Before we get to my post, just a quick blog announcement: since we started Stupid Cupid over a year ago, we’ve always referred to our dates by their first initial. This was easy and effective enough in the beginning, but it’s come to our attention that this practice is now confusing as shit. It’s simple math, really: there are a finite number of letters in the alphabet, and apparently an infinite number of douchey single guys. The longer we date, the more repeats we’re going to have. We can imagine what a pain it must be for you guys to keep everyone straight while reading about our shenanigans. I mean, I recently dated a D, and then co-blogger D dated a D, and then both of those Ds dumped us. It’s like a 21st century Abbott and Costello routine. So, to quote my co-blogger:

D: TOO MANY D’S UP IN HERE – WE’RE SWITCHING TO NICKNAMES

Damn straight we are. From this point forward, all new dudes we go out with will receive a nickname, probably based on a noticeable characteristic or a funny anecdote, but I make no promises as to the consistency (or, frankly, the fairness) of our naming practices. To avoid further confusion, dudes we’ve already written about will still be referred to by their initials; as you’ll see below, D who dumped me is still D (you narrowly missed receiving a nickname containing the words ‘nerd’ and ‘stalker’, sir. You’re welcome.)

We hope this will make things less confusing for you guys, and we’re pretty sure this nickname thing will be an enjoyable practice for us as well. Spoiler alert: the first bachelor to have a nickname bestowed upon him is a guy co-blogger D went out with last weekend, and his nickname involves Japanese food. I assure you, the story behind the name is delightful.

**End blog announcement**

The dust is settling on my break up with D two weeks ago. I’m still processing things, but that initial sting of rejection (which was really more like a punch in the gut) has faded into something more like a dull ache. On a whole, I feel better, but that also changes day by day (and even hour by hour). Last week I was feeling really good about the whole thing; almost obnoxiously so. People were like, wow… you seem to be doing great! And I was all…

Yes, I saw the Lego movie. I told you, I dated a nerd for months.

Anyway, last week everything was awesome, because the weather was gorgeous and I had a ton of fun plans to distract me. This week, it’s been torrential down-pouring, and there’s essentially a tumbleweed rolling across my Google calendar, so I’m a little closer to this than I’m entirely comfortable admitting:

I miss D, even though we’ve been talking. I promise you, “talking” is not a euphemism for anything. We’re genuinely trying to figure out this friends thing, which has been really nice in some ways but also confusing as hell, because I think neither one of us knows exactly how to act towards one another now. The boundaries are different, and the dynamics are different, and it’s…fucking weird. When we agreed to try to remain friends, I told him I reserved the right to change my mind at any point if I started to feel differently, and I’m still playing by those rules. If I wake up tomorrow and am all:

then we’ll call it a day. PS you might be interested to know the results of our little poll: 36% of you keep in touch with your ex(es). Okay, well that makes me feel a little less crazy for trying this. Then again, 33% of you answered “hell no”, so there’s that. Anyway, the experiment continues, and I will keep you all posted.

D also informed me last week that he read and loved both of my posts, which made me cringe ever so slightly. It’s one thing to know that he’s going to read them, and it’s another to receive actual confirmation that he did. After I published part 2 of my post, this fun little exchange occurred:

Uhhhh apparently it’s 2003, because…

Is that the most Aspies thing you’ve ever seen in your life? WHO DOES THAT? I reminded D that I had been really understanding and gracious about the whole being dumped thing, but that that goodwill only goes so far. Translation: do not poke the bear. The dumped bear.

Even though my mood this week has been what some might call “unique”, I have had some time to get used to being single again. And while in some ways it sucks a big huge fat one and I hate the world, in others it actually doesn’t feel bad. It even has its moments of being (dare I say this on a blog where we complain about being single 24-7?) sort of nice. One thing I’ve learned about being in a relationship, even a good one, is that you invest a lot of time and emotional energy into another person and the relationship as a whole. This is/was wonderful in many ways, and in a great relationship what you get back in return of course makes all that effort more than worth it (ugh low point, I just mentioned ROI on our dating blog. Please accept my sincerest apologies). But this particular relationship wasn’t working towards the end, and in hindsight, I really did feel kind of drained, and also like I was neglecting myself a little bit. I’m not saying that D was needy or demanding or that this was his fault, because clearly it takes two to tango. I’m saying there’s a little bit of an exhale happening that I’m actually kind of enjoying.

So, with that in mind, I’m making a concerted effort to look on the bright side/think positively/not be a perpetual Debbie Downer about this break up. Even as I typed that last sentence, I secretly thought…

If you’ve been reading this blog, you know that positivity of any kind is a fairly foreign concept  around these parts. Be that as it may, I’ve decided to give it a try, because what the hell? Here’s how I’m looking at it: having more free time and freed up energy is an awesome thing. I have more time to do shit just for me, figure out what I want next in my life, chat up my friends more, maybe find a fun new hobby, write, and just…chill. I hope this doesn’t come off as some smug Eat, Pray, Love bullshit, because God I hated that book…

Basically I’m picturing the next weeks/months of my life as a breezy dream where this happens:

Why yes, Ina, I’d love to.

So… besides not having a house in the Hamptons, here’s the issue. You may recall that I stayed on Okcupid the whole time I was with D for blogging purposes. I changed my status from single to ‘seeing someone’ (which of course did nothing but attract cheating losers instead of single losers) but wasn’t talking to anyone. After D and I broke up, I changed my status back to single, because, you know, accurate. I expected to get a slew of visitors and an underwhelming flurry of one word or unintelligible messages from random douchebags, which don’t worry, I did. It didn’t occur to me for one second that I might actually get a good message, because, I mean, have you been reading this blog? Good messages are like unicorns: they’re rare, they’re mythical, and they appear to only exists in books, movies and our imagination. 

You know where this is going, right? I got a good message. Actually, a great one. I clicked on the guy’s profile, half praying for it to be awful or illegible or insane. But of course, nope. At first glance, this looked to be someone I would be thrilled to go out with: smart, funny, interesting, and cute. You know, basically…

God. Damn. It.

In my almost two year career as a part time online dater (and full time pessimist), I’m pretty sure I can count ON ONE HAND the number of times I’ve gotten a really good message from someone with a nice, normal profile who was also taller than me and appeared to be cute. Dismayed, I sought L’s sage advice. We decided that my options were:

1. Ignore the message completely
2. Write back explaining that I’d just gotten out of a five month relaysh and am not ready to date yet
3. Write back normally and see what happens

Option 1 was vetoed immediately, because hi, do I have to make that stupid unicorn analogy again? I’ve seen the dating pool, and let me tell you, shit is rough. I wasn’t about to ignore something promising just because of bad timing.

Option 2 seemed to be the most up front, but something about laying my sad breakup story, even a super abridged version, on a total stranger screamed bad idea/wild over share. Also, one message from someone is absolutely no guarantee that you’ll receive a second, and I decided if I bore my heart to this dude and he didn’t respond, I might ACTUALLY kill myself. Mama can only take so much rejection. Thus, Option 2 was vetoed.

Which left… write back normally and see what happens. I did, and I got a response, another great one. At that point, it was actually surprisingly tempting to just say fuck it, keep a back and forth going and see what it led to. I mean, flirting is fun/boys are cute/distractions are tempting/validation is intoxicating, particularly after you’ve been rejected.

Don’t worry, I quickly came to my senses.

I knew, deep down, that if I pursued this dude or frankly any dude right now, it would be 1. way wayyyy too soon and 2. for all the wrong reasons, namely a distraction from the D stuff. I’m in no way ready to get involved with someone new, and also, the last two people I’ve been involved with had both recently gotten out of super serious relationships, and that turned out to be the source of most of our problems. I mean hello, I got dumped in part because D still had feelings for his ex, so I have firsthand experience with people who jumped back into the game too early, and it’s not something I want to perpetuate. So…

I sent the cute guy another message, laying it all out there, and asking if I could contact him when I was ready to date again. To which he said yes. I don’t know when that will be, exactly, but for now I’ve got plenty of DVR and dreams of channeling The Barefoot Contessa to keep me occupied.

Ladies and gentleman, call me Alex Ovechkin, because I just gave the girls of StuCu blog our very first hat trick.

That’s right, after getting up the courage to admit to myself, and of course, the blogosphere, that I actually might like Basketbro T, he’s gonna go ahead and dump me Sunday morning, post sleepover at my apartment. 

I mean:

https://isthiswhyimstillsingle.wordpress.com/

I don’t know. I mean, is this the universe’s way of punishing us for having a dating blog? (IF YOU ARE READING THIS AND YOU SAID YES, GO AWAY BECAUSE I’M ‘MOTIONAL AND CANNOT DEAL WITH YOU RIGHT NOW). More likely, it’s just an extremely unfortunate coincidence that is so absurdly depressing, it is actually a bit funny. 

I mean, over at StuCu, we’re nothing if not dramatic.

So, let’s get right to it and answer the important questions about Dumping #3:

Wait a second, who is this guy? And why is he “Basketbro T”?

In five sentences or less…

He’s a guy I’ve been seeing since the beginning of March. He lived in a hideous suburb 40 mins from DC. Best things about him were: his sense of humor, down to earthiness, and his competence/reliability in making plans. It also didn’t hurt that he was a cutie. Per our new blog protocol, I decided to call him Basketbro T because he loves college basketball and actually writes for a sports blog as a side hustle. I could have picked a more pejorative, alliterative nickname, but because he’s a nice guy, and, at the end of the day, I’m a classy girl, I’ll stick with Basketbro.

That was 6 sentences. Keep it short L; some of us are reading this at work. Now, what went wrong?

Look, I never though this guy was “the one” or anything. In fact, I kept describing him as mediocre to my girlfriends, and while it’s well documented I have a fetish for that sort of thing (and sports bloggers for that matter! Can you believe this is the SECOND SPORTS BLOGGER I’VE DATED? Watch out Kevin Durant, because I’m thinking of just upgrading to straight-up athletes), I knew I could never be with someone who so wholeheartedly did not challenge me at all. And while it was bad enough he lived in the suburbs, Basketbro T also feared and hated the city. I mean, the first time he came over to my apartment, he made me walk him to his car, which was parked a block away, at 2:30 a.m. And I live in a pretty nice part of DC. And I had to put pants AND a coat AND shoes on to walk him out.

lawstreetmedia.com

Well, I was determined to get Basketbro over his fear of the city, so last weekend I planned a bar crawl for us through some of my favorite neighborhoods. Thus far, he had taken initiative to plan all of our dates, and I figured, if this was going to work, I was going to need to pull my weight in the planning department. (This is extremely rare, btw, because usually men think “planning” a date involves sending a text saying something like: “What do you want to do? What time is good? Any place you have in mind? What should do I with my life?”)

