Archives for July 2014

How To Date Therapists

therapistHe knows you better than any man you ever dated. How could you not experience some transference? Ooh, that comfy couch, soft lighting, and the smell of mahogany. Plus, he’s not going to be poking and guessing; he’ll be asking, “How does that make you feel?”

I don’t care what kind of oath Dr. Feelgood took, either. He, at some level, at one time or another definitely fantasizes about bending you over, and treating like the dirty whore you think you are. No harm in it, actually. It makes the sessions spicier.

Come on. You’re telling him (or her … oh, my) your darkest desires. You may be ten years into a marriage with a clueless bed warmer. The doc has it all scribbled on his legal pad. Then, after you leave, he tells his dictation machine how much of a lovely mess you are.

Well, there are some technical difficulties involved in dating your therapist. Unethical? Absolutely. Hot? Fuck, yes. I say they balance each other out, so if you got the itch, go for it. The question is, how does one broach the subject while riding the leather horse? While answering those probing questions, take some notes from Sharon Stone (the 1992 version). Talk sexy. Squirm a bit. Curl your toes. Touch yourself. Describe, in detail, the fantasy tryst you’d have with a man who, oddly enough, resembles the guy next to you, peering over his reading glasses.

Unless he’s a total freak, he’ll be able to resist pouncing on you in his office. Take things to the edge there, but don’t jump. Next, you’ll need to do some stalker-ish things. Hang out by his office at the end of his day, and follow him to where he unwinds. After a full day of listening to women talk about how their men won’t go down on them, he’ll need to go down on a tumbler full of Jameson. Wait till he’s halfway through one, then plop down across the bar from him. When he sees you, smile and wink. Let him do the approaching.

He’ll keep the conversation light. Don’t mention therapy at all. He will, eventually. Touch his arm, playfully. Smile, and laugh at his clever wit. Ask him to tell you stories about some of his other patients, while keeping it anonymous. Tell him how smart he is, and how you wish you had a man who truly understood you.

By the time you finish your second libation, he’ll be ready to provide internal massage services. Yay, you! Keep in mind, there are drawbacks. You might do-the-sexy three or four times, then he’s going to begin freaking out, and seeing his therapist, who will tell him to knock it the fuck off. He’ll tell you this. You’ll still do it a few more times, until he totally loses his shit. Then, you’ll need a new therapist. That’s OK. What a great story you’ll have for your girlies!

Heck, you might learn a few things about yourself along the way. He listens to fascinating fantasies all day. Maybe he has a few tricks up his sleeve—things you haven’t considered. It might be nice to have meaningful post-coital discussion while mopping up. You’ll be more grounded for the next non-therapist, to help tolerate the grunting and inattentiveness toward certain erogenous zones, including your dirty mind, you devil.

How To Date Gentlemen

gentleWomen seem to fall into three categories here. They either expect, appreciate, or are uncomfortable when treated like a lady. I’m sure it has something to do with their fathers. No matter. We like what we like, right?

You can tell which type of woman you are by gauging your response when a man holds a door for you. When I open a door and hear, “I can open my own goddamn door,” I expect to be pulling some hair, and slapping some ass later. I also expect a nice western omelet and lightly buttered toast in the morning. When I hear, “Thank you,” I continue to lay on the charm by pulling out her chair, allowing her to order first, and walking her to her door.

Let’s say you’re tired of those butt welts, and would like to target a gentleman. How can you identify one? Simple. If you’re in a bar (a lovely idea), watch how he treats the servers. If there’s lots of “please” and “thank you,” and minimal whining, he could be one. If he sits facing the door, he could be one, or he could be violating his parole. If he keeps his eyes on his date and off his phone and various bar sluts, he could be one.

OK, so how do you approach him? Simple again. Lock eyes with him for two seconds, smile, and look away. More than two seconds is fucking creepy. Don’t. No need to lick your lips or wink. He’ll get the message. Now, these fellows may or may not be the confident type. If he sprints over to you, game on, but don’t be surprised if he lays back. It’s all right. You can approach him. You be the confident one. Walk over, point to his face, and ask, “Is this seat taken?”

Uck, uck, uck! I’m such a kidder!

How about this? Simply walk over and say hi. You can extend your hand, palm down. If he doesn’t stand up, take your hand, and introduce himself, I say move along. If he tries to kiss your hand, he’s overdoing it. Wipe your hand on your skirt and walk away. But, if he is polite as expected, clear the bar skanks, and begin heavy pursuit.

