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Intense Yoga Guy
You were probably the football star in high school and started doing yoga in order to “pick up hot chicks.” I can certainly understand this, in my single days I spent many a yoga class hoping that the cute boy wearing hot pants in the front row would talk to me after class. But in deciding that yoga was the place you were going to meet the next girl you were going to have lots of sex with but refuse to commit to you forgot one important aspect of yoga, it is not a competition sport. In fact, it is not a sport at all. I promise you Intense Yoga Guy, that all your grunting, straining and flatulence is not winning over any of your fellow yogis. No one is impressed by your perfect triangle pose. In fact, no one would have even noticed it (as yoga is all about self-reflection) had you not made sure that everyone was shooting you dirty looks by making grunts and groans while contorting your body. If you want to impress hot, dumb girls through you athletic prowess I hear a kickball league is the place to do it. Trust me, all the girls in yoga secretly hate you.
Does Not Understand Rejection Guy
You’re an investment banker, or maybe a corporate lawyer. You went to all the top schools and graduated in the top of your class. You’re not bad looking and generally have no problem picking up girls after a night of drinking in Murray Hill or the East Village. However, now you are getting older, you want someone more mature, maybe you even think you’re ready to meet “the one.” So one night after hanging out with your bros you decide to pay a late night visit to one of my friends; using the “We were drinking in your neighborhood and I need a place to crash; the Uptown 6/D/1/C train is not running because of construction.” Never mind, that you can take a cab, you are certain that my much more intelligent than you friend will fall for this. She does not but she does take pity on the drunk mess that you are and gives you her couch. After many attempts at putting the moves on her, all of which are rejected you finally pass out and sneak out in the morning before she wakes up. Forgetting to even thank you her you do manage to send a text that reads, “Let’s hang out soon, we both have a lot of pressure that needs releasing.” Honestly, Does Not Understand Rejection Guy all I can say to you is ew. First of all, your sexual innuendo is not sexy it just sounds gross. Secondly, you are pathetic. She does not want to “relieve any pressure” with you, in fact she probably never did and your frat boy behavior only worked to solidify her disinterest in you. Stick to the young aspiring actresses that wear heels they can’t walk in and are only interested in your money; they will always sleep with you when you show up drunk on their doorstep at 2am.
You are really into MMORPGs/Fantasy Football/Death Metal/Rock Climbing. Whatever it is your interest is pretty endearing at first. In fact on the date I recently witnessed, the girl you were with seemed to find you pretty charming at first. You were both laughing and leaning in toward each other. She was asking questions about your hobby and you were excitedly answering them. But then, things started to go downhill because you would. not. shut. up. about it. You kept droning on and on. Pulling out your phone to show her pictures, or play her songs, or show her your stats. Her eyes glazed over, her laughter became high pitched and fake, she started looking at her watch. But you did not notice any of these signs, you kept talking. You went on about how your guild recently defeated a dragon or how you couldn’t believe such and such quarterback was injured, or how that that one band was touring again or about the one time you climbed that one mountain. She sat there fidgeting uncomfortably at a loss of how to relate or what to say. I saw her attempt several times to change the subject but you managed to effortlessly steer it back toward your most favorite topic. Finally, the bill had been paid and it was time to go. I don’t know what happened after that Clueless Guy but I highly doubt you are going on many second dates. My advice to you is to find a girl who loves MMPRPGs as much as you, or find a way to tone it down a notch. Hey, maybe if you learned to let your dates talk a little bit you might find a new hobby to become equally obsessed with, like knitting or community gardening.
Hey, Awkward Dancers! How are you? Yeah, I’ve been totally busy too. Work has been cray cray. What’s that? You’re sorry you couldn’t make it to that thing last week? No, it’s cool, I didn’t really want to go anyway. I just thought it might be fun to do together. So what are you up to next Monday? You already have plans? Really? For Monday? Oh, that’s right, I forgot you had that friend in town. She’s been staying with you for like a month, no? That’s a really long visit. No, I know, it would be totally weird for me to meet her because of that thing you have about me meeting anyone you know.
Anywho, if you didn’t already have plans, I would say that you and your friend should totally stop by for some Blogologues at Under St. Marks (94 St. Marks Place). There are two shows on Monday, October 24, one at 7 and the other at 9. No, I know you’re not that into theater, but this is going to be pretty cool because these actors are going to perform some posts from your favorite blogs, including The Awkward Dance! Yeah, I don’t know why they chose our blog either, but they did, so you should come!
Oh yeah, and if you do free up any time before then, let me know. I miss your face!
