New York Post Meet Market: Like To Exercise? These Guys Will Give You A Good Sprint

The Best Dating Column in New York.
(because both the Daily News and the New York Times don't have one! hahahaha!)

(FYI - Mr. Murdoch, you'll owe me a commission if you use that as a tagline.)

I have to eat my words from last week, as I predicted that Boris and Michelle would mix like pig and elephant DNA. Well, it seems that Boris was just being self-deprecating when he said that he cannot ably smalltalk, as Michelle says:

Michelle: We talked for so long that the restaurant started to close.

Arrgh! I fucked up. Boris is not death warmed over. He's actually quite lively and entertaining - and entertainable:

Boris: When we left, I offered to go for a walk, not wanting our date to end. To my pleasure, she suggested that we stop by a karaoke bar-another "first" for me. Afterward, I walked her home and we talked for an hour before she went up.

Well, I'm just happy that it worked out after all. I'll accept being wrong if it means others are finding romance.

One thing I wasn't wrong about, though, was the resemblance to Finch from American Pie:

Boris: Our goodbye was physically indeterminate. First-date semantics are uncomfortable to me. What's expected can never be as exciting as the unknown.

I've read clinical papers about pus formations that were more romantic than that quote.

Moving along - Amanda is our date chooser for next week. She is certainly familiar around these parts - she was one of my potential choices for my date courtesy of the Post! I think she's a fine choice for a date (although I had a great time with Shevi, the initial choice I had was VERY difficult to make), and I'm glad to see her reappear here. I have not a single concern about her ability to be a lovely companion for a romantic evening.

That said, the types of guys that are going to work best for her are the ones who have the most in common with her interests. She's young and she likes to have fun. She more than likely spends a lot of social time at bars and clubs. She would do best with a guy who isn't too stuffy, boring, or pig-headed. Will that be a tall task with our selections? We'll find out...

Roberto is a bartender who's trying to be an actor. He pirates movies from China. He practices yoga. He can tell you the time of day... without a watch!

What are three things you cannot live without? Acai berries, a double-hinged wine key and Istara cheese.

I've honestly never heard of any of these things. To sum it up:

I make almost no sense at all.

Agreed.

At least Roberto fesses up to having a side job, though. Jake wears his "actor/writer" profession with a straight face! Do you think Jake has the chops to work full time in the entertainment field? Let's grab some quotables to get a better idea:

What's sexy? ... A girl who not only holds up her end of the conversation, but can also throw in some great stories is well on her way to becoming a sexy beast.

How would you describe yourself? I am a damn fine individual.

Hooray for the not-quite-starving artist.

I'm also not bad looking. Sauce.

...no screamings, beatings or stabbings.

Folks, we have tight competition for the Freak Award here. Let's keep going.

Our last choice is Joshua. And... he's a nanny. I've heard of male nurses, but male nannies? Well, maybe there's some precedent.

What does your lucky underwear look like? I don't wear underwear. Really, I don't. But, if I did, it would have bunnies all over them.

I just don't know what to say now. Except this: Amanda is screwed.

All three of these guys are exceedingly quirky yet rather genial-looking, so it's hard to get an idea of who is really best for Amanda. In the end, based on profession and profile, it looks like Jake's the guy who uses his sense of humor in his profession best, and that probably makes him richer than the other guys. Since most of you readers are heading out to the Hamptons this weekend, you know that's of highest importance. So Jake it is.

Enjoy the holiday weekend, and we'll be back next week to see, after all that time at the gym doing cardio, how fast Amanda can run.

New York Times Modern Love: Bad "Pick-Up" Lines

I've been hitching since its heyday when I was a teenager... and I've made it to middle age without any traumatic experience of hitchhiking that would alter my behavior.

That's the nut of Jessica Krasilovsky's ode to hitchhiking. This deconstruction will be brief, as the essay fits in two easy parts, neither of which contains much in the way of useful romantic substance beyond your typical Readers' Digest essay.

(That's probably the worst insult I've ever dropped on anyone here at The Lectern. And that's saying something.)

The first half of the essay is a collection of musings about the social aspects of hitchhiking. I'd love to have a discussion about this, but we're supposed to be talking about love/dating here and there's hardly a whiff of it in this section of the essay. This would have been great for the "Lives" column in the Magazine, and I'm almost positive that this essay would have been submitted for that column on a secondary basis (if it wasn't the primary target for this essay from the beginning).

The second half is a description of a stronger personal relationship than anything described previously. Some unnamed, grey-haired, Richard Gere look-alike with a permanently raised arm is the target of affection. (No hamster jokes here.) Jessica describes how she meets him, talks with him, deconstructs him, spends some quality time with him... and then leaves to go back to her life in NYC. Oh, how nice. It's love as a transient emotion, which is seemingly justified in the context of adventure.

