I'm Just Giving The Dog A Bone: The Men's Guide To Flirting

So you think you can flirt, huh? I have news for you, buddy-- you can always improve on that game, and just like how you begged until your parents sent you to basketball camp in middle school so that you could improve that 3-point shot of yours, I'm here by popular demand to tell you where you're slacking on the job while trying to pick up chicks. So, here it is, 5 quick, easy tips for sneakily getting on the better, phone-number-giving side of the fairer sex. Use them for good, my boys, not evil. After all-- Gandalf is watching.

- Be Aggressive, B.E AGGRESSIVE:

This is the cautionary tale of one would-be suitor gone horrible wrong:

Sometimes, being aggressive is a good thing, like in rugby and fencing and chess and discount sales in Filene's Basement. But sometimes, it's not. Persistence isn't always the best tactic. One over-enthusiastic gent tracked me down on Facebook-- and Twitter. He tried friending me-- 3 times in 2 days when I didn't accept fast enough for his liking. He messaged me. He poked me. It was the electronic equivalent of a grade-school kid standing on his blue plastic chair, waving his arms over his head, screaming, "Pick me! Pick me! Pick me!" I still haven't accepted his request. Why? Because there's aggressive, and then there's AGGRESSIVE. And...desperation has never been sexy. Doesn't matter if you're XY or XX-- it's a big NO, and the reek of it permeates everything you do. We will know when you're desperate. Your friends, parents, coworkers, classmates, postal worker, hair dresser, and the entirety of Facebook will know when you are desperate. It shows. So get a leash on that beast. Down, boy.

- "E" Is For Effort. Also, Egotistical Eunuchs End Up Eating Alone:

I've had guys tell me, "Come down to see me when you're on your break." This is bad. If you're the one who wants to see me, then you can come to me. A girl with options never goes out of her way for a man; she'll let him come to her, if he wants to. Nothing tells a girl faster if a guy is really serious about her or not by how much effort he puts into seeing her. And by this age, we girls should have stopped being delusional and making excuses for lazy asses and should know how much effort shown constitutes a viable man and a viable relationship. I know. If it isn't calling, isn't visiting, isn't writing, and isn't planning, it ain't yo' boyfran, gurrrrrrl. And kind sirs, if you are not actively walking your ass over to see her, she's going to find someone else who WILL, because she ain't that desperate yet for yo' lazy ass. Again, desperation is never sexy.

- You're QUALITY, Not QUANTITY: 

Always remember: A little goes a long way, if your "little"-- time, effort, energy, affection, money, passion-- is quality. I've always preferred my men a little aloof-- it helps keep the magic going. My last S.O waited until Date #5 to finally kiss me; the entirety of dates 1-4 I was constantly wondering what was going on, and the anticipation made me sparkle even more than the average girl trying to look good on a date does because I kept working for it. But the long-awaited kiss was so good, it was worth the wait. And you know what? All that time spent in good, intelligent conversation, learning each other's likes and dislikes, food and movie preferences before swapping spit made us both sure that we liked the other-- more than just a first date could have foreseen. They were quality dates. It was a quality first kiss. We were sure that the other was a quality person. Much better than a really awkward make-out session straddling the cup-holders in his car's front seat post first-date beers would have been. A win all-around.

- How To Scabbard Your Sword-- What Women Want:

Sorry, this isn't about sex. I just thought that play on words would grab your attention for what will probably be for most of you the hardest concept to grasp. (Unlike grasping other things.) This is about what all women want. This is the secret that lands the nerdy guys the perfect 10s. This is the Rosetta Stone for understanding women. Cracking this is like cracking a Rubix Cube. So I don't want to have to sit here and waits through eons of evolution for you guys to finally get it. Which is why I'm just going to come right out and say it to you:

Women just want to be saved. Or, at the very least, we want a partner in crime.

You know how in Million Dollar Baby, Hillary Swank kicked major ass? It was because Clint Eastwood was there in her corner, and he had her back. All women want a knight...white, black, red, or purple, it doesn't matter to us. What matters is that we all want a champion— someone who is willing to go forth and do battle for us, whether it’s getting us that extra dollar off our soft pretzel at the mall that the salesgirl somehow forgot to credit us, or sticking up to other people to defend us. Because we’re worth it. As Frances Hodgson Burnett wrote, every girl is a princess, whether she looks like it or acts like it or not. If I do something, if I say something, you best believe I do it with 110% conviction, and all I want— and what I deserve— is to have someone there who will stand next to me and uphold those words and those actions.

This is where a guy riding up on his high horse comes in. I don’t need to be questioned anymore. I shouldn’t have to explain myself. What I want, what I need-- what all women need-- is someone as strong and courageous and faithful as I am to stand next to me and be there for me to lean on when I’m too tired to lead the charge, and have them stand up to the job. So be a stand-up guy. If you say something, follow through. Never make any promises you can't keep; don't lie. If you know something wrong is happening, stop it. If you see something unfair, call people on it. In return, I promise that any woman worth that title and her salt will be doing the same for you, because if you have my back, and I have yours, nothing in life will ever be able to sneak up on us and scare the crap out of us. THAT is what women find most sexy of all-- reliability, safety, and partnership.

- Getting The Big N.O, or, Failure For Champions:

Then again, you could do everything right and still be turned down. It's a woman's prerogative to be fickle. Maybe she's just gotten out of a bad relationship, or isn't over her ex yet. Maybe she's interested in someone else and doesn't want to lead you on and waste your time. Maybe you're just not her "type"...you can't help that, but chances are you definitely will be someone else's. Or maybe she's just enjoying being single right now, and doesn't want to think about getting involved with men or dating. But don't let this dissuade you from trying again with a different girl-- practice makes perfect, after all. Take a page from the Casanova-like diaries of the men I met while I was in Italy-- with all the "ciao, bella"-ing that was going on, and all the flat-out rejections from those "bella"s, I thought it was a wonder any Italians ever managed to procreate. But as my Food and Wine professor told his class of 18 American girls, "If you say it enough times, someone is bound to say 'ciao' back." That's how he landed his American wife while she was studying abroad. See? It works. If Giancarlo could do it, I have faith that you can, too. Now, get out there, and be someone's knight in shining armor. Or, at least, take you car through the car wash and go pay for the cute lady in front of you's espresso at the coffee shop tomorrow morning.

Buona fortuna!

XOXO

First Right Of Refusal

I recently sold my horse. It was EASILY the hardest decision of my life; for those of you non-horsey people out there, imagine it feeling as it would be like to give up a 7 year old child. It was the right thing for me to do at this point in my life, financially, but about the only thing that made me actually go through with it instead of climbing on my mare's back and taking off into the sunset, neither of us to ever be seen again, was the fact that I was able to include a legally-binding buy-back clause in the ownership/sale agreement. This means, that if the barn were to ever sell her one day down the road, legally, they have to track me down and ask me if I want her back before they can offer her up for public sale. This is called the First Right of Refusal, and it is a lovely, wonderful thing.

Which is why I think it should be an unspoken agreement in all relationship stipulations.

Look, don't lie to us. You want to make things as painless as possible? Than tell us the truth, instead of a convenient cover, so we can skip the false hope, the anguish, the want, the heartbreak, and the loss, and skip right the fuck to hating you, get it out of our system faster, and over with, so we can dust ourselves off and move on with our lives. It's really the only humane thing to do. If you say, "I think I need some time on my own," please best believe that we'll be keeping a weather eye to make sure that you actually stay that way-- on your own-- for a while, like you told us you were going to. If you say, "Maybe sometime again later after I've had time," PLEASE, BEST BELIEVE that to us, that is like the First Right of Refusal. If we disband because YOU want some "alone time," you best believe that we fully intend to be the first woman tapped for duty when you get tired of playing by yourself. THAT is how women work. THAT is what we assume. When we say, "I'd like some strawberry jam on my toast, please, but no butter," what we mean is, "I'd like some strawberry jam on my toast, please, but for the love of god, if you bring the butter near me, I will CUT YOU," when what a MAN seems to mean when he says, "I'd like some strawberry jam, please, but no butter," is in his thinking, a politer way of saying, "Yeah, I'll take that toast with some strawberry jam, but later, I'm going to actually go back for that butter that you just offered me, because I was thinking about my body muscle index and I really do need to eat some more fat today before I hit the gym."

Woman: No butter means NO BUTTER.

Man: No butter means maybe I actually am going to have that butter, after all.

I can understand it is hard sometimes; life is confusing. I mean, hell, some mornings I wake up and have no clue where the fuck I am for the first 10 minutes that I'm barely cognizant. And there are some tough calls out there-- pay the heat bill, or the electric bill?-- that I thoroughly understand if they take you a while to work through. But let me break this down-- when you tell us you've thought long and hard and not taken anything lightly to reach a decision...you sure as HELL better follow through with that decision. To the T. Perfectly. Textbook-style. Like the lawyer who was holding our Terms of Sale agreement was keeping close tabs on you and your movements. Because in matters of love and relationships, that sale was not of a horse, as much as I have loved mine-- it was the sale of our heart.

XOXO

Life, Liberty, And The Pursuit Of A Relationship.

