On my birthday, she bought me brunch and came back to my place and we were kissing and lightly “petting.” Now, when I get intimate, I get very serious, passionate, focused — I am totally in my body and not my head (where I am usually) — I go from being Ben Stiller-y to Bill Hurt in Body Heat in seconds.

And she kept making these comments that felt like she was punching my boner in the face (I would lose it).

Trying to engage her (she didn’t seem to be into making out in general), I said: “Do I still look good above you?” (She told me that the week before — a very rare sexual, loving thing she said — maybe the only thing in 5 dates)

Many ways to answer this — “Uh-huh” “Better” “Of course” “Always” “Sure” “Yep”

Hers: “Duh, I told you that last week!” — Bam! There goes my boner again….out cold on the canvas….ten, nine, eight…

After my therapy on Monday (where I talked about my concerns about her and my therapist wasn’t feeling her / us as couple at all), I get a text from her saying she is going to go out of town, but would like to see me before she goes.

I text back — That was a really nice text to get – I’m busy Tues, but the rest are free.

She texts back: Why do you always seem so surprised when I say or do something nice? I certainly have my flaws but I am a very nice person.

Ugh. This is exhausting. And it’s only date 5. I’m really close to throwing in the towel….

…and….that night it ended.

She called later and I told her I sent a text that says we shouldn’t communicate via text anymore (which she didn’t receive actually) and then we were chatting — it’s a little awkward but okay and was telling a story and then imitated some guy in the story with a funny voice and she interrupts and says (sarcastically): “That voice really turns me on.”

I snapped.

And snapped at her.

“I’m sorry that voice doesn’t turn you on — that’s how I talk, how I express myself sometimes. If you don’t like it, you don’t have to go out with me anymore.”

BAM! CUT AND RUN DAVE does it again! Well, to be fair, I was trying hard (probably too hard) to make this thing work with this girl — she liked me and was nice in many ways (picked up a check, bought me a B-Day lunch), but we were out of sync on two main core issues — communication and physically (that will be a future blog post)

Postscript: I got a text from her about a day or two later (ANOTHER TEXT — Jesus! I’d rather get an e-mail from her on Match.com) that said: I re-read your text and I realized that I did read something into it that wasn’t there. I’m sorry. If you still want to spend time together let me know. If not, I understand and wish you the best.

I recently had a handful of dates (five!) with someone I met about 2, 3 weeks ago…she was petite, cute in a Plain Jane / mousey way, my age, had a normal job with normal hours, lived close enough, really good on paper.

And really good in person — we had a great first date — almost 2 hours long and she was pretty quick — we had nice banter and some good laughs.

I like a sharp girl, a little bit of snark — perfect for a first date. Keeps things lively. But we had some real talk about real things too so it was a nice balance.

The Snarky Redhead and I had that too (and look how that turned out). But this girl seemed nicer — seemed to have (and does have) a big heart.

But it became evident that the snark was overwhelming the ‘heart.’

The snarky comments began to get tiresome — and snarky texts really, really annoying.

Example: My b-day was coming up and she texted me “what’s your favorite food?”

I wrote back: “Hmmm…maybe ceviche?”

Her reply: “Ceviche? Really? That’s your favorite food? That’s the food you’d eat every day if you were trapped on a desert island?”

I was expecting that she was going to offer to take me to a ceviche place or offer to make it for me and this just put a bad taste in my mouth like when you drink from a carton and you think it’s milk, but then it’s O.J.

You like O.J., but your senses were rattled by the switch out. Getting this put me off a bit. It didn’t FEEL good.

I didn’t reply.

Then she got annoyed I didn’t reply and we had a talk about it.

Okay, good — we were communicating — I’m saying I don’t like to get snarky, negative texts for no reason and I need more heart and less snark. She said she’s both but will try and show more heart.

But it continued. (to be cont.)

About a year ago, my Relationship Healer asked me something that made my mind feel like it was splitting in half.

“David, when did you feel / decide you needed to be funny instead of just . . . BEING?”

Once the room came back into focus, I could even point to an exact date, years earlier, right after a couple relationships crumbled back to back and my ego crumbled along with it.

