Bobbing for Adam’s Apple in the Big Apple: Epilogue
I’ve told the story of my adventures in NYC to many friends (some have had the misfortune of hearing it >5 times) and in the end, everyone wants to know: “Do you still keep in touch with Adam?” This is one of the reasons that prompted me to write an Epilogue this multi-part saga.
The short answer is yes: Adam and I still communicate. But, before I get to that, let me detail the denouement with Tony the Chef.
What I failed to mention in Part 2 of this post, is that during our date, I added Tony to my Facebook. (Why, you ask? Well, what was I supposed to do when Tony was figuratively breathing down my neck as I searched for him on Facebook, with his smart phone in hand and at the ready, so he could accept my friend request right away?)
The first thing that Tony did once we were ‘Facebook Friends’ was what any self-respecting creep would do: went through my entire profile, and ‘Liked’ all of my bikini shots. Thanks, Tony. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate a man who appreciates my body, but at that stage of our ‘relationship’, he was sending the wrong message. But, as you’ll see, at least his message was consistent throughout…
And truth be told, I’m used to this: i.e. guys ogling my bikini shots. A close guy friend once confessed that the first thing he does when a girl adds him to Facebook, is go through all her beach photos.
Tony and I chatted a few times via the Facebook chat. For your entertainment, here’s an excerpt of our conversations:
Tony: hi baby (: what at are you up 2
Me: going to bed in like 5 min; have to get up early to get ready for my conference
Tony: oh i thought u going to ask meet to come and meet u
Me: yeah, no
haha; sorry! I had to be ready to work tomorrow
Tony: ); when u will come again in ny
Me: Aug 2012
Tony ): no u have to come sooner
(Do I now?!)
Tony: why u dont find the same job but in ny
Me: Because I like where I live.
Seriously, I don't want to move to NY just because. Maybe in a year or 2 I will, but now right now.
Tony: you have to choose me or where u live
(well, that’s an easy choice… and that’s what I told him…)
Me: you know, I've known you for 1.5 hours. So, it's an easy choice to make.
Tony: hahahah, yea i know but i am good guy good husband for u
[…]
Me: Met any exciting people as of late?
Tony: Yea but nothing special! What about you?
Me: Nope - but that's to be expected. Good thing I'm not desperate. I figure I'll give it another 8 years then I'll start getting worried.
Tony: Oh than i can't wait for you
(Oh dear! How will I ever get on with my life?!)
Me: I hope that you weren't seriously planning on doing that!
Tony: Doing what ?
Me: waiting for me
Tony: Why not ?
Me: Because you met me for 1 hr, and I live in Canada, and don't actually have any intention of moving to NY. Or the US, for that matter.
Tony: I move to Canada
(Yes, b'y?!)
Me: Really? Well, I hope it's because you want to, and not for anyone. You are a really nice guy, but not my type. Although, I have to say, but the sound of it, girls in Canada are much nicer, so you'd probably have better luck finding someone here.
Tony: Thanks
(I won’t even start on how I feel about people who don’t believe in capitalization, punctuation, and/or substitute words with numbers.)
See what I mean about Tony being consistent? Consistently creepy. Following that final exchange, I deleted and blocked him. Gents (and Ladies too)… it is absolutely unacceptable to want to move to another country for someone you had known for 1 hour. It is not romantic. It’s a ticket to a restraining order.
On to Adam. I already mentioned that we still converse, and quite regularly at that. He continues to entertain me with his escapades; and I entertain him with mine. I’d describe our relationship as ‘friendship’; nothing more nothing less.
In fact – and I’ll withhold the corroborating details – I’m pretty sure that had we met under different circumstances (i.e. those where I was actually looking to have a relationship in New York) then it probably wouldn’t have worked out with Adam. We might not even have met.
What I take away from my debaucheries in New York is a great memory. And a friend. J
Bobbing for Adam’s Apple in the Big Apple – Part III
I awoke on Saturday morning shortly after 12. Sleeping in is a luxury I don’t often indulge in. But, given that I didn’t get to sleep until 5 am, I felt that I was entitled to it. Plus, what did I really have to do today? Go on a second date with Adam?! Easy peasy lemon squeezy. And as it turns out, it really was! At least, getting that 2nd date.
Upon awakening, I had several text messages requiring my attention: one was from my colleagues inviting me to dinner that night at Nobu, a Japanese-style restaurant in Tribeca co-owned by Robert De Niro. Another was… from Adam. Adam had made good on his promise and texted me a link to the lecture he’d mentioned in our conversation on Friday. Seeing this as my ‘in’ for Date #2, I texted back:
“Thanks muchly! What are your plans for today?”
Adam reply was swift: “[...] nothing spontaneous, but we can plan something if you are up for it.”
YES! (See what I mean? Easy!) And so I replied that I’d be up for checking out the chocolate store he had recommended. In response to which, Adam texted:
“OK then, how about maybe pool game… Best Long Island Iced Tea… and yummy chocolates to top it off?”
How can a girl say ‘no’ to such marvelous proposal? I replied, requesting details of the meeting time and place, stating that I needed a couple of hours to get some stuff done, and mentioning also that I had dinner reservations at 8, but that we could kill the afternoon with his plans. Adam replied with the address of the venue, and suggested we meet at 2:30. I agreed.
(This next little bit may seem to be irrelevant to the story, but I assure you, it is not.) Before meeting up with him, I had to accomplish 3 things: get breakfast, go to Macy’s and Victoria’s Secret. Let’s face it, if you’re a girl visiting New York, you can drop a pretty penny on clothes, so I – exercising an unusual amount of self-restraint – decided to limit myself to only those 2 stores. After perusing the sales racks of Macy’s, I came away with a GORGEOUS black, silk, one-shoulder dress. I almost wolf whistled at myself in the dressing room when I tried it on. The dress screamed SEXY and at 65% off, I couldn’t resist. I then had similar luck at VS, but that’s not crucial to the story.
With 2:30 coming up on the clock, and with my purchases in hand, I hopped on the subways and headed to our rendez-vous location in Soho. Shamefully, I have to admit that I was astronomically late by 30 minutes because of my subpar subway navigation skills. I texted Adam to update him on my misfortunes, and he proved to be understanding. When I finally got there, Adam quickly supplied me with what he claimed to be the best Long Island Iced Tea, and we commenced a game of pool.