You do things for relationships that you normally wouldn't be caught dead doing, right? I mean, after all, we always hear about how "sacrifice" and "work" are the two hot-button words in the game of being a two-some. For some women, that means learning how many minutes are in a quarter of football (that's 15, if you were wondering,) and what player's names to scream at the TV. For others, it means learning how to dirty-talk, or indulging in that odd vinyl fetish. For me, it apparently means sacrificing life, limb, and new Urban Outfitters' dress. After watching a 20-something guy hammer a screwdriver into his motorcycle’s locked gas tank, I’m literally sitting here, writing this to you perched on top of an old black plastic milk crate, listening to a neighbor say “I took my dad’s bike to go meet my girlfriend in South Burlington; I met her in Kmart’s parking lot, ‘cause that’s where she was, Kmart…” Why? In the name of male bonding.

Now, there are three things I love, and three things I really, really love when in conjunction with each other: Men, beer, and oil grease. An elusive and usually sheltered sacred act, I found myself out of Burlington and in the wilds of Winooski after I was promised by the S.O some Steel Reserve and a chance to watch men physically pull apart a motorcycle; I jumped on that shit. But much like taking the pants off of a new beau after a Beergoogle Olympics night out at your local dive bar, I wasn’t ready for just how hairy things could get in a land where the Y chromosome had replaced a fun time for logic and was wailing away at a gas tank, cigarette dangling from lips. While any half-way intelligent person would be running for their life and diving behind the closest Jersey barrier, here I perch, on my milk crate, listening to four men talk about guns, bikes, engines, cigarettes, and penis length.

Well, maybe not penis length, but close enough. This could not get any manlier if Hulk Hogan suddenly showed up in a Ford F250 and promised to teach them all some top-secret wrestling moves and how to get into a scorecard girl’s booty shorts.

Any time when men and women coexist in a non-professional setting, a few differences between the genders become self-evident: 1.) Grooming techniques. 2.) Conversation topics. And 3.) What is really important and constitutes a good time. For women, these things include some strong drinks in martini glasses, the receipts from the last shopping trip’s spoils, and the latest gossip. For men, it seems to be beer, anything with an engine, and anything BUT gossip or recent headlines, possibly other than, “Did you hear about the Royal Wedding? Prince William—what a bitch now.” They ask about family, mutual friends, recent car accidents. They talk about the price of things—TVs, motorcycles, cars, cell phones. They compare the quality of beer, cigarettes, knives, bikes, cars, and housing. After three hours on this milk crate, I feel strongly in the validity of my statement when I say—men and women don’t like the same things. While my S.O and I both have subscriptions to GQ and I’ve watched him flip through the pages of my Cosmo, and we both have an affinity for expensive clothing and fine food, I have finally found an area in which I can’t follow him in—it seems to be, after all, a man’s world, and I suddenly feel like I should be asking if anyone wants me to make them a sandwich.

...Aaaaaaand my very white-collar boyfriend just craned his head around his shoulder, and spat. Oh yeah, Toto—we’re not in college or the Hill Section anymore. Time to get out of here.

XOXO

How To Not Meet The Parents

After over 6 years of dating, NUMEROUS relationships, and both some long and short distance flings, I have finally managed to stop dodging the bullet, and put my Big Girl Pants on and met a guy's mother. Mostly, I managed to accomplish this tremendous feat of chicken-shit-ness by either A.) Dating guys without parents (read: orphans, foster kids, or extremely independent children of nasty divorces who moved out early and aren't really "family guys"), B.) Dating guys whose family's live far enough away that it wasn't an issue or even topic to broach (read: Vermont to Virginia, hundreds of miles, etc.), or C.) Dating men who had no interest in either keeping me around long enough to deign meeting their parents a possibility, or dating guys who just didn't give a shit about the whole parent/family/girlfriend/girl-he's-sleeping-with equation. Mostly, it worked for me. The closest I actually ever came to suiting up for parental battle was agreeing to go to a potential dinner with TGIS's dad after we'd been together for 5 months, but mostly, that was because he was a foodie as well and I thought he and I would have no chance in hell that we WOULDN'T hit it off over our steak frites and vino.

Now, other than the occasional foodie daddy, I feel a couple ways about meeting parents, and in particular mothers, because when you think about it, fathers are just really grown up men, and I tend to do really well with men. We get each other. We have similar senses of humor. In general, I tend to know what a guy is looking for from me in terms of behavior, conversation, attitude, etc. Women, however, are a whole different barrel of slippery eels. Women are fickle, fickle creatures (and I should know, being one of them,) and if a woman decides she doesn't want to like you, not even an injunction from GOD is going to make her suddenly change her mind and give you the time of day. But with mothers-- MOTHERS-- here's the deal:

Mother-Law #1: If given the choice between meeting someone's mother or a psychotic ax-murderer in the darkness of my apartment hallway late at night while home alone, I would take the ax-murderer GLADLY, because one of those, you can kill in self-defense, where as no matter how badly it goes with the other, you can't.

Mother-Law #2: Now, if (god forbid,) I were to ever have a son, and he were to somehow make it to the appropriate ages for dating and copulation himself, and if he were to be charming and intelligent and pretty much all-around my child, and were to bring a girl home for me to meet, as she would be telling me how nice it was to meet me and how much she's heard about me and what a lovely home I had!, all I would be thinking is, "yeah, yeah, and all those nice words are coming out of the same mouth that sucks my baby boy's dick."

In two bulleted points, THAT sums up how I feel about mothers, and why, in general, I've tried to avoid them. But, after being told, very gently, that I might as well get it over with in a no-pressure situation, I actually entered under the threshold of a mother's front door with her son. And made it back out alive. She was lovely. She thinks I'M lovely. And since then, I've met nearly the rest of his family, including my first over-night stay at a parent's house, and he's met MY immediate and extended family. And Jesus, Mary, Joseph, and the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, everyone seems to be doing just fine. Who ever knew-- I am really capable of growing up and getting over my emotional bullshit.

XOXO

Just Friends...?

One of the hardest things about dating someone is trying to get an idea of the web of their friendships. While you may meet the best friends if you make it through the preliminary rounds of courtship, and while you may be taken to places, parties, or events where you meet some of the outer circle, the "good for a fun time" friends, you'll never get to meet everyone, or neatly sort out all the knots of confusion into neat, tidy little bundles of friendship strings. What can be hardest yet is qualifying the relationship the guy you're seeing has with his girl friends-- as a woman, you always have to wonder...is there something else there? What is the best way to ask if there's something more going on between him and his female friend he seems to be very close with? IS there even an easy way to ask anyone this without sounding like a total freak of nature?

Recently, I've been driving myself borderline insane trying to figure out the answer to this question. While I may currently be in a relationship, and monogamous, and everything seems to be going well, that question that shouldn't be asked seems to keep rising its ugly green head and begging to be asked: You've been talking a lot about a certain person recently; is there something I should know about? I'm fragile from the answer to this question being answered incorrectly in the past, and I need more reassurance and feedback on it than the average, well-adjusted woman does because of it. I get that I may just be A Little Crazy about it. But at the heart of the matter lies an even deeper-seated question: Can men and women Just Be Friends?

My friend Robin doesn't think so. Robin and I spent 4 months studying abroad in Italy together, and hence got very close. Robin, coincidentally, has been the guy most despised by every man I've been in a relationship with since. When I got back from Italy, my current flame questioned me up and down about Robin, then snubbed him at a party later on when he showed up to say "hi" to me. Very early on in seeing each other, the guy I'm currently seeing asked for the 4-1-1 on Robin, himself. Poor, misinterpreted Robin is a believer in Ladder Theory, himself-- the theory taken from "When Harry Met Sally" that a man and a woman are incapable of being platonic friends without one desiring something more.

Maybe I should be appeased by the fact that the guy I'm currently seeing thinks that Ladder Theory is complete bullshit, and that he has many perfectly functional friendships with women that are purely platonic...from his side, at least, he admitted, one morning when we went downtown and I asked him about it as we waited for our breakfast sandwiches by the beverage coolers. Or maybe I shouldn't listen to that at all, as not five minutes later, a girl appeared, and they hugged, exchanged pleasantries as all around were introduced, and after she and her friends left, he turned to me, slightly pink, and said, "Well, that was kind of funny. She's had a crush on me for over two years, but I just don't find her attractive at all." Hmmmm. So, CAN a man and a woman just be friends, or is all my round-and-round, hamster-wheel worrying actually energy spent on something worthwhile to ponder?

I try to temper myself by reminding myself that I am an undeniable Guy's Girl-- I always have more platonic male friends than female-- and that at one time, one of my closest guy friends, if not my CLOSEST guy friend, admitted he found me attractive and tried taking me out for dinner before we both decided it was maybe a little too awkward. But nothing EVER happened, or ever even ALMOST happened, and he and my other guy friends would ask me to come over and just hang because, sometimes, guys just like to have a girl friend around. I get this. I know this. I am usually That Girl that my guys call to come over when they feel the need to have a double-X chromosome make up in the room to balance out all the testosterone. The Older Brother/Younger Sister/Best Friends relationship dynamics are now firmly in place. There's no question anymore about the fact that I'm just a chill girl. Nothing makes me happier than to have a beer in hand, sitting on someone's couch, watching a movie and shooting the shit in a sweater and jeans. But am I always perceived as such, especially when I'm dressed in heels and a sweater-dress, or am I always like that? No. And when I found myself dressing (relatively) up and re-applying my make-up one night after I invited my best guy friend out to eat dinner with me, I realized that if I am doing it, maybe I should cut other girls doing it a break, even if the thought of another woman whom I'm still ambiguous about her intentions out at lunch with the guy I'm seeing makes me a little queasy.

