**Note from the blogger: the following post is the first of a 3-part series based on a recent experience.

Dating can be like watching a baseball game that goes into the 16th inning. You’re trying hard to enjoy the game, wearing your ball cap and eating $10 hot dogs, but the charm of America’s favorite past time—summertime, hot dogs, 7th inning stretch—has worn off. It’s not until 3 am that you realize you’re wasting your time watching a game that won’t really mean anything in the overall standings of your life.

If only you could cram all that “dating” into one inning. You can. It’s called a road trip.

A road trip is a great way to get to know someone in the shortest amount of time. It’s like throwing a date into a pressure cooker—turn it on high and you’ll quickly melt away all the propriety and superficial behavior to reveal true character traits and idiosyncrasies—all at rapid speed.

So why waste 3 months nibbling at the relationship when you can know whether he’s a winner in a week?

And yes, it has to be at least a week. None of this 3-day weekend crap to your family reunion at the lake 2 and half hours away. I’m talking about covering some serious mileage together.

You must plan a road trip similar to the following: 10+ days together, in a compact car (preferably from 1990 or before), sleeping in tent. Only the two of you are on the trip, so only the two of you are the source of conversation. Showers are limited. So should be your cell phone reception. He is there when you wake up in the morning. He is there when you fall asleep. He is…(temporarily)…your life. 

I have just returned from exactly that…with a guy I just met…

The comment from Some Dude on my last post (let’s call him Adam) is the perfect segway into the next post I was planning to write. Adam wrote that he knows more about color compliments than I do, which to me, is kind of weird. I don’t like it when guys know more about fashion than I do.

I feel this way for a couple of reasons:
1) Guys are supposed to be guys—they should like sports, war movies, and fast food. They shouldn’t be worried about what brand of jeans they are wearing.
2) It takes away attention on me being considered the pretty one.

I think it’s kind of endearing when a guy dresses like a dork. It’s like the beautiful actress in the ugly duckling teen movies who grows out her eyebrows and wears glasses and we’re supposed to think she is ugly. But as soon as you pluck the brows, take off the glasses, and throw on some lipgloss, she magically transforms into the hottest girl in school. That’s what I want—but instead of a beautiful actress a cute guy that wears white athletic socks with a suit.

There are some girls that LOVE guys with style. Nothing gets them going like a guy in a great suit. But if the guy is already a good dresser, you never have the chance to help him and use such lines as “well, you sure clean up nice.”

But make sure you feel it out first before you give him a makeover. Some guys would want you to leave them alone. But if he’s secure enough, and has a sense of humor, he’ll be a good sport about it.

And they are only two things you really need to fix: jeans and footwear. Cute guys look good in just t-shirts and jeans. The t-shirts they can handle. You just step in and help them with the jeans. Make sure they aren’t tapered and don’t stop at their ankle. Regarding footwear, teach them to match their socks and shoes and that sandals should be worn only with bare feet.

Now it’s not to say that I’m writing off all guys who wear designer jeans. I’ve dated guys in the past who were into style. They actually liked to go shopping. With one in particular, I saw this black-and-white photo of him in his room. He was wearing a black turtleneck, and his gaze was staring off into the distance. It was suppose to be serious, but in fact I found it quite pathetic. I remember complimenting him more on his looks than he complimenting me.

**So when dating Jenny, be a good sport. She means no harm. She’ll even let you teach her how to fix a fan belt or fly fish—if you want.

Having all these free time being unemployed, I have a good dosing of surfing the Internet everyday. One day searching for ways to make myself more attractive to the opposite sex, I read that orange makeup is the best color for blue eyes. I thought “orange??…eck.” But I learned that orange is on the opposite side of blue on the color wheel, which means it contrasts the most with blue—making it really pop out.

So during a little shopping adventure in downtown San Francisco last weekend, I saw a Sephora store and thought to try this color theory out. Sephora is like a candy store for the face. With all its colors and flavors, you want to sample everything. But beware—this is unsupervised sampling. I realized this while I was trying on a “Pumpkin” eyeshadow when I noticed a homeless person next to my right spraying himself with the perfume samples. Then I noticed on my left a transvestite sampling a tube of red lipstick (gotta love San Fran). I was following hygienically best practices using a q-tip and cotton ball, so when I looked down at the q-tip covered with orange eyeshadow in my hand, I thought “oh gross.” I wanted to walk out of there but was kind of trapped, and I was afraid of either being mugged or bitchslapped if I rudely rushed by. So I waited and pondered about sampling.

