Reviewing Past Relationships and What Went Wrong (Me?)

The following is a revised version of the text, with improvements to grammar, flow, and clarity.

The Mormon Conundrum

I'll start by saying that Mormons are, in many ways, much better people than I am. They're kind, polite, don't drink, and are generally nice to others. Sure, they have the stigma of "magic underwear," but honestly, if you had to be surrounded by a group of people different from yourself, you could do considerably worse than the Mormon population.

That said, they can be a bit of a drag. When I say "drag," I mean it in the nicest way possible. They don't drink, gamble, swear, or have premarital sex—all things I happen to enjoy. This isn't a problem until you realize you live in a city that has more Mormon residents per capita than Salt Lake City, Utah. For someone like me, who lacks a moral compass and a general sense of right and wrong, the fit just isn't there.

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A Dating Retrospective

So, how does this apply to my dating life? I've had a lot of time on my hands (see above), so I decided to map out my main relationships on a scale of 1 to 10. The scale is as follows: a 1 is someone who is completely and utterly "marriage material" but boring as hell, while a 10 is a crazy train who is a ton of fun but would never meet my mom.

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The Rankings

Destiny: 1/10 It's unfortunate that I was married to her for three years. She wasn't mean, but she also wasn't nice or affectionate. Sex was a chore, as was being married to me. She's married with a kid now, so I assume someone managed to get her drunk enough to make it work once.

Trey: 9/10 Damn, Trey was hot. I'm not, but she somehow decided to sleep with me. She was a dangerous combination of "being hot, not knowing how to have sex, and hating her life." She was also kind of mean, demanding, and not afraid to express how unhappy she was at any given moment. Did I mention she was so hot?

Barb: 4/10 Barb also hated me, and to complicate things, she disclosed an STD early on. That doesn't make her a bad person, though. Honestly, this was soon after my divorce, and I was a complete mess, so I didn't handle it well. She was a nice person. I just wish she hadn't told me about her STD over breadsticks at Olive Garden.

Heidi: 5/10 I never really figured Heidi out. She had kids and liked to have sex with me—and her ex-husband. She was beautiful and fun and continually made it clear that we were just a "thing." I think I was just a thing to her, which sounds nice in theory. I got attached, she bailed, and then she'd pop back in whenever she wanted sex again. After six short months of meaningless sex, I half-heartedly put an end to it. (See? I'm a terrible person.)

Kristen: 6/10 I liked Kristen, but she was really, really dumb—not in a "needs to experience life" kind of way, but more like a "she ate paint chips as a kid" way. Kristen adored me but was too similar to my ex-wife. She didn't have an original thought in her head, did what her parents told her well into her late 20s, and had no ambition. But she was fun, and if I weren't me, it might have worked. But I'm me, and it didn't. She married a 300-pound truck driver and seems happy, and that's not a joke—it's a fact.

Jessica: 8/10 Things got intense fast with Jessica, which I mistook for the real thing. She loved drama and cheating on her husband with me. In a different world and time, it might have worked out with Jessica. (Update: I recently tried again with Jessica and remembered that she majored in drama. When things are exciting and scary, you tend to ignore those red flags. Did I mention I'd probably never trust her?)

Jill: 9/10 Jill got me, which scared the living hell out of me. She was funny, beautiful, and a hell of a lot smarter than I was. I attribute our failure to bad timing and me being an emotional post-divorce disaster. I liked Jill a lot, and my mom would have, too. But Jill moved across the country, and we never spoke again. It was probably for the best.

Shannon: 10/10 Shannon was a badass. Fun, sexy, smart, and she could read me like a book—which absolutely terrified me. I loved Shannon, and she loved me back. We were going to be together. So what happened? I guess I happened. This one still causes a little pain in my stomach. She's married now, and I truly hope she's happy.

The problem with Shannon wasn't her; it was the pathetic guy who writes blog posts ranking his exes.

Match.com: The Log-in Game

As a seasoned veteran of the Match.com scene, I've learned many tough lessons: the over-sharers, the profile pictures from ten years ago, and even the etiquette for a one-night stand (always offer breakfast—I'm old-fashioned like that).

But a new lesson has recently caught my attention: The Login Game. Let me explain.

