Don't Mince Words

Dating is an exhausting exercise, but I support my friends as they venture out there. What is more tiring is when they have a bad experience and state, “I thought this kind of crap only happened to you, Marna.”

Once again, I have to repeat IT’S BAD ALL OVER.

Marci was approached online by a hospital social worker that lives east of New Haven, Conn. Marci is on the upper east side of Manhattan. They spent a week talking on the phone and Social Worker decided to take the train down and take her out for the day and then they’d have dinner. Seemed like an innocent proposition and a typical New York weekend: walk around/eat.

He arrived nervous and it never stopped. He directed his behavior into a few verbal assaults, which finally sent Marci over the edge. She stopped the date and asked him what his problem was. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a pill bottle and said, “I didn’t take my Xanax this morning.”

She asked him to take his meds. He then revealed he has had depression since birth, severe anxiety, OCD, and a sleeping disorder. He also hasn’t worked in a year. Marci told him she could almost tolerate the medical disorders, but lying about his employment was a deal breaker.

“But I knew if I told you, you wouldn’t go out with me,” he said.

His send off was classic. “All those nights we talked on the phone were long distance calls for me and I can’t afford it. Do you think you could call me? Will you call me?” he asked.

Instead, Marci emailed me and I had a telephonic intervention with her while he was on a train north. She’s done with dating, she says. “This should have been your date. You would have had fabulous new, insane material,” Marci added.

Well, Marci, I haven’t had a date in more than a month. Thanks for reminding me what’s out there. This blog’s for you.

I’m starting to become the conduit for bad date stories. I have enough of my own to go around, but it is disheartening to wonder if anyone in their 30s is successful in dating.

April has been a parade of fools. My one girlfriend had to hit the eject button after her boyfriend stated he couldn’t afford to call her while he was on location. Apparently this six-figure man didn’t feel she ranked cell toll charges. Another friend had to pass when she found out the guy she was dating lived with his healthy mother. A friend in New York is writing a piece for a news magazine on portfolio dating and how the trend is to date multiple people to feel like you have one whole relationship. One is hard enough, but more than one? Please, I couldn’t take it.

While my eyes are wide open, I have no tolerance for crap. This feeling was accentuated this past weekend when I finally saw Todd Solondz’ Happiness. The opening sequence with Jon Lovitz is classic, but the line I took away was “I’m champagne and you are shit.” It prompted me to call the guy I had gone out with a few times and let him know is cancellations without notice were annoying and I was interested in seeing someone more available. As a wise Greek woman told me, “Date me right or I’ll fuck you up.”

N-E-X-T.

How a year of dating in Los Angeles made me appreciate books and batteries

My 2004 resolution challenge was dating bulimia – I would date as much as possible until I got sick. I feasted on the men of Los Angeles while Kathleen, a friend in New York, did the same. Our goal was to get out there and meet people and not focus on our careers. We began this social endeavor with low expectations. Shortly thereafter, we were ready to jam our fingers down our throats.

If I could make it to the gym four to five days a week, I decided I could tolerate one date a week. I let everyone know I was available. I trolled the internet. I exercised options at the gym. I loitered in the produce aisle. I wanted to just get out and have fun with no strings attached. My resume and professional interviewing skills were built up; however, my dating dossier and related opposite sex conversational skills were sorely lacking. I was going for quantity, not quality this year.

I managed to go out with 22 men ranging in age from 28 to 48. I almost hit my frequency goal as well with dates 48 out of 52 weeks (holidays and exhaustion permitted me to take some time off). My high volume yielded some great stories – from the emotionally unavailable comic to the offshore-educated doctor. My counterpart in New York didn’t match my volume, but she did manage to run into the same “types.”

Oddball – This guy is usually quirky, strange, eccentric, and probably a Trekkie. They are nice, but you wonder what’s in their basement. Chris was a 45-year-old tobacco chewing dot com guy that lost it all in the market down turn. His change of life career became day acting and one of his more notable roles was as an extra in Seabiscuit.

Successful but emotionally unavailable – They have it all except a desire to have a healthy relationship and healthy for them usually means sex on the first date. I met several guys in this category. John was a 40-year-old salesman that told me I’d make the perfect wife, if that was what he was looking for. He’s keeping me at the top if his list until he’s ready.

Rockyfella – The unemployed or cheap guy is everywhere. If you are going to date, you need to have the resources. One of my dates “accidentally” had no cash when the check came and he realized he left his credit cards at home. This 48-year-old man told me I could pass for 29 with my curls. That pre-check compliment didn’t earn him a second date.

Brainiacs – Smart is sexy, but when you need to bring encyclopedias on a date, smart can be boring. I went out with a university professor that was so intelligent, I couldn’t keep up. He couldn’t talk about anything nonacademic. We did get close when he admitted he used to have a backgammon addiction.

Hog tied – With this ring, I thee cheat. The married guys are sneaky. They pose as separated, divorced, and single, but what they really are is bored, married guys. One sucked me into his web then admitted he was married, but was looking for a monogamous lover while he kept his wife on the side.

Nice guys – They are everywhere, but hopefully they don’t finish last. Sometimes they spend so much time being nice that they don’t allow for chemistry to develop. Dave, a 46-year-old museum archivist, was a nice guy and we had good conversation, but no connection. He did tell me I was a nice lady.

Musicians – Los Angeles, like New York, is a creative town filled with musicians. I was due to date one on this coast. Brett was a bass player. The last bass player I dated left me to join the circus band. I said I’d never date a musician again, but I thought I’d give Brett a shot. Music was his mistress as well and his schedule didn’t permit regular dating.

Reruns –Reruns are men you’ve dated before, said you’d never do it again, and you relapse. Andy received his second shot in the fall. We originally went out in the spring, but had to break up because he wasn’t ready for such a “real” relationship. He was renewed as a rerun with a double-secret probation clause. He didn’t last 30 days before it ended with an emotional breakdown grand finale several days later. Show cancelled.

Jocks – this good time guy is always available for short term relationships. They are gamey, fun, and oftentimes dumb. Mike, a 40-year-old fireman and tri-athlete, met me for putt-putt golf on our first date. Within the first ten minutes, he challenged me to a thumb wrestling match. Twenty minutes later he decided it would be fun to see if he could unhook my bra in one take. He did, just like The Fonz. Heeeeeyyyyyyyyyyyyy.

It was a busy year for me. In 2005, I will take my 2004 lessons under advisement and revert back to books and batteries sprinkled with passive dating. While my dating spree has provided me with a stable of good material, I’m ready for quality now as Kathleen and I work on our book about dating. I enjoyed the feast, but I think I’ll enjoy my 2005 famine much more.