Lying to Dates

I think it's pretty clear that I usually don't condone lying. After all, I was the one who spent an entire post ranting about my ex-friend who I not-so-nicely called out for having fabricated a life of lies. I mean, why wouldn't I believe that she was commuting to Manhattan for a glamorous internship at The Food Network when her mommy wouldn't really let her drive to the bagel store in our town alone? And, what's more, of course she had an extremely devoted boyfriend who she'd travel extensively with-- even though she wasn't allowed out of her house in suburban Connecticut past dark and happened to be spending her nights navigating from one Jdate profile to another. All adds up. Sure.

Anyway, I just realized an instance where I wholeheartedly believe that it's ok to take this really disgusting practice of lying and put it to good use. Mind you, I'm not talking about all-out lies; rather, I'm hinting at the fact that it's OK to sometimes craft a white lie here or there in order to spare someone's feelings. Really, it's only OK when there's no risk of the situation escalating for the worst or for any involved parties to find out. And it has to be helping someone or sparing their feelings, not for any other purpose.

I realize I'm speaking pretty abstractly so I'll go ahead pinpoint the instance that I have in mind where it's alright to fib a little. This whole train of thought started earlier today when I was talking to my friend who's currently out and about on the dating scene in New York, M. M was briefing me on her dates of the past weekend and noted that she had gone out with someone rather dull. He was a nice guy, but someone she had no interest in pursuing due to a lack of chemistry or, OK, fine-- just his inability to generate interesting conversation. The day after the date (where he took her for cupcakes but not coffee or tea because he's opposed to caffeine but somehow not sweets) he texted her saying how he had a great time and was pretty sure she felt the same.

Lesson for men: don't ever assume that your date felt the same way as you did. Just don't. Women can be deceivingly great actresses, so try to avoid putting words into their mouths.

Lesson for women: you have two ways of handling this situation where you clearly aren't interested in laying eyes on him but where he wants to lay a hell of a lot more on you. You can be direct and say something to the effect of "I think you're a really great guy, but I just didn't feel any chemistry." Conversely, you can lie. And by lie, I mean just concoct some sort of BRIEF yet fictional line that explains why you have no interest in pursuing him further. If you choose the second option, the most common excuse (see, not lie, but EXCUSE!) is that you're just getting over a relationship or painful breakup and you're not really so keen on dating yet.

In this instance, I actually think it's beneficial for both parties when the girl just tells a simple fib. First off, the guy gets the point. (Well, we hope he gets the point. We've all had situations where-- OH MY GOD, does he even speak English!? What is he missing here!?) We're giving him the chance to move on and find someone who likes him just as much as he likes them, because most people in life deserve that.

Second, we're sparing his feelings. Sure, most men can handle being told that there's no chemistry because it doesn't mean they're a bad person or boring or dumb or ill-mannered. But, of course, some people take it personally, even if it's not at all-- myself most certainly included.

In addition, we're helping ourselves. We're ending things with him (even if they haven't really yet begun) and we're doing what's best for ourselves. Never should we be on "sympathy dates," or out with someone just to not hurt them. If it's not right, end it. Immediately. You're not helping anyone by keeping something worthless going. And if you're going to end it, there's no reason to bruise his ego. Let him think it's about you-- be the bad guy. You're not hurting yourself and you're not hurting him, other than the fact that he won't get the chance to go out with you again.
Important note: If you're deep into a relationship, stupid excuses like those I mentioned won't work. After all, I'd hope by that point you know each others' dating histories and that you wouldn't have committed in the first place if you weren't that into him. But, after a date or two, he doesn't know much about you and you don't know much about him. You don't really owe him anything other than common courtesy, and although lying isn't courteous, it's not kind to tell him that you think he's the most boring person on earth. That's even if he spent the entire date listing his food allergies.

