First Dates Are Like Interviews
There’s been a little raucous over my First Date Red Flags post. Most of the uproar has come from red flag #2 – mentioning WoW or MMORPG on a first date. Maryann at BaltAmour picked up on my post and thought I was being a little harsh. Her words:
Hey hey! We all talk about our hobbies on the first date. And just because he (or she) mentions such games, it doesn’t mean they’re obsessed.
Agreed. WoW or MMORPG as an interest isn’t such a bad thing. I’ve said it before, but I take no issue with the game or the gamer, just the obsession. I’ll talk more about obsessions later. Most of Maryanne’s readers were rational in their responses, but one poor fellow obviously felt maligned because he said this in the comments:
I’m sorry, I couldn’t read that woman’s article because I got freaked out looking at her mug.
I’m guessing this guy is a walking red flag. I’m not the prettiest girl in the world, but I’m certainly not freaky to look at it. To go there is just plain sad (for him).
Most of the controversy came from Nicodemus at Killtenrats.com with his Pot Calls Kettle Black post. Nicodemus/Robert calls me (and Angie) out by saying:
To Jen on content dynasty: Grow up and get over yourself. You should be so lucky to date someone that plays world of warcraft or some other MMORPG. They are probably better behaved, smarter, and more intelligent than the usual guys you probably date. Your readers should date some gamers too, or at least get with the times. If you don’t know what a mmorpg is (massively multiplayer gunbusting? wtf?) they are sorely out of touch and live in a little bubble. And seriously, Myspace is so…5 years ago.
I have no hard feelings for his words (we’ve conversed via email) and certainly respect his honesty, but he seems to have incited the MMORPG crowd to gang up against me raid-style. I’ve responded to most of the comments here on my blog and the ones directed at me on his blog, so instead of rehashing this again I want to get back to the bigger issue – first dates.
First Dates Are Like Casual Interviews
Here’s what I said about this on the Kill Ten Rats blog:
I guess I hit a nerve with the MMORPG crowd, which really wasn’t the intention of the post. I stand by red flag #2 because obsession with MMOs, like any other obsession, is unhealthy and I need a man who has balance in his life. I personally feel that first dates are like casual interviews and both parties should want to present their best qualities. The dating process is meant for getting to know someone, that’s the whole point. You would never reveal on a first date that you had credit card woes or a gambling addiction, unless of course you’re a little on the unstable side. The funny thing about people is that once we get to know each other the less than attractive or quirky qualities sometimes become attractive or endearing. If you think that the person across the table from you wouldn’t mind hearing how you reached level 60 in two weeks, then you’ve probably already established a strong enough bond, making the person more receptive to what you’re saying (instead of turned off by it).
First dates are filled with subtleties, signals, cues, and occasionally silence. Given that a first date is the beginning of the dating process, it follows that what is said and done on the first date can be very indicative of what’s to come. If the man or woman sharing dessert with you can’t stop talking about their previous lover, you will probably assume that he/she has some unresolved baggage. You then have the opportunity to determine whether or not you’re putting yourself at risk by continuing to date this person. If you can’t leave your dirty laundry in the laundry bin, then you should expect to be judged. It’s just human nature.
I’d like to think that I’m a catch, but I do have several qualities that men might initially shy away from. I would never lie or distort the truth with a person I was really interested in, but I might not immediately bring up the fact that I don’t have a car on a first date. Of course there’s a reasonably good explanation (horrific car accident totaled my Jeep), and it probably wouldn’t be an issue, but I’d rather save that piece of information for a time when the guy has a more complete picture of who I am. I cannot be defined by the fact that I don’t have a car, so why would I give someone, who really has very little knowledge about me, the opportunity to walk away from a first date with more information than necessary. If you’re a gamer with balance in your life, you won’t need to talk excessively about your hobby. If your hobby defines you, however, you will want to talk about it. This is the red flag; a potentially unhealthy obsession that could interfere in the dating process.
There’s certainly more to be said about this subject matter, but I think I’ll save it for another post. And in all fairness to the male species, I’m planning to write an altruistic blog post on first date red flags for men to look out for.