Once again, the chemistry we had discovered the night before resurfaced quickly. It was so easy to talk to this guy. He had told me about his adventures of the previous night, which entailed keeping company to a friend who had recently become de-engaged. I told him about my night… In fact, feeling completely at ease, and wanting to be honest, spontaneous, and adventurous, I actually told Adam about the whole mission, including my date with Tony the night before. I also told him about this blog. He asked me a bunch of questions about it, mostly about the motivation behind my writing. To that, I simply stated that it’s a creative outlet and a means to practice the art, and that my hope one day is to write a book.
We chatted some more, about his life and about mine. Proud of my earlier conquest at Macy’s, I also showed him the dress I had purchased. He was impressed, though stated that he’d have to see it on me, to get a better impression.
There were 2 questions that Adam asked me during our pool date that were way out of context. He asked:
- If you had to choose, would you choose Hawaii or Bora Bora? (rationale for this question wasn’t provided; I picked Bora Bora simply because my sister had worked there.)
- Are you a good actress?
That last one really threw me off. My brain went into overdrive trying to figure out why the heck he was asking me this. So, I answered: “I’m OK, I guess…” mentally alluding to the fact that I had partaken in some drama classes/clubs in high school, though I placed myself squarely into C-movie actress category, with a penchant for crying roles. When I questioned him about why he had asked me, he mysteriously, perhaps even mischievously, replied:
“Because when we leave here, you have to do everything I tell you. Are you OK with that?”
Uh-oh. So, you’re probably thinking, that’s kind of creepy. Yeah. It is (or was).
But, let’s look at the facts, that drove me to agree with him: a) I was in a public place (and had no intention of going anywhere private); b) my friends knew where I was/who I was with/and also had his contact information; and c) … if you know me, you’ll understand that I have this adventurous/mischievous streak that sometimes overrides any sense of reason, and inevitably gets me into trouble. Albeit, it’s usually the good kind of trouble; the kind that makes for good stories.
So, feeling empowered by the 2 very strong Long Island Iced Teas compliments of Adam, we left the bar, and headed to – what I presumed – was the chocolate shop.
Walking down the street towards our destination, Adam suddenly pulls me into a random store. As we walk in, I can tell right away that this is an upscale place, and my brain is frantically trying to assess the interior to figure out WHERE THE HECK WE ARE! Giving me not time to think, Adam strides over to the saleslady and introduces himself:
“Hello, my name is Adam, and this is my wife Helen. We just got married, and we’re going on our honeymoon in Bora Bora, and we’re looking for something nice.”
Just as he is saying that, I finally clue in to our whereabouts: a luxury lingerie shop. I’ve frequented my share of lingerie shops over the years to know this was high-end: the velvet draperies, the plush carpeting, mood lighting, and the elegantly clad sales staff all spoke to that. I was stunned, but luckily, I didn’t really have a chance to ask questions because my “role” as “Adam’s wife” had begun. (I could’ve refused, of course, but how often would I get the chance to do something so crazy fun?) So, I grabbed Adam’s hand, and intertwined my fingers with his, snuggled up real close to him – like I imagined a newlywed wife would – and bashfully listened.
The sales girl – Valerie – was cheery and engaging as she led us over to their “new collection” and showed us some examples. She then turned to me, and asked: “Would you like to try something on?” to which – after silently consulting with Adam – I replied with a demure “sure”.
As Valerie set off about putting things into the dressing room for me to try on later, Adam and I wondered about the store, looking at some of the other things on sale. It turns out that this place – Kiki de Montparnasse – is not strictly a lingerie store, but also a … as the website claims it… a store for “intimate toys and seduction tools”. If you’re thinking ‘holy crap’, rest assured at that moment, I was thinking the same. But, I was ‘acting’, so I stowed my shock and awe for later.
Valerie turned up a few minutes later to announce that the change room was ready, and off I went to try on my ‘wedding night lingerie’. The first thing I did when I entered the change room was glace at the price tag: $450.00 for a slip… that’s designed to be slipped off you in 10 seconds or less. My eyes popped out of my head. But, remembering that I had a part to play, I dawned on my expensive lingerie and proceeded to admire myself in the full length mirror. Being in that moment felt pretty darn awesome; I imagine it’s what Eve felt, when on the verge of enticing Adam to take a bite of the forbidden fruit: excitement and danger.
Picture this (actually, don’t… that would make you a perv): I’m standing in the middle of a circular dressing room, enclosed by thick velvet curtains, clad only in a sheer, butt-length slip, and underwear, as my ‘husband’ awaits my reemergence. Deciding whether or not to show myself off, I had a mental conversation with myself that went something like this:
“Should I show him, or not?” followed by: “Fuck it, Helen… Go big, or go home!”
With that, I peeked from within the drapes, and motioned Adam to come in. As soon as he entered, I assailed him with: “This is just your plot to see me naked, isn’t it? To which he replied: “It was your free will to invite me in. I didn’t ask you to do that. You decided that all on your own.” (This was in fact a valid claim, and also topical, since we had had an earlier discussion about free will.) My argument was invalidated.
In short, we ended making out in the dressing room at this lingerie store. Afterwards, I got dressed and left the change room to rejoin my ‘husband’. Informing a disappointed Valerie that we wouldn’t be making a purchase today, but promising to come back later in the week, we marrily strode out of the store.
I think I might have hit Adam afterwards, for making me go through that. However, I couldn’t deny that I had thoroughly enjoyed it. We headed to our next venue…
Luckily, it turned out to be a cupcake store, where Adam bought me a sampler of mini-cupcakes that turned out to be as delicious as they looked. Once these were polished off, we finally made way to our original destination: Vosges chocolate store. Here, Adam once again proved to be a generous giver as he bought me a $27 chocolate sampler. I sampled some of the chocolate in-store, and couldn’t wait to eat more! (My love for chocolate is conditional: I will not eat it unless it’s imported, expensive and exotic, and this chocolate definitely fit the bill.)
We then exited the store, and stood on a busy New York side-walk, contemplating what to do before my dinner reservations which were still 2 hours away. That’s when Adam reminded me that I had yet to show him the dress. And so – with reckless abandon – I turned to him and announced:
“Well, why don’t we grab a bottle of wine, and go back to my hotel room, and I will try on the dress for you.” followed by a precipitous… “BUT, no FUNNY BUSINESS!!!”
I had attempted to say that in a strict yet disarming voice. With remnants of the spiked iced tea still in my bloodstream, I think I only managed disarming. But truly – as I had mentioned earlier – I had no intention of sleeping with him. However, as a close friend once said: “It just so happens that intentions, even the firmest, are easily dissolved in alcoholIt just so happens that intentions, even the firmest, are easily dissolved in alcohol.” Nevertheless, I was determined to be good.
