Posts by :

Getting the Right Gift

November 3rd, 2009

Birthdays. Anniversaries. Christmas.

These are Hallmark days we’re living in; there’s an occasion for everything.

I don’t care if you’ve been with her for ten weeks or ten years:
When one of those occasions rolls around, it’s on you to find the right gift.

Not necessarily the prettiest, shiniest, or most expensive gift.

The right gift.

To a man, we’re still just as dumbfounded at the concept of shopping for the fairer sex as we’ve ever been—if not more.

Not necessarily dumb, fellas—

–dumbfounded.

After all, there’s an etiquette to buying that-certain-something—these days, there’s just as many rules for gift giving as there are days that (unofficially, of course) demand it.

Here’s a couple tips on surviving ‘till the next occasion.

-Hold back a little.

Sure, you’ve been with her for three months, and now, finally, that first birthday-anniversary-special occasion-just-because has rolled around. You want to impress her. You want to floor her, to send her giggling hysterically to her next coffee date with her just-as-impressed friends.

Don’t.

You’re setting the bar here, guys—although she may not realize it (–unless she’s one in a million, in which case: marry her already–) this random (though still somewhat expected) act of kindness sets the bar for all of your other random acts of kindness to follow.

So put the credit card down, hotshot.

You’ve got plenty more chances to whip it out ahead.

-Christmas is coming.

Sometime within the next 365 days, anyways.

This ties into the previous point—while it’s positively amazing that you spoil her on occasion (–and she does deserve it–) you have to remember that, in this consumer-driven society, Christmas is the Motherload of ‘occasions.’

And it’s coming.

Plan accordingly.

-Do it for the right reasons.

Getting laid is fun. And important (to us, anyways.)

It is not a reason to treat her to something special.

-It’s not about the cost.

Stop laughing, fellas. It’s true. If you take the time to make her something, or, heaven forbid, use your head and come up with something clever to get her—something that reminds her of a time you shared, or a special moment together—it’ll mean more than some random, thoughtless bauble.

Regardless of said random baubles’ cost.

For the most part.

So there you have it—it’s all about the thought behind the gift (behind the occasion.)

Put some effort into it—make it mean something—hell, make it mean something to both of you—and the dividends are great.

If you’re lucky, they might just be greater than the standard you’ve now set for yourself.

1 Comment "

The Art of ‘Spicing things Up’

October 14th, 2009

You can’t stand it when she leaves her makeup on the counter.

When she overcooks the lasagna.

When she lets the dog on your Grandmother’s couch; when she wakes up on the wrong side of the bed.

When she looks at you cock-eyed.

Hell, you’re frustrated by just about everything.

What you fail to realize—what you so very desperately need to realize—is that your frustrations really have nothing to do with her, at all.

You’re in a rut, superstar.

And you’re projecting your frustrations, your inadequacies, and your anxieties onto her.

Now, before you panic—just as the light bulb in your brain goes off—

–relax.

We all do this from time to time.

We’re men, after all.

The solution, obviously, starts (–as you probably figure most things do–) with you.

Specifically, how you view her.

The everyday things—the lasagna, the dog and Grandma’s couch—signify that you need to shake things up; to get away from the routine you’ve fallen into, and the focus it has made you put on the (perceived) shortcomings of your partner.

A couple of dates outside your comfort zone will have you viewing her in a different light, as you re-discover (–or discover–) aspects about her you forgot or failed to see before.

Say you like going to the movies.

Screw the movies.

Take her rock climbing instead.

Say you love a picnic in the park (–and yes, it’s okay to admit that–)

–bet you’d love a picnic on a rented sailboat even more.

Say, (–because you will, initially–) that you don’t have the capital to be making wild, extravagant plans right now. Say the last quarter hit you harder than Billy in seventh grade, and your budget is tighter than the drawstring on her trackpants.

Loosen them up with creative, inexpensive dates.

A weekend away, but at a bed-and-breakfast instead of the Hilton.

Zip-lining a cave instead of swimming with dolphins.

