“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.

Once upon a 100hookup, I was out at a really cool speakeasy in the Lower East Side with a guy who was just my type. We were having a good time – I was actually laughing at what he was saying, not just my own ridiculous stories. He was starting to tell me that he recently took a salsa dancing class and suggested we go. I laughed it off assuming he meant at another time, but he kept talking about it.

“We should go salsa dancing,” he said.
“Now?” Uhh, seriously?
“Yeah. I know a great place. Or we can go to that bar you mentioned in Chinatown.”
“Let’s go to the bar. It’s called Apotheke,” I said. Crisis averted.

To be fair, salsa dancing is a good idea for a date – just not a first date. First dates are about getting to know someone – NOT going salsa dancing so your date can show off what they learned at a lesson they bought on Groupon. But once I got him to Apotheke, the date started to rebound. This was the first time I had fun on a date in a while. I started to relax and let my guard down when out of left field he says, “After this we should go salsa dancing.”

I should have left when I had the chance.

“Not tonight. Maybe another time,” I offered.
“No problem. Let’s go to another bar.”
I froze. ALERT! STAGE FIVE CLINGER!
“Ready to go?” he asked.

Yeah. Home! I panicked. This guy was not going to let me go easy. It was a salsa dancing or bust. I stared down at my phone to look at the time to stall and think of a plan. Instead of thinking of a polite way to excuse myself, I panicked.

“Oh no! My roommate just texted me. She forgot her keys and is locked out of our apartment.” This wasn’t a total lie. My roommate did actually get locked out…it just happened to be the week before.

As soon as we walked out onto Canal Street, a cab pulled up and I hopped in. I barely had a chance to wave goodbye. It wasn’t quite the graceful exit I hope I usually pull off on a bad date, and certainly not my proudest moment. Had Mr. Salsa Dancer and I parted ways after the first bar, he would have absolutely gotten a second date. But no. He came on so strong in the first date that he actually scared me off. Since then, I’ve tried to take what I learned that night to prevent it from ever happening again. I even created a rule about it: Thou shall only go to one bar on the first date, unless they want to risk exposure to a Stage Five Clinger Salsa Dancer Who Just Can’t Take a Hint. Don’t let it happen to you.

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.

Rule #1 of dating in NYC: Do not take your date to the Village Pourhouse. Do not even give her/him the option of the Village Pourhouse. Don’t even mention that you go to the Village Pourhouse or similar establishments.

This isn’t a difficult thing to avoid. While the Village Pourhouse is best known for a good time (if you can remember it), cheap beers, beer pong, and a young crowd, it’s not known for being a place of romance. That is, unless your idea of romance is making out in a dark corner with a stranger only to ask, “Are you on Facebook?” Now, I’ve never been asked to go to the Village Pourhouse on a first date, or any date for that matter. But my BFF recently went out with a guy whose first option was the Village Pourhouse. She convinced him to go elsewhere, and needless to say, the date sucked before it even began.

I appreciate when guys take into account convenience, noise level, seating (ie. not side-by-side, really that’s just awkward), and menu. You can’t go wrong with a wine or cocktail bar – lots of options and usually a nice, low-key ambiance. I also find it appealing to not have to fear for my life on my way to a date. One guy failed to mention that the bar he picked directly overlooks the East River. This meant I would have to walk across the FDR highway, behind abandoned buildings, decorated with graffiti and broken bottles on the ground. As I walked there, I whispered to myself, “I am not going to die. I am not going to die.” And trust me, if I did die, they would have never found my body.

Honestly, there are so many options in big cities like NYC. And if you can’t think of a place, ask a friend for suggestions. Give your date options so you’re both comfortable. And whatever you do, I beg you: do not make your date fear for their life or even think about the Village Pourhouse. Ever.

I have gone out on a lot of first dates with women whom I have met online during the past 6-months and it was during my most recent date that it occurred to me: I tell certain stories, and facts about myself, that I almost always divulge during the course of a date. Whenever I’m on a date where we go out to eat I always mention before we order that 1. I like to share food, and 2. The story of how I became a College Basketball Coach (which is completely fine-tuned). I also tend to break out the same stories when asked about my family, college, close friends or job. While I don’t try to necessarily steer the conversation toward these topics the way a politician might try to control the course of an interview so that it best fits the prepared answers they are most confident with, many first dates involve similar questions and topics of conversation.

Personally I think that there’s anything wrong with retelling many of the same stories, or sharing the same personal information on each first date, since everyone is going to react with differently. Furthermore, how a date will react upon learning these things about me isn’t always the same, and therefore the conversation might take any number of turns at that point, including them asking me more questions on the subject, sharing their own similar stories or changing the topic of conversation all together.

Some might view this approach with skepticism and believe that my general demeanor on first dates is apathetic or even condescending, but I would respond by saying that first dates are introductions and there are only so many things you are going to say during that first meeting. For me it is important that I always feel comfortable during a first date, and will often go with the natural flow of conversation. Of course, having this approach means that I tell many of the same stories and facts about myself since I know going into the date that I’m comfortable saying those things to pretty much anyone. From there, how much more in depth I talk about my life depends on how the date is going and whether or not during the course of our interaction I feel comfortable enough to let more stories and facts about me naturally flow out.