We grabbed a cab and headed to the liquor store that I had spotted earlier, where we purchased a bottle of white wine from a stressed-looking Asian lady. (Fun fact: they can actually open bottles of wine for you in NYC… in case you don’t have a bottle opener in your hotel room. ) With the pre-opened bottle, Adam followed me to the hotel. Once there, we had some wine and shared the chocolates purchased at Vosges. As promised, I tried on my dress for him and he agreed that it looked great on me. And, at 7:30, we parted ways, as I left to join my colleagues for supper.
Okay, Okay! That’s not ALL that happened in the hotel room. We did make out a lot, while Adele’s ‘21’ CD played in the background (Incidentally, this is probably my most romantic memory ever.)
Also, at one point, Adam kindly helped me take the dress off. And, there was some funny business. But I didn’t sleep with him… at least not in the classic definition of what that entails.
(P.S. My real name is not actually Helen.)
Bobbing for Adam’s Apple in the Big Apple – Part II
Before I go on, let me be clear: I was not looking to get laid in New York. All I really wanted (and I know that none of you will believe me), was to explore New York in an adventurous way, and maybe meet some cool people along the way. Back to the story...
At this point in the adventure, it was 11:45am and I had had a fruitful morning: I had a ticket to go see Mamma Mia! on Broadway, and... 2 dates lined up for the evening! Let me introduce to you, the lucky guys:
My first date was to be with Adam – a ‘startup consultant’ (whatever that means). Adam was 27 (my age) and 6’1”. His profile intrigued me (he claimed to be of Frech-Persian-Indian background) as did his initial message to me:
I just had to say ‘Hello’, otherwise I would have kicked myself later. Self inflicting pain is never fun
You not only have an interesting look but you seem like a fun & friendly person, which is rare to find in these parts. The typical lot on here are gunslingers or self-confessed alcoholics lol.
Let’s get to know each other...
Cheers,
Adam
Since I had told Adam that I was going to a Broadway show in the Theatre District at 8pm that evening, he thoughtfully recommended that we meet at 6pm at a Frech-Moroccan cafe called Marseille, located walking distance to the theatre. Over texts, it sounded like he knew what he was talking about, so I agreed to the suggested time and venue.
The second date of the night would be with Tony. After a bit of haggling over where to meet (he wanted to meet me by the hotel, and then go somewhere for a drink, whilst I kept insisting we meet at a particular venue… for obvious safety issues) he suggested a rooftop bar on 5th and 23rd. Our date was to be at 1am, because Tony was a chef and his shift didn’t end until 12:30am. It’s a good thing than in New York bars don’t close until 4am! Still, a date in NYC with some random from online is a dangerous endeavor, so I had other safety precautions planned which I’ll get into later.
Fast forward to 6pm, and I’m walking from my hotel to meet up with bar, dressed in chic white chiffon dress with a plunging v-neckline. In his profile, Adam claimed that he was 6’1” so I took a chance and wore heels. Adam got to the bar before me, and texted to let me know he was waiting (God bless men who are timely!) at the bar. I recognized him right away when I walked in, and settled into a bar stool next to his.
I will save you the details of 'he said, she said' and simply say that Adam and I really hit it off. It’s the kind of feeling that you wish you had after every date. We talked about everything and anything, yet somehow managing to avoid the formulaic date questions. Adam was good-looking, genuine and witty. My mission was off to a great start!
There are just 2 things that I’ll mention of our conversation, that are important for later on in the story. Adam recommended that I visit Vosges, a chocolate store in Soho that is owned by a Russian woman who imports & mixes exotic ingredients to make amazing chocolate. We also discovered we had a mutual appreciation for psychology, and he mentioned a lecture by a renowned English psychiatrist Raj Persaud (the lecture is: Psychology of Seduction) and offered to send me a link, which I eagerly accepted.
About half an hour before my show, Adam paid for my drinks and salad (a pleasant surprise since in Ottawa I’m hard-pressed to find a guy who’ll pay for my coffee) and walked me to my show. As we were walking, I mentioned that it was very pleasant to be in heels and still be eye level with someone, instead of towering over them. Then I had a mini-rant about how most guys in Ottawa were below the national average heigh of 5’8”. Adam nodded to acknowledge what I was saying, then pulled me in and kissed me. Twice.
Pleasantly taken aback, I mumbled a self-deprecating remark about how – if I known he was going to kiss me – I wouldn’t have ordered a blue-cheese salad for supper. To that, he tongue-in-cheekily replied that next time he’ll get me to stop at a drug store to get gum before he kisses me. Then he dropped me off at my show, wished me a good time, and departed. He followed up with a text after the show, but I didn’t pursue conversation as I was now anxiously looking forward to Date #2 with Tony. Although I couldn’t possibly imagine that it would go any better than the date with Adam.
Originally, Tony had suggested we meet at the 230 Fifth Rooftop Bar. I never actually had any intention of meeting some random dude at a bar alone in NYC. I had planned all along to convince my colleagues to go to that bar for the evening’s festivities, so they could ‘chaperone’ while I was dating Tony. However, my plan failed, when they instead ended up at a bar in Soho, and I joined them. When Tony texted at 11:30 to confirm our date, I took the opportunity to change venue. He was OK with it.
In awaiting his arrival, I prepped my colleagues of what was to come. Specifically, I asked that they stay at the bar until they were reassured that Tony wasn’t a creep. I also gave one of them is phone number. And, as a final precaution, I enabled my Google Latitude so others could see where I was at all times (although, having AGPS, that wasn’t a lot of help since at one point, I was seen in the middle of Hudson River). In any case, I felt ‘safe’ meeting up with Tony.
When he showed up (late), he seemed really nice. We grabbed a drink, sat down and got to talking. Tony seemed nice enough, but in contrast to my date with Adam, there were some awkward silences at times. The other awkward thing about Tony is how TOTALLY into me he was; to the point where I felt uncomfortable. This is probably because dudes in Ottawa are absolutely not forthcoming with how they feel about you and you have to pay cash to get a compliment, but luckily Tony made up for every guy I had ever gone on a date with, saying things like: “You are so beautiful; you look much better than in your pictures” and “I really like you. I would like to see you tomorrow” and (my personal favorite) “You should really move to New York”. As if.
So, doing my best to be non-committal, and laughing off his proposal to move to New York, I was busy mentally plotting my escape route. By 2:30am, about an hour into our date, I felt I had put in enough effort into Tony to justify leaving. To precipitate my departure, I told him that I had arranged to meet some friends at a club in the Meat Packing district and needed to be on my way (I didn't actually make that up; my friends were at a club and had suggested I meet up with them after my date was over). Clearly disappointed, Tony tried to talk me out of it, saying that he “really hoped that we could spend more time together”. I barely avoided rolling my eyes at him, whilst steadfastly repeating that I had to go. We hopped into a cab together, made out, and then he dropped me off at the bar. Resisting his pleas to join me at the bar, I said my goodbyes and went off.
