What I wish I had known about dating my freshman year

I came into college a wide eyed, boy crazy freshman. I'm leaving college...a wide eyed, boy crazy senior (give or take a few more gray hairs). To make myself feel better, I'm just going to go ahead and believe that I'm currently better at dating than I was back then. If a time machine is ever invented, I'd like to go back to my first college party and hand myself this list (although I was probably fetal positioned on the bathroom floor of a frat house, and thus unable to read):

1.) The hands down, best place to meet guys in bands is introductory level music classes. You see, every guy in some sort of crappy band mistakenly believes that one semester of Music Theory will catapult his talents beyond those of Dave Grohl (Shut up, Dave Grohl is really good at like...EVERYTHING). However, half way through the semester they will become frustrated at their inability to distinguish a c minor chord from their left testicle... or they will become frustrated that they are being forced to study Tchaikovsky and not the works of Elliot Smith. But if you are looking to snag a cute drummer, this is where they are.

2.) Clubs are not a good place to meet boys. The only thing actually attractive and socially functioning men join are sports and frats. You are not allowed to join these things. You will not find cute, heterosexual men in volunteer organizations, book clubs, lit magazines, Model UN, political groups, or knitting circles. Attractive people don't care about social issues. The one exception to this rule is environmental clubs; these are seething with attractive hipster boys, because they have been told that going green is an important issue. However, be prepared to have all of your dates consist of pointless statistics on greenhouse gases and tasteless vegan meals.

3.) If you meet a guy at the bar and spend the whole night talking and NOT hooking up, this does not necessarily mean you have formed a real connection. He is likely very annoyed by how much you have been talking, but is either too much of a gentleman or too much of a pussy to tell you that he would like you to shut up and go down on him already. 

4.) If your first date is a sushi date, he is a jackass. Jackasses use sushi dates in order seem interesting and exotic, but seeing as sushi is now so popular amongst youngfolk that it is available in dining halls, it is neither interesting nor exotic. Also, sushi dates conveniently cost a lot of money, making you feel like you're supposed to be putting out.

5.) If you give a guy your number, and he texts you every day for a week straight but does not actually ask you to hang out, all he is doing is seeing if you'll respond. So stop responding.

6.) Facebook is not a good way to develop an infatuation with someone. They have likely only read 3 of the books they've listed as favorites, and probably only know three songs by most of the artists they've listed. So while it says he loves Bob Dylan and James Joyce, he more likely loves Chad Kroeger and Dan Brown. Also, no one is nearly as fun as they appear to be in all 1,765 of their pictures. Or as attractive.

7.) If someone of the opposite sex friend requests you, and you have not actually ever spoken to them, they are creepy and trying to bank on the fact that the internet has become an acceptable form of stalking. 

8.) If someone of the opposite sex friend requests you, they want to do you. If they write on your wall, they might actually like you. A private message means they could see themselves marrying you one day.

9.) Study abroad students are sexy people with accents who are fun for a one time make out. Do not fantasize about a torrid affair or long distance relationship with them. They are only sexy people with accents who are fun for a one time make out.

10.) Group dates are annoying, and people only initiate them because they like to feel like they're not the only ones who don't get to go out and pound 18 shots of tequila on Saturday nights.

11.) Every Thursday through Saturday night is like Valentine's Day for single people; people buy you shit, tell you that you're beautiful, and sex is plentiful.

12.) If a guy is dating many people at once, it's because he needs to stick his penis into many people. If a girl is dating many people at once, it's because she needs to be told she is pretty by many people. 

13.) No matter how much anyone tells you that they are sick of playing games, they are not sick of playing games. If you are an honest and straightforward human being towards them, they will immediately tire of you and move onto the next person who fucks with their heads. What they really mean is that they are sick of not winning at games.

14.) You may think you want to date an older guy, but you probably don't. It may be dreamy and sexy the first time you wake up next to each other and he puts on a suit to go to work, but you will be immediately turned off when you take him to a party and he turns to you and asks, "...what's beer pong?"

15.) Speaking of beer pong, if two girls play beer pong against two guys, at least one boy/girl pair will hook up. This is because both sides have just consumed copious amounts of beer, and the girl team has likely been lifting up their shirts the whole time as a form of distraction, resulting in a semi-boner from the boy team. 

16.) You're considered "dating" someone after the 4th date. Alternatively, you're considered "dating" after one real date and 10 half ass dates where you just talk for half an hour then hook up in your dorm room.

