Tag Archives: date

0

On racism, misogny and dickery in modern romance

|

This morning, I read an article on a new dating app that has been specially created for people with plus size body types. I groaned and decided to put my judgement aside and look it up on Facebook. Under its short description, it said: WooPlus is a dating app, connecting local big beautiful women, plus-size men and their admirers. I groaned again, and rolled my eyes. I had to remind myself to not be so judgmental.

Hermione_eye_roll

The founder of the app said that the current unfortunate reality is that the dating environment is very cruel to bigger girls. Women get fat-shamed by entitled Tinder assholes all the time. And so, to create a safer dating space, an app specially for larger sized women was born.

The app promises to help plus size singles find the right kind of companionship and aeonian love. It proudly states that users may no longer have to deal with creepers online and the rejection of society that claims thin is in.

Surely people can’t be so naive, right? Creepers are going to be creepers regardless! They’ll find you no matter where you go and they will continue to throw out hateful words. And an app that specially celebrates fat acceptance is exactly the kind of app that will get unwanted attention and potentially a slew of users who’d use it for all the wrong reasons. I am not just referring to the chubby chasers here but I can actually foresee hundreds of women being lured and potentially shamed online because people are assholes and will do anything and everything to make grand jocular remarks at the expense of someone’s feelings.

I see the merits of the app, I really do but I can’t help but feel a wave of disappointment hit me as I read about yet another community that feels the need to alienate itself from society to find themselves a space that doesn’t fester shaming and bullying.

You can run, but can you really hide?

The fact of the matter is that the current unfortunate reality is that the dating environment is cruel to anyone who doesn’t fit conventional standards. It’s for this very reason that there are so many goddamn dating apps to fit every community or interest group. Are you Jewish and only looking to date Jewish women/men? Sure, we have an app for that! Looking for an Indian girlfriend/ boyfriend? Of course, we have a website for you too! What was that? Looking for someone who is into polyamory? We got you covered! Are you stinking rich and only interested to cosy up to someone who matches your social status? There is an app for you, young millionaire! There is something for everyone. I get it. We all have different needs but I can’t help but feel like we’re alienating ourselves more than anything else. And to me, the cons of building these walls up to only seemingly surround yourself with people you think are similar to you, and thus won’t hurt you, outweigh the pros.

When it comes to online dating, apparently, everyone’s a little bit racist and kind of awful, said OkCupid’s co-founder Chris Rudder in a 2014 interview. He goes on to explain this more in his book, Dataclysm, Who we are when we think no one’s looking. You can call it preference, you can call it prejudice but we’re all guilty of being explicitly clear on traits we don’t care for. Sites like Tinder and OkCupid are littered with racial and other physical preferences but we let them slide because we do it too and we’re all on the search for that prepossessing person that comes along to make you go weak in the knees.
I don’t want to pull the gender card here but statistics show that women face the brunt of these archaic attitudes online.

I have read probably hundreds of spectacularly offensive profiles that list things like:

“I’m not racist but Caucasian girls only.”

“Looking for voluptuous/ curvy women”

“No fatties!”

tumblr_mj4u4stRUA1qj13p7o8_250

You wouldn’t believe the number of times I’ve had people throw out casually racist/ sexist comments at me in their opening messages. Bearing in mind that I barely know this person:

“Are you Indian? You’re too fair and beautiful to be Indian.”

(Really? You really want to go there? It is exactly because of idiots like you that women feel compelled to lather on fairness creams and whiten their lady parts)

“I didn’t know that girls in Singapore are actually that cute!”

(Nothing like a backhanded compliment to get a girl to drop her panties.
Come, let me slowclap for you.)

“What’s your weight?”
(You only get one chance to make a good first impression and you have blown yours, Sir.)

“Your curves are beyond yummy. I love me some cushion for the pushin’.”
(I laughed at this one but no. just no.)

“Speaking of vegetarian stuff, those melons of yours look magnificent”
(They are magnificent indeed but your lack of self-awareness is far from magnificent, young padawan.)

anigif_enhanced-3038-1410891148-3

I don’t know exactly when it became socially acceptable to type these comments out to a complete stranger. I mean don’t get me wrong. I am all for lewd comments and this has nothing to do with conservatism but surely there is a time and place, and most definitely some rapport that needs to be built before anyone should have the green light to say the things they say.

Your life online is mediated through words you choose to share on dating sites. You socialise, you flirt, you ask questions and have them answered all through typing. It has so much potential to hold a certain epistolary grandness and yet people find new and innovative ways to shit on the whole idea of online dating.