My day's mission completed, I felt compeled to relax and have a good time. After all, I had another mission for next day: to convince Adam to go on a 2nd date with me. Fully commited to not thinking about that until the next day, I partied until the bars closed. At the end, there was another positive twist to the evening when my friend and I ended up getting a limo back to the hotel… for $30! But, we actually only paid $10 because we ended up sharing it with 2 guys who were headed in a completely opposite direction, so they picked up the rest of the tab. What a night!
Bobbing for Adam’s Apple in the Big Apple – Part I
This blog post is all about my shenanigans whilst on a weekend trip to the greatest city in the world: New York City (or as it’s colloquially known, the Big Apple. Hence the title). There are a few background facts you’ll want to know in order to adequately follow along:
First, if this post were a movie, it’d be rated PG-13.
Second, my New York City trip is an annual work event. For my job, I manage an internship program, and so every year in August, my interns (hereafter interchangeable referred to as ‘my students’ or ‘my colleagues’ or even ‘my friends’) head to New York for a conference. The conference itself is just north of the city, and takes place Sun-Tue. So, in order to enjoy a bit of the city, we fly down freakishly early on a Friday morning, and spend 2 full days gallivanting about the city. This year my 4th time in NYC, so I’ve done most of the touristy stuff; the only thing left to do, is GTFO of tourist traps and see how New Yorkers actually live.
Third, my colleagues all know about this blog and think it’s the most hilarious thing ever. At least that’s what they tell me. I’m egotistical enough to believe it. As an aside, I have this personal rule “never dip your pen into the company ink” (a.k.a. don’t date someone you work with) and I think I'll be sticking to it.
Still following? Good...
The trip to New York is the most exciting event of my summer because I absolutely love exploring the city. It’s so different from Ottawa, and I thrive on the excitement and adventure that NYC has to offer, 24/7. In prepping for this year’s trip, I was having beers with my dear friend R on the eve of departure (Thursday), abound with enthusiasm for my trip the next day. During our conversation, I might have said something along the lines “I’m going to get into so much trouble” with a mischevious sparkle in my eye. To clarify, by “getting trouble” I meant macking on some dude(s) at a club. However , R, being a guy, and a fellow online dater, immediately asked me if I was going to create a Plenty of Fish (PoF) profile for New York. I was astounded by – what at that time – seemed an absurd suggestion. I hadn’t considered that as a means to “macking”, and quite honestly thought that suggestion was ridiculous, and also dangerous. But, I knew that his suggestion wasn’t unusual as I’ve previously seen similar profiles on PoF and other sites. Even so, I disregarded R’s suggestions. For the time being. (Dundundun!)
So, freakishly early on Friday (I’m talking 4:30am here people!) I’m at the airport with my colleagues, waiting for our boarding announcement and discussing plans for New York. I cautiously tell them of R’s CRAZY suggestion. Ha! Well, they didn’t think it was so crazy at all. In fact, they thought it was a pretty good idea and one student actually said that she’d go on a double-date with me (even though she had a boyfriend).
Their enthusiasm and support really revved me, and I soon learned that I’m very easily peer-pressured into doing ridiculous things at unreasonable hours of the day. Within 5 minutes, I had a Dating profile up on PoF. My tagline was “Looking for some fun in NYC!” (Oh yes I did!) My profile read:
“Hi - I'm visiting NYC this week-end and thought that it's a great idea to discover the city by meeting new people! So, if you want to show me around and have some fun in the meanwhile, send me a message!
I am super fun to hang out with, outgoing and spontaneous.”
Then we boarded our flight for New York, concrete jungle where dreams are made of.
Upon deplaning, my phone was already abuzz with all the messages coming in from New York men, all eager to meet me and show me about the city. I was PUMPED! Excitement soon turned to panic, as I became inundated with responses. I quickly realized that I'm gonna need a strategy for deciding whom to meet, and whom to weed (out). Luckily, this problem was soon solved, when one of my other students declared:
“Here is what you have to do… for the blog, of course. You need to go on 2 dates with 2 guys today. Then, eliminate 1 guy, and go on a 2nd date with the ‘winner’ tomorrow.”
MISSION ACCEPTED.
The Height of the Matter
(Sorry for the delay in between posts. In my defense, I studied and wrote the GMAT this summer, so I have a good excuse. I have, however, been sitting on this article for quite a bit of time. The next one is going to be very fun and will be posted VERY shortly!)
This article can be as short as “Women like tall men. Deal with it.” But if it were, then I’d be out of a job, so I’ll elaborate. As the title alludes, this post is all about height, or in this particular case, lack thereof, and men who lie about it. I mean, c’mon: do you really think we won’t be able to tell you’re 5’8” and not 6’3” like you said in your profile? What a way to start a relationship!
Before I launch into my story, let’s examine some facts: average height of a Canadian male is 5.8’’; average height of a Canadian female is 5’4”. There is no need to conduct a thorough demographics study to witness this trend in action in Ottawa: men here are short! That is a tall statement (pun intended) but, you must understand that my benchmark is my own height, which is 5’9”. And, I love to wear ridiculous heels, which oftentimes makes me – as my friends call it – a giant.
There’s probably a convoluted psychological explanation for why women prefer tall men. A Washington Post article I had read in researching this issue states that height is a ‘status’ symbol, which is – according to the evolutionary perspective – women look for in a potential mate.
Before you all you men go “you’re a typical woman, judging us men by our physical appearance, without giving us a chance”, give me the benefit of the doubt: I’ve tried – I really have – dating shorter men. I just can’t! I have nightmares that I might crush someone. I should probably see a shrink for that… Besides, when you guys stop judging us by the size/shape of our T&A, we’ll think twice about judging you by your height. Deal? (I have a male friend who says he only dates ‘ballerina type girls’. How’s that for judging a book by its cover?)
Now, let’s get to the juicy part of the story, which is my recent date with Josh. Josh messaged me on Lavalife, and he seemed very nice. His photos were …OK. I tend to place a lower emphasis on photos, providing they show some potential. Let’s face it, we are not all photogenic. I definitely am not; my sister got the entirety of that gene from our mother.