17.) You don't need to dress up to go to the library, because you are never, ever going to find a boyfriend at the library. Everyone is busy studying, and even if they are checking you out...they are not going to hit on you. Do you even realize how awkward that would be? Wear sweatpants.

18.) Most (I say MOST) girls don't like sports, and most guys don't really like Gossip Girl. This is just a thing people say to seem different and in tune with the opposite sex. For girls, it is also an excuse to wear slutty tied up jerseys and booty shorts.

19.) If he still makes out with you after you've thrown up, he's either so in love with you that even your vomit is appealing to the senses, or a bottom feeder. 9 times out of 10, it's the latter.

20.) No matter how much you think you know about dating, and no matter how realistic you think you've become...there's always going to be someone who comes along and makes you forget every damned thing you've learned. You will turn to an idiot and allow him to treat you like crap. You will also think it's okay that he forgets your major every time you speak, or doesn't respond to texts before 10 pm. Because he is dreamy.

I might as well just date Jack Daniels

I don’t even know where to start on this one. Largely, I don’t know where to start on this one because I am completely hungover right now. My hypocrisy is only matched by my incoherence. The fact that alcohol is even such an integral part of the dating process that it had to be included in this book is mind boggling. It seems odd that somewhere along the way, people decided that it was a good idea to severely impair your judgment before meeting potential dates. Yet it has become commonplace. People often meet people at bars and parties, where they are drunk. They then go on dates which include cocktails or wine, where they are drunk. They then introduce their significant others to their friends by going out for, you guessed it, some drinks. Doesn’t anyone do good old fashioned cocaine anymore?

Alcohol was able to become the cornerstone of dating largely because, in moderation, it would actually be a fine idea. People are shy and fumbling when they first encounter someone whose sex organs they would like to touch. One or two drinks makes people less reserved, more talkative, and more open. But this is America, the land where you can never have too much of a good thing. Stores like Sam’s Club and Costco thrive because people absolutely need to buy 5 gallon drums of hummus and mayonnaise. When people realized one or two drinks could help the dating process, they fallaciously reasoned that 6 or 7 would help even more.

Well I just want to break it down for you. You’re dumb when you’re drunk. When you’re drunk, $30 worth of Taco Bell is a really good idea. Translate this to mating decisions, and your potential partner is the human equivalent of 5 chalupas, 6 crunchwrap supremes, and a bag of cinnamon twists at 4 in the morning. Now my next point. Dating is already hard for you when you are your coherent, intelligent self. People are confusing. Communication gets muddled. Intentions are often unclear. So, really, do you think things are less confusing, muddled, and unclear when you’re drunk? Half of society forgets how to even use proper English when they’re intoxicated (have you read some of those texts you’ve sent at 2 am?) Chances are they’re not going to remember the core communication principles essential for meaningful human interaction.

Now I know what you are thinking. You have probably met a guy, made out, exchanged numbers, and then actually had a blast on your first date. Yes. I have also done this, jerk, it’s not like I live in a cave. But does that actually happen often enough for you to believe meeting someone while severely intoxicated is a foolproof, or even desirable, method? I’m guessing it’s more akin to showing up at an open call for American Idol; It COULD end up in your favor, but is more likely to result in your humiliation. So you can exchange numbers with Johnny Backbar, and maybe you should just to increase your odds. But please admit to yourself first that you actually know nothing about him, and while he could share your love of classical music, he probably listens to Nickelback. 

In and of itself, there is nothing wrong with meeting a potential date at the bar. There isn’t something evil about those four walls that makes everyone in them a poor mate. What is making everyone a poor mate is that they are pounding drinks faster than you can say “I’m afraid to be sober because I’m less interesting that way.” If you start chatting someone up mid martini during happy hour, and the conversation gets awesome, great. Unfortunately, how many times do you actually do that? I’d hate to break it to you, but no healthy relationship has ever begun with a wicked hangover and a discarded plan B box on your nightstand (notice how I don’t say ‘no relationship’...just no healthy relationship).

I have nothing against hangovers or birth control. What I am pissed at society about is the  fact that the main way of meeting dates entails severely impaired judgment. Read that sentence over. Think about how true it is. Think about how it makes absolutely no sense. Now I’m going to restate it: the main way of meeting potential life partners entails you and them having severely impaired judgment. And you wonder why you’ve been going on a lot of first dates where you discover that you and the other person have nothing in common. That is because when you have ingested so much tequila that your grandmother is crying in heaven, you’re not thinking of finding out how smart or witty that person is. All you really make sure is that they’re not a cannibalistic serial killer. Then after you’ve drunkenly hooked up, you check up on their personality. Considering a good 75% of society actually has really terrible personalities, odds are not in your favor, drunkie. 

