall for him for sport? A guy who’s confident and at one with himself doesn’t need that kind of random ego boost. I guess that means most of us aren’t confident or at one with ourselves, because women are equally guilty of using men for self-esteeming pumping purposes.

Sad story.

But I do want to tell all the IMOPs out there that they’d really benefit from putting their time and energy elsewhere. Like I once said to my friend the Argentine:

“If you put one tenth of the energy you dedicate to seducing women into some sort of business venture, you’d be a millionaire twice over by now.”

Because here’s the thing that I think so many men miss:

Scoring babes isn’t an accomplishment. Every woman in the planet is a sitting duck waiting to be seduced. We’re anticipating the arrival of our White Knight and we’ll work hard to manipulate ourselves into thinking it’s you.

When you think of it this way, what IMOPs are doing really isn’t that impressive or difficult. You might have to work a little to figure out what to do and say to make a woman let her guard down and incorrectly trust you, but I equate this to learning how to drive a stick shift car. It’s rough your first few times behind the wheel and exhilarating as you learn the gears, the clutch and how much pressure to apply at once, but once you’ve got it – you’ve got it. There’s really nothing impressive about doing you errands driving a stick car once you’ve learned how. Just like there’s really nothing that impressive about scoring dozens of women once you’ve mastered the general art of seduction.

So the point of talking about the IMOP in relation to our reader question is that yes, I agree it’s “just mean,” but don’t beat yourself up over it feeling bad. You did nothing wrong except respond to an IMOPs advances with what appears cautiousness (good!), optimism and sincerity.

What more could you have done? You don’t own a crystal ball! You had reason to believe this person was really into because of the extend time and extra effort he put in. This time around you were wrong. Next time, I hope you won’t be. What’s important is that you had the self-confidence to really put yourself out there. Spineless G probably can’t even imagine what it’s like to have the guts the do something like that.

It’s late, well past midnight. I’ve been drinking. Desire has replaced reason. I know it’s wrong, but I can’t help myself. I swore I wouldn’t go crawling back, but it’s just too easy. I’ll hate myself in the morning--more like early afternoon--but, right now, I just don’t care.

I need Veselka.

No, I’m not having a lustful love affair with some Eastern European hottie. Veselka is a 24-hour diner in my neighborhood and I’m there late-night again with a desperate hankering for an egg, sausage and cheese sandwich.

The sandwich is $3.75--far cheaper than any drink I consumed that night. I’m sitting with five of my girlfriends. What is it about drinking that makes our appetites go wild?

If alcohol is supposed to release us from our inhibitions, what does it mean when five girls out for a crazy night in the big city all end up in a diner, ravenous for nothing more than a hearty breakfast?

Maybe it’s a reflection of our reluctance to embrace the real world. All of us are either struggling to find a job or adjusting to the entry-level lifestyle. In this transition, we cling to what we know - that nourishment and familiarity warm food provides.

All of us feel pretty skeptical about the life after college, each in our own ways. I, for one, remain particularly wary about dating. I went to a college in a small town. I knew everyone at the party. This environment gave me the insight to do a heavy background check on anyone that I was interested in. Now that this is no longer an option, I feel a little lost, a little vulnerable. Googling someone isn’t the same as already knowing his three best friends.

Thus, if a guy, a stranger, starts talking to me in the bar, I’m suspicious. I have to assume the worst. Through the screen of such paranoia, friendly small talk is lost in translation. For example:

Guy in bar: “What’s up? I’m Danny.”
I hear: Want sex! Have HPV!

“Can I get you a drink?”
Can I roofie your drink?

"Do you live around here?"
Crabs to give! Herpes here!

At this point I mumble something about going to the bathroom and get out of there.

Such fear is unfounded and unfair, but I can’t help it. I was educated by the D.A.R.E. program. I learned never to take candy from strangers and that if someone offers you an apple, it probably has a razor blade inside of it.

My reluctance to prowl for men has left me reduced to another instinctual hunt: the quest for food.

