New York

I am curious about ladies who date multiple people at once. Jugglers. I mean, this is a city replete with multi-taskers, so I suppose it only makes sense that it would overlap into the dating scene. And I feel like the stereotype is that men casually balance a few gals at once, so it seems only fair that women should be able to do the same. And me? I am the queen at multi-tasking. According to my friends, sometimes it's to a fault (reading while driving). I make my lists, sometimes scrawling on tiny scraps of paper, or using my handy “notes” section on my iPhone.

Listen. If we just say what we mean, what we want, who we are, what we are looking for, this whole dating thing would be a lot easier. I mean, let's be clear from the get go, you know what I'm saying? If you like me, tell me! (Ok, ok, ok . . .no need to go overboard here. A simple “You're a cool gal” will suffice. I don't want to feel claustrophobic.) And for some reason, this city starts blurring lines when trying to define a date. Sometimes I think I am on a date, but really we are just friends hanging out.

To Jersey101Summatime, Thank you for the email telling me how hot you think I am. I have to admit that I did not even read your profile before deleting your message. Why would I need to after seeing your two profile photos that highlighted you and your guns? I am not complimenting your massive biceps, though they were impressive in your tight t-shirt, I am referring to the literal gun you are brandishing in your photo. That is a first, and hopefully it will be the last. I am dying to know if you score any chicks with that ploy. Oh, and the other photos that showed your artistic side?

I want to start off by saying that Bob is not a bad guy. He is not a creepster douche bag that deserves a little mockery in exchange for disrespect. Instead, Bob is a guy that walked into my salon last Thursday morning, with a flimsy excuse to “scope out the digs”, who chatted me up for twenty minutes. He had a bejeweled band on his wedding finger, so I assumed he was married and just wanted to flirt. Then his inquiries got a little personal, and he asked me my age and whether or not I was “spoken for”.

Dear John. I've never written a “Dear John” before, and I feel very old fashioned, or romantic, or nostalgic, or really just like my normal self, only different. Who was the original John? I envision him in army fatigues, or something a little smarter, like a lieutenant's uniform. Handsome and young. Freshly shaved and scrubbed clean. Dear John, or Unwelcome lover who I no longer want in my life, And here I thought I'd rid myself of you for good. I patched the weak spots and filled the open spots, making myself impenetrable, stronger, a wall.

Opposites attract. Of course. We've heard that idiom countless times, Paula Abdul sang about it with a cartoon cat that liked to smoke (I write this with a straight face, I swear) and you have probably even experienced this phenomenon firsthand. But what happens when you are attracted to someone that is your synonym? Surely this must happen a lot, and yet there is no catchy phrase to toss around like “opposites attract”.

I have this theory about dinner dates. First of all, you can never go wrong when offering to pay for a girl. I mean, I like women's lib just as much as the next girl, but I am also living in a super expensive city and I am not one to look down on free food. Also, if you are the one offering to take me out to dinner, if you pick the restaurant, it seems only appropriate for you to treat. I know this is not a novel idea by any means, but I am hoping some dudes read this and take it to heart. But here's the deal, when you treat a girl, you should do just that.

Some people have inquired about the authenticity of my dating blogs. Here is the truth: My stories and anecdotes and experiences are true; they did happen in real life and in 2011 and in New York City. Fortunately, not all of these things have happened to me. Unfortunately, they have happened to my closest friends. And, let's get serious, most of these stories are mine.

How about I suggest we go grab pizza, and then you concur, and then follow that up with an email telling me that times are tough and would I mind treating you?
How about we go on two dates, have very little physical interaction, as in no goodnight kiss, even, and then you send me a text that says, “Text me if you like nice guys with big [expletive]”.

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