Josh’s profile was very witty. He was honest, a little arrogant, but COHERENT. A man who could string together a sentence without spelling mistakes whilst employing appropriate punctuation and capitalization! In any case, his “basics” were admirable: 28, 6’2”, employed, non-smoker, etc. As these things go, we exchanged a few messages before finally deciding to meet. I was pumped: I was going on a date with a tall guy. So, I permitted myself to wear my heels.
We decide to meet at a local gelato place. I got there first. As soon as he walked in, my heart sank. He didn’t have to come close for me to know that he wasn’t 6’2”. OK, he was like 5’11”, not a deal breaker by any means, but my disappointment was rooted in the fact that I was expecting someone who was 6’2” and had worn heels in expectation of it. So, I was disappointed, but that didn’t let me get in the way of wanting to have a good date, so I put on my happy face and proceeded to date Josh.
In honesty, he was a really nice person. We had a few things in common, and our differences made for good debates. As far as dates go, this was a good one. But, deep down, I knew that Josh wasn’t the guy for me. Based on things I had learned about him, I knew that this was not a guy who would ‘complement’ my personality/my life. I’ve gone on many-a-date to know what habits and characteristics to screen for. So, at the end of the date, even though we simply hugged and commented on a mutual good time, I knew that there would be no Date #2.
However, the fact that Josh had lied about his height, just made me uneasy, and so I proceeded to quiz all my friends – both male and female – what they thought of this situation. Most just said that there’s no way he could have made a mistake, and he was just probably a douche. I also asked an old male roommate – who is 5’6 (or 5’7 when he wears the shoes, as he likes to boast) – if he had ever considered lying about his height. His response shocked me. He replied: “Yup, considered it… but chose not to…because first face-to-face impressions are hard enough I don't want to poison it with immediate disappointment.” YES, I thought … that’s exactly what I had felt. I pressed on further, determined to get to the bottom of male psyche (as if!): “Ifyou had lied about your height, would you have actively pursued someone who is at your actual or slightly above your height, for the fear they will totally know the truth?” Him: “Definitely not.”
After some more probing, I decided to confront Josh, to understand why he lied (and also to make this story bloggable). So, a day or two later, I wrote him a polite e-mail stating that while I had a good time, I did not think we had enough in common to warrant a 2nd date. As a PS, I added:
I'm not sure how to do this in a societally-polite way, but are you aware that you're not actually 6' 2" like you say in your profile? A lot of guys don't really know their real height (c'mon, how many of you ever go to the doctor!) so I didn't know if it was your guesstimate, or if you deliberately fudged on that fact.
This is where it gets interesting, as Josh replied:
“I'm actually 5'11" and ¾” and so I round up to 6'0”. I entered 6'0 into my profile way back before metric became the Lavalife default. I distinctly remember seeing 6'0 in my profile. However I do not know my height in cm and so there must have been a conversion mix up and I just didn't notice. I do my very best to present an accurate profile of myself because the truth will come out soon enough. I am keenly aware that a man's height (among other things) is a huge factor in a woman's sexual attraction to him. The fact that you noticed this is proof that it is an important trait! I did not intentionally try to mislead you or anyone else for that matter. Thank you for pointing that out. I will correct it.”
Of interest to you readers, should be the fact that Lavalife allows you to enter your height in both metric and imperial measures. And, in fact, by default, the height is displayed in feet and inches, not in centimeters. In any case, to me that response seemed just odd enough to start to contrive conspiracy theories. However, I am naïve and decided that his mistake was as innocent as I am 
Although, a few days later, I went back to see if he had changed it, only to find that he had blocked me. Smart. But wait… I then asked a friend who had a Lavalife profile to check, and she confirmed that he had in fact corrected it to 6’0”.
In any case, the point of this article is – when it comes to online dating – fudging on facts like body shape, height, or age, is a BAD idea. But just because I said it, ain’t going to make it go away. In fact, a Communications Professor interviewed for that Washington Post article suggests that eliminating deception all together is a bad idea, and calls lying a ‘social lubricant’. I guess I won’t be dating YOU, Professor!
Here’s another funny story about someone who lied about his height: http://us99country.radio.com/2011/05/05/do-men-really-lie-about-their-height/
The Surge of the Supreme Suburbanite
I’ve recently, on two separate occasions, had the misfortune to come face-to-face with a new type of man: The Supreme Suburbanite. Before I get into trouble with my male readers, I’d like to disclaim that this title can (and does) also apply to women. The basic definition of a Supreme Suburbanite is: “a home body with tight schedule.” It is important to distinguish that not all Suburbanites are Supreme; but all Supreme Suburbanites are, in fact, Suburbanites. There also exist Supreme Downtowners, which I confess I am.
I further illustrate this concept of The Supreme Suburbanite (SS) in the typical fashion: with a story.
I began talking to Sam on OKCupid (new mating ground!) sometime in early March. I was instantly drawn to his online persona: he seemed funny, quirky, and light-hearted. So, I initiated contact. We exchanged lengthy and detailed e-mails over about 5 weeks, mainly due to the fact that I was on vacation in an area not consistently serviced by Internet for 2.5 of those weeks.
For those of you who’ve been following my blog since inception, you’ll know that I’m not normally a big fan of prolonging the online relationship, favoring instead exchanging the basics, and then taking it offline to see if there’s chemistry there. Sam wasn’t forthcoming with the invite to meet outside Internet, so I suggested it.
Up until that point, there were only few minor flags about Sam; flags that I was choosing to ignore because of their triviality and my friends’ insistence that these were ‘normal things.’ Like the fact that Sam expressed that he was content with his Government job, and would likely stay with the Government for the entirety of his career. (Apparently it’s not uncommon amongst my peers to want some sort of job security! What a strange concept!) And the fact that he was an introvert, and as such diametrically opposed to my extreme extroversion. However, these were not deemed deal breakers, and thus I suggested we meet up later on in the week, and quoted my availability to be on Wednesday and Thursday evenings.
This is when Sam chose to reveal himself as the Supreme Suburbanite that he was. His response to me was:
Him: “We'll have to work with our schedules a bit. I don't generally go out during the week because it means I have to drive back into the city (since I live in Orleans). So if we did meet during the week it would have to be super early like 3:30pm. I work really early hours, so I'm usually up at 5:00am (which means an early bedtime!) My preference would be on a weekend, maybe early afternoon on a Saturday?”
Before we get any further, if you’re not from Ottawa, substitute Orleans for another suburb that’s within a 15-min drive of the downtown core, and away we go!
When I read this message initially, I laughed and shook my head in dismay. I re-read his response a few times, to make sure I understood it properly. I mean, who do you know that’s available for a date at 3:30pm on a weekday? Granny?!?!
