DateLush
For the Perfect Search
by Lauren Fernandez

Da Da Lounge

86 Second St., San Francisco

Why is it that every time you plan to simply go out and have fun with your friends, you meet potential dates instead? I am not looking for anyone at the mo, but somehow men seem to be coming out of the woodwork when all I want is to hang with the girls.

It was an early Friday evening and being the lush that I am, going to yet another office mixer put on by me, was on the usual Friday agenda. For this particular Friday evening, it was at Da Da Lounge.

Da Da Lounge is one of those bars that you don’t hear much about, but you always see people in it and around it. I was the first to arrive and like I figured, it was bustling with Friday excitement of another weekend that had just begun. With limited seating available, I unfortunately had to stand with my martini glass and no one to talk to. Finally, after two cosmos, one of my girlfriends arrived and then there were two.

Most people go to Da Da with colleagues for after work events and lounging. I liked it because the lounging is usually sans creepy men in business suits. Eventually a couple of our company’s males joined us and we made a rowdy party of five.

So, as usual, after throwing back 2 more cosmos, I was in a dancing mood and there was a jukebox. The door guy happened to be sitting next to the music and, well, naturally we started up a conversation. Somehow we ended up discussing zodiac signs and then he somehow ended up getting my number.

You see, usually it takes more than just a look or conversation for me to give out my precious digits. But for some reason, on that particular Friday, I was feeling rather generous and shall I say, optimistic.

Following our disco line, drunken rowdiness, and I nearly turning the Da Da Lounge upside down, we decided to leave and save face.  We traveled to the closest fast food joint and stuffed what was left of our empty stomachs. After one too many tacos later, I headed home.

On my second stop on the muni toward my bed, I received a text from Door Guy. Door guy was off his night shift and wanted to meet up for a drink. At first, I was thinking, “ok, I’m tired, drunk, and not super interested”. But then, I realized that I was also young, single, and looking. So, I dragged my tired bum off the muni, turned around, and went back to Da Da Lounge.

When I returned, he was already sitting at the bar drinking. Unfortunately, I was not in the drinking mood and I ended up just having a tall drink of water. Door Guy and one of his coworkers suggested going to a hip-hop club called Mighty. It sounded fun, so off we went.

When we arrived, we were let in right away because apparently Door Guy does have some connections in the city. The club was pretty fantastic and pretty crowded as well. We danced, kissed, and danced some more. DG was thankfully a good kisser.

Two hours later, we left in a cab. Now, here is the decision that every girl has to make at the end of the night, which is whether or not, the guy can sleep over. I usually don’t let the guy sleep over on the first encounter, but I was slightly lonely and missing having someone to cuddle with. So, after careful consideration, I told DG he could spend the night. However, I did make it very clear that he was only to spend the night and nothing more. He agreed and entered my boudoir.

Ok people, here is where the night turned sour for me. Number One, please do not get into my clean bed if you smoke cigarettes. I hate and I repeat, hate smokers. Smokers belong with smokers period, end of story. If you smoke, please don’t talk to me. Smoking is extremely unsexy in my book and should not be tolerated if you don’t like it. Once I smelled it on his clothing, I knew that I was over it.

Number Two, I know break-ups are hard, painful, and take a while to get over, but please, if you have just met me, don’t talk about your last relationship. For heaven sake, I just met you and you are already subjecting me to your very own therapy session in my bed! So, Mr. Door Guy was no longer Mr. Door Guy, but more like Mr. Emo instead.

Lastly, Lesson Three: I truly believe that men take longer to know who they are, what they want, and where they are going in life. Emo is a 23 years old newly graduated kid with no direction. I remember when I first graduated from university and how confused and slightly lost I was. However, telling a complete stranger my issues at 3 in the morning, was not how I sought direction.

Now, I am not sure if you believe this or not, I sure as heck don’t, but his excuse for opening up like he did was because he was drunk. Ha, and yes, I was born yesterday. So, men and women, if you are interested in someone, do not show all of your cards immediately. This may seem obvious to most of you, but apparently not all of you. Mr. Emo and I had one last encounter after this evening, which was less than fabulous. And now Mr. Emo and I are find ourselves on opposite sides of life’s spectrum.

Double Dutch (3192 16^th St., San Francisco):

Finding the most exciting place to go in San Francisco on a Saturday night is one hard task and an even harder one if you have a visitor. My friend came up from Pasadena, California, because he wanted to see just how fabulous my San Francisco life was. So, the pressure was on to have a perfectly flawless weekend with good food, good bars, and tons of ladies.

His definition of a good Saturday night was, well, grinding up against anything female. I was ok with that because chances are if the bar/club was poppin’ with females, chances are it would be poppin’ with males too. Plus, I was hoping to scout out my next potential date and maybe even a few free drinks.

