The Death of a Blog

It has been seven months.  A lot has happened in those seven months.  Enough has happened that I can officially put this blog to bed once and for all.  Whaddya say, fearless readers, to one last post for old times sake?

When I started this blog I knew that it probably wouldn't be in my best interest to put my personal business out there on the internet for all the girls to see.  Most women would not want to be the subject of a date analysis.  I understood that should a woman search for me on Facebook, she would be able to see that I blog about how terrible dating is.  In turn, she would likely be a bit put off.  But I didn't care.  This blog was cathartic.  I wrote for me and for the six people who enjoy reading it.  Obviously, I fell off over the last half of a year for a number of reasons.  At this point I feel comfortable to officially terminate the "dating chronicles".

The reason this blog is dead is because my heart is alive.  In fact, it is so spry that I am compelled to pick up and move across America to be with someone.  There is risk.  There is uncertainty.  Those two things will always be a part of every decision I make.  But when it comes to love, I'm willing to throw caution to the wind.  I hate "what-ifs" and second-guessing myself.  I want to live with as few regrets, if any, as possible.  Not doing this would be an exercise in self-pity and questions for the rest of my life.  I'm not going to do that.  I'm going after something, and I feel good about it.  Very good.

What I do not feel good about is leaving the home I have known for 31 years.  I am a creature of habit.  I appreciate familiarity.  Me and change are not life-long friends.  Funny considering we are buddying up for this great adventure.  This is going to be very different and strange and new.  I wouldn't be doing it if I didn't think it was worth it.

I can't say enough about my friends and family on the east side who over the last three weeks have done nothing but wish me well and bestow their smiles upon me because they support my decision.  I have said many times that I have the best friends in the world.  That has been proven out.  I am tearful as I write this because there are just so many memories I wouldn't trade for anything.  Anything.  Tailgates, nights in D.C., drinking fests, concerts.  You name it, and I have a fond memory of it.  I certainly ache thinking about not being able to continue this wild ride with the greatest network of companions a guy could ask for.  You have put up with my bullshit, bad jokes, lack of athleticism, and love of pop music without questioning whether or not I'm worth spending time with.  I have enjoyed soaking in life with all of you.  If there is one thing I felt growing up in MoCo, it's that I've always felt taken care of.  No matter what could happen there was ALWAYS someone to pick me up when I fell down.  There is no way I can ever thank you all enough for being my safety net.  I will be back to visit often, as I hope you will trek west to come visit me.  I love you all so dearly.  Por vida.

Alas, I have a perfect 10 waiting for me and Portland and I have to go.  Somewhere along the way, dating went right, and now I'm smitten.   I've said it was an easy decision but the hardest thing I've ever done.  Leaps of faith are what life is all about.  This is mine.

Thanks for reading over the course of the last couple of years and of course this final installment.  I'm going to cook something up when I get out to Portland so don't fret.  I gotta stay connected!  By the way her name is Janae (that rhymes), and I hope you all get to meet her.  I'm glad I did.  Once again, thank you my fearless readers.  It's been more than real.  I'll catch up with you on the west side.   Tons of love.

Let's Face It

My god, has it really been a month?  I'm so sorry.  I'm not sure how you carried on without these eloquent musings.  It's you, though, so I'm sure gracefully, seamlessly, perfectly.

Why the long hiatus, Mr. L?  (BTdubs, if I ever hear someone call me Mr. L before I'm a parent/homeowner/neighbor to children/45-year-old, I'm going to be upset).  Let me put it like this:  assume the best.  I did not feel compelled to blog, so that must mean something positive.  That is all I will say about it for now.

And why now?  Well first of all the end of September was hectic as hectic can be, bleeding into an October with a miserable work deadline.  Then I decided it was high time to move yet again!  Seriously, at this point I think I could avoid the FBI since I move around so much.  I'm only a mile down the road but in a good spot that seems to be a great fit.  When you know who you live with, the transition is easier.  Plus I don't have to worry about whether or not I'm using too much A/C or heat.  Oh, and there's a microwave.  So it works out well.  Consider Matt and me the Swag Team Champions.

The bitch with moving is a) the moving and b) getting the logistics sorted out.  One of those logistics is signing up for cable and internet.  To answer your question, no it hadn't already been set up and yes I have to have it so that was one of the first orders of business.  Since I don't have cable right now (won't come in for another week. Siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh) I am distraction-free and enthused to blog to my loyal and terrific audience.

