It isn’t every day I get an email out of the blue from someone who found me on Studio30+ to tell me how much she enjoyed reading my blog. So much so, that she went all the way back to the beginning of the story, to see where I started and just where this journey has taken me. I am so incredibly flattered that the lovely Teresa of Take with a Grain would take time out of her day to give me an in-depth blog review and incredibly helpful tips on how to improve navigation (which is something I’ve been giving some thought to for some time now).

“Charlotte’s blog actually reminds me a bit of Sex and the City… In both you get to witness the dating trials and tribulations of a curly haired vixen in New York while she figures out how to handle herself after the crushing bust-up of a long-term relationship.”

Girlfriend has clearly done her homework since she knows I am the proud owner of a mess of curls. And sometimes the not-so-proud owner of a Jew-fro, depending on the season.

It seemed only fair that I give Teresa a bit of a shout-out here today as a thank you for crafting such a sweet and thoughtful post. Please check out her Take With a Grain blog and like her on Facebook.

Have you ever reviewed someone’s blog at random or has anyone ever reached out to you with a review of your blog before? This does get the wheels in motion for me. I would love the SITS girls to review my blog, but I don’t think they are accepting any more submissions. Maybe I can run a series here where bloggers can review their favorites. Not only would we discover some new reads, but we can read about what works, what doesn’t, what could use improvement, etc. What do you think of this idea?

David is one of the friends I turn to when I need someone to grab a drink with and dish about life, love, politics, and work stresses. He’s good peoples. Sophisticated, smart, suspendered, sarcastic. And single. So if you like his commentary here, contact me and maybe I can play matchmaker. *wink wink*

Before I met Bryan several months ago, David and I sat in a local dive and bitched about dating in this great, beautiful, and cold city as well as the stereotypes men had about women and vice versa. I asked him to write a post for me to shed light on the male perspective because he’s opinionated and clever and I have always respected his views. So he did. And like the terrible friend I am, I dropped the ball on this and let it sit in my inbox for an unreasonable amount of time. (Sorry about that, homey).

Please give a very warm welcome to my buddy David who blogs over at ΔΟΚΕΙ ΜΟΙ and follow him on Twitter @Herkolaos.

***

I have been asked to offer a male perspective on the rather broad topic of dating in New York City. To be clear, this is a male perspective not the male perspective.

In searching for a potential partner, there are essentially three ways to proceed. In addition to the old fashioned way of meeting somebody on one’s own in realife, there is also the intermediary (see: Yenta) or cyberspace. Let us dispense with the simplest of these first, i.e. through an intermediary. This, I believe, functions generally the same for both sexes. Some friend or coworker invariably has the bright idea that two people would be a great match and sets about getting them together. Said friend or coworker is either possessed of some deep insight into human nature and a nuanced understanding of both parties. Or said friend is a meddlesome twit.

So much for friends. But what of online? It is here that womanity has taken its first tentative steps along the path of Targeted Mate Acquisition (TMA). And good on you lot, because now you get to see just how difficult TMA can be. In some ways, it’s like hitting a baseball. If you succeed roughly three times out of ten, you are deemed successful. Therefore, men are accepting of a high failure rate. It is a burden we bear without complaint, for ever and anon do we console ourselves with not being subjected to a menstrual cycle. Women, however, need not fear such a perilous rate of rejection. Though there is surely a more poetic way of putting it, I shall borrow from a Twisted Sister lyric. “I know what you want. You want what we got.”

Still, the potential to experience rejection exists, whether through failing to meet another’s highly subjective optimal ophthalmic standards or by coming across as demonstrably insane. Consider the following: I recently received a message from a girl which was well crafted, intelligent and overall generally pleasant. Natch I perused her profile. She appeared to be quite bright, like-interested and rather charming. I would have liked very much to talk with her… until I saw the pictures, at which point I felt sore ashamed. As you might imagine, I was less than thrilled with myself for making a snap judgment on so shallow a ground.

I composed the following response, here submitted for your (dis)approval, which I (obviously) did not send:

“Hello there, person who is interesting-to-an-uncommon-degree. I respect your courage in not only putting yourself out there but also for laughing in the face of defined gender roles by your female self reaching out and contacting my male self. After careful consideration, we have decided that you score highly in all categories which ‘really matter,’ and have earned a rating of ‘credit to your sex and to humanity already.’ Nonetheless, we regret to inform you that you are hereby: REJECTED. Good luck and thanks for playing. Best wishes: The Mgmt.”

As for coming across as a lunatic, needless to say a whole post could be written on that subject alone. In any event, while womanity may be sloughing off the vestiges of come-hithertude online, it is uncommon rare that this should occur at the local tavern. It is in this arena that the divide between us is most evident.

