Online Dating-- In Public

On the way to work each day I stop at the same Starbucks near my office. And every day, for the past few at least, I've seen this guy at the bar, "working" at his computer. Seems normal, right? Until you notice what he's doing. No, he's not watching porn or looking at erotic images. Conversely, he's not doing anything seemingly normal, like applying for jobs or reading The Economist. So what's he doing? He's online dating. In a Starbucks. During peak rush-hour coffee addict traffic.

I need to make it clear that this man is not sitting in the back of the store in some corner, hidden by a bazillion other customers. He's not even at a table. He's literally sitting at the bar that parallels the line of people, waiting ever so eagerly for their hot cup of caffeine. Not only that, but he's seated on a higher platform than the customers standing on the ground. That's how I was able to see this guy in the first place. And that's how I've been able to entertain myself while I've had to so painfully wait in line for two whole minutes every day.

Maybe that doesn't sound interesting, but let me assure you that it is. Not only do I know what this guy is doing (trying to pick up pornstar-esq chicks posing suggestively in their profile pictures) but I also know HOW he's doing it. He uses a site called datehookup.com. First he finds his targets. Then he emails them, explaining that he comes "from a wealthy family." Not what I'd want to read in an initial email from a random stranger, but it turns on some girls, so all the power to him.

Much to his credit, though, he's careful and he's organized and even methodical in creating these potential dating connections. I mean, I consider myself to be disgustingly organized in some regards, but I was never this good with online dating. This man creates a folder on his desktop for each and every woman he's in contact with. He saves their emails and drags their photos into their respective files. Impressive, honestly, especially after having forgotten countless names, occupations and life aspirations of many of the men I spoke to online over the years. Sorry, but if I've never met you, I'm not going to remember your name or job. But I might remember your dog's name or where your sisters live. I'm weird like that.

I agree that it's creepy, though, that I know all this about this random dude who frequents the same Starbucks as me. But, at the same time, I think he's asking for it. When he's sitting with his screen facing the crowd, you know, with sexy (or trying-to-be-sexy) women blown up on his screen, he's asking for onlookers. And when DATEHOOKUP.COM flashes ever so brightly, who WOULDN'T look out of sheer curiosity? I don't know this man, have no personal attachment to him, haven't even spoken to him, so in theory I shouldn't care what he's doing. But it's interesting-- I mean, who really would choose to do this in public? And, who isn't curious about how other people pursue online dating?

Usually online dating is an activity that we take on inside the privacy of our own homes. On occasion you'll find a coworker scoping out their options while inside their cube (also a no-go) or maybe you'll be invited to look online with a friend to help her weight her options. (Because I'm so cool, a friend and I used to spend time online on Friday nights looking at all the guys who were contacting us, and then we'd share our opinions with each other.) But in a coffee shop? Really?

Be careful where you are when you online date. I'm serious. Or else you might end up with someone like me blogging about you. (But, in all seriousness, Mr. Mystery Man, thanks for entertaining me each morning. Stay at it and maybe you'll find your match.)

A Commentary on Our Generation

It's true: my job isn't very intellectually stimulating. Sure, I have days where I'm crazed, days where I don't know which task to tackle first. All in all, though, as my friends so lovingly joke, I'm someone's "bitch." (Sorry to all you feminists out there, but it's true.) I support someone else, an MD who runs research labs that have discovered countless genes-- discoveries that have already saved some labs and will hopefully save many more in the future. Did I go to a highly-recognized school to support another person? No. Did my family have to shell out well over $200,000 just so that I could earn my meager salary that pays the rent but doesn't allow for a ton of disposable income? Nope, definitely not.

That said, I'm happy. Really, I am. OK, I know that doesn't sound convincing, but you just have to take my word for it. On a miserably humid day like today, I'm thankful that I don't believe in that I'm not drenched in sweat chasing four year olds through a sprinkler at camp like I used to back in the day. (I'm more grateful that I'm not cleaning up after their accidents post-sprinkler on any day.) In fact, I'm sitting here with a smile on my face (on the inside at least) because I'm covered in goosebumps from the chill of my office's air conditioning. And on days like this, believe me, it feels amazing to be inside a freezing high-rise in my jail-like cubicle; my small salary feels worthwhile. Plus, I work for a great company and with and for great people, so really, who am I to complain?

Overall, though, I am grateful. My job can feel "below me" at times and it for sure isn't comfortable getting myself out of bed and into the unpleasant weather, only to sit at my desk to schedule someone else's appointments and apply for his multi-million dollar grants. But each and every time that I feel like this flat out sucks (aint no classier way to say it, honestly) I remind myself-- thankfully I'm not at home. I also try to remind myself that maybe in some indirect way I'm helping others-- if I schedule my boss's time to take a breath or eat a bite of sandwich, I'm helping to manage his time so he can save lives.