But Dan, you may be asking, how can you blog if you don't have internet?  Turns out we get to steal it from our wondrous neighbors next door.  My computer remembers having already been here!  Holy shit, it's like Lawnmower Man in this joint.  So by the magical glory of discovery and innovation, I post to you today.

Okay, so after that long-winded, meaningless bullshit explanation about nothing, I will divulge what I have learned over the last month:  facial hair is key.  Nay, specifically beards and non-creepy facial hair.  I started growing mine out for Reza's wedding, and at his ceremony I was only about a week in.  It was quite pitiful.  Still, I decided I had already started growing it, why not just keep going?  Little did I expect, through the miserable itchiness that made me want to tear my face off and exchange it for John Travolta's, compliments about how it was "shaping up".  Mind you, the first few compliments were from men.  I always appreciate a good compliment from my broheims, but as I am one to pursue the ladies, it was really their approval I was seeking.  The votes are in.  The new, hairy Dan wins by a landslide.  It only takes one to convince me I'm doing the right thing.  Handfuls?  Dozens?  I'm wondering why I didn't do it sooner.  All this time I've been crying about my approach and the things I say and blah blah blah.  Turns out all I needed were a few whiskers.  If you described me before you'd say things like "nice", "good guy", and "big".  Now the words you are looking for are "rugged", "sexy", and "yummy".

If you have not seen me yet, I will allow for a surprise when you do.  No picture will be posted here.  I have exactly one dissenter to date on the new look.  She is a 70+ year-old client of ours that does not like facial hair none too much.  It's okay though.  I'm gonna chalk that up to her being old school.  The point is that women love a good beard.  Perhaps it's an indicator of true manliness, which I try to prove - mainly to myself - I possess everyday.  Maybe it's just sexy, plain and simple.  I can't explain it, and I can't say that I'll wear it forever.  But that's the beauty of it.  I could always grow it again if I wanted to.  The universe can't hold me back.  Oh yeah, and there's only like two or three grey hairs.  So I might even look younger with it!  Bonus.  Party.  Look its not perfect.  I totally wish it could grow equally on all sides and connect with the mustache part.  Let's not split hairs, though. (get it???????)

With so many men wearing beards and goatees you wouldn't think it would matter how I wear my face.  I've never had one before though.  People aren't used to me wearing it.  I'm noticeable.  Isn't this what the Pick-Up Artist meant when he described "peacocking"?  Genius.

Nuptial Energy

Phew.  Made it through two consecutive wedding weekends.  That's a whole lot of knot-tying.  Both ceremonies were incredible in their own right.  I was truly honored to be part of each one.  In fact I would argue there is no greater honor.  Who needs gold medals and Pulitzer Prizes?  I don't.  I was in weddings supporting my friends.  That has way more cache in society.

(Sidebar:  Coming down off a wedding high is brutal.  You crash and you crash hard.  I had to exercise today just to get some endorphins going.  You're engulfed in a celebratory bubble with people you love for a whole day.  The next day you wake up, reflect, and get upset that it's not still happening.  Blower.  Also, what am I gonna do not that I don't have weddings for a month?  I got so used to having my calendar filled.  Need to find a new high.  Carry on.)

I attended these weddings as a single man.  Obvi.  I learned something these past two weeks while mixing it up in wedding circles sans lover.  First, it is nice to just cut loose and not give a fuck about anything on the dance floor or at the bar.  You don't have to worry about if anyone else is having a good time.  I was having a good time.  Hopefully everyone was feeding off of my animalistic swag.

Second, I love giving toasts.  Despite a few butterflies, it's awesome waxing poetic into those microphones.

Third, and most importantly, when I do attend a wedding with a date, she is going to have to dance.  New rule:  you must dance.  You also must not care what I look like when I'm doing it.  Because I don't care.  You shouldn't either.  The whole spirit of the ceremony is contained in that little area where everybody goes buck wild.  Embrace it.  I do, and it's the best part of the evening.  Don't cut my legs out from under me. After all, I am the life of the party.   Take this picture as evidence.

Yes, that's the garter around my head.

One caveat here:  it's okay if you're not much of a dancer.  If you don't prefer to dance, I suppose I can live with that.  You just have to be okay with me dancing and you sitting by yourself for most of the night.  I understand that some people just aren't into that sort of thing.  I ask that you respect my wishes to make a fool of myself/impress everybody with my killer moves.

