R.I.P. Our Second Date

I'm here today to say goodbye to our second date. I never got to know you, but I heard great things about you and how much fun you'd be. It's a shame that your time on this planet was cut short before we got the chance to meet.

But, he did talk about you. Oh yes, several times during our first date he excitedly said that for you, our second date, we would go miniature golfing. He raved about you, assuring me that it would happen the following Saturday. I already picked out my outfit in my head. 

After golf, he was going to take me to dinner at this little BYOB that only uses food procured from local farmer's markets. A perfect mid-summer's evening with my new man! The world was our oyster and our second date was going to be the pearl in that oyster.

You sounded lovely, second date, but I'll never feel that putter in my hand and I'll never taste those yummy organic dishes. And, I'll never know you because he never called me to schedule it.

Oh God, this is hard. I'm sorry, everyone, I promised myself that I wouldn't cry.

Maybe, second date, you were just too beautiful for this world. I hope that you're happy up there with your brother, Guys Who Joke About Marrying Me On The First Date Rarely Want To Marry Me By Our Third Date. He, too, left this earth too soon. What a tragedy.

Goodnight, my sweet prince. Every time I see a star twinkle in the night sky, I'll think of you up there, winking at me like the class act I knew you'd be. 

R.I.P. Our Second Date

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Little Known Fact: I Would LOVE To Fix Your Brows

We have a date tonight. Before I see you, I'm going to go through an entire routine to make sure every inch of me is in tip top shape. I'll enter my bedroom at 5:30pm looking like a treasure troll and emerge at 7:30pm looking like Gisele. I'll bronze, buff, wax, and lather myself silly just so I can see your eyes light up when you see me walk into the living room. And I'll blow the last shreds of my paycheck on a too-tight dress because I know you like it that way.

You, on the other hand, will jump into the shower at 7:20pm, decide your stubble is "dashing" at 7:23pm, and sniff your favorite shirt before tossing it on at 7:27pm. Then, you'll tap your toe impatiently at 7:29pm when I'm not ready yet.

It takes TIME to look this fine, my friend. You're always pleasantly surprised by the outcome, so slow your roll with the impatience. You're a dude; of course it takes you two shakes to be ready. But you know, there are things you can do to make yourself look even more fly. No, no, I love the old shirts and the 5 o'clock shadow. I'm talking about the homage to the Grinch on your forehead; those Uncle Sam brows need to go. And oddly enough, I would be tickled pink to do the honors.

As a girl, I take pride in my ability to beautify things. I will gladly hover uncomfortably close to your face, my tongue poking out of the corner of my mouth, as I handle those tweezers like a Jedi eyebrow master. Give me five minutes and VOILA, a work of art that is neither Groucho Marx nor Jersey Shore juicehead. You have the perfect man-brows now. You're welcome.

So don't be afraid to ask. And, don't go trying to fix them on your own. We all know what could go wrong there.

Little Known Fact: I Would LOVE To Fix Your Brows

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Little Known Fact: We Judge You Based On Your Netflix Habits

The second time we came over to your house, we noticed the Netflix envelope on the coffee table. It was looking pretty rough; the coffee rings and thin layer of dust told us that little guy has been hanging out for a while. "Hmmmm. Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers." Whatever.

Flash forward to date number four. The same DVD is still on the coffee table in the exact place we saw it last. There are two more dusty discs on top of the DVD player. One is a random disc from the second season of Lost and the other is a pilates workout DVD. "Since when have you taken up pilates?" we asked.

"Oh, I got that out for, uh, my last girlfriend. I really should return those."

"Yeah, you really should," we agree, with a hint of sarcasm in our voice.

Guys who don't return their Netflix DVDs in a timely manner get on our nerves. Do you want us to pop 'em in the mailbox for you? Should we do your laundry while we're at it? Maybe chop up the food on your plate too? Get it together, man! We're the ones that lose out because when we come over to hang out you never have any good movies to watch.

If we suggest we watch something off Netflix on Demand to tide us over, we enter the barren, neglected land known as his Netflix ratings. You haven't rated a thing! They're suggesting 101 Dalmations and The Pink Panther 2 as movies you'll love. No ratings? There are algorithms that could expertly suggest quality movies that you are choosing to not employ. It's crazy! And, your queue looks like shit. There's four movies in there and half of them star Jean Claude Van Damme.

