Hi My name is J I also work at a female prison. I have a court date next week with my soon to be ex-wife. I was married close to 19 years, and just turn 40 back in November. I like your post because I need practice with women. I was with my wife right out of high school. I have spent the last 8 month just working on my new home and now I want to work on my boyfriend/girlfriend skills. IF I could travel anywhere right now I would want to go to a big city like New York. I have attached a picture and would love to take you out for lunch and open up to you more.

Sincerely,

J

Dear J,

I think you’ve already opened up to me just the right amount. Application to date me: denied.

Love,

Gigi

Having said that, a plan is starting to form in my mind.

I’ve already sent the first few chapters to the agent whose feedback was so invaluable to me two years ago. She’s the one who liked my voice. She’s the one who told me to expand the story. And she has first dibs.

If the book isn’t a fit for her or her agency (for those of you who don’t know the agency world: they mostly focus themselves within certain genres, certain types of books, certain types of authors), then off it goes into the void of agents who don’t love my voice yet.

If all of this fails me, I might just self publish. Before, I would have seen this as a heartbreaking failure. I wasn’t publishing the book for me. It was for the masses! It was going to be my livelihood! It was going to let me travel to exotic bookstore locales and sign books for my adoring fans!

I don’t see it that way anymore, though. It’s my story. I want it told. I want people to read it. And however they get it is however they get it. If one person better understands the nature of love because of it, good. If one person who is lonely feels like they have someone who understands them because they read it (or, I daresay, feels like I do about Eat, Pray, Love…that Elizabeth Gilbert seems like an old friend, telling me a story), wonderful. If people can smile and laugh and have a better day because my life has been ridiculous, the book has done its job.

So, here’s the thought: if I don’t have an interested agent or publisher by the end of the year, I’m going to start doing research on self-publishing an e-book. Meaning that no matter what, those of you who have been patiently waiting for me to get my butt in gear and publish this sucker will get your wish. You will be able to read it sometime next year. Though who knows in what format.

I’ve been to every continent except Antarctica. I hiked the Swiss Alps. I hitch-hiked in Ireland and kayaked in Cinque Terre. I taught AIDS awareness classes in southern Africa. I visited a refugee camp. I saw a man who had been dead for a day. I started a business. I trained a therapy dog. I spent days in a Peruvian orphanage. I moved to a new city and started a new life–three times. I chased a giraffe and was chased by a giant beetle. And I took a group of Thai prostitutes to dinner and listened to their stories.

And now I expect to find a man who I have something in common with.

The more I date, the more I am struck by how few people in my generation (and how few Americans in general) have done anything. Or even want to do anything.

I get asked all the time how I can afford to travel, or to start my business, or to move from place to place. And the simple answer is that I make these things my priority. I forgo the new shoes and the glass of wine and the appetizer and the expensive car…and instead I take myself to Switzerland with my best friend, who has also forgone shoes and wine and so forth.

This is not just about travel, though. It’s about living life. It’s about doing the things you want to do. You want to go back to school? Do it. You want to ride a motorcycle down through South America? Make it happen. You want to volunteer at the hospital? What’s stopping you?

The problem is that we’re so focused on things instead of experiences. Our culture is a culture of cars and clothes and picket fences. But at the end of your life, will you really look back and say “wow, I’m glad I bought that cocktail dress?”

I’m not knocking cocktail dresses. I happen to like them. But you see what I mean?

I’ll give you an illustration–one you’ve seen before: I get email after email and read profile after profile from these men online and so many of them have one thing in common…they feel the need to list their belongings. At first I just thought they were stupid, but then I thought it was sad. Is it all they have?

“Hi, I’m Jon. I have a car, a house, a job, a blender, a toaster…”

Seriously? Who gives a crap, Jon.

What have you done and what do you know, Jon?

Have you traveled the world? Written (and published) a book? Researched the human brain? Climbed the highest peaks in Colorado? Learned how to tango? Picked grapes in a vineyard? Moved across the county on a whim?

No. You’ve just been out drinking every night.

That’s what my generation seems to do. And don’t get me wrong…I’m not against drinking by any means. In fact, I’m a wine snob. What I’m pointing out is that drinking isn’t worth all your money or all your time. When you look back ten years from now, would you feel prouder knowing you’d partied every weekend or that you’d gone an African safari, taken an art class, started a blog, raised a puppy, volunteered for an organization you believe in?

I guess this is the point: you’ve only got so many years on earth. Don’t you want to do the things that matter, to leave a legacy, to look back and think that you had a full, rich life? And don’t give me that bullshit about not being able to afford the experiences you want. Don’t buy those shoes or drink that bottle of wine right now and I guarantee you, you can make your dreams happen.

Like Rolf Potts says in his book, Vagabonding, “Out of an insane duty to fear, fashion and monthly payments on things we don’t really need–we quarantine our travels.”

It’s not just about travel. Maybe you don’t want to travel. Fine. But what do you want to do? Learn Spanish (which is spoken all over the U.S.)? Teach a class? Start a business? Design a home? Do that. Do something. Be interesting.