I’ll admit that I don’t know all the hotspots yet, so the Mission district it was. The group of two soon became four and yes, like always, I found myself amongst all men.

Apparently, Double Dutch is a fun place to shake your moneymaker, so off to booty shakin’ world we went. First drink, cosmo, extra stiff. The boys and I sat and discussed the usual: girls, sex, and how to get both. I dished out my advice or what I could give after having two stiff cosmos. After an hour of Dr. Phil time, the DJ began to spin and dance floor began to bump.

As the bar got fuller and the people got cozier, I began to observe the mammals in their natural habitat. Here is what I noticed:

You had three types of guys that evening: 1) the guys that didn’t want to dance with the girls, 2) the guys that didn’t know how to dance with the girls, and 3) the guys that were dancing with the girls. My boys fell into box number one. They were too busy having deep conversations with each other and me that they didn’t even notice the girls that were trying to get their attention. It was actually quite entertaining because there were these two girls that were literally dancing in front of our table all up on each other desperately trying to get one of my boys’ attention. The funniest part about the situation was that one of them put her hand on my friend’s head and tried so damn hard to pull him to the dance floor. Girlfriend ended up being quite disappointed because my boys don’t like easy. They like mysterious and slightly unattainable.

Ladies, please, if you want to get a man’s attention, don’t dance in front of his table. Tell me, how obvious is that? Really, men do not like the easy, unless their night only consists of retiring to a bed with someone else in it. Now, if that is all you’re looking for, girl, then by all means, go ahead with your badass-self! But…if it is not and maybe you’re looking for a future date with a nice dinner and some snogging, then do not try the above because you will be disappointed too.

An hour of old school hip-hop later, the bar began clearing out. I left the bar with three drunks, including myself, and one very sober, disappointed visitor. My friend said he didn’t have fun because there was no grinding, only working what your mama gave ya, which are two very different types of dancing. Working it, is well, working it, and solo. Grinding consists of two people rubbing every inch of their bodies up against each other to obtain a similar feeling to sex. For many non-dancing males, if the music isn’t for grinding, then in their eyes, it isn’t for any dancing at all.

Double Dutch made me recognize the dancing queens and the dancing fools. If my man can’t dance with me to any kind of music, then he ain’t my man at all! Amen…

Kate O’Brien’s (2^nd & Mission):

Only go to Kate O’Brien’s if you are desperate for a man to buy you a drink or if you’re the kind of gent that likes to watch hockey, baseball and basketball all at the same time. The service is a little less than up to par and well, the space isn’t well utilized for singles to mingle and jingle. Looking for a young, sexy professional? You are definitely not going to find it here that’s for sure! You know the window cleaners and the construction workers that are up before any of us and get off around our late lunchtime? Well, they frequent Kate O’Brien’s like it’s their second home. Not that it’s a bad thing, however meeting a professional and not one in the trades, is quite hard if not impossible at Kate O’Brien’s.

I walked in all by myself; no solo emergency reading material, no partner or plan of meeting anyone. I can honestly say that I am a social person, so I sat at the bar in hopes of talking to someone, anyone. Being the only solo girl at a full bar counter with many single guys, one would think that I would get some kind of attention. One would think, but one thought wrong. All wrong in fact! Not only did no man have enough guts to talk to me, but also they were all so completely consumed by the damn sports playing in the background! Men hear me out here, there was a single gal sitting all by herself and no one was talking to her! I understand that sports are fun and interesting to watch, but come on; there weren’t even any big games on! I know based on all the exclamation points, it may seem that I am shouting here, but in reality, I am just plain frustrated. I have come to the city to find love and all I get is a bar full of tradesmen who like watching balls?

Oh right, there was some ray of hope that I forgot to mention here. Well, maybe because it was only a ray and not a miracle. After my food was brought to me, another margarita magically appeared. I told the waiter that I did not order it, but would happily drink it. He pointed to a man in an orange shirt and said that he had put down for my drink. Thank god, at least one tradesman acknowledged the presence of a single lady! We raised a glass and toasted to nothing more than my free drink and his generosity. Ok, so you buy a lady a drink and that’s it? I would have thought a conversation would have come out of it. Fortunately, I did not have to put on a front and pretend to enjoy another boring bar conversation. I suppose it worked out for the both of us because my generous gent had drank enough for two and ended up having a painful conversation with the sidewalk outside.

In retrospect, Kate O’Brien’s did teach me something that lonely evening: sometimes men just don’t know how to approach a girl, sometimes sports are more important, and sometimes, just sometimes you can do nothing at all and you are appreciated.

