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Monday, April 21, 2025 |
Dating Tips  
Date: Sent Thursday, July 8, 1999
Category: None | Rating: 2.03/5 (109 votes)
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DATING TIPS
by Jim Rosenberg, October 5, 1994
I'm so glad I'm not dating. If I ever dated you, I know you're glad, too. My dating style was to sweat a lot, apologize for my car being dirty, and
continually push my glasses up my nose in a compulsive manner. This became a vicious cycle as the perspiration rushing from my head sent my glasses
sailing into the mashed potatoes with a squishy thud. If I hadn't met my wife in a work context, I'm sure I would still be at home on the weekends
working on my needlepoint. I say this to let single people know how much I empathize with their agony.
Every unmarried person in the universe agrees on one thing: hanging out in bars is the worst way to meet a potential mate. This leaves me wondering
why The Village Tavern looks like a shark tank every night after work. After a certain point, I suppose, romance isn't so much tenderness as
willingness. The "I hate the bar scene" truism has launched a million entrepreneurial substitutes for dating. These "Personal Introduction Services"
claim to bring greater intimacy to the mating ritual. All of them, however, are fundamentally flawed. They are better at selecting a date than a
mate. As a service to my readers, many of whom are single, I have established my own Dating Service designed specifically to help women find a
suitable partner. We do more than collect a group of eligible men -- we do the legwork that's necessary to determine if the men are marriage
material.
The 3:00 a.m. Feeding Book. In your mind, you hold a mental picture of your partner: bare-chested, clad only in rugged jeans, still wet from a
shower, smiling broadly. Try this one on: bad breath, bed hair, black socks, eye gunk, spit-up, nodding in and out of consciousness. The latter is
how your mate is going to look when he's getting up to feed the baby in the middle of the night. You better find a way to see it and still become
sexually excited by that person at a later date. That's why we send our operatives to roust men out of bed in the middle of the night and take candid
shots.
The Fluosphere. No matter how nineties you think your boyfriend is, something very fifties happens to a married man who gets sick. That something is
quite simple: he wants you to be his mommy. It's a shock the first time your big strong husband starts sniveling for some pudding and a fluffier
pillow. That's why we developed The Fluosphere. Every virus known to man is circulated throughout the sealed environment of The Fluosphere. We lock
the man up for one week. As the flu overtakes him, you can observe his behavior and decide for yourself whether it is bearable. It's also a good
opportunity to think about whether you want to have children other than your husband.
The LaToya Jackson Test. "Are there any skeletons in my man's closet?" we are often asked. Well, our private investigators aren't always able to dig
up every piece of dirt. That's why we developed a foolproof test: we inform LaToya Jackson that a substantial monetary reward is being offered to
anyone providing information on Mr. X. If she is unable to come up with something: marry this man.
Questionnaire Lie Detector. As with traditional dating services, the subject is asked to fill out a lengthy questionnaire describing himself and his
personal preferences. All lies, of course. Several months later we hire a confederate to ask the man roughly the same questions in a bar. We
compare the answers to determine which men are the biggest liars and along what lines. (Test Answer: "I am a professional with an income between
$50,000 and $75,000; Bar Answer: "I just bought the 'No Money Down' tapes and plan to buy a house with my Discover Card"). It's a given that your
eventual mate will be a big liar with unspeakably horrible problems and unimaginable fetishes. This will just give you some advance warning what they
are.
The Hidden Kitchen Table Microphone. Our elite team of former CIA agents plants a microphone under the kitchen table of the subject. For one month,
recordings are made at each meal. The resulting tapes catch every vulgar grunt, moan, and sigh that is an integral part of male feeding process. Ask
yourself: do you really want to hook up with the sort of knuckle-scraping brute who could make such a horrendous din as part of his eating ritual?
Does his cute haircut really outweigh that awful clamor of slurping and meat-ripping?
Momcam. We place a tiny camera in a brooch on the blouse of the subject's mother and tape all interactions. Watch carefully, girls. Forget about the
flowers and all the other scams currently in operation. If he's decent to his Mom, you're probably okay. If the camera catches him saying things
like "Cindy's okay, but no one could ever take the place of my Mummsy" you've got trouble with a capital T.
Nickname Genealogy. Our researchers prepare a complete history of every nickname ever used to describe the man. The results are displayed on a
timeline with each person's name. This is an excellent way to determine the true suitability of a mate. Bad: "Stinky," "Lumpy," "Booger." Worse:
"Casanova," "Octopus," "Herpe." Worst: "Slick Willie."
Carbon Underwear Dating. Our staff geologists perform precise carbon dating of underwear samples taken at end of long week. If results show
underwear is pre-Jurassic, go on the next cute guy.
The more I researched this topic, the more I became certain of one thing: singles bars are a great way to choose a mate. You see people at their
absolute worst -- motivated by greed, driven by selfishness, indulgent of their own coarse physical needs, and unable to overcome the weaknesses that
control them. Romantic? No way. Good data? You bet.
From Jim's web page at http://www.thewire.org/jim/dating.htm
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