Love is not a transient emotion, though, and only people who watch Hollywood westerns would buy into the concept that there is enough honor in being adventurous to overcome the weakness of being noncommittal. Jessica accepts abandoning established acquaintances as a necessary condition of meeting new people. Or, maybe she keeps her distance and likes it that way, and we're supposed to accept that because she's a free bird. Whether or not you, as a reader, agree that this is any way to live or conduct your personal relationships, I simply note that there are ethical concerns when it comes to plumbing people's emotions for your own fascination when you cannot or will not reciprocate. I assume that she does not have much to say to others before she leaves, because she said not much about herself in this essay before she left us, either.

Actually, that's a good thing. She presents the first Modern Love essay in a while where the author was merely an observer and not the masked, self-obsessed subject. And, as much as I disagree with her transient approach to bonding with others, she does make earnest attempts to understand the people with whom she interacts. That's a departure for this column, and I suppose it's a welcome one. It didn't come without compromise, but then again, compromise is often a condition of Modern Love...

New York Post Meet Market: When You're Smiling... Keep On Smiling... The Whole World Smiles With You...

It's Sunday, which means it's time for Meet Market to catch up on last week's daters

And now it's Tuesday, which means I have to check in on this clown show and see if Tom and Mackenzie, International Woman of Mystery, are doing their job and slinging a few of Cupid's arrows out into the dating pool - rather than the daggers that most people would rather throw at each other. Isn't romance lovely?

It seems that Mr. Pouty Face Steve got a bad rap last week, because he has a much better demeanor than I attributed to him. He chose Eve and had a wonderful time with her. All the more that it was a mistake to have a flat expression for his dater photo. It's okay to look bored if you live your life bored; at least that's truthful. It's unfortunate, though, if you enjoy the company of others but cannot convey that in your dating profile.

People, if you spend more than 10 minutes putting together your resume, you should put at least that much time preparing your materials for your dating profile! That's the other half of your life, after all! And if I've said that before, it's worth repeating.

Anyway, quotables:

Steve: When Eve walked in, my first thought was that her photo didn't do her justice.

Well, at least that first date was good, Steve. Because Eve's going to think twice about a second one after that remark. I know it was meant to be a compliment, but it never comes out that way. Ever.
(I myself have been tripped up over this - just not publicly in the New York Post, which makes it worse!)

Eve: I was very relieved when I saw a handsome man waiting for me, and knew I could ditch my escape plan.

Escape plan! I love it! I envision rescue helicopters with rope ladders swooping in to take Eve away if Steve even does so much as pick his nose! Of course, we've seen what happens when you have a poorly formed escape plan, so I prefer a prepared approach to a hasty exit.

In any case, they like each other. Score one for the Post. Yay!

Our next dater - made from 100% Recycled dating pool stock - is Boris, who was the other guy who lost out to King Worst Matt for the chance to date Queen Worst Liberal Leslie. I think Boris reads The Lectern, because he's seemed to have taken my advice:

Ahhh, poor Boris. Fix up the profile and you'll be a winner, trust me.

Well, his profile is a lot better now, so I guess he's ready for action.

(I didn't get a chance to somehow work in the joke about Boris looking like a cross between Dracula and Finch from American Pie. Sorry readers, I'm not my sharpest this week. I promise I'll do better in the future.)

Our first potential match for Boris is Michelle, standing in the attractive hands-on-hips pose that Jen Dziura so skillfully mocked when she guest-authored.

I've been known to order mojitos, caipirinhas and lychee martinis in certain settings.

I guess she doesn't hang out at Hogs and Heifers, eh?

Your ideal date? A fantastic dinner followed by a fantastic concert. You saw that one coming, didn't you? I'm a simple girl.

Minor qualm: how simple is it to set up a fantastic dinner with fantastic concert seats? Not simple at all. You can't even figure out the Ticketmaster convenience charges without having your CPA on-hand. But I do get the message. She likes the usual activities. (She mentioned karaoke earlier, too.) She'd do well with a light-hearted and compassionate guy. I think Boris is a little too heavy for Michelle, which is unfortunate because they both look like nice people. Next please.

Rebecca is our second choice and is a teacher like Boris. Seems like a good start.

What do you like to do when you're not working? I have a lot of answers to this - reading heavy books like Proust or Tolstoy, grilling swordfish or roasting vegetables, seeing movies at BAM or hanging out in Prospect Park with a picnic; hatching incredible plans in the living room with some friends and a few drinks.

You know what? She looks great for Boris. She's a nice woman and seems to be balanced quite well to fit with his demeanor. Oooh, I'm excited!

Our final choice is Sabre, an attorney. No relation to Sabre from American Gladiators.

How would you describe yourself? I am warm, funny, interesting and intelligent.

I'm waiting for the day when I see someone answer this with the words "cold bitch." I will likely need to clean up a lot of coffee off the wall in the back of my computer monitor if that ever happens.

I can charm the pants off of anyone!

Such modesty. But you know you won't be wearing pants at the end of the night, so it all works out. Sabre's not a bad girl to have around, but she can't win this contest:

If we were to ask your best friend about what kind of person they'd like to see you end up with, what would they say? A smart, funny intellectual; a guy who enjoys the nightlife and is always up for an adventure. Someone who has an open mind and something interesting to say.

