Learn from not quite perfect dating experiences Thursday, Jul 15 2010 

Hormones, hormones, hormones.  I blame them.  They are the reason we end up in the most awkward situations with the opposite sex, i.e. the date.  The buildup of hormones explains why we feel butterflies in our stomach as well as other feelings that may be too sexually inappropriate for a College Lifestyles blog.  Regardless to the chemical stimulation, we are in college and it is fun and natural for guys to want to be around girls and vise versa.

Hormones, hormones, hormones! This is how we work it.

Pleased to meet you, I am a stuttering estrogen maxed out goof who has a dating experience to make your head spin.  My father is only sane because I inform him that I am joining the convent or going to play bingo every time I walk out the door with a different guy.  From the amateur moments where I learned how to kiss, to the serious and great relationships I have had, there are a few hysterical dates that stand out enough to either make me blush or to simply laugh to tears- but who are we kidding, that could be the progesterone.

Carly rolls her eyes as she recollects dating silly guys.

Let’s start with the, “The Creepy Cuddler.”

The summer before going into college, my family and I lived on Fire Island.  Picture a small beach town with sidewalk roads made only for bicycles and a quaint row of restaurants and bars ready to fulfill ultimate partying and grooving.  It was in the beauty of Fire Island that I met an outgoing and fun blue-eyed guy who we will call, “Elvis,” due to his side burns.

Elvis and I played volleyball at the beach, boogie boarded in the ocean waves, and drank Snapple Apple from the endless supply in his mini fridge since his father worked for Snapple.  Perhaps because we were so active and usually hanging out with groups of friends, I was blind to his ultra- sensitive side.  Don’t get me wrong, emotions are perfectly normal.  But there is a fine line between honest feelings and nauseating behavior.  Nothing prepared me for Elvis’s little cherished hobby.

As he nestled his head on my shoulder to confess his bedtime secret, he shared that he most enjoys snuggling with his mother.  Take into account that Elvis was 19 years old when he confided this information.  This is when I made my speedy escape, and found something more entertaining to do than cuddling.  Even bingo won that time.

Next is, “The date heard around the world.”

Also a summer fling, I met this lumber jack-esque guy through friends.  For kicks, we shall refer to him as Paul Bunyan.  He had a very dry sense of humor and crunched his posture to fit in his too-small car.  The two of us were complete opposites.  When we went bowling he attentively kept score on the computer screen while I moon walked to the lane to inevitably toss the bowling ball into the gutter.  However my friends liked that he could balance my silly behavior.  It turned out that Mr. Bunyan could be even sillier than me.

Paul Bunyan and his Babe. Hopefully the ox will be a better companion than me.

Just as I had mentioned that hormones exist, so does flatulence.  Everyone has a different opinion of what one has the liberty to call, “farting.”  When Dr. Oz said on Oprah that it was “unhealthy” to hold in a fart, men around the world suddenly felt in style.  Since Oprah has not yet farted publicly on the show or among her many media outlets, I can assume that it is still not safe for women to openly fart.  Personally, I let it go with my brothers who will only laugh and then outdo me.  (Seriously, like on command powers.)  Besides not eating corn before a date, it is also unacceptable to fart on a date.  Poor Paul Bunyan was not informed.

As I was making us drinks in my kitchen, he farted.  Loudly.

The aftermath moment was silent and stunning.  But then I just burst into laughter.

He was stone cold and completely ignored his gas blowing stunt.

Rather than join me, he waited for me to contain myself and then proceeded on with, “How about them Yankee’s” conversation.  If he had laughed it off, everything would have been fine.  Instead, all I could hear was that fart when I looked at him and the fling could no longer go on.  Poof! (No pun intended.)

In college and out of college we will deal with weird secrets, farting, and hormones.  The bottom line is that nobody is perfect.  Within this realm of our youth, we are trying to figure out so much, let alone about the opposite sex.  Many of us are enrolled in summer courses to better advance our education to do the best we can upon completion of college.  Yet we still make minute decisions like whether or not we would like to continue dating someone.  Go with your gut instinct.  (But not necessarily his gut).  Realize that we are in the same shoes as classy college co-eds and are hoping to enjoy ourselves today.  Date or not, it is important to acknowledge people for what you like about them.  Standards are fine, but there is no point in focusing on them until truly knowing a person.  Have fun, smile big, and be yourself.

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Nails on a chalkboard Monday, Jan 25 2010 

Pussies.  From their claws and their fangs to their mysterious prowl, I hate cats.  Who knew this fear would follow me to college?

In the beginning of my freshman year, I dated a macho man with a ‘closet grandma disorder.’  He and his three cats welcomed me to his territory.  Upon entering his apartment for the first time and stiffening like a board as cats purred around my legs like sharks circling a victim, I contemplated dealing with the felines to continue dating Catman.  After about two seconds of torture, I came up with a solution: next.

Call me shallow, but I do not withstand certain qualities and behaviors.  I am not saying that I expect a stepford companion, however there are intolerable pet peeves that drive me crazy.

    1. The technique to eating spaghetti and meatballs.  Men who cut their spaghetti rather than twirling their spoon are criminal.  Even the dog from, “The Lady and the Tramp,” understands this phenomenon.
    2. Pinky Rings and Ponytails.  Pinky rings are completely unnecessary and were obviously bought in a 25 cent machine.  Do not trust a man with a pinky ring.  Pony tails are for sock-hops and horses.
    3. The goo-goo ga-ga of a baby voice.  Unless his lungs are filled with helium, there is no excuse.
    4. If he wears a smaller pants size than me.  I do not want to know that I can kick his butt.  Find a nice spot somewhere between Peewee Herman and Arnold Schwarzenegger.
    5. The blue ribbon champion.  A guy who lists his every achievement and trophy won only leaves me to assume one thing: small penis.
    6. Driving a yellow car.  Normally at this age we are lucky to get a box on wheels, however a yellow car screams obnoxious.  Taxi driver, what’s my fare?
    7. One’s appreciation of the most delicious and mesmerizing spice: garlic.  If he doesn’t like garlic, he will never be able to share a meal with me.  I would starve.
    8. Leg shakers and pen chewers.  I am easily distracted by someone bobbing their leg up and down and lose track of the conversation.  Nervous habit verses where that pen has been before is an unsanitary balance.  Your mouth, not mine.
    9. Kindergarten etiquette.  A bow and a pinky up is unnecessary, however the simplicity of opening doors and using a napkin rather than a sleeve does not hurt.
    10. High maintenance.  Please do not take longer than me to get ready.

Nancy’s nit picks:

    1. Due to a traumatic sixth grade experience of slow dancing with a boy in need of stilts, height is of crucial importance.  He must be tall to go on this ride.
    2. If he pulls the, “I am really smart, but I just do not try,” line, than he may please remove himself from my presence.  Security?
    3. Youtube Kelly would agree with me that his shoes matter.  If I look down and see the white slip on’s that my grandmother does her water-walking in than he might as well stop trying.  The Adidas with the three white stripes down the side do not fly either.
    4. In good fun, I expect to be matched after I dish him out.  Curling up into the fetal position after a harmless joke simply declares him the weakest link, goodbye.
    5. Trying too hard to impress me and listing your stats like a pro athlete will only convince me that I will most likely find you taking my order in a Burger King.  And no, thank you, I do not want fries with that.