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Dating Blogger Charles: Entry 1

Why are guys so gruesome and uncreative in their attempts to pick you up? So many different classifications and phyla of the “Male Pickup” exist. There are the “Hey, sexy” followed by a grope of your ass guys; those are … Read More

By / September 14, 2006

Why are guys so gruesome and uncreative in their attempts to pick you up? So many different classifications and phyla of the “Male Pickup” exist. There are the “Hey, sexy” followed by a grope of your ass guys; those are the worst. Then, there are the terrible pick artists; something to the effect of, “Did it hurt when you fell out of heaven?” (Luckily those are few and far between in New York). The guys who just stare at you and every time you look over they smile or wink – these men can often come off as creepy and if not one wonders why their balls have not dropped yet, especially at their age. Most people reading this have encountered one or more of these classifications if not many, or a combination of all three. The problem with the New York pick up scene is that, largely, it lacks a wholesome and truthful interest in people. When did dating become a game rather than a quest? Maybe it has something to do with the rise of reality television or the rebirth of the devil or something. The more I have thought about the falsities of dating the more I realize that I, too, am a culprit of the very thing I find repugnant. It is odd how often times the things we find bizarrely unlike ourselves somehow infiltrate our core, despite our best effort to keep them out. I know how to get free drinks all night. I know how to have everyone in the bar eating out of my hand. I know how to use the many tools – I call them masks – to get what I am after in the dark, dirty, dating world. Playing coy, aloof, infatuated, shy, angelic… all tools to propel me toward my end goal. It has occurred to me recently that these many masks, while fun, are also detrimental to the ultimate point of dating: the long-term relationship. Yes people, I may be called old fashioned or even nauseatingly optimistic, but what’s point of dating if not to enter into relationships? The masks we wear make it impossible for us to forge forward in successful relationships. If you meet someone in a bar or club, you are not meeting the person you think you are; you are meeting the mask. The lighting is dim, the alcohol is flowing, and the flirtatious nature of the setting changes the interactions to be had. When the night of the first date comes – let’s say dinner and a movie – often a completely different person than the one you thought you were going out with shows up. Those dates rarely go as planned (if well at all) and are solely responsible for creating the serial dating scene that is all too familiar to the NYC single community. Being great at dating is a great skill to have, but, in no way sets up knowledge for taking the next step. Recently, I have experimented with not wearing a mask in bars. I will bring a journal to write in and observe what other people are doing, laugh to myself about the many masks I can observe, and make inferences about what will happen in the futures of people who I see pair off. I am invisible to these people as I sit in my corner and write. Perhaps, the one guy that notices me and is intrigued by what I am doing will be the date of all dates. Miracle of miracles: Labor Day Monday, I am in a bar with a lesbian friend of mine, whom I’ll call Fionna. Fionna asks me to go with her to this Labor Day extravaganza so she can hopefully find the woman of her dreams. She spends an hour getting ready, whereas it takes me ten minutes. We enter the club and I see the moment her first mask goes on. Within twenty minutes she is surrounded by four women and I go to sit on a lounger by myself with my journal. Writing, observing, and of course, laughing to myself. After an hour, my observations lead me to come across a man sitting by himself, deep in thought, also observing his surroundings. I walk over to him introduced myself and ask if he is alone. He is. I sit down and we begin to chat about business, religion, life, and the rise of reality television (or was it the rebirth of the devil)? We have an amazing conversation before he tells me that after meeting me he wishes he didn’t have a serious boyfriend. I assure him he doesn’t mean what he is saying and I insist that we (he, his boyfriend and I) should be great friends. At last I had an exchange of truth in a bar setting. He had a boyfriend, okay. But, I think it serves to prove my point about being in your own space, and taking off the mask. Masks are for people who need to hide. Catch me if you can.

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