Either way I need someone that accepts my desire to cut the rug at a joyous celebration such as a wedding.  Sure, there are Wedding Crasher situations where you can meet some singles and stir it up a bit.  A predetermined date needs to appreciate wedding dancing.  That's just the way it is.

So if you're following I have exactly two stipulations for the next woman I date:
1) I need to be able to drink alcohol with you and not have it turn sloppy and angry
2) You need to dance and/or let me dance at weddings

Where will I ever find such a creature?

How to Be a Pick-Up Artist?

I did another bachelor's weekend last week.  Yes another one.  Can you even keep up with me?  Phew.  I would have written about it last night, but there was a seasoning opening football game with a lot of hype surrounding it that had to be watched.  Or, as I like to call it, a giant waste of time.  No matter.  I am here to present a "pick-up" scenario that surfaced last weekend.

This is literally the mountain we explored.

To start, you should know we were in the mountains of West Virginia where the towns have maybe 600 people residing in them.  There are six of us beefy metropolitan boys invading this quaint community.  Five of us had piercings and tattoos.  Five of us were in a band.  (Hint: clearly I am the odd man out).  We even had minorities among us, which to these people was like seeing a centaur walking down the middle of the street.  We were truly a motley crew.  The townspeople stared at us like we didn't have eyes in our sockets.  Conversely, people also loved talking to our little crew.  As out-of-towners who look different, we were sort of a novelty act.  It made it sort of fun.  All in all, everyone was really kind and accommodating.

Anyway, so we are at a bar that had once been a gas station.  It's pretty much the only late night establishment open in this town called Thomas.  We hang there for a while.  The crowd starts to pick up as the hours pass.  The most beautiful part was that the drinks were all under five dollars.  It was like I had died and gone to heaven.  At that point, you're being begged to drink until you can't see.

One of my buddies, the betrothed, had brought in his pocket a handful of caramels.  He handed me one and said "Go offer this to a lady" or something like that.  It was at a point in the night where my brain was no longer active.  I naturally proceed to drop this candy on the ground.  But still people saw that he had candy and asked if they could have some.  People we didn't know.  It begs the question:  Is a pocketful of candy (besides being a great name for a music album) a strong icebreaker?

Normally when you think of someone giving someone they don't know candy from their pocket, it's a mustachioed pedophile coercing a young child into his windowless van.  In this small town, it seemed to strike a chord with normal members of society.  Think about it.  You have a talking point.  It's interactive.  You engage the other person directly.  It actually sounds like a viable option.  If you take this method into D.C. you might have a different experience.  These people might just be small-town cheerful and accepting.  City girls might have you arrested.  I don't foresee myself going out to a bar with a pocket full of Reese's cups just to generate a conversation with a lady.  Maybe I should and see what happens!

Honestly, I think this option is better than a lot of pick-up methods.  Pick-up lines are clearly Loserville USA.  They are funny though, aren't they?  Buy a girl a drink and she chats with you for one minute and then walks away with a free beverage, which in turn is less money you have in your pocket.  It certainly seems better than the bullshit they were feeding people on VH1's reality show "The Pick-Up Artist".  Just walk up to a group of women and ask them what line a movie is from?  Give me a break.  First of all, I would be disingenuous because knowing movie lines is like riding a bike for me.  I'm a sensei in that department.  Also, girls would continue their conversation with each other and close off their circle.  This candy peace offering might be the way to go.

Look, I realize many women would think what you are handing them is poisonous or some new form of rohypnol.  Like I said before I'm not going to leave for a night out and as I'm walking out the door say, "Oh hold up a sec, I forgot to bring the Rolos."  It is merely a move that seems like it could have a higher success rate than other forms of flirty engagement.  Perhaps girls reading this think it's bogus.  All I know is if a girl walked up to me and wanted to hand me a Fun Size pack of Skittles, we'd be on our third date by the following weekend.

Fun Things To Do On a Holiday Weekend

It's been a while.  I realize it.  Quite frankly, I've been prioritizing my life a bit, and this blog is not as high on the list as you'd like to believe.  Tough to hear, I know.  Also, I'm running out of quality content.  I can always come up with something to write about.  That doesn't mean I should write about it.  Much like this particular post.