Bad match for Boris, who is bad at smalltalk. Sometimes a match between two good people just cannot work. Sorry, Sabre.

The easy pick is Rebecca. Everything's looking rosy for her and Boris to go out and have a lovely time together, and perhaps spark some romance along the way. The polls are going with Michelle, which is a nice vote of confidence for her, but I explained above why that ultimately wouldn't work out. Also, most of the pollsters haven't been analyzing this column for a year. I have. Who would you rather listen to? (I thought so.)

New York Times Modern Love: Where There's Smoke, There's Fire

"I'd never date a smoker," she said, "much less marry one."

And off we go on a rolling start to Hyla Sabesin Finn's piece on being married to a smoker. You might wonder how a writer could squeeze 1700 words out of this particular topic, but in the end it's an easy narrative: her husband lies as often as he lights up, apparently.

It would have been folly for Hyla to try to enumerate each instance of a falsehood or broken promise on behalf of Larry, but I counted in this essay no less than eight egregious incidents where Larry did not keep his word. Most men don't get past three. The ones that do tend to go on forever lying, which is why it's remarkable that the essay ends with him finally living up to his commitments.

Then again, these aren't ordinary lies. He's just trying to kick a bad habit, and earnestly. Which begs the question, why is Hyla so dramatic about it? She essentially asks the same thing herself:

The truth is that Larry was completely supportive. When I wanted to move closer to my parents, he agreed. When I wanted to start a business, he said, "Go for it." And what about those extra 19 pounds back when I had them? He never noticed. Why couldn't I accept him as he accepted me, flaws and all?

The confict here is that Hyla herself knows that she's nitpicking - that perhaps she's making a mountain out of a molehill. After all, although smoking can be an obnoxious habit, Larry is generally on his best behavior. Sure, it would be preferrable for him to quit entirely, but as the essay goes on you wonder how Larry's sneaking around has any impact on Hyla other than on her own neurosis.

The funny thing about the end of the essay is that Hyla quits herself ("the nagging", she states) but in the end no longer has this nag to drag around, as Larry finally quit smoking successfully. Do we get to judge Hyla, now, for keeping her own promise? Of course not; she's the author! She's not going to admit that nagging itself was so addictive that now, perhaps, she's moved onto Larry's inside-out socks in the laundry as her new nag target. Maybe Larry can provide a rebuttal in a future column! "I stopped smoking, she didn't stop complaining."

(Larry, that's what happens when you chase underage tail in college. You get a nag. Meat Loaf wrote a song about it. It's cheesy, but true.)

Moving away from these two individuals, this essay is framed by a larger discussion about the role of smoking in relationships and society. It is depicted as a social scourge, which is only half the story. What Hyla won't tell you - actually, she scorns the concept when she catches Larry "huddling pathetically with a puffing posse" - is that smoking is considered a social habit by those who partake in it. Now that society at large has scorned smoking as a disgusting and intolerable habit, smokers bond even more tightly together over their shared indulgence while the rest of society struggles with detachment problems. For every girl like Hyla who is grossed out by guys smoking outside the bar, there's another pack-a-day girl who's looking to talk to cute guys in the smoking circle. It's not a valid reason to deteriorate your own health, but it certainly invalidates the argument that smoking is truly unacceptable behavior. Only some people find it that repulsive.

Although our author is conflicted, it's merely because she ponders her inability to compromise as the counterpoint to her disgust of the habit itself. So, here we have another self-aggrandizing tale where the author never takes a step back to try to reach an understanding of another person's approach to life and relationships. In the scope of this essay, Hyla's obsession with Larry's smoking eventually overreaches any pragmatic issues that might come of his habit. Had she been less stubborn and closed-minded, Larry wouldn't have needed to break promises - and, with better support from Hyla, he might have successfully quit earlier, too.

Ah well, par for the course.

New York Post Meet Market: Would It Kill You To Smile?

We're back to the normal routine with Meet Market this week: I'm not in the column anymore, there are no guest bloggers, the date setup was unsucessful, and next week's doesn't look so good either. Ahhh, this state of affairs is like an old pair of slippers... so familiar, so comfortable...

Jannie wisely chose Igwe for her date, as he was pretty much the best of the bunch in terms of romantic potential. The crowd didn't see it that way (70% for Tyrone), but if anyone knew anything at all about dating, we'd all be married already.

Unwisely, Jannie wasn't so enthusiastic about Igwe:

I have to say that I don't think there was really any major spark between us - just good conversation. Also, I don't know if I am ready to take the plunge into a new relationship, as I am starting school in September.

Arrgh! And to make things worse, Igwe was mostly enthusiastic:

She is pretty close to the total package.

In the end, though, I think this is for the best. Igwe himself really isn't the total package, and neither is Jannie. Our unintentionally hilarious quote of the week shows why:

One issue I had with Jannie was that she didn't seem very politically aware, which is a sticking point with me. I told her that I was a communist and she didn't really know what that was.