Editor’s Note: We get a surprising number of emails from Awkward Dancers seeking the advice of Fred and Ginger on a variety of dating topics. In this new feature, Ginger and Fred, and possibly even Cactus, will attempt to answer your questions.
Dear Ginger and Fred,
I’ve been dating this guy for a few weeks now. Things are going super well! He’s nice, funny, handsome, and has a great job. My girlfriends all think he’s a great catch. When we get intimate, however, he tends to have a problem with premature ejaculation. Like sometimes, he doesn’t even make it inside of my vagina. Or if he does make it in, he comes in like five seconds, so it’s like we didn’t have sex at all. And then he gets all nervous and sweats and won’t make eye contact with me for the rest of the night. One time, I woke up in the middle of the night and heard him crying a little bit. What does this mean? Is there anything I can do to help?
Unsatisfied from Sacramento, California
This is a tough one because I have absolutely never suffered from this problem. In fact, I have almost the opposite problem in that I last too long. As a youngster, I asked my mom about this. “Why,” I asked, “does sex with girls take so long, Mom?” “Oh Fred,” she answered, “you and your brother come from a long line of stallions, many of whom have won prestigious awards for their sexual endurance. Your father often listens to his iPod when we get intimate.” She then tucked me in for my afternoon nap. As she closed the door to my room, she added that I was also cursed with an impossibly huge penis, and that was also something I would have to deal with.
Anyway, so I’ve never had the same problem your dainty boyfriend seems to have, but I have heard that some guys experience this problem. I don’t know any of those guys, but I’m pretty sure they’re out there. For some, sex is scary. Your boyfriend might have had a bad experience before you and not gotten over it. Or maybe he just really likes you and his nerves get to him. My guess is that he just needs to relax, which will almost definitely come with time (pun intended). If you really do like him, stick it out a little while. If it doesn’t get any better, get creative. You could try reading him statistics from the WNBA, or maybe just watch a WNBA game prior to intercourse. Whatever you do, make sure it involves the WNBA.
Once Fred gets past all his self-aggrandizing he actually (shockingly enough) makes a valid point. After the excitement of sex with a new person wears off his endurance will probably increase. If not, let us know; I have a special herbal tea that when combined with a certain interpretive dance done only on the second full moon of the year while chanting a fertility chant that will clear the problem right up. And if that doesn’t work, well I hope he has some mad oral skills.
P.S. You know Fred, not all girls are impressed by endurance in the bedroom. Every now and then a girl just wants a good “wham, bam, thank you ma’am” love-making session. You should think about that before bragging about your alleged marathon sex abilities.
It appears as though Ginger acquired some wisdom during those long hours of taint massage. I personally am at my wisest after a good animal-taint massage. The animal doesn’t matter. Although I suppose it must be an animal with a taint. Or maybe Ginger sees things a little clearer now that she’s in a very stable, very long distance relationship in which the number of legs in the relationship equals the number of people in the relationship (two). Regardless of how Ginger managed to acquire such insight, she makes several good points in “She’s Just Not That Into You,” which I will attempt to address.
First, Ginger expressed some surprise that guys, even handsome, extraordinarily well-hung guys like myself play the game of “I don’t need to contact you because I’ve got a lot going on in my life” (the name for this game is way too long, so let’s just call it Chicken) (actually, I guess Chicken won’t work due to Ginger’s opposition to all things meat, so we’ll call it Vegan Chicken) (actually, Vegan Chicken is stupid and really gross. I think vegans can eat Falafel, and Falafel is ok sometimes, like if I’m really hungry, or if I’m trying to bed a PETA member, so let’s call the game Falafel). So anyway, Ginger was surprised that large-penised boys play Falafel. I would actually say Falafel is the rule in the bro-community (bromunity), rather than the exception. We tend to play Falafel regardless of if we like the girl or not. If we do like the girl, it makes the game of Falafel a little harder; and if we don’t like the girl, then Falafel is easy. And how do you know whether we like you or not? Well that is the beauty of Falafel — it keeps you ladies on your toes. For what it’s worth, I didn’t realize girls played this game either.
Personally, I’m not into Falafel. It taxes my already limited energy reserves. I’m not a liar, and it’s a huge, huge lie for me to say that I have a lot going on in my life. I have like four friends whom I see way too much. And there are certain things I won’t do with these friends. I won’t go to plays (I broke this rule recently, and it was ok, but I don’t plan on making it a habit). I won’t go to brunch. I won’t rent a movie with them. I might go to a museum, but we can’t pretend that we know each other once we’re in the museum and we can’t stop and get a snack together when our legs get tired. We can go to the park, but only to throw the football or Frisbee and absolutely never for a walk or bike ride. We can go to Phish concerts. And although it makes me tired and renders me Caesar saladless at the Met, I’ve come to view Falafel as a necessary evil. As Omar Little said, “the game’s out there, and it’s play or get played.”