Bottom line, there are options out there; best of all, your creativity will yield unexpected results, and help you to see other aspects of your partner.

Who knows—maybe she’ll even get over the million things she dislikes about you.

No Comments "

How to Get Over Yourself

September 28th, 2009

You spend more time in front of the mirror than your girl does.

It’s okay to admit it; she’s known for a while, and she still puts up with you. Really, it’s just one of your many shortcomings, right fellas? You leave dishes out, you’re chronically late (–or obsessively early–) you tend to miss days between showers.

And still, somehow, you’re able to delude yourself into believing you’re the man.

You believe—somewhere deep, deep down—somewhere you go in moments of crushing insecurity—that, should your lady leave, you’ll be able to find another.

Somebody as beautiful as her; someone as intelligent as her, someone (most importantly) as patient as her.

You’re wrong.

What we, as a group—and to a man—need to realize—is that if we’re fortunate enough to have a good woman in our lives, we’re plenty lucky enough.

We don’t need to be in the mirror as much as we are.

Hell, we don’t need to be in the bar as much as we are, either.

What we should be doing—as a group, and to a man—is thanking whatever-deity-we-choose-to-thank that we’re lucky enough to hold down a woman who is probably better off without us.

We should be spending more time cooking dinners.

We should be spending more time showing up for the dinners they cook for us.

We should be avoiding the bars, and the pick-up games, and the million-and-two other things we focus on, when we’re deluded into believing they’ll put up with us either way.

When we’re deluded into believing we’re the man, and that if she goes—finally having had enough of whatever it is we focus on instead of her—we’ll find someone comparable.

We won’t.

See, there really is nothing more comforting to us—as a group, and to a man—than knowing some girl is at home, waiting to hear about our triumphs and defeats.

Waiting to console us when we need it; to be there for us when we’re foolish enough to believe we don’t.

Waiting to be the source of the feeling that puts us in front of the mirror—the source that forces that smile on our faces.

The source that deludes us—as a group, and to a man—into believing we’re THE man.

Because, really, it’s all because—and all for—them anyways.

So the next time you’re in front of the mirror—or off to the bar, or the pickup game—reconsider the reason you’re so damned confident—

–and thank her for putting up with you in the first place.

No Comments "

How to meet her Father

September 2nd, 2009

It’s the most terrifying thing you’ll ever do.

For real this time.

Because this time, you’re not meeting her mother.

No, Romeo; you’re meeting her Daddy.

Here’s how to survive.

First of all, realize that, yes, it’s Daddy. Not ‘Father,’ not ‘Sir (–well, to you, he’s sir, but to her–)

Yeah.

Daddy.

Which means she’s Daddy’s Little Girl—which means you’re the guy who’s taking her away.

Which means you’re the bad guy.

Fellas, this is okay—just remember, when you’re shaking his hand (and trying to shake it as hard as he is–) and when you’re trying to look him in the eyes (–because you know he’s looking into yours–) that, someday, you’re going to have a daughter of your own.

And that someday, some jackass is going to take her away from you.

All of a sudden, (–probably as he’s crushing your hand—) you can see where the big guy is coming from.

This has nothing to do with age, either—whether you’re fifteen or thirty-five (and, hopefully, she’s in the ballpark; otherwise, you’re screwed) any Dad worth his salt will react to meeting you the exact same way.

Call it ‘guarded optimism;’ sure, right now, (–as you’re trying to regain the feeling in your fingers–) the look on his face says ‘I’m gonna kill you.’

Trust me, deep down, he’s hoping you’re the guy who’s gonna treat her right.

(You can’t blame him if ‘The-guy-who-made-her-cry-senior-year’ and ‘The-guy-who-left-her-in-a-bodega-in-Mexico’ are flashing across his subconscious as you tell him you’ve only got the best intentions for his baby.)

Remember this, and you’re halfway home.

Now, let’s say you’re invited into the living room (–or the corner booth at Daddy’s Little Girl’s favorite restaurant–) to formally introduce yourself. This is the ‘job interview’ portion of the meeting; and there are definitely some topics you want to discuss—and some you want to avoid.