I’m not disagreeing that we should be allowed to be have preferences. Most of us have particular preferences when it comes to sexual/romantic partners. Having a certain preference for a certain style isn’t inherently immoral. However, the approach you employ when advertising these preferences should be carefully examined because it says so much about you as a person.

In summary, these are my two cents:

1. On racism online – Putting down “no blacks” or “no rice” or “no curry” or “no spice” on your dating profile doesn’t mean you have a preference. It means you’re a racist cunt.

2. On niche dating apps – Beware of the power of circles. Elif Shafak in one of her old TED talks talked about how if you want to destroy something in this life, be it an acne, a blemish or a human soul, all you need to do is to surround it with thick walls so that it will dry up inside. Now we all live in some kind of a social/ cultural circle. If all the people in our inner circle resemble us, it means we are surrounded by our mirror image. Our hearts might dwindle and our humanness might wither if we stay for too long inside our cocoons. I think this is exactly what extremely niche dating apps do to people. They create a cocoon with the false promise of security but slowly break our spirit and our connection with the rest of the world.

3. On sexism online – I’ve never been a bra burning feminist but I do believe in equality and respect. I’ve seen women who proudly proclaim they are feminists online. I don’t think I have been particularly blatant about it mostly because I think everyone should be a feminist. It should be part and parcel of who you are. Plenty of men however might feel differently. I’ve read features on men telling women online to ‘lighten up’ and not be such an angry feminist. ‘You’d win more men over with sweet candy than with bitter vegetables,’ they’d say. *raises eyebrow*

Oh you foolish foolish men, misogyny and casual sexism will get you no candy. Now, go make me a sandwich.

0

The Danger Zone aka The Friend Zone

|

I’ve been meaning to address this for the longest time but life has gotten in the way of my – The Date Expectations – pursuits.

In the pilot season of F.R.I.E.N.D.S, (I know there appears to be a trend on quoting the series in quite a few of my posts) there is an episode where Ross is agonising over his secret love for Rachel, and Joey as a matter of fact informs him that he has sat on it for far too long and now it was nearly impossible to change this friendship to something romantic. His exact words were: Never gonna happen. You and Rachel. Because you waited too long to make your move and now, you’re in the friend zone…. Ross, you’re mayor of the zone.

giphy.gif

And so began the countless memes and popular culture references to this exact situation, where a friendship exists between two people, one of whom has unrequited romantic feelings for the other. Most of us have been there, either on the giving or receiving end of things. Some of you may deny this and conveniently erase this embarrassing memory from your otherwise perfect lives. But let’s not kid ourselves,  you too – Yes, you – have been there.

Just this year alone, I’ve met with friends and friends of friends who have discussed their dating experiences in detail with me, thanks to my pesky, nosy questions that I flagrantly pose at social events. And what was fascinating to me is how quite a few of them at some point in their lives, have had amorous interest in their friends or people in their immediate social circle, but held themselves back from acting on it because they felt like they had waited too long and had  found themselves in a situation where they’d been diabolically friend-zoned to a point of no return.

To write about this seemingly awful idea of the friend zone, you’d think that I have had ample experience in this danger zone but the truth is (and thankfully so), I can only think very few occasions where I’d been undeniably friend zoned. The first and most pivotal time, was in my teenage years where I mustered up the courage to befriend whom I thought was the cutest guy I’d ever met. We’d talk on the phone every night before we went to sleep and hung out every other day after school hours to enjoy 50 cent ice-cream cones from McDonalds’. It was only after 3 months that I found out that I was out of his league because he batted for the other team. He had developed a crush on a boy he had met and decided to tell me about it. I should have known from the way he perfectly styled his hair, the manner in which he wore his pants just a little too snugly and how he strutted down the streets. I should have seen the rainbow flag he was waving loudly and proudly. But when a man buys you ice-cream and your favourite gummi bear candy, and walks down the street with his arm around your shoulder, you get a little punch-drunk and disillusioned. In retrospect, it’s side-splitting and makes for an excellent story to recount at a party. But back when I actually realised we couldn’t be together, it left me dejected and pessimistic temporarily. The wonderful thing about your adolescent years is that most of us don’t remember things for long. You get hurt but you pick yourself up quickly and move on but in your adult years, the pain hits a little harder and you remember every detail the same way an elephant has steel-trap memories.

So to gather some qualitative data, I sent some friends (single and attached) a text message recently asking them to recount a time in their lives where they had either been friend-zoned or had consciously friend-zoned someone, and these are some of the replies I got:

“Being friend-zoned feels like you’re in purgatory. You think you’re fucking close to heaven but actually, you’re knee deep in hell.”

