What to wear

The dreaded dress code: it comes up when you are thumbing through a Zagat or a CitiGuide (you do have a Zagat Guide don’t you?) Personally, I have never found it too much of a problem, if jeans aren’t ok, then chances are you aren’t going to really find me there. I have been to some places though where this thing called a coat and noose (tie) are called for. Most unpleasant, but I am here to impart some knowledge as to how one can pull it off.

Step 1. Look in your closet. Do you see a suit? Good you have a suit, good for you, congratulations. On top of that you should have a blue blazer, velvet is in this season, but cotton is classic. Whatever, you should have a blue coat. Now this is important. Take your blue coat to a tailor/dry cleaner and say, “please take these nasty-ass god-awful gold buttons off this coat and please put some blue ones on it.” Once you pick up your coat, you will be the proud owner of a blue blazer that doesn’t look like you walked off of a yacht or out of your 1st communion photos.

Step 2. Learn to tie a noose/tie. Double Windsor, Single Windsor, just google them, and know them.

Step 3. Look at your shirts, the ones that have collars, and the ones that are polos. Never wear a polo with a coat, few people can pull it off well. So help you God if you try. Now if you are going to try to wear one of these oxford button-down type shirts without a tie, leave the top button undone, and this is the important part: wear a v-neck undershirt underneath. You should see no white shirt. That just looks sloppy man.

Step 4. Don’t pop your fucking collar.

Step 5. Re-read step 4, un-pop your collar now, say 10 Hail-Mary’s

Step 6. Pants. Length is crucial here, there should be a break on the top of your shoe. Men wear pants that are chronically short, they think that they should come up to the middle of the shoe, and they end up looking like Milton from Office Space. Not cool dude. They should be clean too. And unless you are wearing a suit, the pants shouldn’t match the color of the coat, because then you have to deal with contrast in texture and slight differences in color. Again, it just looks sloppy.

Step 7. Socks. Alright there are going to be some people that disagree here. My take is that men match the color of socks to the pants, and that women match the color of socks to the shoes. My younger brother matches the color of socks to the shoes and is dating the daughter of a Lebanese Princess. Go figure. So… I guess it is up to you.

Step 8. Own some nice shoes.

Now all of these are moot if you are like me and avoid places that require such niceties like the plague. Or just show up to some nice place in jeans and a blazer and when the maitre d’ coughs at you just say, “excuse me” and move on. They need your money. (you did bring some money right?)

Getting Shot Down

Are you a sadist? Want to read the story of a man being taken in a chewed up by a bar wench? Click here, I won’t tell.

The Heisman

Heisman: v. 1. To be shoved off. 2. Denied. 3. To be shot down in a bar. 4. To go in for the kiss and get the cheek, not the lips. 5. To have a martini thrown in your face. Use in sentence. Dude, you totally were given the heisman tonight. Or No way she most definitely heismaned me.

Watch out for the heisman kids. It destroys dreams and kills the mood of the evening, unless of course you are the one doling out the stiff arm…

Dating in McMahon

There really are two types of dates that one can go on here. Good ones and Bad ones. I know it may be kind of simple to be so presumptuous about the lack of dating action that the people at this school get (not that they don’t get action hehe, but dating action specifically). I think first it would be important to define good dates. Good dates should be comfortable, meaning that neither party feels the need to not be themselves.

If I even thought about taking a girl to Tavern on the Green, that would be a bad date, I hate that place, and wouldn’t be caught dead there, not to mention the food is bad, and that my credit card was declined and my girlfriend had to help out with the tab … so embarrassing. That would be a bad date.

Here is another bad date, you are sitting in the movie theatre and the (hot) lady actor comes on the screen, you pitch a tent and the girl notices, gets offended, and throws her Diet Coke in your face, you have to watch the rest of the movie by yourself whilst sitting in Coke. That was not fun.