Working Out with the Big Boys
I enjoy a good workout. Sometimes getting off the couch or out of the coffee shop or bar is tough, but once I make it to the gym, the adrenaline kicks in and I get pumped. For years, though, I have always been afraid to venture past that odoriferous line separating the cardio equipment from the free weights. I knew how to operate a few machines, so I would do these same machines each time, ultimately making my workout routine and doing my body an injustice.
I’m pretty sure that I’m not the only female to find the testosterone levels of the free weights area just a tad bit scary. The whole scene is very animalistic; there’s grunting, displays of prowess, huffing and puffing, and carnivorous enthusiasm and drive. Walking into this den of sweat and machismo makes any female, who isn’t herself the size of Texas, feel like it really is a jungle out there.
I’ve managed to fight my fear and I’ve learned some valuable lessons along the way, lessons that are good for the mind and body.
Hire a Personal Trainer
You don’t need a Personal Trainer for a lifetime, or even a year, but I recommend buying a small package of sessions (5 – 10) with a trainer you trust. Having a PT guide you through a few different types of workouts is the best possible way to learn how to use all the weight machines and to give you the confidence you need to hold your own in the free weights section. Pay attention to the exercises, machine adjustments, and weight settings for everything you do. Most trainers will document everything for you, but always make sure to ask for this. You’re paying for the time so the time needs to work for you, and you need the value long after the trainer is the gone.
It’s super important that you hire a trainer you’re comfortable with, not just one the gym sticks you with. I had tried personal training on three separate occasions, and each time I didn’t feel at ease with the person training me so I had no desire to keep seeing them. When I finally met a trainer who I could talk to, the training sessions changed my life. I felt comfortable enough to vocalize my needs, fears, and concerns.
Finding a trainer that is right for you is tricky, especially when the major chains hire amateurs and put them in personal training shirts. A good friend once told me that the trainers at a popular chain are just there to get experience before they get certified and move on to better paying gigs. If you’re in the market for a trainer at a chain keep in mind, though, that you’re the customer. Ask a manager if you can purchase a single session with a trainer you’ve already scoped out (watch them with other clients first).
Focus on You
People are judgmental and curious, and this will always be the case at the gym. Those guys in the free weight section might be checking out your ass or scrutinizing it, but either way you need to put those things out of your head. Focus on your workout only. Use an iPod to tune out the noise and use your mind to tune into the exercises you’re doing.
Act Like You Belong
Fake it until you make it. Confidence is key, and confidence comes from stepping outside your comfort zone as much as possible. You’ll get respect from everyone, including the massive muscle building guys, if you just act like you belong. You do belong. It’s your gym just as much as it is theirs.
Working out with the big boys can be intimidating, but once you start feeling confident in the predominantly male sections of the gym, you’ll quickly become acclimated to the scene; so much so that you might actually start contributing to that odoriferous smell (I certainly do).
First Date Red Flags
I’ve been doing a little bit of dating these days and it’s working out well for my personal blog, but not so much for my personal dating life. Here are some red flags and warning signs to pay special attention to when on the all important first date.
- He says “we” at anytime. The first date is merely the meeting of two individuals, two distinct individuals. If you hit it off, you’ll both have the opportunity to use “we” in the future, but it should have no place at the first date dinner table. There are only two reasons a man would use “we” on the first date. a) He’s a pig and he’s trying to get you into bed. b) He’s already put the cart before the horse, and he wants you to be his girlfriend. A man that uses “we” on the first date has pretty much laid all his cards on the table. He’s expecting this first date to go somewhere more serious, and even though it’s admiral to think it, he should never say it. He’s needy and needy men become clingy and unattractive after a few months (but you’ll already be stuck in a serious relationship).
- Either of the acronyms “WoW” (in reference to World of Warcraft) or “MMORPG” (Massive Multiplayer Online Role-Playing Games) escape his lips. If he uses both in the same sentence, run away fast. I have nothing against a man that plays these online games (that’s not totally true), but if he can’t contain his enthusiasm for his hobby, you can assume all of the following: he’s obsessed, he’s skipped a shower for an important battle/match, he’ll choose the game over sex at some point in the relationship, he’s already created a female character that is more buxom than any playboy centerfold, and he’ll blame you for infringing upon his mode of relaxation if you try to pull him away from the game for anything other than food.