So Veselka becomes my new late night lover. And maybe the other girls would look at me cross-eyed if I shared my little analysis of exactly how and why I think we’re in here eating instead of out there continuing the party train. For now, we’re sticking to what we know: greasy food and good company.

Maybe someday I’ll accept the reality that shaking hands with a stranger in a bar won’t give you HPV, but for now, I’m happy to call it a night with Veselka.

Today we address a reader question:

Dear MB,

I was dating this girl for the past four weeks or so. She leaves at the end of the month. We go out on 3 great dates, make out, hold hands, all that. She comes to my place one night and…you know, things get heavy and I want it to go all the way, right? ... She's leaving anyway at the end of the month...but she complicates the whole matter of sex and doesn't want to go through with it. I however, see it as a simple thing. She leaves soon anyway, so why not? Why do women make everything so complicated? Is it baggage or social stigma?

Ummmm. Where to begin?

Why do women complicate everything by actually thinking with our brains and not just our genitals?

Well,

In your situation, I think it has to do with metrics.

You know: her number.

There are some free-spirited women out there who get off feeling empowered by doing things like gangbanging in bathroom stalls, but most of us have a lot of self-consciousness or at least deep feelings around the number of people we’ve slept with. In a frightening modern world, I can only speak for myself and the women I know, but we’re all pretty interested in keeping that number as low as possible.

Why?

Because the textbook definition of a slut is someone who has slept with a lot of people.

This is why most women would rather get hot and heavy with an ex and tend to recycle men rather than getting involved with someone new (not to mention that getting involved with someone new can be terrifying since you’re putting yourself out on a physical and emotional limb).

Keeping this new perspective in mind, you’re just a bad investment. She’s moving at the end of the month and will most likely never see you again, so why would she want to up her number for someone she’ll only get to sleep with once? Either

a) She’s just not that into you, because trust me, if a girl’s into you enough she’ll throw common sense out the window. Also, I’ve had men say to me, “I know she likes me because she made-out with me.” That’s like saying, “I know the earth is flat because that’s what it looks like.”

It’s just so wrong!

Some girls are make-out mavens, either because they’re drinking or making-out seems like good placation – a lot easier than confronting you or letting you down. If a girl likes you she’ll be making-out with you and doing twenty-five other affectionate things like consistently touching you, always answering your phone calls, immediately responding to your texts and engaging in sustained eye-contact. If she’s just pulling an occasional make-out without any of the other stops, I’d say she’s lukewarm at most, and just keeping you around for entertainment value.

b) Maybe she’s too into you and sleeping with you and then never seeing you again isn’t the ripping off a band-aid kind of pain she wants to engage in recreationally. Remember, for most women it’s extremely difficult get non-emotional about sex. And it’s not our fault. We’re biologically made this way for the purposes of child-rearing.

Which leads me to my next topic, “abandonment issues.” I’ve got abandonment issues up the wazoo and most of my close female friends suffer from the illness at some level as well. Once you take the plunge with someone, the fear is that they’ll vanish, disappear, go Poof!, walk out on you, leave you alone to rot. In your situation, there’s a guarantee of abandonment. She may be into you, but if she has her head on right she’s probably not going to want to sign up for that.

If you’re seriously interested in this girl, spend your time talking about what happens after she leaves. When you’ll next see each other, how much you want to keep in touch, stuff like that to quell her fears and help her understand that this is something you hope to continue on whatever level you decide. But if your approach is just, “let’s get it on before you get lost,” I can understand why she’s not…um…opening up.

A close girlfriend of mine had a fail proof comeback to pickup lines we’d hear out at bars.

“Thank you. I’m [insert your name]. I’m twenty-nine and dating for marriage.”

This got unwanted guys sprinting for the door as if the fire alarm had just sounded. Or their jaws would just drop and they’d stand frozen, looking around helplessly like we’d just trapped them in a glass cage.

Now my same friend is Google-chatting me about how she’s punch-the-wall angry that her significant other, a guy she’s been dating for over a year and was close friends with for two years prior, won’t hypothesize about marriage with her. This brought us to the question: If you’re in a relationship do you have to hypothetically see yourself married?