-Playing ‘Johnny-Big-Wheel’=murder.
No, it doesn’t matter that you make 60k a year, and that you’re investment portfolio is ‘promising.’

He’s her father.

This means he makes more than you. And if, by some miracle, he doesn’t—you damn well better pretend he does.

-Reminiscing about your glory days means you don’t have any left. Sure, you were All-State back in the day. While I can appreciate the attempt to butter him up with sports stories, the only words to come out of your (probably-unworthy) mouth are better suited for praising Daddy’s Little Girl.

-On the topic of sports: if his favorite team comes up in conversation, you damn well better admit that you like Said Team.

Even if Said Team sucks.

Even if Said Team are your team’s division rivals, and even if admitting you like Said Team kills you a little inside.

He’s her father.

He could kill you, more than a little, and more than inside.

(*The exception to this, of course, is if said team is the Indianapolis Colts. They suck so hard, they’re beyond defending.)

Make no mistake about it; meeting her father is like going to war. Only, (hopefully,) without the wanton destruction and needless atrocities.

The best way to come out alive (–because, as in war, nobody comes out unscathed–) is to bow your admittedly unworthy head, acquiesce to his superiority, and admit that, despite the Colts, you have one thing in common.

You both love Daddy’s Little Girl.

It won’t win you the war—but, if you really mean it—you may live to fight another day.

No Comments "

How to Let Her Go (–without losing her forever.)

August 18th, 2009

You love her, right?

Not just the way she makes you feel—

–or the things she does for you—

you genuinely, deeply, really-really love the girl.

You’re just not in love anymore, and that’s okay.

There are ways to let her go, without losing her forever—ways to give you both the space you probably need (–probably, because, if she’s a good girl, there’s a very good chance you’re making a mistake.)

-Tell her the truth.
I know, fellas—this seems weird; you’re wondering if it would be better to sugar-coat it.
Let’s face it; ‘I’m not in love with you anymore’ doesn’t sound good.
It hurts.
It should.
You’re leaving her—hard enough—the least you can do is be a man about it.

-Tell her the truth somewhere she feels comfortable.
You don’t want to sandbag her—taking her out to your favorite restaurant—your very
public favorite restaurant—not a good place to induce tears.
(It’s the equivalent of setting up the pins, and then throwing a strike.)

-Leave the door open.
No, that doesn’t mean keep her number in your phone for drunken-booty calls at 3 am.
She’s going to be vulnerable. Do NOT take advantage of this.
One day, soon, she’s not going to vulnerable, and she’ll remember what a dick you are.

-Give her time.
She needs to get over you (–it’s not as hard as you think–) which means girl-talk and nights out and nights in and nights without you.
You wanted this, stud-muffin.
Deal with it.

-After giving the appropriate amount of time, call her.
Again, this is not to ‘hook up.’ This is to see, genuinely, how she feels.
If you genuinely don’t care how she feels, then you skip this step.
(And again, she’s probably better off without you.)

-Take time for yourself.
Not binge drinking and playing fantasy football—those are things you were probably
lucky enough to do (on occasion) when you were with her. No, take time to evaluate
what you want out of a relationship, and just what it was about her that made you
believe it couldn’t work in the first place.

-Have a good cry.
It’s coming, fellas—sooner or later, amidst all of this, you’re going to believe (correctly or incorrectly) that you’ve thrown away the best thing that ever happened to you.

You probably have.

You’re an idiot.

Deep breath—we’re all idiots.

-Beg her to take you back.
And, next time, think before you open your mouth.

The grass is greener and all that.

After all;

You love her, right?

Not just the way she makes you feel—

–or the things she does for you—

you genuinely, deeply, really-really love the girl.

Good girls are hard to come by;

foolish boys, (unfortunately for us–)

–not so much.

No Comments "

How to meet her Mother

August 6th, 2009

It’s the most terrifying thing you’ll ever do.

Well, second most terrifying, maybe—but meeting her father is a whole ‘nother ballgame, and therefore a whole ‘nother article.