- He can’t decide which sports bar to take you to. Sports are great. Men who love sports are great. Sports on the first date, unless the date is the live sporting event, is not great; it signifies a man that isn’t willing to sacrifice his love of the game for a chance to really get to know you. His priorities won’t change for the second date or after the second year of dating. This really isn’t a problem in Southern California, but venture to New England and the sports bar conundrum could happen to you (it’s happened to me).
- You need a drink to have a good time. This seems obvious, but alcohol impairs your judgment. If the guy bores you when you’re sober, but alcohol makes him good people, chances are you’ll always be less than entertained when you’re in the company of this male and without a drink.
I’ve started the list, now it’s your turn to add to it. Angie, you’ve got at least one or two to add right?
Make Me Beautiful
This country is obsessed with beauty.
There are at least 3 model competition/reality television shows (America’s Next Top Model, Make Me a Supermodel, America’s Most Smartest Model), two shows based entirely on plastic surgery (Dr. 90210, Nip/Tuck), and countless other television and reality shows that aren’t necessarily about beauty but only feature the most attractive percentage of Americans. Ever watch Law & Order? If so, you’ll notice that every single female Assistant District Attorney rivals a model in beauty and a centerfold in curves. Simply put, beauty, especially female beauty, is ubiquitously celebrated. It’s no wonder the American Society for Aesthetic Plastic Surgery found that of the 11.5 million cosmetic surgeries taking place in 2006, 92% of them where commissioned by women. 47.4% of all cosmetic surgeries are on men and women between the ages of 35 – 50 years of age. Also, 98.6% of these procedures are done on patients 18 years of age or older. Given that the US Census* estimates the population of people 18 years or older at 225,662,922, 1 in every 41 people 18 years of age or older had some form of plastic surgery in 2006. If the male-female ratio is 96.3, then approximately 114,962,334 of these 18+ adults are women, with 1 in every 11 women in the US undergoing plastic surgery in 2006.
My position on cosmetic surgery has changed over the years. Initially vehemently opposed to surgical enhancement, I’ve come to discover that my own insecurities are deep enough that a breast enhancement crosses my mind every now and then. For me it would be something to consider later in life (perhaps the 35 – 50 year range) when my youthful exuberance has vanished from more than just my outlook on life. My logic is, if I can contemplate it, then I can’t fault anyone for actually doing it.
My problem is that as a society we’ve all inched closer and closer to celebrating an unrealistic standard of beauty. Blame can’t be pinpointed on any one party or sex, but whether we like it or not cosmetic surgery is prevalent and women and men alike celebrate its benefits. Real breasts have been supersized with fake breasts and ogled the world round, noses are trimmed down to more acceptable sizes, and faces are lifted to look like plastic replicas of one’s former self. Fake is the new natural, and natural is the new sign of old age.
Realistically the surgically enhanced standard of beauty pales in comparison to the genetically granted kind, so why all the trouble to achieve something that just isn’t possible? It’s the quest. The process to achieve unrealistic aspirations; something with historic and ancient roots dating back to the Bible with Adam’s attempt to rival God’s power, and Greek Mythology’s Icarus who flew too high, and in doing so approached the sun he sought which ultimately seared his wings.
*Estimates of the Population by Selected Age Groups for the United States and States and for Puerto Rico: July 1, 2006 (SC-EST2006-01)
Source: Population Division, U.S. Census Bureau
Release Date: May 17, 2007
Younger Men Vs. Older Men
Over the past 5 years I’ve admittedly been an ageist when it comes to dating. My strict policy has been to only seriously consider men older than me, preferably by 5 years or more, as potential boyfriends. Perhaps it was the scorned love of a younger man that prompted my swing in the other direction, or the attraction I have to men with power, or maybe I became aware of the fact that older men are usually more financially stable, but regardless of the reason I indulged whole-heartedly in my predilection for older men. Perhaps I was resolute in my decision too soon. Recently, I’ve been exposed to a younger generation of men that have helped me see beyond my initial boundaries. Given that my two greatest loves were a man 8 years my senior and a man 2 years my junior, I thought I’d share what I’ve come to ascertain to be the pros and cons of dating older and younger men (with some additional insight from Angie).
