The principles of real estate are unfortunately not applicable to men.

I remember several months ago, Ally complained to me that she needed to stop meeting guys at the bar. I tried to explain to her that it was just common practice; people went to the bar to find dates (okay, usually to get laid. But sometimes to find dates!) Yet she persisted...."I want to meet someone, I don't know, at the library!" I believe my exact response was, "That is ridiculous. People do not hit on people at the library. If someone tells you they got hit on at the library, they are lying liars. Besides, it'd be creepy to get hit on at the library."



Thankfully I didn't offer to eat my hat if I was wrong, or I'd have to be shoveling a gray knit cap down my throat right now. Ladies and gentlemen (a shocking number of gentlemen who read this, by the way), I got hit on at the library. While sitting at a computer dilligently facebooking and listening to my ipod, the young man next to me kept looking over. I thought I had something on my face. But when I got up to leave, sure enough he said he thought he knew me from somewhere (he didn't), and then invited me to a party (that didn't exist). He apologized later for the party not existing, via the email address I excitedly gave him, and asked me out for coffee.



Location, location, location...only works if you're looking to invest in some lakeside property. The boy I met at the library, the place women secretly fantasize about meeting potential mates, was a bust. He had poor grammar, used shorthand and smileys, and frequently texts me things like "sup" or "lol". There you have it, people. Someone you meet at the library has the exact same potential for being a dumbass as someone you meet while slamming tequila at the bar, except this time you can't blame beer goggles.



It got me thinking back to the last few guys I've dated, post my swearing off meeting guys while I was drunk. I met one who worked with a friend of mine...flakey jerk. I met one at a model united nations conferences...flakey, perverted jerk. I met one in a political science class...flakey, perverted, kind of psychotic jerk. The track record for my new crop of legitimately acquired mates was actually significantly worse than dudes I had met at bars, or worse yet, house parties. My life is scientific proof that he is not Mr. Right just because he is Mr. Right Place. So the next time you're 7 shots into the night, and find yourself oggling someone...proceed guilt free. People are just as likely to suck if you meet them at the library, and at least they look better when you're drunk!

Hoping to meet her future husband at McFadden's,

Ivy