After thinking about it some more, I proceeded to informally poll my friends to see if I was being unnecessarily mean-spirited. I really wanted to be wrong about Sam.
Now, one friend of mine in particular (Male friend), usually berates me for making superficial judgments about people based on statements similar to these. In an attempt to give Sam the benefit of the doubt, I consulted Male friend about the above message, since – not only is he a …well … male – he also lives in this “Orleans”.
Male friend: Are you instantly drawn to him, with all other practicalities aside?
Me: I suppose yes. I wouldn't have messaged him otherwise.
Male friend: So what are you unsure about?
Me: I am unsure about this: <insert text above here>
***Pause***
Male friend: Does that schedule generally work for you?
Male friend: LOL.
I live in Orleans.
Like it's so far. K.
Case closed.
Don't reply. The end. Or like have one random extremely time-specific date and not continue
I live in Orleans. To say downtown is too far is fucking pathetic. Pass on this idiot. […]
…and complementary personalities are okay. But like: “I can only meet on Saturday mornings? That's already a stance. That just clashes with you. That's a practical stance I mean, versus just ideological.
Me: do you have anything else to add?
Male friend: don't know that there's much else to say. Clearly his life is closed off and he's content with being restrictive.
It is my opinion that there is nothing wrong with living the suburbs. In fact, if you’re tired for the constant drunken brawls at all hours of the day that go hand-in-hand with downtown living, then suburbs are in fact a great place to be. In addition, in Ottawa, it’s the only place people (couples, families) with a cumulative income below <$150K can afford to buy property. However, what’s not right is thinking ‘a downtown’ is like the Lost City of Atlantis. Inconceivable, and most certainly, cannot be traveled to, unless on a special discovery mission.
To make this worse, if this was an isolated incident, I wouldn’t have written about it. It just so happened, that I went on a date this past Saturday with someone else, who – first of all, was 10 minutes late because he didn’t know where downtown was; and second of all, didn’t even know what Bridgehead was (for out-of-townies, it’s a local coffee house chain, with multiple locations; some even within a 10 km radius of the downtown). And no, this guy didn’t just move to Ottawa.
Folks! This is why Google (Maps) exists!
Anyways, back to Sam. In the end, even though I really wanted to go on a date with him, and tell him face-to-face that he was close-minded, irrational, and quite frankly OLD, so I just didn’t want to waste his or my time. So, I replied with an honest:
“I'm not sure there's any point to it. It seems that we have opposite schedules…I've twice been in relationships with people who had a schedule completely opposite to mine, and it just doesn't work.
He thanked me for my honestly, wished me luck, and I’ve never heard from him again.
Different Area Codes (Part 3)
Dear audience, out of respect for those going through a dry-spell, I will spare you the detailed play-by-play (although the details are juicy) of James’ and my hook-up.
After the fireworks ended, my friend went home early so I was relieved from my duty of being the “responsible” single girl I’d been in the days leading up to this moment. What followed played out like a typical (though raunchy) young adult rom-com: James and I finally got it on. At the post Canada Day party. Although – and I blush as I admit this – our tryst was a bit premature…Yes, my dear readers, I was, not reluctantly, lured into the coat room, pre-party, where we got it on… on the pile of other partygoers’ jackets.
OK, realistically I wasn’t lured (I definitely came – no pun intended – willingly). And it wasn’t the “coat room”; it was the host’s room (even worse! some might say!). There were also no jackets there, because it was a warm summer’s night. However, there was a lot of inappropriateness going down. I was pleasantly surprised that “the game” that I had thought James lacked outside the bedroom, definitely reared its head in the bedroom.
After my Canada Day fireworks, James and I saw one another once more before I left. As my vacation was ending, I invited him to our rooming quarters for the last night that we were there. Despite the fact that my friend enjoyed James’ company and found him almost as charming – and definitely as funny – as I thought he was, she was skeptical of the awkward situation that his presence would precipitate. But James – bless his something – had a plan.
When faced with the obvious wingman situation, it is imperative that you proceed with caution because you never know if your friend and the wingman will get along. There is nothing worse than alienating either of the parties and – James was astute enough to realize this – I wasn’t going to ditch my friend so that he could satisfy all my needs, while she sat on the sidelines, pondering all the things her boyfriend could be doing to her, had she just. stayed. home. So, he brought in reinforcement.
His friend was funny and charming and – in normal circumstance – amazing wingman material. However, there was one thing that made the friend/wingman combination impossible: he was single, she was not. He was a classic wingman and would perform well whilst picking up in a bar. However, he was no match for my friend, who is naturally predisposed to hating men, especially those sent in to charm the pants off of her (literally). I could tell my friend was in no mood to deal with the situation, and that she was putting on a brave face. Against my better judgment, I succumbed to a little bit of insanity, as I allowed myself to be talked into some quick fun while the impossible duo was otherwise occupied.
As some – who have experienced this – know, there isn’t really anywhere to go, to be alone, when you’re living in an unfurnished house with an inflatable mattress for your sleeping arrangements. Keeping this in mind, James and I chose the backseat of his car. Yes, it seems that the whole “young adult” romance theme was going to stick after all. After the steamy session was over (complete with a hand print down the window à la “Titanic”) we both exited the car only to be caught red-handed by our friends, who had been wondering where we had disappeared to, and came looking for us. The night ended shortly thereafter as we were all tired (James and I for the obvious reasons). So, with a quick kiss, a wave good bye, and a promise to get together again, James got back into the car we’d just exited, and drove away.
By the end of my vacation tryst, I knew that – not only did I have a hoe in a different area code – I would definitely be back for mo’.
Different Area Codes (Part 2)
The night James and I met, we hit it off.
Hit it to first base! FIRST BASE!? I know, right? I showed self-restraint for once in my life, in spite of the tempting, succulent piece of man meat dangling (not literally… that would’ve been awkward) in front of me. I’ll admit that the reason nothing more happened, was because of my friend and the grudging respect I have for those that inadvertently find themselves in “third wheel” situations. Horny as I might be, I respect and pity the poor person who has to sleep alone (or watch) while their friend is ripping the clothes of a guy she just met in the hallway just outside her door. I’m that great a friend.