Disclaimer – When I refer to younger men, I’m discussing guys in their early 20s, and when I discuss older men, I’m referencing men in their 30s. These observations are singular to dating situations when the parties involved are of disparate ages.
Older Men
To a single gal in her 20s, the allure of a man in is 30s is unmistakable. The promise of an older man is the promise of more stability, financial security, professional ambition or direction, social savvy, and relationship maturity. Unfortunately, in actuality, these promises hold little truth. The older men in my dating arsenal usually possess two of the above qualities, and they usually come with an adverse downside. Some tenets I’ve learned from experience include:
- Older men are set in their ways. By the time a man reaches his 30s he has already developed a pretty distinct sense of self. Add the bachelor factor into the equation and what you’re left with is a man who is accustomed to having things done his way in a manner that he is comfortable with. Spontaneity has been replaced by routine, and ambition has been sacrificed to a contentment or resigned satisfaction with the status quo. His tastes have been fine tuned, his sense of adventure has been tempered, and his bad habits, ranging from diet preferences to bedroom behavior, have had the benefit of time in their pursuit of permanency.
- Older men are relationship-inept. The advent of more time to hone their skills in building better relationships is really just an idealic quality that we younger woman hope for in an older man. Yes, the arguments will be more tempered and less irrational, but the older man is also quick to blame the woman for being irrational or less experienced in matters of life. Men are less likely than woman to use the past experiences of their previous relationships to improve upon their current relationships. Given that with more age comes more failed relationships, chances are that the older man has not grown significantly from his former relationships, making him a less attractive candidate for the role of boyfriend.
- Older men either want something serious or non-committal. As stated above, an older man is very self-aware. A man in his 30s knows what he wants and falls into one of two categories: determined to get married, or determined not to get married. A woman with less concretely defined ideas around the subject of matrimony is forced to chose between the man that wants to fall head-over-heals in love immediately (but will settle for less) and a man that is resolute against a serious relationship (and consequently not available to love anyone but themselves). Both options present finite ends that eliminate the possibility of real romance and relationship maturation.
Younger Men
On the surface the younger man is something to be feared by an older woman. At the very least he subjects the woman to being scrutinized by society and being labeled a cougar. In addition, a younger man can bring with him financial instability, professional ambiguity, dating inexperience, sexual inexperience, and social ineptitude. Most of these labels, however, apply to a small portion of men in their early twenties who are still suffering from the removal of the fraternal comfort zone created during their college years. A man in his 20s is more likely to possess the following qualities:
- Younger men are experimental. A man in his 20s is rearing to try everything under the sun. From his under-developed outlook on politics and life matters to his willingness and eagerness to explore all facets of the bedroom, the younger man is searching for rich experiences and is not afraid of stepping outside his comfort zone. He’s adventurous, hopeful, ambitious, and craving knowledge. Simply put, the younger man is just plain fun to be around.
- Younger men are relationship-capable. A man in his 20s usually has the advantage of a few test run relationships under his belt, but isn’t yet a victim of the bitter break-up; he’s essentially baggage free, making him open to compromise and free to fall in love. The younger man won’t rush into anything with the abandoned rashness of a teenager, but he also won’t prevent a natural connection with a woman from developing into something more.
- Younger men don’t need labels. An older woman who craves a definition or something concrete too soon will find herself disappointed with a man in his early 20s. Although he’s not against finding a relationship, he’s also the type to take things day by day and let them develop naturally. He may not immediately express feelings with his words, but he certainly won’t hold back in how he shows his affection. A younger man is open to the possibilities, but not determined to finalize any relationship arrangements.
Of course these are all generalizations and every man will be slightly different, but there are certainly truths here that warrant consideration and discussion.
School of Wonder – Part 2
This is part 2 of my short story School of Wonder. The story begins in this post.
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“Daniel and I never discussed what happened in that bedroom, my bedroom.”