Communist! You red-faced no-good Yakov-Smirnoff-loving traitor! I thought Rocky Balboa got rid of you guys in the 80's! Is it not enough to be a Democrat liberal anymore? Even funnier, she had no idea what he's talking about. I mean, she's only 22, but how does she not know? They were pointing nukes at us for only about... um, 40 years! Back to grade-school history class for you, young Jannie!

Our picker for next week is Steve, who's been seen around these parts before, and has even been recommended (to date Queen Worst Liberal Leslie - I guess it's good he got passed over for that one). Even though I've recommended him in the past, I've changed my mind. Here's the reason: see that picture in his profile? He's not smiling. I can tell you firsthand, they ask you to smile when they take those pictures. The fact that he's wearing a bored look on his face - combined with a couple of his profile answers that reveal his hipster entertainment tastes - makes me think that he's not a warm, down-to-earth person. He's matchable, certainly, but I wouldn't set up any of my female friends with Mr. Pouty Face.

Of our potential daters, here's the breakdown:
* Samantha is a very emotional and down-to-earth person. Magic 8 Ball: Outlook not so good.
* Eve is a Red Sox fan. Forget it! They're even worse than Communists!
* Becky has hipster-ish tastes. And she's the last one in the room. (For guys, that's a perfect reason to get romantic with someone)

So, Becky it is! And the polls agree, she's winning with a nearly 47% plurality victory as of Tuesday. And I sincerely hope that Mr. Pouty Face agrees.

Signing out!

New York Times Modern Love: The Upcoming Major Motion Picture Starring Kate Hudson and Josh Duhamel

This week's Modern Love is a rare treat - a story that involves failed love, a meddlesome author, and a happy ending. I'm going to make sure the world knows right now: at 3:15 on August 13, 2005, I predicted that this essay would get made into a chick-flick. It's too perfect not to be. It is hopelessly romantic to the 10th power.

I commend the author, Kirsten Allen Major, for writing an essay notable for the fact that, like a few other rare Modern Love essays, this story is not at all about her. Certainly, she had the chance to break out her own feelings on romance beyond three paragraphs, but instead she decides to play the role of hopeful and helpful bystander, hardly innocent but certainly well-intentioned.

...or maybe not. Good intentions are sometimes soured with selfish motives and self-importance. In the major twist that drives the main plot to its resolution, she takes a foolhardy chance in trying to establish a love connection that had failed to sustain itself organically. It's evident she decided to do this because she was completely sure that she was right. Oh, what blind arrogance! While she gets to be the hero of our happy ending, she also had felt the kickback from her own hubris right as her friend Krista discovers Kirsten's own trickery:

The lunacy of what I'd done suddenly descended upon me. I had not liberated love; I'd created a new opportunity for her to suffer. Who does something like this? I wasn't a saint; I was insane.

So do we forgive her for being sinuous merely because everything worked out in the end? Of course! I don't have the time to hold grudges on Sundays! All is good, Kirsten. You will be played by a major Hollywood star someday!

As for the relationship itself... well, one thing's for sure: Marcus has commitment issues. You think? Two broken engagements with the same girl, and he's lucky to still have both his testicles. Ahh, but Krista's so nice and gentle:

...she was a serious Christian to my skittish heathen, with a mother who expressed hopes that she find "a nice Christian boy"... soon I found myself liking her: she was intelligent, vulnerable and kind.

Therefore, we can expect her to be a good sport about repeatedly getting screwed over in the romance department. (What excellent character development! Love this script, baby! Have my people call your people, we'll do lunch!)

The story is actually rather thin: Krista's afraid to talk to Marcus, her true love. Kirsten gets involved and tells Marcus how Krista really feels. (Krista, Kirsten, Krista, Kirsten, Krista, Kirsten... I'm dizzy.) Krista finds out, somehow doesn't go berserk. Marcus finally finds Krista, they get married, we never find out if Kirsten gets any quality ass in the meantime, the end. There's some good framing and fleshing, though. For example, Krista tries dating another guy, but it doesn't work. Kirsten finds enough detail to keep the story moving along without becoming inane or moving off-topic, as some of the authors in this column have done before.

It's a great story, solidly written, with no truly egomaniacal streaks in the narration, and it even has the ending scene written cleanly and concisely:

Their wedding took place several months later and I wept through the entire ceremony.

Two thumbs up!

New York Post Meet Market: If You Obsessively Read Meet Market For A Year, Your Dates Will Be Great, Too!

So, how the hell did my date turn out?

Once again we turn to the always hilarious, side-splitting, guffaw-inducing Jen Dziura. Seriously, she's funny. Real funny.
(have you guessed yet that I'm about to publish something that hits a little close to home? Well, that was sort of the point of this exercise anyway. Well that, and to convince my extended family that I do indeed date women, just infrequently.)

Anyway, all opinions to follow belong to Jen and not myself. You might find them funny. I didn't!

