Debunking the Bar Myth

Sometimes it seems as though all I ever hear is my single friends complaining about how impossible it is to meet someone worth dating at a bar. Occasionally, I just nod along, listening to their rant about the bar scene. Other times, I try to respond with a hopeful "You'll find someone eventually!" But what I normally say to these friends is simple: you can meet people anywhere.

And that includes a bar.

I think bars get a bad rep. Sure, I have had less than delightful experiences at bars, many of which include being the recipient of unwanted affections or engaging in conversation with the annoying, over-inebriated stranger. However, to those who say that you can never meet anyone worth dating at a bar, I must ask this: do you go to bars? And subsequently, are you worth dating?

If you answered yes to the above questions, then all I ask is that you consider that perhaps if you frequent bars and are a decent, dateable human being, then there must be a chance that there are other people at bars just like you -- also decent and dateable. Shocking revelation, I know.

The thing is, it really is a matter of getting to know people as best as you can, given the circumstances and the location. Not all bars are created equal, of course, but ultimately, all you can do is strike up a conversation, learn a little bit about the other person, and give them a chance. So they might not end up being a potential match. So what? You're at a bar -- presumably with friends, as opposed to venturing out alone -- so go hang out with your friends and let it go.

At the same time, completely dismissing someone wanting to strike up a conversation based on bar-prejudice alone could mean missing out on someone interesting. For as many questionable interactions I've had with people at bars, I've had twice as many engaging and enjoyable ones. I've met some fun and interesting people at bars -- some of which I am still friends with today. TRUTH.

I think back to my favorite success story, which is not mine personally, but a friend's: we girls were out one night, and my friend ended up meeting a guy at a bar. Personally, I think the rest of us girls were doubtful about their interaction, considering the amount of alcohol flowing; however, something must have clicked between my friend and this guy. They exchanged numbers, went on a first date, and come to find out: he's a gentleman, a volunteer with the Boys & Girls Club, has a good job, and an apartment. Yes, people, he is the quintessential nice guy and my friend met him AT A BAR.

And that is not some sort of miracle. It can happen to you too. Give bars a chance. At the very least, you'll get a good cocktail out of it, right?

The Boyfriend Card Part Two: A Story

A few weeks ago, I went out to a bar with a group of girl friends on a Saturday night.  It was exactly what you’d expect: a night out in the pursuit of drinks and dancing – just us girls!

That usually doesn’t happen though. My friends and I have a tendency to make friends whenever we go out. Half the time, it’s as a result of us unashamedly asking for a seat at a table or pushing our way to the bar. The other half of the time, it’s probably just because a gaggle of girls ordering shots generally attracts some sort of attention. This night was no exception. As we chatted amongst each other at our table, having ordered a very embarrassingly named shot that required embarrassing methods for consumption, we unwittingly were the recipients of a quite a few glances, but also the attention of some guys. One such gentleman bravely approached my friends and I, and as I explained our drink decision, a faux-friendship was born. I say “faux-friendship” because it’s the kind of friendship that is great and provides lots of fun – but only for that evening.

And so, our new friend became an extension of our group for the evening, as did a few other guys who joined in our fun. As I talked with our new friend, I was confronted with that age-old question: “When do I tell this guy that I have a boyfriend?”

As we've gone over before, I knew that I could casually drop the boyfriend card into conversation, but I also realized that the boyfriend card, at this point in the night, was irrelevant. I was part of a group of girls – even if I was “taken”, my other friends weren’t, and thus, if finding a girl was this guy’s “goal” for the evening, talking with me, boyfriend or no boyfriend, didn’t matter because I was still his “in” with the other girls.

Sure, this guy was primarily focusing his flirtation toward me, but I did what any good wingwoman should do: bolster up her friends, and highlight the reasons they’re so great in an effort to deflect his misguided attention. The boyfriend card was a non-issue: I wasn’t getting drinks from this guy, and we were just having a conversation. Does everything need to be about hooking up?

We divided our time throughout the night, spending part as as we originally anticipated, shouting “woo” while waving our hands in the air like we just didn’t care, while spending the rest hanging out with our faux friends.

When one of our faux friends suggested heading to a different bar next door though, I faced an issue: my object of flirtation for the evening wanted to come with us. At first glance, this isn’t really an issue. Bars are open to the public; anyone can go. However, I knew that by inviting this guy to tag along with me and my friends I was suggesting to him that I wanted to spend more time with him because I was romantically interested. Essentially, the subtext would become the text. So this was the moment. I had to drop the boyfriend card so that this guy wouldn’t waste the rest of the night following me around under the guise that I was single, and ready to mingle. Right?

I tried hinting to him that it wasn’t worth it to come to the next bar. “We’re going to a total dive! If I wasn’t with my friends, I’d probably just go home and go to bed!” I surmised.

Didn’t work.

“We’ll probably have to wait in line, and by the time we get in, it’ll probably be closing!”

Also didn’t work.

In a last-ditch attempt, I did it. I threw the boyfriend card. I don’t remember exactly how I worded it; I just remember that it was extremely awkward and not at all organic to the conversation. Most likely, I said it like this, “I HAVE A BOYFRIEND.” Despite this ungraceful effort to be honest and not lead a nice guy on, I don’t think he even heard me, because he followed my friends and I to the next bar, where, he didn’t even end up getting in.

So moral of this story? Well, first of all, I don’t think blogs are necessarily conducive to sharing morals. But, for the sake of this rant, I will try to provide some moral perspective. I suppose I should have worked the “boyfriend card” into conversation earlier in the night. I think I was so desperate not to let the guy down, and distracted by my own efforts to play wingwoman that I failed to recognize that our faux friendship had expired shortly after he focused his attention on me alone.

It’s one of those weird dimensions that only exits in “bar land” – you can’t assume that everyone is hitting on you/interested in you, but you should also be aware that some people are there to meet someone and thus, may actually be hitting on you/interested in you. If you were to meet someone in a grocery store, you wouldn’t necessarily drop the boyfriend card amidst a discussion on whether to buy generic or brand-name peanut butter. You’re at the grocery store. However, when you’re at a bar and you meet someone, the expectations of conversations among people there are different:  knowing whether or not the person you’re talking to has a boyfriend/girlfriend does change things because the expectation of that conversation may be to see if you’re romantically compatible with the other person.
Sure, you could meet your next boyfriend/girlfriend at a grocery store, but you go to a grocery store with the intention to get just that: groceries. Not your future spouse. People go to bars to hang out, chill, have fun and dance (if you’re like me) – but it’s also frequently considered a place to meet people, and more commonly, meet someone you might want to date. Not every person I talk to is going to be someone who wants to date me (I’m great, sure, but not that great), but it does help to be sensitive to the fact that certain locales require a specific sort of social protocol. In this case, throwing the boyfriend card at the right time.