“Oh,” said Dr. Humphrey as he probed a bit further, “Why do you think that is?”
“I didn’t know what we were doing, so why would I be inclined to discuss it with him?”
“Well, you had the presence of mind not to say anything. Don’t you think that constitutes awareness or – at the very least – guilt?”
“I know what you’re doing. You’re trying to make this about him and about sex. It’s not about that. I honestly had forgotten the entire incident until I started seeing you.”
“Why do you think that is?”
“I don’t know.”
Dr. Humphrey, a psychologist my parents’ had found through their insurance company, was the type of guy that you couldn’t help but like. He was the All-American man with his blue eyes, sandy blonde hair, professorial beard, and athletic build. His demeanor was always poised, and yet there was a pervasive and perpetual glint in his eyes, a hypnotic beam of light that radiated affection; all you had to do was confide in him and he would save you from your demons. I trusted him immediately. I told him things that I could never even admit to myself. He knew about Daniel. No one knew about Daniel. Daniel wasn’t real.
After the summer of ‘87 and the incident, Daniel and I never spoke – we were forbidden to do so. My mom never spoke of the incident or Daniel, my dad didn’t even know about the incident, and I blindly accepted that Daniel was a bad boy and I was a bad girl. What else was I to believe?
Now here I was, 12 years later, with my body in a conflicted state, somewhere between being entirely erect and slumped over on Dr. Humphrey’s blue leather couch. I was wearing my favorite pair of jeans and a translucent white tank top with a bleach white bra underneath – all, of course, specifically selected for this occasion. With my creamy white skin, long dirty blonde hair, perfectly shaped eyes, polite nose, and my soccer-toned legs, I knew that I could successfully distract any man that I wanted to, and today, like every other session day with Dr. Humphrey, I chose to focus all my efforts of distraction on him. He never verbally acknowledged my behavior, but that glint in his eyes spoke volumes to me. Maybe he was using nonverbal cues to give me the attention I craved, or maybe my efforts to seduce him were ignored for the sake of appearances, but either way I knew he feared and welcomed the sexual being inside of me. The reader should note that the sexual consummation of our patient-client relationship was of no interest to me. In fact, at the time, sex was nothing more than a routine act of ego-gratification, a pleasure of the mind only. I wanted him to want me. I wanted the power that comes from subjugating a dominant male.
“Colleen, I believe our time is up, but I want you to think about what happened last month. I know it’s painful to talk about, but I think there’s a connection between what happened and your childhood experiences with Daniel. You have a tendency to internalize the negative and that might be hurting you more than you realize.”
I hated thinking about what happened. What’s there to think about? I was raped, or at least that’s the only word I knew to associate with what had happened. What do you call a date gone wrong, a sexual experience that you don’t want but can’t stop? Is it rape just because you said no? Or do you have to actually fight back? I didn’t fight back. I said no repeatedly, I cried, I tried to push him off me, but that’s it. It happened. Dr. Humphrey didn’t know about this, nor did my parents. Last month I swallowed a myriad of generic advil pills to cope, and now I found myself in counseling at the behest of my devout parents.
“See you next time David.” My words were bespeckled with flirtatious expectation. My tone was suggestive, my body was alert, and my look devilish. I walked away with an air of accomplishment. I drove home, put on my pajamas, and numbed my mind with television. Everything was fine now. Little did I know that I was about to have a dream so life-like that it could only be true. A dream that was to expose all the secrets of that afternoon when Daniel and I played in the sun and returned to my bedroom to explore the unknown.
The Start of a Short Story
Aspiring writer has always been one title that I’ve used to describe who I am. Although writing is a huge part of my professional career, I’ve really done little to support my fiction writing aspirations. In the effort to pursue dreams and remove ‘aspiring’ from that title, I’ve decided to leverage this blog and, at the very least, start writing short stories.
Below is my first pass at the start of a short story that has been in the making for years. It’s absolutely fiction, but inspired by a number of dreams and a few real life experiences. Since I’m using my blog as a publishing medium, I welcome feedback and promise to continue the story as soon as my creative juices return.