Why don't you just take your money, ball it up into a wad, and chuck it out the window. Netflix means nothing to you. You don't deserve those expert algorithms. You don't deserve them.

Little Known Fact: We Judge You Based On Your Netflix Habits

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Little Known Fact: You Look Like An Asshole In Every Picture I've Seen

*flip, flip, flip* Don't you have any pictures where you look like a normal human being? You make a weird face in every. single. picture. you're in. Here are the repeat offenders:

The Mugshot: God forbid you smile! You look like you got busted for shoplifting at Urban Outfitters and had your picture taken in the backroom. Is this really you? Because it looks like I put the Oz DVD on pause. I've seen Amber alerts with more pizazz.

The Twee Ceiling Eyeroll: I have no idea why you think this pose is cute, but this is your stand-by look. It's really weird to see a guy make this face, with his eyes sweetly looking up at the sky like he's composing his own conversation heart message in his head. Are you in Camera Obscura? Do you get excited about cupakes? Do you have an Etsy site where you sell anatomically-correct hearts screenprinted onto oven mitts and dishtowels? You are not Amelie! You cannot pull off this pose.

The Crucial Brutal Metal Face: Your face is contorted, like you are yanking God's balls right off his body. It's amusing for one or two takes, but a whole roll of this? You're trippin'. 

The Little Kid Supersmile: Both of your eyes are closed and you are making the widest grin in every picture. What the fuck? Did you just get a G.I. Joe for your fifth birthday? Did you just get promoted from cub scout to whatever rank is above cub scout?

The Impromptu Gang Sign: It's like having a "thanks for the add!" MySpace glitter .gif come to life. That's not a good thing. 

Honestly, I hate all of your picture poses. Can't you just smile at the camera and leave it at that? Is it too much to ask that you channel George Clooney or Johnny Depp and project some manly confidence? Oh well. I guess having a camera pointed at your face turns you into a freakazoid.

Did we miss any photo offenders? Leave 'em in the comments.

Little Known Fact: You Look Like An Asshole In Every Picture I've Seen

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Little Known Fact: Apparently, I'm the Gateway Drug to Having a Girlfriend

You may not think you want a girlfriend now, but after you date me, I can guarantee you'll want to lock it down. How do I know? I am the gateway drug to a relationship. Like how after-school specials warn you about the dangers of weed, I will unlock the door to your relationship desires. Dating me will make you hunger for more commitment. With someone else.

While we're dating, you'll act aloof, distant and slightly morose. You'll be thinking about the last serious relationship you had i.e. the one that makes me think that you actually know how to be in one. But, whoops! It turns out that you're not completely over it! And, whoops! It took us banging for you to figure it out!

And after you explain how you're "really not ready" to go to the movies/zoo/drinks with me anymore, I'll feel mildly sorry for you. I'll think, "Geez, that last GF must have done a number on him." And then, like a docile pothead transformed into a raging crackhead, two months later we'll run into each other at the bowling alley and you'll have another girl on your arm. Suddenly you're cured of your relationship ills and you're hooked on the stuff! Oh look at you being such a devoted and charming boyfriend laughing with her friends, taking her out to nice dinners and showering her with affection. You're a full-blown relationship junkie, by the look of it.

Hey, don't say I didn't warn you. One hit of me and you'll be boyfriend material--for someone else--in no time. 

Little Known Fact: Apparently, I'm the Gateway Drug to Having a Girlfriend

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Little Known Fact: We Will Judge You Based On Your Chat Icon

Don't get me wrong; we're thrilled when any guy wants to talk to us one-on-one. Bonus points if he can use a computer and string together a sentence. However, initiating a chat with us is a dangerous proposition. We are entering a minefield of potential disappointment and it hinges on the little picture he chooses to display as his icon. This isn't a full-on Back to the Future II-esque video chat we're doing here, we just wanna see his handsome face in our chat window. Is that too much to ask? Apparently, it is.

Worst of the worst: Cartooners. If he pops up in a chat and we see a rendering of himself as a tiny cartoon, we take pause. Why did he do that? We feel like we're chatting with his WiiMe profile. This is our least favorite of all the chat icons because it seems so immature, like he'll blow us off because he was too involved in his video game to return our call. Or, he'll pout when we want to try a new restaurant on our date because he wants to go to his favorite pizza joint for the gamillionth time.