When the Crazy Cat Lady Is Your Boyfriend

Because any man who has a cat is a winner.
http://dailycaller.com/2010/11/19/the-sweet-sixteen-of-awkward-family-pet-photos-slideshow/pet002019403/

I have always been wary of men who consider themselves “cat people.” They are a special breed of man, akin to the “renaissance man” or metrosexual in the sense that they do not rely on masculine stereotypes to build their confidence. They are in tune to more than just beer, basketball, and babes. They have multi-dimensional interests, and are emotionally mature and open-minded. However, cat-loving men are still distinct from their evolutionarily progressive male counterparts. You see, as much as they might be enigmatic and interesting, cat-loving men are just that: men who love cats.

So what’s my “beef” with cats and ultimately, the men who love them? Well, cats are confusing creatures –the Rubik’s Cube of pets. Unlike with dogs, you have to earn a cat’s affection. Cats never automatically like you. With their judgmental eyes and quiet footsteps, they seem as though they’re plotting world domination. You can be sure that they’re sizing you up, deciding whether to kill you or allow you to co-exist with them. And that’s the thing – they decide what your relationship is going to be like with them, not the other way around. Ultimately, you can never really know if they actually like you or if they’re just trying to get you to feed them.

I’m suspicious of cats, and as a result, suspicious of their owners. If cats are judgmental, tyrannical, and potentially looking to take over the world, then what does that suggest about the owners who love them? These feline attributions don’t so much as transfer onto their owners as they do suggest that their owners are willing to be submissive, begging for their cats’ love and affection so as not to be taken out upon their cats’ world domination.  Who could love such a creature – and more importantly – could I love someone who loved a cat? I had never really come face-to-face with a single, male cat owner until I went to my boyfriend’s apartment, a few weeks after our first date.

I hadn’t known he had a cat. It wasn’t until I went to my boyfriend’s apartment for the first time and saw the litter box that I realized I might have to re-consider the whole relationship. My boyfriend introduced his cat to me: a girl cat, named Gary. He cooed and talked to Gary in a baby voice, telling me how “beautiful” she was, petting her and avoiding her attempts to scratch him.

Despite all of this, I really liked this guy. After all, he was a man of the 21^st century: charming, smart, a great cook, capable of doing his own laundry, and sarcastic. I realized if I wanted to have the relationship, I was going to have to come to terms with the cat.

As I spent more time with my boyfriend, and subsequently, his cat, I realized: cats aren’t so bad. I learned more about Gary and her personality, and became more in tune to the kind of cat that she was. Sure, I was still nervous from time-to-time that Gary would claw my eyes out in my sleep, but when she’d cuddle up next to me on the couch, I felt an immense sense of satisfaction. Here was this creature, known to be judgmental and finicky, choosing to return my affection. I realized that my expectation of immediate, unconditional love devalued that same love. Earning Gary’s affection taught me something: having to put work into a relationship and upholding a set of standards isn’t a bad thing. Instead, having a set of standards meant that I could have a better and more fulfilling relationship. And yes – a cat helped me realize that. I earned the love and trust of my boyfriend’s cat, and at the same time, the love and trust of my boyfriend.

Over a year later, I still might be wary of cats, but I am proud to be dating a cat person. Recently though, at the doctor’s office, I sat in the examination room waiting for an explanation as to why I haven’t gotten over my cold.

            “It’s your boyfriend’s cat,” she said.

            Go figure.

Can Harry Be JUST Friends with Sally?

I watched When Harry Met Sally for the first time this winter break. I know -- it was a long time coming. After all, I'm a 20-something female. It's my duty to watch the entire library of chick flicks and move through life according to the chick flick code. After joining the rest of my sisterhood as someone who has seen the film, I talked over one of the major themes with a friend: can you truly be friends with someone of the opposite sex?

According to Harry, you can't; according to Sally, you can. My friend and I were decidedly "Team Sally," agreeing that of course you can be friends with someone of the opposite sex. It's 2013 -- soon to be 2014 -- men are not from Mars, and women are not from Venus. We may be different in some ways, but we are certainly not from different planets, and we most certainly can have a purely platonic relationship with each other. Men and women are just as capable as having a fulfilling relationship sans romance with each other as men have with other men and women have with other women. In fact, I think it's possible to have a friendship with someone of the opposite sex without ever wanting it to develop into something "more." These different-sex friendship function much in the same way that same-sex friendships do, and sometimes, the only difference between these types of relationships is in the sex of the friends and society's apparent bewilderment at how this friendship exists and prospers.

So we've established that men and women can be friends -- and good friends at that. But what happens when you misinterpret the joke of a long-time friend or mistake an intimate gesture to be more romantic than platonic? If a friend of the same sex offers to pay for your dinner or gives you a kiss on the cheek, you may not think anything of it. If that friend is of the opposite sex and does those things or strays from the firmly established norms of your friendship, suddenly, you question the motivations of your friend. When someone puts the bug in your ear, suggesting that this friend might feel something more, then what happens?

All it takes is for someone to plant the seed. A mutual friend might misread a text or a gesture from your "Harry" and propose that Harry wants fiery romance rather than friendly repartee. You might have never considered Harry as anything more than your friend, and you still might not be interested in pursuing romance, but all of a sudden, you're reading all of Harry's verbal and nonverbal cues as amorous. A simple text in the middle of the night might have previously been just another text from Harry, but now that the "seed" is there -- that little piece of doubt that your relationship isn't strictly platonic -- that text is a sign that Harry is in love with you. And that's how you begin to interpret your exchanges with this friend. Every actions seems to beg the question: "Does this mean that he likes me?"

He probably doesn't, and you probably still don't want to venture into romantic relationship territory, and yet, now that Pandora's Box has been opened, your previously neutral interactions are now seemingly sexually and romantically charged. And once that box has been opened, can you go back? Can you just shut off the filter -- you know, that sifter in your mind that filters everything your Harry or Sally says to determine whether he/she is more than just a friend? It's difficult, for sure, but then it just gets worse.

As my friend and I were discussing this phenomenon, the "friend-to-faux-flirtation" situation in which you begin to doubt this strictly platonic friendship, we wondered if it could wind up being a self-fulfilling prophecy. He and I have both been in situations when we have been friends with someone of the opposite sex for a really long time, never wanting nor being interested in pursuing something romantic. However, there came a point in those relationships when we began to question the motivations of our interactions with said friend, and started to question our own feelings toward that person in the process. I told my friend that he should set up his "Sally" with another guy, if he wasn't interested in her, so that he could divert her "imagined" romantic interest toward someone else. However, he made a valid point: what if he realized that her faux flirtation wasn't so "faux" at all, and decided that he wanted to move past friendship and onto a romantic relationship?