Now, please understand, I'm not knocking any of my friends who are at home and living with their parents. I understand that people have loans to pay and that many people can't get jobs during these unfortunate times. I mean, according to the most recent estimates, almost 10% of the American population can't get a job. That's nothing to laugh at. As they say, tough times call for tough measures, and those measures might include moving back into a childhood home with a mom and dad who insist on attaching a GPS armband to their kid to monitor their whereabouts at all times.

What I don't respect, though, are the people who could find themselves financially capable of moving out and being on their own, but are unwilling to take any job that they consider to be in that "below them" range. I have plenty of friends like that-- friends who won't take a job that pays a decent salary because they don't immediately sense any upward mobility coming from that position.

As I rode the subway this morning-- my ultimate destination after Starbucks being this cubicle, of course-- I skimmed The New York Times as I always do. Now I wasn't actively thinking about this whole having a job vs. not having a job concept, but I think it's always in the back of my mind during my commutes. Anyway, one of the top ten articles, American Dream Is Elusive for New Generation: http://www.nytimes.com/2010/07/07/business/economy/07generation.html?_r=1&hp. The article essentially profiles a guy who's a couple of years older than me who sits home unemployed day after day. He turned down a job that offered him a $40,000 salary, feeling it would fail to lead him in a worthwhile direction and that the pay was too low. Meanwhile, his parents support him: they pay his rent, his cellphone bills and allow him send out only four or five resumes per week. (They're, of course, not enablers or anything.)

Let me tell you that when I was looking for work, I sent in close to fifty resumes per day. I did anything that I could to land a job. When I was looking to switch from one job that was too unbearable to the next, I was even willing to take a pay cut. A pay cut! Anything to maintain my independence. I would have rather sat and answered phones all day (with memories of my undergraduate career lurking in the background) just to be able to pay my own way. No job, I realized, is below me, and it shames me to think that so many of my peers are willing to mooch off their parents-- the same parents who have already supported them for well over twenty years-- just because they don't want to do something that, to them, feels degrading.

I don't know much about the business world, but I do know this: it looks much better to be doing a job like mine than to be sitting home and watching TV all day. No employer wants to know that a candidate spent the past sixteen months watching Hoarders and The Bachelor on DVR and Seinfeld on syndication. Getting up and going to work every day-- whether it's working construction or as an investment banker or scrubbing filthy toilets-- is a much more valuable use of your time.

So, to the people of my generation, I have to say that I almost plead with you: get up and do something. Prove your intelligence and your good work ethic, and that The New York Times has been portraying us incorrectly. And for the love of God, drop that Chipotle burrito, get off your parents' couch, erase that higher-than-though attitude from your mind, and work hard like the rest of us. Our grandparents, great-grandparents, even our parents did it, and there's no reason we shouldn't.


XOXO,
R.

PS: For more on how others perceive members of our generation, please see this article from a May edition of the New York Times Magazine: http://www.nytimes.com/2010/05/30/magazine/30fob-wwln-t.html. Again, another reason to prove everyone wrong.

My Advice? Move on to the next one!

I’m not a tough person. I cry in the shower when a coworker makes a nasty comment. I endlessly replay situations where a friend issues me a backhanded compliment.

When it comes to dating, though, I’m pretty tough. Let’s put it this way: if you’re coming to me for advice regarding a guy who just isn’t treating you well, I’m not going to sugarcoat it and tell you that maybe, sweetie, he’s just going through a tough time. I refuse to allow your pretty little mind to think that, yes, it’s acceptable that he won’t label you as his girlfriend or show you off to his friends.

Know why? Because it’s not. Nope, not acceptable at all.

So after he finally breaks up with you (or you’re lucky enough to break up with him) I’m not going to be sympathetic when you keep running back to him. You miss him—I get it. It’s downright painful to cutoff all ties with someone who you’d text midday from the bookstore because you saw something they’d like. You’re probably used to checking on him during his lunch break at work and maybe he called you every night before bed.

But listen, sister, a breakup is just that: a BREAKUP. Don’t you even think of running back to his cozy bed dressed in plaid, unwashed sheets. You can do better—at the very least you can sleep in your own WASHED sheets— and you know it.

Whenever an applicable situation comes up I like to reference one of my favorite books of all time, He’s Just Not That Into You: The No-Excuses Truth to Understanding Guys by Greg Behrendt. (Please note that I’m not talking about the movie with the same title. It was based off the book but failed to sufficiently convey the book’s messages accurately.)

Anyway, this summarizes my above-referenced feelings, which some might perceive as my nasty-bitch side, to a T:

Breakups, I've heard, are supposed to be just that. Breaks. Hard, clean breaks. No talking, no seeing, no touching ... keep your hands to yourself. The relationship is over. Half the people I know move after a huge breakup, and frankly that makes perfect sense to me. You're not supposed to sleep with the guy who just broke your heart a week ago. Fine. Next time I'm in this situation I'll cry. Stay in bed and wail. Go to the gym if I can. Call all my friends and burden them with my misery. Sleep too much. Cry some more. See my therapist more often. Get a puppy. Do whatever I have to so eventually I can move on. –He’s Just Not That Into You

So what if you get that, you’re following the rules and not talking to him, and he’s the one calling you to tell you that he ate a fabulous corned beef sandwich on rye with spicy mustard, ran an amazing 4.667 miles and, oh yea, by the way, he misses you, baby?

