Citizen of the Month

the writing and photography of Neil Kramer

Category: Men and Women (Page 1 of 11)

How to Stop Thinking About Your Ex and Move On With Your Life

January 3, 2017 / / 3 Comments

***Written on Christmas Eve.

If you’re in pain, searching Google on the subject of  “How to Stop Thinking About Your Ex and Move On With Your Life,” and you ended up here, at this blog —  tough luck, my friend.

You’ll be getting no advice from me.

Oh sure, I could spout some obvious clichés about seeing friends or focusing on hobbies, which is what you were probably expecting, but c’mon, you already know that shit, right? You don’t need me to repeat it for your benefit.

Believe me, I was once like you, and I don’t mean five years ago.  I mean FIVE MINUTES AGO when I was searching Google for “How to Stop Thinking About Your Ex and Move On With Your Life.”   And what did I find?   Mostly poorly written advice columns that seem to exist solely for internet traffic. Yes, a few of these posts were written by writers once heartbroken themselves, but the trauma was always back years ago, when these individuals were naive and immature, and who now are self-actualized adults able to share their experiences as experts to help others, if you buy that.

Let me say it again, just in case you are still reading this.   I cannot help you.  I am useless for that.  I’m expert-less.   I’m in the same situation as you, and only making things worse by the minute.  I’m writing this on Christmas Eve, which is already a loaded time for melancholy.   I’m sulking, boring my friends, and annoying my ex with too many emails. Everything wrong.  

What I can share with you is that, just a few minutes ago, I was  searching for a post exactly like the one you are reading right now, written by someone who was hurting NOW, as he wrote it, so his words had some urgency.   I wanted to find someone who I could relate to, so I could say to myself, “Look, there is another person feeling like a desperate idiot. Maybe I’m normal after all.”  

Now, I know how the internet works.   You might be reading this ten years from now.  I will probably be completely happy by then, married to a wonderful woman.  But the words that are on this page will exist here forever in pain, in full nakedness, the NOW still alive, in 2026, as vividly as it was on Christmas Eve, 2016.   Feel the anxiety and tears flowing from my fingertips into my laptop into the internet and into your consciousness.   I know how you feel right NOW.    Feel it.  Cry if you need it.  

I have no advice.

You might be a teenager dealing with first love.   Ha Ha, that’s the worst.   I’m not a teenager. I’m a mature man who has been around the block and endured a few breakups, even a divorce.  I’m gonna break it to you now.   You will  make the same mistakes when you are my age.   If you are sixteen, as I once was, you are going to be shocked to learn that at fifty, you’re still going to want love and sex.  You’re never going to be able to completely control your emotions.   That’s right.  Your parents still want to be in love.   Your parents like sex.   A lot.   Live with it.  

I’ve been lucky so far to have avoided the severe post-breakup misery that we see so frequently in movies, plays, and books. My divorce was hard, but there was a long stretch of on-again, off-again separation with us that created more of a slow-burn than an amputation.  With other girlfriends, it was mutual, or the obstacles seemed so overwhelming that we cried, then accepted the inevitable.  There have been friends who I’ve lusted after, and Tinder dates who have rejected me.  I’ve always managed to overcome the disappointment pretty quickly.   I’m good at making sure that logic always takes precedence over emotion.

My current situation is unique.  I’ve never been where I wanted more from a woman, but the other wanted to move on.  It sucks. 

I can’t verbalize exactly why this feels different, but I can feel it in my bones   We were friends for a long time, and constantly chatted and called, several times a day.   Social media is great for instant access, but has its dark side.  When you break-up with someone, you are forced to see the tweets about her new boyfriend.  You have to be a strong and adjusted man to find joy in the romantic happiness of your ex-girlfriend when you are still feeling emotion.  

Again, I can give you no advice. There is no one to blame. I’ve made some mistakes and I’ve been super-hard on myself.   It is Christmas Eve and I imagine everyone is happy except for myself.  What did I do wrong?   Maybe I can change her mind? Maybe I should just call her, as a friend, just to say hello? What if her boyfriend is there? Wouldn’t that be awkward? Maybe I should do it anyway?

This is all crazy.

But it also normal.

Maybe you are doing the same sort of shit.

That’s why I googled “How to Stop Thinking About Your Ex and Move On With Your Life.” I wanted this post.   Not someone trying to sell me an e-book, but to hear another temporary basket-case expressing the exact craziness that I felt.  