But is this a self-fulfilling prophecy? Could you start being interested in your friend as "more than" because of this "imagined" romantic interest? Perhaps we should consult the chicken and the egg for their take on situations of this sort of complication. Relationships are prone to living in that "grey" area -- regardless of the genders involved -- but it only gets more muddied when you're dealing with a Harry and Sally. Does this mean that Harry and Sally can't be friends? No. But I think what this comes down to is the basics of any good friendship or relationship: honesty and open communication. If you can be honest and truthful with your Harry or Sally, then you won't have any mixed messages -- even if those messages end up being that you do want something more than a platonic friendship.

The Boyfriend Card

This is only semi-relevant to this blog post... If by wizard's chess you mean "flirting at bars" and if by normal chess you mean "talking to people" and if by "muggles" you mean you are in a relationship and by "wizards" you mean single people???
Did you get all of that?

Sometimes, I feel as though the bar scene is akin to that of a game of chess.  Now, I don’t actually know how to play chess, aside from very basic knowledge and a failed attempt at game play in middle school, but I at least know that in chess, your movements are entirely dependent and reactive to those of your opponent. You size up your opponent, try to calculate their next move, and in return, develop your own strategy in the process. And really, how much different is this then our interactions with each other at a bar? Not much –though, probably a lot less intellectual.

Once you’re locked into this flirtatious chess game with your new bar-friend of choice and you’ve determined that they want to check your mate*, what happens if – insert ominous music here – you have a boyfriend? Sure, you’re enjoying the exchange with your pseudo-new-friend and find the banter to be above par for a conversation noticeably under-the-influence, but you’re not exactly going to drop your current beau in lieu of a flirtation with little potential to exist outside of the two beers you’re sharing.

So that leads me to ask: when do you drop the boyfriend card? You know what I’m talking about – when do you bring up the fact that, yes, although you are reacting to his moves by flirting and smiling and laughing at all of his not-so-funny jokes, you actually are not interested in progressing form the bar to the bedroom? The way he's making his moves and playing the game -- touching your arm, making eye contact, complimenting to you -- suggests that you need to react with moves that continue the game-play without leading him on but also, without making him ditch you solely because you have a boyfriend.

You must tread lightly, my friend -- just as you can't move certain chess pieces at the beginning of the game, you can't just make the preemptive strike by bringing up the boyfriend. Not every guy who talks to a girl at a bar is trying to hit on her. And while it's pretty likely that this guy may be hitting on you, it's not a given. By moving the "boyfriend" piece at the beginning of the conversation, you run the risk of sounding pretentious and narcissistic. You're talking to someone who you, at this point, are getting along with, and run the risk of alienating. Some guys -- believe it or not -- will still talk to you even if you have a boyfriend, so start the game off with the boyfriend card, and you risk losing out on having a nice conversation with a nice person.

Okay, so you can’t open up the conversation with a good ol’ fashioned, “hey, nice to meet you. I have a boyfriend.” That much has been established. Yet, I’m fully aware that the further the conversation progresses, the more likely it is that the omission of your non-single-status could be an item of contention. Obviously, you want to be truthful, but you don't want to lead this guy on. He keeps moving closer to capturing your pawn, and lady, your pawn has already been captured.* 

Be subtle. Throw your boyfriend into the conversation in a subtle, yet gentle way. Everyone knows that, when you're at a bar, you run the risk of flirting with someone who already has a boyfriend/girlfriend, but that doesn't mean that they're solely out for some pirate's booty every night. Sure, there will be the occasional guy who forfeits the game as soon as he finds out you're already the object of someone else's affection, but who wants to continue to talk to those guys anyway? For the nice guys out there who are having a good time talking to you regardless, there's no reason to lead the poor chap on. If I'm talking about basketball with a guy, I'll slide in a boyfriend reference by saying, "Oh yeah, that's my boyfriend's favorite sport, even though I don't really like it much" or if we're talking about a particular place, I'll mention "yeah, my boyfriend loves that bar." It's not in-your-face, but it's enough to let the person know that, alas, at the end of the night, you'll be going home to someone else.

Ultimately, the point is not to sound so contrived. Hell, you're just having a conversation with another person. Be friendly, be nice, be you. When you're talking about yourself, inevitably, it happens that you bring up a friend or a family member, so just throw the boyfriend in there too. There have been times when I've mentioned that "I have a boyfriend" early on in the conversation and have been met with the response, "Oh, I wasn't trying to hit on you." Even if said guy wasn't actually trying to hit on me, I made the rest of what had been a good conversation awkward. I've since just tried to go with the flow. Next time you're out and chatting with a friendly fellow, just be sure that you're reading his moves and responding with the right ones -- yeah, you're taken, but you're not opposed to some more banter. After all, I'm at a bar to engage in fun conversations and have a good time. And aren't we all just people trying to have a good time?

 *Bad chess puns. Don't hate me.

** Unrelated asterisk -- don't throw the boyfriend card to get rid of guys you don't like. That's mean. You're above that.

Can I Buy You a Drink?

From 21st century master composer T-Pain

We're all familiar with the scenario: it's Saturday night, you're leaning over at the bar attempting to catch the bartender's attention and order yourself a vodka tonic. Teetering on your heels, your patience is being tested as you think, "What's a girl got to do to get a drink around here?" -- a cliché that, up until right now, had always seemed reserved for bad, fictional screenplays as opposed to real life.

This brief period of drinklessness, however, serves as the perfect opening for the fella or group of fellas standing right beside you at the bar, waiting for their own even-more-hopeless chance at getting a round of drinks. You’re all vying for the same thing and this, inevitably, leads to a new sense of camaraderie, and therefore, opportunity.

You know how it goes: girl starts walkin, guy starts gawkin, already standing next to you and starts talking. All of a sudden, you're engaged in a verbal tango, a tête-à-tête at the bar, and this once-stranger is now the subject of your weekend flirtation. As you and this no-longer stranger bond over shared observations of the scene, the bartender finally recognizes your lack of cocktails and points toward your new friend, implying he’s ready to make you some drinks. That’s when the once-stranger-now-friend turns to you and asks, “What are you having? Let me buy you a drink.”