That’s where I’ll leave you. Be interesting.

Especially if you want to date me. Also, stop telling me how many cars you have. No one effing cares.

Bachelor #1
He’s unemployed, he’s wordy and he loves to talk about his mother! In fact, the opening paragraph of his profile is all about how his mother has been praying for the perfect woman for him since he popped out into the open air. No pressure, though.

Bachelor #2
Another self-proclaimed writer who uses phrases like “write your eyes off” and doesn’t subscribe to commonly accepted ways of punctuating sentences and adding spaces between paragraphs. Clever. Why are you not published, sir?

Bachelor #3
An incredibly obese, mean-looking, scowling man who likes my optimism.

To be fair, I’ve been chatting with one very charming, well-traveled man who I met on the site and just this week got two other possibly-promising emails. So don’t think OK Cupid is a cesspool. I keep going back to it for a reason…okay, part of that reason is entertainment. You got me.

Uh, YIKES.

I’m currently reading (as you can see) Malcolm Gladwell’s book, What the Dog Saw and Other Adventures. Yep, he’s the one who wrote The Tipping Point. And he’s pretty brilliant. Bringing fascinating points to light in stories about ketchup and hair dye.

This quote comes from the story about hair dye. I guess I knew vaguely what it meant to be a woman 50, 60 or 70 years ago. I’ve seen this before. But maybe it didn’t hit me. Because this time I found it shocking.

What a different planet it was. That you could date someone for years and want to marry them and the tipping point for their decision could be YOUR HAIR COLOR. Seriously? And that’s okay?

We wanted marriage that bad? That we’d merge our Forever with a douche who thought hair color was the foundation for a relationship?

The foundation for a lasting marriage, folks. Obviously.

Of course, Gladwell goes on to tell the story of feminism creeping in. And then I started to feel better.

Here was the downside to Shirley Polykoff’s world. You could get what you wanted by faking it, but then you would never know whether it was you or the bit of fakery that made the difference. You ran the risk of losing sight of who you really were. Shirley Polykoff knew that the all-American life was worth it, and that “he” — the handsome man by the lake, or the reluctant boyfriend who finally whisks you off to Bermuda — was worth it. But, by the end of the sixties, women wanted to know that they were worth it too. – Gladwell

Parting note: you should read Gladwell’s story. I would quote the ending, because it is excellent. But instead I’ll tell you that you have to go to the library and pick it up.

Another parting note: don’t forget this delight. “Never look bored — even if you are.”

Today, gentlemen, we will answer all your questions about why you never get any action on first dates with attractive women, or really ever, unless copious amounts of alcohol are involved.

Today, gentlemen, we discuss oral hygiene.

It is a complex and frightening topic, to be sure, but one you must confront, if you wish to date women of high caliber. And we know you do. We also know that you are capable of understanding – nay, of mastering! – the skills were are about to present.

So follow closely.

You must brush your teeth twice a day with an electronic device that costs more than your iPhone (no, you may not use a regular brush because you are currently doing a terrible job with it); You must floss ALL of your teeth once per day; You must make regular visits to a member of the American Dental Association and you must stop whining like a little girl about having your teeth cleaned by a professional hygienist.

This.
Is.
Not.
Optional.

Unless you want to continue wondering why you are in your late twenties with four roommates instead of a girlfriend.

Unless you want to continue to have a Facebook profile that looks like it belongs to a college freshman who thinks putting a lime slice on top a Corona is the height of sophistication.

Unless you want to continue on your lonely journey of interrupted make-outs and unreturned phone calls, pretending to be a free man by preference rather than because of periodontitis.

TRY the steps we’ve given you above, get to know the aisle that has bleaching strips at your local grocery store, practice smiling in front of the mirror, and locate a platonic female acquaintance who is willing to tell you what you’re still doing wrong (you may also consider asking Gigi, who is a certified expert on everything related to dating), and you will find you have throngs of women beating down your door!!!!… Or at least less gum disease.

Think about it.

This manifesto has been brought to you by Crest 3-D Vivid and Sonicare.

DK: Actually, there’s no limit on common law in CO. As soon as you declare that you’re married and conduct yourselves as married people, you’re married…unless someone proves otherwise.

Guiding Ray of Sun: It’s a trap!

Gigi: I love that! You could have an informal wedding run by a shaman overseas and still be married in CO. LOVE!

DK: Yup. It’s all a matter of how hard someone is trying to prove you’re NOT married.

Gigi: I’m also going to start declaring (to terrified boys) that we’re officially married–and dare them to prove otherwise.

Guiding Ray of Sun: What if you don’t want to be married? Not fair.

DK: Things like owning property jointly and filing taxes together help.

Gigi: “Hey cute boy over there…I’ll do your taxes for free”

DK: hehehe

Guiding Ray of Sun: ha ha ha ha!

Guilty as charged.

Dear Totally Awesome At Grammar,

Everything about your email makes me want to break my rule about not responding to emails that don’t include pictures. Also, to take off my pants.

Love,

Gigi

All i got is to be honest and that is you are the most beautiful woman i ever seen ever Do you drink much