I've been benign about this thus far, but I've been relaxed about this in the past and it's come back to bite me in the ass, so I'd just like to be clear about what's going on. Maybe I need to know that I'm not the only one really sticking my pale neck out there, trying this thing on for real.

XOXO

Freaks and Closet Geeks.

There are some things that are sacred to women: Chocolate. A pair of heels that fit perfectly and would never pinch, even if you walked 50 blocks in them. A perfectly made cocktail. Sleeping in on the weekends. Happy hour with your closest friends. How our mother will always be one of the first people we call with news. The four-letter words S-A-L-E and L-O-V-E. And closet space.

A few weekends ago, wading knee-deep in down from a comforter that's apparently determined to molt in time for spring, the guy I'm seeing took one look at the floor in the corner of the room he normally puts his clothing in, and winced at the gathering tumbleweeds of feathers residing there. "Do you have someplace I can put my stuff where it won't get down on it?" he asked, and I froze, like I was suddenly subject to the 10 degree weather outside. There was someplace he could put his things, but I really didn't want to think about it. How could I tell him that my closet is like my personal kingdom, where I am ruler of all labels and ruling regent of all spatial reasoning, keeping the tank tops separate from the dressy shirts from the cardigans, without sounding like a total freak of nature?

In the end, I ended up pushing aside the hangers and clothes on the hanging rack so that he could have easy access to put his bag and jacket on the shelf underneath, but my clothes looked so forlorn, pushed to the side like unloved stepchildren. I'd like to blame what happened later on the fact that I was overtaken with thinking about my black mesh dress pressed up against my woolly Italian sweaters and getting pulled on by their fibers, but actually, there's no excuse for what happened next.

Sometimes, we can all go a little bit crazy. As far as it may be from us, our past is still our past, and as much as we dislike to have it tarnish the golden views of our present or future, it sometimes does. I live in eternal fear of the One Reoccurring Theme of my dating history: That I am merely a placeholder until some thing or someone else better comes along...that while logic states I, an obsessive-compulsive, nymphomaniac, time-consuming, giving, impulse buyer of gifts, needer of needy men, should be more than enough for one man, but if there's one thing my history has taught me, it's that I am remarkably replaceable, and that I tend to be the entrée-- there's always an appetizer or dessert on the side.

But while I've served as the main course, it's important to note that there's a lot of things that I've never done before that I suddenly find being a "normal" part of my life: I've never had someone else's toothbrush and towel residing in my bathroom, other than a roommate's. I've never eaten out so often together or gone out as a couple. I've never slept as many consecutive nights with someone as I have been doing recently. Only one other man was ever even allowed into my house to stay overnight, and that was one time, so I understandably am not used to someone living with me nearly a third of the time. So you better believe I've never had reason, cause, or practice to give away a drawer or a shelf for a man to use as his own. The strangest part of all is, I actually really love all of it. (I seem to have come a Very Long Way since the girl who went through men in under one month like Brawny paper towels.) None of this actually feels strange until I take a mental step back, look at my current life, and assess the Big Picture. Which I did the other day, while simultaneously having a VERY spectacularly large fret about putting all my eggs in one basket and shirts on one shelf and worrying about the possibility of other women fucking my toothbrush-and-towel present reality over. And so I did something when the opportunity arose after he left that I'm not very proud of, at all, and took my last deep breath of sanity, and momentarily dove off the deep end. I freaked.

I knew it was wrong. I knew what I was doing was like stealing, or at very least, breaking and entering, even though the metaphorical doors were already unlocked for me and I didn't touch anything; didn't open any Pandora boxes. All I had to do was use the two eyes I was born with, but even that, I knew, was too much. I surfaced when I didn't find anything that I seemed to be looking for-- there were no illicit messages, no secret trysts set up, no whiffs of another woman's perfume or lip gloss smudges. There was nothing of cause for concern. In fact, what I did find made me feel even worse than what I imagined finding something that I was looking for would make me feel: Instead, there I was, my name staring myself right in my face, not erased or replaced-- the messages a sane women had written being saved by the man who was doing her right, as she let her inner freak flag fly postal. I felt worse about myself than I have in years. I vowed at that moment to lock the super-freak in me up in the closet and never let her out like that again.

As a silent mea culpa, I cleared away my tank top shelf and consolidated some of my hanging rack for his stuff in my closet --like he had asked for the other night-- at 3 in the morning in a "retribution-for-my-wrongs" fit, all while mentally begging for forgiveness, and finally letting him, and trust, into my life...for real. I figure, in my world, giving him a part of my precious clothing space says "I'm sorry; and I'm showing it by proving I love you more than I love my tank top collection" far more than anything else I could ever say or do.

XOXO

Countdown to V-Day.

Be A Sexy Secretary: All women in relationships live in fear during the week before February 14th that the guy they're with is going to completely forget that it's actually a beloved (and despised) national holiday. While I may not be the most organizationally-forward person when it comes to remembering important dates myself, I've met far more men that are actually worse than I am at remembering what they're doing on any given Tuesday, let alone a holiday that only comes once a year. So, if you want to give him a (very) friendly reminder that his presence would be greatly appreciated (and most probably reciprocated) on that day, play a little dirty: Send him a sexy picture reminder. Most the women I know (myself included) never wait to the last minute to stock up for V-Day, and I, the Underwear Queen, more than anyone else knows how painful it can be to have brand-new lingerie sitting in your closest, waiting to be worn until the proper day. HOWEVER, there's a way to justify getting dressed up early. No one wants to be a nag-- be sexy instead! If you take a photo or two of you in your Valentine's Day best and text it to him a day or two before with a message like "Hope to see you Monday night!" or "Unwrap me for Valentine's Day?" chances are, he'll actually remember to be there, and maybe even remember to get you a lil' sumthin'. I promise-- it won't ruin the surprise. And if you really don't want to show him all the goodies yet-- wear another outfit, but use the tactic.

(NOTE: Be smart about what you share. If you're nervous or shy, if you haven't been together long, if you don't trust him, or if he has a record of "sharing," either abstain from the photo and send a purely textual message, or make sure that your face and any other distinguishing marks aren't visible in the photo.)

All Wrapped Up (In Love): Speaking of lingerie and sexy little things, I shamelessly recycle the tissue paper they wrap your items in at Vickie's as gift wrap for other people's gifts, and the silk ribbon bag handles to tie them or make decorative bows. It's eco-sexy. Plus, hilarious to see the look on a guy's face when you hand him something wrapped in pink.

V-Day Made Easy, For The Fellas: Hi. Let me take this moment to remind you, this coming Monday, February 14th, is Valentine's Day. I know. It sucks. I'm sorry. You may want to remember that or keep that in mind. Now let's suck it up and get serious about this shit.

If you're seeing a girl, dating a girl, in a relationship with a girl, playing a girl, sleeping with a girl, engaged to a girl, married to a girl, or, hell, if you even KNOW a girl, expect that she got you something. Please know that "don't get me anything" RARELY actually means "don't get me anything" when coming from a woman's mouth. Expect that she will probably be expecting or wanting something in return. DO NOT expect that you have to be left in the dark about what to do, or that it has to cost you a small fortune, the price your left kidney will fetch on the black market, or your future child together's college education. The good news is, there are some inherent things that men do that drive us ladies wild, in a good way. I'm particularly partial to the freshly washed man-- just this morning, I told the guy I'm seeing when he walked back into the bedroom from taking a shower that him with a towel wrapped around his waist and nothing else on but body hair is one of my favorite sights in the world. Give me about 10 minutes of concentrated and uninterrupted staring at that, and I'm good for the day. (Yes, we objectify you too.)

A few things other than the time-honored toweled man that will satiate your lady's desire for romance and surprise on V-Day, ranging from costing you nothing to things that will cost you a little bit of dignity or a chunk of change (lucky girl!):

- Whatever it is, first of all, surprising us with it is always a good idea. A smart woman is very rarely actually surprised. If you can pull it off, you can charm her.

- Cook for her. It doesn't matter what you cook-- you could be Anthony Bourdain whipping up lamb ribs with a mint/tarragon aioli, or you could be a college boy stirring the contents of a box of Kraft mac n' cheese on the stove top, but whenever a woman sees a man standing in a kitchen, holding a cooking utensil, and doing something with food, it makes you look like Arthur pulling the sword out of the stone and hits us in a very primal spot. I think it's called Instant Love.

- Clean up a little, both personally and physically. Shower. Shave. Find a fresh pair of socks. And if she finds you folding her laundry (separate lights from darks or whites from colors, and when in doubt, DON'T DRY IT IN THE DRYER UNLESS IT'S 100% COTTON!) or holding the handle of a running vacuum, I guarantee you-- Best Boyfriend Award for WEEKS.

- I know some of us (myself included) will tell you that chocolate and flowers are over-played. Some women (including myself) are bullshit. What we DON'T like are generic bouquets and Russell Stover heart boxes. Go for her favorite bunch of flowers, or something bright and colorful, and Godiva. My dad got my mom and I classy, understated roses (Mom's, red; mine, the cream-colored ones with the pink or purple tips-- god, I love them,) and gourmet chocolate every year. Our abiding love for him is a good Exhibit A as to why unless she says "I'm allergic," flowers still do something special to every girl. And if you do go for the dozen red roses with baby's breath and red foil box, yadda yadda yadda...unless she's a Grade A bitch, she'll still appreciate the effort you put in, anyway.