Men have confected any number of mechanisms by which to deal with this, both fair and foul. These include on the one hand flattery, drink-buying, peacockish displays of chivalry, ingratiation by way of kindness towards the targets friends and light humor. On the other, mendacity, arrogance, peacockish displays of affluence, and any manner of speech or action which may be classed as “Douchebaggery.”

Alas, Douchebaggery knows few bounds. It seeks you always, finds you often, and is not satisfied until the night is won or it is forced to withdraw in defeat. No amount of over-his-shoulder-looking or watch-checking or obvious glances of annoyance to one’s friends will divert it from its aim. And that is not all, for there is collateral damage as well. With every passing minute that Jimmy Popped-Collar is winnowing off your life, there may be some well-mannered gentleman of refined taste who is deterred from sweeping you off your feet.

It has been my observation that through body language, girls will make known whether or not they wish to be approached on a given evening. To be sure, signs may be misapprehended. I grant that it may be ideal, from the feminine perspective, to be approached by an attractive and charming gentleman. Yet as you await him, Douchebaggery circles as a vulture.

Thus, if women are willing to be approached, wherefore are they unwilling to do the approaching? This seems to me to be one of the great differences between our sexes. Many ladies, of course, will argue that it is just as difficult for them to meet a fine fellow as it is for a fine fellow to meet with a fair lady. This may be so. While our approaches do seem starkly different, yet are our objectives strikingly similar. In closing, then, I humbly suggest that if womanity should take some small step toward initiating the Targeted Mate Acquisition, though they should oft times meet with failure and rejection, still they would meet with it less often then do we. And if nothing else there might some circumvention of Douchebaggery to the general welfare of all.

I promised a follow-up post and I totally dropped the ball in getting this to you sooner. Sorry about that. This is traditionally the time of year when I go into hibernation, but I have had something going on every night for the past week and it’s been a little exhausting. But I did try to use whatever down time I had to sort through the muck in my mind. It’s ridiculous what swirls around up there sometimes.

So last we spoke (or last I wrote), I was getting ready for date #2 with the blues musician who lives in town. He called me Sunday afternoon to see if I wanted to grab a bite to eat for dinner so we arranged to meet up at a Middle Eastern restaurant. I was looking forward to it, not only because conversation was effortless with him, but I really did enjoy our first date together. And maybe I wanted a repeat of the steamy evening we had Friday night.

Our second date was just as good as the first. After dinner, I asked if he wanted to come back to my apartment (you know, for tea and crumpets). He obliged; clothes came off. But something just didn’t feel right. I may have been hung up on the fact that he told me his ex wife and kids live around the corner from me or maybe some of the initial physical attraction wore off or maybe I’m a serial dater and will have a hard time settling down… Whatever the reason, it just wasn’t there for me the second time around.

And I kind of hated myself for it. But I also wanted to be as honest with him as possible, especially after what I had been through in my previous relationship. If the situation were reversed, I would prefer a clean break early on. He told me he’d never had anyone break it off on a second date, and especially not while lying naked in bed together. He ran his fingers through my hair, pulled me in close, and told me he didn’t really understand but that he was happy to have met me. It was lovely while it lasted (all of two dates. That might be a new record!) and I sincerely hope to have gained a new friend to go see local live music with.

I am very excited about a date I have tomorrow night with another Match.com guy. I really have a good feeling about this one which means it’s very likely the date will be a total dud and I’ll want to give up on online dating forever. Or until the next phishhead winks at me. Wish me luck!

It’s hard to believe another year is drawing to a close. What I wouldn’t give to slow down the hands of time. But when I reflect back, I see a reel of happy memories from 2010 and it makes me look forward to all that is yet to come in the new year.

I have much to celebrate and be thankful for as I say goodbye to 2010. To the best friends a girl could ask for: thank you for making me laugh and cheering me up when I was too busy feeling sorry for myself. You knew just when a happy hour was in order and told me to get dressed because there was music playing somewhere. Many of you have children of your own and yet you have always managed to make time for our friendship in your hectic schedules. Thank you all, my sweet ones.

To Phish: thank you for providing the soundtrack to my life this past year, for convincing me to go to Wisconsin on a road trip, and the countless hours of sheer bliss I experienced following you from one show—and city—to the next.

To Pinot Grigio and Captain Morgan (the unofficial sponsors of My Pixie Blog): thank you for getting me through some of the hairy, rough patches. You gave me beer goggles, an uninhibited sense of self, and prevented me from controlling the volume of my voice in any setting.

Yoga to the People: thank you for allowing me to find my balance, for teaching me what a personal challenge really is, and for transforming my figure to one I am not ashamed to show off in a bikini.

And last, but certainly not least, thank you to everyone in this amazing blogging community for the supportive comments and love in 2010. You guys rock!

I have three nights of Phish to look forward to this week at the Garden. I’m beyond ecstatic. I hope that whatever your plans are for the new year, that you celebrate with the ones you love. Much love to you all and happy new year!