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If You Could Leave Yelp Reviews about Your Dates

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Howard
35, Programmer

A Real Catch (if you’re a dessert sharer)!

★★★★☆

Funny, Fresh and Fine! Easily one of the most eligible bachelors in the Pacific Northwest.

Despite terrible traffic, Howard showed up on time for our mid-week date, effortlessly chic in a casual polo tee, dark jeans and leather boots. His dinner spot location was well thought out. It was bustling enough to drown out any potentially awkward silences but quiet enough to hear each other take turns to humblebrag. Howard is certainly not a morning person so I’d highly recommend that you schedule any and all dates with him no earlier than noon. If you’re a Happy Hour hound, forget about your Monday night drinks sesh because this guy doesn’t consume a drop of alcohol. The upside to this is that he will drive you home as you drunkenly sob about how much you hate your co-workers. He has a sweet tooth so be warned that he will eat his slice of cake and reach out for yours while distracting you with his devilishly enchanting eyes. All in all, a fun evening and I would’ve definitely gone out with Howard on a second date but there are lines which should not be crossed and I draw mine at sharing dessert. That said, ladies who steer clear of sugar and/or those on the Keto diet, he won’t be on the market for long so go get it!

Highlights

√ Funny
√ Successful
√ Handsome
√ Respectful

Lowlights

× Conservative
× Will steal your sweets
× Not a morning person = not a brunch person
× Doesn’t drink (could be a highlight if you need a designated driver)

More Info

Fashion acumen – Smart Casual Chic
Real or fake profile – Definitely real
Good for showing off to friends – Yes
Good for Kids – Possibly
Age accuracy – Spot on
Photo accuracy – Spot on
Does real life personality match online personality – Yes
Chances of sending you unsolicited dick pics – Slim to none
Alcohol – No
Happy Hour – No
Smoking – No

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Richard
32, Comic Artist

Bug-a-boo

★☆☆☆☆

It’s not you, it’s the germs!

I want to commend Richard for staying committed to showing up to a first date even though he was under the weather — I really do — but there is nothing attractive about sitting across the table from a man with a handkerchief in hand, blowing his nose like a trumpet.  Handkerchiefs are said to be old-fashioned, gentlemanly and sexy right? Wrong! “Would you like a piece of tissue?” I asked as I stared at his ‘kerchief and thought about all the snot it had been collecting like a germ bank throughout the evening.  I ended the evening within an hour or so, partly because sick people are no fun and partly because I thought it’d be best he rested. Here’s a protip, Richard: Next time, reschedule if you’re under the weather. We want to see the best of you on a first date — pocketful of personality — not a pocketful of germs!

Highlights

√ Hardworking, probably
√ Keeps promises
√ Old-fashioned

Lowlights

× Germ breeder and spreader
× Snot-on-handkerchief

More Info

Fashion acumen – Hobo chic
Real or fake profile – Real
Good for showing off to friends – If you’d like the to die from the flu bug, yes
Good for Kids – Debatable
Age accuracy – Spot on
Photo accuracy – Dated! Profile picture is at least 5 years old
Does real life personality match online personality – Hard to say
Chances of sending you unsolicited dick pics – Slim to none
Alcohol – No
Happy Hour – No
Smoking – No

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The pursuit of undeserved happiness

Remember that scene in City of Angels where Meg Ryan’s character happily in love, rides her bike with her eyes closed and her arms wide open only to be fatally hit by a truck? Now, while I know the crucial lesson here is that operating any kind of machinery with your eyes shut and arms over your head generally results in death or some semblance of it, there seems to be a larger message at hand. Happiness is a precarious little thing and this scene in a nutshell summarises how I’ve often felt about most good things that happen to me, including falling in love. It is both exhilarating and terrifying, a blessing and a curse. It’s a constant reminder that everything in life that has been bestowed upon me is not something I truly deserve and could be snatched from my hands in a heartbeat at any time, but especially when I’m on a high.

“Careful, you’ll jinx it.”

This is something my sister and I often say to each other when we overtly express unadulterated joy or excitement over something, over anything really, from a job interview that went exceptionally well to a new blossoming friendship or even that new chicken stew recipe you think you’ve perfected. Don’t get ahead of yourself, Martha because there is a good chance you’re gonna fuck it all up.

Over the years, I’ve reminded myself many times to be grateful and to be happy but not too happy. Why? Self-preservation, perhaps? Inherently a negative Nancy? Or just superstitious? Maybe this is a product of my upbringing. Perhaps somewhere in there, lies a question of self-worth but that I’m certain is not a box I am inclined to open and take a peek into. I am trying to understand how and why we became so illogically cautious over voicing our happiness. Why do I assume, beyond reason and logic that articulating how blessed I am feeling (irl without the hashtag, of course), may lead to impending and excruciating loss? It sounds completely and utterly foolish, doesn’t it? And yet, this is my truth and I fail by my own damn complications.