- Jewelry is always good. Always. I say this as a jeweler's daughter and sales associate who watched hundreds of men pour in the shop's front doors every year, not as a woman. Here are a few tips I learned in the trade for making sure she actually will like what you drop money on:

1.) Take note of the kind of jewelry she wears regularly. Is she a ring person with one on nearly every finger? Or are bangles and bracelets more her style? Does she only wear the necklace her dead grandmother gave her on her deathbed, and would never think of taking it off in favor of another? Does she have an earring collection, or does she even have pierced ears? What's her favorite gem or birthstone? Is she a silver or gold girl? What's her style? While I may have grown up with precious stones and tennis bracelets, only a small percentage of the jewelry I wear every day is real-- the rest are souvenirs from places I've traveled (rings from Italy and St. John's,) a signature dichroic glass pendant on my necklace that I will almost NEVER take off, and bangles that I'll switch in and out depending on my mood and the look I'm going for-- either wood or cheap metal ones. Scoping what she wears everyday and what's in her jewelry box will give you a good idea as to the type of jewelry she likes to wear and what she'd get the most wear out of-- if she wears the same 2 rings every day, a ring may not be the road to go, but if she mixes and matches necklaces or earrings, those would probably be safe to get her something new. It doesn't even have to be expensive-- the majority of the jewelry I treasure cost under $50-- it just has to be her.

2.) Make sure it's the right size, especially for rings. When in doubt, snag a ring that she won't miss for a day to take it in and match what you're buying up with the right size.

3.) Get it gift-wrapped. Unless you were an origami CHAMP in elementary school, it's probably best to get someone at the store to do it for you.

4.) If it's in a square box-- be it a ring, earrings, or pendant-- give us a minute to catch our breath when you give it to us. We're pre-conditioned about square boxes...we're sorry, we can't help it, just bear with us until we start breathing regularly again.

- Can't go wrong with a few things: Victoria's Secret gift card. Books, movies, or tickets to a show she's wanted to see. A candlelit bubble bath drawn up and waiting for her when she gets home (cheesy, yes, but classic for a reason-- this is the holiday of romantic Velveeta moments). A mix CD or playlist that you compiled for her. Dinner and a fairly nice restaurant and a move. Drinks or cocktails at a lounge-- dressed up. A hand-in-hand walk after dark. Massages. Sex. Cuddling. Or going out drinking in moderately decent clothing, followed by a drunken stumble home in the dark while holding each other up, some messy foreplay, sex, and not falling asleep snoring directly afterwards. That works, too. Hey. We're not all gooey and mushy.

- Good god, hold the plushy toys and cards, unless you're dating jailbait. If you are, make sure to have her back by curfew. Also, please go register with your local Neighborhood Watch chapter.

- Fix something for her-- her car, her computer, the floor in her apartment that needs to be redone, the old paint in the bathroom that's chipping and needs a fresh coat. Whatever you're naturally good at, lend her your talents.

- Tell her she's gorgeous. The best thing you can do for us is really just to tell us that you like us. That we smell nice. That we're pretty. That you like being with us. That you think you're lucky. That you'd do a lot for us, like brave the hordes at a flower shop at 5 o'clock on the 14th because you suddenly remember that we love Gerber daisies. That she looks slammin' in whatever she bought for the occasion. Laugh at the pink wrapping paper. Kiss her "thank you." Say "thank you." Be genuine with her, and she'll fall for it faster than she ever would for a dozen red roses. (...It's still a good idea to have something small. Just sayin'-- don't shoot the messenger.)

Hope that cleared some things up for you, and best of luck with getting lucky.

XOXO

The 3-Month Hitch

During Glamour's yearly poll of thousands of men on issues regarding love and sex and relationships, one polled member commented on the fact that it takes the average man between 3 and 6 months to decide that he wants to commit to a serious relationship. Obviously, to people like my mother and like, all other women on the face of the Earth, this doesn't make much sense, because, after you've been seeing the same person for the last 3 months, you just assume you're in a serious, committed relationship, right? Wrong.

One of the most frequent questions I get asked when people are asking me for advice is, "How long should I wait before I ask him to be serious/committed/my boyfriend?" This question usually comes within rapid succession of starting to see someone on a regular basis, because if there's one thing we know about women, it's that in our thinking, the equation goes: "time together + sex = hormonal bonding = relationship on lockdown, now, please." Some girls believe that after a month, you know what you want out of a relationship, and that the two month marker is the time to have The Talk. You know what talk. You've wanted to have The Talk after the first month into a relationship, I promise you. It's when your friends are bothering you if he's officially your boyfriend yet. If you have keys to his place. If you’ve met his friends or family. If you’ve had The Talk yet. Even if you weren’t thinking about it previously, hearing so much feedback almost brainwashes you into thinking the same way; you want to nail that shit down and have everything in neatly labeled little boxes like "Monogamous" and "Committed" and "Boyfriend." You want to know he's not just killing time with you until something else or someone else comes along. You want to know EXACTLY what you're doing together. Believe me, I know what I’m talking about, because not even I—the utterly casual/take-things-one-small-step-at-a-time girl—am immune to it. The more I’m asked if someone is my boyfriend, the more I itch to make him my boyfriend, if for no other reason than to stop the henpecking and make a more honest woman out of myself. I hate society for this reason.

But the fundamental problem is that your beginning months together as a couple are like a trial period to the rest of your relationship. You're still learning things about each other, getting to know the quirks and nuances of co-existing with another person. Things come up in this time that make, break, or shape how you feel about each other— you may not be able to deal with his constant throat-clearing without needing to leave the room for a 5 minute breather, and he may have a big beef with the fact that you steal the covers at night. It's a time of discovery, enlightenment, and compromise— NOT a time of solid relationship status. Even Patti Stanger, the Millionaire Matchmaker, suggests a 90-day trial to commitment, after which time, it's time to shit (in this metaphor, "shit" meaning a really unflattering synonym for deciding to do it proper,) or get off the pot and cast yourself back into the dating pool to try again.

There are so many more "little talks" that need to happen before the Big One that let you discover if you even NEED to have it. There's the "Do we like each other enough to continue seeing each other?" talk, usually after the first few dates. Then there's the "Here are my deal breakers" unveiling, usually done with each other in installments labeled along the lines of Religion, Politics, Lifestyle, Family, and Friends. Next comes a period of reconciliation about things like who drives and who pays the tab at the bar or restaurant and what pet names are appropriate and which aren't. And then there's the precursor to The Talk— the "Are we monogamous?" discussion. These are all important steps to gradually work through, and I can promise you, it'll take longer than a month to get through them. And do you know what skipping them— the necessary groundwork to any functional, grown-ass relationship— or rushing through them makes you look like? A crazy, needy woman who always needs to be in a relationship. Not flattering. So do your homework, hun.

Three months is the perfect amount of time in which to decide if you want to turn seeing someone into a serious, committed relationship. In three months, you should be able to assess how compatible you are, if you have the same goals and objectives, if the way they take their coffee is going to infuriate you every morning for the rest of your time together, if the sex is still as exciting as it was in the beginning and looks like it still will continue being exciting and fulfilling, and where you see this relationship going. You can date, meet each other's friends, get in fights, make up, sleep together, sleep in the same bed together, develop a routine for how you spend your time together— are you a stay in or go out couple, or a little bit of both?—, discover what aspects of the other suit and complement your own personalities, and get to learn each other's pet-peeves and deal breakers. You even have time to go on trips together, learn how the other deals when one of you gets sick, and possibly even meet the family. If you feel like you can't wait three months before jumping into an official relationship, I'd ask you to please look up the differences in the dictionary definitions between "love" and "lust."

So, the next time you feel the itch to break out The Talk and after a month, control yourself, girl. Wait it out a bit. Maybe, if you give him the time he apparently needs to make the decision on his own, he’ll even bring it up to you, which is just about the most romantic (can we guess what the word of the week is sponsored by?) thing that I can ever imagine happening. This may be one of those times when the man is right, after all. Give both of you some time (preferably around 90 days), and it'll all work out the way it should be, organically.

XOXO

Bringing Sexy Back

I frequently spend downtime at my job chatting with the guy I'm seeing when there's no clients, no pressing inter-office business, and no other busy-work to be done while I'm sitting at the desk, awaiting inter-collegiate emails. However, work and play overlapped in a way I didn't see coming yesterday that left me feeling a little shook not only about how my job and interests bleed into my personal life, as well as how "comfortable" isn't always a good thing in a relationship, despite the connotations of warmth, bliss, and utter lethargy. The conversation that started it all (lightly edited for content, clarity, and privacy,) is as follows:

He: "My friend who you met at ____ has been in one of they're videos."

Me: "Really? And yo' grammar. It's outta control."

He: "You can bug me about it, but I don't give a shit."

Me: "Good grammar is sexy."

He: "If I thought I still had to make sure I was being "sexy" for you online then I would, but I REALLY don't feel obligated to go back over every sentence I type right now, especially since I'm doing a couple things at the moment."

Me: "Real romance never dies. Proof-read so I can think more about jumping your bones and less about proper usage."