Not to mention, oh, the beer goggles. I actually believe that beer goggles are a myth. Just because someone is a little blurrier than usual doesn’t mean you’re going to start confusing Nick Nolte for Jude Law. No, what you’re getting are beer standards. One drink into the night, you’re still looking for an attractive doctor who loves Hemingway and eskimo kisses. A few more drinks into the night, and that man still hasn’t shown up (he must be getting tanked at the bar across the street). But wait, you’re still lonely and/or horny! So either smart or attractive has to disappear from your list of standards, and if you’re as shallow as I am, smart is going first. Great, so already your standards have expanded to include drooling morons. Several more drinks into the night, and there are no available idiot hotties to speak of. But you’re drunk, and you’re starting to remember how your dad never loved you enough, and how no one ever holds you anymore. If your old standard of hotness was 9 or higher, it will fall to 7 or higher. 8 will fall to 6 or higher. If you were starting at a 6 to begin with, you should probably just go home at that point (but I know you won’t). The beer standards have kicked in. Pretty soon you won’t even be checking to make sure that they’re not a cannibalistic serial killer. 

Which brings me to my next point. Shouldn’t the dating screening process be, gee I don’t know, an actual process? When you’re drunk, you tend to let just about anyone through the gates. Beer standards let all sorts of things through your, what I am sure is normally very rigorous, screening process . People who are less attractive than you’d like (let’s not be shallow, but you’re not doing an hour of yogalates a day for nothing). People whose personality is not compatible with yours. Even people who wear Ed Hardy trucker hats, and it isn’t even funny at that point, okay? DUI (dating under the influence) is just way too easy, but are the results really worth it in the end? It is like standing outside your local junior high with a pack of cigarettes and Jonas Brothers tickets. Yeah, you’re going to get laid, but it’s probably going to end up in tears, regrets, and maybe some lawsuits. 

And now how do these little romps end up in tears, regrets, and lawsuits? Have you ever heard a song, “Blame it on the Alcohol?” Of course you have, they play it on repeat at your favorite bar. People realized they make bad decisions while intoxicated. But instead of trying to figure out some sort of scenario where they, God forbid, made better decisions, they decided to base an entire culture around the stupid things they do while drunk. It has somehow become highly amusing whenever someone makes a drunken mating fumble, as exemplified by the purported hilarity of hooking up with a fat chick. I’m obviously a big fan of laughing at your mistakes; it’d be far too depressing not to. But at this point we’re just glorifying stupidity, and I feel like Tila Tequila does that enough for all of us. 

But beyond the stupidity, there’s something even worse. Alcohol has also become an excuse to hurt people’s feelings sans regret. People make drunken promises such as, “I’d like to take you out to dinner” or “I’ll give you a call tomorrow” or “It’s actually pretty big you’re just looking at it from a funny angle right now.” When these untruths are revealed, no one faces any consequences. They were under the influence, after all. People can lie, make false promises, and even slap you in the face as long as they have a drink in the other hand. Well last I checked a shitty person was still a shitty person, no matter what quantity of beer they had imbibed. In a society where we have literally made alcohol a “get out of jail free” card, we are facing some dire consequences. If no one is expected or even encouraged to be a kind and decent person, is anyone actually going to be a kind and decent person? 

So congratulations, alcohol. Dating was already filled with confusion, uncertainty, and dishonesty. Nothing like a little liquid idiocy to spruce that right up. 

Do you think Michael Phelps thinks "Hmm, bronze is just as good as gold..." NO. He only wants the best.

Much like Ivy, I have also been going out excessively this summer. Now, during the school year, Ivy and I would only go out every once in a while...and now I remember why. It's because when we go out, bad decisions are made. They usually end well, but the next morning (or that night) ends with one of us, or both of us hovering over the toilet wishing that we were well enough to go to the Pre-Lollapalooza party at the Hilton.