Up until this point, it has all been so seamless and easy. Girl meets guy. Guy meets girl. Someone needs a drink and you’re both in the perfect location to get one. But is it okay to let your new friend pick up the tab? Should you embrace the generosity or stand firm in your feminist resolve? What does it all mean?

I have found myself in this exact situation too many times to count. Regardless of whether or not I’m single or in a relationship, I am never quite sure as to what the protocol is. There are so many different components that affect my acceptance or polite decline—all of which are scenario dependent and thus, dispelling any hope of issuing a standard “rule” as to how to handle the situation.

I’ll be honest—my first inclination is to accept the drink. I’m a girl on a budget and saving $10 on a cocktail sounds pretty appealing. However, I recognize that this might not always be the best course of action as there are implications and repercussions to an innocent “sure, I’ll take a vodka tonic.”

When I accept a drink from a guy, I usually offer good conversation (on top of our current one), some mild (harmless) flirtation and my phone number (if I’m single) in exchange. I like to think that this is a fair trade. When I’m out with my friends, I think nothing of buying them a drink or two because they’re offering me their company, I enjoy being with them and I know that my friends will do the same for me. Sure, it may be a bit naïve of me to think that a bit of witty banter and batting of the eyelashes is enough to satisfy my new friend after he has graciously bought me a beverage. But at the same time, to think that I would offer anything more than that is presumptuous on the part of the suitor.

Last Thursday night, I was the girl in this scenario, yet again. I was standing alone at the bar waiting to be served when the gentleman next to me offered to buy my drink. I had been waiting for my boyfriend and a few guy friends to meet me, so I politely turned the gentleman down, worried that accepting a drink from him meant that I was contracted to a certain amount of flirtation and interest. If I hadn’t been meeting a bunch of guys for drinks, would I have accepted the free drink? Perhaps. But the fact that I had a group of fellas joining me shortly felt a bit manipulative of me – I didn’t want this guy, stranger or not, to think that I was only paying him any attention in the hopes that I could get him to open his wallet up to me. In accepting a drink from him, I would've been implying a certain degree of interest in him, our conversation and continuing/committing to that conversation -- something that wasn't the case this time.

Ultimately, I think the whole situation comes down to circumstance and the person you meet. Are you being open and honest about your intentions? Are you both having a good time? The times when I do accept a drink from a guy (single or not single) are when I’m having a good time and we're both getting along. I’m clear about my intentions and give the guy realistic expectations about what’s going to happen post-drink. 

The times when I don’t accept a drink from a guy? If I don't feel any sort of vibe/chemistry and the conversation doesn't seem to go anywhere, then I'll decline. Obviously, you shouldn't accept a drink from anyone who makes you uncomfortable, seems pushy or offers it to you in a white van. And don't be that girl who accepts the free drink just to say that she got a free drink. 

At the end of the night, you want to make sure that you treated the opponent of your verbal-sparring match with integrity and respect, regardless of whether or not you were offered a drink. The whole point of going out is to have fun and meet good people. If you're lucky enough to be the recipient of someone's generosity, make sure to match it with a gracious thank you, and heck, treat them to a drink in return!

In Defense of Valentine's Day

from someecards

Single ladies, get your Netflix queued up with chick flicks and have the wine handy. Non-single ladies, be prepared for a sub-par romantic attempt on behalf of your significant other to acknowledge my favorite (and only) time of the year to binge on heart-shaped, chocolate-covered marshmallows. Rejoice – it’s everyone’s favorite holiday: Valentine’s Day!

PSYCHE! Of all of the year’s holidays, I’d be willing to bet that Valentine’s Day is the most hated – not because it kicks the single population while they’re down (assuming they’re even “down” – being single ain’t so bad, kids), but because it seems to exist for no real apparent reason other than to fuel greeting card sales during an otherwise dismal month. Aren’t we supposed to celebrate love every day? Shouldn’t we be buying cheesy teddy bears and heart-shaped boxes of chocolates for our loved ones at all times of the year?

Last night, a good friend of mine called me up to chat as we were both stuck in horrendous Boston traffic. He told me that he hates Valentine’s Day – despite the fact that he has a girlfriend. He just doesn’t see the point. Of course, he cited my previous reasons (as many other guys do): he does nice things for his girlfriend every other day out of the year, so why does he, deliberately and preparedly, have to do something just because it is February 14^th? Certainly, St. Valentine wasn’t going around marrying people in hopes that one day his act of kindness and courage would be commemorated with the exchange of Justin Bieber greeting cards between lovestruck tweens.

My friend has a point. All of one’s romance shouldn’t be saved up for one occasion, just because CVS has lined its aisles in pink- and red-themed candy on a particular day in February. However, I told my friend that he couldn’t not acknowledge Valentine’s Day – especially when his girlfriend had already remarked that she loved the holiday. Sure, there is no law that says Valentine’s Day must be observed, but we all know it’s happening, so why not indulge a little bit? If you enjoy doing nice things for your significant other, then why would you be bothered about doing another nice thing for him/her (however small or grand the gesture may be)?

I’ll admit, it’s always better when one’s motives for being romantic are a bit more organic, but Valentine’s Day has carved out a specific time in the year for some QT with you and your partner-in-crime. What's wrong with one day out of the year that encourages and endorses romance and acting on romance? Don’t take it all so seriously and just use it as an excuse for more loving, touching and squeezing.

As my title suggests, I'm sure it’s clear that I actually like Valentine’s Day. Granted, I like all holidays in general. Let’s be serious – do I strike you as someone who would turn down a celebration of any sort? I actually don’t have any Valentine’s Day plans tonight, though. Yes, I do currently have a boyfriend, but things come up, people are busy, and there just isn’t the time for that horse-drawn-carriage around the ‘burbs after a long shift at work. However, we will be celebrating Valentine’s Day at a later date, because I do think it is important to carve out time for the ones you like/love (whether it is a new beau, all of your closest pals, or a furry friend).  In the meantime, if you are looking for me, I will be at CVS buying their entire stock of Valentine’s Day themed chocolate.

And I will leave you with this...

I suggest you do what the video recommends at the end...

Nothing says "I love you" like emailing your sweetheart a cat video via YouTube.

If You're Lucky Enough to Get a Date While Living at Home...

I don't like looking at this picture very much...
but it seemed relevant... sadly.

By now, you should know that I live with my parents – if not from the fact that you have read multiple blog posts, then from the tone of self-pity and shame that haunts each of my posts. And while this actually doesn’t pose many problems, it does become a bit of an issue with one certain aspect of my life: dating.

