After polling several women friends I find there is universal agreement that the whole slipping of the hand onto the back of the neck on the first date is creepy in the extreme (see Monday, July 02, 2007, More Precious Than Rubies ). With this in mind, I’ve developed a set of First Date Rules to help our disabled brothers navigate the cobwebs in their own brains and not sink the ship before they’re even out of the gate.
Ya, true, I’m still out of the dating game at present -- and have specifically eschewed all internet guys, whom so far I’ve found consistently creepy. Nonetheless, I feel it my social duty to use the ridiculous experiences I’ve accrued in the field to educate those men who just can’t seem to, well, stop being foolish and disgusting.
Note: Of course most of these apply to subsequent dates as well. But remember: you never get a second chance at a first impression!
Margaret’s First Date Rules
1. Do not show up to take me out in your shorts and T-shirt!
Are you kidding? Unless we are going on a true hike (and a stroll around the park or through the Botanical Gardens is not a true hike), you are still on a date and should at least show enough motivation to wear decent clothing. Seriously, I’ve had men meet me at nice restaurants in their freaking shorts and baggy T-shirts! Grown, 45, 50-year-old men, for Christ’s sake. What did this communicate to me? It said, “Hey, babe, you’re no big deal,” for one thing, and for another it said, “I’m a careless rube.” So, put on a casual button-down shirt, or a Polo shirt, or at least something creative, so heaven’s sake. And if we’re going out to dinner then wear a pair of slacks. Jeez. Believe me, I’m worth dressing up for. And if you’re all averse to dressing appropriately for the occasion, then let’s just save ourselves the trouble and, like, not go out.
2. Learn to make a plan.
If you ask me out, have a plan. Don’t sit passively on the phone with no idea where to go or what to do. (If I ask you out, I’ll have a plan.) Leaving it all up to me does not make me feel “in control.” It makes me feel like you still need your mother to tell you what to do. If you’re a man, act like one and make a plan. Show me that you can ease life’s stresses and show me a good time. I know you know how to use the internet! So use it. And when you have an actual idea, then call me.
3. Don’t be putting your hands on me, creepizoid, in any way, shape, or form!
There is only one exception to this rule: if I put my hands on you first.
4. For God’s sake, don’t cry, OK?
You just met me! I cannot possibly be important to you! Tearing up or looking dejected or getting pissed off (even silently) if you see or I say that I’m not going to want to have another date just show me that you are some kind of an emotional mess. Who is the guy who sits outside a woman’s house with a remote radio and a box cutter and six pair of cut-up panty hose? (Um, really, so far pissed off or tearful has happened three of the five times I’ve had these stupid internet dates.) (Oh, and by the way, tearing up or getting red in the face when you talk about your ex indicates you’re not ready to date again – and, yes, I CAN see these reactions!)
5. Don’t be wimpy about food.
In my sensibility, Food=Sex. The passions are the passions. If you can’t be brave and intense and playful in one, you probably can’t in the other, either. Food wimpiness, therefore, is as much a turnoff as a limp dick. More. At least the latter has some work-arounds.
I realized that the handontheneck guy, he was wimpy about food, and that’s part of what made his grabbiness icky. At Mangia Italiano, where I was raving about their fresh home made pasta, he ordered a freaking salad. Now, that might be ok if he were passionate about salad or really just wanted a salad, but it was clear that it was because the thought that was the only thing that was “good for” him. He wanted pasta, talked about the pastas, considered ordering them, salivated, hemmed and hawed, then ordered a salad. Then stared like a guilty orphan at my lasagna (ya, I gave him a bite). God. It wore me out.
I have nothing against salad, I love salad, but I said clearly on my eharmony profile that I was into food and wanted someone who could be adventurous about food! Being scared of any food that’s not salad? That disqualifies you. Also, this guy looked askance at my glass of wine. That is not ok. I will have a glass of wine with my Italian! And this is the too-touchy guy?
Now look: I could forgive, let’s say, Mario Batali or Anthony Bourdain if they touched me a few times on a first date. Why? Because those are guys who live for passion. They are no-holds-barred, travel the globe, eat pure pig fat and thirteen courses of slow-cooked shin and sauted thymus and twenty three bottles of wine in a sitting there-is-nothing-I-won’t-try-if-it’s-been-cooked-with-love, full-bore take no prisoners grab-ass students of the senses. These are guys who would rather die than confine their palates to some strict cold nihilistic wasteland of chill and bland. And I admire them for it. And if either of them were single I’d be calling them, in spite of the fact that neither is particularly good-looking and both are way too loud and obnoxious for me. It would be worth it. They would approach, [uh-hum] everything, I’m sure, as if it were the most hellacious and mindblowing once-in-a-lifetime meal.
But if salad guy touches me, well, it’s just creepy. He’s not living in his body. He’s not playing in the fields of the Lord if he’s tending toward all raw food. Sorry. It’s a prejudice. But guess what? When it comes to who touches me – and even who I date -- I get all the prejudices I want, for free! So, if you’re wimpy or frightened or you don’t know how to have fun with food, I won’t like you! And if I don’t like you, you can’t touch me! Stay home and eat a salad.
6. Tune in.
Don't be a jerk. Be sensitive. Learn to care for others. If a woman looks away or stiffens up when you touch her, don't do it again. Apply this principle to everything.
I think that’s it, for now, for the first date guidelines. I hope it’s been helpful.
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