And you know, don’t you, that from the second she lays eyes on you, she’s judging you.

Examining you. 

Determining your worth.

Trying to figure out—much the way you have been—if you’re the guy for her precious little girl.

Good luck, fellas.

 

Look, this is one particular minefield I can’t steer you through—just as every woman is a precious, unique snowflake; every woman’s mother is a precious, unique snow storm, waiting to unleash her fury upon you.

All I can do to protect you is arm you with the knowledge that, should you defy expectations and rise above hers, a good mother will welcome you into her (extended) family with open arms. 

There is sunshine at the end of this one boys—here’s how to hang in there.

The scenario: a friendly get-together over brunch—a Mother’s favorite meal.

 

-Accept the fact that, somewhere, in her illustrious dating past, your girl dated a man who was probably twice (at least in Ma’s eyes) the man Ma figures you are.

Now, don’t let this get you down.  She just met you.  You’ve got minutes—or however long you’re meeting with Ma for—to convince her otherwise.

-Mothers hate showboating.

I don’t care if you’re the CEO of a Fortune-500 company; if you’re meeting her mother over brunch, and Mom offers to pay, let her.  Or resist, once, calmly—and keep your voice barely above a whisper. 

She’s trying to bait you—to see if you’re going to grandstand about being able to ‘provide for her baby girl.’  (And you may very well have been for the duration of the relationship—but I’ll wager she’s been providing for a lot longer than that, hotshot.) 

-Mothers like manners. 

Meaning that, yeah, it’s okay to pick up the check (–as long as she doesn’t resist.)  Do it discreetly.  

-I know that there’s some blonde over in the other booth who keeps eyeing you. 

On any other occasion, you may be foolish enough to believe you can steal a lingering gaze or two, unbeknownst to your lady. 

This is not ‘any other occasion.’ 

I don’t care how hot the blonde is, or how daft you (incorrectly) assume your girl is—her mother will catch you. 

Hell, she wants you to look.

Because she wants to catch you.

-Her Mother was once wooed herself.
This is important to remember; although she’s the obstacle right now, the beautiful lady across the table—the one who birthed the beautiful lady beside you—was once charmed also. 

Blood from a stone, boys. 

Blood from a stone.

Finally, and probably paramount:

Once again— 

–the beautiful lady across the table

birthed the beautiful lady beside you. 

So no matter how meeting her Mother goes—

–she’s already done you a solid.

No Comments "

How to handle your raging jealousy

July 23rd, 2009

I don’t care how good looking you are.

I don’t even care how good looking you think you are.

Your girlfriend looks better.

You realize this, of course; you must, even sub-consciously, notice that every time you two are at the mall, or at dinner, or the movies, or anywhere, really, where other people are—

–she gets more attention than you do.

Now, this might awaken your macho sense of competition—and don’t get me wrong—if trying to keep up to her means you iron your T-Shirts every now and then, I’m all for it.

If you take it too far, however—if you take it out on her—then maybe she should realize what you’ve secretly known all along.

She could do better.

It’s harsh, boys: this is the reality we live in. We’re all attention-whores, in our own little ways—but the amount of us that be-little, or degrade, or demean our women—just to make ourselves feel better—astronomical.

You boil every little comment, or indiscretion, or lie down to its essence: your bruised ego is the reason you fly off the handle.

So man up, and read on: here are some sure-fire ways to recognizing she’s the best (without admitting defeat.)

-Value her status in the relationship. She’s your partner, Douchebag; not something you bring with you to a restaurant when you’re hungry. Behind those perfectly shaped eyes sitting across the table are perfectly shaped opinions, values, and ideals.

Spend time gazing into them, instead of scanning the surrounding diners for other men (–with or without their tongues hanging out.)

-Value your status in the relationship. God, or evolution, or her parents created the vision that you happen to be dating; and, for thousands and thousands of years, women have been objects of desire, lust and beauty. For thousands and thousands of years, guys like you have chased them.

Not the other way around.

That’s just how it works, fellas.

-She’s with you for a reason. (This ties into valuing your status in the relationship.)