For flings, fun, casual dating, no. But for a relationship that’s emotional and exclusive?

A rendering of our conversation below:

Her: The worst is that now I can't let it go. Like, you know how in a relationship each side has its own little digs. Points of contention. That's mine!

Me: Ok but before we get irrational, what's the other side of the argument? Like what’s his take on your relationship?

Her: That it's fun. He's happy, whatever that means. He's comfortable. He's learning, growing, supported. And if it doesn’t end up with flowers, butterflies and a wedding march, he's okay with that. I, on the other hand, see it as a total waste of time.

Me: So he won't hypothesize about you two being married, but he'll hypothesize about your future. What’s the difference?

Her: I don't know!!!! In his mind the future can involve us, even still dating, but not married. Do you think it would be awkward to ask, "Do you think I could be your penguin?"

Me: I don't see how animal analogies make anything better. He's probably just nervous about the word marriage.

Her: I mean, I antagonize him, but have yet to really address the situation head on.

Me: I think it boils down to is there some concrete reason he has for why he could never marry you (religion, race, background etc.) or is he just being a boy. Like if he has "wife qualifications” that you never will be able to meet its fair to want to know that by now.

Her: I just asked a guy in my office about it saying, "Who cares about fun? You can just have fun with a lot of people!" and he replied, "Maybe he is."

Me: Eeesh. My guess is he's crazy about you but just being a boy and has no idea about the future when it includes the M word.

Her: I mean, but I'm also only [age redacted.] Shouldn't I just be having fun? Why am I even thinking about this? I mean, I know why: Because these are the best years of my life and I want to make sure that I am using them to the best of my ability. What the HELL is his problem?

So there we have it. And here’s my unprofessional, unqualified, unasked for advice:

To the ladies: If you’re in a serious, exclusive relationship that you consistently fantasize about steering toward a lily-lined aisle, you deserve to know if your bf could never marry you because you’re not Jewish or too blonde.

Yet if there’s not a concrete “never” reason, relax! The need for a verbal commitment or acknowledgement of the future is understandable and may make you feel more secure in the moment, but remains worthless because words mean nothing! Even if he hypothesizes with you about a Santorini honeymoon vacation package, it doesn’t mean he won’t change his mind six-months later. And even if you do get the ring on his finger, it doesn’t mean you won’t catch him sleeping with his secretary and end up divorced. So stop obsessing about words and start living in the moment. If you’re in the present and both profoundly happy, chances are there’s a forever in your future.

To the gents: Newsflash: marriage isn’t like bird flu. The word is not a contagious, communicable, life-threatening disease. If your gf likes to talk about it a lot, don’t get your balls in a knot. It’s just a word, like “skiing.” If someone talks about skiing do you hyperventilate thinking that this person is going to somehow trap you on a mountain through manipulation and force you to ski down? No! Just like it takes two to tango, it takes two to get married (remember the “I do” part of the service? You have free will.) Hypothesizing about marriage with your long term gf doesn’t mean you’ll wake up the next morning chained to an alter.

The sad reality is that most people sooner or later succumb to social convention and get hitched. Being man enough to know that you’ll one day follow suit makes you a realist, makes her really happy, and doesn’t mean you’ve signed your life away.

Men: Put it down! Throw it out. Step on it. This is the number one backstabbing product available for commercial purchase.

I’m not exaggerating when I say I’ve seen guys sans hair gel that I deemed hot enough to want to get cozy in a hot tub with and then later when they’re gel-ed out (I’m guessing in a misguided effort to dress up / impress) I’m unable to even view them as a sexual being. Any chemistry or attraction has been brutally murdered to the extent that recovery isn’t possible. Setting the product aflame once I’ve seen you in it won’t help. The image of you with your head incased in what looks like frying pan grease has taken up permanent residence in my brain in the area called, “things that disgust me to the point of self-mutilation.”

One of my exes appeared one night with the very tippy-top of his semi-curly locks lightly stiffened, frosted so subtly not even his mother would pick up on it. My reaction was a shrill:

“WHAT DID YOU DO!?!?!?”