This week's Post dating roundup reads like the "What I Did Last Summer" essay I wrote in Mrs. Everhart's third-grade class, which I have taken the liberty to include for you here:

I like my grandma. She is nice. I visited her. That is in Ohio. It was hot. But fun. We ate pie.
- Jenny Dziura

One might attribute the milquetoast blandness of this column to the fact of this being the most over-documented date in the history of dating. For the date, Brian chose 28 year old editor Shevi, also my suggestion from my review last week here on the Lectern. So far, so good -- until Shevi realized, as she undoubtedly did at some point in the evening, that this was a "date" on which the Post was trying to impress Brian, all while Brian was trying to impress his readers, and that she had essentially walked into someone else's sick media clusterfuck.

The column begins:

"USUALLY, we don't get nervous before we send our couples out on a date - but this time we did. You see, Brian, last week's bachelor, writes a blog devoted to analyzing The New York Post's fabulous Meet Market column. It was like we were being rated!"

It is unclear whether the "fabulous" is the Meet Market column's own impression of itself, or whether this view has been attributed to Brian's blog via the mere existence of Brian's blog, rather than any explicit statement of fabulousness therein.

Shevi's review follows. "I got to Paris Match first. It is a small, candlelit, wood-paneled bistro with an atmosphere as flowing as the Seine."

"An atmosphere as flowing as the Seine." Can you imagine dating this girl? Dear Brian, I cannot see you anymore. Though our love has been bountiful like the Mekong in monsoon season, our future is waning like a Gibbous moon.

She continues, guardedly: "Within seconds, we started talking about Brian's blog. As dinner progressed, we talked about our jobs and aspirations, and places we'd traveled." She ends "I really enjoyed meeting Brian and sharing a summer evening of excellent conversation and food with him."

Uh-huh. This is why reality television shows contractually obligate people to get into hot tubs together.

It seems a bother to even quote Brian here, since his account of this date is clearly crafted to win the favor of the readership on this blog, and is also lacking in hot-tubbing: "Shevi is a very attractive lady, and was graceful throughout the evening.... She showed a genuine interest in my conversation points, and she spoke with confidence and clarity when I asked her questions about her background and interests.... I'd absolutely take Shevi out on a future date, romantic or casual."

These reviews contain all the personality and verve of a thank you note I'd write to an elderly relative for sending me a small appliance on my birthday.

The only sensible conclusion to draw from these mutually bland reviews is that our daters, in the face of media scrutiny, spent their date developing a strategy of calculated misinformation, hastily scribbled these reviews (each approved by the other) on wine lists stolen from Paris Match, and went home together, happy to live in a world in which "shared a cab to the West Side and then exchanged contact information" can also mean "hit it from the back all night long."

Or else these are two really, really boring people.

Your call.


I'm appalled! First, it's a family paper, they had to leave out the stuff about the agressive footsie and the body shots. Second, you totally forgot to make fun of me for looking like a 16-year-old in this week's picture. You dropped the ball on that one!

Okay, it's not true that there was any footsie or body shots. We just talked. Nothing happened afterward. And you know what? That was by design. My idea of a romantic evening doesn't include a sloppy, forced hookup in the back of a cab after dessert while there's still creme brulee smeared on our cheeks. No, I just wanted to play it cool and gentlemanly. And it worked. I liked her, she liked me, we gave each other four hearts for a total of eight hearts altogether. Why ya gotta hate?

Plus, if you haven't looked, a whopping 96.1% of voters say we should go out on another date! And no, that's not a result of my mom rigging the poll.

Shevi - nice work. Jen - bite me.

Moving back into the normal routine, this week's featured dater is Jannie, who... well, let's have Mackenzie, International Woman of Mystery*, do the description for us:

...a beautiful nursing student who enjoys photography, operatic singing, and cooking soul food.
...likes to go to lounges, spas and comedy shows - and sing in her church choir.
...describes herself as "a high-energy person that loves to laugh, love and eat."
...prefers belly dancing and vinyasa yoga to keep herself in shape.
...(thinks that) sexy is a man with tattoos, "one or two are a plus," and someone who "has an effortless beauty, with classic style and a humanitarian spirit."

In essence, she's a nice girl who is talented, pretty, and limber. She also has an edge, but it's adventurous-edgy. (not slutty-edgy) I think she's fantastic. Are any of her three male choices just as spectacular?

First, we have Igwe. He's nice. Not a lot of room for humor or criticism here. I suppose that's a good thing. He's a poet/writer; keep that in mind, because it makes him creative but it also means he makes a peanut salary unless he's a best-seller. Quotables:

What do you think of the New York dating scene? There are a lot of silly, silly girls. I don't mind, I have a good sense of humor; but it's hard to take them seriously.

Silly? Maybe. Sounds like a mild euphemism for "evil". Um, Sam, what do you think?

I'll never forgive you! How do you live with yourself?! You never loved me! You used me! I hope you slide under a gas truck and taste your own blood! Why didn't you tell me you were a demon from Hell?!!!! You deserve the men you're gonna meet, you loser! Railroad bums! Transients! Out-of work guys! Guys who're gonna use you like you used me! Guys who are gonna take money out of your purse and crawl out a window! OH! OOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Yeah, dating in New York is kinda tough for some people. But not for Igwe, which makes him a strong contender.