And it was shortly after these emotional earthquakes, I decided I was going to be “The Funny Guy.” That was going to be my ‘way in’ with women and that’s what you hear all the time, right? Women want a funny guy, right? A man with a sense of humor, right?

It’s one of those myths you just latch on to as a child and it stays inside of you, telling you a lie that has nothing to do with the real world.

Looking back, when I met other girl’s boyfriends in college and in my 20′s (and later), they weren’t funny at all — in fact, they often tended to be the opposite, these hulking, monosyllabic lugs. Not only did these lugs not seem to be funny, they didn’t seem to have much charisma or social skills at all.

What they had was confidence, a grounded-ness, the essence of an immovable object – they probably didn’t take shit, maybe had a temper, probably didn’t court these girls with homemade gifts or flowers or letters in the mail — when they met them, they probably didn’t have a “like-me-love me-like me-please-please-please-do-you-like-me-now?” vibe which I had until, well, sadly, not that long ago.

They probably had masculine dads, older brothers, coaches, maybe was used to getting body-slammed during football games and knocked unconscious – maybe so getting turned down by a pretty girl didn’t seem that horrible or scary. Maybe they “walked it off” when they got rejected and didn’t give that rejection a second thought and moved on to another girl/game.

They probably had a purpose that wasn’t meeting women or making them laugh or wasn’t trying to fill a bottomless hole inside them with female approval.

If they got dumped by their girlfriend, they might have been annoyed about it for a few days, instead of letting it ruin (and taint) the next 5 to 10 years of their life.

You know who’s not funny? Brad Pitt, Michael Fassbender, Ryan Gosling, Steve McQueen, Don Draper. (admittedly, George Clooney and Alec Baldwin are).

And try and complete this sentence with the following: “OMG, I soooo want ______________________ to grab me, kiss me, throw me down on the bed and have his way with me.” (Mike Myers, Dana Carvey, Michael Cera, Ben Stiller, Seth Rogan, Jason Segal, Jonah Hill, Louis C.K., Chris Rock).

Do you have a case of The “Pricklies”?

This term came to me while watching “Tough Love: New Orleans” and more specifically, one of the women, Donna.

Donna is a perfect example of a Prickly Girl — someone who is easily turned off by most men and most men’s appearances, senses of humor, opinions, interests, etc. Pretty much anything not only turns her off, but she will react with a weird hyper-sensitivity to the things they don’t like about a guy.

If you told a bad joke, mispronounced a word, didn’t open her door fast enough or made a harmless sexual reference, The Prickly Girl will react like she was assaulted.

They tend to get AGHAST! at very minor things guys do and take them as deep personal slights.

Her date didn’t wash his car before he picked her up — AGHAST! How dare he disrespect her like that (he probably meant to, just forgot and didn’t realize it until he approached his car to go on the date). He let the bill sit on the table for 10 minutes before he got it — AGHAST! He didn’t offer to pay for her valet (but everything else) – AGHAST!

Basically they have a weird, archaic Rule Book in their head a guy will break through the course of an evening.

Tough Love’s Donna was on a date with an average-looking guy and she said “I looked at his hands and I couldn’t imagine those hands on my breasts” (His hands were probably fine) and when he went to get the food, she had to compose herself TO KEEP FROM CRYING. And she’s FORTY.

(Oh yeah, she forgot his name, btw — his FIRST NAME — and it was their 2nd date)

An ex-friend of mine — the one who dropped a DOCTOR because he couldn’t give her script notes was / is a perfect example of The Prickly Girl. (See 1st blog post).

I’m convinced an author of a very popular book about single women is one (She might even admit this. Maybe). She refused to date a guy because he wore bowties in a few of his Match.com pictures (and later was charmed by the reasons why he wore them).

Pricklies will always be single. No one — I repeat, NO ONE, will measure up to the imaginary guy they have in their heads.

Jerry Seinfield (the character on the show) is probably a Male Prickly — he would obsess over small details / quirks about a girl and eventually dump them over it (The Two Face, one pea at time girl, Man Hands, girl who always wore same outfit, etc.) Except Jerry wouldn’t break into a sweat and cry because the other person was, well, a real life human with their own quirks (he just would dump them).

