Question:
Dear Cheryl: I have two major problems tied together: 1) I really want to find a romantic partner, and 2) I hate myself for feeling that I need one. I've been told my whole life that I need to be independent and able to take care of myself. I am. I'm a 23-year-old graduate student at a prestigious world university in a challenging male-dominated technical field. I love the professional opportunities and challenges available.
However, I feel terribly guilt-ridden and weak because I'm not happy with my personal life. I feel that I'm failing as a professional woman because I'm not satisfied with a life that consists of just my friends and me.
I've been told over and over to be patient, to concentrate on being an interesting, attractive person and that the rest would take care of itself. But it isn't. I feel this horrible sense of failure because I'm lonely—not for want of friends or family—but for want of a real relationship.
I hate myself for wanting a partner, not necessarily a husband, yet—but a partner. I hate myself because I want a man I can depend on when I know logically that I should depend only on myself. I know I can work, live and even thrive professionally by myself, but I don't want to anymore. The only thing I hate more than being alone is the guilt I feel over hating being alone.
I don't know what to do. I've tried joining clubs, starting new hobbies, taking up dancing, online dating, fix-ups by friends, clubs, bars. I'm not unattractive and don't have a terrible personality. I just can't find anyone I fit with and I'm not happy with the "be patient" approach. I've seen too many women end up permanently alone.
—I Am Woman Hear Me Roar
Answer:
Dear I Am Woman Hear Me Roar: You've come a long way, baby. A long way since Gloria Steinem said, "A woman without a man is like a fish without a bicycle." Turns out, fish might not need bicycles, but women do need men. A least most of them do if they want to have healthy, happy lives with children and families. So, get over your guilt over wanting a partner. That is so mid-20th Century.
Now, how to find him—that's a different story. You're doing everything right. In fact, you're doing too much. Select the one or two activities that you really enjoy and concentrate on them. And look around your classrooms. They must be full of men who share your interests. (By the way, even Gloria Steinem got married. If it was good enough for her ...)
Question:
Dear Cheryl: I caught my husband watching Internet porn. Before this happened, I had lost interest in sex for a while. I didn't tell him I knew what he was doing. What I did was to really step up the sex with him to let him know I was interested again. A few days after we had good sex, I caught him again.
This time I confronted him. He said he would stop and we worked things out. But I'm still the one who's initiating sex. What should I do? Should I continue to seduce him or let him come to me when he wants it?
—Back in the Mood
Answer:
Dear Back in the Mood: Your husband might think that your renewed interest in sex is only temporary. Or he may be hooked on Internet porn. How do you feel about porn? Would you be willing to watch it with him? That's one option.
In the meantime, continue to seduce him. See if he gets the hint that your interest in sex isn't a passing thing. Stay in touch and let's see what's going on.
By FRED GONZALEZ
In today's dating world, we can find our dates online and keep track of mutual interests on our iPhones or Blackberrys, but it's ironic how a simple pen and paper can have more of an impact.
Sharon, a good friend who has had her share of ups-and-downs while searching for Miami's Mr. Right, was headed to a birthday dinner in Broward County. Riding in the passenger seat of her friend's car, she noticed an attractive man sitting in the sedan that pulled up next to them at the red light, just a block from her destination.
Sharon looked over at him several times and got caught looking twice. The mystery man smiled back, nodded, and when the light turned green, he headed right as they went up the street and turned left into the restaurant lot.
When dinner was over, and she returned to her car, she noticed a note under the windshield wipers.
"I saw you looking over at me, and if you want to learn more, give me a call," was the message on the note. "He wrote his number," Sharon said. "Seven digits."
That's right. He forgot to leave his area code.
When was the last time you heard of a guy leaving a note for a woman he saw all for all of 30 seconds? In middle school? All he knew is what he saw; barely enough to provide a police description, not enough to fill out an online dating profile.
I tried this once, leaving a note on the car of a woman who lived in my apartment complex after she smiled at me nicely one day in the elevator. But in retrospect, I should have talked to her. Instead I came across like a stalker, which may be the reason my car was towed, despite parking in my assigned spot.
As for Sharon's mystery man, obviously he noticed where they parked, turned his car around and delivered the note while they were dining inside. Sharon became intrigued. There was attraction, curiosity, a sign. But with no area code, she and her roommate had a mystery to solve. So they called the number trying different South Florida area codes.
