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Dear Readers,
Dating & Hookup website is being overhauled. We will be back at you soon with more great, provocative content and brand new multimedia developments. We’re excited. Please stay tuned!
In case you had any doubt that dating is dead, we held a funeral for it – and buried forever the harmful and irrelevant notions about romance, women and relationships that have plagued us for so long. RIP!
As Victoria from The Village Voice writes, we “have no problem bidding goodbye to bullshit rules of courtship.” Nope. Not at all.
(VILLAGE VOICE: dah GIRLS Jessica Donalds & REBECCA WIEGAND HOLD FUNERAL FOR DATING)
Every lady knows and loves and yearns for this guy. The One Who Got Away.
By definition, he’s not in my dah, but he’s been in my life for practically all of my 27 years.
We met – as it were – as toddlers in the mountains, where our families vacationed at the same rustic resort. There’s a photograph of five-year-old, platinum blond, chubby-faced me staring at him across a wildflower field. He had long, curly, silken dark hair and in the picture, he’s wearing a red t-shirt and looking back at me cooly, like a miniature rebel without a cause.
If you go up to the resort even now, there’s a piece of driftwood where we both wrote our names in magic marker, probably that same year. He’s a year older than I am, so his name is spelled correctly and mine has a backwards B and Y.
It wasn’t until much later that I consciously knew I was in love with him. I was 12-years-old, with knobby knees and ears that stuck out, but I was still a sun-kissed, freckled blonde and had happily evaded the awkward ‘awkward phase’ that had stricken most of my friends during this time. At home in the suburbs, I was making out against lockers and in his bunk-bed with Rob The Hockey Player, though refusing every day to ‘be his girlfriend.’ I had that compulsive desire for male attention (even adolescent, slightly be-pimpled male attention), but I knew I was saving up my “official” love life for someone truly epic.
That’s when I re-encountered him, The One Who Got Away, on vacation with my family in the mountains.
In real life, if there were a dah category called “The Guy Who Gives Lots of Love Advice to his Female Friends,” then this week’s dah guy would be a perfect fit. Well, there’s not! But lucky us, we got to pick his brain and glean his post-dating wisdom anyway. Keep reading for some male advice on relationship sex, long-distance flirtation and why men are such assholes.
To submit your questions for next week’s column, email us at with “Ask A dah Guy” in the subject line!
Flikr: https://www.flickr.com/photos/goodsophism/
Ten years ago, I was a senior in college just about to graduate. To celebrate, I went out with some of my best friends and my friend Jake, who had brought along his friend Mark.
We all spent the night dancing like crazy to hits of the 80ʼs, drinking and having a great time. Mark and I started dancing with each other and, as the night went on, he kissed me on the dance floor.
Finally.
I was finally one half of a couple at middle school dances that makes out like crazy on the dance floor in front of everyone not giving a fuck – except please remember I was a senior in college, like of legal drinking age.
I had never met Mark before, but I knew that he and Jake had been friends for a long time. If he had Jake’s approval, then I knew he was a good guy. Also, he super cute, so, yes please.
Ok, so I did know one thing about Mark; I knew he had recently broken up with someone. That was fine with me, as I was leaving town soon anyway. I was going to use Mark. Not in a mean way. It’s just, come on, this was the perfect opportunity for me to get some real dates under my belt before I headed into the real world.
As the night wound down, Jake drove us home as Mark sat next to me in the back seat holding my hand.
Ever since that moment in “My So Called Life,” when Jordan takes Angela by the hand in the hallway, in front of all of his friends, declaring their relationship; holding someone’s hand is all I’ve ever wanted.
As we got to the bottom of my street, I told Jake that it was OK for him to drop me off there. I kissed Mark on the cheek, got out of the car, and began to walk up the steep hill to my apartment. It was almost 4:00am, the moon was setting, and the sun was just starting to rise. The street and sidewalks were wet from the rain earlier in the night. The streetlights, still on, were making things very romantic.
It was like a fucking movie, yʼall.
https://www.flickr.com/photos/istolethetv/
Oh happy day! Finally a refreshing piece on why dating is so broken, from a MAN. A real man.
The conversation around the ills of modern dating seems to skew very feminine. It feels like women are the only ones brave enough to honestly question the current romantic climate. The result is the sad, desperate girl narrative, of which we’re all too aware. What’s wrong with me? What am I doing wrong? Am I just choosing the wrong men?
Finally, a man has spoken up! In his piece, “Is Your Boyfriend Muscle Out of Shape,” on NYMag’s The Cut, Jeff Wilser publicly questions his serial dating behavior. At 38, he finds himself repeating the same patterns and bad habits and wondering, “Is it me?”
Yessir. It is you! Thank you.