But when Basketbro came by on Saturday, something was just…different. Maybe it was his body language? Maybe I just have a great sixth sense? 

http://wifflegif.com/tags/25649-the-sixth-sense-gifs

Well, not THAT great, but you get my gist. I immediately knew something was off.

But we went on our bar crawl and he was an enthusiastic participant (for the most part). And, he spent the night. But, when we said goodbye the next morning,  and he got in his car, I just got the feeling I wouldn’t see him again. 

So instead of just walking away, I turned around and knocked on his window.

Basketbro T: (Opens car door) Do you need a ride?

L: No silly, I live here. I just have this weird feeling that this is the last time we’ll see each other and I’d rather just get this conversation over with now than hash it out over text/phone later.

Basketbro T: (Sighs). Yeah…you’re right. It’s just the distance is a little much for me. And I don’t feel like we see each other enough. If I am going to take it to the next level with a girl, I need to see her more. 

L: OK…

Basketbro T: Plus, it feels the spark is kinda fizzling out.

L: That sounds right to me. I kind of anticipated this last night.

Baksetbro T: You’re a good person.  You deserve to find someone who lives closer to you.

L: Thanks. You too. Good luck to you.

Wow. What a mature conversation. So, how do you feel about the whole thing?

The minute he drove away, of course, I called S and cried. Sure, I knew deep down that I wasn’t that into him, and honestly, I probably would have ended it in a date or two for the same reasons. But it sucks to feel rejected, especially by a short, suburbs-dwelling auditor who wore oversize shirts and feared the mean streets of Northwest DC.  I couldn’t help but think:

https://isthiswhyimstillsingle.wordpress.com/

Also, I was somewhat hurt by the fact that homeboy was about to drive off and probably never contact me again, or send me a two line rejection text in a couple days. He and I had been out enough times that we’d discussed dating and relationships a bit, and I had made it super clear how much I disdained fadeaways and other cowardly behavior. I feel like I shouldn’t have had to demand the explanation I deserved.  

Lastly, I am just disappointed  that this wasn’t what I wanted it to be, which was a fun relationship where both of us were super into each other. Third, fourth, and subsequent dates are SO MUCH BETTER than first dates, and I’d be a liar if I said I was nothing but dreading getting out there again.

But I know, in a few weeks days, my attitude will adjust and that’ll change. And, the good news for you, readers, is that we will have some new stories for you about guys verbally abusing us over frozen yogurt or losing their cars on first dates.

Ugh. This story is kinda dull because you behaved in such a well-adjusted, adult way. Are you sure you didn’t do anything crazy with Basketbro T?

Ah, you know me too well! The previous week, I was carelessly performing a little twitter stalking on my phone between episodes of Pretty Little Liars (#bestshowever #mosthashtagsever) and accidentally FAVORITED one of Basketbro T’s tweets! From my personal account, which is basically, MY NAME. About something completely weird and irrelevant to me. I mean, could I be more of a social media butterfingers? Luckily, S reassured me, before revoking my StuCu social media privileges:

What made it more awkward is Basketbro T never called me out on it. I don’t know if this is because he never got a notification (I immediately unfavorited it when I realized my mistake) or because he was so weirded out he just wanted to pretend like it didn’t happen.

Icanhasgif.com

Readers, wherever you are and whenever you read this, I encourage you to take a moment and pour one out for the ladies of StuCu and our utterly awkward and humiliating spring season. 

Think of it as a collective toast to a better summer. For all of us.

This weekend, I reactivated my OKCupid profile. I had temporarily disabled it while dating Basketbro, not because I thought we were BF/GF or anything, but because, since I was not intending to go on any dates and therefore had no reason to answer messages, it was becoming hard to manage. I didn’t check it regularly, and when I did, I had too many messages to sift through, and not enough time to determine who was worth writing a really bizarre temporary rejection/wait till I am single again message to. 

There was a teeny weeny delusional part of me of course, that hoped that minute my pic reappeared on the site, everyone would break into the theme song from Cheers:

However, I felt more like Mr. Kotter on his first day back at Buchanan High School. (The humidity actually makes our hairdos quite similar.)

http://chicagored.wordpress.com/category/uncategorized/

*Actually, I just really listened to the “Cheers” theme song and it’s a bit depressing. Nevermind. I guess there is no good way to be welcomed back into the online dating community.*

I started to sort through messages I received earlier in the month. I replied to a few promising ones, with some adorable jokes explaining my delay in response. However, the majority were duds. Let me share with you some of my favorites:

Huh? To do what with? There is literally nothing about animals in my profile. Of course, my mind went to the darkest place ever, where I immediately decided my profile was attracting, at the very worst, men with bestiality fetishes, and at the very best, furries.

Let’s see if we can find something a little safer, shall we…

Nevermind. Spoke too soon. Men, for the last time, repeat after me: NO HUNTING/GUN/MURDERING JOKES IN MESSAGES. And, if you’re going to insist on being a murderer, at least be a murderer who can spell. At least the faux suicide note you leave in my apartment after you kill me will have some credibility. Haha. (Not haha actually, I just scared myself with my own dark, dark joke).

Now, reactivating your profile after a brief hiatus apparently causes all those people on OKC to think you’re new blood, and results in one getting a lot more messages. I was so excited to sign on the next morning and see 17 new messages in my inbox. That is, UNTIL I READ THEM. Some gems include:

Not only is this a form message, but it’s a weirdly awkward form message. Why?

1) It actively references the feeling of irritation you feel when you open YET another form message

2) There are emoticons (and you KNOW how I feel about emoticons.)

3) It features a businesslike, pestering conclusion demanding I respond in an absurdly prompt manner.

However, at least this guy cared to write something coherent. Check out this love letter from across the Atlantic:

What is happening here? How did this Russian even find me? What is he trying to say? Did one of Putin’s cabinet members mean to write to Angela Merkel to beg a more merciful response to the annexation of the Crimean Peninsula, and accidentally message me on OkCupid instead?

http://roflrazzi.cheezburger.com/news/tag/angela-merkel

I couldn’t have said it better myself, Angela.

Of course, then, there are those creepy messages that I’d love to say I 100% hate to receive, but I only 90% hate them because they are a self esteem boost.

Please know that this came from a 36 year old gentleman who lists Anime and paper dolls as some of his interests. While I won’t be going out with him any time soon ever, at least I can sign off tonight feeling like:

 http://giphy.com/gifs/IoAiRr1nrrJn2

I’m not even sure why I engaged this guy, considering he messaged me “Hey there want to chat?” which is not a message I’m normally willing to respond to. The only way to put less effort into a message is to just write “Hey.” I will not apologize for wanting guys to put in at least a little effort. But I was bored, and very recently dumped. Recent meaning an hour prior. And his profile didn’t have any red-flags, other than this:

I’ve talked before about how that’s a red flag for me. But, in the interest of patching together my recently dumped, wounded self-esteem, and because he seemed fairly normal, I responded.

I couldn’t, you guys. I just couldn’t. That suggestion made me want to crawl out of my skin. And not just because of the Woodpecker. 

This interaction isn’t actually that interesting or funny or generally blog worthy. He was just a guy with poor messaging skills and an affinity for using smiley faces. But the shame spiral that this message contributed to did seem blog worthy. A shame spiral that prompted me to question whether or not I need to see a therapist about this aversion to physical contact of mine. I mean, I’m still horrified by how seemingly mainstream hugging strangers appears to be. But between this message and the fact that, while home in NY for a christening recently, my friend apologized for giving me a hug when I was saying goodbye, I started to panic that there’s something seriously the matter with me. I don’t actually hate hugging the people that I care about, but they seem to think that I do. Which makes me feel like an asshole. Hugging certainly isn’t my first instinct, but sometimes a hug from a loved one is nice. I’ve come to terms with the fact that hugging is something people do when they care about each other. I even occasionally will be the one to initiate a hug! Do you like how I just said that as if it’s something to be super proud of? Like “look at me, on rare occasions I hug the people I love! And I don’t even hate it! God, I’m such a warm, loving person!” 

It occurred to me that I should probably also come to terms with the fact that snuggling/cuddling is something people who are in a romantic relationship tend to engage in.

Typing that sentence made my physically shudder, so clearly I haven’t gotten very far in my journey of acceptance. What if I never come around to it? Who wants to date someone who doles out hugs once every blue moon and is repulsed by the idea of snuggling? 

Oh God, I’m going to die alone.

Source: #wheninlawschool

Quite possibly the most accurate tagline for my romantic endeavors to date…

Irrational fears seem to be a recurring theme here at StuCu, and this guy clearly knew how to jump right into my personal nightmares/psychoses…

Can I just say:

I can’t even address what’s happening on his shoulder just yet, because OMFG, so let’s start with the dude. Look, I know this guy. The bow tie, the shaggy cut, the facial hair, the twee little accessory. I’m guessing he also plays the banjo and worships Ira Glass.

This is what I call a fancy hipster. Not to be confused with a dirty hipster, whose skinny jeans are covered in bike grease. A fancy hipster dresses in a jaunty fashion and has a fetish for inane, ironic objects. He might collect vintage badminton rackets. Or he might…

Now, birds I can actually handle, although neither of my co-bloggers can say the same (as previously noted, L and D’s bird phobias are no joke). You know what I can’t handle?

Creepy dolls. Look at that thing. If that doesn’t scream “I’m going to come to life in the middle of the night and kill you”, I don’t know what does. This phobia probably stems from the fact that my older cousin let me watch a movie called Dolls with him when I was around 7, and I’ve basically been sleeping with one eye open ever since. That also goes for puppets, mannequins, and anything that has the potential to reanimate and come after me. Also, this is not just any doll, it’s a fucking Pee Wee Herman doll. And I’m sorry, HOW TERRIFYING WAS PEE WEE’S PLAYHOUSE???

