Girl 0: Payment Plans

So.

Let’s talk about who pays.

I have now been on 6 first dates and 1 second date with many more potential ones coming up.

Why does the guy pay?

Why.

WHY.

Will someone please explain this to me?

At first, I didn’t mind. I even somehow subconsciously expected it. Like, sure, yeah, this is a thing, the guy will offer. I always reach for my wallet; I always say I want to “contribute to the cause;” and then inevitably, I give in.

After these aforementioned 7 dates though, I’m starting to have a bit of a bitter financial aftertaste… so, like, if you text me, and I want to text you back. Awesome. Then next time, I’ll pay! But let’s say, I don’t like you. I sat through the date. But for some reason, you liked me… so then you text me. I’m not gonna lie. I’m suddenly in this slightly uncomfortable position because I feel conscious of the fact that you paid.

I think about it… if I had to pay for the date, I would… date less. I would resent people who didn’t text me back if I felt like there was chemistry. I would wonder why I was supposed to pay.

So why should dating be twice as expensive for men as for women? Yes, men are getting paid more (that joke has been made now on 2/7 dates), but this doesn’t feel like the way to get our money back as women? In fact, it feels like maybe it perpetuates a worldview in which men are, ahem, meant to financially provide for women who are meant to carry the men’s sperm to completion and wipe down counters? No?

So, here’s my proposal:

Date 1: We split. NO MATTER WHAT. The only reason we wouldn’t split is… nope. There’s no reason. WE SPLIT BECAUSE WE DO NOT KNOW YET IF WE LIKE EACH OTHER.

Date 2: You can offer to pay if you adore me.

Date 3+: Depends on 10,000 different things, but like… take turns, maybe? Unless you’re making a big gesture.

This is all I have to say on the matter, and for all dates moving forward, I will be insisting on splitting. Deal with it.

Boy 3: The Casual Sparrow

All right.

Boy 3.

I was surprised that you matched to me, Boy 3. You are outside of the type that I typically attract. Slightly bro-ier. Into music. Attorney.

So, I’ve been on two dates at this point, Boy 3… which is still probably fewer dates than you’ve been on ’cause apparently everybody has been on Hinge for years, but I’m feeling seasoned AF.

You and I started texting last week, Boy 3. Actually, you asked me what my plays were about, and I didn’t respond for a day, and you kind of made an edgy quip about it. Something about “keeping your public on their toes” while they wait. I appreciate your honesty. This digital cybersociety is weird, and transparency is awesome. I apologized, told you a little bit about my art, and then I dropped my number. This was a week and a half ago or so, remember? ‘Cause I thought that was normal.

Eek. Now I’m wondering if my dropping my number is making guys think I’m wild? But you know what… maybe I am? Anyway. Since Date 1 with Boy 2 (when in our meta-Hinge conversation he revealed that asking for the girl’s number is a thing) I have given my number to one more guy. Ironically, when I did, he texted immediately and said that he was about to give me his. Haven’t heard from him actually in a hot second, so we’ll see. BUT I DIGRESS.

Boy 3, when you and I moved to text, I gave you shit about vinyl ’cause you were sitting in a pile of records in one of your pictures. I stand by my argument… what the fuck is vinyl? Like, really. If you actually love music, why don’t you listen to it with the best technology available? Like if you want to get somewhere, would you take a horse-drawn carriage instead of a car? You countered that it’s the journey and not the destination and also that vinyl has some uncompressed qualities to it. Ultimately, we compromised, and you asked me to drinks. I explained I was busy for a few days and also sort of sick, so we arranged to meet on a future day, if, as you pithily pointed, neither of us ghosts. To which I responded, plenty of time to ghost! We were sort of in a slightly reckless tit-for-tat DGAF text chain. I liked it.

You checked in once or twice over the course of the next four days. Nothing crazy.

The day of the date you checked in with me about meeting up still. Asked me about my weekend, and I asked you about yours. You made a joke about a music festival at which the audience was too dorky. Like they listened to NPR. I immediately bristled. And I let you know. I’m a dork. I’m listening to NPR right now. You said you did, too. Hmm. Remember when I noted that you were slightly outside my type? You suggested a tapas/wine bar. Ok. Ok. Oy.

During the day there are quips about ghosting. I describe my outfit in case I don’t look like my picture. You respond, “you’re not blonde?” Then you arrive.

Boy 3, you do look like your picture. Thank you.