“If I have a feeling that he is pursuing me and I just wanna be friends, I’d make it a point to refer to him as ‘bro’ just to set the record straight without actively addressing the situation.”

“It’s like not getting the job you applied for even though you really wanted it and are definitely qualified for it. And the employer calls you up every day to sing praises about the person they did hire!”

“Coincidentally, I went out yesterday with a friend and got an almost confession. He was complimenting me and then suddenly said ‘I think if I had an ideal type of girlfriend, you come closest out of all the girls I’ve met.’ I sat there stunned and then went ‘haha thanks’. I guess he took my hint and just went on to talk about girls in general or something.”

“You go back and forth on whether you took too long to confess your feelings. You thought you were laying the foundation and making calculated moves but before you know it, she’s in the arms of some other guy, and telling you how she can’t wait for you to meet him.”

and because we all have that one smartass friend:

“Does it count if I haven’t told someone yet? I need to ring up Ryan Gosling tonight. I think it’s time he knew we can only be friends.”

A quick Google search will inform you that there are in fact books on the market that advise readers on how to get out of the friend zone if they’re in it. And for the non-book readers, there are tons of articles and listicles online on the topic. I trawled through the internet to find some answers but as we all know, the internet generally poses more questions than actually giving you any answers.

I’m not sure that we can forever avoid being in the friend zone. It is bound to happen at one or point or another. When you like someone or if you feel like you’re attracted to them, most of us try to get to know someone on a more platonic level to test the waters instead of diving nose deep into a sea of uncertainty. And besides, at risk of sounding naïve, don’t some of the best love stories stem from a solid, natural groundwork of friendship? From the superficial research that I’ve done prior to writing this entry, I realise a lot of self-help books immediately label men/women who try the friendship route as the ‘nice guys’ and how they need to snap out of it. There are so many articles that advise men particularly to stop playing the nice guy and get out there to claim what’s theirs. A little aggressive if you ask me! I mean I see their point. We all want to go out of our way to do nice things for the people we love. This is no different from it. That said, I understand the full value of self-preservation and not devaluing oneself. No one should make all the sacrifices and make unnecessary compromises at the risk of looking like a doormat but you feel what you feel so where do you draw the line?

Yet again, I have only questions and no answers. Dr Helen Fisher might have some insight on this so you could check in with her. But if I had to dole out some advice, it would be this. Firstly, you – yes you – who is harbouring super loveydovey feelings and spending every waking minute imagining who your offspring is going to take after, you or the love of your life who doesn’t know it yet – STAWP! Crack addicts need their crack but crack, I hear tastes a lot better when you’ve had some separation time so do just that. Peel yourself from how you feel and leave some breathing room for the friendship to possibly flourish to a relationship. And you – If you’re in a situation where you know someone has romantic feelings for you and you might feel the same, let them know instead of leashing them along on a wild ride. But if you don’t see the potential for something more, don’t be an asshole and sweep the matter under the rug thinking the matter would resolve itself. Address it! This person, this friend of yours has feelings and emotions just like you do and is capable of heartbreak and anxiety just like you are, so put them out of their misery and let them know you’d like to be friends. It’s not going to be pretty and it will most definitely be awkward for a while, because who wants to hear from the person they might be in love with that they just want to be buddies? – how awful! – but at least you’d have set the record straight from the very beginning and both parties are clear.  And who knows, you might end up being the best of friends and laughing about it at a Christmas party in years to come.

card4752

xo

0

A Spankin’ Good Time

|

[Contribution]

Vacations are great for the soul. Vacations as a single woman are even better. The world suddenly (albeit finitely) becomes your oyster and your options are immediately limitless; you are a little less, nay a lot less inhibited. Vacation me is jarringly different from the real me. The control that I’m mad for, is left behind; No room for it in my suitcase and besides, the need to exercise control on vacation is inessential because vacation me is easy breezy and pretty much open to the idea of everything, well, almost everything. This sort of temporary philosophy in life, seen by most people as crazy, is thrilling and like the after-effects of copious amounts of tequila, also potentially perilous. Irrelevant thoughts when you’re Little Miss Easy Breezy on vacay.

About a month prior to a recent short trip to the Pacific Northwest (PNW), I decided to put all thoughts of serial killers aside and went onto two online dating platforms to 1. Shamelessly source for recommendations on what to do and eat in the city and 2. To potentially meet new folks to hang out with and experience the city I’ve been to umpteenth times through a different set of eyes.

