Dating in a small town can be pretty miserable. Since I moved here from the East Coast six months ago, it’s been difficult to meet new people. But this doesn’t have to be a bad thing. Everybody knows everybody else, and you can use this to avoid dating disasters before they even happen. Example: I once dated a bisexual spirit guide I met at a bar. Had I met him in Santa Fe, I could have avoided a drawer full of healing crystals and an awkward conversation about whether I’d ever be into using a strap-on by having a quick conversation with a mutual friend.
While it’s OK to creep on the sly, it’s not OK to bring up some obscure fact that you only know because you Googled your date. If you “happen” to run into him at a bar, don’t mention that you knew he’d be there. I get it: You go to Marble Brewery for the views, not the brews, but the sexy bartenders WILL catch on, and you don’t want to be that person. Why? Because stalkers are creepy. I had a stalker once in high school. After a particularly egregious period of stalking, my mother (who will never live this down) forced me to go on a date with him. He took me to a picnic in a park next to a cemetery. I was pretty sure he was going to murder me.
Exception: If you are extremely hot, stalking is sometimes OK. A god of a man once left me a love letter on a bench at this street corner where I used to hang out. Yes, I realize how ridiculous that sounds. But, because this guy was a stud, it was creative, not creepy, and it may have led to some serious dry humping and ferocious make outs.
Do induce boners:
At a bare minimum, your date will appreciate it if you put on deodorant. He or she may also find you less creepy when you accidentally reference his or her best friend’s blog. I lost my lady boner for my now ex-boyfriend when he stopped by a gas station to use the community deodorant available for rent at the counter. My lady schwazy got even softer when he decided to test out his theory that hair would self-cleanse after a matter of months without shampoo. Please, don’t make your dates run their fingers through your greasy mane. As an added incentive to wash your hair, boner-inducing qualities can mask your other flaws. Case in point: I once dated an incredibly stupid semi-professional sportsman with rock-hard abs. For the four months we were together, he never used a word longer than four letters, insisted on burping in my mouth every time we kissed and never wore a shirt. I only noticed his abs.
Don’t actually sport a boner:
If you wear dress pants on a date and sport a massive hard-on, your date will think you are a rapist. If this is a problem, wear a baggy T-shirt and jeans. I don’t care whether it’s a suspicious bulge or a full-on inopportune chub; it’s bothersome, and it’s got to go. Also, please never wink and use your obvious stiffy as a segue for discussing the size of your penis.
Do be superficial:
Everyone has some sort of checklist. Mine usually consists of penis and ability to breathe. Some people are more superficial than that. In an effort to avoid awkward meetings with former lovers, I’ve added a few requirements to my list since my move. Take my word for it: You do not want to run into someone days after you find yourself soaking wet, naked and squeezing your way out of his bathroom window in the middle of December. This happened to me after I attended a Christmas party with an extremely Republican, occasional news commentator with a fetish for shampooing women’s hair. I went along with it until things got weird, and then I slyly booked it out of his bathroom window. You know you need a checklist here in Santa Fe if I ran into this guy in a city three times its size. Even if you aren’t as big of a ho-ho-ho-bag as I am, I still recommend using a checklist. Mine now includes “non-Republican.”
Don’t ignore my advice. You’re welcome.
*The author’s name has been changed to protect her reputation.
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