Was Green Day right? Do nice guys really finish last? Are jerks just roaming the free earth preying on any nice, attractive girl they can get their paws on? Well if so, then that would explain why I have had so many failed relationships. Damn…or is it just the luck of the draw? Does the universe get to decide who gets an jerk and who gets a prince charming?

Alright, girls who are attracted to jerks please stand up. For one, you should be ashamed of yourselves! You’re letting jerks get away with being jerks! Ok, ok, I understand how confidence can play a huge role in attraction. I mean Mr. Fugly over there in the corner could potentially stand up and become Mr. Gorgeous if he just added a dash of confidence and maybe another shirt. But here is the big question at hand, why do jerks have confidence while nice guys are left with nothing but chivalry? Don’t get me wrong, chivalry is nice and all, but if you can’t stand up for me, then honey I’m not going to be your lover.

Based on my bar observations, confident men are the ones with girls hanging from their biceps, while the nice guys are coyly making their way through the massive sea of dancing women only to retreat back to their buddies. I have seen this happen numerous times and I wonder if it’s ever possible to meet a nice guy at a bar or anywhere? Jerks are the ones that successfully score a woman or at least digits. On occasion, I have had a nice guy come up to me and attempt to make conversation. However, it was extremely awkward because of his lack of confidence and the fact that he was stumbling over his words so badly, I had to order a stiff drink to even hold a conversation with the poor gent!

So, ladies, here is the predicament: jerks have confidence, which is what we want in a potential mate, but nice guys have chivalry and well of course, are nice. Jerks are like that big ice cream sundae in the window. It looks amazing with a triple scoop of your favorite flavor, whipped cream, chocolate sauce oozing down the sides, nuts, and of course that juicy cherry on top. Yum! However, when you realize that it has 1,000 calories and will give you love handles, you know it’s just not meant to be eaten. Jerks are great at being the “nice guy” for a while. Some can even pretend for up to a year, but then they crack and their true selves rear it’s ugly head. Either way basically have to wait for an ice storm or we have to wait until nice guys get the confidence memo, which I’m guessing won’t be until they mature a little. And maturity and men is a whole other issue.

In conclusion, yes, right now jerks do get more girls because they have figured out the secret into a woman’s heart is confidence. However, in the end that’s all a jerk really has. Once his cover is blown and girls realize that he’s not all that plus a bag of chips, he then has to go back to preying on the young, naïve girls. The good thing is this will only happen in his youth because when this gent gets older, the wrinkles start to appear, the hairline begins to recede, and the beer belly starts to grow over his belt buckle. And Mr. Hot Jerks will just be old n’ saggy with his usual run overs. Like I said before, nice guys do finish last, but in the end it’s worth it. Because the man that you’ll eventually settle down with will be a great guy that took a while to learn that confidence goes a long way.

Signs that He’s A Jerk:

1) He insults his friends

2) He’s immature

3) He’s sexist

4) He doesn’t appreciate an independent woman

5) He doesn’t make you feel special

Recently, I put my judgemental self aside and joined Match.com. And, yes, don’t think my friends didn’t torment me about it. I was the lame one that couldn’t find any winners in the natural world, so I had to enter the completely unnatural world of online dating. Online dating is the world where little girls chat with creepers online, thinking they are 14- year- old boys, meet them, and then end up dead. It is also the world where Mr. Hot N’ Sexy is not hot and sexy at all, but more geek chic than anything else. My pride was definitely put on the line and I had to prove to all of my pessimistic friends that online dating wasn’t that bad. I mean, all of those couples on the eHarmony commercials looked happy and real, right?

As I scanned and scanned for potential dates, I began to see that these men were not creepy or gross-looking, they were nice people like me that just did not have the time in their hectic fabulous lives to meet that special someone. At first, I wished I could have done this earlier because, honestly, I could have saved a lot of time and heartbreak.

Date 1: Mr Halitosis: Nice, funny, tall, smart, and the worst bad breath you have ever smelled in your entire life!!!!!!! After our first date at Boulevard on Mission St. in San Francisco, I had to let the poor thing go. He wasn’t my type because he was too much of a square. So, I used the handy blocking method. I know it’s kind of rude, but I honestly did not have the heart to tell him that what he had, he could never fix…ever. Well, maybe with some meds, but the docs tell me it’s incurable!

