Tag Archives: hangover

Top 10 Things You Should NOT Bring to a First Date

27 Feb

You're selling yourself, not a car.

Having covered what to bring to a first date in a previous post, it’s time we turn to the things you should leave at home. Do NOT bring:

  1. Your best friend(s). Seriously, unless this was discussed beforehand and both parties co-signed the master agreement to bring people from their life to a romantic screening, do abstain from this terribly ill-advised idea. This goes without saying for most people, but you’d be surprised. Any good reason to bring a friend on a first date (the guy looks might be the Lopper, has a strange lisp/hunch/googly eyes suggesting a troll) questions why you’d want to be on that date in the first place. Any bad reason (vetting, insecurity, social experiment/”punking”) is just rude. Leave ‘em at home.
  2.  A hangover/alcohol poisoning. Yes, just because you foolishly scheduled a Sunday morning date after a Saturday-night bender doesn’t mean you should teetotal your way through a night out with friends. But if you care at all about the person you’re meeting the following day, you might want to eschew the riskier side of your raging behavior: funnels, keg stands, beer before liquor, hard drugs, questionable drunk food, etc. It might make for a good blog post later, but it won’t impress your date when you’re regurgitating last night’s dinner on his brand new loafers.
  3. A stick up your ass. You’ve already checked the mirror twice. Your hair and makeup look great. If you’re a guy, your eyebrows are in arch-ready mode. You smell good and your breath is impeccable. Now put you hands behind you and run them down your spine to your butt, verifying that there’s not any discernible objects sticking out of it. If there is, pull it out and discard it or, if you’re really attached, wrap it, wash it, and save it for non-date night.
  4. The keys to your “Beamer.” You might be driving to your date, in which case it’s perfectly legitimate to have your car keys with you. But whatever you do, do NOT casually play with them or drop them on the bar/table in front of your date. You might be the type of guy who likes to dangle his keys out of sheer habit, but the girl next to you will very likely assume that you’re douching off. Play it safe.
  5. An extremely elaborate, 2-hour story. Everyone loves a good story, and there’s no better way to kick off a real conversation between two people than exchanging some personal experiences. But no matter how awesome that time you got lost in the woods for a week was, or the full transcript of the lecture on macrobiotic nutrition you just attended, keep in mind that your date may have something interesting to say as well. Do not monopolize the conversation. If you need an audience for your monologues, write a one-man show or troll some online forums.
  6. Your racial fetish. Maybe you’ve got yellow/jungle/vanilla (?) fever. Alright, it’s not the worst affliction; in fact, it might be really fun. But the girl/guy you’re going out with likely doesn’t want to be thought of as a fetish (unless, of course, both parties are on the same page from the start). They probably want to be appreciated for their brilliance, wit, charm, and passions and not the color of their skin or the curvature of their nose. Save it for the 36th date.
  7. Heels. Why, girls. …Why?
  8. Dishonest profiles/photos. One of the most common complaints you’ll hear from women is that guys lie about their height. It is understandable that when it comes to a measurable asset that can immediately disqualify a guy from consideration, he might be tempted to “pad his resume” an inch or two. Personally, I find this pretty tacky, but if a one-inch lie can produce an amazing connection, who’s to judge. One of the most common complaints you’ll hear from both genders is that people post deceptive photos. Not much you can do here. You can put your best face on, but there is no sense at using crazy angles, concealing missing limbs, etc. If you want your partner to be comfortable with who you are you have to show that you’re comfortable with it first and foremost
  9.  “Mickeys.” Guys, no. If you’re going to Roofie someone, Roofie yourself. Your date may need a little “inspiration” to get more affectionate, and a nice bottle of wine along with some impressively obscure verse does just fine, but she’s not looking for “aggressive seduction.”
  10. A wedding ring. Whatever your reasons (you’re already in love and bent on proposing/you forgot to take off your wedding ring before going on a pre-affair screening date), you should probably polish that ring and leave it at home. Girls might want to see it at some point, but a cocktail and some trail mix will do for now.

