Chick On a Date

adventures in online and offline dating

“Excuse Me, Sir, But I Can See Your Junk”

I went on a first date recently. I know, color you surprised, right? This was a couple weeks ago, and it’s taken me this long to stop laughing long enough to actually write about it. Because that shit was hilarious.

So I was on this date with this guy. He is just an average guy, about my age, kind of good looking but not in the “Oh, God, I want you right now” kind of way. (Wait, is that just me who has that criteria?) He was really sweet and very friendly. We met at a local (to him, not me) bar for happy hour. This is a good kind of date to have: you can check him out, have a drink, and then make a break for it if he’s not your cup of tea. Or you can always suggest dinner if it’s going well. You get the idea.  Anyway, he walked in and sat down and we had a nice little convo going. You know, like the weather, his kids, my kids, the asshole bartender who apparently forgot we were alive for a while there…

And then he got up to go to the bathroom. I make a point of checking a guy out coming and going in a situation like this. Gives me a view of the goods without my being really obvious about it. I can look without staring or seeming rude. And don’t be all judgmental, people. You know you do the exact same thing.

So he went to the bathroom. And then he came back a few minutes later. And he had forgotten to zip up his pants.

Ordinarily, this wouldn’t be such a big deal.

Ordinarily, a man is wearing underwear under his pants.


But this guy wasn’t. Wearing underwear, that is. Yep. I saw everything. Frank and beans. He came sauntering across the room like a big old stud, with his little friend just winking at me beneath the flash of an unzipped zipper. I almost choked on my drink. The problem, then, was how could I point it out to him without making him aware that I had seen IT? I didn’t want to embarrass him, but the way his pants were unzipped, that thing was practically flapping in the breeze. No shit. There was no way I could say, “Hey, dude, the barn door is open” without him realizing I had spied the merchandise. Because it was really out there.

We sat there for what seemed like an eternity, gazing at each other over the table. I had one more drink, trying to decide what the hell to say. Because I sure as shootin’ couldn’t just let him get up and walk out of the place like that. THAT would be even more rude than saying something.

Finally, I said, “Um, so I noticed when you were coming back from the men’s room that you may have forgotten to zip.” And he looked down. He looked down for a good long time. His face didn’t change. He just looked. Then he reached down and zipped up. I heard, audibly, the zipper getting zipped up, even over the noise of a bar during happy hour.

Not another word was said about it. We ended up parting ways soon after. He asked if he could call again, but he hasn’t, and he won’t. There is no overcoming something like that. He didn’t have the je ne sais quoi to pull that shit off. Maybe another guy would have; not this one.

I have to admit: I giggled all the way home. And then I giggled when I woke up the next morning. And then I giggled when I told a friend about it. I’m sort of smiling right now, actually.

Here’s the kicker, though: Even if this guy did have the balls (yes, pun intended) to call me after something like that, I wouldn’t go out with him again. Because that thing was nothing to write home about. Just saying.

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Separating the Men From the Boys

Lately, I’ve been changing lanes — biding my time in the slow lane instead of whizzing down life’s highway (isn’t that a song?) in the passing lane. Yes, I know that metaphor totally sucks ass, but it does describe my dating life recently. For a while there, I was going on way too many dates again. You know you’re dating too much — especially too many first dates — when you can’t remember who you saw on Wednesday and which guy has kids and which guy doesn’t like horror movies. I’m never going to meet anyone of substance if I look at it like a race, now am I? So I’ve slid my wheels into the far right lane for some slow and steady dating, taking one day and one guy at a time.

Slowing down is definitely the right thing to do, but I noticed a couple things when I was dating all the time. There are men, and there are boys. I’m not talking about age here. A guy can be a 50-year-old boy, for sure. Similarly, a 32-year-old can be a mature man. From my observations, here are a few of the differences:

1. A boy gets pissed off if you have plans when he wants to see you. A man realizes you have a life and has a backup plan in place.

2. A boy wants to jump into a “relationship” after two dates. A man realizes it takes some time to get to know someone — and he is willing to put in the time.

3. A boy spends a lot of time bitching about his ex(es). Yes, on dates. His bitter rants get old real quick. (If you haven’t dated for a while, this is very, very common. And very, very annoying.) A man knows that everyone over the age of … let’s say 15 … has an “ex story” and may have had their hearts broken too. He concentrates on the here and now and the woman he is with, not the one he is no longer with.

4. A boy thinks he has to be macho all the time. “Emotion? What’s that? I’ve never cried in my LIFE. And yeah, I’ll eat that pepper; I KNOW it’s the hottest in the world.” A man gets a tear in his eye at a sad movie and if he’s afraid of heights he is okay with confessing it.