A 305 resulted in a pizza joint. A 786 version was not in service. A 561 call interrupted a bridge game. But 954 reached his office voicemail at a consulting firm, but Sharon didn't leave a message. Why would he leave his work number? she asked. And why did he fail to include the area code? She wondered if he were married or dating and in search of some extracurricular activities.
I suggested to Sharon that while those scenarios were not outside the realm of possibility, perhaps he had cell problems, or his cell is an out-of-state number. As for the lack of an area code, it may have been an honest mistake (he may have assumed she'd know it was 954) or he may have wanted to see if she would begin the search.
Regardless, what did she have to lose by leaving him a message and perhaps meeting for coffee or a drink? These days, some singles will exhaust all options to meet someone. Better to try than to think "what if . . ."
So Sharon decided to call and told me she'd leave this message: "Hi, this is Sharon. You saw me the other day at the red light and I got your note. If you want to meet me, give me a call." And she would just leave seven digits.
Stay tuned.
By JULIE KLAUSNER
A CUTE guy from a rock band sent me an e-mail message out of the blue. We had a friend in common, and he saw me sing “Christmas Wrapping” by the Waitresses one night in Brooklyn, at karaoke. He wanted to say hi, he wrote, but was unshaven at the time and didn’t want to make a bad impression.
So far, so good. He was certainly handsome, which I discovered thanks to Google: lanky, thin, straw-colored hair, cheekbones so sharp they could shave slices like Post-it notes off a block of Jarlsberg.
He continued, in all lowercase, to introduce himself. I scrolled over his rambling exposition, waiting for the payoff. Was he going to ask me out? He didn’t. “i’m at home absolutely spazzing out because we’re leaving in a few days to make a record and i have to/really should finish a long list of songs. so, waving hello and/or re-hello! all the bestest.”
My enthusiasm waned. A hot guy in an indie band waved me hello and/or re-hello mid-spazz-out? And he’s leaving in a few days to make a rock album? How old is he: 40 going on 19? I rolled my eyes, but they only landed on those cheekbones on my computer screen.
I wrote back and made it easy for him. I even used all lowercase, mirroring his casualness. “hi. let me know if you ever wanna get a drink sometime. it would be fun to meet up.”
A relationship book I once read told women to use the word “fun” whenever possible. The author claimed it had a subliminal aphrodisiac effect on men, who want a relaxed girl attached only to good times — the human equivalent of Diet Coke. This is not me.
Over the next month, I got a few texts from him reporting on his band’s stay in the Northwest: updates on their album, the weather. His texts were postcards; he was broadcasting, not communicating. Even so, I liked hearing from him and wondered if he would meet up with me in New York, or if he would flake out. Despite my skepticism, I still wanted to go on a date with a good-looking guy who went through the trouble of getting in touch with me after seeing me sing in a bar.
While he was away, I asked my musician friends what they knew about him. Joanna, a singer, summed him up: “He’s an indie rock dreamboat. His voice is transcendent and he writes lovely lyrics. He has a nice face, he has a kid and he tours a lot. He’s a star in his world.”
I was surprised to hear he was a father. I was 28 then and had never dated a guy with a child. Also, he seemed like sort of a kid himself.
I have never been one for musicians. I know girls are supposed to go crazy for frontmen who close their eyes when they sing and nod their heads when the drums kick in, but I’m like Shania Twain with that stuff: That don’t impress me much. I’ll take wit and brains over the ability to carry a tune any day. You can teach a monkey to play the guitar, you know.
Still, anyone who can make a living doing something creative is impressive. And he did have a nice face. I would have to take Joanna’s word for it about his lyrics, though, because I tried to listen to a couple of his songs online and was too bored by the melodies to pay attention to the words. It was typical emo stuff: droney, thick, exhausting, but obviously heartfelt.
He sent a text message when he was back in town and asked me out for Monday. I said yes, and he wrote, “actually, are you around tonight?”
“No,” I wrote. I felt like a mom belatedly establishing boundaries. I heard back an hour later: “monday it is!”
He already annoyed me, and we hadn’t even met. I would soon learn a lesson men have known for years: that it’s possible to be attracted to somebody you don’t like.
Maybe “like” is the wrong word. There was something clumsily endearing about him, or maybe it was just his looks. Even cynical women can be reduced to buttery puddles by a pretty face.
