Dating Diaries: A Series
Sometimes Dena Harris writes books and sometimes she blogs. Then sometimes her blog posts have themes that lend themselves nicely to future books. These days, Dating Diaries is the series that gets a fair amount of attention. (Don't judge a blog by its comments. Facebook killed the blogger comment thread, as far as we can tell around here.) Enjoy the most recent posts from the Dating Diaries series, below:
About four months after B. and I separated, he asked if I could meet him for dinner. He had some news. The "news" was that he would more or less be living in Paris for the next 12-24 months, overseeing a European company purchase made by his company. For anyone not in the know, B. and I parted on excellent terms and have remained friends. I was thrilled for him, but couldn’t resist a small tease.
“So you’re saying that if I had hung on for four more months, I could be a freelance writer living in Paris?” I asked.
Lots of people go on a date with a hidden agenda—inspire passion; find a spouse; score a free meal, but how many women are actually provided with an outlined agenda for how a date will proceed?
Digging through old emails, I found this gem. This came from an intelligent and witty PhD that I met one night when I was out with girlfriends. We had mutual friends in common and he was writing a book. He got my email by asking if I’d be willing to read...
My last post about “good” dates was so popular, I’ve dug deep in my memory and unearthed a few more examples of why, sometimes, when the planets align, dating doesn’t totally suck.
[Click here to read the first installment in case you’re the kind of person who freaks out when you read things out of order.]
Good Date #4
I am not one to mark dates. “It’s the 3-month anniversary of our first kiss!” is not a phrase you’ll hear coming out of my mouth. But I was meeting a date for dinner and happened to have looked back at my calendar that day in search of something else, and randomly saw the first night I’d met Good Date #4 for a drink.
So that night at dinner, I mentioned it.
“This is actually our 6-week ‘anniversary,'” I said.
“Shit,” said my date.
“Okay,” I said. “Slightly hurtful and not the reaction I was hoping for, but we’ll roll with it.”
I emailed Mom to ask where she wanted to go for Mother’s Day, suggesting that we go out on Saturday to avoid the Sunday crowds.
“I’d love a good steak,” she emailed back. “Maybe Applebee’s?”
“We’re not going to %$^$** Applebee’s,” I emailed back. “But I will take you out for a steak dinner.”
I made a reservation at one of the best steakhouses in Greensboro. The service was impeccable and our waiter was a very handsome gentleman, one of those silver foxes who could be 55 or an extremely well preserved 65. For the record, my mom, at 72, could easily pass for 62.
The conversation turned to dating and I encouraged her to get out there. She waved me away.
POLYAMOROUS (as defined by Urban Dictionary): The state of having multiple sexually or romantically committed relationships at the same time, with the consent of all partners involved.
POLYAMOROUS (as defined by me): Asking for trouble.
NOTE: This is not my story to tell, other than a fact that I was a witness to it. You know if this happened to me that I’d have no issue calling it out. So thanks to my friend with enough self-confidence and a sense of humor to allow me to share her story here.
Let’s set the scene. My friend is a stunningly beautiful woman, who annoys me to no end by also being smart, funny and sexy. (I don’t need the competition.) She's recently out of a long-term relationship and was introduced to an (ahem!) much younger guy who expressed immediate interest
In contrast to what I usually post (i.e., “I rock, men are stupid.), I’ve been challenged to share some happy examples from my time spent dating. This is both easier and harder than you may think. I’ve had more than my share of fun coffee or dinner dates where there was plenty of laughter and conversation. Those are difficult to write about, however, because who wants to read, “And then we shared a good laugh over office politics?”
Never one to shy away from a challenge though—and also to prove that I’m not a curmudgeon at heart—I give you three real-life, these-were-totally-awesome, dating moments.
Good Date #1
I met my date for a trail run (Calm down, Mom, it wasn’t a first date. I knew him.) with plans that we would grab a casual dinner after. Instead, at the end of the run he produced a picnic basket...
I almost forgot about this one. Which would have been tragic, because it’s too good not to share.
How to start?
Remember what you considered romantic as a teenager or maybe even dating in your early twenties? And I assume you are in touch now with how it kind of makes you cringe to even think about what you used to think of as sexy?
This is a story about a guy who apparently had such success in his youth with his Rico Suave moves that he never felt the urge to change or upgrade them.
In an admirable “don’t-dish-it-out-if-you-can’t-take-it” display of solidarity, today’s Dating Diaries doesn’t call out the bad behavior of men. Instead, I’m pointing the finger at myself.
Naturally, when you start dating after 20 years of marriage, safety is a top concern. It ranks right up there for me with “convenience.”
So when I started online dating and I got past the “I’m pretty sure you’re not an ax murderer” stage and it was time to meet, I picked a sushi restaurant near my home.
I love that when I blog about anything other than the guys I’ve dated, all anyone asks me is, “When are you going to post another Dating Diaries entry? We love those!” Never mind I’m beingattacked by serpent reptiles and have embarked on a new spiritual/emotional/mental connection to running. You want bad date stories. The people have spoken. Let’s do this.
Today’s installment really isn’t on “bad” dates. In fact, I’m still friends with most of the men the following snippets are about. These are more or less those small things that make you go, “Hmmm…”
OVERLY EXCITED GUY
This was a one-time date with someone who was way too young for me. I think he was 36 and not the brightest bulb in the box. Which fact I didn’t clue into until after we had agreed to meet. I knew I was courting trouble when I began to notice that this guy (kid) got really, really, really excited whenever we had the smallest match on interests. Our texts began to resemble this
In today’s episode of The Dating Diaries, we explore the exciting world of mentally imbalanced and emotionally unstable individuals. Yippee!
There are a few truths that need to be put forth.
1. “Stalker” is probably too strong a word for what I’m about to describe, but it got you reading, so mission accomplished.
2. That being said, I was nervous enough about the situation to consider getting a gun, an updated alarm entry system or at least a more aggressive cat.
3. My stalker wasn’t a guy. It was a woman.
Oh, BOOM on that last one. Didn’t see it coming did you?
It’s true. While I have yet to rate my first male stalker (I’m biding my time—it’s coming), about three months into the dating scene I did have my very own female stalker.
When people ask me about my worst date (And they always want to hear about the bad ones. No one wants to hear, “We went to dinner and had a really nice time.”), “Gum Guy,” or GG as I call him, always comes to mind.
We met online and he sent a couple of snarky texts that made me laugh. But alarm bells must have gone off somewhere because when he suggested we meet for dinner, I downgraded it to meeting for a drink.
We met at one of my favorite upscale bar/restaurants. I arrived first. GG texted he was running late—uh, leave your house on time, buddy—so I went ahead and ordered my drink. Belvedere vodka martini, extra dry, three olives.
When he arrived, I kinda sorta recognized him from his photo. Recognized in the way you can see glimpses in the paunchy man standing in front of you at your 20th class reunion of the boy who sat next to you in science lab in junior high school. Not a recent photo then. Okay.
He swaggered (and yes, that is the correct word), into the bar...
Recently, a friend jokingly said something to me like, “So, how many boyfriends have you gone through this year?
First of all—ouch. Second of all, with full respect to the men I’ve dated, my answer to that question would probably be, "Zero."That’s not to say I haven’t dated and that I haven’t been in “we’re only seeing each other” relationships. It’s just that I’ve thought of most of these men as “the person I’m dating,” versus “my boyfriend.” Which led me to wonder… what is the threshold for someone to cross over into “boyfriend” territory?