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School of Wonder
“I’m the doctor. You’re the patient. Now stop moving and keep your voice down.”
Daniel was over at my house, like so many times before, but this time we weren’t playing board games or rummaging through the backyard. This time we were in my peach-painted bedroom. My bed, perpendicular to the open window, was decidedly confused as was its sole occupant, me. I lay still under the pink covers with my Osh Gosh Bgosh overalls unbuckled and my blue tee pulled up to my armpits, revealing my pale white chest and navel to the pastel pink sheets atop my body and the intruding hand of a seven year-old boy, a hand that acted to separate the sheets from my skin. The door was closed and the air was thick with my unease.
With the pristine innocence of a six year-old girl I asked, “Why do we need to be quiet?” Daniel’s response was inaudible as he held the index finger of his right hand to his mouth. He motioned for silence and I acquiesced. What I didn’t know then was that Daniel’s hands, maneuvered by his male curiosity, were getting ready to explore the differences between my prepubescent body and his.
For me, six and sex were worlds apart. I wasn’t aware that my body parts were any different from a boy’s parts. A body to me was simply a vehicle through which I traversed the world. The naked body of a Barbie was my only frame of reference, but the only difference I could find between Barbie and Ken’s edenic state were Barbie’s boobs, which were nowhere to found on my body. So when Daniel stood beside my bed with his surgical tools, LEGO bricks and toy cars, my body was still but my conscience was turning a shade of ripe peach, not quite pink and definitely not blood red, but slightly exhibiting the first signs of guilt, of an awareness that something was not okay.
Before today Daniel and I had touched lips once in an experimental attempt at a kiss, and a mere replication of the behavior of our big kid friends and the adults on television. I certainly didn’t know to associate kissing with pleasure or touching with sexual desire. Those concepts were beyond my cognitive level of understanding. Daniel’s fascination with exploring an adult realm was perceived by me to be another game, like sticking our hands in dark crevices or holding our breath under water. It started with pure intentions.
The toy car, guided by the preciseness of Daniel’s hand, drove along the slight curvature of my undefined hips and skirted past the waistline border created by my overalls. Just as the toy car was inching closer to a garage of sorts, we both heard the unmistakable creaking of the stairs. We froze in terror as the steps on the stairs increased in volume and echoed throughout the two-story house. This time the steps would venture down the hall, past my room, and into the adjacent den. This time Daniel and I would have the presence of mind to pull down my blue tee, re-buckle my overalls, and re-make the bed. But this was just the first time and time would prove less fortunate for the both of us.
The Ex Effect
I was recently contacted via email by an ex-boyfriend from what feels like another lifetime ago.
In the interest of this post, I’ve decided to clip a small part of the email. His words describe how he found me.
I was clicking around yelp for reviews for that area and saw a review of yours. I found your blogs through that. It was weird to catch up with someone who wasn’t there.
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Where do I start? Obviously he could be reading this now, and I think it’s only fair to state that I haven’t responded to him yet. To speak to the world is easy. To speak to him is like reliving some of the most painful moments of my young adult life.
I was 18 then and definitely less aware of me. He wasn’t the best boyfriend. I wasn’t the best girlfriend. The details of the relationship are dramatic and tragic, novel-worthy to say the least. Truth be told I’m just not capable of reopening those wounds, of dealing with a past that I no longer talk about.
He’s probably changed. His email was kind. His words were sensitive. The woman inside of me wants to respond back, but I can’t. The loves that burn the most certainly scar the worst. My scars are permanent; these scars may be internal but they live on inside of me and I carry them with me.
His email, this reminder of things past, this attack on my current state of mind, it’s driving me mad. After all these years, how can one ex turn my world upside down with an email send button?
Adjusting to this shock is key. There’s no telling how many other ex-boyfriends will surface again. Let’s just hope their emails are kind and the memory of me doesn’t prompt some nasty blog comments.
RFP As A Metaphor For Dating
Having recently gone through a pretty extensive RFP process in my professional life, I’m discovering some interesting applications to my personal life and find myself thinking around the RFP process as a metaphor for my dating life.