Seriously, that is some SINISTER. SHIT. I never watched that show as a kid, really because it was slightly before my time, and thank God for that. Luckily, I was born into a golden age of kid’s television instead:

Bottom line, fancy hipster: I’m already worried enough that my actual human dates are going to kill me without you adding a potential evil doll murderer into the mix. Also, fuck Pee Wee. Nickelodeon forever.

Unrelated to the topic of this post, but important nevertheless, I must say that I am very much looking forward to the release of “No Dignity”. 

Now, to the business at hand – regaling you fine readers with my dating tales. Specifically, the guy S alluded to whose nickname involves Japanese food.

I present to you: The Story of Beef Teriyaki Guy.

Shortly after getting dumped, I received a surprisingly decent message from BTG. We seemed to hit it off, and he quickly asked me if I’d like to meet him for coffee. It was hardly a terrible date. He didn’t insult me, attack my face, or do anything else heinous. But I was pretty underwhelmed less than 5 minutes into the date. For one thing, he had a facial tic that reminded me of my friend’s dad. And no one wants to be reminded of someone’s dad when on a date. Also, he did 90% of the talking. When he did ask me a question, he would immediately follow up my response with a related story of his. Never a follow up question for me. He wasn’t even talking about anything all that interesting. Which was a huge bummer, because we talked a lot about traveling, a topic I usually LOVE to talk about. Traveling is one of my favorite ways to spend my money. But he and I have very different ideas about what makes traveling awesome. He’s the kind of guy who travels for the sake of saying he’s been somewhere, rather than to actually enjoy the culture of the place he’s visiting. I just don’t really see the point in that. 

I basically gathered that he loves booking trips with tour companies and only really hits up major tourist attractions. Which is fine, whatever floats your boat, but that’s my least favorite way to travel. He was shocked that on my trip back in January/February, we rented a car and just drove around Europe on our own. That’s my favorite way to travel. Of course I hit up tourist spots, but I like to do lots of other stuff too, and on my own schedule. That other stuff is typically the most interesting part of any trip. He recently went to Dubai, and the only things he talked about were going to the top of the Burj Khalifa and getting a ride in a dune buggy. The world’s tallest building is cool and all, but that’s all you can tell me about?

He also went to China for a couple weeks in college. And he shared precisely 2 things about China: 1) they went to the Great Wall; and 2) he was surprised by how different the food was. The following sentence came out of his mouth: “I didn’t understand – where was the beef teriyaki and the general gao’s chicken? I didn’t even know beef teriyaki was Japanese, not Chinese.”

Source: http://gifrific.com/tom-hanks-saying-really/

Ummmmmm. There are 5,000 things wrong with that sentence. Tom Hanks and I don’t even know where to begin. Aside from the cultural ignorance, he also apparently couldn’t find anything he was willing to try, so he ate McDonalds for the entirety of his trip. Which was made super easy by picture menus, so he could just point to what he wanted. What’s the point of traveling if you’re just going to eat McDonalds? You can do that here. I know all about picky eaters, I grew up with one. But even my sister could have found something she liked in China (hint: RICE). Local food is one of the very best parts of traveling. Unless you’re trying to get a waffle in Belgium, because that was an epic fail not once, but twice. Anywho. I was getting really bored with Beef Teriyaki Guy, and finding it increasingly more difficult to continue being on this date. 

And then came the straw that broke the camel’s back. In one of his rare instances of asking about me, he asked where I had traveled to. As you might know from our About page, S and I spent a semester abroad in college. As it happens, that semester was spent in London. And oh my, did I fall in love with that city. He too had been to London, he shared. At the tail end of a trip he took to Italy, he met his parents in London for a couple of days, he explained. At which point he dropped this bomb:

BTG: I actually wasn’t that impressed with London.

Me internally: -8,254,465,687,345 points. 

Me out loud: Really? That makes me sad. 

This is where I learned about his worst travel habit. He doesn’t do a lot of any research beyond tour companies and the most basic/top tourist attractions. Aside from telling me that it wasn’t until they got home that they realized Stonehenge is only a few hours from London, he said “we saw Big Ben and the London Eye, and then what else really was there to do?”

I’m sorry, WHAT? What the fuck do you mean “what else was there to do?” Is that a serious question?

Source: http://narwhaaal.tumblr.com/post/79189389471

For one thing, Stonehenge is just a bunch of rocks. Granted, I went out there and walked around the rocks, but the trip was coupled with other things in the area (and a tragic story about the demise of a plastic grocery bag). On top of that, the only things you did were see Big Ben and the London Eye, but the thing you’re most bummed about missing is a circle of mysterious rocks in field in the English countryside? With a look of shock on my face, and in a somewhat hysterical, high-pitched voice, I just started word-vomiting various things to do in London. Museums (so many!), parks, theater, markets, food, tea, a fafillion adorable neighborhoods, THE TOWER OF LONDON. Dude, the Tower of London is a tourist attraction gold mine. Also, S, remember our glorious girl-date to the Churchill War Rooms? Best. Date. Ever! Of all the examples I shouted, at the very least the Tower of London should have been on his radar. That list barely scratches the surface, and doesn’t even mention day trips outside the city limits. Because, as Dr. Samuel Johnson so wisely put it, “when a man is tired of London, he is tired of life.” That city is glorious, with an endless array of things to do/see. 

Sidenote: I could shout about the the Tower of London all day every day. It’s full of 900 years of amazing history, and adorable beef-eaters. Executions, ghosts, ravens, the crown jewels. Even the bathrooms are interesting. I’ll stop before I get completely out of control.

Where there had been a simple indifference towards Beef Teriyaki Guy, there was now a little tiny seed of hate. Talking shit about London is a cardinal sin in my book. It’s simply not tolerated. Especially by someone as ignorant as he was about what London has to offer.

I changed the topic before I got all howler monkey in public, but Beef Teriyaki Guy and I had nothing in common. Once I steered the conversation away from traveling, he made a couple bad lawyer jokes*, explained his tech job in excruciating detail, and mentioned at least 5 times that he recently got a new job that came with a huge pay increase. Luckily, I had some errands I had to run (I’m a terrible liar), so I said I had to go. He was bummed to hear that, because he was about to suggest that we go play mini golf or something, since it was so nice outside. Naturally, he had thought the date was going great. I thanked him for the coffee, and hightailed it out of Rhode Island (of course his suggestion had been a coffee shop less than a mile from his place, and not somewhere more centrally located between us). I won’t be seeing BTG again any time soon.

a

* I actually love lawyer jokes. We’re the worst, often times in very comical ways. But I’ve also heard a lot of lawyer jokes, so forgive me when I’m less than humored when your jokes run along the generic and tired lines of: 

What’s the difference between a lawyer and a boxing referee? A boxing referee doesn’t get paid more for a longer fight.

What’s the difference between a jellyfish and a lawyer? One’s a spineless, poisonous blob. The other is a form of sea life. 

What’s the difference between a lawyer and a leech? After you die, a leech stops sucking your blood.

Instead, try something more like these, which are far less generic/offensive, and actually pretty clever and fitting to tell to a defense attorney (which he knew I was):

Source: Stu’s Views

I know it’s not Monday, but it’s the first day back from a long weekend, which means we all desperately need a distraction while we ease back into the work week. After spending a glorious few days frolicking in DC with L, I know I certainly do. Hopefully this does the trick:

So… that happened.

I know this guy’s location says Philadelphia, but the message screams Pennsyltucky to me. For those of you who aren’t aware, the super rural middle section of PA is fondly referred to as “Pennsyltucky” by those of us who still have all of our teeth.

Source: www.philly.com

Portmanteaus for the win.

So when this dude messaged me, dropping all kinds of piss poor grammar while referencing Walmart, trailers, and giving birth on Greyhound buses, that’s the first thing that came to mind. If you watch Orange is the New Black (and if you don’t, seriously get on that) you may recall that there’s a…charming character who’s been given this very nickname:

Sources: maxwellsdemoniac.wordpress.com;rebloggy.com

Now obviously, it’s possible that this message was a (terribly misguided) joke and this guy was trying, in a really bizarre, elaborate, gross way, to be funny. The fact that we are a NINETY ONE PERCENT MATCH (wtf/fml) suggests that this might be the case. I clicked on his profile for additional evidence (spoiler alert: his username contains both the number 69 and the word ‘panties’). Here’s what I found:

Actually the first thing I noticed about you, Pennsyltucky, was the fact that you’re borderline illiterate, but that’s just me. The point is, if this is a joke, it’s really stupid and really unfunny. And I’m not sure what the endgame is. Am I supposed to be charmed by this creepy harassment? Also, am I supposed to know what a “rodeo buffet” is? I’m from New Jersey, Pennsyltucky, so the closest I’ve ever come to attending a rodeo is:

Also, can we talk about the use of “love”, “princess”, “sexy”, and lest we forget, “babycakes”? No, Pennsyltucky (and all men everywhere). A thousand times no. Forgetting how utterly insane the rest of the message is, I’m not sure why guys think it’s okay to drop overly familiar terms of endearment on women they don’t even know. Not only is it misogynistic and insulting, it’s also downright creepy (#yesallwomen).

Then again, I suppose it’s kind of pointless to fixate on being called “babycakes” by a complete stranger when he also described me “popping out a kidlet” in the same message. I’m over you, Pennsyltucky. And so is Regina George.

Source: beautyndabrains.blogspot.com

In case you haven’t noticed, the ladies of StuCu blog are pop culture DEVOTEES, especially when it comes to a good rom com, and especially especially when it comes to a good 80s or 90s rom com. Up to a year and a half ago, I formed my ideas of what dates looked like largely from TV or movies.  When I actually entered the dating world, I realized that, for better or for worse, some of those scenes were realistic, and some of them were as far from reality as one can get, which, much to the delight of my friends, left me shouting things at the TV like, “OH PULEEZE! GIVE ME A BREAK!”

So for your viewing pleasure this weekend, I bring you:

http://giphy.com/gifs/k7EfYv6OHGDSM

L’s realness analysis of some of our generation’s most treasured films. Realness rankings are as follows:

Not real at all-REALLY??

Real-ish-REAL

So real I’m getting PTSD from watching: REALNESS

1. Fever Pitch: If you haven’t seen it, go ahead and watch the trailer.

Now here’s what you need to know: that cute little scene at the beginning of the trailer, where they are exchanging witty banter, walking through the park on a crisp, winter day, that scene, is proceeded by a first date scene, where Ben goes to pick up Lindsay at her apartment, finds her sick to her stomach, and instead of leaving, spends all night cleaning up her vomit. 