5. A boy wears Ed Hardy shirts and sports perfectly messed up hair. He thinks he’s hot shit. A man wears paisley on a first meeting so you can spot him in a crowd, and he is pretty happy he still has hair. His self-deprecating sense of humor is endearing.

6. A boy gets angry and calls you names when you let him know you’re not feeling the chemistry. A man knows you’re not gonna be a perfect match with everyone you meet and is gracious when you cut him loose.

7. A boy drinks way too much on the second date. And he’s not a fun drunk. A man has a drink or two and takes note of your drink of choice so he can remember for next time.

8. A boy expects you to like exactly the same things he does. He may even make fun of you for not liking something he does. A man celebrates your differences and likes to show you new things. He’s open to exploring your interests, too.

9. A boy is always looking over his date’s shoulder for a cuter/cooler/hotter chick. A man looks his date in the eye and makes her feel like she’s the only woman in the world.

Slowing down has allowed me to get to know each man (or boy) as an individual. I’m giving the people I date some time so I can learn about them instead of feeling they are all interchangeable. Cruising along in the slow lane has taught me to be patient and allows me to spend more time with a guy before I make up my mind about whether he’s the right one for me or not.

Maybe I’m finally a woman instead of a girl.

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Chick On a Date Gets Some More Mail

Apparently people don’t learn: Every few days or so I get messages from people asking me questions or making comments about my blog. Here are a few of my recent favorites:

Dear Chick On A Date,

How do you feel about interracial dating?



Dear Wondering,

What, did we get in a time machine and go back a few decades? Does anyone even give a damn about the skin color of our partners these days? Okay, okay, I realize some closed-minded people probably do care, but if that’s what they’re worried about, I pretty much don’t care what they think anyway. The short answer, I guess, is I feel fine about it.

Dear Chick On A Date,

Is it acceptable to date your cousin if you don’t plan to marry them or have kids with them?


Kissing Cousin

Dear Kissing,

What the fuck?

Dear COAD,

I am in love with a guy who doesn’t know I exist. How can I make him notice me?



Dear Invisible,

How about talking to him? If you have been and it’s not working, maybe you should move on. Just because you like him doesn’t necessarily mean he’s under any obligation to like you back, no matter what you do. I suggest you not use sex to get his attention, because you’ll just feel worse if he takes you up on it and then still doesn’t notice you. And grow a pair.

Dear COAD,

Can a long distance relationship work?

Guy in France

Dear Guy (I am pronouncing that the French way in my mind, by the way),

Probably not long-term. But hey, I’m willing to give this a shot if you wanna send me a ticket to Paris so I can get to know you.


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“Weeding Out the Weak Salmon”

Okay, what I am going to say here is borderline mean, since I am actually going to copy word-for-word an actual profile (of course, I won’t include his name) from the Plenty of Fish dating site. I never really do this (copying a complete profile), and there are far worse profiles than this (hard to believe, but true) on this and other sites, but I was just stunned when I read this after receiving a message from a man that read (again, copied word-for-word):

“Hello hun, did anyone ever tell u should be a model?? Wow beautiful!”

Yeah, this was the complete message. Sadly, this is not uncommon. In truth, I die a little inside every time I read something like this. I know the guy is probably trying to flatter me, but instead it just comes off as creepy. And I’m not stupid enough to think that I’m THAT hot. A little hot, maybe… heh.

I didn’t respond to this message, and a few days later I got another one from the same guy. This one read:

“Pls look at my profile and pics! It took me a year to write & I think you will understand me more if you read it!”

So, I read it.

Here it is:

“Hello everyone. I am looking for ladies to entertain. By that I mean dine and talk. I like casual eating areas that are quiet enough to be heard in. I am a retired circus clown who had a part time mime job until the economy went bad. I have traveled most of the world, except Afica, but there will be a war there eventually. I am not looking for a specific type of women but I prefer those who are professional and can hold a decent conversation. You will be treated with respect by me. Hope to hear from you. One day I hope to master the ancient area of skullduggery. Not really but I love that word.

I love to play the guitar and would have been a rock star but the rings called too strongly. Love 80s new wave, rock in general and blues and old country. You can tell me if you prefer Mystified or Woman of a 1000 years from Fleetwood Mac, about sixteen years apart and that will tell me enough about you.

Those jobs above are a joke but the real ones will come if we eventually mee

Right now I am eight months from earning a degree and possibly looking for another job, hopefully in Minne. I plan on doing five more years in the guard and sixteen more for the government. Retirement at 59 sounds good. 

Nothing makes me unique but my DNA. However, I can charm you with a solid wit and respect. I have heard that women have their barriers and I have probably weeded out all of the weak salmon my this time but if you are still leaping upstream then drop a line and watch out for bears.

I will try to catch you but fish are very slippery here and the site was named appropriately.”

I think this speaks for itself, don’t you?

Don’t cry for me, Argentina. But the rest of the world should.

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