Now, I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. I am not a female lothario. I could hardly be classified as a man-eater unless you want to get into the consumption and gender of my breakfast, lunch and dinner.  However, if you have even semi-interested and involved parents, then you might see how living at home can be the cause of chronic “awkward turtle” moments at the beginning of whatever budding relationship makes its way to my front door.

Any time I have gone on a first date that involves a suitor picking me up, my polite date has (usually) had the common decency to come to my door. If I lived alone or with other 20-somethings, this would not be any sort of production. In fact, it would probably be standard practice. But with my parents? This seemingly innocent moment in my fledgling of a relationship becomes fair game for them. What should be the moment my date and I lock eyes and ignite some sort of romantic fire instead becomes a verbal assault and battery as this male suitor faces my inquisitive “roommates.”

Once I can finally maneuver past my parents, shuffling my date past their barrage of questions and threats, I can breathe. Sort of. At least now, if anything embarrassing happens, it’s my fault. The date is back within my control (for the most part) and the only person I have to blame for its subsequent failure is myself. If he managed to look past my sort-of innocently-curious parents and then later seems to be exiting out of the restaurant bathroom window after I talk to him? Well, we all know the cause of that.

For the most part, he and I can laugh it off and attribute it to my parents’ always-endearing love for me, and then move on to our inevitable awkward chit-chat and sizing-up of each other… Until my date brings me home.

As he will pull up in front of my house, I make sure to check for any possible beady eyes peering out of windows. My second-check is for my dog, whose first reaction to anything within his line of vision from the window (or front yard) is to bark – loudly. When he does this, I know that whoever is within even a mile’s earshot will be notified that I have probably returned home and am experiencing that awkward moment at the end of a date where we need to decide if we’re going to shake hands, hug, kiss or just run as fast as possible away from each other. If this last parting moment between me and my date happens in the car, then at least I have a steel casing protecting me from the vision of my parents, dog and hopefully neighbors. However, if my date is really trying to step up his chivalry game and takes me to the door? I cross my fingers  and hope that my brother isn't positioned just so on the couch that he can see out the window and onto our front doorstep – a front row audience member to some guy’s attempt to end the date with something more than a nice pat on the back and “call you never.”

If I manage to make it through those final parting moments without any witnesses, I still am not yet in the clear. Believe me, I have tried to dodge past my family’s almost-meddling interest while en route to my room – but it somehow seems that I can never make it into my room before being met with a “so how was it?” And I’ll be honest, I usually don’t mind this. In fact, I do enjoy a little recap of the day/night’s events – if not just because I probably like to hear myself speak, then because I need someone to know all of the events to later help me overanalyze everything. But in those rare moments when I want to savor my experience all by myself? I will inevitably have to share something to appease the curiosity of my parents. I can’t spend a few hours with some person they have never met and then NOT tell them even a smidgeon of information– is that even possible? Any silence on my part may lead them to believe that I have just spent an hour playing mini-golf and getting ice cream with a sociopath.

Trying to keep things from my parents in general is nearly impossible for me. Not only am I a terrible liar, but I respect and love my parents and want them to know what is going on with me. I will admit, though, that there are times that this can be difficult. After all, I cannot separate what I want to share with what I don’t want to share because I live with them. They see the events of my life unfolding simply because they’re around and they can see who picks me up, who’s calling me on the phone and even who sends me flowers (even though that rarely happens -- they can still see it!).

Let's be real here. When I order something online (usually shoes... always shoes), my parents are usually the ones who retrieve it from the front doorstep and know about its arrival before I do. I can't even keep the new purchases in my life a secret from them -- how am I supposed to keep a budding relationship, something that is decidedly more important than shoes (barely), from them?

It is one of the trade-offs of living at home. Although I have been living back at home for over a year now, I am still trying to find a way to balance my new adult (sort-of) life with the comforts that come from moving back in with your parents. I am not the same person I was when I lived there back in high school and my dating patterns are certainly more different. No -- I definitely do NOT bring anyone back to my house after a successful date -- but still, even if I felt the need to extend my date to an evening romp, do I really even have a choice? (And, parents, I know you are reading this, I am not trying to offend you! -- side note: they are probably the majority of my readers) I guess the issue here is that I do not have the choice to choose the information and potentially filter it or share it the way (and on the timeline) that I want to because they see everything happening in real time.When I am hurt by a guy or when I go through a breakup, they see the tears and the pain -- so even if I want to keep it to myself, I really can't. Of course, I always eventually tell them what's going on, but I never have a moment where something can be just mine when I'm located just down the hall from them. I do not have the luxury of having a first date, processing it and then calling up my mom to tell her the highlights because there is no time to process.

I am forever grateful to my awesome "roomies" for letting me stay at home and save a few bucks, so I don't mean to sound unappreciative -- because I am! But I do think that part of growing up and becoming more independent means having to work through situations and sift through information on your own. You will be able to formulate your own resolutions to problems and your own opinions about people and information before it becomes offered up for dinner table conversation. However, it is part of the experience of living at home and learning to manage with current circumstances.

I'd also like to point out I realize that I also am cramping my parents' "dating" habits. My mom said to me, "Did you ever think that maybe you get in the way of us wanting to...[be romantic]" (I'm editing her sentence, but you can interpret that as you wish) to which I could only reply TOUCHÉ!

Thoughts? Comments? Smacking your forehead with your hand? Doh?

TMI on Thirsty Thursday

(from sheknows.com) -- Even dogs get thirsty on Thursday
And yes, I know this picture has nothing to do with the post

It feels as though every time I go to a bar, I come back with a story. True, sometimes that story is incredibly dull, other times that story is wildly amusing -- but on some occasions (and this one in particular), I come back with a story that leaves me contemplating the so-called progress of humanity. As I've claimed on multiple posts, I love talking and I love meeting new people; so when I'm at a bar, where people clamor about drink in hand and with considerably less social armor, I am more than willing to strike up a conversation with anyone who wishes to engage in one with me. Luckily not too often, this leaves me to be the victim of some bad pick-up line or a feeble attempt to get my phone number. However, I find that most of the time I have a new character to add to my increasingly lengthy and poorly-selling-future biography, preferably in some chapter called "Cocktails Are to Blame."

In my most recent bar escapade, I was engaging in what I like to believe is a national pastime called "Thirsty Thursday" -- a beloved tradition where working guys and girls let off some steam at a local watering hole on the wannabe-weekend-Thursday. My commitment to this activity waned as I graduated and found that waking up on Friday mornings at 7:30 was exponentially more painful after a few cocktails the night before; however, in the interest of the #YOLO movement, I've been trying to do my best to uphold a certain standard of "fun" in my life.