He told me to meet him at his subway stop in Brooklyn. He was shorter than I expected but otherwise very cute. I wore heels and a dress, like an adult on a date. He wore corduroys and slip-on Vans sneakers. I hovered over his shaggy blond head.
He took me for a walk around his neighborhood. I’m always suspicious when a guy takes his date on a walk, because it reeks of poverty and an inability to plan. It seemed as if he was taking me on a stroll of his estate, and from the way people on the street greeted him with questions about his tour and album, it was as if he was the king of his neighborhood.
We wound up in a bar, where we sat next to each other on stools. Once I got my beer, he put his knee between my legs, and I remembered why I agreed to go out with him. I felt my contempt for his Peter Pan posturing slip away as hormones seized my body. All I could think about was how the corduroy over his knee felt between my bare thighs.
He told me he bought a DVD of “The Electric Company” to show episodes to his son. I had told him that I was a fan of 1970s children’s television. “Do you want to come over and watch ‘The Electric Company’?” he asked.
I squeezed his knee with my legs. “Sure.”
He lived in a one-bedroom apartment and had converted the bedroom into a playroom for his little boy. It was cluttered with wooden toys, and everything was at shin level. He kept this room for whenever his child came to visit him, which apparently was not very often.
We retired to the living room, where dresser drawers hid a Murphy bed. His mattress lowered like a drawbridge, and we fooled around on it for a few hours. It was lovely, clumsy fun.
Three days later, I got a text message from him: “hope you got home okay last night!” Then, right afterward, “oops sorry julie. i thought i sent that text tuesday.”
Thanks to technology, there are so many more ways to fail.
After the fail text, I heard nothing. I feel dumb admitting it, but part of me believed that making out with me would launch him into action mode.
A few weeks later, on a flight from Chicago back to New York, I couldn’t sleep: I had cast myself as the lead in the pornography looping in my head. Just like Splenda can make you hungry for more sweets, even a casual sexual encounter can breed a craving for what can’t be sated by a night of fumbling on a Murphy bed. I sent a text message from the baggage claim area at Kennedy Airport.
He said he was cleaning. I offered to come over with my DVD of “Free to Be ... You & Me” on the chance he was up for some ’70s children’s TV, which by now I assumed was a euphemism.
I took a cab over to his place, where we hung out in his kitchen listening to music and eating ravioli while he told me about his son.
The custody proceedings in the last week had turned ugly. The child’s mother didn’t want him to have any visitation rights, and he was heartbroken.
He told me they had gone out for three months but he had never called her his girlfriend. When he broke up with her, she announced she was pregnant. He thought she was on the pill and figured she had gotten pregnant so he wouldn’t leave. He did anyway, after which she had the baby and moved overseas.
I felt bad for the woman if she thought a baby could act as maturity Miracle-Gro on a man who had dated her for months but still kept it casual. But I also felt bad for him, sideswiped by this unfortunate side effect of a life lived dreamily. I remember Joanna telling me how many of his songs were about longing and loss: I thought about the love of his life, this little boy with yellow hair, living a world away.
He made sure to use a condom with me that night, on his son’s bed.
Afterward, I didn’t hear from him. I didn’t want to call, but I realized I had left my earrings and DVD at his apartment. I needed to get my things and move on, but I knew it was up to me. He wasn’t going to get in touch with me: I was waiting for the Great Pumpkin to give me back my earrings.
I sent him a curt text on my way to the subway telling him that I wanted my stuff back and that I would be in his neighborhood later. In the meantime, I went to meet a friend for drinks at a bar not far from his apartment.
Hours after I had sent the text message, I heard back: “hi julie. so sorry i’ve been out of touch. things have been crazy. the other thing is that i’ve started seeing somebody else and wanna see where it’s going. anyway, i have your stuff, just let me know where i can drop it off, xo”
I felt my cheeks get hot. How did this happen? Even though I had seen right through this clown, I still managed to get hurt. I did like him, despite everything. It wasn’t fair.
Soon he entered the bar with a shopping bag and slid into the booth between my friend and me. The awkwardness was palpable, sultry, like fondue.
“Hi,” he said, handing me the bag.
“Thank you,” I replied, staring at my drink.
There was a long pause.
“So,” he said. “What are you doing?”
I took in a sharp breath and looked him in the eye. “Having a drink,” I said, answering the world’s stupidest question.
