Thursday, January 11, 2007


”How many of you have ever started dating because you were too lazy to commit suicide?”
- Judy Tenuta

Sorry the dame has been absentee. It’s been an interesting week.

When one runs out of things to occupy one's time and travel is not an immediate option, talking to men can seem like a viable alternative. Talking to men inevitably leads to other more precarious activities: i.e., dating.

I have not done the dating thing in quite a long time as I was in a serious relationship and, unlike my partner, felt this precluded dating as a reasonable pastime. The result of which being that I had A) forgotten what it was that I did not like about the process and B) forgotten how to do it properly.

Any woman who has successfully spent any number of years on the dating circuit can tell you that one develops a certain repertoir of defense strategies, safety precautions and escape hatches. These things become a simple and natural part of everyday interaction. You don’t even have to think about it. I was once very good at the whole routine and had gotten to the point where dating was great fun and easily navigated - for the ocean of shark infested water that it really is.

I am out of practice. In walks very cute guy who can dance and thinks I am lovely. This seems promising, no? The inexperienced dater can be thrown off by the charm of someone clever enough to think one is absolutely wonderful. Combine this with remarkably nice eyes and a dash of dark-handsome-mysterious and we have a winner, right?

Not so much.

The out-of-practice dater forgets just how many oddities can hide within the seemingly lovely man. The “Just Sex” guy (who has his place in the grand scheme of things, mind you), the “Controller”, the “Big Fat Liar”, “Secret Drug Addict” guy, “Dangerous Fetish” guy, the “Clingon” and “Creepy Stalker” guy (not to be confused with the more worrisome “Dangerous Stalker” guy)... just to name a few. They are all out there, hiding inside the bodies of seemingly healthy men. Men who have jobs and drive cars and put their pants on one leg at a time and just seem... normal.

Houston, we have a Clingon.

In fact, we may have a Creepy Stalker but it’s too early to tell. One dance, one date and a few phone calls later, and suddenly one notices that the very attractive fellow is attempting to superglue himself to one’s side. This is a Bad Sign (and tends to make him far less attractive). There are red flags for this sort of thing that the experienced dater picks up on immediately. He cannot go more than ten minutes without telling you that you are pretty, beautiful and/or wonderful (which, to the inexperienced, just makes him seem incredibly intelligent). He tells you he likes you SO much... right away. He volunteers an unsolicited and extensive personal history the first time you talk to him on the phone. He keeps saying he “can’t wait” to see you. He expresses concern about “smothering” you after his second phone call (this means he has done this before).

All these things can be subtle signs that behind those smoldering eyes lies a man who has no intention of going away, fantasizes about having you all to himself and may sound a little too natural saying things like, “It puts the lotion in the basket.”

On the plus side, he’s attractive, polite and thus far has been sweet natured. This means I am attracting a higher class of stalker than the ones I had following me around when I was younger. So that’s nice. It’s important to feel one is making progress.


  1. Hahahahaha.... I had to stop and think where i had heart "It put the lotion in the basket" but I love the reference.

    And you are so right, but we do the same to men, we just have a different set of names "psycho" "clingy psycho" and any other one you can end with the word "psycho".

    One just hopes that someday we find someone who's crazyness fits with ours, then we don't seem to crazy anymore.

  2. I would take Bridgette H's advice. As someone who knows her, I can attest that she is an expert in "psycho" relationships. But then again, so am I. In fact, we once joined a special club for it.