This week, I met up with a regular Thursday night companion of mine -- a close guy friend from high school who always makes me feel as though I'm ninety years old whenever I turn down his "going-out-to-bar" invites. I mentally prepared myself all day for this night out, so by the time 10PM came, I was already in my leather pants and 4-inch-heels, and armed with enough cash to get me suitably buzzed. Normally, when meeting my friend at the bar, I will text him "where are you," "are you in the bar yet," and other overtly insecure text messages to prevent the dreaded solo entrance and subsequent awkward search of my friend inside the bar. However, for whatever reason, that night, I didn't care that I was alone and decided to own my temporary loner status, standing at the corner of a bar with my beer in hand.

I did the usual scope-out/creeping of the bar -- I am always amused by the interactions among friend groups and guy/gal pick-ups. I try to get a sense of who's on a first date and who has been together for too long (easy to pick out if you see someone rolling their eyes at their companion and on their tenth drink). While doing this scan of the room, I was called out for being alone by a man standing close to me at the bar. With his slicked back hair and seedy smile, I tried not to stereotype, but I could sense that this was not the kind of guy who was going to ask me what my thoughts were on the current political climate and then compliment my feminist ethics. 

Instead, he asked me what I was doing -- presumably to find out if I was waiting for my boyfriend -- to which I responded, "standing at a bar." He used this opportunity to compliment me, telling me that I was doing a "good job," and I told him that "I have been training my entire life for this. Thank you." Our  brief interaction had caught the attention of another gentleman at the bar, who had noticed my accent, or, more accurately, lack thereof, prompting him to ask me if I was from around here. "Yes, why?" The more polite gentleman inched closer, probably to ol slick's dismay as my attention was diverted from his predictable lines.

In only a matter of minutes. the floodgates had been opened. I had been alone, unguarded and open to advances. My lack of companion acted as a signal to my solo male counterparts and they took this as an opportunity to become a part of a bar duo. 

Now, I understand that none of this is a particularly novel bar story. It is pretty typical, but I suppose where things began to stray from the norm came from what I found to be a surprisingly no-holds-barreds strategy on the part of these two "gentleman."

Case in point -- let's take a look at the opening fellow, whom we shall call "Slick." I found out, very quickly, that he was 31 and on the prowl. Not only that, but when I suggested that this night needed to get more exciting, either with a bar-fight or a dance-off, he willingly offered himself as a participant. He said that he wanted to be punched. I told him that I thought he definitely deserved a punch in the face, but, he not one to pick up on not-so-subtle-hints, went on to describe the length of his "member," claiming to be a part of the 9+ inch "club." Maybe it's just me, but when did this become normal conversational fodder? I have only been out of the dating game for a mere 4-5 months, and yet, it seems to me that discussing phallic measurements is something that should be reserved for not just a date, but maybe (generously) a third date, preferably as a joke (like "ha ha, jk, lol"). 

Slick was not yet done with his inappropriate conversation topics. At one point, even though my friend had added himself to this conversational mess (by the time my friend arrived at the bar, he was joining me and these two guys,) I ended up alone again with Slick beside me. He began to ask me a much-too-profound question for a Thursday night at a bar: "What do you want out of life?" I'm assuming he thought I'd respond by outlining a specific career choice, but instead, I told him that "I just want to be happy." He didn't like my answer, finding it far too ambiguous, so proceeded to tell me what he wanted out of life: "I want to be married with three kids - two boys and one girl." I'm pretty sure as he told me this he slurred his words. And you know what? That would have been okay... if he had stopped there. How he made the transition to this next comment, I don't even remember. I just remember being horrified. He then told me: "My ex-girlfriend is getting an abortion."

Yes, let that soak in for a minute. This complete stranger, who had already informed me of his supposed crotch measurements and life goals had just shared some extremely personal (and not even his OWN personal) information with me. I told him that "that's not something you share with a person you just met at a bar" and promptly ended that conversation. My friends, that is what we call: TMI (too much information). I don't know what about that serves the purpose of picking up a lady at a bar, but I can assure you, it doesn't work. It won't ever work. Do I have a label on my forehead that says, "Please have wildly inappropriate small talk with me. Reward: my phone number" -- (assuming my phone number actually could be considered a reward.)

I thought things might be better with Bachelor #2 -- we can call this gentleman "Peach," as he hails from Georgia and he had a bald head. He was incredibly nice and engaging. He had the banter thing down and even after I made the obligatory mention of my boyfriend, he still hung out with me and my guy friend for the remainder of the night -- something that is a rarity in the bar scene. Our small talk was seemingly harmless: the usual what do you do for work, what are you up to tonight, let's comment on things going on at the bar, etc. However, at some point, the conversation veered into "too personal" territory. As Peach and I began to discuss the concept of "one night stands," (he was not trying to invite me to one, for the record) he went on to tell me some details about his life that were a bit jarring -- I had only met this guy less than an hour ago. I found that he was 27 (okay), divorced (eh, that's still not a big deal), had a 7-year-old kid (ummm, still alright) and also had a vasectomy. What? Is it common for guys to share the status of their inner-man-tubes? Is that sort of thing supposed to come up in chit chat? And furthermore, why did I need to know this? How was this relevant to me? Oh yeah, relevant so that he could tell me that he wasn't sure he could actually have a one-night-stand with someone he just met because he doesn't like to wear condoms when engaging in intercourse and... well, I'm going to stop that right there for the sake of maintaining a PG-13 status for my blog, but I'm sure you can infer a few things about the rest of that conversation. So, COOL. Thanks for letting me know, Peach. Pertinent information and a lovely way to mark your memory in my mind for eternity. The fact that he later told me I was the prettiest girl at the bar did NOT, in any way shape or form, detract from my bewilderment at his sharing of these earlier facts. I. Just. Met. You.

Now, I tell you about these interactions, because I feel as though both prompt the question of WHY? If you're a single guy, I mean, I have to know -- why would anyone tell this to a single lady? Granted, these guys had both found out I had a boyfriend, so that was already off the table, but does that still even make it okay? If I hadn't disclosed my "taken" status, would they have told me these things? I don't see how sharing this information with me could have led these guys to believe that I would look upon them more favorably. Was it their attempt to turn me on? If anything, it turned me off... I may be turned off for years at this point and may have to re-consider any sort of nostalgia for my intermittent single lady days.

Should I just keep my mouth shut from now on or, if I choose to continue to engage in conversation with people at bars, should I realize that this might just have to be expected? 

Until next Thursday...

The Month-Long Facebook Purge

thanks again someecards - no need to encourage my Facebook creeping

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times: it was the age of social media – a time where your friends are just a poke away, your social life is public domain and how you look in your profile picture determines how many dates you can get. Welcome.