Bad: Default pic. It's like chatting with a chalk outline on the sidewalk. Is he not aware that he can upload a picture? Is he too gnarly to show his face? Are we chatting with Sloth from the Goonies? This is the chicken fingers of chat icons: a boring choice for a boring person.

Not as bad: Something legitimately funny or offbeat. Is that a Tiger Woods picture he's using? That's kinda funny. Is that Sigfried or Roy? Doesn't matter; it's still funny. These are the same guys that will have over 400 Facebook pictures but they'll all be of strange images he found on a weirdo Tumblr blog. On the plus side, this guy will probably have entertaining stories about when his band toured Japan, but he'll have stupid tattoos in prominent places. It's a trade-off.

Eh: The chronic picture changer. Whoa, fella, who puts this much energy into their chat icon? It's like a Viewmaster with you! Everytime we talk you have something new. There's nothing wrong with the images you choose, it's just jarring to see a new pic every single time. You're like the Pepsi logo; always changing but nothing is really a marked improvement over the one before.

Best: A picture of him looking handsome or his cute pet. Slam dunk! Now when we chat, it's like a smile exchange program. I say something and smile. He replies and smiles. We'd make an awesome Christmas card. Also, a picture of his doggy making a cute face is a great icon. However, it must be a pet that he actually owns. Stock photos of animals don't count; it has to be an animal he provides direct care for. Not to be a stickler, but that's a biggie.

Are there any that we missed? Leave 'em in the comments.

Little Known Fact: We Will Judge You Based On Your Chat Icon

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Little Known Fact: I Will Secretly Judge You Based On The Hotness Of Your Name

Ah, the name game. From our reader, Lilja:

I know it’s not your fault. You didn’t have a choice in the matter. It probably happened before you were even out of the womb. Nevertheless, the awful truth of the matter is that your name is not hot. I am rather particular when it comes to names and the dating game. Accordingly, I am secretly disappointed when you introduce yourself to me in that crowded, dimly-lit bar full of Joe Schmoes as “Al,” or “Bob.” It’s tremendously superficial and judgmental on my part, I know. However, just like you can’t help the fact that your parents chose to name you something bland and generic, I can’t help the fact that I have trouble remembering your name, especially after a few drinks.

When I get an ambiguous text from you the next day, I have to scratch my head trying to remember whether it’s “Mike D,” or “Mike G” that I’m talking to. You’re hot and interesting; why can’t your name be hot and interesting too? Why can’t it be something like BARACK? I can remember Barack! It’s unusual, powerful, and downright sexy. Not to mention, the name of some other really important guy.

Now here’s where it gets even more intense: first names don’t matter nearly as much as last names. If we even get so far as to last name basis, I will secretly judge you based on the appeal of your last name combined with my first name. If they don’t go together like "rama lama lama, ke ding a de dinga dong," the chances of this relationship getting serious are diminished. Just lettin' you know. 

Ok, the worst name we've ever encountered was a guy we met at a bar in Chicago named Matthew Perry. Seriously, he had the same name as Chandler Bing's real life counterpart. He showed us his driver's license to prove it. So yes, we made out with Matthew Perry, but we giggled the entire time we smooched because the whole thing was so ridiculous. We'll be honest, it was a bit of a kick having his number in our phone for like two minutes, but who on earth would want Matthew Perry's phone number? That puffy washed up pill popper? He looks like Beaker from the Muppets. The Matthew Perry we hooked up with was just a spiky-haired punk kid, but the association was too strong to break. No thanks.

Little Known Fact: I Will Secretly Judge You Based On The Hotness Of Your Name

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Little Known Fact: I Will Judge You Based On Your Ability To Drive A Stick Shift Car

What do Indiana Jones, Batman, James Bond, and the guy who drove the tractor in Aerosmith's "Crazy" video have in common? They all (presumably) know how to drive stick shift cars. And, that's hot. Very hot. I LOVE it when I'm driving with a guy and he's downshifting on turns and zooming through the gears to get to 65 mph.

However, when a guy picks me up and I see that his car is automatic, my heart sinks a little, like I've just learned that he has a hotmail email address or that he has never lived out-of-state. He probably likes Domino's Pizza and thinks that the Transformers movies are good, too. [Wow, that was a baseless, sweeping generalization. Sorry 'bout that.]