I work in a writing center, and I'm a professional writer. I spend an inordinate amount of time thinking about the English language (and occasionally, other languages, so holla to you, French and Italian), and it's something that's obviously important to me. The guy I'm seeing knows this. It's no secret to him that I decided to give him a chance after he used the word "microcosm" in a comment on my Facebook wall-- he literally had me at "the world in miniature." Which is why it was such a bummer for me to see the wrong "their/they're/there" in something he typed-- when he was still working on winning me over and wooing me, everything he wrote to me was flawlessly edited for maximum correctness, and if he slipped, he'd immediately correct it. He knew I have a hard-on about grammar, so he put the time in to make it all look appealing. It meant a lot. To me, good grammar is sexy. Words are sexy. Which brought up the question today-- At what time is it ok for the sexy to stop? Is it ever really ok?

Granted, he has a point in the fact that we've now been seeing each other more or less for three months, and together for two, and it's hard not to feel comfortable with someone when they're leaving their clothing, their beer, some food, and have a toothbrush in your apartment, but I would hope that someone would always want to be sexy for me, regardless if we've been together for two months, or two decades. When the sexy stops is when the taking-for-granted comes in, and no one likes to admit when sexy changes from something that you do inherently as a means to an end (getting laid), to something that falls by the wayside because you're now comfortable with someone (and now getting laid regularly). As Carrie said in "The Drought"-- "There's a moment in every relationship where romance gives way to reality." And it blows. But does it have to? Does the sexy really ever have to stop?

True, it's a lot of work to maintain, but that's what makes a relationship go from "work" to "magical." So what if you have to spend a few more minutes proof-reading something? I'm not going anywhere. And so what if you've woken up next to me with sex-hair, or seen me in the shower with mascara running all down my cheeks? Just because I'm comfortable enough with someone that they've seen me looking pretty bad doesn't mean I still don't bust hump applying make-up, choosing the right outfit, and doing my hair for a good hour before I see them, still. Right now, it's still all smooth legs and thongs. But what if I decided I was comfortable, and let the romance die? What if I stopped shaving my legs regularly and started wearing more cotton full-coverage bikini underwear? I'm pretty sure there'd be some protests, if not some full-on Egypt-scale riots. Because really, those are two things I definitely DON'T do to keep it sexy for him. And both take more time and effort than using spell check does.

I don't mean to gripe, and I think at this point, we all know how deliriously pleased I am most of the time with the new beau and consider myself a very lucky girl, but I just think that this example illustrates the differences in men' and women's ways of thinking better than nearly anything else. To me, the romance, the effort, the spark (if you will,) in a relationship is really important...nearly as important as the good grammar I get paid to look for. If that means that I'm going to have to put in a little more work to keep things fresh and exciting and sexy, then yes, I'm going to do it. To me, comfort is letting you use my laptop without hovering over your shoulder paranoid you're going to go through my search history, or leaving you the keys to my apartment, not burping in front of you and occasionally being caught wearing something from Vickie's cotton college dorm-wear PINK line instead their Sexy Little Things collection. So no...no, I don't think it's ever ok to think that comfort with someone equals the fact that they're a sure thing and let the sexy slip away, because if grammar is the first thing to go, it begs the question of what the next thing to slack will be. The sexy needs to be nurtured, in moments like the Hollywood Kiss that took me by surprise one random night when he grabbed me and dipped me for a kiss (in the Top 3 Most Romantic Moments Of My Life, for sure), or when you spontaneously reach for the whipped cream in the supermarket or the new pair of underwear he's never seen before, or that random moment at 2 AM last night when he texted me, just to say "hi" and ask how I was doing. The sexy is what takes a relationship from normal to fireworks, and you best believe that I'm a fireworks kind of gal. I love fireworks. Almost as much as I love the Oxford comma.

XOXO

Boys Will Be Boys, And Girls Will Be Like Boys.

I learned a fun fact this evening while I was talking to my roommate Alli about the fact that I'm starting to think that slightly larger than average amounts of testosterone in my biological make up would explain a lot about me, paramount being my sex drive, natural aggressiveness, tendency to dominate, and the fact that a lot of the time, I feel masculine despite my 36C breasts riding on my 5'3" frame and 36 inch hips. It's not anything...I don't know, abnormal, like I'm going to bust out a beard at any moment...it's just that despite my love of shoes and the fact that I tear up over ASPCA commercials and reflexively smile hugely like a butter-hearted idiot at cute babies, I still feel like in a crisis, I'd be the one picking up the rifle and trekking into the woods to go kill shit to feed the family.

Maybe it's because I'm a Vermont girl. The most romantic thing I could get for Valentine's Day would be a remote car starter. A remote car starter on a nice bracelet.

Or maybe, it's something else. "Let me see your hand," Alli asked, and then held hers up to explain. "See how my index finger is longer than my ring finger?" I dutifully held mine up. She went "YEAHHHH" quickly in a tone of voice that I'm sure they train out of doctors in pre-med. "Look at how much longer your ring finger is than your index finger." She's not lying. It's probably nearly a quarter of an inch longer. "They've linked longer ring fingers in women to higher doses of testosterone in their chemical make up. So that explains it for you."

Think this is all bullshit like how a man's hand or foot size denotes the size of his dick? Then try this on for size: "Unlike men, most women have ring fingers that are shorter or the same length as their index fingers. Only a few have longer ring fingers. The finding adds to evidence that the ratio between the two fingers - not the length itself but their length relative to each other - is associated with a number of different personality traits, which include sexuality, fertility, intelligence, aggressiveness and musical ability. The difference is believed to be linked to the level of the male hormone testosterone, to which the foetus is exposed in the womb."

Whelp. That not only explains my merit as a sprinter, but also my sex drive quite nicely. "But babe, I know you're tired...don't blame me, blame my finger!" Think it would fly or hold up in a court of law as an argument? However, I can also guarantee that all the women who just read this are looking at their hands right now.

XOXO

Playa Hater

In many aspects, I'm not your typical girl. I don't know many Lady Gaga songs, I'm really not into jeggings, and I'd rather watch a football game than Glee and go to a dive bar than a nail salon. I've never had a manicure (waste of money when you use your hands as much as I do), and I didn't have senior portraits taken, or professional prom photos done. So it really shouldn't be any surprise that there wasn't any photographic evidence of me with any of the guys I've dated or been in relationships with.

I mean, yes-- there is a horrible held-at-arm's-length cell phone quality snapshot of me and a guy I was with freshmen year, and there's a photo of my on-again, off-again guy and I in a group of our friends, but that's it. No official "hello world, we're a couple, and can't you tell?" photos. I was thinking about this fact today while watching SATC reruns and thinking about how anti-girl that fact is. Also, about how slightly sad it is that I'll have no photographic reminders of how I felt together while I was with a guy.

Until now. Low and behold, not 30 minutes later, an image taken of the boy and I on his birthday surfaced on Facebook from his friend's cell phone. I knew that his friend had been taking photos of the shitshow taking place, and was expecting some hilarious Leaning Pile of Drunken Man photos, or possibly, ones of me standing in front of him with his chin in my hand, trying to get him to focus on me long enough to find out if he needed more water. Instead, what popped up was a photo of the two of us casually sitting on the end of the couch closely together, my arm around his neck, hand resting on his collarbone, his arm around my waist and hand on my hip, both our eyes focused down at some point on the floor in front of us as we talked about something. Or he slurred and I listened intently.

It's a great photo. I wasn't expecting it, especially from a friend of his. Totally candid, yet entirely truthful. I am now a believer in those body language experts who say they can tell if two people are sleeping together just by reading their body language as they interact. If a picture is worth a thousand words, than that photo only needed three: "So into him." I wondered, when I saw it, what the shelf life of it would be on the page of someone who is enjoying a Time Without Labels, and says that one of his favorite things about me is the fact that I don't ask about his business, yet has his own toothbrush on my sink and spent 3 of the last 7 nights at my place. As I expected, it lived live for about three hours, and then disappeared.

I'm not surprised because I know the situation. I know how refreshing it is to get out of long relationships and be single again, even if you're currently casually seeing someone that you really like. There's no rush to jump into anything, and the concept of not having to be committed to anything is intoxicating. I know that he's the sort of guy who wants to appear single on his page, even if he's into displays of affection in public, just like I'm the sort of girl whose Facebook relationship status is "In An Open Relationship" because that's how I consider myself-- in an open relationship with THE WORLD. I'm not into relationship statuses, or broadcasting it every time I start crushing on or seeing a new person. And while I'm not looking for any sort of label from him, and while I knew from the instant I saw it that that photo's shelf-life had a short expiration date, I have to admit, it did get me a little down to not see it there anymore. If you can show me off around town and to your friends, why don't you want to show me off in other aspects of your life, too? Because I honestly feel like I'm worth it.

