I just returned from a first — and only — date with a pussy. Man, how I hate these types! These are the men who, within five minutes of my arrival, are completely smitten and begin to behave like puppies, so eager to please me that I could most likely wipe the bottoms of my pumps on their shirts and they’d be so happy about it they’d offer the backs of their shirts for me to wipe my hands on. I’d kick these men in the nutsacks if they had any!

Here’s just a small sample of the dialog from this disaster of a date:

Him: I’m going to get some oysters. Would you like to share them?
Me: I’m not in the mood for oysters tonight, but you enjoy them!
Him: Oh, then I won’t order them.
Me: Oh, please! By all means! Just because I don’t want any doesn’t mean you shouldn’t have any!
Him: Oh, that’s alright; I’ll get something else.
Me: I want you to enjoy yourself! Get the oysters!
Him: It’s okay; I’ll get something else.

Him: I love jazz, and there’s a new jazz club opening uptown tonight. Would you like to go?
Me: I don’t care for jazz, but I’m always up for a new club! Let’s go!
Him: I don’t want to go if you won’t enjoy it.
Me: But I will! I love going to new clubs!
Him: But I don’t want to go if you don’t like jazz.
Me: But you do! We don’t always have to do what I want to do, and I like to see new clubs! (begging) Let’s go to the club!
Him: If you’re suuuuuure you won’t be bored …
Me: (exasperated) I’ll be fine! I swear!

Him: What would you like to drink?
Me: I’ll have a Skye and tonic.
Him: (returning from the bar) They don’t have any Skye vodka. We can go somewhere else.
Me: That’s alright; I’ll drink whatever they have.
Him: That’s okay; you don’t even like jazz. We’ll go somewhere else.
Me: No! It’s perfectly alright. I’ll drink whatever vodka they have. I’m flexible.
Him: I just wish I could show you the good time you deserve.

Bad date; no second date for you! I get so tired of dates who, within five minutes, look at me as if they’ve found their fairy princess, and they turn to mush, and they only want to do what I want to do, and if I said that I wanted to get naked and roll around in dog turds, they’d be more than happy to oblige. Man-up, men! Stop being doormats! It’s not attractive (it’s the exact opposite), and you hate it when a girl becomes clingy and needy and desperate. We’re the same way. Hold back a bit. Besides, you really can’t tell in the first five minutes whether we’re really your dream come true, so quit with the puppy dog thing and do some recon first. Act cool, and even a bit aloof, but for heaven’s sake, don’t be a squishy little muffinhead. It’s gross.