REALNESS RANKING: REALLY??

Look, while there is no denying that Jimmy Fallon is a gentleman (I mean, have you seen him lip sync??), the truth is that no man, even him, would stick around to do that in real life. And no woman would let a near stranger into her home when she was feeling like hell and just wanted to spend the night with her toilet, sipping flat ginger ale. 

What would have been more realistic? She would have sent a text and cancelled, and he would never have ended up at her apartment in the first place. Best case scenario, they reschedule. Worst (and more likely) case scenario: they exchange a series of meaningless text exchanges and then someone disappears. 

2. Clueless: God bless Amy Heckerling for actually being the voice of our generation. Remember when Cher invites Christian over for a date at her house and all he wants to do is watch Tony Curtis movies (because he’s a really great actor)?

REALNESS RANKING: REAL

There are many elements of reality here:

• Spending your post-date hours wondering “what is wrong with me?” in response to some guy’s behavior that actually has nothing to do with you? CHECK.
• Obsessing about what happened to your friends? CHECK.
• Finding out that you are dating a gay guy? I mean, maybe this only happens to me. But still…CHECK.

Let’s also take a minute to point out how much that Murray/Dionne scene on the freeway reminds me of my high school boyfriend teaching me to drive (if you replace the convertible with a maroon Buick Oldsmobile that only has one working door).

3. Bright Jones Diary: I wish I was talking about Bridget’s first date with Mark Darcy, but they never really have a first real date, unless you count the birthday dinner after the Eleanor Heany and Kaffir Aghani interview. But I’m not. I’m talking about her first date with that alcoholic, workaholic, sexaholic, commitment-phobic, peeping tom, megalomaniac, emotional fuckwit pervert, Daniel Cleaver.

REALNESS RANKING: REALNESS

Let’s review the story line, shall we? Bridget attends a party where she manages to feel like both a social outcast and a professional failure, leaving her self-esteem in shambles.

She gets drunk, and agrees to an impromptu date with that scoundrel Daniel Cleaver, where he basically sexually harasses her and insults her intelligence the whole time. They go back to her apartment, and she sleeps with him anyway. (Sadly, I can’t embed a link of this into the post, so you’ll have to watch her further humiliation here: http://www.miramax.com/watch?v=5seXBiYjpp5frUg4VgjMwQCo6dnnNGyX

They proceed to have an ill-advised fling that ends poorly.

Oh, Bridget, this is why billions of people paid money to read your diary. We feel you, girl. Cause we’ve all been there.

I refuse to end this blog post on a depressing note though. It’s the freaking weekend, it’s soon to be June, the flowers are in bloom, other obligatory pleasantries, blah blah blah. The point is, at the end of the day, Bridget gets Mark Darcy, who is delicious.

http://wifflegif.com/gifs/449622-bridget-joness-diary-just-the-way-you-are-gif

REALNESS LESSON: We all deserve someone who likes us, just as we are. And he’s out there.*

*He may not look like Colin Firth and sound like a top human rights barrister though, so do keep an open mind.

Got any TV/movie date scenes that shaped your (possibly misguided) impression of romance? Leave it in the comments readers!

I’m not sure why, but my Okc messages seem to be getting more…involved. In other words, random as shit. The pendulum has apparently swung from the standard one word “hi”, “hey”, and “sup” right on over to the to the other extreme. First it was last week’s white trash soliloquy, and now this:

First of all:

Could we cool it with the caps lock, sir? Also, don’t shout/type at me to “focus”. I’m already reading your message, you lunatic, so please take it the fuck down a notch and maybe lay off the Adderall next time. 

Second, I was actually online this past Saturday night because I was at a get together with some friends and we were talking about the Tinder-esque “locals” feature on Okc. My married friends, bless their happily-in-love-and-therefore-naive-to-the-h0rrors-of-being-single hearts, wanted to know more about it, so I whipped my phone out and let them swipe away. I realize that this weirdo had no way of knowing that that’s why I was online, but I just want to establish for the record that I wasn’t pathetically trolling for dudes on a Saturday night (at least not on this particular Saturday night).

Third, that little “701,265 hours” line sounds awfully familiar…

Fourth, a “relaxing respite” at the Art Museum steps at 2 am sounds like a one way ticket to Murdersville, population: me. Also, everyone knows that you don’t go to the Art Museum steps to relax; you go to kick ass/be swarmed by a flash mob of small children:

Anyway, I’m thinking you can guess what my thoughts were on this “proposition”:

Source: http://you-got-corn-x.tumblr.com/page/252

Let’s move on, shall we? I realize that my recent contributions to the blog have consisted exclusively of the following:

• bad messages
• sob stories involving my ex

but I just want you all to know that I’ve decided to officially get back out there in June. I’m honestly kind of dreading it, and by “kind of” I mean I cried on the phone with L last night after being active on Okcupid for exactly one day. Dating is hard, man. So. Hard. And exhausting. And depressing. And it’s been two solid years of this shit. To be fair, I know plenty of people who have been been in the game for much longer, both in real life and in fiction:

but I also know people who have never had to do it in their lives, and I’m really feeling the jealousy and injustice of that fact right now. Lucky motherfuckers.

Anyway, I can’t promise that I’ll go out with someone right away, because yesterday’s cursory glance onto Okc has confirmed that the dating landscape is just as soul crushingly bleak as ever. I am definitely planning on contacting the Good Message Unicorn from last month, but knowing my luck he’s proooobably engaged by now. Either way, I promise to keep you all posted on my (lack of) progress.

Meanwhile, while I’ve been getting my sea legs back/being a serious Negative Nancy, my co-bloggers have been busy going on actual dates with actual men. Stay tuned for some first date tales later in the week!

Source: http://www.zap2it.com/blogs/happy_birthday_aziz_ansari_treat_yourself_to_some_tom_haverford_gifs-2014-02

Readers, I hope you picked up on my efforts to rhyme in the title. Iggy Azelea may have the market cornered on Fancy, but I’m still hoping to write my own rap, to the same beat, entitled: Clever.

But I digress. S promised you some date stories, and a date story from me you shall get. As I mentioned in a previous post, I had abandoned the good ole OKC account while I was dating Basketbro T. Of course, during the relatively short period of time  that passed between not checking my profile and then disabling it entirely,  I got some a few very decent messages from attractive and interesting seeming guys. As we know, good messages from cute guys on the internet do not come often (see: S’s explanation of Good Message Unicorn for a full treatise on the rarity of such occurrences). So, when I reactivated my account a few weeks ago, I messaged those guys back, knowing full well that it was unlikely I’d get a response since significant time had passed.

And I was mostly right. I only heard back from one of these unicorns. We’re gonna call this guy “S the Third” because he was the third guy I dated with the same first name that obviously, started with the letter S. (If you fancy yourself a sleuth and want to try and guess the name–WHICH IS ACTUALLY NOT THAT COMMON–please see the other posts  re: his predecessors, S1 and S2). Anyway, I won’t spend a ton of time describing S the Third, because he was a pretty typical DC prospect. Grew up in the DC suburbs, became a lawyer, major hobbies included traveling, Netflixing, and following DC area sports.

http://isthiswhyimstillsingle.wordpress.com/

I know, I know, not the most interesting dude, but he was attractive and outgoing, and I am still a bit in rebound mode thanks to Basketbro.

The most important thing for you to know about S the Third happened on our first date. He and I met at a bar near my office that also happens to have board games. (Please know, I’ve been to this bar on dates with so many different men that, at this point, I feel compelled to slip the bartender a 20 just so he doesn’t shout, “You again?” or, “who is the new guy?” or accuse me of running a board game-themed escort service. Though, on second thought, a board game-themed escort service actually sounds like a brilliant idea. I could call it Connect Four Love. Or Battlestrip. The possibilities are endless!)

Anyway, S the Third and I met on a Wednesday night for Connect Four, Boggle, and flirty, competitive banter that involved wagering drinks on the outcomes of various games. We were having fun, which means we played a lot of games, which means we were racking up rounds of drinks.  I won’t even insult your intelligence by telling you the obvious consequence of these drinks, save to say at this point I am gonna go ahead and call “Buzzed not drunk,” the 2014 dating resolution equivalent of the Munich Agreement. 

http://isthiswhyimstillsingle.wordpress.com/

So when S the Third proposed sitting down for a pizza dinner at 10 pm, I was 100% in, even though I had to work in the morning. After splitting I devoured a sausage and pepperoni pie, I was adequately sated but thoroughly exhausted. It was almost 11:30, and all I could think about was getting into my PJs and reading in bed. (God, I’ve never felt older than I did when I reread the previous sentence. Thirty, here I come).

S the Third wanted to keep our date going, but was understanding when I insisted on going home. I hailed a cab, which pulled up next to me. I turned to S the Third and gave him a standard first date goodbye:  a hug and a thank you for drinks, dinner, etc.  But when I pulled away, and put my hand on the cab door to open it,  S the Third grabbed me and went in for a full on make out session! And my reaction was something like this…

http://giphy.com/gifs/MH7QJh2JSWV4Q

The thing is, I had a good time. And S the Third was cute. So I wasn’t opposed to the first date kiss, in theory. But, there were several factors that made this kiss completely terrifying for me:

• I hate PDA. And, while I know that a public first date kiss is inevitable unless you happen to be in someone’s car or house, I would prefer it wouldn’t happen on a busy street corner, with a focused audience that included one slightly impatient, middle aged Indian man who was driving my cab.
• I am also really cheap frugal.  Those who know me well know that it was already enough sacrifice that I was taking  a cab  home rather than walking or taking the bus. So all my beer-addled brain could think about as this guy was running his hands through my hair and passionately kissing me, was, “Did the cabbie start the meter yet? How much do they charge per standing minute again? I need to get in this cab and get moving!!”

I must have confined my somewhat illogical panics to my head though, because  S the Third was not fazed. He followed up on our date by asking me out again, and we went out a couple more times before I realized, unfortunately, that, in the tradition of the other “S”s that came before him, that he kind of bored me and this would not be more to me than a fun fling.  But I thank him wholeheartedly, because after the Basketbro breakup, I needed to be flung a bit.