By the end of this encounter, he should use your name when addressing you (hey, he remembered), ask for your number, and booked a first proper date at an establishment you hinted about. He should walk you out to your car, opening all doors along the way. He should wait for you to unlock your car door, then give you a gentle one-arm hug, a peck on the cheek, and ask if you’re OK to drive, before loading you into your car, and wishing you a safe ride home. If he does any of the following, he’s not a gentleman. Lose his number.

  • Chest bumps the bartender.
  • Pees in the bushes.
  • Grabs a six-pack to go without inviting you to partake.
  • Says something corny like, “Peace out, yo.”
  • Attempts to French kiss you.
  • Texts you a selfie during your ride home.

If he behaved properly, you may have a keeper. I’m not suggesting you begin wedding cake tasting, Princess. Slow and steady wins the race. Let those welts on your ass heal, and enjoy your new fellow. Heck, he may even wash his hands before attempting to pluck your pink fiddle.

How To Date Baseball Players

baseballAlthough anyone in decent shape with some hand-eye coordination will hate to be lumped in with softball players, I’m a-lumping. Why? Because they’re similar enough, and I’m lazy. So sue me.

I’ve played some form of baseball for almost 45 years. I should know what it takes to date a man who scratches his balls and spits in public. First, you’d better not have a problem with it. OK, if he spits chew juice into the tub while shaving, he may need to make an adjustment. Second, baseball is nearly as important as sex. Crazy, huh? Well, it’s true. Offer your man a BJ when he’s running late to the game, and he may decline.

You know that fancy peroxide trick you use when spotting? Stock up, because ole scabby-knees is going to dot the hell out of your thousand thread-counts. He’s also going to come home cruddy. You might want to invest in a second hamper before he tosses half the batter’s box on top of your fine blouse.

Baseball players are somewhat secretive. They communicate by giving gestures and are hyper-paranoid about lip reading, so they typically talk through their fingers. You can use this to your advantage. See a shortstop you’d like to try out? Send him a sign. No, don’t do something obvious like nodding while pointing to your vagina. It needs to be stealth. And, don’t shake your fist toward your mouth while sticking your tongue in your cheek. (Yes, we know, that means “blow job.” Duh. How dumb do we look standing here in our high socks and tight white pants? Wait. Don’t answer that.)

Here are some signs you can use:

  1. “Let’s have a drink.” – Extend thumb and pinky, curl in other fingers, wave hand toward him, then put thumb to mouth and tip your head back.
  2. “Are you single?” – Point to left ring finger, make like you’re removing a ring, then toss it over your right shoulder.
  3. “Can we have dinner sometime?” – Make like you’re cutting a steak, insert into mouth, chew, grab the imaginary wine glass by its imaginary stem, have a sip, wink.
  4. “Do you have condoms?” – Reach into your back pocket to fetch your imaginary wallet, open it, smile while you remove a square wrapper, try tearing it open, give up, use your teeth, extend left index finger, pretend you’re rolling it down the shaft.
  5. “What size bat do you swing?” – Well, well, well. You’ve come a long way. Fine. Reach over like you’re selecting an imaginary (probably black) bat from against the wall. Grip it loosely with hands stacked. Put on an imaginary helmet, take your stance, and swing slowly, like it’s a lead pipe. Wipe sweat from your brow. Make like you’re handing him the bat.

Perhaps those are somewhat obvious. Apologies. Look, no one other than another baseball player will be trying to steal the signs, so you’re good. If a different player attempts to tag you, check his stats before you take his high hard one during a squeeze play.

How To Date Disc Jockeys

djYou women certainly can’t help yourselves around popular men, can you? In the past ten years or so—naturally, the years right after I stopped DJing—club disc jockeys have become pseudo celebrities. It doesn’t matter if most are hipster geeks with awful fashion sense and the highly-overrated skill of knowing what people like. It doesn’t matter if they work until 5am, and are rarely seen without obnoxiously large headphones and iPads. Ladies are drawn to crowd leaders.

All right then.

You’re gyrating with your girlies on the dance floor and your eyes meet DJ Diddle Poo. How do you land such a man? First, what not to do.