Recently I went out with a very striking woman (who found ME on Facebook and tracked me down) who refused a date with me (we were with another person at an art show) who sorta kinda later admitted that she didn’t go out with me because of the way I cut my appetizer into small bites and because there was crumpled dollar bills in my pants.

She felt QUOTE “maybe you are just a little tightly wound.” When I pressed her for details, as I felt very relaxed and loose that evening: “I felt a general sense of tension within…little things that may indicate how someone feels about themselves….a posture, and ease or dis-ease..” (The only examples she could point to was the cutting of my chicken and the crumpled bills — not like I yelled at the waiter or anything.)

She’s 42. Single.

Prickly, prickly.

It’s funny I haven’t written about this earlier….

As a 5’7 guy, I realize I am probably limited in my dating pool.

I imagine if I was 5’10 (or even put 5’10 in my profile), it’s likely my response rate would be higher. I would have probably been more successful at singles events, where often I am one of the shorter / shortest guys. Hey, if I was placed in a room of mostly slender women, I would probably gravitate towards of any of them than the 2 heavier girls if I had that choice. Or a roomful of busty women vs. the two flat-chested women. I totally get it.

As it is, I have (currently) a 1 in 4 Match.com response rate (for e-mails, that doesn’t mean getting a number or date), so I have little to complain about. That’s probably much higher than the average.

And I have dated / gone on dates with women my height or taller. Physically (or otherwise), it hasn’t been an issue. (My sister-in-law might be 3 inches taller than my brother — without heels — but they met when he was in a rock band…)

It does make my head want to explode when I see a woman who is 5’1 put 5’11 as her MINIMUM guy height (Come on, Ladies — and Carrie — this must make you crazy too — they are fishing from the pool you need!!!). Even in her tallest heels, a 5’8 dude will be taller than she is.

Last night I ‘winked’ at someone on e-harmony who is 5’8. She winked back. In a note I sent, I clarified that I am 5’8 in shoes and 5’7 soaking wet. (Putting that I am 5’8 is my only fudge on my profiles — when I show up on a date, technically I am 5’8. I only mention the discrepancy if the woman is taller, where that 1 inch might make a difference.)

She wrote back saying that might be an issue as she is 5’11 in heels.

Then, later that night, I had an epiphany.

Women want their men taller or as tall as them in heels. I get that. But why? Because it LOOKS BETTER. It’s more aesthetically pleasing. Meaning, they want men to go with what they are wearing like a fashion accessory.

I would even say that you want the guy to be taller when you dance, but women often take their shoes off to dance (do they during a slow dance?).

Why can’t I wear lifts when you want to wear heels? No one would know and me being an “accessory” would match.

A guy wrote a great article which has been taken down called “Do Single Women Love Heels More Than They Love Love?” — the website is down but here is a link to the Facebook excerpt of it.

http://www.facebook.com/note.php?note_id=10150303327329341

As an ex told me, “Dating is about going out, relationships are about staying in.” (She is now engaged to a great, stand-up, sweet guy prob. exactly her height)

And having been in a few relationships, there is more staying in than going out — more dinner cooking, reality TV show watching, movie / DVD watching, more hiking, farmer market visits — much less times she is in 4″ inch heels.

So the 2X a MONTH we go out to a nice restaurant or wedding or an event, why couldn’t some dude do the SAME EXACT THING YOU are and be artificially taller? And be a great guy who listens and fulfills you emotionally and sexually the other 90% of time being almost the same height?

It seems to make more sense to find a great guy you can make TALLER a couple of times a month then finding a tall guy / a certain height want to match you fashion-wise who is funny, sexy, responsible, smart, stable, etc…..

Nicole Kidman once cracked when splitting with Tom Cruise, “Now I can wear heels” (Actually, she always wore heels when with him, but whatever…) — and who did she marry next? A GUY THE SAME DAMN HEIGHT as Cruise (Keith Urban is 5.8ish).

I go out on a lot of first dates and I only ask out a few for a 2nd. I’m sure a lot of women have thought, “Oh, I thought we had a good time — I don’t get it….”