What do you do when you lose not only a girlfriend, but someone who has been your best friend? How can she — so quickly — find someone else?  Didn’t “we” have any meaning?

Sorry, suckers. No answers.  I only have the same questions as you. 

Time heals.

OK, so maybe I just did give you some advice there.

Say it again. Out loud. Time heals.   You don’t believe it. I Know you don’t believe it.  I don’t believe it either, and I’m the one fucking writing it. But it is true.  Because I believe in science. And this is science talking.   I believe in climate change.  I believe the earth goes around the sun.   So I have to believe that time truly heals.  

OK, here is another bit of practical advice. Block her on social media. For now. Maybe soon, you can become friends again.   But right  now, it’s going to be so hard to see her words and photos.

I know you are  thinking that it isn’t necessary.   That this is for the weak.  That you aren’t a crybaby pussy. That a real man can endure it.   It’s only Facebook.   Just forget it. You’re not being weak by blocking her on Facebook for awhile. You’re a fucking human.

In the beginning of December, I blocked my very first person on Facebook. It was a Trump supporter. It was a big deal to me because I’ve always taken pride in listening closely to those who I disagree with politically. This guy, however, was getting personally insulting. After much thought, I decided that he crossed a sacred boundary, and I blocked him.

Now, at the end of December, I am blocking my second person,  for a completely different reason. I miss her, and our daily texts and conversations, and it is too painful to see her with someone else.   I’m glad she is happy, but hate it at the same time.   Sorry, the truth.  Emotional truth.  

You should do the same. Block her.   For now.  

As for other advice on “How to Stop Thinking About Your Ex and Move On With Your Life?”

I have nothing.  

Good luck to you.

Walt Disney World: World of Laughter and Tears

February 26, 2016 / / 34 Comments

Walt Disney World
Main Street

Every man should visit a Disney park five times during his lifetime.

The first time is when he is a child, so he can appreciate the magic of this amazing fantasy world through the eyes of a young person.

It's a Small World
It’s a Small World

The second trip is years later, with high school or college buddies, done as a lark during spring break. This is a rite of passage between childhood and adulthood because what once caught your imagination now becomes an object of sarcasm and scorn. Everything Disney must be ridiculed and mocked as childish and commercial. The only reason for being there is to score some over-priced beers at the Germany pavilion at Epcot and then vomiting behind the PeopleMover as a sign of a triumph over your childhood.

Peoplemover
PeopleMover

The third excursion is after graduation, now as a male adult, his youth behind him, holding hands with a date, a lover, or girlfriend. This is his attempt to transform the Disney experience, once a symbol of childhood and teenage angst, into one of maturity and romance.  More on this later.

Italy Epcot
Italy, Epcot

The fourth visit is mid-life, with your wife and kids, hoping to see the joy in the bright faces of your children, so as to remember your own  sense of awe at first stepping into the Magic Kingdom. Of course, now as an adult, you will also other thoughts, such as how this family trip, with travel, hotel, food, park admission, and food on the Disney property, is costing you more than a down payment on a new Prius, but once you overcome this urge to worry, this visit can be the most beautiful, depending on the behavior and brat-level of your offspring.

Epcot Morocco
Morocco, Epcot

The fifth and final trip should be in old age, during the twilight years, preferably on your own. While standing in the middle of Disney’s old-fashioned, Norman-Rockwell type Main Street, you thank God for allowing you to visit a Disney property five times in your lifetime. Many come to Disney as a last wish as sick children, and never get to see it again. You were one of the lucky ones who got to experience Disney through all five stages of life.

Electrical Parade
Electrical Parade

And then, after counting your blessings, and with the Main Street trolley clanging by, as it does so efficiently ever few minutes, you should curse Walt Disney for every myth that he planted in your weak brain.  It was Walt Disney who ruined your life.  Your Prince or Princess never did come, did he? You never met a sexy mermaid or a talking lion, true?   And the only time you saw a real mouse, he wasn’t cute with big ears, but a disease-ridden pest, and you smashed it dead with a golf club on the linoleum of your kitchen. No, Mr. Disney, during your entire life, all you peddled was fakery, like the Morocco’s cheap façade at Epcot, and you profited from it. And now, after counting your blessing and cursing the memory of Disney, there is nothing left for you to do on Earth but to die,  facing Cinderella’s Castle, right in front of Goofy’s Souvenir Shop, and as you fall to the ground and take your last breath, you realize that even in death, you were conned by Walt Disney, who has cleverly frozen himself in a secret room in Burbank, California, so one day, in a true Tomorrowland, he will return to life, the richest man on Earth, laughing at your for his ultimate con job, a prank that even a Cruella Deville couldn’t imagine.