Date Rating: 7/10. I’d give the above described first date a strong score. It involved pizza, beer, and board games, and S the Third was good company. I just wish he’d have reigned it in a little when it came to the good night kiss. The make out cost me a whole 66 cents in cab fare.

You guys. I am fired up today. And not in a good way. So fired up, in fact, that the post I was originally going to put up today is on the back-burner. Instead, I’m treating you to a hastily written, rage filled post.

Last week, I messaged a guy on OKC. His name is Frank. I’m not even going to give him a nickname. Because as it turns out, he’s an asshole. And assholes deserve to be called out. So Frank from Woonsocket, Rhode Island, I’ve got 5 fingers, and the 3rd one is for you. In other words:

Source: quickmeme.com

Let’s backtrack, shall we. We hit it off pretty quickly (as much as you can online), and planned a date for last Sunday. He chatted me up all week last week. Sunday morning he confirmed our date. And then an hour later texted me to cancel.

A bummer, but not really a big deal. Shit that’s totally out of our control happens sometimes (I assumed it was totally out of his control, but I now assume the opposite). And, honestly, though I was bummed, I was also secretly excited to suddenly have no plans. I lived. it. UP. on Sunday (i.e. took a nap, ate some leftover cake from my brother’s graduation party, and binge watched Orange is the New Black). 

Monday morning, as promised, he texted me. But it was a very short conversation. I thought something might be up, so later that day I just straight up asked him if he wanted to reschedule our date.

I was still a little suspicious, but he claimed he wanted to reschedule. And then he followed that up by texting me yesterday morning, and again later in the afternoon. But he still hadn’t actually made any sort of effort to reschedule (clearly a sign, but I took him at his word so I ignored this sign). I took matters into my own hands, because despite this being vaguely annoying, I was excited about going out on a date with him. Last night I proposed a date idea, and told him I was free tonight and tomorrow night. He responded that my idea sounded great, and we could do it tonight. So we made plans. Again. This was around 10/10:30 last night.

I woke up this morning to find that Frank had texted me the following at 12:16 a.m. 

Ummmmmmmmm.

Shit got serious between 10:30 and 12:16? Really? 

Source: replygif.net

I would wager $100 billion that the reason he canceled on me on Sunday had to do with this girl. And you know what. That’s FINE. I messaged him. So if he was already casually seeing someone else, but wanted to keep his options open, that’s cool. And if, before our first date, things took a serious turn, that’s cool too. These things happen. But he should have just been upfront about it when he canceled on Sunday. Instead of CONFIRMING, then canceling an hour later, then claiming he wanted to reschedule, then actually rescheduling (with some prompting), and then canceling again 2 hours later. Would I have been bummed, because he seemed like a cool dude? Yeah, definitely. But I also would have understood. Instead, he played this stupid game, and wasted my time (and his, but I don’t care about him, and you shouldn’t either).  

What the fuck is the matter with you Frank? That’s not a rhetorical question. I want to know. I want to know why you thought this absurd game was the right way to play this. I want to know why you didn’t take the out when I presented it to you on a golden fucking platter. I want to know why at 10:30 p.m. last night you enthusiastically planned a date, and less than 2 hours later you suddenly remembered that you were seeing someone and it was getting serious. Because that makes no sense, Frank. 

Source: replygif.net

Either it had already gotten serious and you just didn’t have the balls to tell me earlier, or you didn’t actually want to go out on a date with me. But nothing ACTUALLY changed between 10:30 p.m. and 12:16 a.m. Which makes you a lying asshole Frank.

Source: gifrific.com

Further, I do NOT wish you luck, Frank. I hope this girl shits all over you and crushes your stupid, lying heart.

Frank and Beef Teriyaki Guy are giving Rhode Island a bad name. I’m starting to think that, because it’s such a tiny state, the handful of guys I know from Rhode Island are the only good ones. And they’re all taken. I think I’ll be swearing off Rhode Islanders for awhile.

*sorry about all the swearing. Not really, but I feel like I should probably apologize. So here’s my half-hearted apology.

Since my dreaded triumphant return to the online dating scene, I’ve been thinking about all the different services we’ve tried here at Stucu. Here’s a quick rundown:

• Okcupid
• Match.com
• JDate
• Plenty of Fish
• HowAboutWe
• Tinder
• Grouper
• Coffee Meets Bagel

Yeesh, that is not a short list. And yet here we are, still painfully single. Speaking of being painfully single, you may have noticed one glaring omission…

Ugggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

I’m just going to say it: I HATE eHarmony. True, I’ve never actually used it, but it has always seemed so ridiculous/lame/creepy to me. Also, sorry to get all soapbox-ra-ra-social-justice on our dating blog, but it’s worth noting that eHarmony has a history of discriminating against same sex couples, plus their annoying as fuck elderly founder/spokesperson is an outspoken hardcore Christian. Not that there’s anything wrong with hardcore Christians…

Source: mrwgifs.com

…it’s just that I am not one of them. I’ve heard tales of the blatantly religious overtones of the site’s matchmaking process, and I don’t like the idea of some company surreptitiously pushing their views on people who are just trying to get a date. If I wanted religious-based matchmaking, I’d mosey on over to a religious-based online dating site like Christian Mingle or L’s favorite, JDate.

Also. Completely forgetting his politics, the eHarmony spokesperson freaks. me. out.

Source: www.harmony-in-love.com

I’m sorry, Dr. Neil Clark Warren, but I’m not currently looking to put a creepy old guy in charge of my love life.

Source: maeameme.org

I know I’m being ridiculous. I know I shouldn’t write off a dating service I’ve never tried because their commercials feature a pushy religious senior citizen and an overplayed Natalie Cole song. More importantly, I’m actually friends with a couple who met on eHarmony. And by “met” I mean I attended their wedding last October. 

Despite this undeniable empirical evidence of the E’s legitimacy, every time someone suggests I join, my answer goes something like this:

“Yeahhhhh, uhhh,I’ve thought about it, but I’m saving it for if (let’s face it, when) I’m a bit older and still single. I’ve heard it’s a more…mature crowd, and that the people on there are much more serious about getting engaged like, yesterday. So I’ll probably try it eventually, just not…now.”

Translation: I hate eHarmony. I don’t want to do it. Please leave me alone.

The biggest reason why I resist this (almost always) unsolicited advice is that it rarely comes from single people. And I’m sorry, if you’re not a veteran of online dating, you simply have no idea what a shit show it is. But then a few weeks ago, one of my single guy friends whose opinion I totally value was telling us about his recent run of good dates, and the big E came up:

Me: What site are you on again? Okcupid?

E: eHarmony.

Me: Oh. Hmmmm. Interesting.

E: You should try it, S.

Me: (internally, thinking about my paintfully single status): Sigh. Maybe he’s right.

Which brings me to this post. When I started writing, it was mostly about my reluctance to join and somewhat irrational hatred of Dr. NCW. But then I tried to poke around and do some preliminary research to see what the site was like and, well, I got bamboozled. Before I even knew what was happening, I was filling out a 9 hour long personality profile analysis thing and signing up to “try it for free”.

Source:kwieser.tumblr.com

Dr. Warren, you are one tricky motherfucker.

“Try it for free” is a favorite tactic among paid dating sites: they let you sign up, fill out a little profile, answer some questions, and cruise for dudes, but the minute you try to do anything real like send a message or even look at someone’s pictures, you’re directed to hand over your credit card info. This was fine with me for once because I didn’t actually want to use their stupid site, I just wanted to see what the infamously involved personality profiling is like and rip it to shreds on our blog.

I’ve also heard that eHarmony at one time rejected a certain number of people after they went through all their insane questioning. As in, these clowns literally say “thanks for trying to pay us money but you’ll have to take your unlovable single self elsewhere, because we don’t want anything to do with you.”

I’m telling you, these people are the WORST.

I Googled researched this policy to determine whether it’s still in place, but my search was inconclusive, so I half expected to waste 20 minutes of my life on a site I already hated and then be told I wasn’t wanted by them. Just another day in the life of a single girl, AMIRITE, LADIES? Anyway, despite my MANY misgivings and against my better judgment, I signed up and sat through their long ass questioning process. Here’s a sample question:

For those who are wondering, there were a fair number of…faith based questions in this thing, mostly to do with how religious/spiritual you are. I screen capped these questions for your viewing pleasure, but now I can’t find where I saved them so you’ll have to take my word for it. After answering ‘not at all’ to basically every religious question, I was fully expecting to get to the boot, but somehow, some way, Dr. NCW deemed me worthy of God and single men’s love, and I was admitted into Club E. Yay.

Source: www.flickr.com

Obviously, they didn’t waste any time before asking me for money:

Jesus. First of all, the 10.95/month plan is totally reasonable, until you realize you’re making a TWO YEAR COMMITMENT. I only commit to where I’m going to live one year at a time, you fuckers. Yes, I get that business-wise it’s smart for them to incentivize people to commit for the long haul. I also get that say, one month is not enough time to give a dating site a chance and meet a good number of people. But how about 3 months? Where’s the 3 month plan, you assholes? Three months is how long it took me to realize I hated Match.com with the burning fire of a thousand suns. So you’re telling me when I inevitably confirm that I do, as predicted, loathe eHarmony, I’m saddled with it for a full calendar year? Yeah…

Source: wifflegif.com

The next logical choice is 6 months. But that shit starts to get pricey. $258 for 6 months on your stupid website? Really? So, what do I get for forking over a plane ticket to somewhere awesome or a day at the spa?

Uhhhh, 1. what in the what is the “Book of You?” Again with the religious overtones. And 2. so what you’re saying eHarmony, is that your basic plan offers the EXACT SAME THINGS as Okcupid. How much is Okcupid again?

Source: gifsoup.com

Also, unsurprisingly, upon fake signing up I was immediately bombarded with senseless emails:

Shut your stupid mouth, eHarmony, and stop patronizing me. I don’t need your permission to be okay with saying that phrase. I’m so good at saying “I hate being single” that I literally started an entire blog so my friends and I could say it multiple times a week. So step off.

Rage aside, I’m at a crossroads, readers. I’m technically signed up, so I’m now getting messages that I can’t read from faceless dudes. This is how they rope you in! I’m telling you, it’s a mindfuck. No matter how awful a site appears to be (and believe me, eHarmony seems awful) there’s that one tiny little part of you that worries one of the guys who messaged you is your future husband, and you’re about to miss out on a lifetime of happiness and hot sex because you were too cheap to fork over $258. 