My Boozy Valentine’s: Keeping It in the Family

16 Feb

It Can Always Be Worse

Yesterday was post-Valentine’s Day, the aptly named Hump Day for those of you not occupying your local Wall Street! As you woke up from your chocolate/obligatory sex hangover (or that pitcher of loneliness and vodka punch you brewed after falling asleep in front of a Glee/New Girl double feature…or whatever you kids TiVo these days), I reflected on an epic Tuesday night spent with my greatest current love…my parents. In the spirit of cheese and alternative interpretations of Valentine’s (read: I don’t have a date and want to have a normal Tuesday, except everything I do will be interpreted as an attempt to compensate for not having a date and feigning indifference even though my soul is crying, but I really truly don’t care even though I can’t definitively prove it to the world and damn it there’s no winning here) …where was I? Oh yeah, so I decided to  invite my parents to the movies. For one, I felt bad about neglecting them of late (full disclosure: like any good Russian Jew, I live in the same county as Mom and Dad), plus my dad has had some tough medical issues to deal with in the short term, so I decided a little quality time was in order.

Of course, Tuesdays means Optimum Rewards Day for Mom and Dad (apparently Cablevision/Optimum entice customers by giving away movie tickets for Tuesday matinees), so I decided to take them up on a long-standing offer to use one and finally see The Descendants. I sprinted from my office, high atop MSG, while the latest episode of Linsanity  heroics was streaming live from Toronto, to Clearview Chelsea Cinemas. With only minutes until previews began, my dad was sweetly waiting by the ticket taker with my comp ticket. I grabbed it and advised him of the “will call” option. We entered a barely half-full theater (the beauty of an early-evening show on a random weeknight). My parents reserved two short rows (including a full row just to myself). I was told to sit in the corner with the boys (my dad and his friend Ed). My offer to go buy some popcorn was immediately waived off. Mom and Dad smiled slyly at each other.

“Trust me,” their faces said in unison.

I complied and sat down. As soon as the lights dimmed and the first trailer lit the screen bright green, an unidentified hand proffered a foil-wrapped package over my shoulder. I wasn’t there to ask questions, especially when starving. The package revealed a cheese sandwich. Next came a little squeeze bottle of Purell®. Wrong  sequence, I thought, bits of whole wheat and Danish cheese falling from my mouth, but again I dared not question it. I scarfed down the cheese sandwich and had my next question answered before I completed the thought as another foil package was extended to me—this time it was a delicious chicken cutlet with a sweet honey glaze. Then I heard Ed’s voice summoning me from behind:

“Cognac or vodka?”

Now, normally, this is a very welcome ritual, and a familiar one from several yacht outings I’ve been invited to by my dad and his friend. But I’d never expected him to bring a portable bar to the movies. Suddenly my mom’s guilty smiles and broken insinuations upon entering made sense. I refused but Ed wasn’t having it. I wondered if I’d been assigned to the men’s corner to normalize this behavior. Without hesitation, I took the rather elegant shot glass and downed what turned out to be a pretty damn rarefied and tasty cognac (and I’m no fiend). Ed was ready to pour another but I preempted him, prompted by visions of narcolepsy cutting short a movie I actually wanted to be awake for.

I’m not sure what happened behind me for the next 2 hours. Suffice it to say I’d be shocked if Dad and Ed had any intention to come home with cognac in their pockets. Toward the end of this somewhat underwhelming Alexander Payne flick, I heard some sobs from the back and thought they were coming from Ed. It turned out to be my poor dad. When we left, my mom was visibly upset and scolded both me and herself for bringing someone about to undergo neurosurgery to a movie whose plot surrounds a woman vegetating in a hospital. “At least it wasn’t a documentary about tumors,” I unhelpfully offered.

Complimenting the child actors’ performances, we walked out into another cold New York evening, and strolled leisurely toward the subway past half-empty restaurants, against a stream of rushing girls, faces glued to their smartphones, and dudes last-minute-shopping for sex-salvaging flowers.