Tinder and OkCupid demographics in the PNW seem to include plenty of men in fully disclosed open/ polyamorous relationships, and men who are serious about craft beer, their beards (if I had a dollar for every lumbersexual type I saw, I’d be rich), whiskey, cats, comments about their dogs and kids looking cuter than yours, the Seahawks, the Mariners, fishing, kayaking and cliff jumping. I’ve also learnt that phrasing is everything on a profile. Apparently, it’s completely legit to mention that one is ethically non-monogamous. I don’t know what that even means; do you sit through a certification course to determine if you’re an ethical non-monogamist or an unethical one? And when you stipulate that you are heteroflexible, does that simply mean you’re pansexual? Because it isn’t already painfully confusing enough for me to comprehend men that you now have to spin new fancy words to wrap my head around? That’s fine, so long as you aren’t going to cling wrap my naked body to a table and gorge my eyes out, I can try to understand. I’m not saying I agree with these careless modern labels, but I can try to understand.

Ethical non monogamists and polyamorous enthusiasts aside, the emerald city boasts an intellectually stimulating array of men. You know, the kind who take the time to craft sentences in an eloquent and charming manner, with a hint of cheekiness. And that’s precisely what drew me to Baby Jesus. Baby Jesus was affectionately dubbed as such because of his lusciously long tresses that resembled the son of God and a beard (*squeal) that is so impressively groomed that I wouldn’t be surprised if some Jewish person decided to betray him out of jealousy. Sacrilegious! I digress. Baby Jesus in a nutshell looked like a hippie but a well put together hippie – with an enviable career in video game design (nerd alert. Also, my kryptonite) for one of the powerhouses and an adventurous spirit. I knew instantly we would get along so when he offered to come pick me up from my hotel to take out on a surprise outing, I felt no fear nor discomfort at the idea. Generally, I have very good intuition when it comes to people. This would be the first time I’m meeting an almost complete stranger on a date in a foreign country. If my luck had been that terrible and if he had in fact turned out to be a creeper or God forbid, a mass murderer, I most definitely deserved the punishment that ensued for making such shockingly piss poor decisions in life.

After an evening of delicious tacos (the best in the emerald city, I’m told) Baby Jesus took me to my next stop – a well known cupcakery in the city. Any man who tries to win my heart with cupcakes gets bonus points no matter how much nicer his hair looks, compared to mine. I love meeting people who see the world differently from the way I do. Baby Jesus is a practicing Christian and was once engaged; He told me he loves going out on dates and that he loathes casual sex; Intimacy to him comes in other forms that don’t need to involve mindless sexual intercourse. I will soon learn what this actually means.

After an engaging conversation involving rambunctious laughter over a salted caramel and raspberry meringue cupcake; Both flavours were his choices as he looked at them sitting in the cake rack with lusty eyes, I couldn’t bear to let him simply choose one so I forwent my initial red velvet option to offer to pick his two favourites for us to share. Upon my thoughtful suggestion, he leaned over to the cashier and told him that I was the best date ever. Not-embarrassing-at-all.

The third part of our date involved a walk in the park. Baby Jesus had suggested in one of his text messages earlier that day for me to wear comfortable footwear and the walk in the park was the reason for this. The Summery day was coming to a nice cool evening and as we sat on the bench and talked about the things and people we have loved, I knew at that very moment that I was having a wonderful time. Upon a kneejerk comment I made about Americans being really daft, he leaned over and kissed, I suspect to shut me up. No complaints there.

As it got a little chilly, I invited Baby Jesus back to my suite to hang out over a cuppa tea. During the drive, it became evident what a naturally affectionate person he was. He spoke of his travels to India and why he loves what he does and throughout the entire 12 minute drive, he didn’t let go of my hand as he caressed it softly like we had known each other for years. At that point, I understood what he meant by intimacy in other forms.

Baby Jesus was an excellent kisser and my kind of nerd. I mean sure, I had to gently keep moving his hair from his face and tucking it behind his ears but what a refreshingly new thing to do. I remember cracking a joke about how it’s a good thing I have a haircut that resembles a boy’s to balance it all out. At that very moment, he slapped my bottom and I thought

– Oh my –

Being a video game designer means coming up with stories to make people’s fantasies online come true. Evidently, Baby Jesus adopted this stance in the bedroom as well. Granted this is a dating blog and not my very own version of Fifty Shades of Grey, I shall spare you all the details on what ensued. But let’s just say it was an exhilarating night of some cheeky fun that involved twitching open palms, a good set of sharp teeth and a leather belt. Laying in bed entangled all night in someone with whom you didn’t have sexual intercourse with is an experience worth writing a poem about.; it’s a different kind of intimacy, one I had never experienced before. As baby Jesus planted kisses on the back of my neck as he lulled me to sleep, I thought about three things before finally dozing off– Firstly, that intimacy is subjective and secondly, I had learned a very useful lesson on what it truly means to lose control and just let go. My final thought before Baby Jesus got the opportunity to hear my snores that resembles that of a baby grizzly bear’s grunts was a gentle reminder to myself to apply baby lotion to my stinging buttocks the following morning.