1. You Date-And-Switched-Me: You were deceiving with your pictures, mainly about a body part you wanted to downplay, most often a giant booty. Or bad teeth. I recognize the signs now — hiding behind friends in group photos, holding a coat in front of your frame, weird angles (from high above). And the multiple pictures of you smiling the Dustin Hoffman smile in close ups and ONE open mouthed smile, but a block away. Or you showed up with a pixie cut after your pics all have long hair.

2. You were really attractive — maybe even out of my league — but I didn’t see us as a couple. Mainly, because it felt at the end of the hour, we had exhausted the conversation. At minute 65 we would just be staring at each other. And day 65. Just not enough in common — enough to get us through a handful of e-mails, a 15 minute phone call and a 30 – 60 minute face to face, but then it just fell apart (for me). Our relationship had a 60-80 minute shelf-life.

3. You tapped out – You were so disappointed with me that you just went catatonic, stared at the table, muscled through the 30 – 60 minutes, answered in short answers, refused to verbally participate. It was like being on a date with Robert DeNiro in AWAKENINGS. You didn’t want me to ask you again anyway.

4. You openly didn’t give a shit – The woman who dressed for the gym (see previous post), the woman who met me while walking her dog; you dressed so causally it looked like you were going to mow the lawn — I could have been your future husband and you treated it as if I was just an errand you had to run on a Saturday.

5. You were nice and cute, but I didn’t see us kissing or getting passionate. When I tried to think about that, it was like trying to tune into a radio station that was out of range and all I got was static.

6. You smelled funny. I’m going to write a separate post just about this soon — You didn’t smell BAD, our chemistries didn’t mix (or you were wearing Patchouli oil or some Hippie shit). It hit me as soon as we hugged — you smelled OFF. Not bad, but off. Musky. I don’t know — I had a fun time with you and I loved your look, but my DNA was screaming “Nooooooooooooooo! Not this one!”

7. We kissed and….NOTHING. This is related to number 6 — I kissed you — maybe for a long while — and I felt NOTHING. No spark, no tingles, no erection. This is frustrating because I really liked you — and your look — but the chemistry isn’t there. It was like kissing a piece of paper.

8. You didn’t look as good as your pictures. You didn’t deceive me on purpose, but the pictures weren’t a good representation and you are probably unaware that you don’t look like the pictures you posted from your Mexico trip 3 years ago. Perhaps you’ve had some hardships (divorce, death of a parent, lost your house) and it shows, but in your mind you still think you look like you did only two years ago. Or there were things I didn’t notice / couldn’t have noticed — bad skin, an unusual amount of peach fuzz, looked older, grey-er, heavier.

9. You didn’t shut up. You might have had Aspergers (see previous post).

10. Bad breath – I have an earlier post about this — but this just assaults most of my senses. I remember I went out with a stunning, curvy Persian girl (who actually went into shut down mode — see #3) who’s breath was so bad, I had to keep myself from gagging and all the while imagined acid was being misted on the right side of my face as we talked.

10. A combo of any of the above.

I’m a little self-conscious about posting since that Mystery Reader e-mail — the self-fulfilling prophesy and all. I’m going to try and write about universal themes (and maybe even some non-dating stories), rather than more ‘then-this-lady-done-me-wrong’ tales.

The Art of The Cold Call

When you make or receive a call from someone you met an online dating site, this is a very tricky and delicate proposition.

Some suggestions:

• Don’t take the call if you are busy and then act annoyed when you discover it’s just some guy from a dating site you happened to volunteer your number to.
• Some suggestions of when not to pick up (actual examples) when you don’t recognize the name / number: While you are picking up your dog’s poop, on a bike with your friends, at the ICU with your dying mother, in the shower (I’m talking to you, girl who was in the movie CLUELESS), driving your dying dog to get chemo (woman who wrote a very famous rom-com they run on TBS every 5 minutes), making a deadline at work, in a car with your girlfriend/s.
• Try and sound pleased I called…and not annoyed.
• If I catch you at a bad time, please say so instead of muscling through the phone call.
• Don’t MULTI-TASK — and if you are, do it quietly (paint your nails vs. putting dishes away, rearranging your closet, packing for a trip, cooking something complicated, pumping gas, ordering coffee, driving in heavy rain (“OMG, I almost hit that guy”), babysitting young children)
• Have something to say. Don’t rely on me to keep our talk afloat. “So, what else?” is not a good icebreaker. Sometimes I feel like I’m giving CPR to a conversation.