Part of me, a very small part of me, took tiny offense to it, with a grain of salt. From the get-go when I saw it, I knew it would probably be removed because it would hurt his "playa image"-- the thought that he can flirt with whomever he likes online or in the real world because they don't know he's seeing anyone else. For three hours, that image was killed by any other girls who happened to see it, and the photo probably wasn't as well-received by him as it was by me because of that fact. In reality, he knows the difference between flirting with someone and trying to get with someone, and is very straight about it-- I have no worries that he's actively trying to get with anyone else. And hell, I'm a huge fucking flirt, so if he wants to get his harmless flirt on, he can get his harmless flirt on. But it got me thinking and couldn't help but make me wonder: Why do men always feel the need to be lining up the field? It's not just him-- it's the guy my friend is trying to see who has a ton of his "bitties", and what my ex who always had another girl on the side, just in case, did. It's what this guy explains in his "bottom bitch theory" video. This is dating, and as much as it seems like a game of chess or a full-body contact sport like rugby (but with kissing), IT AIN'T. I am not lining up my next starting line while I'm with a guy. As unnerving as it is, I play it play-by-play and day-to-day, and if it ends tomorrow, then it's gonna be awhile before I find another starting player to draft. Girls (sometimes, more than guys,) deal with periods of singledom and sometimes celibacy because of this-- when a girl is really with you, we're WITH you, ride-or-die style. And if a guy's not thinking the same way, than it's like you're dating on top of a trapeze of your feelings with no safety net underneath if he decides to drop you for the next Maria Sharapova or Mia Hamm or Serena Williams.

But it's easy-- in today's world, the internet and our presence online is what dictates how people who don't see us every day or regularly view us. And if he's flirting with other girls online, it just wouldn't do to have a couple-y photo at the top of his page. I get it, though I'm not entirely down with it. I run into the same issue every time one of my close guy friends posts something that could be considered especially intimate or overly interested-- I worry how other people will read into it. Granted, at this point, I'm pretty sure the guy I'm seeing knows they're my friends and he's the only one I'm currently seeing and/or sleeping with, but then again, whenever he leaves me a comment, then I'm always stuck wondering what my ex thinks of it. It's a no-win situation out there in cyber space.

XOXO

From A Man's Mouth, To Your Ears.

I have to admit, I've watched the majority of his videos now. It's so nice and refreshing to have an average Joe talk about the places where men and women go wrong, and get a male perspective on where we differ. What can we learn from this?

#1: Be proactive. If it ain't goin' down, LET HIM KNOW that it ain't goin' down. It's only fair; it's only polite; wouldn't you want him to know sex isn't int he cards before you make a fool of yourself? Extend the same courtesy. As he says, there is nothing wrong with a woman saying no to sex...before sex is literally on the table. Once you let things get to that point and then renege on it...that's when you're a tease, and not in the hot way.

#2: To steal from "He's Just Not That Into You," like he says, you are not the exception. If he's done it before, chances are, he's gonna try to do it with YOU. If you let him, it's your funeral. Only if you stop him and get yourselves on the same page real quick is when he's going to start thinking about you differently than those other 101 girls, because you've made him see you differently. Lately, I've been hearing from more and more men that strong, independent girls who speak their mind and aren't afraid to sass back are the type of girls they're into. This explains why my friend Julia, who was voted "Most Likely To Marry A Rockstar" in her high school yearbook, does so well with me. (She's a reigning Champlain LikeALittle queen.) She never lets herself by lumped in with the rest of the pack. If all the girls are leaning left, she's leaning right. Guys go crazy over her. Emulate. Stop being the meek, "doesn't rock the boat" girl, and being all surprised when you're not getting what you wanted out of a relationship. Lay it all out there. He'll respect you more for it. And sass is hot. I mean, just look at that word. It's already got "ass" in it. Of course it's awesome.

#3: Thou shalt put in as much work as he is. "Everything was cool-- talk on the phone everyday; she would stop in to see me, I'd go past to see her..." The amount that you put into a relationship is proportional with how into it he thinks you are. And vice-versa, for that matter. If you want him to know you're genuinely interested, stop doing the aloof woman shit, and be the one to ask to make a date or see each other. That's when he gets that you're feeling him-- NOT when you wait three hours to respond to his text because your friend Amy told you that you don't want to appear too over-eager. Be smart, like I know all you girls are-- use your judgement about when is a good time to play the game, and when it's not.

#4: If he's paying for your meal, chances are, unless he is a very platonic friend, or the nicest and most generous man in the world with a disposable income, he's gonna want to see something for his Benjamin's. This is no secret or surprise. There are differences between a man paying for your Junior Whopper or paying for your crab leg dinner. One means peaceful co-existing while eating together. The other means "I'm taking this out in sweat from you later." Think about it this way: How many of your male friends, who you've known for years, and consider like the brothers you've never had, have paid for a meal of yours? None of very few? That's right-- that's date territory. And while I'll have my boys over for dinner, or they'll make me spaghetti and homemade meatballs in their humble abode, it's not like they're taking me out to Leunig's downtown for a slice of banana cream pie...and a steak. So, unless you want to sleep with him, or unless you're very, very hungry and very, very poor and don't mind being very, very rude-- don't accept a dinner invitation out with him to somewhere where entrées are over $20.

#5: The ears are the sweet-spot. AMEN. Ears are very dangerous things to play around with. DO NOT go for the ears unless you're ready for the consequences. Men, women, dogs...I don't care what gender or even species you are...the ears are where it's AT. Earlobes are packed full with nerves and are an erogenous zone, don'tcha know? So don't go near my ears unless you want to be having buckwild sex in about .02 seconds, and I won't go near a man's ears unless I want the same. Let's all make a pact right now-- keep your mouth off the ears, and no one will have any mixed signals or wishes that can't or won't be fulfilled, ok?

XOXO

Red Light, Green Light, No Lights?

Like any smart person dating or living, I have certain non-negotiables when it comes to men: He must do what he says he will do (have follow-through). He must have initiative (put as much time and energy into planning, talking, and general effort). He must have manners (ack rite, be a gentleman, and know how to hold a fork correctly). He must have self-confidence (sexy). He must love watching football as much as I do and drink PBR (because if you can't agree on your teams or your brews, what in life can you agree on?!). This is like the Holy Grail. I get that every other female on the face of the Earth is looking for this dude; here's hoping I'm just more tenacious in finding him.

And I'm getting closer, what with all these relationship lifestyle changes. For possibly the first time in my life, a guy other than my father or a very platonic male friend is treating me like a princess-- but one in a glass tower, wearing a chastity belt. It's quite possible I'm just hornier and used to taking the bull by the horns (or other things,) and just jumping into bed with it. This would not be a shocking world revelation. As the past has shown, this isn't always the best decision and doesn't tend to lead to being treated like anything more special then a really great lay, which is why strides are being made to Do The Right Thing Here and Play The Game. But it does bring up some questions, other than "Are you even attracted to me? And if not, then why do you guys do all of this?"

But I am not a man. Obviously. And sometimes, when playing with new men, I feel extremely out of my comfort zone. There are things that I know what they mean coming from a woman, but coming from a man, I am completely lost in translation. And when I get lost, I get, well...masculine. Instead of the sweet, flirty, lovable girl I want to be around the men I'd consider letting through the Pearly Gates, my masculinity comes out to play at the wrong time to take charge! and Just Do It. (Obviously, that one's trademarked by Nike.) But despite the gender-bending overtures, I'm still no closer to getting any of this, and I AM attracted! What gives?!

So, today, male readers, you get to do ME a solid and help me decode dude behavior and figure this out. Listed below are some standard actions of men currently engaged in the early stages of getting to know a woman. Preceding them are icons-- a G for if women interpret this behavior as "all systems go!", a ? if we're completely baffled by if this is a good or bad sign, and a R if we take this to be a complete failure in the interest of ever getting it on. Your job is to correct me if I've got the wrong end of the stick on any of this. And ladies, you're not left out of the game, either-- What are some other completely baffling men dating behaviors? Let's sort this the hell out!

[G] If he talks to you every day-- either via in person if it's possible, phone, text, chat, etc.

[?] If he talks about other women who were flirting with him. On one hand, maybe he's trying to feel out how you feel about him by seeing if you're jealous. On the other hand, maybe he wants help in picking them up. I have no idea how to feel about this one.

[R] If he brings up his past relationships. Dudes-- Unless you are asked, point-blank, to discuss your exes or another girl you had a "thing" with, or unless something pertinent happened with them which goes to explain a point in your current relationship-- it is bad form to bring up another woman while talking to a woman. Especially in bed. Don't laugh. That's happened to me, more than once.

[G] If he asks you about your sex life. Then he's thinking about your sex life. (Caveat: Some men are dogs and just want to inappropriately ask you about your sex life with no reason, and no groundwork beforehand. Consider them like hand grenades-- volatile, and apt to destroy with reckless abandon.)

[G] If he tries to validate himself to you as someone awesome-- bragging about prowess, financial status, work, school, or sport accomplishments, etc.

[G] If he initiates contact more than 50% of the time, and makes the plans. What a keeper.

[G] If he tells you flat-out that he wants to do things for you. (I think it's acceptable to take people on their word.)

[?] If he tells you what's wrong with him-- i.e: doesn't consider dating a priority, has anger issues, has mommy issues, has had trouble in the past keeping it between you and him and in his pants, etc. We call this the Lemon Law: Most guys will tell you within two weeks what's wrong with them, or what challenges you're going to face in dealing with them. The good news is, he knows what his issues are, and he's telling them to you. The bad news is, he's normally not so up-front about it-- it'll be snuck into conversation, so you have to be on toes about looking for it and/or noticing it. So, is this enlightenment, or something to fall back on later when he can look at you and say, "I told you I have issues with commitment"?

[R] If he admittedly is not on good speaking terms with his ex, other women he's been involved with, or a majority of people who used to be friends. How he treats or treated them is a great preview into how he'll end up treating you.