An advantage of still being single is that I can still sample. Married people have made their purchase—but I’m still in the buying process. Sometimes it’s still fun to sample without ever having any intention to buy. I sometimes purposely walk into a cookie shop and ask for a sample. As I slowly chew my free treat, I try to look like I’m intently thinking about what to buy, only to sneak away when the cookie lady got tired of waiting for my order or became distracted with a real customer. Sometimes I’m “thinking” for a long time and have to ask for additional samples until I have an exit. (These are not my proudest moments.) It’s similarly hard to sneak away when sampling a guy. Saying, “thanks, but no thanks” can be awkward. It’s easier to either wait for the guy to get distracted with another girl or finally give up waiting for you to “decide” your schedule. Regardless how you exit, I always thank him for the sample.

Back at Sephora, the man/woman finally said something like this color was hideous and strutted off. I decided I was done sampling, grabbed my Pumpkin eyeshadow, and shuffled off to the register.

**So if you’re dating Jenny, you may just be a sample. But who knows? You might just be the orange eyeshadow she wasn’t expecting to compliment her—but did.

Okay, soo I had my date. It was nothing special—just a quick lunch. This guy is actually really nice, and I really didn’t want to offend him, but I was determine to plant some “seeds of iniquity” so he’d see I wasn’t the girl for him.

I had no desire for a soft drink, but I ordered a Dr. Pepper anyway. Not that caffeine is that big of a deal, but I thought it was a good warm up.

Okay…I have to get across that I sometimes watch rated R movies, I’m voting for Obama, and I laugh with gay comedians.

So, my first topic of conversation:

“Thanks for being flexible with changing the times all around…” (I had to reschedule from dinner to lunch because I got last-minute tickets to meet the NPR commentator Juan Williams—nerdy I know.)
“I was planning to go see the movie Appaloosa this afternoon. Have you seen it?”
“No, I haven’t heard of it.”
“Ah, it looks like one of those old-time, bad-guy-verses-good-guy westerns. Did you ever see 3:10 to Yuma?”
“No.”
“Oh, it’s like that.”
“I don’t really watch movies.”

Is he against all movies in general? Hmmm…change of topic. Let’s drop the Democrat bomb:

“So I got tickets to meet Juan Williams tonight. He’s a NPR commentator who I’ve seen on all the news networks.”
“Don’t know him” (That’s okay. Only my dad knew who he was.)
“I really like him.”
“So you’re into politics.”
“Not usually, but I think this election has been very interesting. I haven’t decided who I am going to vote for, but I’m leaning towards Obama.”

I couldn’t really tell his reaction from this one. Actually, I couldn’t really tell his reaction from anything I said. Let’s try another.

“So this weekend I’m going to San Francisco. I’m going to see David Sedaris with my sister-in-law. Have you heard of him?”
“No.”
“I’m not sure what he is. He’s a comedian and a writer. He has a few books out that are pretty funny. I just bought one called Naked. He’s gay but it doesn’t dominate his humor—but who know’s if he lets loose in San Fran!”

He nods his head and looks down. I take that as a sign of judgment. Yes!

As for swearing? It crossed my mind, but I was too chicken to say something like “damn” or “ass” in front of him. I was making him uncomfortable enough as it is.

Okay, it was kind of a weak (and stupid) experiment. But my whole point of it was to prove that I fell from a different tree, and I shouldn’t be critized for not being interested. I thanked him sincerely for lunch, and we went our ways. I hope he doesn’t call, for then I would have to do the mature thing and actually tell him how I feel.

**So if you’re on a date with Jenny, and you feel the same way she does, show her your worst—you Sabbath-day-football-watching sinner you.

I feel a little bad about my last post. I really hope this guy doesn’t google my name and find it. Anyhoo, after reading my cousin’s comment on my last post (Hi Kelly!), I want to continue to discuss this topic of “pickiness.” So, let’s dive into this a little deeper and talk about The List.

The List refers to the list of attributes or traits a girl wants to find in a man, and I’ve broken it down into 3 different tiers.

• Must-Haves: The no-exceptions rules. These include religion, family aspirations, morals, some personality traits, etc.

• Nice-to_Haves: Things that are desirable in a mate but not deal breakers. These include common interests, family background, physical features, job, money habits, etc.