Japan Epcot
Japan, Epcot

But, anyway, back to my recent trip to Walt Disney World with Jana. It was my “third category trip” to a Disney property, the “romantic trip.” While I had been to Disneyland while living in Los Angeles, it was my first time back at Walt Disney World since I went there in the late 1970s with my parents, before Epcot had not even been built!

Walt Disney World 70s
Walt Disney World, late 1970s

I know the question you are asking yourself. Can romance be found at a Disney theme park, a location crowded with crying children, stressed out parents, and senior citizens aggressively driving their rent-a-scooters like the extras in a Mad Max film?

Walt Disney World
Walt Disney World, today

It’s not easy, especially if you are running around to go on rides you haven’t been on in decades, catching the buses back and forth to your hotel, and running races at 5AM (Jana was involved in a charity race).

Disney World
Princess Race Finish Line Bleachers, Walt Disney World

Surely, by nightfall,  even under the fake romantic moon in the Disney sky, most couples are less “Lady and the Tramp” slurping pasta together at a Italian bistro than Sleepy and Grumpy, wanting to hit the sack.  That is mostly true.   But yes, romance CAN be found at a Disney property, in small doses, but only if you go with the right woman who can magically turn the most cynical of men into believing in fairydust.

Walt Disney World
Jana, Adventureland

So, thumbs up, Walt Disney World.   I prefer Disneyland in California, it being smaller and more a part of the the actual city of Anaheim, but I had a good time. And I didn’t expect to enjoy it.  Next time I need to come with kids.   Anyone’s kids.

And please, don’t ever tear down the corny Country Bear Jamboree, no matter how few people still visit it.

Disney World
Walt Disney World, Main Street

Top Twelve Things I Did in Atlanta This Weekend

January 19, 2016 / / 16 Comments

I hear that writing one of these lists is an easy way to write a post.  So, here it goes – Top Twelve Things I Did in Atlanta This Weekend!

1)  Going with Jana to meet Miranda, her co-producer/co-director of Atlanta’s Listen to Your Mother show.

2)  Going with Jana to meet her friend, Karen, in a local TraderJoe’s,  which was a surprisingly good idea because we were able to taste the gnocchi from the guy in the chef’s hat who was giving away free samples.

3)  Going with Jana to eat BBQ ribs with Dadcation and his family, and getting sauce all over my beard.

bbq

4)  Going with Jana to a party at a bowling alley where I participated in my first game of laser-tag.   Considering I am a man of non-violence and pro-gun control,  I was pretty good at the game.  My biggest man-to-man combat was with this eleven year old boy.  He was quick with his trigger, but he lacked my intelligence.  Using cognitive therapy techniques that I picked up over the years, I was able to trick him into trusting me as an ally, when I promptly shot him in the back.

5) Sleeping with Loretta, Jana’s dog.   I loved this dog.   For some reason, Jana became petty and jealous when I asked her to sleep in the living room couch so I could snuggle with Loretta in her bed.   What’s the big deal?  I’ll never “get” women.

Loretta

6) Going to Ikea with Jana and her son, Henry.  By the way, just in case you were wondering, Atlanta’s IKEA looks EXACTLY like your IKEA.

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Ikea2

7) Forcing Jana to watch 4 hours of Gone with the Wind.  Can you believe she grew up in Georgia and NEVER saw the movie?!  This has to be rectified.  After the marathon screening, she said she wasn’t impressed.  “Scarlet is a selfish bitch,” she said.  Confused by her reaction, I brought in the big guns to explain to her why she was wrong. (thank you,  certified GWTW expert Danny on Facebook).

8) Driving on a country road somewhere in Northern Georgia and yelling, “Stop here for a photo!” every five minutes.

