Date Gone Wrong Experiment

I didn't write this article but I found it so hilarious that I wanted to share it with all my dear brave ladies that are out there walking the bumping and tricky streets (dating) that might lead you to find your love. As for me I hate dating so much that I kind of avoid them (the lord have mercy.) I find dating too stressful for me, the whole playing games and "having" to do things to impress a guy scene, is just not my thing...
 
I did this... Asked my dates for feedback by Romy Oltuski

Trapped in a unexpected downpour, Matt and I are cracking up, racing to see who can summon an Uber to Hell's Kitchen first. I'm an hour late to a family dinner- a real one, not an exit-strategy fiction- having lost track of time during our butterflies-inducing first date. Running into the rain, he tucks me into the car- but not before leaning for a kiss. "Bye," He says, smiling.
And it is good-bye, for good.

Sound familiar? Matt isn't the first guy I've felt I clicked with and never heard from again. Every case of misaligned dating expectations sets off a fresh round of fruitless self-examination. Was I too talkative? Boring? Not hot enough? Did I have food in my teeth? Final diagnosis: It's the dad jokes.

But then why did he seem so into me over dinner? If there's one person I trust to give it to me straight, It's Patti Strange of Millionaire Matchmaker fame. "Having fun on a date means zip," she declares. "Women process during the date: 'I liked what he said'; 'I like that he kissed me just right.' Men process on the way home."

To find out what stuck after all that processing. I decide to put my ego aside and try something crazy: Just Ask. Maybe I have a bad dating habit I can kick, the romantic equivalent swearing on a job interview. When I ask for Stranger's blessing, her answer is Hell. No. "First impressions don't mean shit. Only ask men you had a significant relationships with," she cautions. But I want to know what goes wrong on early dates, the kind that never grow into significant relationships- So I take a deep breath and call Matt.

Like several other men I approach, Matt sounds like he'd rather fly Malaysia Airlines than talk to me about what might have been. I try explaining that I'm writing a story. "For science!" I plead. "gd luck," he texts back.

I do have some luck, though. A quirky designer I met on OkCupid says he knew there was no chemistry five minutes into our date, but found me entertaining enough for a second round of drinks; he scolds me for having left my phone on the table. Another match, someone I was set up with by a friend, chalks up our fizzling after three dates to my being a night owl. Then there's Danny, my first Tinder date, who invites me out to discuss our failure over beer and Ping-Pong. He compliments my "stunning" eyes. I swoon. "We should do this again," he says, "but off the record."

In the end, Strangers calls it: I learn the most from Bryan, a guy I dated for several months. Diving in, I ask him where we went wrong. The good: I look like my pictures and I command a room. The not-so-good: I'm a tardy texter, I dress a like "conservatively," and I like to be one of the bros. If those are my fatal flaws, I can live with. Truth is, these awkward chats suck the shame out of rejection. The calls aren't that humiliating, and what I thought happened on each of these romantic misfires turns out to be dead wrong. 

Incidentally, the weekend after our rehash, I bump into Tinder Danny. I'm leaving an Upper West Side diner as he is walking in. Last month, I would have hidden behind my gym bag and frantically searched for a back exit, Instead, I walk over, put a hand on his shoulder, and say, "Great to see you"- all while batting my "stunning" eyes, of course.