• Definitely-Nots: things that make you say “I would rather die a horrible death than marry that guy.” These include mental illnesses, addictions, really bad personality traits, etc.

The List is derived from experiences from previous relationships. For example, I seriously dated a guy who suffered from clinical depression, and it was horrible. So one of my Definitely-Nots is depression. Sorry, I just don’t think I can deal with it. Or let’s consider my best friend. Her List states the guy has to be a professional. She is a professional herself (a lawyer), and it’s just been a problem for her in the past dating guys who are insecure and intimidated by her success.

Granted, some items on The List are superficial like  “6’ is my minimum” or “he has to save the world from terrorists.” This is often a result of watching too many romantic movies. But The List changes over time as you live and learn what really matters and what doesn’t. Now I want someone who “holds my hair back when I’m puking” or “isn’t in a bad mood all the time.”

So when you say we’re “picky,” it’s because we know ourselves. We know what makes us happy and what doesn’t. The other day I asked my dad, “What would you think if I married a humble sports coach who made only $40,000 a year,” to which he replied, “it all depends on the guy.” Yup, it’s about the guy. He’s when everything you thought you cared about goes right out the window.

**So if you want to date Jenny, you have to be 6’ tall, 185 lbs, thick hair and beautiful blue eyes, and your second toe can’t be longer than the first. You must either be a doctor or a lawyer who won a NCAA title in tennis in college and started a non-profit organization helping women start small businesses in Africa. You also have to bake a killer chocolate cake (but not vanilla), speak French and Chinese, and play Stairway to Heaven upside down with your eyes closed.

Just kidding!

A couple weeks ago I had a lunch date with some guy who also worked downtown—as an accountant. This is significant because an accountant is the one profession I just can’t…well…date. It’s a horrible prejudice, I know, but I just can’t listen to someone talk about their day if it involves accounts payable, ledgers, or accrued expenses.

Maybe I’m being unfair to accountants. They do have one thing going for them—employment. So what if they sold out in life choosing a profession with absolutely no personal satisfaction. They are doing an honest day’s work to pay the bills, right? And maybe I really don’t have the right to say anything at all considering the fact I lost my job last week. It is during these hard economic times that the accountants are keeping their jobs and over half of the marketing departments are getting cut loose.

Wait…hold on one minute. I just realized something. Maybe there is more to this. Maybe the accountants are the conspirators behind this whole recession and subsequent job lay-offs. I mean…they walk around a lot more miserable at work than us creative, fun marketing people. Perhaps out of their ugly jealousy they are getting back at those of us who like our jobs by taking them away. Think about it. They control the numbers that determine the decisions such as lay offs! They are conspiring against anyone who is happy– and they are starting with marketing.

Ultimately, I don’t care what a guy does as long as 1) he loves it and 2) it’s not accounting. Yes, there are some accountants who do get a sick thrill out of balancing debits and credits, but that makes me even more suspicious.

**So if you date Jenny, please be a schoolteacher, circus owner, dog trainer, helicopter pilot, soccer coach, or anything else. Just don’t be an accountant (or work at Abercrombie and Fitch).

Everyone has his or her own communication style when it comes to dating. Some are traditional and call the person of interest on the phone. Others feel more comfortable without face-to-face contact and use text messaging, email or IM. Or, like my very first boyfriend, some guys will have his friend call you for him.

Over the past couple years, I’ve noticed guys more and more inclined to send girls text messages and emails rather than phone calls. Not that I’m against text messaging in the slightest. I think it is great way to subtly flirt. However, I warn my friends to be mindful of your texting as you may end up sending a message to someone that wasn’t for them.

Let me share with you a story, a really embarrassing story, that happened to me about a year ago. I was just starting to hang out with a guy, who was a texter. I think I received maybe 2 actual phone calls from him, but he would text regularly. Going with the flow, I would text back, and we had some pretty long text conversations (I carelessly neglected my quota and ended up paying an extra $50 on my phone bill that month.)

Anyhoo, one day I was at work thinking about the current situation with this guy. Not really sure how to handle my feelings or proceed, I texted my best friend Libby, who was currently living in Hawaii, for some advice.

“I think I like {name} too much, and I don’t know how to play it cool.”