You're seeing someone and you've hit that awkward in-between zone (dates four through six). You're having fun and you don't want to date anyone else, but neither of you has brought up being exclusive—likely out of fear of making things weird. With this paranoia in full swing, you occasionally log in to Match.com, click on her profile, and see that she was online within the last hour. Hmm.

From here, there are a few options:

• The Douche Move: "I saw you've been on Match. What's up? Are you talking to other guys?" This works well for the insecure clowns, but it's not my style.

• The Cool Guy Move: "So, um, we're cool and all, but are we cool?" This isn't a terrible approach, but eye contact and tone are key. She'll either know you're asking about your relationship status or assume you're trying to buy weed.

• The No Move: Just don't say anything.

I don't have an answer to this one yet...but wait.

What if she's logging on to see if I'm logging on?

Whoa, man. That's deep. Maybe I should see if she's selling that weed after all.

The Date That Made Me Question All My Life Choices

I recently re-joined Match.com and started chatting with Sabrina. She was attractive, had a great job, and claimed to have an amazing sense of humor, so we made plans to get drinks. I walked in the door at 5:54 p.m.—a detail that will become important later.

When we met, she actually looked like her pictures, which was a refreshing change. But then something odd happened. I asked her about her Easter dinner, and she replied with three words: "It was fine." Okay, so I asked if she'd done anything fun with her family over the weekend. "Not really."

This went on for the next half hour. I’d ask an open-ended question and receive a one-to-five-word response, followed by silence. I didn't even get the unimaginative follow-up question, "What about you?" It seemed like even "You?" was too much to ask.

After about 20 minutes of this, she finally offered, "I don't have much to say sometimes." No kidding, Socrates. I asked her if she wanted another drink, and she literally just shrugged her shoulders, unable to utter a syllable. I took that as my cue, called for the check, paid it like a chump, and mercifully, the date ended.I got back to my car at 6:32 p.m.

The lesson: If you're on a terrible date with someone you know you'll never see again, and she offers to split the check, don't be a hero—just split the check.

How to Talk to Women: A Field Guide for the Socially Awkward

This post is a straightforward guide on how to approach and talk to women, based on personal experience. The author's perspective is built on two key realizations: getting older and "not giving a fuck." This shift in mindset changed a self-defeating thought process that once prevented any attempt at conversation.

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Key Takeaways & Actionable Advice

1. Practice, Practice, Practice

• The Goal: Not to get a date, but to simply start a conversation.

• The Method: Spend one day talking to five attractive women.

• Example: See a woman in a grocery store? Make a simple comment about a product, even if it's a "small white lie."

• Likely Outcome: 98% chance she smiles, says thanks, and moves on. The more you do it, the easier it gets.

2. The "Magic" Pickup Line

• Simple is Best: The most effective "pickup line" is "Hi" and a smile.

• What to Say Next: Have a relevant, non-offensive follow-up comment ready.

• Handling Rejection: If you get a blank stare or rude response, just smile, take a deep breath, and move on. You've dodged a bullet.

3. The Worst-Case Scenario

• The Experience: The author recounts a woman who told him she didn't date "bigger" guys.

• The Lesson: This type of cruel feedback is a reflection of her character, not your worth. Realize "what a bitch" she was and move on.

4. Give a Little "Shit"

• Be Playful: Be polite and nice, but don't be afraid to poke fun.

• Example: If she disagrees with you, jokingly say, "Thanks for screaming at me."

• Why it Works: This can put her on the defensive in a playful way, continuing the conversation. If she flips out, you just saved yourself from dating someone who's "uptight."

5. If She's Not Interested, Move On

• It's Not Personal: If you get a "no," or she blows you off, just move on.

• Perspective: You likely won't see this person again, so there’s no harm in trying. (Unless she's a co-worker or boss—in that case, tread lightly).

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Final Thought:

If you never try, you've already lost. The worst that can happen is you get some practice, maybe make a friend, and flatter someone. Life is short, so don't live with the regret of not saying "Hi."

Why "Perfect on Paper" Doesn't Work

My friend is a stand-up guy—a successful man who works hard for his family. On paper, he hit the jackpot with his wife: she's beautiful and comes from a wealthy family. It all makes perfect sense, like a financial statement written in cursive. Yet, watching him, it's clear that life isn't a spreadsheet.