And then, there's a flip-side to everything. To make it all even more confusing, here's what it means when a woman does the same exact things. Guys, what you're looking at right here is what we ladies know. This is what we have to work with. So if something you're doing is getting lost in translation and interpreted entirely differently...here's why:

[?] If she talks to you every day-- either via phone, text, chat, or smoke signals, it either means one of two things: She likes you, or she's dependent on you. When women like someone, we want to talk with them, a lot, especially if there's physical distance between them and the other person-- say they don't live in the same town, or have conflicting schedules that makes hanging out difficult. I'm actually weird-- when I've got a crush on someone, I do want to talk with them every day, but after the initial honeymoon phase has worn off, every other day or every two days is enough space for me. However, I get highly dependent on the men in my life-- stopping talking to exes is extremely difficult for me to realign them as a major player in my life to a bench-warmer.

[G] If she talks about other men who were flirting with her. She's trying to make you jealous and see how you really feel about her. All the way. We do this purposefully, all the time, and unless you're the most platonic of our male friends or male coworkers, we're trying to feel you out if you're going to get all caveman on us and grunt, "No! You my woman! I make you mine!" and carry us back to the cave over your shoulder like we're hoping you will.

[R] If she brings up her past relationships. We're either not over it, or we're using it as a warning tale to you about what NOT to do, so, listen close, either way. Same rule applies: Unless he asks, leave it in the past.

[G] If she asks you about your sex life. She wants your bod. She wants you to do things to her no man has ever done before. She thinks you're Superman. Her body is a movie, and your penis is the star. (Thank you, The Sweetest Thing.)

[G] If she tries to validate herself to you as someone awesome-- she wants to show you how much better your life could be if she was in it, cooking you breakfast, helping you update your job resume, and making your buddies jealous you have such a smokin' and awesome girlfriend. Oh, yeah-- we think about. We want to make your friends as jealous as you do. Fact.

[R] If she initiates contact more than 50% of the time, and makes the plans. She's secretly a man. Or, at the very least, a severe micro-manager. And is more into it than you obviously are. Recognize it, and let her down gently. (Ladies-- don't lie-- we're liberated and if we can vote, we can sure as hell call him first, but we also know what it means when shit's going bad when you're the one hunting him down to talk more than half the time.)

[G] If she tells you flat-out that she wants to do things for you. She's a keeper. She's there to help. She really digs you, and she's willing to prove it. And if those "things" are sexual in nature-- never let her go.

[G] If she tells you what's wrong with her. Unless she's bat-shit crazy, a woman with issues knows that she's got them. I know mine-- see the note above about how I get masculine when intimidated by big, manly men, among many others. Best be sure I explain myself when it happens. If we're telling you what we get crazy-pants about, it's a good indicator that we're working on those issues, and want to forewarn and forearm you before the shit hits the fan and you're wondering what you ever did to deserve the way we're treating you out of the blue.

[R] If she admittedly is not on good speaking terms with her ex, other men she's been involved with, or a majority of people who used to be friends. Unless all these men and those friends were bastards (which, can be true,) she's a stark-raving psychopath. RUN AWAY, YOU DON'T NEED THIS TROUBLE IN YOUR LIFE. Even some of the most horrible break-ups can result in civil behavior or continued friendships and acquaintances. My most dastardly ex is still someone I spend time with. Granted, some of it is catty, sarcastic time, but we can be at the same place at the same time, nonetheless.

So, are we on the mark? Way off-center? Completely missing the point? Did you learn something? Can you teach me something? We'll all never know unless you tell! That's what that comment box is for.

XOXO

Where Have All The Good Men Gone? Someone's Already Dating Them.

Like I've said, I enjoy a challenge and something new. After a year of riding the same merry-go-round, I decided to take a break from the one-man game and see what else was out there and offering itself's up, because, after all, what's good for the gander is good for the goose-- if you're not getting what you want and you need, and if there's no commitment, and he's off having fun elsewhere or not making up his mind-- you should be looking elsewhere, too. Respect yourself; know your worth. If one man won't appreciate it, chances are, another will. Start looking for that man, or men, if you feel like you just want to date casually at this point in time. Men have been doing it for years; it's time for women to start dating and mating like men, too.

And if there's anything he can do, I can do it better. Am I right, ladies, or am I right? Time for me to enter the world of dating, albeit a little bit late in RSVPing. Straight from the dating trenches, I bring you the secret, the Good, the Bad, the Ugly, the Ridiculously Attractive, and the Golden Rule:

The Secret: Your friend's friends are your secret, untapped resource. Ask around and see if anyone is hiding a great guy-- someone they used to date and have remained friends with with no residual desire, just a platonic friend, a brother or cousin or co-worker or classmate, etc. The good news is, your friend can vouch for their sanity, and knows what you're looking for, and can also play referee and deliver the rulings from the other side of the field; if they feel comfortable doing so, of course. (Guys, I hope you realize this goes for you, too-- your buddies could be sitting on some great girls to set you up with!)

The Golden Rule: 10 minutes of straight, uninterrupted talking is possibly one of the smartest moves you can make when you're getting to know someone. Plan the event surrounding those 10 minutes of bliss (or abject horror) accordingly. The object of this first date or meeting is to fill enough time doing something else so that you still don't know everything about each other, because hopefully, the suspense and good feelings created will lend themselves to a second meeting. Sporting events, where it's only considered decent to talk in between innings or quarters or commercial breaks, are a great choice if you're sports fans; catching a show or a concert is another venue that gives you time to re-group and be silent and think, rather than having to spend all the time together talking, which, let's face it, can be trying, or worse yet, means you run out of things to converse about. Though movies aren't generally considered the best since you're sitting silently side-by-side in the dark for 2 hours, it could maybe fly with the right person. Maybe.

The Good: "I offer my most sincere apologies but I have to run; I'll talk to you tomorrow, though."

The Bad: Just signing off or not responding to the last text or leaving. You'd be shocked and amazed how many guys do the "bye!" duck and run, or, don't even say that they're leaving. Common manners is saying goodbye; great manners are apologizing for an abrupt exit, and leaving a time-frame for the next time they'll be in touch. (Same goes for you, ladies-- let a guy know how much you've enjoyed talking with him, and let him know it's either ok for him to contact you again, or that you'll be in touch with him. Stop being so fucking aloof. Let him know he's done well and that you like him. For god's sake, flirt with it if you're into it. A little mystery never killed any romantic suspense, but being an Ice Queen sure as hell never started any grand passion.)

Women tread a fine line with dressing for dates. On one hand, I lived in Italy for 4 months and dropped some major cash on some pretty fashion-forward clothing. On the other hand, no woman should outshine her date-- the goal is to match each other in terms of dress. I'm not talking you two should be in matching tracksuits like how your mom used to buy you and your siblings all color-coordinated outfits for the holiday family photo, but rather, that the way that you dress will compliment the way that he dresses. (Because let's face it, women generally are more fashion-conscious then men. It's easier for us to think of all the outfit possibilities and align that with our plan.) However, this being said, it is always better for the woman to be a little more under-dressed than the man. This is because if a girl shows up dressed to the 9s, while a dude's in his flannel shirt and jeans, it's going to do 2 things: Make him feel self-conscious, and convince him that she's more invested than he is. When in doubt, GO CASUAL. Jeans, boots, and a shirt never went wrong. A skirt and a t-shirt is fine. Tailor your outfit to the location-- if it's a movie or a concert or bar, a dress will look out-of-place. If you're going out for dinner at a place where entrées are $20 and above, you might want to wear that dress there.

The Ridiculously Attractive: When a guy shows up with obvious effort put into his appearance. I dressed a little down; he showed up in a button-up cuffed at the wrists, trousers, and a fresh shave. His stock went through the roof.

The Ugly (Truth): I'm gonna say it-- I hate Facebook chat. I really, really hate Facebook chat. I usually sign in, scope out who's on, and then sign off real quick before any of the random people I went to high school with and haven't talked to in years decide it's time for a reunion! This being said, everyone and their mother is addicted to Facebook today, and it's generally a good place to get in touch with people, meeting, before, or in between or after dates. Today, I logged myself on and sat down, waiting through an excruciatingly weird conversation with one of my best friend's exes, just to ignore the person I actually wanted to talk to. Why? Because I'm a woman. We set up a scene so that we can wait around...and then ignore a guy until he starts talking to us, ESPECIALLY after a date or seeing him for one of the first times in person.

See, it's all about the chase. If you've just met up, or if you just went on the first date, contacting him first it going to cloud your waters. I mean, yes, we're big girls in the 21st century here, and if we like a guy, we know how to let him know. But it's also important to find out exactly how he feels about you. If it didn't go as well on his end as it did on yours, it'll show in how long it takes him to contact you. And if he's enthusiastic about you, you'll also know it by how little time it takes for him to say "hey" again. From there, you've got a pretty educated guess on how receptive he is to you, and if date 2 or meeting up again is an option.

Let's recap: I am perfectly comfortable asking a guy out (though I'd prefer he does, first). I'm fine with asking for digits-- asking for people's phone numbers should be routine by this point in your life. I even periodically open doors FOR MEN. But what am I, and nearly all other women-- and I'd be willing to bet large sums of money on this, if I had it-- still loathe to do? Be the one to make first contact. It's so fucked up, I know, but that's women for you. There. Consider yourself strapped. Go forth, and message her first.

Happy dating! And if you have any dating rules you live and die by-- send 'em in! Lord knows I need all the help I can get.