I instinctively scrolled through my phonebook and—by habit—I sent the text to HIM! As I was realizing what just happened, a fear of panic came over me as I watched the little envelope with wings fly away on my cell phone. I thought of throwing my phone against the wall hoping to kill the message in flight, but I instead yelled “Sh**! sh**! sh**!” at the top of my voice. (I had my headphones on blasting to Muse, and I wasn’t able to gauge the volume of my voice.) My co-workers all turned around with a looks of offense and shock. Being in shock myself, I immediately apologized and left the cube area to go outside to appease my stomach ache and the oncoming panic attack.

Well, the guy, being a text messager, replied,

“Well, for starters, you can stop sending him text messages like that.”

Humiliated, I said,

“Um, yeah, that text message wasn’t suppose to go to you. And I am really embarrassed right now. And I really hate technology.”

To which he responded,

“No worries, Jenny. You’re a lot of fun, but don’t expect anything serious from me.”

Well, at least I knew what to do—no need to worry about playing it cool anymore. Looking back at how this slip could have happened, I came up with the following conclusion: Since we were texting so much, I had developed strong circuit wires or neuron pathways in my brain that associated thoughts of this guy with text messaging. In other words, because I was thinking about the guy when I sent this text message, my brain, by habit, was used to sending any text messages associated with him—to him.

Needless to say, nothing much happened afterward with the guy. He moved away and on to other girls not long after. So what did I learn from this? Be mindful with text messaging. Use it appropriately, but if a guy doesn’t make the effort to call, he’s probably like this one—just not that into you (nice plug for that book!)

**So if you want to date Jenny, just call her.

If you were presented with two slices of chocolate cake—one is cut nicely, garnished and served with a glass of milk, the other looks like it was scooped by hand and plopped on a plate—which would you choose? Even though they would both taste the same, you’d choose the pretty one, right?

Well, apply this notion to a guy deciding which girl to ask out. Is he going to ask the girl with the cute clothes, curls, and pretty makeup? Or is he going to ask the girl with the unflattering clothes, disheveled hair, and dark circles under her eyes? Even though they are the same person on the inside, the messy girls are shoved aside.

I shared this Chocolate Cake Theory with my co-workers after repeated quips about my messy hair. I told them it’s annoying to have to do the 45-minute routine day after day, so I often resort to just 5 minutes. My faithfully honest co-workers, as sweet as they appear, try to help me out. They feel I sometimes forget about my “situation” and remind me of the Chocolate Cake Theory. If I come into work with wet hair and/or no make-up, they’ll say, “Aw, Jenny, what did we talk about with chocolate cake?” or, “Jenny, we’re having a group picture tomorrow, so remember the chocolate cake.” However, they do reward me with praise, “Yeah, Jenny! Bringin’ out the chocolate cake!”

(To illustrate how honest they are, the first time I came to work without makeup, my co-worker Frank said to me, “Jenny! What happened to your face?!” And please note that I wasn’t offended and my self-esteem is just fine.)

I found out yesterday that someone secretly told my co-workers, “Ya know, Jenny can sometimes look really hot…and not.” I didn’t really know how to take that, but I thought it was funny. I guess I present two different types of chocolate cake. See, the thing is that I’m very fair. Not the Guinevere type of fair, but the pale-skin, light eyebrows/eyelashes, I-can-hardly-see-your-face type of fair. Very vanilla. Maybe in my case, I should call it the Vanilla Cake Theory.

So the moral of all this? Try. It’s somewhat about presentation. But find someone who loves you without makeup.

**So if you date Jenny, remember she has two different slices of chocolate cake. But whichever slice she presents, you’ll soon realize she is full of ooey-gooey, chocolately goodness.

My poor mother. I think my singledom affects her more than anyone else. When she looks at me, I can see the sadness in her face: “where did I go wrong?” Back in the day, my mom had many suitors. She was married at 21 (engagement picture below), and by the time she was my age, she had 3 kids. And here I am, her daughter, in my late twenties, single, and without any prospects—the exact opposite of her.

I really don’t know how I want my mother to be involved in my dating life. For starters, she tells everyone about her finder’s fee of $1,000. (The match has to result in marriage, mind you.) But my mom is bi-polar when it comes to my dating. Whenever people suggests they know someone to set me up with it, my mom immediately says, “We’ll take him!” Another example: one time I was quietly inquiring about a guy at a family function. My mom was standing by listening, and when she heard he was a skier and going to med school, my mom shouts out loud, “Jenny, he’s the One!” It was like one of those moments when the jukebox stops, the whole room goes silent, and everyone turns their heads towards YOU.