I vote that you spare his feelings and make it seem like your lack of interest in him isn't ABOUT him. No need to hurt him, but there's a reason to let him go and find someone who's really digging him. So fib, make it clear that you're not interesting in dating him further, and move on. Maybe, just maybe, you won't have to with the next guy who pops into you life.

“Apologies” for the Past-- with a Conniving Twist

On my way to work two days ago, I was obviously reading the iPhone version of the New York Times that I had so brilliantly pre-loaded before my subway went underground. In the section that hosts the “Most Popular” articles, I touched the article on the top of the list. Turns out it was about Anita Hill, the woman who, in 1991, accused Supreme Court Justice-to-be Clarence Thomas of sexual harassment. She testified under oath that he had subjected her to comments of sexual and pornographic nature. Thomas still managed to receive the nomination to the United States’ highest court, but his ordeal with Hill has perhaps forever tainted the opinions many Americans hold toward him.

So in case you’ve been living under a rock for the past couple of days (I don’t think any of my readers are starfish or worms, but who knows...) let me inform you that Hill was back in the news because of another interesting situation. Apparently she arrived to work at Brandeis University one morning last week, only to find a voicemail waiting from Thomas’s wife, Virginia. Virginia had decided that one morning at 7:30am just 19 years after her husband’s battle against Hill would be a good time to call Hill to “make amends.” Hill, upset and concerned for obvious reasons, called campus police who later informed the FBI. But, like any girl would, she made the situation explode even further: she also called The New York Times to let them listen to the message.

“Good morning Anita Hill, it’s Ginni Thomas,” she said in the message. “I just wanted to reach across the airwaves and the years and ask you to consider something. I would love you to consider an apology sometime and some full explanation of why you did what you did with my husband.”

She went on to tell Thomas to “have a good day.”

If I were reading that out of context, I’d have assumed that Thomas were asking Hill to apologize for something that happened yesterday or maybe the day before, but not nineteen years ago. I also would have thought (rather, hoped) that someone married to someone as much in the spotlight as a Supreme Court Justice might have a little more tact and understanding in terms of which battles to pick and when.

As I went to bed that night watching the news, I realized that this situation wasn’t going to blow overly so quickly and that Virginia’s message is still reaching “across the airwaves.” Yet another newscaster was providing their commentary on the story. Now, let’s be honest. Virgina must have been able to predict that her message would have become public, and she certainly couldn’t have thought that Hill would have kept the instance private. She had to have known that this would become a rather large and well-known scandal in itself.

At least in my eyes, this is the classic scenario of not only girl-to-girl bullying, but also a pathetic cry for attention on the part of Virginia. (Likewise, we could probably argue that to some extent Hill was vying for attention by publicising the occurrence.) I would have hoped that women of their age could have matured enough to avoid not only such a public spectacle, but a public spectacle nineteen years after beginning.

But, here’s what it boils down to: sometimes apologies (or some semblance of an apology to some degree) come when you least expect it. Maybe both women were instigating their own drama, but the situation shows that people revisit the past when the timing seems unusual or random. No one knows what triggered this event, perhaps marital problems between the Thomas’s, but what matters is that the Hill-Thomas situation was revisited and, even though it involves two prominent women, they still managed to slide in a conniving and girly twist. Apparently I was wrong in thinking that women grow up. Figures.

Sticking up for the Ladies

As I’ve stated before, R and I have quite a bit in common. In fact, it’s kind of bizarre how we share some strange quirks. But like any two people, I don’t think we’re always exactly on the same page with everything.

Yesterday, R wrote an entry titled “Let's Give the Male Race a Little Credit.” When I read it, I sent her a Gchat that said “I like it… until the end. Not because it’s bad but because I don’t agree at all.”

Girls can, in fact, be pretty terrible. In fact, I have always said I don’t want daughters, because when they get to be around junior high age, they’ll either be cruel, or they’ll be the victims of junior high girl cruelty. Either one makes me too sad.

I’m no man hater. I really like men. I like my male friends, and I like having male more-than friends too. One day I’d even like to marry one and have babies together. As I’ve stated before, I’m old-fashioned when it comes to gender roles.