Next, we have Tyrone. He looks like a pretty big guy, and with a title like "Marketing Vice President", he's probably got a big bank account too. But is he as nice and polished as Igwe?

We're buying. What are you drinking? Jack and Coke is the first, second and third drink of choice.

Dating profile lesson: 90% of us in New York may love a good night on the town, but this is the last place that you want to brag about your drinking habits. This line should have been snipped at "Jack and Coke". That said, it's the only thing I can find wrong with his profile. He looks like a great guy. But I'm still leaning toward Igwe.

Finally, we have Ronald, a "retail professional". One thing I watch out for in these profiles is when someone uses an obvious euphemism for their current job titles because they don't want to say something like "cashier" or "photocopier salesman". As much as I admire the attempt to try to pretty up his job title, we can tell he's bullshitting. Bad start. And then there's this:

What do you think of the New York dating scene? I think it is at an all-time low. We are in a confused world right now. Today's woman is nowhere near the woman of yesteryear.

Sounds depressing and pessimistic. And, because all of these guys have pretty decent profiles, it comes down to the little things. Where Ronald is pessimistic, Igwe is carefree. That counts for something. So Ronald is out.

Well, it's down to Tyrone and Igwe, because they both have pretty strong profiles. You think I'm going to choose Igwe, right? Yeah, I am. All other things equal (and positive), Igwe is creative and Tyrone is business-like. Creative is more romantic.

But wait! Tyrone is leading the polls with 70% of the vote! He's got a lead of over 50 points on Igwe? How can this be? Well, for one thing, Tyrone makes good money and hangs at classy places. (I disregarded the name-dropping of all those trendy clubs, obviously the readers didn't.) The other thing might be, and just might be, that Tyrone looks like a big, thick, manly man. Igwe is tall and lanky, and looks like he wouldn't last long in a street fight. These are the sort of things that women say aren't that important, except that womens' actions show that these are the first things they look for. **shrug** Not that it matters; I simply hope for Jannie to make a good choice.

And that's all for now! I'd like to again thank Jen (of jenisfamous.com) for guest blogging and bringing the funny (just kidding about the "bite me" part); Tom and Mackenzie, International Woman of Mystery*, for their hospitality and for having a good sense of humor about this vile, vile blog; and, most of all, I'd like to thank Shevi, who was a delightful companion on our date and didn't judge me for being a juvenile blogger.

Enough sentimentality; come back soon to see who's hooking up, who's hating their dates, and who's having their restaurant cheaply advertised. More fun ahead!

* Mackenzie let me know she prefers that full title over "Mac", which she hates. I will find every excuse in the universe to use it often.

New York Times Modern Love - swf seeks young boys, better therapist

This week's essay is interesting, to say the least.

Spike Gillespie is a 41-year-old Austin-based woman who claims openly to be "at heart... a guy in my 20's." With a name like Spike Gillespie, I would have thought male African-American jazz trumpeter in his 70's, but no matter - all guys are pretty much the same at heart (they love 19-year-old girls, adore fast cars, and despise newspaper sections that make them look like pansies).

Anyway - Spike has a bit of a weird romantic life, and an equally weird style of writing. The first half or third of the essay - and believe me, I really don't want to take the time to measure this - is a declaration by Spike that she will not make another compromise with any man for the sake of a relationship ever again. She then goes on to essentially insist that she's not a lesbian, and establishes the fact with a series of anecdotes about her romantic failures and creepy tastes. In between, she waxes philosophical and ponders her own mission in life.

Uh, BORING.

We're not done yet, though. She pulls out a Nick-Hornby-style Top 5 list, but decides to stop at 11. I'm going to reprint this list here, with some modifications for generality's sake, so that each of you women can print this out, tape it to your bedroom door, and hope and pray that you find a man that meets all of these criteria who isn't a lead actor in a romantic comedy motion picture:

*Loves me.

*Loves my family.

*Shares my preferences for having children.

*Loves sex.

*Does impressive artistic things.

*Isn't an addict.

*Likes to travel.

Good looking.

*Independent.

Monogamous.

*Funny.

We know for a fact that Spike is at least 9 of those things, and I put an asterisk next to each of them. (Monogamous is not a safe bet; good-looking is a matter of your own personal taste.) So, if a guy matches all 11, he's not far off from Spike. Also, his name is John Cusack.

Following along, there's something about a guy named Southpaw Jones, who apparently becomes her romantic interest but then is not, but then becomes a friend. And yes, I'm just as confused from reading the actual article as you are from reading this description so far.

I'm totally missing the point of this essay, other than perhaps it's a chance for Spike to justify an extended slut-phase in a prestigious newspaper. Hey, you don't get a chance to do that too often!

Okay, perhaps that's a bit mean. Spike is not a slut. Maybe she's a cradle robber, but she's not a slut. She has standards, values, and character. Her romantic decisions are generally well-considered, save for this one:

...all I could do was lube myself up with alcohol and fall into bed with one man or another, all of them terribly wrong.

That's hot.

What was I saying? Oh, yeah, she's definitely not a slut.