Date 2: Mr. Virgin: Umm… yeah, I need a man with experience if you know what I mean. I felt like telling him “Honey, sleep with at least five girls and then call me”. However, it was not that simple. Not only was he a virgin, he was just plain boring! For heaven sakes, have a damn personality or go home! He still lives with his parents, he didn’t go to college, and he is completely content being a UPS delivery man for the rest of his life. Granted, they do make pretty good money, but I don’t want a man that caps off at $80,000 a year. I want a man who’s dreams are so big, he doesn’t see where his salary could cap off at. After about a half hour of him talking about his love for water skiing at  Palomino in the Financial District, I tuned him out and dazed off into space. All I could see in my direct line of sight was the Borders diet book section. Then I started thinking about my own workout plan and then sadly this man in front of me was no longer a date, but a burden. I then decided that it was my friend’s birthday and that I must leave immediately. (that was a lie)

Date 3: Looks Good on Paper Guy: In theory, I should have really sparked with this guy. He was extremely intelligent, witty, interesting, sarcastic, and Latin. Unfortunately, there were no fireworks, sparks, or even hot ambers. Nada!!!! So now what? I stayed for the remainder of the date at Postrio near Union Square. I mean, he did make me laugh and I needed some humor with my latte. I think he felt the lack of sparks too and we eventually ended the date. I came to the conclusion that I cannot settle for a relationship with no fire. If I’m gonna do Latin, I have to have the passion.

Date 4: One-Arm Abercrombie: Now, I don’t want to sound heartless here, but hear me out before you make any judgements. Ok, if you don’t have all four limbs, please tell your date beforehand. It’s not the most comfortable thing when you go to shake your date’s hand and realize they only have one arm. All I’m saying is he could have warned me before we met at the the Stinking Rose in North Beach. I would, however, like to applaud him for taking such great pics because, hell, I didn’t know he only had three limbs! Okay, so moving past the one arm, there were more surprises ahead. Apparently, even at 20 years old, he still felt the need to call his parents “Mommy” and “Daddy”. I don’t know if other girls find that a complete turn-off, but I sure did. The rule is, you should stop calling your parents kid-names after about the age of ten years old. Now, despite all of his flaws, like being completely immature, I could see potential in about ten years. The kid still had a lot to learn about dating, women, and a little thing called maturity. However, all jokes aside, I could have sworn he was a Abercrombie model before the arm accident. His face was out of this world! It was heaven sent and absolutely amazing to look at. Honestly, that’s what got me through the two and a half hour awkward date. Now all he needs is maturity and proper arm etiquette. i.e. prepping his dates for his one-arm fabulous self.

So, there you have it. My four experiences in the virtual dating world. I have learned a lot, spent a lot, and I can truthfully say that I did have fun. If any of you out there choose to enter any of these dating sites, just remember: have a tough skin, and if the date is going completely sour, sweeten it up with a stiff, fruity cocktail to get you through the rest.

Keep on dating my soldiers, keep on dating!!!!!!

Greetings to my fellow datelushes, readers, friends, and acquaintances, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Lauren and I am a newly single, professional gal in the fabulous city of San Francisco, CA. I am writing this blog for two reasons: 1.) I want to encourage datelushes that we all go through dating disasters and successes, but we all must remember that things wouldn’t taste as sweet if we didn’t experience the bitter. And 2.) I sleep better at night after venting all of my dating frustrations to this little black Mac book.

Ok, a little history about myself: I have been dating for the past seven years without falling in love or even feeling loved. In the past year alone, I have had three failed relationships and counting. I do not understand why it is, but every single one of my relationships have crashed and burned within the first three months. So here’s a question for you all: why does a fab girl like me, end up with less than fabulous men?

I know what all of you are thinking: I am probably meeting men at the Balboa Cafe, Supperclub, walking down Columbus Ave, at work, or even at 24 Hour Fitness. Um, no and no, on the contrary actually. I am meeting men through friends, yes; maybe a few at work, but none at clubs or bars. One of my theories is that men are intimidated. I have a degree, a sense of style, and confidence and know exactly what I want. I mean really, is that so intimidating? I don’t think so. Ok theory two: I meet men that are not ready to settle down. Now, I don’t mean settle down in Marin County with a white picket fence and 2.5 kids. I mean settle down for more than five months! My third and final theory is that wounded deer are attracted to caring people, like myself, because they feel that they can be cured. I honestly do not go looking for broken toys in the toy store. They find me and I do not see the red flags until they are poking me in the eyes!

Here’s the real kicker: I have decided to remain single for an entire year. Yes, I know it is going to be hard, but I have $50 riding on my singledom. You think I can be broken, ha think again. There are truckloads of single men being unloaded into the city everyday. Did you know that San Francisco is the number one city to meet single men? I am about to embark on a journey full of juice, heartbreak, and yes, of course, tons of sex. However, I will only succumb to being a datelush under two circumstances: 1.) I do not exude any of my precious energy finding these men. And 2.) I will never get emotionally attached to any of the gentlemen. Come on, I would not be a datelush if I was only dating one man, right?

So, who bets me $50 I can’t make it? Any takers?