The story

I was hoping that last week’s announcement would inspire all of you to bury my inbox with your blog-worthy dating embarrassments. I assume that hasn’t happened because you were busy celebrating Bastille Day. It can’t be that you haven’t been on horrifyingly awkward dates. ‘Cause that just wouldn’t be fair, given the number I’ve suffered through.

While we’re waiting, maybe the blog could be an advice column. Like where you give me advice. Does anyone know how to get my cat to stop pooping on the floor? It’s lucky I have a boyfriend, because otherwise that could be a real moodkiller on dates.

But, more seriously, some of you asked how I met this infamous boyfriend. No, he’s not a speed dater (we met online). In fact, his dating style is pretty much the opposite of speed dating, in which you pack as much conversation and self-promotion into five minutes as you can.  I think we had been dating for about a month before he had done five minutes’ worth of talking. I’m exaggerating, of course, but I do think that silence, now that I’ve observed it, seems like a pretty clever strategy. I blathered on to fill the quiet and was so busy worrying about how ridiculous I sounded that I didn’t have time to judge his hair or shirt-buttoning or any of that other important stuff. I could never pull it off (until they invent some duct tape that looks like lipstick) but some of you naturally quiet types might want to give it a whirl.


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