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9) Touring the quaint town of Madison, which we learned from the tourism office was spared the flames of Sherman’s March because:

a) Sherman had a West Point buddy who lived in town.
b) or Sherman had a mistress in town.
c) or a combination of both.

madison1

10) Going on a tour of a pre-Civil War mansion.  Jana and I were the only guests, and our tour guide was a junior in high school. After the tour, Jana tried to fix him up with her niece in Florida. I took a lot of photos of the lighting fixtures and creepy dolls in the children’s room.

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madison4

11) Walking over a covered bridge, another first for me!

bridge1

bridge2

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12)  Just hanging out with Jana.

jana

What Do You Have to Lose?

January 14, 2016 / / 39 Comments

A few years ago, when I went to New Zealand to meet Juli, it caused a stir amongst my online friends. It was as romantic and exotic a scenario as any romance novel. The green beauty of the Kiwi location added a Hollywood sheen to my adventure. I posted photos of Juli and I against the backdrops of lush woods, rocky beaches, and Maori villages built on volcanic ash. It was a wonderful trip. Strangers would send me private messages, a few of them like this:

“When I was a junior in college, I spent a year in Sweden. While there, I met Sven. He was the most beautiful man I ever met, and the best lover. For a year, I was in heaven; it was the greatest romance of my life. But after the year, I became practical and returned to my studies at Carnegie-Mellon, where I met my husband. I’m married now, with three children. And I’m very happy living in Pittsburgh. Let me emphasize that. I love my husband dearly and my children are the greatest gift. But sometimes, I wonder what would have happened if I had stayed in Sweden. I will never know, but you have the opportunity to live life to the fullest. Stay in New Zealand with Juli. Don’t come back to the States! Live! Live like I could never live with Sven!”

There was much disappointment when my relationship with Juli fizzled out, a casualty of the great distance between us. It was a Hollywood movie with a shitty ending. It was also my first taste of the fickleness of an audience. All the new readers and followers who were once begging me for a new chapter to my great romantic saga had abandoned my story to the remainders table of the internet.

One person remained true, carrying as much about my aftermath as my travels. It was Jana, a blogging friend from Atlanta. She was one of my first online friends who pushed me to go to New Zealand when I was reluctant to take a risk.

“What do you have to lose?” she asked.

She was still there after hearts were broken.

Now she asked a new question, “How are you doing?”

We bonded after that, becoming confidantes.

Last January, I decided it was time to start dating again. Always up for a trend, I signed up for Tinder. It was terrifying for me, but Jana was there again with good advice.

“What do you have to lose?” she asked.

Jana became my dating coach during my twelve online dates that I had in the winter and spring of 2015. Before the date, I would send her a photo of what I was going to wear. After the date, I would give her the play by play. There was one woman  I liked a lot, but there was a problem — her name was exactly the same as my ex-wife, first and last name. It was the weirdest coincidence in dating history.

“Should I tell her about my ex-wife’s name NOW or LATER?”

“You better tell her now because she’s going to be freaked out.”

And yes, she was freaked out, and I never heard from this woman again.

During this time, I also became a confidant to Jana’s issues, one of them being her separation with her husband. This made me nervous because I was worried that our conversations had triggered her marital problems. She assured me that they hadn’t; they had been growing apart.

One weekend, Jana came to New York City with her niece who was checking out colleges to attend in the fall. She was interested in Columbia, where I had attended school. I accompanied them on a tour and then we went out for pizza at a local college hangout. That night, Jana and I went to their hotel bar, where she introduced me to a drink called the Sidecar. We both became a little tipsy and kissed. It was awkward, because while Jana and her husband were now separated, they were not yet divorced. We let some time pass until the divorce came through. I visited Jana in Atlanta and she visited me in New York. Something was going on with us, but we weren’t sure how to define it. We weren’t even sure it we should change our Facebook relationship status as of yet. No one ever teaches you about dating after divorce. The whole concept of “boyfriend” and “girlfriend” sounds so high school.

After a wonderful weekend in New York, I freaked out and called off our budding relationship. Jana didn’t understand. I explained that I had already been involved in a long distance relationship before. Juli and I were also friends before we became romantic, and once you go too far, it is impossible to go back. After the distance proved insurmountable, our friendship never recovered. We rarely speak to each other anymore, even on social media. I didn’t want the same to happen to us. It was more important to me that we remain friends than start a relationship that was bound to have obstacles.

“What do you have to lose?” she asked.

“You,” I said.