039d15b7fd95106c6a5a316295f71816

0

Height Fetish

|

Contributed by: András Tóth, Hungary

Definition of ‘fetish’: any object or nongenital part of the body that causes a habitual erotic response or fixation.

In the age of super fast and super easy apps for online dating, if you had the chance to describe yourself in a few sentences, how would you? Would you talk about your passions, goals and hopes, or dish out a witty line suggesting there’s more in your brain, maybe even a quote subtly telling us you don’t have original thoughts of your own, or…

1

So unfortunate… These women identify with their height…

Yes. Your height. With that you’re basically telling me that after your 20- or 30-something years all you have to show for is your height. Is it an achievement on which you have worked night and day? Many parts of the body can be shaped or reshaped, even if you were unlucky with your DNA… But your height unfortunately isn’t one of these parts, sorry.

Apart from giving the impression of a total lack of remotely any exciting mental abilities, what these people also miss that after you have been matched, he (even after all these years of feminism, most of the time it will still be a he and not a she 😦 ) could base his first question on your introduction. If you provided your height, a possible conversation could look like this:

Nancy (27 173/63), Li (30 170/65):

Li: Hi Nancy! Glad to meet you!
Nancy: Hi Li!
Li: Are you really 173 tall?
Nancy: Yes.
Li: Good.
Nancy: And you are only 170?
Li: Yes.
Nancy: 😦 So sad. Now I will unmatch you.

OK, I know it’s a dealbreaker for some people, but can I ask what function does height in sex have? The answer would be ‘no function’, unless it is a fetish: like the one when you can’t be aroused if your partner doesn’t wear high heels. What’s the difference?

2

The first line says in Hungarian: “Don’t try it below 178cm!”

The other thing I cannot understand about height nazis, is that what would happen if their partner would stand on a step below them on the escalator? Instant loss of interest? Or would I get instant respect and arousal if I get a box to stand on? Or can I “hack” your fetish with wearing stilts or an overly large/ high shoe?

3

Can you imagine? People wore these in Hungary in the 90s during the techno era.

Yeah, I’m not dumb – I know it’s about what others will think about the relationship if your man is shorter… I’ll tell you what they’d think: “Wow, what can this little guy possibly know about sex?”.

Wouldn’t it be a great indirect compliment? 😉

Personally I have a list that goes before actual parameters: her sexual impact, if we are on the same wavelength relating to humor, intellect, lightness of heart, honesty, dignity, respect, fun, energy…

Let’s perhaps look at a good example, where I can assume that neither she, nor I are interested in each others’ height:

4

I will love you if you don’t kill me with your dog! I promise!

2

This is what they don’t tell you about one night stands.

|

What they don’t tell you about one night stands

They tell you your body is a temple.
They tell you it’s 2015 and you ought to sample the goods.
They tell you about the teasing and how to do it right – when to laugh and touch your hair.
They tell you that promiscuity is a label reserved strictly for her.
They tell you to always show up confident and prepared, foil in your purse.
They tell you to stop and think twice, while he gets his chestbumps and highfives.
They tell you that post coitus cuddles are a faux pas.
They tell you that if one key unlocks a bunch of locks, it’s a master key.
They tell you that if one lock can be opened by a bunch of keys, it’s damaged.
They tell you to skip the smalltalk and show yourself out.
They tell you it’s a trophy pride for him and a walk of shame for her.
They tell you to celebrate female empowerment and take control.
They tell you about the value of self-preservation and pride.
They tell you everything, and yet nothing at all.

What they don’t tell you is how pleasure is a goal in itself and that for just one night you don’t have to worry about the size of your stretch marks. They don’t tell you that life doesn’t always have to be about sticking to the plot and giving yourself away strictly in the most idyllic scenarios. They don’t tell you how the streetlights flicker just before the break of dawn. They don’t tell you how liberating it is exploring the playground, at least until you get sand kicked in your face or thrown off a swing; Which is when they don’t tell you about the panic attack that hits you the day after, when you least expect it as you brush your teeth in your pajamas, rinsing off the taste of last night’s kisses lingering uncomfortably on your tongue. They don’t tell you about the involuntary physical reactions that ensue; They don’t tell you how to drown out the deafening silence of your own breathing; or how to manage the horrible surge of pain that spills out of you in uncontrollable tears. They don’t tell you that when it’s all said and done, all you really desire are fingers that will twirl the stubborn curls of your tresses, a freckled clavicle to bury your imperfect face in, the beating of a heart that will calm your nerves, and a warm body that will defy and stay the night.

