Old-Fashioned

I have this one homegirl who sux at dating. She never returns guy's phone calls in a timely manner, forgets to text them back, and is not so good with flirting. In short, she doesn't give guys that subtle push of encouragement that they need to start (and keep) the ball rolling.

So I'm something like her coach now. Having spent the past 3.5 years dating in new york city, I feel somewhat like a pro.

The problem is, she claims that she's "old-fashioned" when it comes to dating. She likes guys to pursue her--ask her out, pick the place, arrange things, etc., without her having to do anything.

Two things wrong with that (aside from it being a bit lazy). Most guys, especially those that live in NY, are decidedly NOT old-fashioned. Because they're either from here (which is an entire different conversation in itself) or they moved here to escape whatever old-fashioned, boringness that existed in their hometowns. It's a new day. Life isn't old-fashioned anymore. We facebook and twitter now. Get over it.

Secondly, you can not expect things to be old-fashioned when it comes to dating if you don't hold up your end of the old-fashioned role. She rarely cooks, is very vocal about her hatred for cleaning, refuses to be the one carrying the burden of doing laundry. Overall, she hates the fact that she, as a women, is expected to do the majority of these things. Thus, rendering her not so old-fashioned at all.

My point to her was that you can't expect an old-fashioned courtship to translate into a new post-feminism relationship where the two people form an equal partnership and split everything equally. Dating sets up a precedent of gender roles that will undoubtedly transition into the relationship.

If you want to be treated as an equal, then don't be afraid to call and ask him out on the first date, pick the restaurant yourself even. If old-fashioned is what you want, then get your ass in the kitchen!

The Relationship Peace-Out

Anyone who knows me knows that I'm the biggest lover of love there is. It’s like I’m made of sugar & spice, romantic comedies & R&B music. But what I don’t like about love is this one peculiar phenomenon that consumes some women—the fly, independent, single kind that Ne-Yo likes to make songs about—who fall into it. I like to call it “the relationship peace-out.” I've lost two friends to this disease. And in NYC, that’s a lot. I've tried and tried to wrap my mind around it, to no avail.


We’re both single and free, gallivanting around the city to parties, plays, premiers and the like. She starts dating someone and it’s like yay! for you and your cute new boo. But then it gets serious. And all of a sudden, she’s gone like poof!


Now I understand that new relationships need special attention so that they can bloom. And sometimes, it’s necessary for a girl to go all MIA for a minute to handle that. I’ve been that chick before. But after that period has run it’s course, you’re supposed to get right back to you girls. (Because LAWD knows when THAT mf efs up, your girl is the one you call when you need a place to crash for the night.)

I don’t expect you to spend QUITE as much time with your girls anymore, and don’t even mind when you include him in the festivities at times. I understand when you come late, or dip out early to kick it with him. I realize that you’re no longer the go-to person for random, bored Saturday night adventures, since you’re probably spending the night with your new man.


But dayum. You can’t go bowling anymore? We’ve been going bowling every Thursday for the past year, and now you can’t...EVER.

Oh, and you can’t do brunch on Sundays anymore either? My birthday party conflicts with his what? But wait, what about your phone? Does that work? Because I’ve called you a few times and...did you get my text...

Poof!


She’s gone. Relationship peace-out.

Diarrhea Dooms Date

4th date. Dinner + Movie

Okay, so it’s been a stressful couple of weeks. And my culinary choices haven’t been optimal. For example, on Wednesday, my menu solely consisted of a cinnabon, a small bag of Dale & Thomas caramel popcorn, and a 20 oz Strawberry Wirl from Jamba Juice. Completely yummy, completely filling, and completely UNnutritious.

So I thought I was doing my body good by finally ordering something green at the small soul food joint that my date suggested.

Yeah right.

A couple hours later, about an hour into the movie, my stomach begins to churn in that ominous, painful way that’s impossible to ignore. So I discretely excuse myself to the restroom, and think I’m home free.Only thing is, I’ve been gone from my seat for longer than the average time allotted for a bathroom trip. So I get a text from my date: “Is everything okay?”

Um. Embarrassing.

So I tell him that I was standing in the back of the theater…because it was too dark to find my seat again…and then got caught up in the move…and just stood there…in the back of theater. Yes, it was a stupid alibi. But he seemed to buy it. So, I’m good right?

Hell no.

My stomach still had a point to make. And half an hour later, I was forced with the dilemma. Stay seated, and ignore it (impossible) or get up yet AGAIN from my seat, crawl over the people in the overcrowded theater AGAIN and go to the bathroom AGAIN. What's a classy girl to do?

True. I’m human. It happens to everyone. I understand this. But this is not the impression I’m trying to leave with this guy--the fact that I'm not really into him matters not. There's NO way that I was about to tell the dude I what's really going on. Such revelations are reserved only for immediate family members and really, REALLY close friends/significant others, and even then, it's on a need to know basis.

So what did I do? I grabbed my purse, made up an excuse about being sleepy, said good-bye and hightailed it out of the theater and back into the bathroom. Before leaving, I sent him a text saying that I’d had a great time, but was really sleepy and was headed home.

Yeah, it was fucked up to leave the guy in the middle of the theater. But the way I see it, I didn’t really have any other option. Especially since if I’d gone back into the theater, I may have even have had to get up again and there would've been NO way to explain that one.

So I ignored his 15+ phone calls/texts that night ranging from pathetic inquires: “what did I do to deserve this? (“this,” apparently being deserting him in the middle of the movie theater) to calm pleas to come over to my house to discuss what happened. I also ignored the buzzer when he actually SHOWED UP at my house. Thank goodness I beat him there. (Obviously, I had to take a cab home to ensure that I arrived to the safe confines of my own bathroom swiftly and promptly).

It’s sad, because he was a perfect gentleman the whole time we dated. We could’ve enjoyed a few more weeks together before I let him know that I wasn’t really attracted to him and was relegating him to the friend zone.Plus, I’m sure that he now thinks of me as the nutty bitch with poor interpersonal skills who just up and left him in the movie theater.
But I prefer that to him actually knowing the truth. Because that’s sooo not classy. And way too nasty. Even for me.