With only a click, we can become instantly engaged to 500 of our closest friends or check up on the intimate lives of famous celebrities summed up in 140 characters. Everything and everyone is so accessible. I find out most of my news – local, national and even personal (happenings with friends or friends of friends) through social media.

So what happens when you disconnect from one of these major platforms for more than 24 hours? If you can even last that long? Well, I did it. I committed to over a month of Facebook-free life, and I live to tell the tale. But you may find yourself asking, why do it? Why purposefully sever an integral part of my life, one that feeds my inner gossip-monger and piques every single creepy curiosity? Ah, of course – the dreaded break-up.

When my last relationship ended, I spent the first 24 hours crying and then the next were spent snapping into survival mode. It was over, and to ward off the next few weeks of incessant “Facebook stalking,” I did what I needed to do: I deactivated my Facebook.  Was it because I have no willpower? Because I needed to prevent myself from checking-up on my now ex-boyfriend’s every musing and shared life detail? Well, yes and yes. Twenty-years ago, I may have called him and hung up, but now I had the new temptation to sift through photographs where he looked cute and decipher the hidden meanings of his statuses, hoping that they pertained less to a new lady and more to his devastation over our break-up. How is a girl supposed to move on when her ex’s face is plastered all over her news feed?

Answer: she can’t. And so, I embarked on this month long journey of Facebook detox, and I realized something – my world didn’t end. In fact, it kept spinning and I was okay; perhaps, even better than okay, I was happy. Perusing the latest news and photos on Facebook, I was constantly comparing my life to those carefully curated posts by my Facebook “friends.” Ah yes, there’s a friend on a cruise with her extremely good-looking, rich, doctor boyfriend having lunch with Ryan Gosling. Oh, and there’s a status update about a guy I used to go to school with announcing his new scientific discoveries on the moon and his subsequent Nobel prize. What have I done today? Oh yeah, I ate some leftover pizza, kissed my dog and didn’t cry about my ex-boyfriend. Wins all around.

After disconnecting from Facebook, I was less concerned about what others were doing and more concerned about what I was doing. The temptation to see what my ex was up to disappeared and that interest evaporated, as it was no longer presenting itself to me in updates on my news feed. And isn’t that the way it should be? I could focus on myself and not linger on the end of my break-up. Even more so, I was no longer baited by alluring statuses or heavily edited photos that my friends were posting, and therefore, no longer feeling as miserable. I forgot that each person has individual control over what they post, and obviously, they are only going to post things that portray their lives in the way they want to portray them. Facebook posts and tweets are heavily manipulated representations of our lives. If I want to come across as a spontaneous, fun-loving gal, I need only post photos and statuses of doing spontaneous, fun things. Similarly, if I wanted to garner sympathy or attract a sense of camaraderie from my friends over my current break-up, I could easily post broken-hearted statuses representing my side (and my side only) of the break-up. Essentially, we Photoshop our lives and only show the sides we want other people to see – deceptive and manipulative, maybe, but also very protective and defensive, naturally.

By no means is this necessarily a bad thing – I’m not exactly advocating for full-disclosure of your life’s every detail, good or bad (And there are those people who post too much. Do I need to know about the regularity of your bowel movements or read your comments as you live-tweet a funeral? No, I most definitely don’t), but this Facebook-free month allowed me to take a step back and re-evaluate why I was going on Facebook and what I was doing when I was on there.

When used for good (and not evil!), social media is a great tool for connecting to friends, but also connecting to communities all over the world. I didn’t need to use Facebook as a way for me to wallow in self-pity and misery. I was already miserable enough. What I needed to do was get offline and be with my friends – my REAL friends. Re-reading Facebook comments, looking at shared photographs and over-analyzing my ex-boyfriend’s Facebook statuses would not have been productive, by any means. Had I kept Facebook for that month, I have a feeling I would have held on to something that had already been long gone. However, de-activating my page was a sort of way of forcing me to start moving on and stop relying on social media to keep me engaged and connected with people, when what I really needed was offline support. Social media is fun, but being social is more fun.

True, I have since re-activated my Facebook. I’ll admit, I occasionally spend too much time reading statuses or looking through photos, but I try to remember why I use Facebook and keep it limited to those activities.  Do I Facebook stalk my ex-boyfriend? Well… I realized, that is what the “unfriend” button is for – for now, I have learned to co-exist with exes of all sorts (boyfriends, friends, etc.) on social media. Until the next break up?...

The Post-Grad Dating Dilemma

After approximately four years of living in a residence hall of some sort (give or take a semester or two), surrounded by a plethora of your peers, living in the happy-go-lucky college bubble, the concept of dating, for recent grads, has been completely distorted. In fact, if you think about it, we haven't even needed to participate in the whole dating ritual. All of our dating options have lived comfortably next door to us, down the hall, or just a hop, skip and a jump away for the last few years, making the dating process null and void, and essentially obsolete...

That is, until we graduated. What happens then? How does one meet a potential boyfriend/girlfriend when they're not served to you on a silver platter: attending a program your RA plans, assigned to work on a group project with you, or roommates with one of your friends? Cue the panic. 

The dilemma that we, as recent grads face, is a very real one. Within two weeks of being a college freshman, I had a boyfriend. I plopped down in my sociology class, was forced to introduce myself to the guy next to me as part of some sort of activity, and then voila! Two weeks later, I had myself a full-fledged relationship with the greatest distance between us being the freshman quad. Does this sort of event happen outside of the college bubble? Eh, perhaps, but those people are generally crazy and shouldn't be trusted (just kidding...sorta). The truth is -- it doesn't -- and it's even worse when recent grads don't know where to begin. We haven't had to participate in the dating dance that post-grad life requires in order to meet a new person. Heck, you don't even really need to put that much effort into meeting someone and getting a phone number when you're in college. Chances are, you're already Facebook friends with that pseudo-hipster who just hit on you at the dining hall.

What's a gal to do when she finds herself with a lack of tricks up her sleeve, ill-equipped to handle the challenges that come with actually needing to engage in awkward small talk and make a move on a guy at a bar/concert/bookstore/anywhere? While I am by no means an expert in dating (although, I have had my fair share of meet cutes -- more on that another time), I suppose I can outline a few tips for the especially hopeless.

• Get used to making small talk with strangers: I get that this can be extremely uncomfortable for self-proclaimed introverts and people who lack social skills. However, if you want to meet people, you're going to have to talk to them. Unfortunately, most people don't possess telepathic powers, and therefore, you are going to have to resort to old-fashioned face-to-face conversation.

