“She's smart, beautiful, funny, etc... her work schedule can be crazy, but that's the only drawback if I'm being totally honest.”

That is part of an email I sent to a guy I wanted to set up with my best friend. I had met him a few nights earlier, over drinks; we talked about writing. Let’s call him “book boy.” He seemed kind and the conversation was easy and comfortable. He made me laugh. We even had a mutual friend who later corroborated my good feelings about him. 

What could possibly go wrong? 

My friend and book boy went out on two dates. He wined her, he dined her, he made out with her. On the second date, he asked her to stay over. The next morning, he walked her outside and put her in a cab home. He said to text when she’s home safe. (A gentleman!) But he couldn't wait those ten minutes, so he texted her before she returned to her place, telling her how much fun he had.

Surely, on some level, book boy was into her.

The night after the second date, when the Giants win the NFC Championship, she texted him a kind of congratulations about his team going to the Super Bowl. He responded in some lame, generic way, suddenly uninterested. Then the two of them never spoke again. 

She’s not brokenhearted—no, not over him she’s not.

But wassup, bro? 

Did you meet someone else? Did you decide after the wine wore off that the date really wasn’t as much fun as you originally thought?

Whatever it may be, tell her. After being set up with someone, the “disappearing act” is disappointing and sometimes damaging to friendships. You can do better.

A simple text—since that’s apparently all you’re capable of anyway—would go a long way in saving your reputation. Just tell her that, while you had a good time, you just don’t see it going anywhere.


We’ve all been on dates with someone we thought we liked, then later lost interest. It happens. But stories like these make me wonder what has happened to normal, decent human behavior. 

To the guys committing stereotypical, clueless dating crimes I say: Wassup, bro?

There was “the lawyer,” a guy who told my friend that he’s an attorney at a certain prominent corporate law firm. Turns out he’s a paralegal at another office.

Wassup, bro?

There was the “frat boy,” the guy who told my friend he was 32 when they met. She didn’t bat an eyelash because she had no reason to doubt him based on the rest of their initial conversation. But when he called her the next day, she looked him up on Facebook—and unless he’s lying there, he was born in January of 1990. Homeboy is 22.

Wassup, bro? 

Lying isn’t worth it. You have to be savvier than that—especially when things like your age or work history are a mere click away.


Another friend emailed to tell me about this horribly awkward second date she went on. She said, "He kept trying to kiss me, and touch me, and we were READING IN THE PARK. Even if I WAS interested in him (which I wasn’t), it was so awkward I'd have lost interest. I had NO IDEA how to cut it short!"

Wassup, bro?

Slow your roll. Read the signals she’s sending you. There’s a time and a place for everything, but there are also reasons why cops patrol parks.


A friend of mine was supposed to meet a guy for dinner last week at 8. He set it up earlier in the week—picked the place, time, everything—then when date night rolled around, 8 came and went. At 8:15 he texted her: “Sorry, running a few minutes late. Is 8:30 cool?”

Is 8:30 cool? NO. It is absolutely not cool.

Wassup, bro?

The proper time to tell someone you’re running late and or push back the time of a date is (at least) fifteen minutes before the date is supposed to start. It is never fifteen minutes after. Never.

If you are that insensitive to another person’s time, you shouldn’t be dating in the first place.


Then there was one of my all-time favorites: “What Up” guy, who I dated much longer than I ever should have last year. As you may have guessed, he was only capable of texting the phrase “What Up” – which reminds me of The Sopranos scene where Meadow is playing Scrabble with her boyfriend, and the only words he can think of are "ass," "the," and "poo."

I never knew how to respond. But now I do.

Wassup, bro?

In two weeks: How about we, or, how about not?

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