That night, I thought about it some more. I had grown very close to Jana. We have fun together and I like her, like the kids say. So, my resolution for 2016 is to stop worrying so much and see where things lead. So, I am writing this as I take a flight to Atlanta to see Jana. Nothing to lose, only to gain. As for changing our Facebook relationship statuses, we’re taking it slow.

 

jana

Tinderitis

May 19, 2015 / / 3 Comments

I was watching Murder She Wrote with my mother. Jessica Fletcher was helping an old friend, a golf professional, who was falsely accused of murder. The local police thought it an open and closed case, but Jessica Fletcher steadily poked holes into the evidence. After all, the victim was shot by a bullet that entered the right side of the body, which means the shooter would have to have been left-handed, and the main suspect, her dear friend, the golf pro, was right-handed, and unable to be the killer. The only other suspect capable of the crime was the owner of the pro-shop, who WAS left-handed, and had a motive – she was once jilted by the deceased on her wedding day, and she had vowed revenge. The owner of the pro-shop was cornered; she confessed.

Case closed.

“Eureka,” I cried out loud to my mother. “I don’t masturbate too often!”

++++

Every male has one female friend who is the ONE WHERE IT NEVER HAPPENED. She could be a friend from college, from work, or a neighbor. She is the woman with whom the opportunity once arose to move to the physical, but for some reason, guilt, fear, shyness, or just common sense, the step is never taken. The moment of temptation usually happens on a night when there is drinking, and the light is just right, falling on her like a Rembrandt painting, and maybe an extra button is open on her blouse, and you look too long at the curve of her breasts, and the way her body breathes when she laughs drunk, and then she sets her gaze on you in a moment of lust and indecision thinking about whether she is making your cock hard, until the click-clack of a waiter clearing a martini glass breaks the connection, and all returns to normal, never to be mentioned again. But it never does go back to complete normal; the night is always there, just hidden, like a tattoo on the shoulder that was poorly removed. You remain friends, but an aggressiveness builds, mostly visible only in language, as words are the best way that humans suppress forever that unfortunate minute in time when you desired to fuck a platonic friend.

++++

I didn’t fall. I didn’t bump into any blunt or sharp objects. The only medical explanation for the pain in my arm was my three months using Tinder. At night, despite to end my loneliness, I would lie in bed, holding my tablet up in the air with my left hand, and swipe right and left on the dating site with my thumb, the direction of the movement depending on whether the woman in the photograph passed my criteria. She must smile. She must have a bio. No bikini shots. No mountain-climbers. After three months, I began to notice a pain in my shoulder. I went to an orthopedist. I even came up with a medical term for my condition — Tinderitis.   I thought I was uber-clever and shared my diagnosis with Facebook, hoping to get some LIKES.

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“I wouldn’t tell everyone on Facebook that you injured your shoulder through Tinder,” she said, later that day.

She was the ONE WHERE IT NEVER HAPPENED.

“Why not?”

“Because it’s ridiculous. No one believes that you injured yourself by swiping.”

“It makes sense. The pain happened three months after I started using Tinder.”

“Let me tell you what most people are REALLY thinking.”

“What are most people REALLY thinking?”

“That you injured your shoulder by masturbating too much.”

“What? No one is thinking that.”

“That’s what I thought when you first told me you hurt your shoulder.”

“What?!  How much masturbating do you think I do?”

“Well, I don’t know. You’re looking at all those women on Tinder and maybe you get off on it?”

“Do you REALLY think I am masturbating to the women I see on Tinder? Most of them look crazy to me. They scare me!”

“That never stopped men before from masturbating.”

“I don’t think you really understand men.”

“Oh, I do.”

“If you understood men so much, why aren’t you dating anyone?

“I don’t date because I know men too well.”

“Eh, bullshit. You hate being alone.”

“I LOVE being alone. Why does everyone think a woman needs a MAN for her to be happy?”

++++

The killer on Murder She Wrote was the left-handed owner of the pro-shop.

Jessica Fletcher had saved the day.

“Eureka,” I cried out loud to my mother. “I don’t masturbate too often!”

I called my friend to tell her the news. That I was right and she was wrong.   My injury happened to my LEFT shoulder. I swipe on Tinder with my LEFT hand. But I only masturbate with my RIGHT.

Case closed.

Fictional Characters of New York #42

March 29, 2015 / / 3 Comments

macys2

“What makes a woman happy?” thought Victor, as he waited for his wife in the shoe section of Macy’s, where they were having a sale.