It takes initiative to learn stick shifts. And, once you learn it, you'll see that you have more control over the vehicle and it keeps your mind sharper as you drive. Stick shift guys know that the neutral gear is your friend. And, it's always fun to just jam it into second gear once your car is in motion. First gear? Don't need it! That's what I'm talkin' about.

Honestly, I think it freaks some guys out when they see that my car is stick shift. I feel like some part of their subconscious thinks it's unfeminine perhaps? I'm not even going to get into the Freudian implications of a woman jockeying a stick shift with skill (which I'm sure there must be.) I don't know and I don't care. I love my stick shift car and all the guys that can drive it. Vroom vroom, gear shifting straight to my heart.

Little Known Fact: I Will Judge You Based On Your Ability To Drive A Stick Shift Car

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Little Known Fact: I Will Judge You Based On How You Wear Your Backpack

The way a man wears his backpack can tell me a lot of information: Mainly, would I ever agree to be seen with him out in public or not. We like a simple backpack on our men, nothing too intense, bizarre, strappy, or kitchy. But, really, we are mostly concerned about how he wears the thing.  

Worst case: One loosened strap over the shoulder. I don't want to date a guy who looks like a sixth grader in a hurry. What are you, a weed dealer? You know what the Hunchback from Notre Dame, Eurotrash, and Screech from Saved By The Bell have in common? They all look like you! It's hard to take a guy seriously who rocks this look. I will avoid eye contact. I will pretend I don't speak English. I will get the RCs (retard chills) and deny any friend requests he sends me from here on out.

Good case: Both straps on shoulders. Much better! Well, now he looks like a citizen with good posture. He looks like he had a good night's sleep, ate a balanced breakfast and did his homework. He probably shows up two minutes early to appointments. Yes, I would love to take a stroll around the park with you, young man. Cheerio!

Potentially best case: Both straps on shoulders along with the harness straps clicked into place. That buckle tells me that he values security. He is high-tech. He uses a laptop. He carries his phone charger around with him. He will text you back in a timely manner.

I mean, look at Patrick Stump over there. How cute is he all bundled up like that? I just want to run up to him and tighten that strap with my teeth. Is this how guys feel when they catch a glimpse of our bra strap? His backpack gear is basically a garter belt for his chest. Check yes to that.

Honorable mention: This isn't even a backpack, but a guy with a messenger bag is totally ok. If done right, it can make him look like a scrappy English professor. If done wrong, it can make him look like a 1997 music convention attendee.

Did we miss anything? Do you agree? Leave your comments, in the, uh, comments.

Little Known Fact: I Will Judge You Based On How You Wear Your Backpack

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Little Known Fact: We Secretly Judge You Based On Your Astrological Sign

*Deep breath* Confession: When I see those astrological magnets in line at Whole Foods, I nod along at the accuracy of their descriptions. This is a big thing for me to admit and it probably seems borderline crazy. Accordingly, I have been known on occasion (read: every single time) to consult my horoscope to see if I am astrologically compatible with my new dude.

I will literally hold out until the last possible second to check our compatibility in the "stars" because if it says that we aren't a good match, it's a total downer. Where do you go from there? It's right there in black and white: he's an earth sign and I'm a fire sign. Earth and fire? It'll never work! It's out of my hands. Or, maybe he's a water sign and I'm a fire sign: he'll extinguish my fire. No wonder why we bicker constantly.

On the off-chance that it says that we are a sound match, I feel as pumped as if my mom had personally given him her seal of approval. It's like our union has been blessed by the heavens; like Orion himself has given us the go-ahead. How insane is that? I never pay attention to horoscopes otherwise, but when it comes to love matches, I'm hanging on every word.

I've dated all across the zodiac. There are even a few signs I've vowed to never date again. Sorry, Pisces, it's not you it's me. Actually, it's every horoscope I've ever consulted that says that we are a terrible love match. Is that weird? Am I the only one? Are there any signs that you'd never date again? Leave 'em in the comments.