Because as I’ve learned in close to 300 dates, if the phone sucks, the in-person will blow too.

Two interesting things happened in the last two days — two incidents where I expressed my displeasure about someone’s dating behavior — TO THEM (and not to this blog or 3 of my friends).

I usually let these kind of things slide and take the high road and go out in a way I think is classy. (“I will not dignify that with a response, ma’am!”). Plus, there’s sooooooooooo much bad behavior and my job is not to be Dating Infraction Cop — I’ve got too much other things to do and pursue other good “leads” to be concerned with having the last word.

And also I never want come across as “The Angry, Burned Guy” and give Match.com and guys dating online a bad name.

But Carrie and my BFF Mindy and two particularly outrageous acts inspired me in the last 48 hours.

1st STORY:

An attractive woman e-mails ME on Match.com. Her headline “Warm and Kind.” Nice profile. Great pictures / great look. Lives nearby in Santa Monica. We e-mail back and forth for 1.5 weeks or so. She VOLUNTEERS her number. I e-mail and say I will call that evening. At 10:30  I write and apologize for it slipping my mind and I will call the next day. She writes back ‘no prob’ and gives me a specific time to call (after 6) where I will have quote “her undivided attention” (she is driving to the desert). I call at 6:15 and it goes to VM. AND SHE DOESN’T CALL ME BACK the whole night.

Alright, maybe that was bad timing, phone died, whatever. She calls days later (and I think she called during lunch even saying something like “Ohhh, maybe you are out at lunch”) and tells me to call again, a specific time and day. That day and time comes and AGAIN, RIGHT TO VM and no returned phone call. AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

Okay, I’m done. This is stupid.

Then last night (maybe 6 days after the last attempt), I was looking at my diminishing “prospects” and thought, hmmmm, maybe I should try her one more time. She was really cute. I call at 6:30 and GET HER (OMG!)

ME: Julienne?

HER: David?

She sounds taken off guard — I don’t think she meant to pick it up and prob. looked the caller ID quickly.

ME: Yes, hey — did I catch you at a bad time?

HER: Yes, I’m still at work — can I ring you in 45 minutes?

ME: Sure, of course. I’ll be here.

45 minutes comes and goes. THREE FUCKING HOURS LATER (after I called, 2 hours fifteen after the 45 minutes) at 9:30 the phone rings while I’m on with Mindy — I click over and it’s a TEXT TO LANDLINE MESSAGE.

ROBOT VOICE: Sorry-David-I-forgot-I-had-dinner-with-a-girlfriend-can-I-call-you-after?

Okay, this is a steaming pile of bullshit on so many levels. At 6:30 you forgot you had dinner with a friend? And if this lie WAS TRUE, you couldn’t call me in the car on the way? Or text this pathetic lie at 7:00? Or even 8? And like she’s really going to call at 10? Like she’s still at dinner at 9:30?

Mindy says “Text back ‘Don’t bother.’”

ME: It’s not me right? She’s playing games, right? I am nuts?

MINDY: She’s playing games. I know — ’cause I’ve been HER.

So I text back on my cell: “It’s okay, don’t bother, good luck, David.”

THEN MILI-SECONDS LATER A RESPONSE:

“Wow, I was totally wrong about you. Thought you were easy going. Good luck to you. Sounds like you’re the one who needs it.”

I so wanted to write back: Say hi to your imaginary friend for me. Mindy says in a few weeks she’ll wonder if you were ‘The One who got away.’

I had a e-harm date on Sunday which annoyed me a few levels.

First off, we had a lovely chat, she was a striking redhead (in her photos), a therapist, a good listener, good laugher. I was looking forward to it.

I call a few hours earlier to confirm we are still on. No response. (We had made the date the day before).

20 minutes before 3, I text “Heading out now” (no response).

Luckily, the coffee shop was no more than a 5 minute drive. It might have been 4. So if she stood me up, I could get back home pretty quick.