They were attending a matinee of “On the Town” that afternoon, but Cindy wanted to drive in early from New Jersey and park near Herald Square to go shopping.  Macy’s was decorated with a “spring bloom” theme, even though it was snowing outside in late March.

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In August, Victor will be married to Cindy for ten years, but did he really know her?  Did he know her likes and loves?  He worked long hours on Wall Street to pay for the bills and to do the best for his family, especially Eric, his son, but his wife remained a mystery, besides her affection for Kate Spade bags.

Victor and Cindy rarely talked about anything other than Eric’s schoolwork.  She was worried that he was not advancing as quickly as some of the children of her friends.

“You want him to get into Harvard, don’t you?” she would ask.

“He’s nine years old.  It’s a little early to worry about Harvard.”

Is that what Cindy wanted now out of life — to spend the next ten years making sure Eric got into Harvard?   Is that what everything leading up to the present moment has been about?

The last time Victor had sex — real sex — was on his birthday, as if she was giving him a present.

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We’re going to be late for the show,” said Victor.

“I just want to take a selfie with David and sent it to my sister!” she replied.   “it will be so funny!”

There was a fake statue of David in the lobby of Macy’s surrounded by flowers, and the tourists were eating it up.

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Victor and Cindy went to Florence for their honeymoon.   It seemed like such a long time ago.

The “Like Generation” in Dating

March 25, 2015 / / 5 Comments

couple

I sometimes forget that I met my ex-wife Sophia online, not on a dating site, but on a long-vanished forum on LA Freenet, an experiment in free internet service in Los Angeles.

Our first conversation was about children’s books. I said my favorite was Curious George Goes to the Zoo.  She liked The Little Prince. Neither of us had read the other’s fave, so we agreed to go to the library to check out the competition.

A few days we emailed each other with the results.  She found Curious George “childish.” I found the Little Prince “pretentious and boring.” It was love at first sight.

Don’t laugh.  This is how it works in the movies.  Imagine Sarah Bullock, playing a conservationist with Greenpeace, pushing past the secretary to confront the CEO of the oil company which plans to drill off of Venice Beach, played by George Clooney.   She takes one look at him, and what do you know — this is the same guy she had sex with last night after meeting him at the bar in the Mexican café in Westwood!

Opposites attract in movies.   But what about in real life?

Personally, if I met some woman who was into rodeos, it might be fun to learn more about her passions.   I know we are all taught to be confident in our own beliefs and likes, but what ever happened to learning about new things?

Can I also say that I am a Democrat and Sophia was a Republican?   I wonder if we met in today’s angrier America whether we could even get past the first swipe.    Yes, our views were important, but love has not boundaries, right?

One of the most interesting developments in online dating today is the need to judge each other by the most superficial of things — our cultural interests. Perhaps it is the result of “swipe and meet” apps where there are no questionnaires like on E-Harmony, and the bios are the length of Twitter updates. When using an app like Tinder or Bagel Meets Coffee, we know nothing about the person’s moral or artistic character, even after a first date.  The best way to judge worthiness (other than looks and chemistry) is to grab information about their “likes,” much as we do on Facebook.   But these likes are not the old-fashioned “walks in the rain” and “pina coladas,” which are activities done as part of romantic rituals, but media-created products that are consumed, such as music and tv shows.  But what do these “likes” really say anything about us other than the fact we pushed a button?

One of my dates went completely downhill when I revealed that I never listened to NPR, as if my lack of radio-listening was a sign that I was a Tea Party member.  I asked another woman if she wanted to see a Broadway musical, and her response was “that she does NOT see musicals.” It was a confusing moment, because I wasn’t sure if she was rejecting me or had some terrible fear of actors belting out songs.

Maybe it is a New York thing, but there has been so much name-dropping on my dates, from alternative bands to Bjork exhibits, that I almost fear being banned from a dating site if I mention my love of ABBA or Curious George Goes to the Zoo.   Before dating, my biggest fear was that I would forget to shave.   Now, I feel like I need to read the right books.

“No, I’m sorry. I haven’t listened to “Serial” yet.   No, I haven’t read Dave Eggers yet.  But I do have a blog.”

“Like Mashable or TechCrunch?”

“No.  A personal blog.”

“What do you write about?”

