You'll Never Believe What Happened With That Guy I Met Online...

I pull my lips away from Marco’s, breathless, dizzy.

I don’t know how long we’ve been on this street corner, light rain falling, car lights sweeping past like searchlights in the night. All I know is that his hands are on my back, pulling me towards him with hunger.

His eyes search my face for approval, his lips parted, obviously aching to continue, yet somehow unsure if he should.

“You’re a good kisser,” I manage.

“I have to tell you something,” he says.

Oh no. Here it comes. He has a girlfriend, a wife, is on the run from the government. Not again.

He looks away. “I’m a monk.”

The entire universe screeches to a halt.

“Is that some kind of kinky thing?” One can hope.

“I took vows. Celibacy. Poverty. Obedience. I live with my brothers.”

So that’s why we didn’t go to his place.

“I think I have to leave now,” I say. Because really, I’m not one to kiss a monk and tell. Or not tell.


Weekly Date Post Mortem With Rose And Natasha

“Should I see him again?” Rose asks Natasha,* her phone buzzing with another emoji-laden text from the monk.

Friday night. Every Friday night. Natasha’s place. The weekly round-up. The weekly de-brief.

“He’s meh!” says Natasha. “What can possibly develop between you and a man who voluntarily has given up sex?”

“He’s from Italy,” Rose protests. “And he has a good job! I think monk is a legit job.”

“You and men of the cloth! Don’t you remember that Buddhist monk who showed you his mandalas?”

“I forgot about him. He was… meh.”



Dating Debacles Abound

Friday night, week after week, month after month. Year. After. Year. Natasha talks about the broke artist she dated for a while. She’s still got a crush on him, but he cancels plans almost every time. He’s “too busy” to see her.

“You mean stoned, Natasha. Too stoned to see you.”

Natasha’s posse of undateable but adorable guys includes one who hoards expired peanut butter. Ten years expired. Also a dashing rake with a massive tattoo of Vladimir Putin riding a wild boar on his thigh.

“That’s a red flag, Natasha, and not just in that old hammer and sickle way.” 

“But he’s tall! And smart! And funny! And who else will binge-watch Tarantino flicks with me?”


It's Not You, Really... It's Them

One day Natasha swipes right on Pierre, a perfectly nice man with a handsome face, polished manners, an Ivy League education, a reputable job, an enviable salary, and no obvious baggage. 

They move from chatting online to the phone and then on to real life. 

How very promising!

  • Date # 1. He talks about how he organized his company’s social fishing retreat on Lake George. 
  • Date # 2. He describes how many worms come in a styrofoam container. 
  • Date # 3. Should next year’s retreat be at Lake Louise or Lake Champlain? Decisions. Decisions. Decisions.
  • Half an hour before Date #4. A panicked phone call to Rose.

“I’m wearing my f-m boots, but I just can’t do it. I can’t go on one. more. date. with. this. man. I have to pretend I am an alien meeting a human for the very first time just to stay awake.”

“Then don’t. Stay home and chill. Self-care. It’s all the rage with the kids these days.”

“I think there’s something wrong with me. There is absolutely nothing wrong with him. My mother would love him! But I just can’t. He’s so meh.”

“Tell him something came up and I’ll come over instead and we can make art. The guy I was supposed to see tonight strained his groin doing some kind of yoni-lingam gazing thing. Whatever. He’s meh too and I haven’t even met him yet. We need to avoid them all.”

“That’s it,” says Natasha. “They’re not just meh. They’re meh-n. Avoid them all!”


Friendship is Better than Another Boring Date

Natasha didn’t go out with Pierre that night. Neither did she see the broke artist nor the guy with the obscure tattoos. And Rose didn’t go out with Marco the monk, or any monk for that matter, no matter how many emoji roses were sent. 

Instead, they began making a list of all the meh mehn (the meh!n) they had met, which turned into a doodle, that transformed into a comic, that evolved into a card game about Pierre and Marco and the other meh!n to avoid. They laughed long and hard and worked diligently for years. Much coffee was consumed and everything turned out better than fine.

Choose Men (or Meh!n the Game), Not Meh!n

Love did not forsake our two heroines. By avoiding the meh!n, a day came when they both met men. Natasha met a man who is a dead ringer for Daniel Craig and works as a nature photographer but spends his downtime painting desert landscapes and oddly enough, riding a unicycle. Rose is with a lovely lad with unkempt hair and a huge heart who shares her passion for British humor, age group triathlons, and visiting obscure historical sites.  

And so concludes our tale of how two ladies made meh!n the game to avoid yet another mediocre date. The lesson, dear friends, is this: between a date with a meh!n and a night laughing with your friends, the decision is easy. Choose what will be the most fun. Don’t choose the meh!n, choose meh!n the game.

*Names have been changed to protect the innocent.