She shows up (on time) and she is dressed for the gym — jogging / workout outfit, big, Jackie O sunglasses, a big baseball hat (the kind you get free at charity event — it was even autographed by someone), running sneakers, no make up, all her lovely hair tucked under the cap.

Meanwhile, I’m wearing a banana republic sweater, dark new Levis, John Varvatos shoes, I shaved, I have stuff in my hair.

It made me feel that she DIDN’T GIVE A SHIT. Didn’t do a damn thing with her hair, didn’t put even lip gloss on. It made me feel not worth 3 minutes of prep. Hell, a nice blouse and nice jeans — even flip flops would have been okay.

Oh, and she NEVER took off the sunglasses. (I suggested it, but she refused)

She was gorgeous (under all the workout-I-don’t-care) and we had a nice time (and a great talk the night before), but she shook my hand and told me to “enjoy the book” I had with me as we parted.

She’s not on board, right?

At the end of the date with the girl I’ll call “The Kid”, we hugged / kissed on the cheek and she walked off to her bike. When we hugged / kissed it lingered for a second too long and it felt electric.

I thought about her for a few days. Was that an act? Some kind of dating performance piece? And God, that body. And she was the perfect height for me — maybe 5’2.

I decided to throw some bait in the water and see what would happen.

I e-mailed her on e-harm and just wrote “Wanna come over and watch Meerkat Manor sometime?”

After a couple days, she replied: “I would love that.”

Okay, maybe she was “with it” after all — what 38 year old doesn’t know the subtext of “Come over and watch ________.”

***

It took of bit of time to arrange this — I almost thought she was going to bail. Then on the phone, she’s like “I don’t have a car.”

“Oh, okay. I can go there. Do you have a DVD player?”

“My roommates do.”

“Roommates?”

“Yes, I have two. So what’s your address — I’m ready with a pen.”

“But I’m coming over there — I need your address.”

“Oh, right. It’s ______________.”

***

I arrive at her apartment — a large 3 bedroom in a old building near Fairfax and Beverly. She’s lovingly set up snacks on a coffee table in front of a TV.

Her roommate, a bearded dude in his 30′s, a younger version of The Dude came out in flip flops with his dog and set up the DVD for us, giving me a big, hard shake.

Meanwhile, my brain is screaming: This is weird! get out! Oh yeah, there was a parrot in a cage in the living room where we were, squawking “Hello!” and pooping loudly (splat! onto newspaper) every so often.

Then, for the next 90 minutes, we watch Meerkat Manor. Maybe 4 episodes.

And she’s really into it. I kind of vanished into the woodwork, even though we were about an inch from each other. The entire time I kept trying to figure out if she was developmentally challenged. Seriously. The little hands, the little face, her kid reactions, slow to get jokes.

At the 90 minutes mark, I announce I gotta go. She walks me to the TV where I retrieve the disc and then KISS HER.

AND WHILE WE KISS, SHE DOESN’T OPEN HER MOUTH.

I’m open mouth kissing her un-opened mouth. And she KEEPS HER MOUTH CLOSED. She might not know how to kiss. How is this possible?

At some point, I massage her jaw like I’m trying to get a dog to release a bone and she opens her mouth and we kiss. Her little mouth was so small, I felt my tongue run across the roof of her inner mouth.

When I stop kissing her, she looks down at the ground / her feet. We resume kissing.

She suddenly stops kissing me. “What are you doing for Passover?”

“What? Does it matter right now?”

We go back to kissing. Then stop. Still standing up. She wouldn’t let us sit down on the couch.

“I love your nose,” she says suddenly.

“Really? Why?” I had never heard this before.

“It’s SO BIG!” She says this like a kid — not realizing it’s an insult. Like when a kid says “You’re fat” to a lady on a bus.

“It’s not really — it actually fits the shape of my face — it’s just shaped like a potato.”

After about 10 minutes of kissing standing up, I go.

And once I’m outside, it occurs to me, “Oh, she just doesn’t have a car — SHE CAN’T DRIVE.” Like doesn’t have the motor skills / can’t pass the test. She might also be a virgin.

And I feel terrible for going down this selfish road.