“You know.   Usual stuff.   Like telling all my friends and the general public all about my dates.”

“Do you make any money doing this?”

“No.”

“Hmm.  I saw you went to film school.   I love movies.   I love Wes Anderson.  You see any good movies lately?”

“Well, last night I watched this movie on cable called “Quartet” about a bunch of elderly opera singers in a British nursing home. It was pretty good.”

“I don’t think we are a good match.”

Do you think common interests in music, TV shows, or movies is the best barometer of a good match? If I watch Duck Dynasty does that brand me as a Republican and Jon Stewart as a liberal, and does it matter what we CONSUME in the media?   Is this “like” mentality, even in dating, the fault of social media?

Admit One

March 24, 2015 / / 2 Comments

admit one

Well, I got through my first three months of online dating using two apps, Tinder and Coffee Meets Bagel.  I had eleven first dates, three second dates, and one third date.  It was fun and I met a lot of great women.  But it was exhausting.  On one week, I arranged three dates on three consecutive nights.   I hated this overbooked schedule but everyone in New York City seems so busy with their lives,  that you come away feeling that if you don’t meet immediately, you will lose your chance to meet anyone, especially with a hundred other potential matches close to their swiping fingertips.

Today, I feel sad, not in an extreme way, but just enough for it to be a “go to bed and eat ice cream from the carton while country music plays on the radio” day.  There’s no reason to be sad.  I’m impressed with myself and how successful I was, considering I haven’t gone on a real online date, well… forever.   Best of all, I have a better idea of what I want.

I started out this enterprise with me selling myself to others,  handing out”admit one” tickets to hundreds of  women, trying to draw them into the carnival show.  But that’s not how dating works.   First comes the chaos of the carnival, and then, only when the dust settles and you find that special woman, do you hand out the one ticket that speaks directly from your heart,  the ticket that reads “admit one.”

Time to go back into the fray – I just made a new first date for Thursday night.

Wild and Crazy Dating Stories

February 28, 2015 / / 3 Comments

tinder

Conversation with my friend Craig, who I met in the street.

“Hey, Neil. How’s the online dating life?”

“It’s good. I’ve met some interesting women.”

“It must be wild. I’ve been reading the articles in the New York Times about all the crazy hookups on Tinder and sex with strangers?”

“That’s the media blowing things up to write salacious articles. They love to appeal to our fears about the internet.”

“I think it’s real. Did you see that video of the 89 year grandfather who fooled all these young women on Tinder? Their reactions will shock you!”

“That’s fake shit. A perfect example of the media using “hot topics” to get hits. I should know, I just wrote something titled “4 Lessons from My Month on Tinder,” which received more feedback than any post that I’ve written on my own personal blog this year. But the truth is, most people on these dating sites are just normal people looking for love.”

“Ha ha, yeah… you mean normal, single people wanting to bring their sexy back… with strangers! Come on, Neil, surely you must have encountered something wild so far?”

“Well, yesterday, I did get a Tinder offer to join a couple in a threesome.”

“Now, that’s more like it! What did you say?”

“I swiped no. I can barely handle one women. Who wants to also deal with her stupid husband?”

I thought when you said threesome, you meant two women.”

“No. It was a married couple. So far, no offers for threesomes with two women.”

“Anything else really wild and crazy?”

“Well, there was one woman who said that before we met for coffee she wanted to Skype.”

“Ooh, for sex talk?”

“No, quite the opposite. She gave me a third degree straight out of “Law and Order” – “Do you smoke? Do you drink? Do you use drugs? Do you ever play cards for money?” I started laughing, thinking she was joking, cleverly being ironic, but she wasn’t.”

“I asked you for a story that was wild and sexy, not crazy and sad.”

“Well, how about this – I found this interesting.  As I am swiping on Tinder – yes, no, yes, no – I come across a transgender person.”

“How did you know?”

“She said in the text under the photo. I am transgender.”

“OK.”

“And I know transgender issues are big now, with that terrific TV show, Transparent. And you know how I am all for LGBT rights, but when I actually encountered a transgender person on a dating site, it made me stop in my tracks. I felt a little hypocritical, because there was no way I was going to swipe right and say yes, no matter what she looked like. I’m just not ready for it on a personal level. I believe in it for society, but I’m not sure I am ready to overcome my own internal bias over what is “male” and what is “female.” I’m not sure I am ready to date someone who is transgender. I thought about writing about this in a blog post.”