What do we take away from this as readers? Well, for one thing, stick to dating people your own age so that when you have a romantic catastrophe or two, you can discuss it with peers without looking like a pedophile or a gold-digger. Second, always write newspaper essays in a "conflict-resolution" form, because "conflict-conflict-conflict-conflict" doesn't work at all. Third, don't burn ex-boyfriends' business cards - shredding will suffice. Fourth, the following description:

I have no real desire to marry. I don't want kids. I dress in jeans and flannels. I ogle beautiful young women. I enjoy takeout. I decorate my house with pieces of paper I find on the ground, and most of my furniture comes from the trash.

... is not very convincing if you're trying to insist you're not a lesbian. And, finally, love comes in all forms, even if you have to order the sex on the side. To go.

Bonus: thanks to the powers of the Internet, I present to you http://www.spikeg.com/. You can't say I never did anything for you.

Watch Out. The Stud Train's A Coming.

http://icopythat.blogspot.com/2005/08/internet-stud.html

Thanks to the wonders of referrer links, I've found a potential future Post dater who was scouted off of Friendster, caved into the charms of the Post (now with 100% Rupert!), and decided to blog about it. Hmm, Mackenzie's pretty aggressive, isn't she? Well, she's doing her job, and it's been working out pretty well lately I must say. I mean, she found this guy! He's a stud who likes nose studs! He makes fun of the Post! He's listed on "Hot or Not", which is an even bigger throwback than Friendster! I mean, maybe this guy still uses Altavista and rotary phones, too!

I seriously thought that no milestone at the Lectern could top my appearance in the Meet Market column, but now I've actually made fun of a dater before he even appeared in the column. I could quit now while I'm this far ahead.

(no, I'm not quitting! heh.)

Chad's not so bad - he's just a quirky guy who makes harmless ego jokes - but I have a terrible feeling about what he put on his profile. I hope he realized it'd be used in print, unmodified! In any case, we wait with bated breath for the installment that elevates Chad up to the Pantheon of Post Daters.

Also, rembember to look in this Sunday's Post to see who I chose and how my date went!

Oh and Chad, thanks for the link!

New York Post Meet Market: A Babe, A Bore, and A Blogger

For all the people who tend not to read things that are in print: if you're going to read Meet Market any time in your life, this might be the week to do it. We're peaking, baby. Let's roll:

Leslie chose Matt, but for the love of God I don't know why. She absolutely HATED him. She holds nothing but complete disgust for him, and it's mutual too. People have been buzzing to me all weekend that this date was an absolute trainwreck. Lately I've been pretty high on Tom & Mac, but even they have to be cringing at this setup. I guess my job is to try and figure out what went wrong.

Leslie: "Matt was already at Cascina when I arrived."

Matt: "...she walked in 15 minutes late and didn't excuse herself or even ask me how long I was waiting."

Holy Cupid to hell, this is just a crappy start. I've never seen it this bad before. We continue:

Leslie: "The first thing I noticed was that he was tall; I am not sure if I thought he was good looking."

Ouch! In front of a million people! Why don't you just kick him in the nuts, Leslie?

Matt: "Before long, the photographer showed up to take our picture. Unfortunately the photographer ended up asking me more questions than Leslie did during dinner."

This is a cross between an "all about me" violation and a "boring, disinterested companion" handicap. We'll dock a point from both dater's scorecards on this one just to be fair.

Leslie: "I am a teacher, so I can't say I was thrilled when he announced he is a Bloomberg and Giuliani supporter."

I wholeheartedly support teachers and their mission, no matter who's in office. But, seriously Leslie, who gives a fuck about this crap? Leave the politics at home.

Matt: "There are two times you should never talk about religion or politics; when you're getting a haircut and when you're on a date. But I didn't care, so I decided to ride the sinking ship and brought up Bloomberg. Remember how I thought she was too shy? Well I couldn't be more wrong, because she went on a tirade about how much she disliked the mayor (sorry, Mike!). "

Wait, Leslie, I take that back. He was taunting you. I'm seeing Red Ryan getting displaced here with every passing second.

Leslie: "We did talk about what sort of books we read. He is into some detective fiction writer and my favorite book is, "A Good Man is Hard to Find," so I don't think I will be looking for his recommendations."

This is just cold. Did she feel a need to get snitty about his reading list? It gets better/worse:

Leslie: "He lives on the Upper East Side and has some non-specific corporate job. I can't imagine spending so much of my day doing something boring like that."

Neither can I, but leave the poor guy alone! It's his life! No one's ragged on you for being a teacher, after all. (Note: I double-checked Matt's profile just to make sure he didn't. With these two, never assume anything good.)

Leslie: "We did not give each other any way to contact each other at the end of the date. We said a friendly "See you later", but it was a "not really" one, as well."

Matt: "After a long, uncomfortable walk, we arrived at the station and she finally made a polite gesture by saying she had a great time. I said the same, but the truly great time for me was joining my friends 20 minutes later."