Don’t bother trying to figure out just what that reason is.

I can’t either.

-Understand that, while she looks good in a dress
–or a skirt—
–or jeans—
–or anything at all, really—

–she has just as many messed up insecurities and problems as you do. Maybe more. (It’s hard out there for the ladies.)

So if, by chance, she can walk into a room with her chin up, and her hips out, the confidence she exudes is to be commended, not questioned.

In closing, while I appreciate your need to be the one-and-only worshipper at her alter, I recommend you take the cat calls, sideways looks (and occasional whistles) in stride. The more…enlightened…of us even view these as compliments.

Remember, she is gorgeous, jackass—that’s why you asked her out in the first place.

So the next time you two are following the waiter to your table, enjoy the looks she’s (most definitely) getting.

Chances are, she’s going home with you tonight.

And that, boys, is as close to winning as we’re ever going to get.

No Comments "

The Art of Reconciliation

July 10th, 2009

So maybe you see her at the mall.
Maybe you see her at the bar.

The restaurant, the trail, the market.
And all of a sudden where doesn’t matter half as much as who.

Who is the one you let go; who is the one who got away.

She looks good, too—
–actually, she looked good when you had her, Romeo.

Now she’s beyond.

So you’re standing there, slack-jawed and broken hearted, and you’re wondering how-in-the-hell you can make up for whatever it is you did to end it in the first place.

You’re standing at the base of a mountain this time, boys; here are a couple of tips to make the climb easier.

-Don’t apologize.

Not right away; don’t get me wrong, you’ve got a lot of “I’m sorry’s” ahead. But standing there, looking her in her beautiful blue or brown or green eyes, reminding her of what an asshole you are—
–not a good idea.

-Don’t compliment her.

Excessively—anything more than “You look good” translates directly to “I-would-like-to-sleep-with-you-again.”

-Don’t push.

“Let’s do dinner tomorrow” might be a little much. (Gauge this based on whether or not she slaps you after you say hello.)
Pump the brakes, playboy; maybe offer her your number; tell her you’d love to catch up over coffee sometime.
The key here is the ‘sometime’—as in sometime of her choosing.

And then—
–take a breath—
–look her in her beautiful blue or brown or green eyes—
(Because if this doesn’t work, you’re about to let the best thing that ever happened to you walk away.)
(Again.)

–and say goodbye.

You read that right, guys—
–turn your sorry ass around, and let her go.

The play is that you hope you’ve peaked her interest.

You’ve showed her you’ve changed, you’ve grown; you’ve evolved from that Neanderthal you used to be.

You’ve created a little mystery, and, ideally, left her wondering what the hell is so fabulous that you would turn your back on her beautiful ass.

You’re not atop the Himalayas yet, brave explorer;
but, by the time she calls, you’ll be a hell of a lot closer to the summit than the bottom.

No Comments "

How to Set Up that Second Date

June 22nd, 2009

Let’s be honest—that first date was awkward as hell.

The whole time, you were hoping to whoever you hope to that the last piece of salad wasn’t stuck to your teeth—and the movie after dinner wasn’t easy, either.

Who can focus on a movie when they’ve got her sitting shotgun, right?

I mean, every time she yawns or stretches or brushes against you, you’re reading into it
–hoping to whoever you hope to–
that you’re taking her home tonight.

Okay, playboy, let’s assume she’s a good girl; let’s assume your sorry ass went to bed alone and woke up wondering if right now is too soon to call her back.

Here’s my first tip for setting up that second date;

right now is too soon to call her back.

Just like everything else about dating, there are unspoken rules to setting up another dinner, another movie, another whatever.

Rules to keep you from looking desperate.

Rules to keep you from appearing aggressive.

Rules to keep you from blowing it.

You will eventually; you’re a guy, and blowing it is what we do. To keep you from blowing it right now, here’s some rules to remember before picking up the phone.

1.) Grab your cell; put her number in speed dial.
You’re going to be nervous when you dial; you don’t want to call ten different digits by accident. By the time you get her number right, you’ll be tired of being yelled at by Hungarian men with suspiciously similar voicemails.