As days went by, and that night faded into not-so-distance memories, James turned out to be quite different from what I had first though – away from the bright lights of male machismo. He was an enigma wrapped in a puzzle with a killer sense of humor that kept me constantly on my toes. His arrogance broke away to show someone caring and genuinely interested in what was being discussed. He was quiet and watched carefully the things that went on around him. While he examined his surroundings, I examined him. (OK, that sounds like I was a major creeper. I didn’t watch him from the bushes outside of his house or anything. I promise.) What did I notice while I was being a creeper? The man had absolutely no game. “Fake it till you make it” must’ve been his mantra that first night, which had be convinced that I had been talking to a douchebag player (I hate both the player AND the game). But, as time passed, I was amusingly confused by James’ fumbling awkwardness. He seemed like he had no idea how to handle the subtle flirtations I was channeling, and his responses equated those of a high school kid, with clammy sweaty palms. I gave, and still do give, him credit for trying because he did fake it till he made it (or, rather, made OUT. Heyo!)
After that first night, we texted back-and-forth, as is typical of our generation, and agreed to see each other again on Canada Day. This time, James would be visiting my area code, as we all know that no one does Canada Day like our Nation’s capital. My friend and I were happy we had the hometown advantage when it came to the celebrations. After spending a day on the beach and getting last minute tattoos (yes, last minute decision tattoos; the crazy Ottawa girls were on a rampage of randomness that caught the guys by surprise), we were on our way to the fireworks display that was sure to disappoint. The lesson I had already learned about the city and its occupants should’ve resonated with me as I was preparing myself to be disappointed (for those of you that skipped the mushy part, the lesson was: don’t assume, be prepared for the unexpected).
The fireworks were astounding. The park was packed with the whole city watching but I felt like the only girl there. You see, there were fireworks going on both in the sky and on the ground, where I was snuggled next to James. While he offered commentary throughout the show, we stole quick kisses that had me wishing we really were alone. Later that night, we got the chance...
… Part 3 of 3: “Sucks to be you”
Sucks to be me? WTF?!
Let’s collectively explore the following scenario: pretend that you’re a guy, and you’re been on a date with a girl 4-5 times, but nothing major has happened. The most you’ve done is kissed… once. You’re talking to her one day via SMS, and you find out that she’s sick, what’s your instinctive response?
Answer: _____________________________ (100 points)
When I surveyed (many) friends, the answers were fairly unanimous, ranging from verbal well-wishing (“Awww, that’s too bad. Feel better soon.”), to some sort of outward gesture of caring (i.e. offers to bring soup over.) NOT ONCE…in my informal data collection did anyone say: “I would say to her: ‘sucks to be you.’”… which is what I got from Darryl.
That statement – of which I was on the receiving end – is further exacerbated by the fact that when he was sick just a few days before, I did offer my sympathies as per societal expectations. In the end, it was just this sucky and tactless remark that did Darryl in. Once I got the “sucks to be you”, I bluntly retored: “Well, that’s rude,” then launched into a detailed list of his deficiencies leading up to the inevitable “I don’t want to talk to you anymore.”
However, that remark was only the final nail on the proverbial coffin. Here are some other things that Darryl did that helped prematurely (or perhaps postmaturely) end our relationship; acts that I urge both boys and girls to abstain from:
A kiss is a kiss is a kiss
… unless of course, you think it’s not. Modern society prevalently paints women as the more clingy of the sexes. But, I assure you, men can be overzealous too. At this point, I want to admit to all that I DID IT. I kissed Darryl. Once. Why? Because I wasn’t sure if we had any chemistry between us, so I wanted to see if there was a spark once our lips met. This was clearly a mistake, because ensuing conversations – which were mostly of me telling Darryl that I really only want to be friends – were met with the following question: “then why did you kiss me?”
Did I miss something here? Has there been some sort of major societal reform since the last time I had kissed a man (July 2010)? Does kissing a guy now mean that I am committing to having babies with him? I didn’t think so….
White picket fence dreams
As the name implies, it is usually the women usually make plans for the happily-ever-after (i.e. a hubby, 2 ½ kids, a dog… middle to upper-class living, etc.) Men…make plans for their fantasy football leagues. The vice versa, doesn’t happen. Or does it? Apparently so!
During one of our initial dates, I had told Darryl that I was planning on going back to school in 2 years (2012). He was cool with that… ‘cause he himself was very career minded, and wanted the same in his partner. Keep in mind here, that before the below-mentioned conversation took place, I was fresh from telling Darryl that what I wanted most was to be friends and nothing else (at least not now). Can you imagine my surprise, when the following wordy exchange took place early, one Sunday morning, as he messaged me to cancel our breakfast date, because he was sick?
Darryl: “It’s too bad that I have to cancel; I was really looking forward to seeing you.”
Me: “Oh, well… I’m not going anywhere. At least not for 2 years!” (Jokingly, referring to the fact that I’m probably going to go away for school after 2 years)
Darryl: “Oh, where are you going?”
Me: “Right now? On my way downtown to retrieve my car. I left it there last night because I had been drinking.” (I obviously understood what he meant by ‘right now’, and chose to play the dumb card.)
Darryl: “No silly. Where are you going in 2 years?”
Me: “School. Remember?”
Darryl: “Oh right. I wish I could come with you. Maybe I can come visit you..."
In case you’re wondering, yes… he was actually expressing his wish to come with me, when I went back to school 2 years from now. Failing that, he did really want to come visit... in 2 years... when I was back in school. Maybe I'm just getting my knickers in a knot, but when that exchange took place, I chose to run the other way (thought, at that point, only figuratively.)
In hindsight, I could’ve predicted that Mr. Texty-Text was a clinger. After all, during the 100 questions, he did mention a one-night stand he’d had, and along with it his righteous disappointment that she had never called him back. At that time, I was too “reserved” to point out that “isn’t that the whole point of one night stands?” Not that I would know anything about that…
And so, my time with Bachelor #4 was certainly the most memorable, but for all the wrong reasons. This experience also left me quite discouraged about dating, and so I hadn’t gone on a date since then.
I will let Randi take over the blog for the next little while, and I assure you that she’ll keep you more than entertained.
… Part 2 of 3: 100 questions to ask a man before making an emotional commitment
Before I launch into the “meaty” part of this post, I'll provide some background: In the past while, I’ve been indulging in something I like to call: introspection, extrospection, and retrospection. In layman’s term’s, it’s called self-analysis. In doing so, I noticed a somewhat disturbing trend: I tend to “emotionally commit” to a guy, before realizing that he has the sort of deal breakers that ought to make me run in the opposite direction once they are in the open. Let's define what I mean by "emotional commitment":
Emotional commitment: it is the turning point in your relationship beyond which you’re willing to fight to save the relationship rather than give up on it.
So, I began to contemplate how to unearth deal breakers of a potential mate, prior to emotionally committing to him. The difficulty herein is that – habitually – it takes time to get to know someone; it’s a gradual process. Consequently, the longer it takes to learn about someone, the greater the probability that I will have emotionally committed to that guy before the deal breakers are revealed. Let's be honest here: we only show our good sides during the "honeymoon" stage of the relationship.