Yes, he broke up with you, but he’s still the one running back for comfort. He made the conscious decision to not be with you, but he still feels like it’s alright to call to ask you about your day.

I have no explanation for why this happens, but it seems to happen frequently. Really, a lot. Now I never advocate for retaliation (it’s better just to let things go and, as idealistic as this might sound, “be the bigger person”) but sometimes it’s best to in your own way dig it back to him.

Don’t answer his calls. Don’t run out when he emails asking to meet at Starbucks to catch up. Allow him to miss you, to consider what he gave up. Certainly don’t rerun your dramatic relationship ending where he called you fat and you told him that his member was small over and over. Don’t wish him anything bad or even be rude or short to him. Just don’t. It’s not worth your time.

Over time, I’ve learned that the sooner we let go of these freaks, the ones who treat us poorly and forget that they can’t just have us anytime they so please, the sooner we’ll get closer to finding Mr. Right. I’m not saying that we’ll ever find Mr. Perfect, but with each bad egg we crack, that’s one down and we’re one person closer to discovering someone kind and compassionate.

So, if nothing more, remember this: the next time a guy blows you off for balcony seats at an NBA game, consider what he really means to you and, more importantly here, what you mean to him. I mean, really, he’s not even ditching you for courtside seats, but balcony seats? Come on! Move on.

XOXO,
R.

The Beauty in the Breakup

This morning after stumbling into the office I started my very intense and exhausting morning regimen: drinking my Starbucks and reading the news. Tough life, I know. Well, actually, life will be tough if anyone here ever finds out that I have so much free time.

Anyway, I came across an article written as part of a column called Girl Talk: "How A Breakup Boosted My Confidence." (See ). I have no idea who this author Lauren Kusnyer is and for all I know, she could be as unqualified to give dating advice as myself. But her piece was entertaining and, most importantly, full of important points.

At the time of a breakup, the situation feels like the worst thing in the world. Regardless of who dumped who, we find ourselves sad and uneasy that life will change permanently, sometimes in ways we can't even predict. Maybe we can breathe a sigh of relief, knowing that he wasn't "the one" and finally admitting it after months of trying to convince ourselves otherwise. Usually though the negative feelings outweigh the positive. It feels like we'll never escape this black hole that we've suddenly been pushed into. All we want to do is text him and we secretly hope he'll call us and say "Baby, I made a huge mistake."

During the mourning period, it seems like there's no way out. This black hole has suddenly filled with quicksand, trapping us further and further into our sadness. We can't conceive of pushing through our misery, nor can we imagine the hurt dissipating.

Not only does this all happen (please don't hate me for saying that "time heals all wounds") but we can actually benefit from being single and having time to ourselves.

If I hadn't been single last summer, for example, I wouldn't have made the extra effort to befriend the girls at my gym. I probably would have been heading home after my butt's class each week to talk on the phone to a boyfriend. Now, I'm lucky enough to have made a great group of girlfriends who are going to be just as wound up and excited beside me tomorrow as we wait for the opening credits to roll in Sex and the City II. (Any other readers beyond pumped?!?)

Besides this, being single eventually encouraged my will to date. I was able to really get out and experience those horribly uncomfortable situations that every girl must come across at some point in her life in order to be considered a real woman. The hours and hours of awkwardness made me at least start to feel as if I had entertainment again after moving to a new city, while also giving me the experiences needed to fully bond with my friends during girltalk.

I think most importantly, being single allows us to gain freedom and independence. Now I'm by no means a feminist and I am for sure an advocate of relationships when they work well. I'm the girl who firmly believes that unclogging a toilet, no matter whose fault it is, is the responsibility of a man, whereas girls have their own girly pieces of housework to keep up with.

That said, it's really great to spend time on your own and allow yourself to recognize that you can make it alone. No, not only that you can, but that you can do it well. You're capable of filling up Saturday nights without the help of a boy, and you sometimes even find that you're able to dedicate more of your time to activities that you yourself are interested in-- and not those of mutual interest with anyone else. It's important to learn these lessons, especially in order to be mindful of these ideas if and when you breakup with someone again.

So for all of you girls out there nursing broken hearts, remember one thing: it'll get better. It might not seem like it, but it will. It'll get easier and easier till the hurt goes away. And even though you probably won't recognize it at the time, the whole suckiness factor of a breakup will make you stronger and tougher. We can all admit that the free time you'll have to go to the gym really can help with that.

But in all seriousness, enjoy your singlehood. Isn't it kind of fun considering the possibilities of who you'll meet next-- as you snuggle a Chinese takeout box on the couch?

XOXO,
R.