I recently found myself in a similar boat. I met a woman who, on paper, was a slam dunk: low-drama, attractive, kind, and considerate. She had everything I thought I wanted, but for some reason, the chemistry just wasn't there. At 31, I felt the pressure to "buy in" and settle down, but no amount of mental gymnastics could make it work.

In the past, I’ve definitely been a victim of "good enough." I stayed in relationships that weren’t making me happy just because an attractive woman was interested. As a friend once wisely put it, "You start ignoring red flags, and one day you look down and you're standing on a huge pile."

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The Blame Game and the "Spark"

So, why do we stay in these situations? And why do we blame ourselves when a seemingly perfect relationship fails? I felt guilty that I didn't like my ex as much as she liked me. I've been ruined by the few times I've felt that unmistakable "spark"—that lightning-bolt moment when you meet someone and everything just clicks. Your heart races, you blush, and you start fantasizing about a future that includes this new person.

But when that spark is missing, we often fall back on old habits. We get lonely and question our own worth, thinking, "Why would anyone else love me?" We go back to bad relationships, conveniently forgetting the pain and romanticizing the good times. We choose the wrong people because we know they'll accept us, even if it means more pain down the road. We basically go back for seconds and ask, "Thank you, sir, may I have another?"

The bottom line is this: If the spark isn't there, don't cling to the hope that it will magically appear. You owe it to yourself to believe you're worthy of a relationship that ignites your fire and brings out the best in you. It can be a lonely road, but you deserve more than settling for "good enough." You deserve to be decent to yourself.

Dating 101 for Dudes: Stop being yourself

Dating Advice for the Fellas

Since I offered some unsolicited advice to the ladies, I figured you guys could use some equally useless dating advice.

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Keep the First Date Simple

Don't plan a bunch of extravagant stuff for a first date. When I first started dating after my divorce, I'd plan nice dinners and multiple activities, only to realize I was wasting a ton of cash on women I had little in common with. Stop it. For a first date, just plan for drinks or coffee—nothing more. If you're both enjoying yourselves at the end of it, feel free to extend the evening. But if she's a total pain in the ass, you can cut your losses after a single drink.

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Just Be Yourself

There's no point in spending the first few dates pretending to be someone you're not. At some point, the real you is going to emerge, and it'll be in stark contrast to who you've pretended to be. Knock that off. When you meet the right person, whether it's for the night or forever, it'll be because of who you truly are, not who you fake being.

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Be Polite

Hold open doors, offer to buy drinks, and just be polite. Maybe this won't get you laid, but it'll mean you aren't a jerk, which counts for something as far as karma is concerned.

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Listen More, Talk Less

Shut the f* up**. Smile a lot, ask questions, and let her talk about herself. Throw in funny comments when you can, and only talk when you have something meaningful to say. Mostly, though, realize that she probably doesn't give a damn about most of what you have to say. Don't be rude; just smile, ask about her, listen, and whatever you do, don't one-up her stories. (In fact, don't do that to anyone, unless you want to be an asshole.)

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Be Honest, But Not Brutally Honest

Say things like, "You look great" and "It was a lot of fun to hang out with you." Avoid statements like, "Your p* stinks**" or "I think you're a b**." These sound funny and obvious, but some guys get a few drinks in them and decide to be "cute." See Rule #4: Shut the fuck up.

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Act Confident

Confidence can be hard for a lot of us because it may not be in our nature. If you're not confident, follow this rule: act as if. Just pretend you are confident. Believe that someone, somewhere, is going to find you attractive. Maybe it's not the girl you're on a date with, but someone will be into you for who you actually are. It's the law of averages, man. I know a guy who was a total nerd in high school, moved to Korea, and now has a hot wife. I'm just sayin'—it happens. Just be you.

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Don't Be Pushy

There's a fine line between taking a chance when you think she's interested and being a pushy douche. If you think she's into you and you're feeling the moment, take your shot. Maybe you'll miss (aka get shot the f*** down), but at least you took a chance. Now, if you get rejected and keep pushing, you're probably a creepy dude. Maybe it works with some women, but it most likely means you're a shitty person.