I felt like I needed to write something based on Ivy's last post about dating for labels and not for people. Remember Lunch Date (lame label)? Well, he and I were supposed to meet up on Saturday, and I did not get a text around 11 or 12 as I was informed, but instead received a text at 2 am. Two in the freaking morning. Unfortunately, I was already in a cab headed home crying over losing MIT boy (see, again with the labels). Well in addition to MIT boy, on Monday we were out at our favorite trendy hipster bar when I turn around to find that I was face to face with a C-list celeb from a popular Vh1 dating show. And we all know how I'm a sucker for shitty TV. Well, that night ended with C-lister giving me his number. So basically, in the last few days I met a boy who is a legit rocket scientist from MIT and a guy from Vh1. And there's Lunch Date (who has a lame label) who pseudo stood me up, so naturally, he sucks.

But then, ladies (and gents?), something happened. Lunch Date called Monday. And asked me out for Thursday. And I fear it's too late for him. "Why?" you ask. Because, like Ivy, I'm so caught up in labels and man fads and gimmicks (helloooo, Vh1 star), Lunch Date is boring now. Don't get me wrong, he's a very nice guy but he's got average good looks, is of average intelligence and humor, and has a typical city businessman job. And I no longer like him. He's not bringing anything new to the table and he doesn't put forth any more effort than is typically required to date someone. Ivy asked today if I was even a little excited for the date; I responded, "I'm more excited to watch Garden State for the first time ever."

But here's the thing. I'm not sure if the problem with him is that I'm caught up with the really interesting guys I've met (ok, it has a LITTLE something to do with that). I think what has happened is these guys have shown me that I don't have to just settle for the first nice guy who buys me a meal and a $12 drink. I've discovered that attractive and interesting people DO like me. After the date a while back, I thought I found a great guy- but after some thought, I realized that I was just settling for a fallback boyfriend. He's disposable and easily replaceable (well, maybe not THAT easy, I mean, I'm still single...) I don't want easily replaceable. I want a guy who is one of a kind (God, I can be cliche sometimes). But here's the catch, I can't let it get to my head (which, by the way, my ego is HUGE after this weekend). While I was crying over MIT, Ivy was kind enough to tell me that I could have one of her Yale boy's friends...and at the time I MAY have been a bit emotional and yelled that Yale was only third best, and therefore not good enough for me. I was on the El. In the early afternoon. Oops.

The point here is simple though. Settling for someone who's "decent" is stupid. You won't be happy. If you look for better, you'll get what's better. Now, I'm not going to try to figure out if that's being too shallow or not, but you know what, it's more fun. I macked on a rocket scientist and a C-list celeb within 2 days of each other. Will I see them again? Probably not. But they were sure as heck more fun than an Average Joe.

Planning on making socialite status by 25

Ally

Dancing on tables is the easiest way to be a social climber

I've been going out this summer. A lot. A lot, a lot. And I've been meeting more people than I can keep track of. Rather than refer to any of them by their God given names, Ally and I tend to refer to them by a defining quality...Irish, Lollapalooza guy, Irish Two, Lawyer, Engineer, Italian, Yale...which gets me thinking. Am I going for PEOPLE, or am I going for a label? It seems everyone I give five minutes of my drunken time to has to have some sort of gimmick to them. I'm no longer excited meeting regular guys. I've become sucked into a world of marketing execs, foreigners, and Ivy Leaguers...

Ladies and gentleman, though I adamantly have always insisted that I pride my own depth, I have become the shallowest of all creatures...I am a social climber. Now standards are normal; no one is suggesting someone should want to date a dude who looks like Carrot Top and acts like Flava Flav (or looks like Flava Flav and acts like Carrot Top, for that matter). But this is far beyond looking for compatibility; lately I'm looking for the hottest, the best story, the newest man fad. When did I go from my quest for the sincere to my quest for C-list celebrity status? (I realized this somewhere in between making out with a banker from Naples, and watching Ally grind on an actual C-list celebrity, by the way).

The best I could come up with is this: I've dated some pretty average Joes, and I don't mean this in a bad way. But I usually date mildly attractive guys, who have typical life goals, and wouldn't stand out in an American Eagle ad. And guess what? They've all fucked me over. So if I'm going to get screwed over somehow, can't it be by the amazingly hot marketing exec for Lollapalooza, instead of the barely post pubescent dude from the frat next door? If I'm going to make out with a stranger, why not a dude with a Yale degree instead of a junior college drop out? If you're never going to get past the shallow make out portion, I don't see a point in not getting a little fucking shallow about your selections.

So I'm going to admit something more indulgent and deadly than a deep fried Snickers bar... being shallow is fun. The people are hotter, the stories are funnier, and the tequila is more plentiful. But I'm well aware that like all fun things, there is a drawback. If I'm spending all my time looking for guys with gimmicks, will I miss it when the average Joe love of my life finally shows up? Because maybe he won't have a six figure job, and maybe he won't have free bottle service at his reserved VIP table...but maybe he'll be perfect for me. And I'll be too busy macking on foreign MMA fighters to notice (I'm dead serious). Even when you're a social climber, it can still get lonely at the top.