—–

image

0

On First Date Etiquette: Kisses, Handshakes or Hugs?

|

bampw-black-and-white-bsf-couple-vintage-Favim_com-213252_large

Let’s face it. First dates are potentially dicey. You’ve brazenly swiped each other and exchanged badinage online, but now the time has come for you to meet for the first time. You might choose to meet at a coffee place, a cocktail bar or even a restaurant, if you bask in high pressure situations.(Seriously. You’ll need at least 90 minutes for dinner and if you’re having a horrid time, there is no escaping!). Now, once that’s decided and as you patiently wait at your meeting spot trying to furiously recall if you’ve put on deodorant, you see your date walking towards you — How do you plan to break the first physical barrier? You have about 10 seconds to decide if 1) you’re going to shake their hand, 2) give them a hug, 3) lean in for a kiss or 4) in true millennial fashion, whip out an unorthodox hello such as a fist bump/ shoulder squeeze or simply stand there like a Botero sculpture.

I’m a fairly confident person but even I do not immediately go in for the sweeping Hollywood embrace. People are cautious and if there is anything I’ve learned over the years as a public relations practitioner, it is to always observe people’s body language, tread lightly and try to take their cue. That said, first impressions are crucial to me so I seize any given opportunity to break the touch barrier because it inevitably sets the tone for the rest of the evening.

The sense of touch is by far the most fascinating and necessary of the sensory system, and my favourite of the five senses because there’s something in us that is well beyond the reach of words or sounds — something that eludes and defies our pursuit to explain it. The sense of touch develops well before all other senses in embryos, and is the primary manner in which infants learn about their environment and bond with other people. Throughout life, we use our sense of touch to learn, protect ourselves, relate to others, and to experience pleasure. Sometimes, when I’m seated on a crowded bus and my shoulders or sides of my thighs brush up against the person seated next to me, (and after I’ve gotten over the initial wave of repulsion from involuntarily touching a complete stranger) there is a certain feeling of comfort that ensues.

So what exactly do I do when I meet a date for the first time? It really depends on what my body tells me to do along with my date’s body language. These days I either go in for a quick peck on the cheek, followed by a hug that neither lingers too long nor ends too quickly, or I do the European thing where I shake their hands and kiss both cheeks. I can’t remember the last time I simply shook my date’s hand on the first meeting. Dates that begin with a cold, prudish handshake in my opinion are doomed from the very beginning. The only exception for this is if you haven’t spent much time chatting with each other before meeting. But if you’re like me who enjoys taking the time to suss out your online matches before agreeing to go out, then there is absolutely no need for a business meeting greeting. And I’ll be honest here — call me a creeper but I am guilty of inching closer just to get a whiff of my date. I do it with discretion of course, no one needs to know I’m on a pheromone prowl — so far, so good. Once the touch barrier is broken for the first time, it depends entirely on the chemistry between my date and I for me to want to touch them again. It is not often that I feel inclined to do so, but if I do find myself wanting to touch their face or their hand or perhaps a gentle stroke of their arm, it’s a good indication that I am comfortable and fond of them, platonically so or otherwise.

That said, in a date setting, no one enjoys a gauche greeting but we’ve all been there. You can have all the confidence in the world, in the vessel that is your body but I’ve stopped counting the number of times I feel some kind of insane storm in my belly as I try to kiss someone’s cheek, mis-aim and plant my lips on their ear instead. There have also been proud moments in my life where my date would place his hand out so I could shake it but instead I go in for a hug resulting in an awkward hand-on-my-boob situation. It ain’t a pretty sight but it happens and there is no back pedalling out of that. And that’s okay. Because at the end of the day, we’re all a curious mixture of strength and fragility, diffidence and bravery. You just wear your best smile, open your heart and go with it while constantly reminding yourself to aim for the cheek and not the fucking ear next time.

How do you prefer to greet your first date?