But on the other hand, I’ve never dated anyone she’s really liked. “He’s a nice guy Jenny, but I just don’t think he’s it. She has even gone to the extreme of arranging a date when I was steadily seeing someone else. Tell me, how awkward is it when you are hanging out with your guy when some waiter she met last night calls to ask you out? Usually my boyfriends sensed what was going on and broke up with me first. (But thanks, Mom, it was a blessing in the end.)

My mom has a thing for waiters. She leaves my number on restaurant receipts. She tries to secretly give the waiter a nod in my direction. One time, she relentlessly pursued some cheesy beefcake from “SoCal” until he finally agreed to go out with me. (We have quite different tastes.)

Last week when we were eating at CPK, a quasi-cute, super-smiley waiter served our table. After he took our order with way too much enthusiasm, I looked at my mom and said, “NO!” before she could even say anything. She started laughing. “I know what you’re thinking, and NO!” If it were up to my mom, she would have asked the guy out there for me right on the spot.

Back in college, whenever I mention that I’ve met a new guy, she interjects, “well, did you tell him you’re a ski instructor at Deer Valley,” thinking the guy would immediately fall in love because I was a skier. “No Mom, my first words to the guy were not, ‘did you know I’m a ski instructor at Deer Valley?’” Sheesh.

Sometimes I tease my mom by saying, “Mom! I’ve met somebody!” and when she gets all excited, I then say “just kidding!” She tells me I’m too old to be joking about this anymore. She often threatens she’s going to take over the situation and put me in an arranged marriage.

But I try to take her behavior with a good heart. A lot of my motivation for finding a nice guy is not only to make me happy but also make my mom happy. She’s been through a lot in life, and I know she’ll rest easy if I marry a nice guy. I do believe moms have a sixth sense when it comes to their offspring. She’s been right about everyone so far. So when it comes down to the nitty gritty of dating, my mom is the only person I will really trust.

**So if you date Jenny, you’ll probably have to meet her mom, but probably not until you are practically engaged. That’s how both my older brothers handled it.

There is a misperception that if you start a book, you HAVE to finish it. I have been a victim to this, until recently. I was reading a book about the history of salt. I thought it might be interesting. It wasn’t. Overall, it was pretty boring. But I was determined to finish the book. Why? Because I started it. So as painful as it was, I kept reading—until I remembered my economics class from college.

Economic theory states that when the cost of something exceeds the benefit, you should stop doing or consuming that something. Apply this theory to my reading of The History of Salt, and I should stop—even with one chapter left. Why? Because the cost of time wasted reading that book was greater than the benefit received from reading it. So I put the book down. I guess I overestimated the joy of learning about the socioeconomic effect of salt mining in 6^th century China.

It may appear that I’m weak, or I’m the one losing out by not finishing the book, or I don’t have the character to finish what I’ve started. On the contrary. I am the winner. I’m the winner because I was strong enough to RECOGNIZE that by continuing to read that book, I was losing opportunities to do other things more valuable with my time.

To illustrate my point, I created the graph below.

As you can see, I continued reading to the point where the time spent and the opportunity cost was greater than the joy I received from reading. In other words, I should have put down the book a long time ago.

Please note that it DOESN’T matter that I’ve already invested all those hours. Those are sunk costs. They can’t be part of my decision whether or not I should continue to about the history of salt. My decision has to be based on what’s the most valuable to me in the future—and it was NOT finishing that book.

I’ve applied this theory in other aspects of life—including dating. If the cost of spending another minute with a guy is greater than the benefit he offers me, I stop dating him. For example, even if the guy takes me to nice dinners or buys me gifts, those benefits still don’t outweigh the cost of having to listen to him talk about how he’s the greatest lawyer ever to walk the face of the earth. I also created another graph to illustrate this:

As you can see in this graph, I’m a lot better at recognizing when to call it quits with a guy than I am with a book

I loved that econ class. It taught me how to maximize every decision with the economics of life. The result? I’m now spending my time enjoying a really funny book about an agnostic man who tried to live the Bible as literally as possible. And I’m now dating nobody.

**So if you’re on a date with Jenny, and she starts what appears to be doodling on a napkin, don’t think she’s drawing pretty flowers. She’s probably doing some cost/benefit analysis of whether or not it’s worth spending any more time with you that evening