  • Don’t walk up to the booth and try to get his attention while he’s wicky-wicky-wickying on the ones and twos.
  • Don’t buy him a drink. His are free.
  • Don’t request a song he already played.
  • If you must request a song, don’t say, “You know, that song that goes da dah dum dah da.”
  • Don’t ask if he does Bar Mitzvahs.
  • Don’t fist pump.

The easiest way to hook him is to position yourself on the dance floor at twelve o’clock from his perspective. Face away from him, arch your back, glance back when the mix completes, wink, and give him a thumbs up. Then, let him stew a bit. Avoid club creeps as he’ll be watching you. Hang around some less-attractive women. (Makes you look better.) Repeat these steps three times, then grab pen and paper from the bartender. Write “Text me” then your name, number, and, if you must, go ahead and dot that “i” with a heart, or add a smiley face. You get a pass this one time.

Stand by the booth. Don’t do anything to get his attention, like whistle, throw things, or jumping jacks. That’s annoying. He knows you’re there. Wait for it. When he finally arrives, say, “Hi, I have a request. Thank you.” Hand him the slip, turn, and walk away while giving him a big smile and finger-wiggle wave.

Next, I suggest you begin pounding Red Bull starting around 1am. It will likely be 2:30 or 3:00 before he’s thumping your love bumper. You don’t want to be yawning. He’s used to this. You’re not, unless you’re a bartender or cocktail server, in which case haven’t you learned not to shit where you eat?

There are definitely two sharp edges on the dating-a-DJ sword. He’s going to be tied up most weekend nights, which will be inconvenient when you’re ovulating, and very convenient when he’s on your last nerve. Also, he’s going to host a nightly parade of groupie sluts. Some will be hotter or more desperate than you, but few will have your stamina and smarts to begin coochie blocking near the end of his set.

Enjoy your modern day orchestra conductor, and teach him how to do those fancy two-finger tricks on your button.

How To Date Cheap Men

cheapThere’s a big difference between frugal men and a broke men. Often, frugal (cheap) men are quite well-off; they simply struggle with removing wallets from pockets. If you’re dating Charlie Cheapster, you had better learn to enjoy dinner at four, or buying your own.

There are practical reasons to date the cheap guy. Chances are he loves to shop (and, by “shop” I mean “browse”), and will gladly spend Sunday mornings clipping coupons with you. If you’re worried about merchants or utilities overcharging you, he’ll get to the bottom of it. Also, no need to struggle with that 15% thing when the tab comes; he’ll break it down to pennies.

Naturally, you’ll need to adjust to some of his quirks. The most annoying one will be his tendency to wear clothing until it’s yellowed and worn transparent. Yes, those boxers he wears were white when his mommy bought them, and his socks actually had some elastic before they became ankle warmers. Who gets their shoes resoled nowadays? He does. His excuse for being a walking antique shop: “It’s not old; it’s vintage.”

His car is another sticking point. He’ll constantly remind you that he doesn’t have car payments, as you pick him up at the service station monthly. He’ll probably have a few strips of duct tape holding the dash together, and his cassette player might require a pack of matches to work properly. Don’t open the glove compartment. If you do, three years worth of gas receipts will explode from it onto your lap.

This fellow may be hard to spot on a first date. I’ll give you some clues to look for. If the does any of the following, Sol Bergstein he is.

  • Asks the server if he can get happy hour prices, 30 minutes after happy hour ended.
  • Stares daggers at you if you don’t order well liquor.
  • Utters the question, “What does that come with?”
  • Asks for a doggie bag, and puts everything in it, including your last bite of steak, bread left in the basket, and Equal packets.
  • Interrupts the server when she offers dessert options by saying “Check, please.”
  • Tells you all about the rewards he gets for using his credit card.
  • Orders an ice water after you order a nightcap.

If you’ve targeted Freddie Frugal at the pub, and would like to win his heart, there are certain ways to approach him. He’ll probably be drinking beer from a 24-ounce can. Impress him by splurging for a pair of Coronas. Take it up a notch by saying you’re friends with the bartender. Cheap guys love connected women. Casually suggest a midnight matinee, or late night burritos and a Redbox movie at his place. After he drives you there in his Prius, ignore his three roommates, and that colorful afghan tucked into his sofa. Enjoy the RC Cola he fetches you, along with a fine basket of generic cheese puffs. Just hope and pray he doesn’t recycle his condoms.