The Request For Proposal Process:
- Definition of Scope of Work (SOW). The application here is in my inability to clearly define what it is I want, which I know to be fairly common in the business world. Sometimes I’m absolutely certain that I won’t settle for a man unless he is tall, educated, financially secure, passionate about me, family-oriented, a non-smoker, a social drinker, a man of faith, and not in a hurry to have kids. I lay out all these qualifications because I know, from past experience, that I shouldn’t settle for anything else. But then the proposals come in and I’m forced to settle for something less than I requested.
- Pre-Qualification of Suppliers. In the business world it’s only reasonable to use recommendations as a way to identify potential bidders for the RFP. In my personal life I use this process in much the same way. It’s very unlikely that I will extend an offer to compete for my SOW (whether that be a date, a relationship, or something else (wink)) unless I have prior knowledge of who you are as a man. Sometimes this knowledge comes via word of mouth and sometimes its gleaned through observation, but rest assured that if you want a date with me you’ll need to go through the pre-qualification process.
- Submission of RFP to Suppliers. I suppose I accomplish this by making myself available. It’s definitely more subtle then the business process, but I open myself up for response by dressing to the nines when I go out, socializing with interested parties, announcing my availability, and drinking.
- Suppliers Intent to Bid. Just as a Supplier would make their intent to bid known to the company who created the RFP, my suitors make their intent to deliver on the SOW by calling after an exchange of information. Calls received within three days or less are considered meeting the Intent to Bid deadline, and these men remain open for consideration. Those who don’t call will absolutely never be considered again. Of course there is some consideration that occurs if a call is received too soon, and the man in question seems too eager to compete for my attention. This behavior is a definite red flag.
- Submission of Proposals. All parties wanting to date yours truly eventually put all their cards out on the table. The RFP and proposal evaluation process specifically applies to my dating life such that I can’t reasonably evaluate one man without another man in the picture. There’s definitely something to be said for a competitive platform. For one, most men love a challenge . In addition, the introduction of competition makes them step up their game a bit. The more options available the more opportunity I have to select the things that really matter most to me.
- Supplier Selection. This is always the difficult part. Narrowing multiple opportunities into just one right decision can be difficult and stress inducing. The promise in the proposal isn’t always kept, and usually a contract is signed such that removing yourself from the contract is painful and uncomfortable for both parties. Engaging in a relationship is either one of two things, fruitful and fulfilling or headed towards eventual demise.
- Project Management. In the same way that a business relationship starts out extremely rewarding, my relationships start well but quickly unravel. Unforeseeable challenges develop over time. The conversations can start friendly, but eventually teeter on abrasiveness, and there’s always moments of miscommunication and misinterpretation.
If you really think about, dating is just one big RFP. Care to share your thoughts?
Resolution Remuneration
Resolutions are tricky.
The New Year inevitably brings with it the desire to change something for the better. We’re socially conditioned from birth to believe that the New Year is an opportunity for improvement and for making resolutions based on the knowledge gained in the previous year.
By the process of logical deduction, one comes to the conclusion that resolving to improve upon oneself means that the reward for the resolve should be greater than the sacrifice. And here is where I take issue.
When do I get to claim my reward? Where’s my resolution remuneration?
I cannot speak for anyone else, but I know that every resolution I’ve ever made has met its end at some point. That weight I resolved to lose, it was lost and then gradually it came back (it’s like that crazy ex-boyfriend that never quite stops stalking you). My resolutions around money usually never come to fruition. There’s always some bill, some trip, or some unforeseeable catastrophe that requires me to pull out my wallet and fork over whatever money I had previously saved. And then of course the breaking or collapsing of the resolve leads to inevitable let down.
I’ve decided to claim my resolution reward upfront in 2008. I resolve to reward myself as much as possible; any demonstration of resolve will be rewarded with a little self-love. Every time I pass the cookie jar, one ‘good for me’ thought is redeemed. Every time I pass up a shoe sale, one ‘way to go girl’ is awaiting my ego. Maybe these small incentives aren’t enough to make a big enough difference in my life, but there’s absolutely no way this approach can be less successful than my previous attempts at life-altering resolutions.