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So, that's what I've got, fellas. In short: don't be a dick.

Match.com: The Fine Print of Love

I’ve been on Match.com for four years, so you can imagine my success rate. I’ve had some truly awful dates, like these:

• A girl who got drunk and cried (this happened twice, with two different women).

• A girl who told me about her STD within the first 30 minutes. I appreciate her telling me, but the timing was terrible.

• A girl who told me she was sexually abused as a child and then kept asking, "You're freaking out, right?" I was. Of course, I was.

• A girl who texted through our entire date and then excitedly asked when we could hang out again.

• A girl who referred to her mom as a "cunt." I have to admit, I was impressed. Her mom did sound like a twat.

But tonight’s date was the worst. The girl I was meeting was a college cheerleader. Her profile said she was cute, athletic, and "active," so I was looking forward to it.

When I got there, the person in front of me somewhat resembled her pictures, but there were some major discrepancies:

• She wasn't 23; she was closer to 39.

• She was about 75 pounds heavier than the college cheerleader in the pictures.

(I'm not a jerk; I’ve dated women of all sizes. I just want people to be honest.)

I had to make conversation with someone who looked like the person in the pictures after being stung by a thousand hornets. While I was nice and didn't mention it, all I could think was, "WHAT IS WITH THE FUCKING PICTURES, DUDE!?" Didn't she think I’d notice? Was she hoping I was blind?

Faced with having a conversation with a liar, I did what any decent, honest, and upstanding guy would do: I invented a fictional birthday party I had to get to. I finished my beer, paid for hers, and got out of there as fast as I could.

And who was the winner in all this? The hornets.

Calling online dating a dumpster fire is an insult... to dumpsters

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A First-Person Account of Online Dating

In the past five years, I've been on roughly 40 dates. Let that number sink in for a minute. I'm not counting the women I got drunk enough to go home with me (bless their hearts), nor am I counting the drunken, two-hour car trips in the middle of the night to get laid (Valparaiso, Indiana, is lovely at 3 a.m.). Nope, I have been on 40-ish awkward, uncomfortable, sweat-inducing first dates. And I enjoyed none of them.

It's not that these women were all ugly. Okay, some were ugly, and fat, and kind of bitchy. But the rest of them were nice and attractive. So, where did it all go so wrong?

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The Online Dating Dance

I've tried every dating site: Match, eHarmony, OkCupid!, Plenty of Fish—the list goes on. The one thing they all have in common is competition. The last article I read about online dating said there's a 5:1 male-to-female ratio, which makes sense. As a man, if there is a medium by which I can get laid without ever leaving my couch, I'm in. So, you pay your money, create an account, write a witty headline, post three pictures of yourself where you aren't hungover, exaggerate your income, make up some fake interests, and hope for the best.

Did I mention the "winks" sent to express interest? Or the random emails to strangers? The whole dance is just ridiculous. While some women are kind enough to completely ignore your interest, others have the audacity to tell you they aren't interested. Doesn't anyone have the common decency to lie to someone, or at the very least, pretend they never existed?

Anyway, in the event someone is interested, you begin exchanging emails and hope they have something interesting to say. You ask about favorite movies, music, and vacation spots, and the always popular "What do you do for fun?" More than once, I've been tempted to answer, "Orgasm. Nap."

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The Inevitable First Date

So the time comes when you decide to meet. You don't offer to pick them up—not unless you want to be labeled a rapist. You have to meet in a public place (preferably a dark alley, but they're always apprehensive about that one), and it can't be food or a movie (if you read their profile, you'd know this).

The time comes and the date is set. You start to imagine all the different scenarios: if it goes well or if it sucks. Finally, the time has come and you wait, trying not to compare every woman who walks through the door to the one in the pictures you've seen.

Then, she appears. And for whatever reason, good or bad, you both know. Sometimes it's because they posted a picture that was 40 pounds and five years ago. But more often than not, it's something unexplainable. All the time, emails, and texts where it all seems to be right, and in an instant, you both know. You politely make conversation, sip your drinks, and rehash conversations already had. But it's been decided. You share an awkward hug and go your separate ways, likely to never speak again.

And the dance goes on.