Little Known Fact: We Secretly Judge You Based On Your Astrological Sign

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Little Known Fact: I Would've Preferred A Fadeout

I'm gonna suggest you take a cue from Kid's hairstyle and do a fade on me. It's fine. Really, you didn't have to craft me an email about how you feel about dating me right now (more specifically, that you don't want to do it.) And, you don't have to text me saying, "Is there a good time we can talk?" Honestly, I'd prefer it if we didn't talk about this shitshow attempt at dating we've been trying to do the past few weeks. Personally, I was planning on just not returning any of your calls again. That's what I was thinking. Especially after our last date when we got in an argument about politics and then you snapped at our server for taking too long. I knew right then that this wasn't going anywhere.

I tried to communicate this to you psychically, but maybe you didn't pick up on it. I wish there was some document I could sign letting you know that I'm totally okay with you blowing me off but alas, this post will have to do. It will not hurt my feelings if I never hear from you again. I will still badmouth you to my girlfriends, but that'll be pretty much it in regards to my ill will. If anything, your fadeout would be a relief. I am looking forward to never seeing your name pop up on my cell phone and pretending we don't know each other should we cross paths again. Hey, the more you know!

Little Known Fact: I Would've Preferred A Fadeout

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Little Known Fact: I'm Not Interested In Grabbin' Coffee As A First Date

Full disclosure: a coffee shop during the daytime is not my best dating arena. It's like having a gladiator fight in a tea garden; it's not the proper venue for the moves I wanna execute. Is this something he suggested we do because this is what adults are expected to do, like paying our bills online or throwing a dinner party?

I'm not sold on this coffee date idea because I don't want to:

• Meet you somewhere well-lit. We might as well have our first date in a dressing room at the Gap. Fuck that.

• Make small talk with a semi-stranger (i.e. him) while I'm sober. It just doesn't sound fun or sexy. Sorry.

• Run into someone I know. I'll introduce my date as a friend, but I'll ask it as a question like, "This is my friend? Pierre." Then, my buddy will detect my hesitation, picking up on the fact that I am on a first date. She will nod knowingly with a wide, fake smile and back away slowly with a hint of pity for me, like she just walked in me during a job interview that I'm tanking.

• What if we hit it off? I'm not gonna grab a second cup of coffee. If we went out for a drink, at least I could grab another beer seamlessly. I guess that's the point of meeting at a cafe; to limit our interaction time but still, sometimes another beer goes a long way.

• If he talks my ear off, I'll have to sit there with an empty coffee cup pretending to listen as I get increasingly more jittery. I'm already nervous! Now, I'm nervous AND jittery.
  

• Say goodbye to him. Do I give him a handshake? A high five? A hug? A kiss on the cheek? I already know that we'll both will have coffee breath. Eh. Count me out.

Couldn't we have just met up at a wine bar? Or, a bar where he knows the bartender and can hook us up? To paraphrase James Van Der Beek in Varsity Blues, "I don't want your coffee date!"

Little Known Fact: I'm Not Interested In Grabbin' Coffee As A First Date

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Little Known Fact: I will Judge You Based On What Instrument You Played In Middle School

[Warning: This post is bitchy and judgmental. I'm sorry about that. I clearly have strong opinions about this issue that you may not agree with. If I offend you about your instrument choice in middle school band, I sincerely apologize.]

Usually around the third date we ask our guy about what activities he participated in during his adolescence. If he admits to playing in his middle school band, then we can deduce a lot of information based on which instrument he chose.

As a former clarinet player, I can say with some authority that all the hot guys in band played drums, saxophone, guitar and trombone. The middle tier were the string section, trumpet players, tuba players, french horners, and the other clarinet players. At the very bottom of the band totem pole were the boy flute players. If a guy admits that he used to play the flute, well, let's just say that it would've been better if he admitted that he attended clown college.

Well, my guy admitted to playing the flute. My face couldn't hide my disappointment. I immediately thought of us as an eighth grade couple; him carting around his little purse-like black flute case and me dying my hair black, devouring issues of Spin magazine on my beanbag chair, and flipping an L7 cassette in my boombox. I hate us as an eighth grade couple. It never would've worked!

Now, every time we kiss, I think about his pre-pubescent pinky stiff in the air, dexterously maneuvering over the airholes as he huffed away on his warm-up scales. Consequently, I will never be able to take him seriously. After we break up, when I get upset that he has a new girlfriend, I'll just remind myself of his flutist ways and cackle. Could he have picked a less masculine instrument? Maybe a triangle, but that is more jokey. At least it's not a piccolo, or God forbid, a harp.