But I have to stick up for my girls. Men do stupid shit. Women do stupid shit. To me, it’s not a matter of men being evil or women being crazy and manipulative. There are crazy and manipulative people, and there are people who do bad things. Yes, there are certain stereotypes, and there are huge differences between the two sexes. We’re wired differently. I recently read an article about how certain parts of the brain are completely different in men and women. We interpret and respond to situations differently because of our genetic makeup, just as R and I respond differently to things even though we’re both women of the same age and race.

But just because men are traditionally viewed as sex-crazed, insensitive jerks and women are viewed as crazy and manipulative doesn’t make it so. If this were the case, shouldn’t we also believe that all black people are like the characters in Tyler Perry movies?

I am at times manipulative, and at times irrational, and occasionally maybe a little bit crazy. Sometimes I am basically a walking female stereotype. Once, right after a breakup, a male friend came into my room to find me in bed crying while another female friend was saying “S, if you don’t eat anything, I’m not letting you have any alcohol. You have to get out of bed and come to dinner if you want to drink.” The male friend started laughing and called me a “giant ball of vagina.”

Two years later, however, a male friend was going through a tough breakup and asked me to come over. I got to his apartment to find him sitting in the dark crying. Who was the giant ball of vagina now?

So while I think R is an incredibly intelligent woman who enjoys spending her Friday nights in bed eating sushi and watching Hulu as much as I do, I’m going to have to say we disagree on this one.

Love always,
S

Living Life Unprofessionally

As you may or may not know, S and I are working on a journalistic endeavor that involves asking women around the country about their bad dates. We’re interviewing and uncovering these truly remarkable stories—women who have been dumped on street corners to fend for themselves mid-date, others who have had men scheme elaborate birthday plans after only a first meeting.

What’s been interesting along the way, though, is discovering the way that certain people react upon learning about our project.

The fun dating-expert girls from my gym (who so graciously have invited me out and into their homes to hear their stories) unilaterally react with excitement. They’re always chomping at the bit to reveal their stories. Understandably, the details roll off their tongues faster than their clothes flew off their bodies when that one-night stand happened in the first place. As one girl described it, sharing with us is like therapy. And who wouldn't want to have to pay their shrink to listen to them?

You’d think it would horrify older women the most when they hear about our project. After all, they’re all prudes who saved themselves for marriage and thus the worst sex on the planet, right?

Oddly enough, they also respond well to our undertaking. Most older women (and I’m talking the grandmothers of today) find the project to be clever, even cute. But, sorry nana, the story of you going on a horrible date and later finding out he was the son of the Shah of Iran is just not the type of “funny” we’re looking for. This is a true story coming from a woman who, at seventy-five years of age, miraculously still has her marbles. At least on the days when she doesn’t call me to tell me not to swim in a public pool because I’ll get bladder infections.

What’s funny, though, is how people in the professional world react to this topic. I quickly discovered that posting a question on Linked In as innocuous as “I’m working on a journalism project, need women as sources to talk about bad dates” immediately prompts a barrage of hate mail. Like seriously, words almost as bad as what Tiger Woods is probably still getting daily about how disgusting his overtly sexual behavior is.

Maybe the people who react so violently are the ones who have never even BEEN on a date, never mind a bad one, because they’re too busy reading the question section of their professional networking site. (Honestly, who is it that answers those questions anyway?)

I appreciate you women out there telling me that my boss would be ashamed of me for posting such a query on a professional site. Don’t worry, he’s already ashamed of me for other things I’m sure.

Really, I actually consider your thoughts. OK, fine, maybe I don’t listen to those specific frigid middle agers whose most recent fun experience was when their kid failed to puke on the car ride to Chucky Cheese.

Now’s the time in life to mess up and make both professional and social mistakes—and if it takes a little inappropriate behavior along the way to do it right, so be it.

XOXO,
R.