Hahaha! A mutual "See you in hell, asshole!" I'm relieved the date didn't take place at a firing range! Like I've said in the past, that would be the low point in the Meet Market column: dater death.

Anyway, let's commemorate this ugly occasion with a coronation: Matt and Leslie are our new King and Queen Worst Daters! And to celebrate, they'll be leading the homecoming parade in beautiful Carteret, New Jersey this year! Details to come!

Moving on... next week's dater is... uh oh.


Well, I can't write about myself now, can I? Time to introduce our guest blogger for the week, a former Meet Market contestant, the lovely and talented Jen Dziura!
(Note: all opinions to follow are that of the guest blogger, not publisher! But they're still funny!)

This week's Meet Market headline blares "Blogger Brian sks Web Woman." Oh, those clever Post reporters. Is "sks" some kind of trendy lingo from the world wide supernet WiFi highway? Or did the reporter text-message this article in?

And wherever does one find a good "web woman" these days? (Oh, Charlotte, my web woman, spin me a web of the finest spider silk so that I won't be eaten after the county fair. Quoth the web: "Some Dater!")

This half of today's Meet Market review is being brought to you by me instead of Brian, because this week's dater is, of course, Brian himself. "Brian analyzes the Meet Market on his site!" says the caption beneath the photo in which Brian is packed into a suit, twisting his body oh-so-carefully (hips at nine-o-clock, head at twelve-o-clock, try to make palms stop sweating!)
(Ed. note: holy shit, was I a bundle of nerves for that shoot. More on that later. Continuing...)

You can see that the Post is trying to make the best of it. Any PR is good PR, we've heard, but does he have to make fun of our grammar so much? Maybe if we get him laid....

Brian describes himself as "generous, thoughful and romantic." He likes "cycling, jogging and swimming." He cannot live without "breakfast, lunch and dinner." He wants someone who is "confident, fairly intelligent and adventurous." He only likes things that come in threes! How will he ever choose but one woman? He also "volunteers with several organizations." Several, Brian? Did you mean three?

Wait a minute. Let's jump back to "fairly intelligent." Fairly? Fairly intelligent? As in, not too smart, please? I might excuse Brian on the grounds that he didn't want to make anyone feel uncomfortable by setting the bar too high, but he didn't say he wanted someone "fairly confident" or "fairly adventurous." No, no, you must be fully confident about being only "fairly" intelligent. And fully willing to jump from airplanes, apparently, unless "adventurous" is guy-lingo for "bondage sex on the first date." It's hard to tell these days.

On Brian's worst-ever first date, he was dragged into Duane Reade, where his date tried to get him to buy her $40 worth of cosmetics, toiletries, and food.

Brian, that's what you get for picking up homeless teenage runaways on St. Mark's Place.

And now, the three lovely ladies who might have the privilege of paying for their "free" date by being mocked mercilessly here at the Lectern.

Anna, 28, cannot live without her "passport, suitcase, and running shoes." Could be a short date. In any case, she sounds well-prepared to skip town if she finds her underwear choices being dissected on this blog.

Shevi, 28, cannot live without her pen, lip gloss, and email. It seems like if you only get three things, the pen and the email are a bit redundant. Like if your fairy godmother gave you three wishes and you wished for world peace, to be sooo pretty, and an end to war. You just wasted a wish! You could be wiping your ass with $100 bills right now. Anyway, Shevi appears to be the hottest of the bunch.

Amanda, 23, is unemployed. It's too bad that the Meet Market stylebook says to list contestants by their professions, while hiding their more whimsical and personal qualities in the smaller text below. We don't get "Amanda, fun at the beach," or "Amanda, makes a great hummus sandwich," or "Amanda, fairy princess." We get Amanda, Currently job-searching." Poor girl. That being said, if you're unemployed, you don't need to use the phrase "laid-back" three times in a 200 word profile. You don't have a job. We get it!

Shevi (body at nine-o-clock, tilt head towards eleven-thirty!) seems to be the clear winner here. She describes herself as an "artistic, sensitive, thoughtful person" who likes to try new things, enjoys her family, likes spending time with people who enjoy time alone, and a bunch of other really mature stuff that would be boring if she weren't also hot. Plus, lip gloss and mojitos!

Of course, Shevi may well be more than "fairly intelligent," so I don't know where that would leave us.

Check back in here at The Lectern for 'round-the-clock updates on this disaster in the making.

Signing out,
Jennifer Dziura

(Thanks, Jen! And, since the Post shamelessly plugs restaurants in their dating column, we'll do some self-promotion in ours! Check out Jen this Saturday when she performs at the HBO Comedy Showcase at the New York Improv Comedy Club. More details are here! )

Hey, I said "fairly intelligent" because I thought "Mensa-certified" would be reaching. Besides, I keep catching myself saying "Houston St." like the city in Texas, so I have no place in the world to be demanding intelligence! Anyway, check back next week to find out who I chose and how the date went. Watch me burp and eat with my fingers! See the Post sweat out a four-figure meal bill! Laugh as I lose a month's rent to Duane Reade once again! It'll be fantastic! Until next week...