Allow me to provide a concrete example of this emotional commitment problem: the last guy I dated was a smoker. I am so against smoking, that I usually don’t even consider going on a first date with a smoker. However, in this situation, the fact that he smoked was revealed on Date 2 – by then, we had already had 1 ½ great dates. Furthermore, during this 2nd date, he was convincingly adamant of his intent to quit. So, I decided to give him a chance. He never did quit, and that was definitely one of the major reasons for our breakup.
To segue [pronounced: sey-gwey or seg-wey] back to Darryl, I had come up with this emotional commitment theory shortly before going on date(s) with him. Therefore, he was the perfect guinea pig for my solution to this problem. The solution, hereby to be known as my chef d’oeuvre, is:
100 Questions to Ask a Man Before Making an Emotional Commitment
Now, administering these questions (see below) can be a tricky manner. This was especially difficult as a first instance of this exercise (which I intend to continue.) In fairness to Darryl, I warned him about it, and actually asked him to come up with 100 questions to ask me. I also was completely honest with him as to why I was doing it.
So, we did it (NO, we didn’t actually do it) across multiple dates, sitting across from one another, and firing questions at each other in a staccato manner. In hindsight, I'd say it's best to deliver these questions in a more indirect way, worked into the flow of the "get to know you" conversation. However, whatever the deliver you choose, you MUST NOT lose sight of the goal of this exercise. Therefore, I at the very least, suggest having a concrete set of questions.
DISCLAIMER: below you will find my 100 questions that I intend to ask men before making the repeatedly aforementioned “emotional commitment”. Not all of the questions are deal breakers; in fact only about 10% are, and they are cleverly disguised. If you choose to engage in a similar exercise, I urge you to do some personal reflection and figure out what questions to ask, that would reveal potential deal breakers. Without further ado... enjoy!
100 Questions to Ask a Man Before Making an Emotional Commitment.
General
- How many times have you been in love?
- What is your best characteristic?
- What is your worst characteristic (as cited by girls that have broken up with you)?
- What is the most hurtful thing someone has ever said to you?
- Have you ever been angry enough to get into a physical fight?
- Do you make friends easily?
- What are you doing now that will help you achieve your long-term goals?
- What is the best gift you’ve ever given?
- What is the best gift you’ve ever received?
- What are characteristics are you looking for in a partner? Name 5.
- What is your favorite Disney movie?
- How do you feel about PDA’s? To what extent? (i.e. hand-holding, kissing, making out, dry-humping, etc.)
- Do you like to dance?
- Would you ever take dance lessons?
- When was the last time you got piss drunk?
- Do you think you have a good sense of style?
- Favourite clothing brand & store?
- Do you like hosting parties/dinners?
- Do you play video games? If ‘yes’ how much?
- What is your “type”?
- Are you a leader or a follower?
- Does it matter what your family/friends think of the person you’re dating?
- How much do you care about others’ opinion (non just in matters of dating)?
- Do you have a best friend(s)?
- Do you like camping?
- Do you get jealous?
- Would you do “anything” for love?
- Do you watch: The Simpsons? Family Guy? Trailer Park Boys? Real Life?
- What is the worst thing you’ve ever done while in a relationship?
- Do you spit in public?
- Do you consider yourself a good driver? (i.e. do you tailgate?)
- Do you floss?
- Do you generally have good or bad breath?
- Do you go for regular physical exams?
- What is your creative outlet?
- Do you like learning new things?
- What’s your definition of compromise?
- Do you recycle/compost?
- Do you like costume parties?
- How do you feel about yourself?
- Do you consider yourself a romantic? What’s the most romantic gesture you’ve ever made?
- Which do you prefer: big spoon or small spoon?
- How many employers have you had in the last 10 years?
- Do you have a criminal record? Have you ever been arrested?
- How many girls have you lived with?
- Have you ever seen a psychiatrist/psychologist for any issues in the past?
- Have you/would you ever consider living/working in a different city and/or country?
- What is your favourite book?
- What’s your biggest fear?
- Do you believe that there’s only one person for everyone out there, or we can make it work with different people, in different ways?
- Do you ever have trouble expressing your feelings?
- What irritates you?
- What is the nicest thing someone’s ever said to you?
Family:
- Do you have a history of any diseases or illnesses in your family?
- Who is your role model?
- Are your grandparents still alive?
- How many kids do you want (ideally)?
- What’s your favourite childhood memory?
- Do you remember your when are parents’ birthdays?
- How did your parents meet?
- Do your parents ever fight?
- Do you give money to charity, or do any charitable work?
Lifestyle:
- How do you feel about health and fitness?
- Do you respond to nagging or encouragement?
- How would you describe your cleanliness: are you OCD clean? Very clean, moderately clean, or just whatever? (Explain difference between clean and tidy here. Good follow on question is: how often do you dust, clean your bathroom, sweep/vacuum)
- What does your room look like right now?
- Do you like to travel? Where would you like to travel to?
- How much do you love money? (Alternate question: what, to you, is “enough” money?)
- Do you have any savings?
- How do you feel about debt?
- Have you ever done hard drugs?
- Do you make up your bed in the morning?
- Do you clean the toilet bowl?
- Do you like the arts?
- Do you ever go to the NAC for performances; if yes, what kinds?
- Have you ever been fired from a job?
- Do you budget?
- Have you ever filed for bankruptcy? Would you ever?
- If you lost all your possessions today, how would you feel? What would you do?
Values:
- Do you believe in marriage?
- What are your feelings towards living together before marriage?
- What are your feelings towards divorce?
- How necessary is it for the person you marry to take on your last name?
- Have you ever stolen money?
- What is the most “ethical” thing you’ve ever done?
Sex-related:
- What are you thoughts towards safe sex? Have you ever had unprotected sex?
- Have you ever worn/or had the urge to wear women’s lingerie?
- Have you ever had sex (of any kind) with another man?
- Do you have any non-standards sexual fetishes?
- On a scale of 1 to 10, how much do you like blowjobs?
- How many sexual partners have you had in the past?
- Hold old were you when you first had sex?
- Have you ever had a 3-some, or more?
- Have you ever gotten a girl pregnant (that you know of)?
- How often do you think is “normal” to have sex in a relationship?
- Do you watch porn?
- Have you ever paid for sex?
- Have you ever filmed a sex act which you were part of? If yes, can I see it?
- Have you ever had any STIs? Do you get tested often?
- How many one-night-stands have you had?