Falafel, however, can only last so long. I think you’re probably right about the Do-Gooder, Ginger — she’s not that into me. Or even if she is into me, I’m not going to be going steady with the Do-Gooder any time soon. If I were a blues man, I would write a song about how the Do-Gooder aint done me no good, and I would call that song The Ballad of a Well-Hung White Boy.
As to whether I want a girlfriend or not, who knows? Dating remains a mystery to me. While Ginger was chasing boys in her twenties, I was in two, very long-term relationships (not at the same time). I went on my first actual date less than a year ago. I was 45 minutes late to that date and sweated the entire time. I’ve gotten a little better since then, but it’s still a work in progress, and I still sweat a lot.
So well-played, Ginger. Once again, you’ve proven to be a formidable co-blogger. But no more naming blog posts after shitty rom-coms. One more stunt like that and it will be your turn to take care of Cactus, who’s gotten surly ever since the weather turned.
It had to happen, how could I write a dating blog and not once have a post that referenced the most famous of all dating tomes?
I learned a lot of new things from Fred’s last post. I learned that he can’t keep a secret. (Seriously Fred? You had to tell the entire world about the goat taint thing? I thought it was obvious that was not something I would want broadcast across the internet.) I also learned somethings about Fred and somethings about men which I will discuss…now.
First, I was surprised to learn that the “I don’t need to contact you because I’ve got a lot going on in my life” game is not the dating world’s version of Solitaire. What I mean is that every single time I have played that game in my life –which is a lot, if it were a sport in high school I would have lettered in it– I assumed that I was playing alone. I thought that whatever guy I was actively not contacting was just not contacting me because…well, this is where it gets tricky. I usually convinced myself at the time that he was not contacting me because he did, in fact, have a lot going on in his life but in my heart of hearts I assumed/knew he wasn’t contacting me because he just wasn’t that into me. To find out that guys too play that game, and I don’t mean just sad loser guys (See, Swingers) but fun, interesting, attractive guys who have something to offer the Ginger’s of this world play this game too, AND sometimes lose (See, the approximately 325 texts Fred sent the Do-Gooder last weekend), was pretty eye-opening.
Which brings up an interesting question. How can we be sure that this is in fact a game for two? In other words, how do you know Fred, that the Do-Gooder is playing the game and isn’t just “not that into you”?
And that leads me to the thing I learned about Fred. I learned that Fred is not really interested in actually finding a girlfriend, which in and of itself is fine but he is acting like he is interested in finding a girlfriend (i.e. going on actual dates with girls he really likes as opposed to his usual Fall routine of taking a different girl to the same apple orchard and on the same hayride every weekend). And therein lies the problem. Now, Awkward Dancers I personally do not know if Fred is or is not looking for a girlfriend. I just know that it appears that he is in the “I am interested in emotional committing myself to people who are not interested in committing themselves to me” phase of his dating life. I am intimately familiar with this phase, I’ve been in it for basically all of my 20s and while it seems I may have exited the phase only time will tell for sure. I suspected that Fred might be in this phase after the Puppy-killer debacle but was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. Now with the Do-Gooder I am fairly certain Fred’s one-sided emotional commitment phase is in full swing.
Fred was very interested in the Puppy-killer (which I know from Awkward Dance staff meetings and not so much from his blogging) and thus was willing to put up with a lot of craziness and strange behavior in the hopes that she would come around, realize she was madly in love with him, and let him lick champagne off her ass on their post Vegas-wedding honeymoon. Now it appears that he is willing to put up with a lot of lukewarmness from the Do-Gooder. But the problem with this Fred, is that they rarely, if ever, come around, at least in my experience. I also know that it is a lonely, difficult phase to be in so the quicker you can move past it the better.
I think that us humans just want to be with other humans, most of us crave closeness, crave it so much that we are willing to accept any imitation of it. Which is an ok thing to do as long as we are honest with ourselves and admit that, that is what we are doing. I don’t know if Fred is being honest with himself or not. Maybe I am completely wrong about the entire thing and he is just out there having fun, doing the Awkward Dance (which is not too dissimilar from the Funky Chicken). I just know that it all sounds similar to experiences I had in the past where I was very into men who were maintaining only a marginal interest in me. Regardless, Fred, you should spend your time with girls who are as excited about seeing you as you are about seeing them. And if a girl you are dating doesn’t swoon at a text that reads, “I miss your face” she is probably just not that into you.