As I hush the most recent obliterative whispers questioning my amour-propre and prerogative, I am trying to take chances, be recklessly expressive, be unafraid and live it and live in it. When life throws me a delicious bone, I am learning to gratefully (and boldly) accept it, place it on the silver platter that it rightfully deserves and chew on it, marvel at it and claim it. Why, you ask? Because I am flawed but I am also grateful, and loving something will always trump my own debilitating fear of losing something I love, regardless of whether I’m enough.

x.

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Pros and Cons of a Long Distance Relationship

With the advent of technology, Long Distance Relationships (LDR) are so much more common than people think. Even so, I’ve found myself many a time inadvertently defending LDRs and their legitimacy.

“No, don’t awwwww me. It’s really not a horrible situation to be in!”

“The relationship is still real!” 

“What do you mean how do we have sex? We can still be intimate!” (*while wondering* “WTF? Why am I even having to explain my sex life?!”)

“They can work and couples have time and time again proven that!”

“No, it doesn’t make it any harder to be faithful!”

rude

While LDRs are not an ideal situation to be in, it’s no more or less stressful than maintaining a conventional relationship. It does come with its own set of problems and in the same breath, opportunities to get creative and conquer those very challenges. From someone who has done this before and is currently in one now, I truly believe LDRs are workable. It’s most certainly not for everyone (yes, I’m looking at you, you codependent types!) and I wouldn’t recommend going out of your way to look for a partner who lives halfway across the world because that would make you a crazy person. But other than that, definitely doable or if I am being cautiously optimistic*, definitely doable thus far. You learn as you go along and hope for the best.

 

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Pros:

  • Getting to reinstate the art of writing letters and talking on the phone, particularly the latter because I derive great joy from the hand cramp and ear soreness that comes right after the end of a 90-minute phone conversation with my boyfriend… a feeling that is very different from when you’re on the phone on hold for the same length of time with your telco service provider when they’ve fucked up your bill.
  • If you’re both insanely independent people, it is fairly easy to live in separate parts of the world and do adult things like having cocktails with your friends or dining alone without feeling like you’re going to crumble to pieces in the absence of your partner… on most days anyway.
  • An LDR is the biggest lesson I could receive in effective communication – When you can’t physically be next to someone, you consciously fill the space between with words and feelings to bring you closer together. While it’s really nice to lounge around cuddled up watching your favourite shows on Netflix in silence, there is something truly comforting and intimate about having meaningful conversations with each other about the things that matter and perhaps even the things that don’t really matter.
  • The Countdown High – planning, anticipating and marking out the days until you see each other again next can almost always make even the darkest of days a little brighter.
  • According to science, absence makes the heart grow fonder and distance can cultivate fondness and a genuine lasting connection. Can’t argue with science, folks!
  • The connection is more than just physical – I am naturally a physical/ touchy-feely person but working on the emotional aspects of a relationship makes me feel so much more secure. Sure, love me for my body but love me more for me!

Cons:

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  • Pillows don’t cuddle back, neither do vibrators.
  • Bawling when you have to part ways, especially when the bawling happens in public spaces like the airport or on-board the plane.
  • Severe lack of date nights = Table for One, please? Oh never mind, I’ll just have it to-go!
  • Feeding people baked goods is one of the elaborate ways I show my love and affection but being miles away from your partner means you only get to send him styled Instagram shots of your chocolate tart with captions like “FUDGE you, distance!” or “I only have eyes pies for you, boo!“.
  • Missing out on the good and the bad – When either of you’ve had a terrible day or even an exceptional good one, and you can’t physically be there for hugs and high-fives respectively.
  • When the technology you’re so dependent on (and grateful for) royally fucks you over while you’re on a voice/video call with your partner just as you’re sharing a juicy piece of news with them. “Wait, I can’t hear you! What was that last bit? Hello? You’re breaking up!”
  • When you get invited to after dark social gatherings and are asked to bring your partner or a plus one but you end up going alone while your boyfriend is 6000 miles away asleep because daylight savings.
  • Expensive plane adventures. You want to fly over on holiday weekends but Zuji and Expedia are showing you exorbitant ticket prices. You could be frugal and purchase a budget plane ticket but you’re a spoiled brat who can’t sit in what feels like a sardine can for longer than 2 hours. Life is hard and cruel! #dramaqueen