I need help deciding, dear readers. Tell me what you think I should do. I can’t promise that I’ll actually do it, but I promise to take the results into consideration. Also, if you’ve used the big E yourself, feel free to leave me a comment and tell me what you think of it. Also, if you’re reading this, Dr. Warren, I hate you.

Let’s face it. After a year and a half blogging about online dating, I’ve gone from considering myself a legitimate dating virgin to a semi-pro dater. Extrovert that I am, I love to shout about my self proclaimed expert dating status wherever I go: office party, family dinner, friend of a friend’s party, etc.  

http://www.quickmeme.com/meme/3qjz81

So, a question people ask me (and my cobloggers) pretty frequently is: “Where is the best place in DC/Philly/Boston to go on a first date?” So, today, I bring you this post (first in an LSD series) about my favorite DC date spots. A few disclaimers before I get to it…

1. No one paid us to say anything. If there is one thing consistent about the ladies of Stucu, it’s that we know our own minds. As S put it this weekend when I asked if we had to follow any “rules” during a Painting with a Twist excursion (which was surprisingly fun by the way): “We’ll do what we want. Because that’s how we do.”
2.  This is more of an art than a science. And by art, I mean that in the most Jackson Pollock kind of way. (God! Painting with a Twist just made me so in touch with the artistic community!)  Our picks are based on our own personal preferences and experiences.
3. We’re working on our brevity over here, especially because we realize our readers come from all over the place (not just our three cities), so we’re limiting our top picks to three per city. If you’re interested in hearing even more opinions (because GOD KNOWS you don’t get enough of that on this blog already), shoot us an email and we’d be happy to discuss in more detail.
4. We have a not so secret agenda here (honestly, what could be less secret than a public blog??) to get some great reader suggestions out of this. Please don’t pass up this opportunity to help us sound cool when we suggest potential spots, ever so casually, to our future dates.

So here goes…

DC TOP THREE FIRST DATE SPOTS

1. Beers and banter- Board room (1737 Connecticut Ave NW, Washington, DC 20009)

Remember that place I mentioned a couple of weeks ago? Where I’ve literally been on dates with five different men? Well, that place is called Board room and,  it totally deserves my business (and my date’s business).

First of all, it’s conveniently located near bus and metro (not to mention near my office and across the street from one of my BFF’s apartments). I can get there in 5 minutes from work and 15 minutes from home. And if my date lives in a remotely cool location (aka not the suburbs like SOME PEOPLE), he can get there quickly too.

But way more importantly, combining games and beer is a surefire way to make a possibly probably awkward conversation with a total stranger less awkward. Instead of starting with the usual getting to know you questions (So you’re from Ohio…how long have you lived in Logan Circle…did you watch the USA vs. Ghana game…), you can pretend to be concentrating on sinking your opponent’s Battleship.

Plus, there is the added banter aspect. I’ll admit that my preferred style of flirting is what my colleague calls, “playground flirting,” which means that I spend a lot of time teasing guys and challenging them to strange competitions. So, nothing helps me get my groove on more than making eyes over a Connect Four board. Unless it’s kicking some serious butt (I always do), in Scrabble, all while chiding my date for not researching two-letter words before challenging me to a match. (See, I like trash-talking so much I’m literally about to start flirting with myself on this blog right now).

2. Neighborhood classic-Meridian Pint (11th St NW, Washington, DC 20010)

This place is even closer to my apartment than Board room. Score! But proximity is not the reason this bar gets the #2 spot on this list. (I’m lazy, but not that lazy). It’s not a dive at all, but it’s still just one tiny step below what I’d actually call a restaurant. I’d call it a friendly neighborhood pub, but I don’t associate pubs with very good food, and Meridian Pint’s nachos will knock your socks off. Plus, they have a killer beer list that not only results in drinking some delicious and hard to find things (Victory Dirtwolf, anyone?) but also is an instant conversation starter about beer preferences, a subject I could go on and on about at length. (Though, my expertise is really in shitty  low cost beers. One of the many things on my bucket list is to write my own version of this amazing list. And, btw, HOW DARE YOU INSULT YUENGLING, WILL GORDON OF DEADSPIN. I’M COMING FOR YOU). 

Plus, Meridian Pint has all the seating options you could possibly desire: outside seating for perfect DC days (of which there about 15 per year, and we will not see again until the end of this already humid summer), upstairs tables or bar for intimate conversation, and downstairs bar for some TV-watching and rowdiness. 

3. Cheese and Chocolate-Coco Sala (929 F St NW, Washington, DC 20004)

I know, I know.  I’ve gone on record previously and said I don’t believe in eating anything on first dates. But this place is an exception. Coco Sala’s menu has a heavy focus on chocolate, complimented by lots of delicious dishes involving cheese and, more often than not, bacon.

https://www.distilled.net/blog/bacon-mouthwash-how-to-pull-off-an-april-fools-prank/

I know S, D, and I have all waxed poetic about cheese on the blog before. But don’t think I’ve introduced you to my personal holy trinity: cheese, bacon, and bourbon. And chocolate. And beer. And Wendy’s Spicy Chicken Sandwich. (OK, so not really a trinity at all, but give me a break. I mix up religious references all the time.)The point is, Coco Sala has a delicious menu of small plates that could only be improved by adding a slider that resembled Wendy’s Spicy Chicken Sandwich. Plus, the portions are small and delicate enough that you can try a lot of things without getting full, and without resembling this:

https://www.distilled.net/blog/bacon-mouthwash-how-to-pull-off-an-april-fools-prank/

(I want to retitle that image: L at Shake Shack after a long day).

Coco Sala also has some mad-flattering lighting which I desperately need after a long work day. And, it’s always crowded, but not too crowded, so you can feel like you’re somewhere cool and hip, but still hear your date speak.

That’s it y’all. I decided to wrap this up rather abruptly because even thinking about this place is making me want to defrost some brownies I may or MAY NOT have in my freezer and eat them while watching Orange is the New Black.

So that’s my DC Top Three! Readers, I’d love to hear yours, so don’t be shy; leave it in the comments! And stay tuned for the top three favorites of my Yankee sisters up in Philly and Boston.

I’m sure some of you just read that title and thought wow, the Stucu ladies have gone completely off the rails and are now just casually revealing their dates’ full names on their “anonymous” blog. Next up it’ll be their home addresses and social security #s. I should probably stop reading before they get slapped with a huge lawsuit.

Source: wifflegif.com

For those of you who don’t recognize the name ‘Keith Mars’, let me assure you that it’s NOT my date’s name. It is, however, the name of an infamous dad slash detective on one of the greatest, most underrated teen crime fighting mystery TV shows (that yes, we’ve gushed about before) of our time. That’s right, I’m talking about my homegirl Veronica Mars and her wonderful, hilarious, brilliant private investigator dad, Keith:

So why have I gone on a tangent about a fictional middle aged TV character? Because, readers, last week I went on a first date with a real live P.I.!

Source: www.survivingcollege.com

You guys. Stalking/sleuthing/investigating shit/being nosy is honest to God one of my favorite pastimes. Well, I should say our favorite pastimes. As we’ve mentioned before, we here at Stupid Cupid take our stalking investigative skills VERY seriously. L and I always dream joke about opening up a ladies’ detective agency because we’re so fucking good at getting information. TRUE STORY: L once impersonated a college guidance counselor on the phone in order to pump a girl (who we’d never met but who happened to be dating a friend’s ex) for information on her relationship. AND IT WORKED. I mean:

Source: www.someecards.com

So when this guy contacted me on Okcupid (I’ll be posting an eHarmony update in the next week but as of today I still refuse to give those crazy bastards my money) and a few messages in revealed that he’s a private investigator, I went from mildly interested to:

Source: gifrific.com

Back to the name. Good old Keith garnered this nickname well before I decided to blog about him or frankly, even meet him, for two important reasons:

• He bizarrely shares a name with H, the guy who I dated and was super into last summer and who it took me a while to get over. Obviously I can’t reveal the actual name to you, but trust me, it is NOT a common name. H1 was the first person with that name that I’d ever met, so when Mr. P.I. introduced himself, I kind of maybe thought someone was playing a prank on me. Saying that name in reference to a different person felt so weird that I knew he needed a nickname, and he needed one fast.
• In case you forgot/just stumbled upon this blog, we recently started referring to our dates using nicknames. And when I hear the term ‘private investigator’, a certain balding, badass vigilante of the law hailing from Neptune, California who literally walks through fire to save his only daughter inevitably comes to mind:

After messaging back and forth a handful of times, we set up a date. Truth be told I wasn’t totally excited about Keith, aside from the prospect of interviewing him about his job, cases, busts, whether he carried a fake ID/got to taser people,

Source: www.sheknows.com

and general tricks of the trade. Besides the fact that he was a P.I., here’s what I knew about him going into the date:

• He went to Penn State
• He lives in the suburbs (what is with me and suburban dudes??)

Aaaaand that’s basically it. It should also be noted that this was my first date since my breakup with D two months ago, and my first first date in over six months. Needless to say, I was feeling a bit rusty.

Source: www.tressugar.com

We decided to meet for drinks in my ‘hood. The night of our date arrived, and Keith was running late. Like, a half hour plus late. STRIKE ONE. I mean, I’m kidding (sort of), because I know shit happens, but this seems to be a common theme among suburban guys I go out with: they are all SHOCKED that the traffic into the city is bad. At rush hour. On a notoriously awful two lane highway. I mean, am I missing something? How hard is it to leave yourself an extra 20 minutes figuring that you probably won’t be flying down 76 at 6:30 pm? Especially when you’re the one who set the time of our date? FOOLS.

Anyway, I was already salty about the delay, but I tried to brush off my irritation. Luckily the bar was close enough that I could just hang at my place and not awkwardly loiter or pathetically drink by myself until he arrived.

When we finally did meet, it was a classic case of picture fraud. Keith Mars was…not as cute as his pictures. More importantly, to me, he was not as tall (but as we know, ladies, they pretty much never are). He wasn’t bad looking, it was just a bit of a letdown.

I knew within the first five minutes that I wasn’t into him. He was perfectly nice, and not wholly unattractive, I just felt nothing. Zero interest. Zero attraction. Zero connection. The more he talked, the more I thought:

Source: persephonemagazine.com

(What’s that? I use this GIF in almost every post? I don’t care, I fucking love that creeping octopus. You’re welcome.)