He took a moment to assess, then rose silently from the booth and slipped into the night. I took out my DVD, put my earrings on, crumpled up the shopping bag and finished my Diet Coke.
Julie Klausner is a writer and performer who lives in New York City.
On the day two years ago when Ray Doustdar officially launched his online dating Web site, the lead story in the Life section of USA Today was all about his company -- exactly as he planned.
Two months later, Doustdar and his site, TeamDating.com, were featured on NBC's "Today" show, also as he planned.
His crowning achievement came one evening when NBC "Tonight Show" host Jay Leno used TeamDating for a joke. When meeting people through online dating sites, Leno said, dating in teams is safer because "the police have more clues as to where to find your body."
"What I think happened is one of Leno's writers read about my company and came up with the joke," said Doustdar, 35, who's having the last laugh.
In the fiercely competitive field of online dating Web sites, where some players are spending millions on ads and public relations, Doustdar has received loads of publicity on a shoestring budget.
He has gotten TeamDating featured on many high-profile TV shows and in newspapers and magazines without having hired a consultant or PR firm.
How did he do it? "All it really cost me was time," he said.
Intense Outreach
Time is money. In the months leading up to the site's launch, 90% of Doustdar's day was spent reading, researching and calling on media people.
He checked each media outlet to see who covered online dating and social networking.
He read every story he could find online about dating, social networking, the Internet and technology.
Then he would post comments about the stories online, with his full name, title and company name attached.
Along the way Doustdar gently honed a cordial relationship with reporters through e-mails and phone calls, offering himself as a source. Those links often led to stories about TeamDating.
"I've written e-mails to everybody under the sun," he said.
The dollar value of the publicity he received could easily reach well into six figures, said Andy Oliver, vice president at Lewis PR.
"If someone wrote the bible on public relations, I would want a case study on how Doustdar achieved what he did," said Oliver.
"The key thing was he did his homework, the research and preparation. He really understood the people he was pitching, what interested them and what interested their audience as well," Oliver said.
Doustdar's idea for TeamDating came after a night when he and his partner spent an evening at a bar, where they met two women. Going on blind dates in teams, he reasoned, was a safer and potentially more fun way for people to meet.
Convincing the media that his online dating site was worth a look took some investigative reporting of his own.
He chose USA Today as the starting point 14d found that reporter Olivia Barker covered the online dating field. Doustdar began reading every story Barker wrote, and sent her e-mails on every one. He never mentioned TeamDating in his e-mail commentary, but his signature was always accompanied with a brightly colored logo of his company.
And not all his e-mails were flattering.
"I was disagreeing with her half the time, reasoning she would appreciate honesty," he said.
The exchange went on for six months. One day she called him.
"She liked the e-mails and said they made her think about some things differently. And then she asked me about TeamDating."
Bingo.
The TeamDating site had been running for months in a beta test format. Doustdar held back the launch for when the story ran.
Hits 'Today' Show
More than 200,000 people visited the site that day and about 3,000 of them signed up for team dating, Doustdar says.
His next target was the "Today" show, which did a five-minute segment on TeamDating. About 600,000 visited his site that day.
Doustdar already had a good understanding of how the media worked.
His experience includes executive positions in entertainment branding, licensing, sales and marketing. Firms he worked for included Universal Studios, BMG Entertainment and Procter & Gamble (PG).
Doustdar called on his contacts in those fields whenever he needed a door opened, such as when he made contact with the executive producer of "Today."
Other shows that carried segments on TeamDating included CBS' "The Early Show" and ABC's "Good Morning America."
Wherever he traveled, Doustdar made it a point 15 arrive two days early to visit media executives or local TV outlets -- people he had researched and contacted.
He ended up on news and entertainment shows in St. Louis, Cleveland, Atlanta, Chicago and Tampa and Jacksonville, Fla., among others.
The episodes are available for viewing on TeamDating.com.
The Web site now has about 60,000 regular visitors and 20,000 registered dating teams.
Doustdar set out to achieve something else when he launched his site.
"My goal was to develop both a Web site and a TV show tied to it," said Doustdar.
He's realizing that goal.
According to Doustdar, negotiations are under way with a "signature actor, a major production company and a major cable network" to develop a show around team dating.
An announcement could come "in the next few weeks," he said.
When it happens, you can bet the media will cover it.