I’m glad you’re back Ginger. What Ginger neglected to tell you is that the silent-yoga-meditation-meatless retreat in Nepal actually turned out to be a recruiting tool for a cult called the Sisters of the Juniper Bush. For a time, Ginger prospered in the cult and rose to the status of cult Massager of the Goat Taint, which is exactly what it sounds like – Ginger was responsible for massaging the cult’s goat’s taint for several hours a day until she could get the goat to hum the theme song to the Saved by the Bell. To the cult-novice, this may seem like a non-distinguished position; however, you must remember that the cult’s symbol was a flaming juniper bush with Lisa Turtle’s face emanating from the flames, and thus the ability to elicit this song was a revered power within the cult. Several weeks into her stint as Massager of the Goat Taint, while the goat was in full hum, he suddenly segued from the Saved by the Bell theme to the theme from Saved by the Bell – The College Years. This was a bad, as the College Years’ theme was the song of a rival cult, the Brothers of the Lilac Bush, whose symbol was College Years’ RA Mike Rogers sniffing a lilac bush.
Ginger was stripped of her title as Massager of the Goat Taint soon after this incident. Unnerved by her demotion and tired of not speaking for two months, Ginger broke her silence and made her case to the fellow cult members about why she should not be demoted. Ginger explained how where she comes from – Brooklyn, NY – the College Years are considered the next logical step to regular Saved by the Bell and that Mike Rogers is considered a sexual icon in parts of East Williamsburg. At the mention of Brooklyn, another cult member said that she was also from Brooklyn, and that she also recalled Mike Rogers being revered as a sex symbol and great RA. Then another agreed, because she was also from Brooklyn. As it turns out, the entire cult happened to be from Brooklyn, and most were just in Nepal so they could have some cool photos to put on Facebook. Relieved that they could speak again and tired of being leered at by the Brothers of the Lilac Bush, the Sisters returned to Brooklyn and are now thinking about starting an urban farm.
Now that we have that cleared up, I want to revisit “Where Are They Now?” and speak a little more about the internet and its awfulness. Both Ginger and I note that social networking makes getting over people difficult, because they’re always present on Facebook and Gchat long after you’ve stopped talking to them. But it also makes it difficult to play the game of dating. I assume you know what I’m talking about, but the game of dating is that thing where you resist the urge to contact the other person in order to create the impression that you’re not as into them as you actually are. I’ve been dating relatively consistently for almost a year now and have yet to find someone whom I want to contact in equal proportion to the amount they want to contact me. Every time I’ve either wanted to contact the other person way more than they’ve wanted to be contacted, or they’ve wanted to contact me way more than I’ve wanted to be contacted. There’s been no happy medium. I suppose that’s what I’m looking for, but I’m also looking for some people I can have sex with on a consistent basis until I find Lady Right and the game makes this extremely hard.
Now what does this have to do with the internet, you ask? The internet makes this game one thousand times more difficult. With my smartphone, I have like seven different ways to contact someone at any given time, and each one of those seven ways is constantly calling out to me to use them, and use them to contact whomever I might be interested in at that moment, even if I know it’s not in my best interest to do so. The voices get louder the more I drink, and that is when bad decisions usually get made.
This happened to me just the other night with the Do-Gooder. As I said before, things have been moving along very slowly with the Do-Gooder, and, although she’s told me she doesn’t like to play games, we are very much in the midst of an intense game of “I don’t need to contact you because I’ve got a lot going on in my life.” It was a Friday night, and as usual I was out drinking with the bros. I knew I would probably not see the Do-Gooder over the weekend because she had family visiting. She had been stressed about the visit, and I knew very well that any dating solicitations I made would only increase her stress levels. I’d been good all week, only forwarding her the occasional link to an animal doing something a person would do.
About mid-way through the night, I saw that she had responded enthusiastically to an email I sent her about a hedgehog, so I decided to send her a nice text hoping that she had fun with her family and that she survived a crazy week. But, me being me and the voices of my devices being particularly amplified, I add the line “Let me know if you want to hang tomorrow or Sunday.” Minus a million points for me. It got worse over the course of the night, Awkward Dancers. My final message of the night, sent at 3 a.m., included the phrase “I miss your face and hope to see you soon,” as well as “Call me if you’re not busy this weekend,” as if my first several reminders that I wanted to hang this weekend weren’t clear enough.
Why do I do things like this? Because I’m an idiot. But it’s the internet that enables my idiocy, and therefore I shall blame it for my current disadvantage in the game with the Do-Gooder. Curse you internet for preventing me from becoming the Mike Rogers-like sex god that I know I can be.