2.) Don’t panic when you get her on the line.
Remember, Romeo, if your date went reasonably well, she wants to see you again—sound casual, but speak with confidence when you tell her—

3.)—You want to do something wild.
‘Wild’ is in italics because ‘wild’ is important. ‘Wild’ is spontaneous,
‘wild’ is adventurous. ‘Wild’ is fun. ‘Wild’ is safe. Wild is not taking her to a swingers party just to show her how ‘bad-ass’ you are.

4.) Incorporate elements you learned on Date Number One. This is where you should have been paying attention, boys; everyone knows first dates are job interviews (–the job just happens to be sleeping together, or, at the very least, building the foundation of a prospective future relationship–) so hopefully you used your question of the inevitable question-and-answer period to learn important things; places she’s never been, foods she’s never tried, etc.

5.) For God’s sake, show up on time.

Seriously, you’d be amazed how often we blow this one.

So, there you have it—a couple of fool-proof tips to engaging her interest in sitting across a table from you again.

If you need my help on dinner conversations, awkward pauses, or longing glances over candlelight—

–you may be better off alone.

No Comments "

How to Survive the Post-Dinner Movie (Without Coming on Too Strong)

June 3rd, 2009

I’m making a couple of assumptions here.

I’m assuming you’ve been on a dinner date with somebody you want to get to know…a little better.
I’m assuming you’re doing the tried-and-true ‘dinner-and-a-movie’ thing (–I refuse to call it a cliché—it’s really more of a classic–) and I’m assuming you’re clever enough to realize the stresses of a multiplex can’t really compare to cuddling up on your (–or her–) favorite couch.

So, Romeo, you’ve done dinner, and you’re fortunate enough to spend the rest of the evening alone together.

Here’s how to NOT blow it.

-Rent something she’s going to like. Let’s face it—you don’t give a damn what you rent. I don’t care if you can get your hands on a bootlegged Transformers sequel—no matter how badly you’ve been waiting to see the latest release, you’ve been waiting to see her naked, even more.
(This isn’t likely going to happen on date number one—she’s a lady, remember—but you’re a hell of a lot closer if the rental is something she can stomach.)

-Be subtle in inviting her home. You’re going to suffer through The Terms of Endearment; the least she can do is let you suffer on your ottoman.
I’m with you; but be tactful, fellas. Don’t come across as creepy—no maniacal grin with the invitation—throw it out gently, one of those Hey,-I’ve-got-an-idea ideas.

-It’s called a loveseat, fool. Use it.

-Nothing is sexier—nothing in the whole wide world—than a bottle of red wine. The trick, again, is to make it seem subtle. If she walks in, and you’ve got rose petals all over the loveseat, and a bottle on chill on the table, then I’m afraid you’re walking the ‘creepy’ line.
Some girls might appreciate the attention to detail, but the ‘spontaneity’ of the evening is part of the appeal.

-Let her watch the damn movie. This is the part that sucks, but you knew you’d be on the frontlines when you signed up for the war. There won’t be a moment of the god-awful romantic comedy that you wouldn’t rather be diving down her neck, but you’re a gentleman. So you watch.
So you suffer.

-That said, if she makes the first move—and yes, she’s still a lady if she does—then all bets are off.
-If the movie ends, however, and her (being a lady) and you (being a gentleman) has not led to ravaging one another, don’t worry. You’re still in, and you’re earning points for your chivalry. So walk her to the door, or drive her home, and then…

-Read her.
I’m serious; this is the important part. Unless you’re a complete write-off, you should have some indication of whether or not the goodnight kiss is going to happen.
You do NOT want to read this wrong. If you go in for the kill and she pulls away, whatever magic you might have made (suffering through God-awful movies) is dead.

Close your eyes, do that sexy mouth thing you’ve been working on, and, Lord willing, let her have it.

But please, please, please don’t mess it up.

The ground you’ve gained tonight—be it an inch or a mile—is invaluable.

Who knows–

–next time you might even get to pick the movie.

No Comments "