At least I don't have to bring money to the bar now,

Ivy

Ok, now it's getting ridiculous

I started talking to a boy today while watching Cold War Kids.

He asked for my number.

I found out he's in town until tomorrow.

...He's from Canada.

FML

ally

And the curse is back in full swing...

Remember when I blogged about the fact that almost every guy I've dated/hooked up with moves out of the state...or country on occasion? Well, ladies and gentlemen (ok, fine, just ladies...I know no guys are reading this) it has happened again.

Today, Ivy decided that we needed to get me out of my slump. Don't get me wrong, I've been dating and getting hit on, but I've developed the worst thing you can get while serial dating.....no, not herpes...but standards. So tonight while we were at one of our favorite local bars (I love saying things like that now that I'm legal, by the way) a VERY VERY good looking guy starts dancing with me. We start talking (screaming over "apple bottom jeans") and I asked him where he went to school. He replied, "Boston". Well, seeing as "Boston" is not a school, I asked him which one, and after much hesitation, he replyed "MIT" and then apologized because it was embarrassing and he didn't like telling people. I informed him that being an MIT grad was not embarrassing, but was, in fact impressive (and not to mention the easiest way to get me to go home with someone. You see, two qualities I like in a guy are "really intelligent" and "Gossip Girl cast member"). He then informed me that he was in Chicago for a day. ONE day. As in leaving the following afternoon/night at the latest.

So MIT boy tells me that his friends were going to the next bar, and invited me along. I dragged Ivy with. He and I started dancing again (after HE dragged me back on the dance floor). After a little bit, his less social MIT buddies wanted to leave. So he left. Because he hasn't seen the fellow MITers in over a year. (And lets face it, because he would never see me again anyway...) He thanked me for dancing with him and told me how great it was meeting me.

So here I am sitting at home (even the cabbie asked why I was going home so early) sulking and pondering many things....like why I just set my standards even higher. But also, why I was so intent on going home with MIT even though I knew he was leaving the next day. Why would I want to emotionally attach myself to someone even more? (Ok, I know I'm getting a little ridiculous but really, he was my ideal boy) Well, what I have figured out is this: I'm going about meeting people at bars the wrong way. When I go out, I look for people who I can bring home that night, or see myself with in the future (I like planning ahead) instead of people that I can have fun with at the bar, while I'm out. If I go out and dance with someone for a few hours, I should come home happy that I had a good time with someone, not moping that nothing will come of it (I get to for this one though. MIT grad. I'm allowed to be bitter). It WAS fun dancing with him and it was nice meeting him. So for now, I'm going to go to bed happy that I had a good night and rest up for Lollapalooza tomorrow.

Moving to Boston,

Ally

Actually living generally means less writing.

Due to my lack of actually updating, one would think I have not been getting any action. That would not be the case. The summer can be broken up into a few phases:

1.) Actor guy

2.) High school ex boyfriend

3.) Lawyer guy

4.) Irish guy

5.) Engineer guy

6.) Irish guy the second

...k, a little more than a few. But I will begin with the most important of all the trysts. Irish guy the first:

Since mankind first created a definable system of time, summer has been known the world over for the notoriously short romance. This particular summer, mine came in the form of an adorably shaggy haired Irish lad from across the pond. Emphasis on SHORT, seeing as we actually only spent two nights together...but chemistry or pheromones or perhaps his panty wetting accent took a toll on me. While I’m normally realistic and even cynical, once in a while my heart and sex organs just won’t. shut. up. We stayed up till 9 in the morning two days in a row kissing and cuddling, and I was sure he was the love of my life (or weekend).

Irish lad who, for a drunken moment, I may have fantasized about running away to Dublin with, isn’t calling me. I will admit, I was heartbroken for a good 15 minutes. I stole a pint of State Fair Fudge ice cream from work, and sulked in the back room nursing it. A friend finally dragged me out last night through the promise of fun and cheap beer, and something amazingly serendipitous happened; right behind me while I was in line to do shots of Jack, was a different shaggy haired boy from, you guessed it...Ireland.  I’d seen the ending to this movie before; but there is something amazingly comforting in knowing that there’s always another cute Irish boy just around the corner. I think I will be just fine, but my heart will still drop at the thought of the one who got away every time I dig into a bowl of Lucky Charms. Gosh, I love it when my rational side finally kicks the shit out of my romantic side.