0

On Open Relationships and Monogamy

|

1950s TWO WOMEN KISSING SINGLE MAN ON OPPOSITE CHEEKS HIS FACE COVERED WITH LIPSTICK MARKS2015 is proving to be a year of firsts for me. A good chunk of these experiences have been conscious, deliberate choices, to step out of my comfort zone, put myself in possibly uncomfortable situations and see if I can wiggle my way either comfortably into them or out of them. One of the more recent decisions I had made was to go out with someone in an open relationship. That sounds ambiguous. To be clear, the man I chose to go out on a date with had very specifically indicated on his profile that he was presently in an open relationship. I scoffed as I looked at the status, the same way I do when I read profiles with grammatical/spelling errors. So what possessed me to agree to head out and have a meal with someone who already kinda sorta belongs to someone else in a no strings attached relationship? I don’t even know what the fuck an open relationship is. Can it really be called a relationship if you’re allowed to see other people? There is a largely conservative part of me that finds this whole idea tainting the sanctity of a relationship between two people.

People struggle with commitment, I get it. But I’ve always been a strong advocate for monogamy. I have so much love to give but I’d like to smother one person at a time with love and affection. So, what does it mean to date someone in an open relationship? In a nutshell and thus far, you’re a time-filler, or at least it feels a lot like it. Do I mind it? I’m not sure yet. But I will tell you that it feels extremely odd sitting in a movie theatre with someone who holds your hand tightly like you’re the only person that matters; however, you know this person is not quite yours. He is yours, for that day but he belongs to someone else on another day. Or perhaps he belongs to no one at all. People create the relationship that works for them. Sharing has never been my strong suit. I always tell people there are two things in life I never share – my cake and my lovers. So why would I intentionally walk down this misty road?

I’m going to narrow my decision down to curiosity. Since our paths crossed, I have had burning questions on how such an arrangement, such a partnership works. And turns out, it’s not all that complicated. Thanks to the Internet, I have learnt that there have been a number of theories on people and monogamy.

‘Just because you have chosen to be a vegetarian, doesn’t mean that bacon stops smelling good.’ – Christopher Ryan

Christopher Ryan, a PhD of psychology and co-author of the book Sex at Dawn argues that “human sexuality has essentially evolved, until agriculture, as a way of maintaining and establishing the complex social networks that our ancestors were very good at.” He is also quick to note he is saying ancestors were promiscuous, but is not saying they were having sex with strangers, because, “There were no strangers.” Essentially according to him, we are sexual omnivores and that we all have closets we have to come out of.

He believes that monogamy is not hardwired in either gender. In fact, he says that sexual exclusivity came to be much later, with monogamy in many societies becoming the ideal way to raising a family. This, according to him was especially reinforced in the prudish/ highly conservative Victorian era. Ryan notes that while monogamy has now become the correct and proper way of life in many societies today where women and men are conditioned to believe that being faithful is the natural way, when in fact, our primal urges are simply to be promiscuous.

Deepak Chopra has said as well that it all boils down to ‘social revolution’ – born from the family structure and subsequent need for stability and security with a partner. The issue however is that these values tend to contradict basic human needs: for thrill, variety and on a primal level – to just get it on.

According to the National Science Foundation, only 3 to 5% of mammals are monogamous. Studies have found that sexual monogamy also relies on hormones and receptors that the brain releases. Humans’ receptors vary from person-to-person resulting in some people leaning more towards polyamory than others.

Perhaps, I’m not evolved enough, and trapped by my own inhibitions and conservatism. Or maybe I’m just too damn selfish to share the person I love with someone else. But Ryan is right. Bacon doesn’t stop smelling good. But since I have made the personal decision to be vegetarian, I will always choose brussel sprouts over bacon.

0

“I like the way you say Raspberries”

|

image

The internet dating pool is a playground. You meet all sorts of people. Typically, they’re engineers, bankers, accountants, pilots but every now and then, you speak to someone whose professional choice gets your full and undivided attention. “I’m sorry, but did you just say you’re a mathematician?” Sploosh. “A Human Rights specialist for the United Nations?” *fans self* or most recently, “You’re a chef? You mean a real one?”

 ***

Now if you know me well enough, you’d know that I have a massive weakness for food, nay, a deep and dark love affair with food. I’ve gone out with people who have actually mentioned things like “wow, you really like to eat, don’t you?” or “You talk a lot about food!” Why yes, I do, thank you very much. So imagine my absolute delight when I found out that I was talking to a chef. When you put two people who love food together at a table, some kind of magic happens. Immediately, you are given free rein to go into explicit detail about the creme bulee you once had at a tiny little French restaurant that still haunts you to date. Suddenly, you no longer sound bat shit crazy when you passionately talk about your lobbying for the ban of Vanilla essence and Matcha-based desserts. And just like that, everything’s on the table for discussion.