XOXO

When Women Re-Enter The Cave

One of my more endearing quirks is the fact that I'm one of those girls who always goes over to a guy's place, rather than having him come to me. A great way for my guys to figure out how I feel about them is if I invite them over or not: If I ask you to come over, I'm not stressing about you seeing where or how I live. In other words, we're great buddies. I'm comfortable around you. You can totally see where I sleep. But if I drag my feet about having you over more than George Clooney drags his feet about getting married; oophf, I may like you enough to not want you to see my dirty dishes, what science experiments my roommate and I are growing in our fridge, and be worried about you finding out how many pairs of shoes I really do own. (Ummm...it's a lot.)

The last man I had invited into my home slept in my bed, broke some bedsprings (yeahhh...let's not talk about that...) ate my food, broke my ottoman, and left his proverbial scent over everything I owned. I saw traces of him everywhere I looked, in my own things. It took a long time after the break up for me to be able to sit in my own apartment again without feeling like shit. It also took me a long time to get ready to invite another of my guys into my living space. So, in the meantime, I went out to their places a lot.

Women's mags would have a field day berating me for this (all that yadda on going into a space where he's in power, etc., etc.,), but there's something that I really love about being in Man Space. I like talking to the roommates, and admiring the attempts at interior decorating. I like drinking beer that isn't mine, and reading books I don't have on my own bookshelf before he wakes up in the morning. And I really, really like waking up in an apartment that isn't mine. A joke that really isn't a joke that I recently told a friend is that the shittiest part of a break-up is the fact that you can't retreat to someone else's territory when yours is hostile or boring. There are some nights you just want to not be home, or some ungodly early mornings that your landlord wants to come in to do some reconstruction work. Those are the sort of nights that it'd be nice to have enough money for a hotel, but, in failing that, would like to have the option of using the person you're sleeping with's bed instead. So, figure, spending the night at a guy's house is like going to a 2-star hotel with a prostitute. But in a more romantic, less illegal way.

I found this article from Glamour online today, and it was like it encapsulated everything that I love about going to my guy friend's places. While she may have liked the fact that when a dude is home, she knows where he is and with who, I like the whole "gather around the man cave" concept for another reason. One of my favorite parts about not staying home is being able to go over where a dude is hibernating at home and hang out with his buddies. At home, it's me, it's Alli, and it's His Little Shit Nicolai la Citta, who, having NOT been neutered and in retaining both of his furry balls, is probably the most testosterone-ridden thing we see around regularly. And as should probably be splashed across the headlines as it is so NOT breaking news in any sense, it's pretty obvious that I'm a really big Guy's Girl. I drink beer. I have a football team. I can out-quote you on Star Wars. I can identify how many cylinders a car has by sound. I sleep between to a collector's edition Batman comic book and a life-size cut-out of the Joker. I do pretty well for myself with guys, and I really love getting to know their friends.

But unlike the author, I like the man caves as much as the men inside of them, and obviously find it a huge turn-on when a guy has so thoughtfully "pimped out his man cave." It shows that appearances are just as important to him as they are to me and that his cleanliness is close to him being godliness. I was actually with a guy for awhile who had the most spectacularly neat room I've ever seen other than my own, and thought that this was the norm until I met one of his longtime girl friends who promptly spilled the beans that that was NOT true, and it appeared as though he'd been cleaning before I came over. I do the same thing. I was charmed. She thought it was hilarious.

One apartment full of men I know is decorated with the findings of one roommate's antiquing and flea-market finds. (Having side tables gets you far with me.) Another house of 4 guys has a cleaner bathroom than we do at Heaven on Union, and HANDTOWELS! One of my female friends lives with two of my guy friends, and together, they stock and share a refrigerator I am truly envious of that consists mainly of beer, expensive foreign cheeses, and meats. I clearly have such awesome guys in my life. Why would a girl NOT want to spend time in man caves like these?

Oh, right-- that whole asking to come over thing always sucks.

XOXO

Text And The City

I send texts. You send texts. We all send texts. Everyone's doing it. But are we doing it...wrong?

There is nothing quite so degrading as when you realize you're giving your phone the evil eye, waiting for it to ring after you send someone a text. I mean, for chrissake, it's an electronic lump of plastic, and here we're thinking giving it the look that would freeze hell over will galvanize someone miles away into action, manipulating them to reach for their similar hunk of plastic, and redeem all of human kind to us. We all know, I think, how often this actually happens. The opposite of what we'd like to happen happens more often than we'd all like.

Wow. Our expectations and misplaced steely stares are grossly over-sized. So, how do we learn how to text...better?

First, we need to recognize a fundamental fact to communication between the sexes: Women perceive their relationships better than men. A study done by Hebrew University of Jerusalem showed that after surveying 97 couples in the United States, women are more perceptive than men in describing their relationships. The study, which was published in ScienceDaily, reported that women were much more accurate in describing the perception of their partners than men. Sometimes this hurts more than it helps. This means that, technically, a woman texting should know the situation that she's getting into and the sense of decorum that it comes with. Is this always true? Fuck no. How many of you ladies have sent those texts that as soon as your thumb lifts off the "Send" button, you start cringing? I start shaking, myself. Like I have palsy. It is tres, tres attractive, I'm sure.

I really, and I mean really hate the phone. This should be apparent by now. Which is exactly why I've spent so much time and off-the-mark texts researching what the best ways to compose and send them are. And this is what I've found:

We all have options about the way we have text. There are easy options, ambivalent options, and leave no pris...I mean, hard options. Most texts are usually ambivalent options. If he says he's got other plans when you ask what he's up to tonight, you probably won't be heartbroken. The general variety "Hey, do you wanna go get a drink?" or "What are you up to now/later?" are ambivalent options. Ambivalent option texts are usually safe texts to send and receive because the sender generally wants little other than some sort of contact with another life form for the sake of feeling not so bored and there's not so much pressure. Unfortunately, these are the sort of texts least likely to get responded to. It happens, though it still really pisses me off, primarily because like stated, they generally aren't threatening texts at all, merely curious and mostly seeking beer or other forms of entertainment of a purely friendly kind, no ulterior motives. (Well, ok, I mean, everyone always has ulterior motives of one kind or another.)

But sometimes, you need to hardball. Sometimes, you need to put you first. Maybe you had plans you need to know are definite. Maybe you forgot the notebook with your calc notes in it at his place after spending the previous night, and you've got a test in 2 hours. Maybe you really need advice on a matter, and value their opinion nearly more than your mother's. This is when you hardball. You don't want to force a no-options text when you think you want to spend the night. That's like using The Force for evil. That's turning over to the Dark Side of being one of Those Girls. (Pink lightsabers are not good lightsabers, people.) Text "I have to get my _____. What time will you be home so I can get it?" No options. You're getting that _____. Today.

A "soft option" or "easy option" looks like an ambivalent text at the beginning. It usually starts with a "Hey, what are you up to?" or something equally breezy and conversational, then it gets to the point after the "Not much, what about you?" response. A "soft option" then gives a time limit and easy out for the recipient to say either "yes" or "no" to, no pressure. "Can you chat for 5 minutes?" DON'T use "talk." NEVER use the word "talk" in a text in the context of "Let's talk," or "I want to talk to you" or "We need to talk." This makes sirens go off, and if you seem overly seriously, it's another no-no. They'll run for the hills. Seriously. Always stay light and informal. Now is a good time to be delicate about asking for things. This makes it a "soft in," because there are good chances that you'll get that in for 5 minutes or an invite. The main difference between an ambivalent text and an easy option text is that an ambivalent text is very direct and to-the-point without being overly polite or seeming like you're asking for a favor, like an easy option text usually takes the form of. The point of an ambivalent text is that you really don't give a fuck, which you do with easy option texting-- which is why you're making it an easy option.

Some other rules of texting thumb and phone etiquette:

- Always ask yourself, what am I trying to communicate in this text? Is it clear? Can anything be misinterpreted? Unfortunately, the answer to this last question may still be "yes," but at least by now you've done your best.

- Keep the text to one point. Abbreviate what you can, without it looking like a 14 year old wrote it. Keep it classy, and abbreviate using shorthand. "With" becomes "w/." "Because" is "b/c" or "bc." "And" becomes my favorite symbol, "&." "At" is "@." And although I really hate it, and it's the last thing I abbreviate, and only then if I really can't help it, "you" can be "u." God. I feel so awkward and tweenage all over again. And unless you're texting your best friends, keep it to one text page at a time. Getting slammed with a consecutive 2 or 3 in a row is so overwhelming.

- If you want a text back, a good place to end is on asking a question. A pertinent question. People are more apt to respond back to questions, even if it is only with one or a few words.

- Sass is hard to pull off without sounding like a bitch unless the other person knows your humor as well as you do. Watch ya tone.

- Use a fresh opener that other people won't. A "ciao" means it's from me. Conversely, using a gender-bending opener like "Yo" or "Dude" is great for fending off the advances of men you think of sheerly platonically, or alternately if you want to make your guy friend feel more comfortable with the informal tone of your text.

- Only if you call and don't leave a voicemail message can you text a "voicemail message" instead. I actually suggest this, as it's clever because it means your name is seen twice, and if they didn't answer the call because it wasn't an appropriate time, I think we all know that by now, texting mid-conversation, or at least reading a text, is considered de rigueur. That means twice the chance that they'll know to get back to you.

But always remember-- when in doubt, and if it's important: Call.

XOXO