I was doing my best not to pounce on him immediately with my list of 900000 P.I.-related questions. As we exchanged standard small talk, I started to realize something: Keith Mars was kind of a bro.

If you have a chance, check out this excellent comic on bro criteria. Do you see the example at the very top? “Still brags about getting wasted years after college”?

DING DING DING DING DING

God, you guys. Keith Mars would not shut up about how much he and his friends “partied” at school. NEWS FLASH, BROS: everyone partied/drank in college. It’s COLLEGE. This does not make you cool or unique or interesting. In fact, as a 30 year old still telling these stories to strangers, it makes you kind of pathetic.

Thoroughly turned off by my date’s troubling brotastic tendencies, I decided to get to the main event. And I will give Keith credit where credit is due: he answered every single one of my P.I.-related questions (and I asked what some might call an uncomfortable number of questions). He didn’t seem annoyed, not even at the end, by my endless curiosity. If anything, he was bemused by my sheer excitement and joy. I feel weird about revealing specifics because, you know, this dude is a private investigator, and I don’t want to be a dick (HAHAHA get it?) but of course I’ll share some general things I learned:

• His firm works almost exclusively on civil cases, which means entrapment isn’t illegal. According to Keith, you can entrap the shit out of people. He once Catfished a dude on Facebook and posed as a hot girl asking him out in order to get him to show up to a bar. It totally worked.
• He doesn’t carry a gun or a taser, at least that he would admit to me, but if he has to make a house call that could be dicey, he’s usually working with at least one government bureau that will send someone along with him.
• He has a few aliases, but no fake IDs (again, at least that he would admit to me).
• Cell phone fraud is apparently a huge international problem…? And the main case he’s working on. He also does a fair number of insurance fraud, cheating spouse and custody cases.
  
• He sometimes works with Homeland Security as well as the Secret Service. !!!!!!!!!!!!!
• He claims he never does background checks on his dates (I call bullshit, because who wouldn’t), but that he’s done it for friends, and he did it once for his sister’s boyfriend.

Source: awesomegifs.com

Guys, I was in heaven. HEAVEN. I forgot that Keith Mars was a bro. I forgot that he was three inches shorter than he claimed to be and a half hour late. I left out some other really cool details that he shared with me, just because I feel funny putting it on the internet, and also because, well, he’s a P.I., so I wouldn’t put it past homeboy to find this post. He certainly wouldn’t be the first. Luckily I never mentioned that I had a dating blog, so he wouldn’t even know to look, but still.

Finally, after a solid 40 minutes grilling him about his job, I cut myself off. We went back to chatting about normal things, but it wasn’t as interesting. After we finished our second drinks, I was over it and ready to go home. We left and walked a few blocks in the same direction.

“Well this was a lot of fun,” Keith said. “We should do it again sometime.”

I wasn’t about to be like thanks but no thanks right there on the street, so I think I just said a vague “Yeah, it was nice meeting you, thanks for the drinks”. He awkwardly went in for a kiss on the cheek, I wiggled it into a half hug, and fled.

Well readers, to use the LINGO of those of us in the business, this was an open-and-shut-case. We met, we drank, he bro’d, I pumped him for information, and that was that. Except not really, though, because the Law of Dating Inverses held true: predictably, because I wasn’t into him, Keith Mars continued to text me after our date. I’ve been polite but brief, and I’m just waiting for him to actually ask me out again so I can say thanks, but no thanks, Mr. Mars. To quote a great:

Source: thoughtcatalog.com

Date Rating: 5/10. I was so enthralled by the P.I. stuff I’m seriously considering a career change, but the rest of the date was mediocre. And regarding the bro thing:

Source: www.tvatemybaby.com

Happy Independence Week (American) readers!! I have a 3 day week this week, which is glorious, but also means I have a ton to get done in the next few days, so that I can properly enjoy my long weekend lakeside. So this’ll be a short Message Monday.

Last Monday, my “bagel” of the day and I matched. Meaning, we had both liked each other, and now had a message chat room open through the app. Typically, Coffee Meets Bagel opens the chat room and provides a ice breaker question to get the conversation off to a more interesting start than “Hey.” This was no exception, and the app asked us “What would you rather be doing right this second?” I was busy with something at work, so I didn’t reply right away. 2 hours later, my bagel responded:

Well. That’s a huge debbie downer. Nothing says “hey, I like you and we should get to know each other” like unemployment.

I mean, it’s probably a very accurate answer to the question asked, and kudos to him for his honesty, I guess, but couldn’t he just say something like “spending the day at the beach.” I suppose it’s possible that, in his current predicament, spending the day at the beach was actually precisely what he was doing, so wasn’t a viable answer. But come up with something positive to say. Or at least some innocuous activity. Because, although I won’t immediately judge/fault someone for being unemployed, I’d like any potential relationship to at least start off in a positive place. And that answer is just depressing.

Happy almost birthday, ‘Murica, and Happy almost long weekend of binge drinking/eating/fireworking, my fellow Americans.  The subject of today’s post is the fair City of Brotherly Love, where a certain important document was drafted years ago mere blocks from where I’m sitting at this very moment.

Anyway, this is Part 2 of our little ‘best of’ series, and in case you missed it, you can catch L’s best DC date spots here. So let’s get to one of my favorite things in the world: opinions!

Source: www.bodylovewellness.com

If a guy asks me out, in an ideal world he picks where we’re going to meet up, at least the first time around. But this is the real world, and in the real world, lazy suburbanites who’ve apparently never heard of Yelp usually text me things like: “so where should we meet up?”  or “I don’t know the city that well, any ideas?” I mean….

Source: soletstalkabout.com

As annoying as this can be, it’s also an opportunity, because there is something to be said for controlling the location of a first date. I used to think that location didn’t matter much, and it’s true, if you hit it off with someone you will probably do that whether the date is in a trendy upscale restaurant or a dive bar that reeks of urine. But I’ve come to believe that there is a bit of a science to this whole thing.

In honor of that (pseudo) science, here are three types of date spots that I like to keep in my back pocket for when I’ve got a clueless suburbanite on my hands, and that I think every single girl should have in her arsenal:

• a fun neighborhood bar with good beer/drinks (and lots of room) for first and second dates
• someplace a little swanky/mysterious/sexy (I couldn’t even type ‘sexy’ without thinking of this–I’m seriously 12:)

• something different than the typical drinks/dinner scene

You may note that I stayed away from actual restaurants on this list because not to be obnoxious, but Philly has a GREAT restaurant scene, so I don’t feel like it’s hard to find a really good place to eat, ever. Anyway, let’s get to this list, shall we?

S’s Top Three Philly Date Spots

1. First date watering hole: Strangelove’s (216 S. 11th Street, Philadelphia, PA 19107–11th Street between Walnut & Locust)

Over the past…wow, 2 years (#old) I’ve actually taken….five? dudes to this bar on a first or second date. That I can remember. It’s highly possible the bartenders and waitstaff have a running pool on when I’ll be in next and with whom. What can I say? It’s my old reliable (even though it’s only been under this name/owner for like a year. Shhhh.)

The beer selection is great if you or your date are into that (I am), but there’s a full bar if you’re not. This place is popular and can get crowded, but there’s a big upstairs bar so you’ll never find yourself awkwardly standing and trying to be witty and charming while simultaneously getting elbowed and sloshing Saison all over yourself. And in case you were worried, it has the GOOP stamp of approval (damn it that smug bitch has good taste). Also, there’s something incredibly fitting about having a first date with a stranger you met online underneath a glowing sign that says “STRANGE LOVE”.

If your date turns out to not be an illiterate sociopath (in which case)…..

and you decide to stay and eat, the food is delicious and inexpensive. Also, the music isn’t blasting so loudly that you can actually HEAR wtf your date is saying. I realize I sound like the most uncool old person that ever lived when I complain about noise levels in bars…

Source: starcrush.com

but sorry, haters, first dates are awkward enough without having to shout ‘What??’ and ‘Huh??’ back and forth with a stranger for an hour.

2. Swanky and sexy: The Ranstead Room (2013 Ranstead St, Philadelphia, PA 19103)

Usually when someone suggests hitting up a speakeasy that 1. is hidden down an alleyway 2. has bartenders that wear twee little vintage get ups 3. is too cool to have a website and 4. may close at a moment’s notice without warning I’m like:

Source: gifmethat.tumblr.com

But I promise you (and Liz Lemon), this is a good one.

I have to give my ex full credit for introducing me to the Ranstead Room, especially since he’s probably reading this post (hey, D). You guys, this place is so fun and so. sexy. Maybe a little much for a first date, but perfect for a second or third. Yes, it’s small, located down a sketchy back street with no sign and yes, there’s almost always a wait, but they’ll take your cell # and call you when a table opens up so you can go around the corner and wait at a bar or grab a bite to eat.

Once you actually enter it feels like Madmen-meets-70s porn set-meets-vampire den, which sounds insane but it fucking works. The drinks are delicious and the atmosphere is perfect for my favorite date activity:

Source: domini-porter.tumblr.com

I’m telling you, RR’s great music, low lighting, vintage paintings of naked ladies on the walls (very non-sleazy/tongue in cheek ) and friendly, non-pretentious bartenders will make you feel hella cool and mysterious, and you will more than likely end up flirting your ass off with whoever is sitting across from you (to varying levels of success, of course, depending on your skill and blood alcohol levels).

Then, when you’ve flirted and bantered to your heart’s content and you inevitably tie a load on from those 4 custom cocktails you just downed, might I suggest…

Source: allaboutnewgirl.tumblr.com

Calm down, you pervs. I was actually going to recommend ordering a snack off the menu of the yummy Mexican restaurant next door. Drunk guacamole, people. DRUNK. GUACAMOLE. Get your priorities straight.

Honestly, forget dates (and the fact that this post includes the word “intercourse”); if you’re from out of town and you visit Philly, check this place out.

3. Nerdy and unique: The Franklin Institute (271 North 21st Street, Philadelphia, PA 19103)

Honorary mention goes to Art After 5, which is definitely a more “grown up” option, but I’ve never actually gone there on a date (only with friends–woooommmmp #painfullysingle) so I felt like it was cheating to put it on this list.