He admitted he’d lightly glossed his dry locks with conditioner. It wasn’t as horrific in texture or glean as gel, so we were able to recover after several choruses of me reprimanding over the sink as he washed it out, “Why would you DO that!? Are you trying to make me never want to sleep with you again?”

I don’t want to date someone who experiments with conditioner on his dry hair when getting ready to go out. I don’t want to touch a man who spends quality time each evening with his mirror and a bottle of gel. I want to date a MAN. You know, one who chases things, is often dumb, fights to defend my honor, dresses well enough that I won’t criticize him but not better than me, one who is completely clueless that hair enhancing products like gel exist for his gender.

If I wanted to date someone who was into hair products I’d go out with the gay, Brazilian hairdresser who does my highlights or a girl. Men, the world of gel is just not your arena – primarily because it’s an arena which requires intense self-control and a high ability to perceive, mimic and execute couture fashion.

This leads me into my next point. If you consider yourself one of those special men with off the chart aesthetic abilities who needs gel to keep unruly hair under control, feel free to use it as long as us females can’t tell it’s there. If you can execute product application in a way that makes your hair naturally Antonio Banderas-like, you won’t hear me complaining because I'll be in the dark. If you can achieve this without the help of a professional stylist, go for it. Otherwise, boot-kick those products out of your window now. Believe it or not, being manly - i.e. different from us, is actually the number one reason we like you.

You’ve been dating for a few weeks. Let’s hypothesize that you’re out to dinner. He goes to bathroom and you’re left alone with IT, his cell phone – the digital epicenter of his world, sitting on the restaurant table across from you. It’s accessible and annoyingly tantalizing.

Who hasn’t thought about snatching it and downing the contents like a binge eater devours a milkshake?

Probably people in really successful, trusting relationships.

I don’t know anybody like that. And even the couples we admire, the ones who trust their partner enough to be naked in a hot tub with supermodels of the opposite sex, couldn’t have been so confident at the beginning. Trust is a plant that takes a long time to grow and if you’ve been burned in the past, you might even be allergic to it. Trust is the most fundamental need in a relationship, while simultaneously being the most fragile.

So does developing trust mean snatching your partner’s phone to make sure there isn’t any dirty late night texts with someone named Cassandra? Or does it mean having faith that there’s no dirt at all and taking the highroad, keeping your hands on your own Crackberry?

A girlfriend of mine was privy enough to be left alone with the guy she’d starting dating's cell phone. She had no qualms whatsoever. Before he’d been gone five seconds she flipped it open and went straight to the text messaging section. What she found was both good and bad.

The bad news: He had text conversations going with half a dozen girls who he clearly had slept with / was sleeping with / wanted to sleep with.

The good news: In response to some of the more pressing texts, he mentioned that he was seeing someone (my friend) and that it was someone he really liked.

By being a creepshow and violating his privacy, my friend got the straightest, cleanest, no bullshit answer possible on their relationship status.

Isn’t that what everyone wants?

Cell phone violation can give you the uncensored truth. A person usually can’t. Whether it’s because they don’t want to hurt your feelings or they haven’t figured out how they feel yet or because they’re a liar, doesn’t matter. If you don’t trust someone, asking “Can I trust you?” is futile, because you’re already pointing out that you don’t feel like you can fully believe what they say.

I did stealth phone control with two men in my life. Both were people I was in grey relationships with and in both cases I was hoping the phone control might unleash some sort of relationship clarity.

It never did.

Sometimes I found nothing suspicious and felt reassured. Other times, I’d find something suspicious, but not clear-cut enough to take it as evidence to People’s Court and tear him apart with “BOOO!s.” And even if you find the concrete verification of infidelity you’re secretly hoping isn’t there, what then? You start a conversation with, “So I was violating your privacy reading your phone and found xxx?”

Who’s the asshole now?

On the one hand, I think phone control is for cowards. It’s a non-confrontational way to try to read between the lines of an issue that’s important enough to be confronted about.