We talk. I ask about your job. Now. This is a thing I do. I ask about what people do all damn day because… it’s what people do all damn day? You sort of indicate that, eh, it’s a trap, you hate it, and that there’s no need to go down this conversational route. You order a beer; I order sweet, cheap white wine. You say I seem more like a red person. I explain that I am actually neither. I am a sugar person hence the sweet wine. We drink. We struggle a little at the beginning conversationally, jumping away from profession to family background stuff, so we make jokes about the woman sitting next to us who is giggling and sort of crazy. We finally sort of hit our stride with music and vinyl ’cause when I ask you your favorite musicians, you say what genre? Yes. Get specific. That’s fantastic. So we get into old music vs. new music. Turns out you like Jenny Lewis, and I’ve seen Rilo Kiley in concert twice and know the entire album More Adventurous by heart. Now we’re really sort of talking.

I finish my wine, and you pay for it. I offer multiple times to contribute to the cause. You make a joke, “Well, men are getting paid more. Let me.” You pay. So, Boys, is it that you think you have to pay? Are you aware that we can split? Maybe you are, and I’m just new to this. Or is it that paying is meant to socioeconomically indicate that you like me? I’m still not sure. And then you said let’s GTFO and go somewhere else?

Location #2. I guess this date is the most stereotypical, Boy 3. Drinks at Location #1 and then another drink at Location #2. Somehow at Location #2, as tends to happen I imagine, the conversation suddenly turns to meta-Hinging and to major exes ’cause it turns out you have one and I have one. Which you point out is actually more like 3rd date material. After a mutual commiseration about toxic codependent relationships, you ask for the subject to be changed, and you tell me about your new tattoo. A sparrow. I almost say, “There is a special providence in the fall of a sparrow,” but I’m not sure if Hamlet is how you roll. You tell me though that apparently they are an invasive species not native to America. That’s cool.

You finish your beer; you walk me home. You want to hear me talk more about the writing process. I think you kissed me on the cheek when I hugged you goodbye, but I am not sure.

Damn, guys, how do you depart from someone on the first date? I don’t know why people don’t like shaking hands. I love it. It’s intimate but acknowledges the inherent distance. I think I’m a shake-hands or kiss-me kind of person? Like the hugs are strange.

So, Boy 3. I want to thank you.

You took me on a conventional date that somehow I hadn’t had yet. Or rather “conventional.” This is good. I need to learn.
Conversation wasn’t that easy between us, but you were good at asking questions and/or simply changing the subject when you wanted to.
At one point you said you didn’t think you were particularly funny. You’re not particularly funny, but you’re transparent and authentic. I talked about how annoying it is when guys send too many texts pre-actual-meeting but that I understood this was because many women online were just digital unresponsive stones. You countered that you didn’t think this was an online dating thing but that that was a New York City thing. You might be right. People here just don’t respond a lot of the time… or they disappear. And that you don’t have that many friends yet ’cause you’re a recent transplant, and it’s crazy how many times you have to poke someone just to hang out with them. I like that. I like that you’re honest and looking for company.
You live in my neighborhood. Like one block away. Not gonna lie. Compelling…
Ugh it’s so good. Thank you for reminding me. “Not a whit, we defy augury. There is a special providence in the fall of a sparrow. If it be now, ’tis not to come; if it be not to come, it will be now; if it be not now, yet it will come – the readiness is all.” And oddly relevant to love and dating, too, isn’t it?

Boy 3, I don’t know if I would go on another date with you, but I would sleep with you.

UPDATE: I texted you the Hamlet quote for “conversation starters with chicks and your new tattoo.” I felt like that was a nice way of acknowledging the evening without foisting myself. You texted back right away and want to know what my week is like. Hmmm.

Boy 2: The Sweet Walker

Boy 2, I almost didn’t meet you because I was reeling from the aggressively mediocre disappointment of Boy 1. I’m glad I met you though, Boy 2. You’re a really sweet guy.

I actually hearted a picture of you running, so you’re one of the few boys in this machine that I reached out to first in my big initial heart/x-escapade. We proceeded to sort of message on the app about running… half marathons, marathons, training etc. And then about what we both do. And then I dropped my number in. I just send the following message: “btw ########## if that’s easier”

Apparently, I have now learned. This is a thing. If we manage to have a semi-normal conversation in our initial interaction, I’ve just been dropping my number ’cause I don’t want to hang around on this buggy Hinge app forever. Turns out there is a moment when the guy can ask for the girl’s number? Which begs the question that I asked in my Boy 1 post… how much digital-before-human interaction is there? Why are we prolonging the amount of time on Hinge? And then we have to deal with texting? Or is all the texting happening on Hinge and then once the number drops you move straight to arranging the date?