Anyway, with the long holiday weekend coming up, I present to you a list of things to do that are simultaneously fun as a single person AND as someone who is boo'd up.  Henceforth we go:

1.)  BBQ

This is the obvious answer.  Between Memorial Day and Labor Day, barbecues are the first organizational tools that come to mind.  "What's everyone doing this weekend?  Barbecuing!"  There is little not to like.  Deliciously seasoned BBQ (which is some of the greatest food on the planet), tons of cold beer, and impossibly fun lawn games such as corn hole, ladder golf, beer pong, frisbee, etc.  You name it.  Barbecues are what make this country great.  'Murica.

SINGLE FUN METER (out of 10):  10

RELATIONSHIP FUN METER: 10

Depending on the barbecue, you are basically guaranteed to have a good time whether you are tied down or not.  Most people I know, including those in relationships, enjoy everything I described above.   It's a perfect way to send summer packing, with or without people you're sleeping with.

2.) The Beach

One final hurrah at the beach for most vacationers.  The weather is still warm.  There is still time to work on the tan.  You get the extra day off so you can recover from immature debauchery.  People still care about how they look, so you can scope the sparse-clothing scene at the shore.  The beach is the ultimate happy place.  You don't have to think that way about Ocean City necessarily.  But there is a beach somewhere on the planet where you can sit in a lounge chair, sip on a cold beverage, and say "I could die here."

SFM:  9

RFM:  8

The beach is always going to be the beach.  It's always going to be difficult to have a bad time.  Depending on personality, a single guy or gal can have the time of their life, running through town like a freight train gobbling up vulnerable sex mates like Cookie Monster.  The singles that are not like that will still probably have fun, despite their lack of bedroom activity, because, once again, they are at the beach.  They are drinking and soaking up rays and not giving a fuck about life.  Could be much worse.

It's a phenomenal weekend with your partner too when you hit the beach.  You're both having a great time.  If you're partner is attractive you can silently puff your chest out and brag that they're with you.  Also, you get automatic, effortless action!  Perfect.  The only downfall is if you're kind of a douche and you are wishing you were still single while you're down there because there are some many potential opportunities for you.  That can sort of put a damper on things.  A lot of Ronnie and Sammie parallels here.


3.) Happy Hours/Day Drinking

Okay, this isn't necessarily strictly a holiday weekend thing, but I feel like it gets ramped up a bit when there is an extra day off of school or work.  Responsibility is squelched a bit longer.  If it's a sunny weekend and your watering hole has an outdoor patio, even better.  Once again, 'Murica.

SFM: 10

RFM: 8

When you're single with nothing to worry about, nothing is better than day drinking.  Especially the older you get.  You pass out earlier so you don't sleep through whatever you have to do the next day.  You can have a ball from afternoon to evening and squeeze all you can out of holiday festivities.  Who needs a vacation when this bar is right here?

When you're in a relationship, still a ball.  It gets a bit dicey though when both people are drunk and the issue of who is supposed to drive home comes up.  Also, if one has to care for the drunken mess the other one is that can be a problem too.  Or if one gets mad at the other for no apparent reason.  Perhaps these are just my experiences.  Overall, I still think couples have a great time when they do a little day drinking.  Forget about the mortgage and have a Blue Moon.


4.)  Weddings

This is an occasional occurrence over holiday weekends.  I have been to several weddings that occur over a three-day break.  It's awesome because you get that extra day to recover from it.  You're already happy that it's a long weekend.  Add to that your excitement for your loved ones' nuptials and it's scrumtralscent feeling no human can handle alone.  You must share it with those in attendance.

SFM:  8

RFM:  9

Single people have no responsibility here and can dance and drink with reckless abandon.  At some point they might be a bit upset that they are solo when love is in the air.  But who knows, maybe they hit it off with another wedding guest and sparks fly.  I realize that doesn't always happen.  When it does, we reach epic status.

In a relationship, a wedding is the bomb.  You always have someone to dance with.  You have something fun to do other than the usual stuff.  If you have kids, you get a night off from taking care of them.  You can just wile (sp?) out.  That is perhaps the best benefit.  You'll probably leave early because you get lamer as you age.  But still, you've had a great time and that's what matters.


See?  Everything going on this weekend should be fun for everybody.  I never rated less than an 8.  Maybe I'm an optimist.  Keep in mind that anything involving alcohol has disaster potential.  That probably goes without saying.  As fun as all this can be, a drunk on a rampage can spoil your splendor in a hurry.  Most even-keeled drinkers don't have that problem.  So enjoy your weekends.  Be safe.  Be merry.  All that shit.

A Costanza Clip

I got nothing, people.  I was at yet another lake house this weekend with the boys.  There's a Redskins preseason game I need to scout and I have a fantasy football draft in less than an hour.  There is literally nothing to talk about at this time.  