He will be known in my circle as "the Flutist." We will whisper it through the caverns of KFN: "Yo, I saw the Flutist at the Barbary last night. He was looking banged up." We'll scrawl it on the bathroom wall of the P.O.P.E. "Beware the Flutist! He's a dick." He will never live this label down, even if he wins the Nobel Peace Prize. I don't care that he has advanced college degrees, cool sneakers, a rad cat, and an appreciation for aged whiskeys, he will always be the awkward middle school flute player to me.

Little Known Fact: I will Judge You Based On What Instrument You Played In Middle School

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Little Known Fact: We Don't Mind A Little Bit of Back Hair On A Guy

There, we said it. In fact, we think it's kind of manly in a grunting caveman way. Hey, our ancestors used to kick it with neanderthals, right? Maybe there is some kind of evolutionary gene buried deep within our subconscious that is attracted to fuzzy wuzzies. We can't explain it, but we can't deny it either. Guys with moderate amounts of back hair are totally welcome in Casa de Shmitten Kitten.

Don't get us wrong, a full-on ape cape is still a tough sell. If we can braid your back hair into a friendship bracelet, then we are gonna have to have an uncomfortable talk with you involving the words "shave" and "it off." We ain't tryin' to get with no werewolves, but a few sprigs of hair peeking out over the top of your shirt collar are not horrible.

Guys out there with back hair, we just wanted to let you know that it's cool; you can take your shirt off poolside this summer. Don't be shy: Fly that fur flag! Strut around like the manimal you are. We dig it.

Are we crazy? Where do you guys land on the back hair debate? Is there even a debate because last we heard, no one else has talked about it.

Little Known Fact: We Don't Mind A Little Bit of Back Hair On A Guy

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Little Known Fact: I Will Judge You By Your Email Address

It's pretty much Gmail or bust over here in Shmitten Kittenville. If you use anything else for your personal email, we will judge you accordingly. Having a Gmail account means that you appreciate functional design and progressive technology. I'm not saying that we'll be a perfect match--and, we won't hesitate to block you on gchat if it doesn't work out--but, it's a promising start. When we see that you have a Gmail address, we let out a little sigh of relief, like maybe you won't show up to our first date wearing the dreaded blue-o duo: a bluetooth and a shiny blue button down shirt. Yesssssss!

A Yahoo address is eh. It's alright. It's not the worst, but it makes us think that you're still stuck in the '90s. You've probably had that address since high school and you're too clueless to upgrade. Let me guess: you still have a Blockbuster card too. Let me take another guess: you probably have a CD binder in your car and a polyphonic ringtone on your chunky Nokia. And, if it's something silly like scoobydoo14@yahoo.com, I'm just gonna go ahead and assume that you're secretly a teenage gamer that slams Mountain Dews by the bottle.

On the shitlist: Hotmail, MSN, Comcast, and--cringe cringe cringe--AOL. If we see any of those email addresses written on the cocktail napkin, it will raise an eyebrow. This email address is ancient. You probably didn't even pick it; we bet that it was set-up for you by your techie cousin in 1996. You probably only use the Web to check your email, check the weather, and to monitor your stock portfolio. Just thinking about you logging in to Hotmail bums me out. And, your email address is telling me that you basically hate the Internet. Already your prospects are dimming.

If your hobby is referenced in your email address, like surferdude98@hotmail.com or njscooterkid@aol.com, we will assume that you are barely legal. It's like Chris Hensen will jump out of a kitchen if we even think about emailing you back. We also will assume that you slather gel on your bangs so that they are all stiff and pointy.

The only exception to these rules is if you have your own customized account, like donald@trump.com or joe@totallyawesome.com. The other exceptions are if you have a school address or your work address. We are neutral to positive about that. Although, it's a little puzzling why you're using that instead of Gmail. To paraphrase Busta Rhymes, if you really wanna party with me, get a freakin' Gmail address.

*Apparently, my Mom thinks that I'm being way too judgmental in this post. She frowned when she read it. (Just between us, she has a Yahoo address so I think she's being defensive.) What do you think? Am I being too critical or am I right on the proverbial email address money?

Little Known Fact: I Will Judge You By Your Email Address

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