I love a museum date, especially when the weather’s shitty. I like that it’s something interactive to do with your date, there are conversation starters all around you to fill any awkward silences, and if you get ass numbingly bored after an hour you can just peace out and resume discussing whatever low-brow things you normally talk about while still feeling cultured as shit for going.

Source: www.tvguide.com

Philly has some great museums, and if you’re looking purely for art/culture, I have a bunch of arguably better recs for you than this one (also if you’re looking to totally creep your date out, I’ve got a rec for that, too). The Barnes is killer. The Constitution Center is great. But the Franklin Institute is …different. Maybe that’s because it’s technically a kid’s museum. BUT it’s also a combination of nerdy, wacky, juvenile, random and totally kitschy, which I love, and I think it makes for a more fun, playful date (at least early on) than your standard art museum. Also, being able to joke/be playful/not take yourself too seriously is a personality trait that I really value, and this is a good way to spot any know it all snoots who wouldn’t be thrilled to climb through a giant heart with you.

Other reasons why this is a fun date option:

• Planetariums are hella romantic. Just ask Ross and Rachel.

• You’ll seriously LOL at some of the laughably vintage exhibits
• An hour or two among droves of screaming kids, and you will definitely both remember the importance of birth control.
  

Source: degrassi.wikia.com

So there you have it. Philly peeps, what do you think? What are some of your favorite date spots? I realize I basically stuck with the Center City area, but I’m always looking for new places to check out.

Have an awesome holiday weekend, readers. I’ll be spending mine lakeside with my homegirl D while L is sunbathing in Europe. (I know, we hate her, too.) Stay tuned for our Beantown edition of best date spots next week!

I’m going to keep this one short and sweet since some of us are coming off an absolutely perfect long holiday weekend and are clinically depressed about having to return to work/the real world, and this is about all we can handle at the moment:

Source: www.gurl.com

Oh, I’ve been introduced to jellyfish, sir, and frankly, I wish I hadn’t been. I feel the same way about them as poor Monica Gellar.

I’m terrified of those little fuckers. I grew up going to the Jersey shore every summer, and I’d dread the few weeks in August where droves of disgusting discs would descend on the water, and I’d basically spend the entire time in the water doing this…

Source: giphy.com

Also, I don’t mean to sound completely ignorant about non-Western food (looking at you, Beef Teriyaki guy). I’m actually a pretty adventurous eater; I’ll happily try pretty much any type of cuisine from pretty much any part of the world, but I draw the line at bugs and poisonous sea predators. I can’t. I won’t.

To be fair to this message sender, one of Okc’s profile sections does ask you to list your favorite movies, music, shows, books, and food. And I did write that I like lots of different types of food. So I guess this was my bad for thinking that sharing that fact would maybe result in like, a fun date at a Lebanese place, and not someone trying to feed me disgusting, terrifying, stringy little summer ruiners.

I know I’ve complained about generic/one word messages before, and as bizarre as this one was, I can’t deny that it was…unique. So I tried to keep an open mind while I checked out his profile. But yeah. Unsurprisingly, this dude is a liiiiittttttle too…eccentric (translation: fucking weird)…for my taste. I’m sure there’s a single gal out there who would be thrilled to eat poisonous globs with him, but it ain’t me, Mr. Jellyfish. It ain’t me.

Today I’m rounding out our “best of” series (you can check out DC here and Philly here). To recap, we’re providing some of our favorite first date spots in our lovely cities. Up today is the best city of all, Boston. The Charles River is swimmable again, the Big Dig is over, our former mayor is affectionately known as Mumbles Menino, the ducklings get dressed up for every occasion, Boston is one of the best walking cities there is, etc. etc. The only thing keeping Boston from perfection is the baseball team that plays here (but not the ballpark, I love Fenway). Anway, let’s get to it.

D’s TOP THREE BOSTON DATE SPOTS

1) Granary Tavern (170 Milk Street, Boston, MA 02109 – Financial District)

Obviously, a good bar is a standard go-to for a first date. It’s a public place, it doesn’t have a time commitment, alcohol helps with nerves, etc. If it’s going well you might end up a little drunk and almost miss the last train home because you’ve totally lost track of time (this happened to me a few weeks back, on what quickly became my best first date ever). If the date is a dud, you’re out as quickly as you can down your drink.

Source: Huffington Post

This kid is going to be a CHAMP when he gets to college. Anywho, Boston is certainly not lacking in bar options, with a pretty even spread of shitty, mediocre, and great. I actually LOVE dive bars, but since my favorite one closed years ago (RIP Our House West), and people tend to have strong opinions about dive bars, I avoid them on the first date. Like S, I like a casual place that’s not too loud, and has a decent menu if the date is going well. I also like a bar that isn’t full of 22 year old assholes, a population that Boston has in spades. We are a young city full of colleges. Which was GREAT when I was going to college here (Go BU!), but now that I’m less than a month from 30, I’m over those shenanigans. So, that eliminates every single bar in Faneuil Hall, and virtually all of Allston/Brighton.

But we’re not talking about the worst of here today, we’re talking about the best. So I present to you: Granary Tavern. It’s in the financial district, so it’s easily accessible by T. But it’s also on the fringe of the Financial District, right on the Rose Kennedy Greenway, so there’s lots of other stuff around in the evening. It’s got a good selection of beer on tap, as well as wine and other cocktails. They’ve got a good menu, including a late night menu. And they’ve got a decent amount of space. Also, they have outdoor seating in good weather, that faces out to the greenway. 

Who wouldn’t want to sit out there with a cold drink and a cute guy? I love dining and imbibing al fresco. 

I also love Eastern Standard in Kenmore Square. They have insanely delicious cocktails. But it’s much trendier and gets really crowded, eliminating it from contention as my favorite. But it’s a decent back up on the right night/with the right date.

2) Sacco’s Bowl Haven (45 Day Street, Somerville, MA 02144 – Davis Square)

I also love a good activity date. Sitting across from a stranger drinking a beer can be super awkward. It’s nice to have a distraction, something that engages you both. And for that, I love me some bowling. Perhaps it’s the fact that I grew up in a town where bowling and woods parties were basically all we had to entertain ourselves. Perhaps it’s my intensely competitive attitude (my desire to win, at everything, while likely a character flaw, is also such a huge part of my personality that it’s one of the few parts of my crazy that I put on full display from the beginning to weed out the people who don’t find it charming). Almost definitely, a part of it is that my butt looks slammin’ in jeans, and bowling provides a lot of opportunity to put that on display. Besides, New England has the ever-charming and quirky candlepin bowling.

It seems like it might be easier, but it’s not. Here’s a delightfully 80′s tutorial that I came across recently while trying to brush up on my skills before a bowling date, as I had talked a LOT of trash leading up to the date (despite the fact that I’m a mediocre bowler, at best). 

There are a couple of places to bowl in Boston, but my favorite by far is Sacco’s Bowl Haven in my old ‘hood of Davis Square in Somerville. Right on the red line, Sacco’s is also easily accessible by T. They only have candlepin, so if you’re not a New England bowling purist, you’re better off going to Jillian’s or Boston Bowl. In addition to candlepin, Sacco’s has alcohol and delicious flatbread pizza. I dare you to find something wrong with the combination of beer, pizza, bowling, and healthy competition. Although they keep a certain number of lanes open for walk-ins, Sacco’s gets crowded fast, so midweek is best for this. Sacco’s will take your number and call you when a lane opens up, so if there is a wait and the bar is crowded, head over to Red Bones (or any one of the numerous other places in Davis) for a beer and/or food. 

3) Castle Island (at the end of William J. Day Blvd. in South Boston)

Since it’s summer, and summer in Boston is lovely (humid as fuck, a specialty of the eastern seaboard, but all the colleges are out and there’s an abundance of parks and waterfront to explore), I’m rounding out my fave first date spots with an outdoor activity. A little vitamin D, a little physical activity, and endless options for ways to continue the date if things are going well. I’m partial to Castle Island for this.  

It’s not actually an island, so if the date is a dud you’re not actually marooned with the fool. It’s got great views of Boston Harbor and the harbor islands, as well as the city skyline (especially if you walk out on the causeway in Pleasure Bay (I hate that name, so much, but I digress)). They open up Fort Independence in the summer, and who doesn’t love exploring a good fort? A nice sea breeze is always refreshing. If the guy is in fact a dud, you can call it a day after one lap around the fort, and at least you got some exercise! If it’s going well and you get hungry, Sullivan’s is right there with seafood, burgers, and ice cream (in case you weren’t sure you were in South Boston, that name should give it away). There’s no bar at Sullivan’s, but a quick walk into South Boston will give you plenty of options if you want to cancel out all that strenuous walking with a cold one.

So there you have it – LSD’s Best Date Spots in our respective cities. Thanks for tuning in while we share our recs! Next week we’ll be back to our regularly scheduled programming of dishing about boys, insane messages, and memorable dates (both good and bad), because those things just keep on coming.

P.S. Boston peeps, did I miss any gems you want to share? I’m all ears in the comment section!

Ladies and gentlemen, we have our first Message Monday repeat offender. Remember this clown?

Yeahhhh…

At first I thought, no. It can’t be the same guy.

Source: satireknight.wikispaces.com

It turns out this fool deleted his original profile and promptly created an almost identical new username (by removing the number 69 and adding the word ‘fart’. I wish. I. was. kidding.) So yes, this message does appear to be from our dear old friend Pennsyltucky.

Well, at least he switched it up! Last time it was Walmarts and Greyhound buses in everyone’s (least) favorite middle part of PA. Now we appear to be in…the 20s?

I can’t believe I’m saying this, but this message is actually an upgrade #mylifeissad. I mean, we’ve established that I enjoy a good speakeasy, the word ‘tomfoolery’ is used, and there’s not even a mention of me “popping out a kidlet on the bus”. Someone clearly spent the month of May in charm school! The question is, did this guy genuinely forget that he messaged me weeks beforehand with an equally outlandish date scenario? Or is his strategy literally to pick a new setting/era every few weeks and fire off some ridiculous nonsense until I respond? Is this a messaging war of attrition?

Only time will tell, readers. Since sending that message, Pennsyltucky has continued his pattern and deleted his current profile, so if I receive a new message set in the wild west from a username including the words ‘big tool 4 u’…

Source: whydoionlinedate.tumblr.com

…you’ll be the first to know.