“No way. Don’t write that blog post.”

“Why not?”

“Because it sounds like you are anti-transgender.”

“I’m not anti-transgender. I’m just being honest about confronting my own bias. Maybe in ten years I will be able to date a transgender person, but not now.”

“Don’t write the post. You still sound like you hate transgender people.”

“I don’t hate transgender people!”

“So, are you saying that if Bruce Jenner publicly says, I am a woman, operation and all, you still wouldn’t date him?”

“I wouldn’t date Bruce Jenner.”

“The Olympic champion? Someone who has been on the front of Wheaties?”

“I’m not interested in Bruce Jenner.”

“It’s almost un-American.”

“You would date Bruce Jenner?”

“Bruce Jenner – sure. If he is fully a woman. I mean, when I was growing up, there were two posters hanging in my bedroom — Farrah Fawcett Majors and Bruce Jenner. Enough said.”

“Anyway, online dating is interesting because it make you confront your own stereotypes, stuff that we are always so progressive about online but never have to actually confront. Do I like blonds or brunettes? Is she too fat or too skinny? Will I date a woman with three children? A black woman? An Arab woman?”

“You sound very judgmental.”

“I’m probably more open than a lot other people. One woman said she doesn’t date men outside of Manhattan, as if Queens is in another country!”

“So are there any definite NOs for you — other than transgender people? What about dating someone gay?”

“Why would I date someone gay?”

“I always thought you were bisexual.”

“Why would you think that? I’m not bisexual. I’m straight.”

“You’re always talking about Broadway musicals with your friend Danny. I thought you guys had something going on.”

“Danny is straight. He is married with two children. Just because we talk about Broadway musicals doesn’t mean that we are gay. That stereotype is so old.”

“Ok, I get it. The secret is safe with me.”

“But that reminds me of one funny story about gays on Tinder.”

“Ooh! Finally. As a supposed “humor” writer, you rarely tell any funny stories.”

“I told you about that article I wrote for that online magazine titled “4 Lessons From My Month on Tinder.”

“Yes.”

“After I handed it in, the editor asked me to take a photo of someone swiping Tinder on a screen. I said sure, always up for a photographic challenge. So I took a photo of my own hand swiping the screen of my tablet. She said she liked the photo, but since her readership was mostly female, it would be better if the hand was a feminine one, and not one covered with strands of dark hair, inherited from my Eastern European grandparents. So, I went back to my photography studio (AKA the kitchen table), held my hand at a certain angle, and adjusted the lighting so my hand would appear more “lady-like.” I then went into the Tinder app and temporarily changed my preference from men looking for women to men looking for men. I wanted to create a photo of a woman swiping YES to a hunky man.  The photo came out perfectly, but in my zeal for the perfect shot, I accidentally swiped too far, so said YES to this man looking for love. I switched my preferences back to “looking for women,” but all day I was worried about this mysterious NYC gay man. What if he swipes yes back to me? What would I tell him? Would I have to apologize and say that I am not gay and swiped on him by accident? Would he believe me? Would he think I am trying to not hurt his feelings? Would he be disappointed if he found me very attractive and here I was – crushing his dreams? Luckily, and also rather sadly, I never heard from him, so apparently he didn’t feel the same way about me that I accidentally felt about him. Even though I am not gay, it stung to be rejected. I thought about writing about this in a blog post.”

“No. Don’t write about this either. Maybe you should just stay off your blog for awhile.”

Dating Advice

January 22, 2015 / / 7 Comments

couple

Female friend on dating:

“Think about her. What can you offer her? If she is a single mother, her children will come first. Can you be a good father figure? A role model? Can she look up to you as a man? Can you be patient and understanding, and appreciate her for her true self, and forgive her for any of her bad moods? Can you look into her eyes, and without words, tell her that she has someone she can always count on? Do you cuddle?”

Male friend on dating:

“Take your age, divide it in half, and add two. That’s who you should date. Not anyone your own age. Look at Mick Jagger. No one with children. Women with children have lost their sense of humor and if one of her kids gets a bad report card, she won’t be in the mood for sex. No one crazy. No one with a brother or father in the police force. Black women, Jewish women, Latina women all OK. No Italian women. From personal experience. Never use the word ‘cuddle.'”

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