On the other hand, if someone has nothing to hide, why does it matter?

Sometimes it can happen that you just want the primary relationships in your life to be with a computer, your refrigerator and a TV (work – nourishment – pleasure). Maybe you were a former rock star who’s burned out. A former D-list celebrity that no longer craves human interaction. Someone who was detrimentally hurt in a past relationship. Someone who’s a loner genius. Or a normal person that’s just retracting into a protective shell since dealing with other people is so SCARY.

Is taking a break from fellow homo-sapiens healthy? Or is it signaling your transformation into a robotic mutant?

Observe AIM convo below, and note that conversations involving the meaning of life should never take place on AIM since the device actually tracks your comments, enabling you to look back on statements and realize what a whack-job you are.

[Redacted1]: i don't even know. i think every fiber of my being is telling me i don't want to be dating / getting involved with anyone right now. this is why i'm osama-bin-ladening my dates

[Redacted2]: well, then don't. you're so busy, sweetheart and having to dedicate time and attention to someone else would only take away from everything that you are doing for you~ so don't!

[Redacted1]: yeah i already did the relationship thing

[Redacted2]: yeah, and i mean years down the road, you might relationship again, but if you don’t want to now, don’t! p.s. I'm eating a reeses peanut butter cup & loving it

[Redacted1]: i had the Ben and Jerry's ice cream version of that this weekend. it was awesome

[Redacted2]: it is waaay okay to be single

[Redacted1]: yeah i'm telling u. enough of this random BS. i'm paying someone down the road to find me true love

[Redacted2]: side note: I really just want to write, "stop sucking" on people's facebook walls

[Redacted1]: there are matchmaker ppl who have crazy vibes and make like 26marriages a year. they exist - and if I work my ass off I'll be able to afford them. money can buy happiness

[Redacted2]: agreed. in fact, i would argue that love doesn't bring happiness, money does. think about how much being in love sucks. i'm miserable. at the end of the day, there are so many other ways to be fulfilled: so many more stable, dependable, and productive ways. human interactions / relationships are super overrated. just look at our parents, not to mention our relationships with them

[Redacted1]: i feel like we should somehow get this conversation published. it's hilarious. in a sad way.

[Redacted2]: do it

So there you have it. Are human interactions, dare I say it, overrated? With longtime friends, I’d say no. With members of the opposite sex, well, unless you end up getting married, it’s going to end badly. And marriage usually ends in divorce. So really your best case scenario encompasses a lifetime worth of problems, taxes, responsibilities, growing bored of each other and making sacrifices for someone else. If that’s the rare win, who in their right mind would want to play?

And suddenly, I’m transported back to Rose Bar summer 2007, where I was consuming hot tea (yes, hot tea in swanky Rose Bar) chatting with a guy friend of mine from Britain about this exact topic. I was unsurprisingly in some sort of romantic crisis I can no longer recall, giving my usual sociopathic speech of depression about how romantic involvement with others is futile. He shot back with,

“But it’s worth it.”

I’m sure I sneered back.

“It’s worth it to have relationships,” he said, “and to be committed to them. Whether it lasts six weeks or six years. Because you learn something about yourself. You’ll take something away. It’s worth it.”

He said this with a lot of conviction which was both annoying and reassuring.

Then I realized that I probably have an unusually low emotional pain threshold, because for me, the feelings of loss and anger and sadness in break-up world made it really hard to notice that all the good times proceeding made it worthwhile – One of the many downsides of being a perfectionist and expecting things to go right all the time. Yet I knew my friend was right. At least I hoped he was right, not really at the time because I wanted to win the argument, but now a year later I genuinely do hope he was right. It makes the world a lot less depressing.

So instead of approaching the next object of your affection with expectations of wonderfulness, maybe it’s better to approach with the mindset of, “This will end badly, but will it be worth it?” If you something moves you enough to think it’ll be worth it, then it’s probably worth risk.

Not rainbows and bunnies, I know. But better than opting to live in an emotional bomb shelter where you never see daylight.