You know that moment – that nice guy, who’s very nice, nicely asks you out on a nice date and you say yes because you want to be… nice. He’s so nice he probably just wants to take you out for a nice cage-free dinner and talk about some nice literature and have zero expectations from there because nice guys don’t have expectations – that’s why they’re the nice guys. So you go on your nice date, and he opens doors for you and that’s nice, and he pays for you and that’s nice, and he tries to kiss you and you’re like EXCUSE ME GOOD SIR. Because nice can only take you so far. And you want to rewind the clock to when the nice guy asked you out so nicely and say, “That’s very nice… but no thank you.”
We have such a hard time saying the second part of that sentence. Letting someone down easy is still letting someone down, and the people-pleaser in all of us tends to buckle under that pressure.
Now that I’m in a relationship, I thought this “nice guy dilemma” was a thing of the past. But I should’ve known better, because science taught me that at a very basic level, things are neither created nor destroyed. And so, of course, this dilemma never disappeared. It merely transmogrified and then lay in wait… until it resurfaced, undetectable, when a friend invited me to join her book club.
BOOK CLUBS, Y’ALL. THE NICE GUYS OF NON-SINGLE LIFE.
What happens when you can’t remember the name of the man in your bed? You give yourself an insane bathroom mirror pep talk…duh.
Boys, boys, boys. You know I love you; most of the time you are my favorite thing! However, we need to talk about your online dating profile picture.
Itʼs not good.
In fact, I hate it. We hate it. But, letʼs try to fix this! Because I want to meet you for a drink and maybe make out with you afterwards.
Here are a few changes you can make so that I will find you interesting enough to swipe right.
Has it always been this hard to figure out whether or not you are on a date? This article in New York Magazine says that “73 percent of women report having no idea if they are even on a date or not.” Let me reiterate: 73 percent of women (that’s nearly three quarters, if you’re bad at math like me) can’t figure out the difference between a date and a non-date when they’re on one.
The article goes on to attribute this confusion to “booty calls, text-based love affairs, and the long-term fantasy relationships we have with people’s Tinder profiles before even speaking to them.”
I think that’s just plain wrong. Rather, people just aren’t being clear with their intentions. It’s the fault of both the man and the woman (or the woman/woman, man/man, etc.) for being purposefully vague. Yes, it can be confusing to have so many different types of non-committal relationships surrounding us, but that doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t be able to tell whether what we’re involved in is romantic or just friendly.
Iʼll admit Iʼm a little late to this game, but Iʼm still going to play.
In the last few weeks, issues that women have been dealing with for centuries have become a huge topic on the internet. It started with an episode of Louis CKʼs show, Louie, titled “So Did The Fat Lady.” In the episode Louie is pursued by a woman, Vanessa, who is confident, smart and cool, and also fat. Later, the shooting in Santa Barbara started the hashtag, #YesAllWomen, which has given woman a platform to share their stories about inequality, harassment and assault. It’s become clear; we all have a story.
For women, everything about us is a topic of discussion. If you wear a dress, you are open to any and all comments from the opposite sex. If you wear makeup one day and not the next you get asked, “Are you okay?” If you gain weight, itʼs an entire discussion, an intervention even. As my friend Sarah explained it to her boyfriend, “How would you like it if people talked about your hair loss…ALL OF THE TIME?”
These topics have made me so proud that they woke up the eighth grade feminist in me. Talking about these issues is touchy, to say the least. They are raw and honest. However, no matter how taboo these topics are, they are important; we need to tell our stories.
I have always struggled with my weight. It was something that was not tip-toed around when I was a child. My parents would sit me down to discuss my weight, and kids would make fun of me because of it. Good times had by all. But, a chubby kid grew into a chubby adult and, here I am, single and the best friend youʼll ever have, but never fall in love with. I am not the girl who gets set up on dates. I am the girl who gets over looked on Match.com. I am the best friend to all of the beautiful girls and the chubby, funny sidekick to all of my guy friends.
I am a fat girl.
The worst thing about breakups is when they never happen. When you get dumped, when a guy or girl breaks up with you, then you can watch Almie’s video and take her sage advice, and you will suffer and grieve, but you will survive. But what about the non-breakup? The disappearance? The ghosting? The slow, inexorable self-removal of a person from your life, via unreturned text, via sudden, unexplained, constant busy-ness, via silence.
You think you want closure. Or you think it’s “just a phase” and that s/he really is that busy right now. Or you make a list of all the things you did wrong, all the signs you should have seen, all the ways in which you let yourself get too invested. Too vulnerable. Too needy. Too independent. Too Much Too Soon, or Too Little Too Late. You blame, blame, blame, him, her, or yourself. You dwell and obsess and it all spirals down into anger, hurt and sense of helplessness or is it hopelessness? No. The sadistic thing about the non-breakup, the slow fade, the disappearance is that there remains a tantalizing sense of hope. You guys had something! It was real! Technically speaking…it hasn’t even ended! Maybe he/she really is just that busy right now!
And so it goes, but that is not the worst part.