So far, it’s just been me dropping my number casually after a day or two. And if the initial conversation is riveting, I’ll drop it at the end of that convo. The only exception is one guy who actually pulled a me and did what I did. He just dropped his number to me casually at the end of a great first interaction on Hinge. He and I haven’t met yet. I’ll let you know how that goes, too.

So, Boy 2, you were traveling for work ’cause you’re basically in management, and I had bronchitis, so scheduling was all kinds of weird, but you were very good at sort of checking in without excessive texting banter. This week, I’m actually performing a show I wrote that is largely autobiographical. And graphic. Sort of Jenny Slate in Obvious Child and/or Mike Birbiglia style. So I mentioned offhand that I could invite you to that if that wasn’t weird, and you said you didn’t think that was weird. Also, after the (wildly inefficient) week and a half of overly involved texting from (the very misleading) Boy 1 pre-actual-meeting, I was eager to clap eyes ASAP and nip things in the bud if needed.

You came to my graphic autobiographical show.

You said hi to me before, and you were cute. You actually looked like your picture. Thank you.

You waited afterwards while I dealt with my people. You were super gracious about the whole thing, and you loved it, you said. I believed you.

And then we started walking uptown. And you said something very charming. You said, “Well, we’re like on the fifth date now that I’ve seen your show. And by the way, you can ask me anything!”

You carried one of my bags, and we walked all the way from the village up to upper Manhattan. It was pretty wonderful. We stopped for a pee break at one point, and then when we got uptown, we walked into an Eastern European bakery and bought rugelach. So Jew-y. I know. I know. I pulled out my wallet, and you said this was on you though I offered again to “contribute to the cause.” That’s always my line 🙂

You seem pretty date/Hinge savvy. So you were also a fun person to have some meta-Hinge conversations with. I mentioned that I wish there were a button you could push when you first see a person that says either “Yes, pheromones are present” or “Nope, sorry, you’re beautiful, but not for me.” I happen to think that if we’re working with this kind of algorithmic digital stuff, we should get as practical as possible, and chemistry is instant. You countered that there should also be a feedback button about whether or not the profile actually reflects what the person looks like. That would be brilliant. You get to click a button saying: “Yes, s/he looks like this!” or “Nope, not even remotely close!” You commiserated with me about Boy 1 and the awkwardness of inviting someone over to watch something without a specific viewing suggestion… you told me about a date who chose to watch Dallas Buyer’s Club.

But enough meta-Hinging. You also told me about the first time you had sex and the bits you love about your job and your two brothers and a small funny genetic defect you have. Good stuff, Boy 2, good stuff. You mentioned that you’re not a fan of Harry Potter and was that a dealbreaker for me? I was like, nope. Apparently I had sent a text asking if you were on a “muggle schedule” and that made you wonder. I don’t know… I think it’s a funny line? Calling a 9-5 a muggle schedule? It isn’t meant to belie a deep dealbreaking obsession with Harry Potter. ‘Cause I’m not… like I really genuinely wish I could just date people in the AM hours. It would make my life so much easier. And you did give me a little shit about my educational background… and then I said, oh, do you not like intelligent women? So, you know… I guess two can play that game?

We finished our rugelach on a bench, and you asked me about my dietary restrictions… are you thinking of asking me to dinner? And we were near where I lived by then, so you walked me home. You mentioned you’d like to see me again. I also wore the same outfit for the show as I did for our walk, and you asked me what was I going to wear for my next performance. And I said, oh, yes, this is my… and you finished the sentence… “date outfit?” And I said, yep, my director liked it so much I didn’t change for the performance. That made you smile.

Boy 2, I want to thank you.

You texted me every 24 hours or so, but it was basic and simple so we hadn’t built a strange digital relationship before meeting.
You met me on my turf, graciously and kindly. You waited for me to deal with my audience, and then you literally walked almost the entire length of Manhattan with me. I mean… way to just play by ear.
You can hold a conversation. We talked the entire time. At one point when we were debating the do-we-sit-down-at-a-bar question, you said, “Well, what I don’t want to do is sit across from each other and hold an interview.” I salute you, Boy 2.
You’re deeply sweet and cool. I feel like you are an expert at Dates 1-8. I am curious about how you are beyond that? And I wonder if you’re just a very sweet dater? Like I’m not sure you’ll contact me? But I’ve learned now that I’m bad at predicting this (see: UPDATE on Boy 1).
You paid for my rugelach. You didn’t have to. I appreciated it though. It felt like a sweet gesture. And you didn’t make a physical move either which felt respectful.

Boy 2, I would go on another date with you.

UPDATE: You have texted me. You want to see me before you leave for the weekend. Date 2 has been arranged.