The Dating Dossier: Mr. PDA

It happened a few weeks ago at around 1am. I was awake and I was watching Sex and the City. I suddenly wanted to write about relationships. About crazy dates. About first kisses. Then I realized: I've never really dated. If I started chronicling my dates on the blog once a week, I might have 6 weeks' worth of post. Not a dater, people. But there are specific stories I think are funny or deep or that got me thinking in a way I hadn't thought before. And there may or may not be funny stories. I also considered starting to date just so I could blog about it. That's still not off the table. Would I have to disclose that at the beginning of the date?

Since I can't do this all myself, I am holding an open call for dating stories. If you wish to keep your name anonymous, I understand.

Shoot me an email and tell me a story. In the meantime, I share this with you. Picture me sitting in a swanky New York brownstone, with my coffee close by and my cigarette candy on my lips. In cute undies. Or maybe in yoga pants.

What I Don't Want

As women, I think that we are programmed to have a list of what we want. I realized after dating this one guy that I also needed a list of what I didn't want. I was disappointed because on paper, this guy was golden! On paper, we matched up beautifully. He was open with the PDA, called me when he said he would, talked to me on the phone, wanted to know about my day. He did everything that as a woman, I expected and wanted a man to do. It was a beautiful thing.

The first thing that tipped me off? Well, it happened at a basketball game, of all places. Mr. PDA held my hand while we sat together. At least when he could. Because I was into the game and sitting forward, standing up and generally providing my input on the game. In short: I was being a guy. At some point during the game, the ref didn't call a foul he should have. I got up "Come on, man! You didn't see that!" I yelled. The next words that were uttered out of his mouth were the beginning of the end.

"Calm down, it's just a game." Mr. PDA apparently was telling me that I should sit down and what? Watch the game quietly while the crowd burst about me with energy? Telling me to calm down during a sporting event automatically put him on the suspect list. And I realized then, that one of the things I didn't want was a mild mannered man who thought I showed too much emotion at a sporting event.

Want to know what happened next? What did he say? What did he do? You'll have to wait til the next show column post.

Who wants to tell a story next?