• Just start talking about anything... relevant: My general strategy for starting conversations with people is to be opportunistic. I have started many a conversation with someone while standing at a bar -- you're there getting drinks as are they (presumably), and while you're waiting for the bartender to get you that  embarrassing pink drink you just ordered, you might as well chat someone up. Case in point, I was standing at a bar once to order a drink and the guy next to me said that he had been there longer than me. Being the sassy gal that I am, I decided to respond with a simple "I bet you he'll serve me first," which opened the flood gates. Comment on his drink, the fact that he's double-fisting two Cosmos, or even that Psy's "Gangnam Style" is on and some old creepy guy is attempting to dance to it -- anything. If he wishes to engage in this interaction, he will. If he doesn't want to? You're already drinking -- order yourself another one and move on.

• Don't take everything so seriously - this is dating, not a colonoscopy: I've heard the same complaints from my friends: "But dating can be so awkward!" They then proceed to pick out several outfits, over-analyze text messages and revert to 7th grade ways (i.e. "So, I saw this guy I liked. I think he's cute. He smiled at me the other day, but then today he didn't say hi or even look at me. Why didn't he say hi to me today?!" or better yet, "I can't talk to him first. Maybe I should chat with him on Facebook instead?") Let's be real, ladies and gentleman, dating is supposed to be fun. If someone likes you, great! If not, whatever, who's next (new blog title?!). Not everyone is going to like you, but when you find someone that does, don't stress out about it. There's nothing worse than someone who's got sweat stains BEFORE the date even begins.  Relax. Have fun. Remember what a date actually is? Oh, you don't? Well, let me tell you...Prior to a date, both parties have, to a certain extent, expressed romantic interest in the opposing party. When this interest is made clear, a date is planned, and both parties attend the date in order to gain more information to determine whether subsequent dates should follow (as deemed necessary) and also to determine whether this opposing party could be a potential match for a romantic relationship. You go on your first date, and if you both have fun and want to know more about the other person, you go on a second date (novel idea, right?) If the second date isn't as successful, you don't go on a third date. If the second date is successful, you go on a third date. Revolutionary -- lather, rinse, repeat = relationship. It doesn't need to be so gosh darn stressful. I get that feelings can muddy things (damn those emotions), but you need to keep things in perspective. If you adopt a relatively carefree attitude, you won't come off as desperate, needy and flat-out annoying. Would you want to date someone who  exhibited any of those qualities? No. (Sorry, no offense)

• Go on a real date: This is probably most important for people making the dating transition from college to real life (yes -- REAL LIFE). A real date does not include (and is not limited to): group outings, sitting in at someone's parents' house watching TV, Skype, etc. The point of a date is to evaluate this person's compability with you. You need to go out (just you two) somewhere that enables you to learn about the other person. Whether this learning experience happens over dinner and a movie, rock-climbing, attending a concert, going to a museum -- I don't care! There just needs to be the opportunity for good old-fashioned getting to know each other. Yes, a date can happen at a bar, but I would say that it is helpful to be able to hear what the other person is saying. A successful date occurs when you are able to go home later that night, know the person's last name, and know something about the type of person you just spent the last X hours with: what their interests are, what some of their goals are, what they like/dislike, their blood type (just kidding, don't ask them that) -- essentially, what makes them tick. What do you need to know about a person to determine whether you want to spend more time with them or not; whether you like them or not? Figure those things out, and then find it out on your date. It doesn't need to be philosophical, but go somewhere and do something that will reveal more about the person you've decided to go out with.

• You are a pretty cool person, and if someone doesn't want to date you, so be it: Of course, this is far easier said than done, but essentially, why waste your time with someone who doesn't recognize that you're an amazing person just as you are? The world's population is inching closer and closer to seven billion people every day (I just Googled it to double check), and you're hung up on ONE person who "is just not that into you"? You don't have time for that. You're too busy being awesome. Move on and find someone cuter (or maybe just more compatible).

There you have it. Some of the basics for post-grad life according to someone who has been unsuccessful in love thus far (eh, actually, that's debatable -- ask my boyfriend?). Maybe that diminishes all of my credibility -- but does it, really? I've been on countless dates, good and bad, but the fact is, I have dated outside of college. I've done it. It's worked! Eureka! What's even more miraculous about all of this? Despite some of the failed dates, missed connections, breakups and what have you, I still live to tell the tale -- and the thing is, you will too. So even if you have a bad date, keep trucking along. Eventually it will work out.

Eventually.

Wisdom from Sex and the City?

One of my favorite TV shows of all time is, without a doubt, Sex and the City. The fashion, the strong women, the insight into relationships, the fashion... All of it definitely strikes a chord and, owning all of the seasons, I find myself watching each episode over and over again with my love for it never tiring.

With this obsession also comes a pocket of SATC knowledge, tucked away in my mind, always popping up at random times and offering its wisdom to me. The other day I had been thinking about my job search and how I haven't had much activity regarding interviews or callbacks, and then it took me back to one episode (can't remember which one) where Carrie makes the insight that "all you need to get a date is another one." Just as she got one date, she was suddenly presented with another male suitor and another option. In my own dating experience, I do find this to be true -- that you'll have a period without any dates, and then suddenly, not only do you get asked out by one guy, but then there's another one that's showing interest and making moves. In an instant, you go from zero options to multiple ones.

I think that this is a possibility for the job hunt as well. I've been applying pretty much anywhere and everywhere -- full-time jobs and part-time jobs in a variety of fields -- and sooner or later, someone is going to call back or request an interview. Recently, I applied for a retail position and was called in not just for an initial interview, but for a second one as well this Monday, which just so happens to be the same day I have a lunch meeting with someone from another company I applied to. For a while, I thought my biggest problem would be finding somewhere to hire me, and now I'm realizing that I might have to consider what to do if I receive offers for employment at more than one company or if I take a job at one place, and then get offered a better position somewhere else.

It always seems to work that way, though. That you go through a discouraging period of zero dates or bad dates or dates you think are dates, but end up not being dates...And then all of a sudden, you're juggling a few dating options. A degree of patience is key, obviously, but I think it also has to do with a state of mind: trying not to let discouragement get the best of you, staying hopeful, and most importantly, staying confident. I think it works the same way with the job hunt, you go through that discouraging period of zero interviews, bad interviews or interviews that you think went well, but end up without a job offer, and then suddenly, all of those applications you submitted earlier are yielding results and you now have to decide what direction you want to head in.

At least, I'm hoping that this bit of Sex and the City wisdom might ring true for my job hunt. I guess after my Monday full of meetings and interviews I will at least have a reason to be hopeful or to continue to persevere.