mindy

***

*After my last long distance relationship failed, I didn’t think I could do the whole distance thing again. There was so much contempt, distrust and miscommunication over the 3-4 years – enough to take the wind out of my sails. But life works in funny little ways. Using food analogies (my favourite!) as an example, it’s like eating foie gras for the first time but it’s served to you in a pâté form which turns out, your taste buds are utterly repulsed by. Traumatised (and grossed out) by your first bad experience, you decide never to even look at goose liver again until one day, just out of the blue, it is offered to you on a beautiful plate, pan seared to perfection with a side of caramelized pears and drizzled with a balsamic reduction. And then suddenly, just like that, you’ve discovered a gastronomic wonder and your heart (and belly) fills with joy when you think about foie gras. I wrongfully blamed a lot of my past relationship’s failures on the distance when perhaps it was much more than just not being in the same space. And it’s liberating to be proven otherwise now with someone who makes you feel good. That said, as I am writing this, I can’t help but feel cautiously optimistic. It feels a tad uncomfortable talking about a relationship that is newish and currently going so well. There is an underlying sense of anxiety that it could all go so wrong but fear hasn’t stopped me before and it certainly wouldn’t stop me now.

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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.

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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!”

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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.)

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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.

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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.

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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.

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xo

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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!

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On First Date Etiquette: Kisses, Handshakes or Hugs?

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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?

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“I like the way you say Raspberries”

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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.

4

The boy with the gift of laughter.

(Contribution)

I met a boy last weekend – A boy whose laughter sounded like the chimes of church bells. The first time he laughed, I felt a somersault deep in my belly. It was an entrancing laugh, the sort of laughter that could light up an entire room. Whoever said that a smile could light up a room didn’t get the best possible deal. A bellowing laugh that could illuminate any room – now that, that is something special.

“You’re funny,” he said.

“I like hearing you laugh. Looks like I might have to try and be funny all night,” I replied and meant every word of it.

Church bell chimes and somersaults all night. Sometimes that’s all you need to feel, on days where you feel like you couldn’t feel anything at all.

His gift of laughter was paired with incredibly beautiful eyes. Somersaults. I couldn’t quite say if they were gray or green. Somewhere in between and I loved that they were undefinable. It always makes me flutter when I can’t quite find the right words to define something. That mystery of it makes me feel like there are so many things and instances where there aren’t words in the lexicon to describe, perfectly. It makes me feel like there is so much I don’t know.

The eighth time I made him laugh, I recall vividly; He said he was shy and yet, he was quite the rebel – leaving his home in Brazil to travel the world and get paid for it. I called him a Unicorn and said shy rebels don’t exist. I gently poked his forehead with my index finger and jokingly and accusingly asked where he was hiding his horn. He laughed, touched my hand and kissed me. The church bells in my head chimed.

The boy whose laughter sounded like the chimes of church bells was sweet, affectionate and gentle. It would be unlikely that we would see other again. And yet, our paths had crossed for some reason. Later that evening, in bed, he rested his head on my chest and we talked about why we do the things we do. We talked about the people we love. We spoke of the places we love, the music we listen to and our fears.

“Am I too heavy for you?” he asked.

“No, I think you’re just fine.”

We made love later that evening. It was intimate in every sense of the word. I had never been with anyone who kissed every inch of my body or someone who wanted to look at me throughout the night, every line, scar, mole and fold on my unforgiving body. Somersaults.

“You have beautiful eyes”, I said.

“You have a beautiful smile” he replied as he kissed the tip of my nose.

Short of breath and exhausted, I sought to remember the moment. I attempted to memorize it all. The pursuit of pleasure often involves feeling good in the short-term. We take what we can get and continue to stay on the hedonic treadmill with the hopes that one day, we will reach a permanent state of eudaimonia. But this was different. It wasn’t just a one night stand. It was a feeling that was going to stick. And that the lesson to be learned from this was that I could be loved the way I deserved, even if only for one night. And it reminded me that physical affection is something I couldn’t do without, even if I tried. As we lay exhausted and wrapped around each other in bed, we enjoyed the silence. It wasn’t awkward. It wasn’t uncomfortable. It was perfect. I strived to remember the moment.

We hugged and kissed for minutes after, remembering the features we like on each other’s faces.

“Never stop laughing, okay?” I demanded gently as I kissed him one last time, after clothing myself slowly, relishing every remaining moment of his company.

“Only if you never stop smiling,” the boy whispered.

Somersaults.

“Deal.”

The church bells chimed again, a little softer, almost as if it were far in the distance but I could still hear it. I can still hear it.

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