Irish Guy Two who called me a model at the bar (awww, how sweet, I love lies!) did something Irish Guy One could not; he called me back. And he wants to, get this, see me on another occasion! Is this a shameless attempt to carry out the foreign boy summer fling I had all but given up hope on? Yes, yes absolutely. Is it much more awesome to have a back up Irish boy than it is to continue pining over the first one? I don’t think I even need to dignify that with an answer.

If I had to pick the hands down, absolutely best thing about being a young single woman, it would be not having to regularly shave your legs. But the second thing would have to be the fact that life is constantly moving. Yeah, the ride gets bumpy. And sometimes nauseating. But there’s always a new thrill around the corner, a new chance for experience, and a new opportunity for shameless fun. While I love my coupled gf’s, their tales of checking out a new Thai restaurant with the mister can get less than enthralling. They get stability, I get adventure. In a perfect world, we’d all get both, but let’s not be greedy; one or the other is a pretty fair trade.

So instead of using my tongue to lick my wounds, I’ll be using it to open mouth kiss a cute young Irish fellow. (Again). All I know about him as that he has an accent, he likes The Who, and he has an accent. And that’s all I really need to know to get pretty excited. Shameless summer fling with a foreign boy...take two.

Our lives have been as uninteresting as Irishmen in Chicago...

After an EXTREMELY long break, I've decided it is time I return to blogging. Don't worry folks, you haven't missed much. I've been bouncing from bar to bar, (actually legally for once) and from Irish guy to Irish guy. Seriously, Chicago is apparently the new tourist spot for Irish College boys. (Sidebar: You should no longer hook up with a guy solely because he has an Irish accent. It is no longer unique. In fact, the new game is: go into a bar and try to find the only boy from a suburb.)

Anyway, my big news is that I have finally gone on an actual date. Really. Like a sober, before 10 pm, didn't hook up in a stairwell, date. Now, after my 24 hours of bliss while imagining our future together, I came across a problem. Apparently, depending on who I spoke to, my date went either really well, or really bad. Great. And shockingly enough, it depended on if I spoke to a guy or a girl. I've decided to give a play by play of the date followed by the common response.

So, Lunch Date invites me to meet him out to lunch downtown when he would be on break.

(girl response: awww cuuute!! he wants to see you during the day! guy response: lunch dates are bad and mean he's not really into you.)

We enjoyed lunch and nice conversation, and mid-meal, Lunch Date comments about how he doesn't think he really HAS to go back to work the rest of the day. He pays, we leave.

(girl response: omg! he wants to spend time with you. guy response: well, that's a better sign)

As we were walking he asked if I had to get back home, or if I had time to grab a drink. I said I could grab a drink and he proceeded to take me to some place where the drinks cost more than the Forever 21 dress I was wearing. We chat. He pays. We leave.

(girl response: OMG! he's TOTALLY into you. guy response: ohhh. he wants to sleep with you)

Then, as we start walking, he asked if I wanted to go for a walk. We then walk more or less from millennium park-ish to water tower, just chatting.

(girl response: when's the wedding? guy response: he may like you. But he really just wants to sleep with you)

Finally, he suggests that it is time to head back. He asks how I usually get home and I inform him that being the good college student I am, I use my AMAZING u-pass and ride the el. He decides that he is too impatient for the el. He hails a cab and takes me back home. He pays and walks me to my door.

(girl response: he's SUCH a gentleman. seriously, when's the wedding? guy response: that was nice. I wouldn't have done that. Also, he thought he'd get some mid day nookie if he took you home)

Now, take a wild guess as to which commentary I WANT to believe. But, how trustworthy is the guy advice. One piece of information I left out that changed some people's views after the fact was this: Lunch Date is in his mid 20s. As in, not in school and has a real job. But really, how much does that change things? If the guys all think he's just trying to sleep with me, maybe he is. But maybe the girls are right, and lunch dates are no longer a dead end date.

I think the only clear advice I've gotten after this whole thing was from my uncle. He said, "if you can add 'to get you to have sex with him' after any sentence while describing him to me, that's what he was trying to do. Like, he paid for everything...'to get you to have sex with him'. He put you in a cab...'to get you to have sex with him'. He volunteered with sick children in his spare time before that day....'to get you to have sex with him'. See. That didn't work. Anything he did that day was to get you to have sex with him. The end."