Allow me to present you with a classic and relevant Costanza dating moment, just to keep on topic:

DATE ALERT 8/10/13

Holy shit!  Blog content!  Is there a rip in the space-time continuum?  Maybe so.  Either way, the date happened.  Allow me to divulge.

The most interesting thing about this date was that it was a set-up through our office FedEx guy.  Random, huh?  He's been delivering to our office for years, and he couldn't be a nicer guy.  Over time, the delivery guys start to feel like your coworkers.  In many ways, your favorite coworkers because they are only around for mere moments at a time.  So "E" as I call him, pulls me aside one day and asks if I'm single.  Is Jay Z touring with Justin Timberlake, I replied.   He goes on to discuss his sister-in-law, and how she doesn't get out much.  He also mentioned that I wouldn't be disappointed.  There were no expectations on his end nor were there any on mine.  Sounded perfect.  Of course I was willing to contact her for a night out.  Nights out with women occur so infrequently you gotta snag them Calvin Johnson snags 40-yard touchdown passes.

We end up going to a place called Facci, an authentic Italian joint with a silly wine list.  It came highly recommended from people in the know.  (Sidebar:  Totally worth going to if you want a real good Italian meal.  The wine is sort of expensive, but it's worth it.  GREAT date place.)  We post up at the bar.  It wasn't too crowded, which was a plus.  The last thing you want on a first date is yelling over drunk idiots.

We talked a lot about her transition to American living.  See, she is full-blown El Salvadoran.  I don't mean to make that sound like a disease.  She has been here for about six years, and she's still learning English.  For the record, I thought her English was very, very respectable.  She just needs to fine tune it in her opinion.  I could understand everything she was saying and vice versa.  Language was not a problem.  The connection was.  We had a nice time.  She couldn't have been more pleasant.  There just wasn't anything there.  It's not easy to make a connection when you come from two different worlds.  It works sometimes, but not this time.  No biggie.  I'm just going going to need someone to pick up on at least a fraction of the nerdy jokes and crap that I say.  I doubt she would.  Still, I think we were both just glad to get out.

These are the best kind of dates.  The ones where you don't have any expectations are the most comfortable.  I usually get myself so worked up, the damn date ends up being more stressful than it's worth.  This time there was none of that.  I think she felt the same way.  The only thing that caused a bit of uneasiness was that this was a legitimate blind date.  Who goes on blind dates anymore?  It's almost frightening in this day and age.  When I met her I was not put off.  I wasn't sitting down with Charlize Theron in Monster.  That was a victory in and of itself.  Once we got past the initial meeting everything settled down.

After we left and I walked her to her car, I felt a bit rejuvenated.  It had been a while since I'd been out with someone.  Despite the fact that there is no future here (I would guess she would agree), at least the wheels are in motion.

It's about engaging in the process.  It's nice to acquire blog material.  Hell, most of you have been begging for it for some time.  Maybe this will snowball.  Maybe it won't.  It doesn't matter.  It's nice to get out there.  As I read one time it's time stop befriending women and time to start dating them.  I'm paraphrasing, but the principle rings true.

I will tell you this last story if only to illustrate how nothing can go 100% smooth when it involves me.  Right after we sit down, one of the bartenders immediately says, "First date?"  Okay, way to blow up my spot, but no big deal.  He immediately proceeds to address Iris: "You should have seen how nervous he was before you got here."  Really?  Mind your P's and Q's, bro.  First of all, that's not entirely true.  I was maybe a smidge nervous, but let's not imply I was sweating through my polo.  Secondly, this is not what I'm paying you for.  Pour me my drinks and bring me my food.  No one is interested in your observation.  What are we in seventh grade?  Hi, I'm Tact.  Have we met?  Because I'm awesome, I of course took it in stride as did she.  I would have probably made a funny joke about it if I thought she would catch any of my references.  The point is the people around me know that me being out with a woman is an event.  They like to call attention to it even when it is not attention-worthy.  Dating is challenging enough.  I don't need the input of a bunch of third-party jokesters.  Okay, that's all.  I'd still go back there.  The experience was positive enough that I'm not gonna let one jabroni sour it for me.  Maybe on my next date I'll take an Italian girl to a Spanish restaurant.  I can get a full cycle view of cross-culture dating.  Or something like that.  You're right.  Let's not add layers to a date.  Baby steps.