When I was little (okay, sixteen), nothing was cooler to me than action figures. I would manipulate Shredder from the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles into teaming up with Spider-Man and Wolverine to take on the evil likes of Magneto and other villains. It gave me such a feeling of joy to sit and play with my toys and create new stories.

As the years went on, I started to grow out of my toys and into dating. As an adult, dating became one of my favorite pastimes. However, while Shredder and Spider-Man have yet to show up on any date I’ve been on, one of my favorite traits about the dates I’ve been on has been the imagination and effort put into them. Sometimes I’m the one with a brilliant idea, or sometimes the girl comes up with something fun, and sometimes it’s a combination of the two.

Regardless of who takes credit, it’s always fun to do something different. I always wanted to explore Dallas more before I left, but even my last dates there were still very basic: bowling, dinners, etc. I explored things on my own, such as two-stepping and indie concerts, but never had such fun dates.

And yet, when I was away, I became a master of fun dates. I guess it started with a date in Arkansas that stretched all the way to Memphis, but since moving to New York I’ve discovered the beauty of exploring a city with fresh eyes. Some people might groan at the touristy things to do in a city, but sometimes tourists go places for a reason. Though Times Square would still mostly be a no-no in my eyes, there are a lot of great options in the Big Apple and elsewhere.

My dates have been as simple as a Shabbat walk in Central Park or watching the sun set on the Hudson, or extravagant as trips to Coney Island and the Empire State Building. Being in New York has allowed me to see things with a fresh eye and excitement, and I think that fresh way of thinking has really enhanced the dates I’ve been on recently.

We all want to see the world from fresh eyes and be whisked away on an adventure, and you don’t have to be new to a city to do it. Try to take some time to go to that touristy place around you where no locals ever go — from Graceland to the Fort Worth Stockyards to the World of Coke to the Sears Tower. Sometimes things can be pricey, but they can also provide a new adventure, and definitely something different (and also probably more worth paying for than a dinner date). I don’t see myself playing with action figures any time soon, but in a sense the world is the greatest play set I’ve ever had, and I love trying new combinations of characters and places in it.

“Wow. I’m impressed by your knowledge of strip clubs.”
“Wow. This is the second time in the last month that I’ve been on a date and can say that I am genuinely impressed by your knowledge of strip clubs.”
#thingsihavesaidonfirstdates

Raise your hand if this has happened to you? Anyone? No? Okay, so it’s just me then. Can someone at least enlighten me to where the good guys are hiding? Are they off summering in the Hamptons or traveling somewhere fabulous? That’s the only feasible explanation I can come up with. I’ve only been on four dates this summer, and each and every one of them has left me thinking “what the what?” Perhaps, it’s the heat and humidity that is draining us New Yorkers of any and all sense of what’s up and what’s down. And maybe this heat exhaustion just makes guys feel the need to reveal their inner strip club connoisseur only halfway through their first beer. But whatever it is, it’s making me feel like I need a Gatorade and to run for the hills.

I hope you can understand my decision to take precautionary measures toward self-preservation. I’ve found that dating in the summer is a little slower paced than during the rest of the year. I believe the general rationale is that instead of focusing on starting something new in your life, you can just take a Summer Friday and escape it for a few days? It sounds good just thinking about it. So here’s my plan. If anyone interesting comes along, I won’t say no, but I’m not going to actively look for the next month or so. After all, it’s the summer. All I want to worry about is when I’m going to get my next tan, not that my next date will be at The Gentleman’s Club.

I’ve been on a lot of first dates. I’m not sure the number will phase many of you – over 35 – but that’s in just 3 years with a few mini-relationships here and there. And the sad thing is, after a while, all these dates start to blur together. Sometimes I can’t tell apart the JP Morgans from the Morgan Stanleys. The Adams from the Davids. The Murray Hill boys from the Upper East Siders. Everyone loves their family, football, movies, and a good Sunday brunch. They frequent bars on the Lower East Side and watch The Office and Parks and Rec. And beer. All guys love their beer.

To be fair, I’m sure guys who date a lot would say the same about the female dating pool. I bet we all have similar names, work in media, marketing, or fashion, and live in Murray Hill or the East Village. And wait, don’t tell me. We all like sushi. Right?

This my friends, is what I call Groundhog’s Date. It’s just like the movie, except no guy is ever as funny as Bill Murray, and instead of “I’ve Got You Babe” all I have in my head is “Call Me Maybe.” 75% of the time the first date goes something like this. We meet at a bar at agreed time/date. The conversation starts off with the basics: our jobs, where we live, where we are from. I order a vodka soda with lime. We share our stories about how we landed in NYC. We order a second round of drinks. Discuss the fun topics like movies/TV, vacation plans, hobbies, yada, yada, yada. Then the check comes. I offer to pay my share, but he politely declines. We say goodnight and part ways…

Guy after guy, date after date, it all ends up becoming a hazy memory. When I go on a sequence of first dates it’s like I’m operating in autopilot, knowing exactly what to expect, what to say, which outfit to wear. But every once in awhile, I’ll find myself on a date halfway through my first drink and I suddenly realize I’m waking up. Maybe I’m laughing, smiling, flipping my hair. And hell, I might even be having fun. And maybe, at least for a little while, it feels like I’m not stuck in Groundhog’s Day.