There are things people don’t tell you about dating a chef. They’re intense, wildly intense. It’s almost a little intimidating. They’re also constantly working – The kitchen is their mother, wife and mistress. They make this crystal clear, from the very beginning so if you date a chef, you find creative ways to fit into the crevices of their busy lives..

When I first started chatting with Mr Chef, I didn’t know what he did for a living. We had a heated discussion on what is the definitive American dessert – Pecan Pie or Carrot Cake. To which I said, I’m not a fan of neither but I can make a delicious pie and cake. He said he could too. But because I’m an arrogant asshole, I said “I’m sure you could but mine probably tastes better.” Of course, once I found out that he was a chef, I pretty much swallowed my words whole and felt a little embarrassed. “If I had known you were a chef, I wouldn’t have made that douchey comment about being a better baker,” I texted, sheepishly. To which he replied with much class, “I’m sure you’re still the better baker.” Sploosh.

I met Mr Chef for dinner a week later. We had been exchanging messages all week on discussion topics ranging from food (big fuckin’ surprise!) to films and Mr Chef’s life in the Big Apple before coming here. It’s very rare that I would agree to a dinner on a first date – feels like too much of a commitment, having to sit through an entire meal with a stranger. What if you’ve realised you’re having a terrible time by the time you’re done with your appetiser. You can’t just feign an emergency and run away. It’s 2015 – People know all the tricks there are in the books! So my strategy is just to go for a drink and see where the evening takes us. However, it seemed only right that two foodies (one professional, one amateur) should bond over a meal. Indian, it was – my choice, of course. I was 5 minutes late, something that always leaves me unnerved on a date. I like being early. Alas, traffic fucked me over. He politely waited outside the restaurant. I gave him a peck on the cheek and led him to what could quite possibly be the best Indian meal of his life. Unlikely. But I enjoy dishing out the hyperboles.

Statistically, it takes 1200 seconds, that’s 20 minutes, to decide if there is chemistry between two people. I might have over-generalised this statement but it is true to me. It takes me all in all 20 minutes to decide if there is a spark. I mean sure, we could all argue that chemistry can be built over time. The question here is, could this time be spent doing something else worthier?

Mr Chef was quick to inform me from the very beginning of the evening: “I just want to say that this is my resting face. It looks like I’m always annoyed or bored but I assure you that it has nothing to do with how I actually feel.” What an unfortunate resting face. I chortled, and we proceeded to commence selecting our food – He sank at ease into his seat and told me he trusted me to make the right selections off the menu. As we perused the menu, I wondered at what point was I going to feel this said chemistry, if at all. I looked up and sneaked a look at his face. Was there a facial feature that gave me the butterflies? Nope. What about his hands? Hmm. How does one find chemistry when it doesn’t want to be found?

We talked about dessert – easily one of my favourite conversation topics – and the varieties that we enjoyed baking and stuffing our faces with. The topic of tarts and pies came up. “I am rather selective when it comes to tarts. Lemon and raspberries are acceptable. I don’t understand the appeal of pumpkin.”

Mr Chef smiled and said, “I like the way you say Raspberries.”

Sixteen minutes in. Damn it. Where are you hiding, Chemistry? Show yourself!

It didn’t make an appearance that evening. We did however, have an enjoyable meal and comfortably discussed many things from useless trivia to David Sedaris to our shared love for Wes Anderson films.This comes easy for extroverts. I think I was hoping for chemistry. Chefs are supposed to be intense, passionate and ooze fiery sex appeal. False advertising, I say. This is what happens when you’ve watched too many episodes of Parts Unknown, lusting after Anthony Bourdain. I have no one to blame but myself.

I paid for dinner, like I usually do when I ask someone out. No big deal. Controversial decision, I hear from the people I speak to regarding bills on the first date. To go Dutch? Should the Guy pay? Should the Girl? This is perhaps best left for another entry. Mr Chef didn’t seem too pleased with the idea of me paying but he didn’t persist. I don’t like the drama. He walked me to the train station and we parted ways with a quick peck on the cheek.

“Shall we see each other again?”

“Sure, why not?” I said.

“Maybe we can watch a movie or something next time round. I have a crazy schedule. I never plan things so you’ll have to let me know.”

At this point I thought, “never plan anything? Well, that’s just lazy.”

I smiled very politely and said “I guess I’ll let you know then.”

Because 20 minutes was all I needed to figure out that there wasn’t going to be a second date. Maybe I’ll need to manage my expectations and find myself a pastry chef next. In the meantime, I suppose binging on re-runs of Parts Unknown and No Reservations, while fantasising about my life with Mr Bourdain will have to suffice. Sploosh.