Good dates? Hmm, they should be cheap there should be no worrying about fighting over who gets to pay the check, I am a fan of dive restaurants, good food, terrible atmosphere, and you really get to enjoy the person that you are with. Hotdogs and tatertots with a PBR in the East Village … totally awesome just like grade school, except for the beer thing … well for most of us.

Or the time you sneaked into … any story that starts with this line is gonna be a top 10 date. Whether it is crashing an Asian wedding in Central Park (bonus points if you wait in the reception line and get a photo), a movie premier, a Fordham Alumni event where your name tag read Heywood Jabloweme and you made off with some free food and booze, if the story starts with “One time we snuck into….” You are golden.

The “non-date” dates are pretty awesome too, watching Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles with friends, even cooler if there are baked goods served. Or walking to a friend to work, even if it means that you have to trek way over to the East Side, those can be pretty much the coolest ever.

So I guess after that pretty much retarded rant you come up with: go places where you are comfortable.

The face grab

If you're at a bar, and you've had a few drinks, you may be a candidate for what we here at the The Guy's Guide, affectionately call, the "face grab."

If you're talking to a girl and you've just spouted some brilliance or you made fun of the fact that she lives on the East Side, or you just danced with her for the entire duration of "Redneck Woman" or you made a really lame joke, but she's so drunk that she thinks it might be funny, you may be rewarded with some hand-to-face action.

Now a guy may misinterpret this move, so lets make it clear.

The one-handed face grab= "Aww, you're so cute! And I so have a boyfriend"

The two-handed face grab= "Kiss me right NOW"

Use it wisely, my friends.

The Songs We Love to Hate

It’s time for one of these posts. It happens to be that when you are at a bar, with some dude playing CD’s (not even a respectable jukebox mind you) that the songs are gonna be a bit awkward. They might play some pop, some reggae, throw some country in there, maybe a little rap, some Beastie Boys, it is gonna be all over the place like a bad kisser. So here it is the (non) definitive list of Songs-I-should-not-know-in-a-bar-but-sing-at-the-top-of-my-lungs-anyways
-cause-there-are-ladies-around. (feel free to add your own in the comments)

1. Anything by Britney, Christina, Ashley Simpson (eh, or you could lip sing like she does…), if Ricky Martin comes on, just go man, the night is over.
2. Now, some Madonna songs are acceptable, I was informed tonight that ‘like a prayer’ is ok for a guy to know, but if you are singing along to material girl, fuck dude, pop your collar and raise your cosmo-apple-polin-tini.
3. Backstreet Boys probably were covered in the first post, but if you are shouting out “as long as you love me” (and know the dance steps … I am so ashamed of myself right now) then you might as well admit that you are never going to be happy until Wham! gets back together. Go ahead just admit it.
4. Remember Seal? Unfortunately so do I, that was a trend that I am glad died. Emphasis on “dead” here, down be the guy that go asks to hear “crazy” and sing it with the hand motions, you and number 2 boy should get along fine.
5. If M.C. Hammer comes on and you hi-five your boys, don’t feel bad when it isn’t reciprocated. I don’t think anymore needs to be said, except that dammit guys, why didn’t you tell me that M.C. Hammer was no longer cool, I can’t believe that you left me in the dark like that.

So there, I’ve done it, guys in bars looking for love? If you know these songs, just know them on the inside. Maybe go over to the D.J. slip him a fiver and get some U2, maybe some Bon Jovi, something that will allow you to raise your pint over your head and not feel ashamed.

When to Call

Over here I answered the age old question of when to call after getting a number, if you want to read the answer in 889 words click here. If you want to just know the answer: whenver you feel like it, just don't be an ass like Mikey in Swingers.

Desperation is a dirty word

Friends don’t let friends be desperate. No one likes the desperate dude so I think we should do the run down of desperate behavior so you know the warning signs. Have a dried herring ready so you can slap that desperate smirk off of your desperate friends face.
1. Desperate friends are constantly bemoaning the fact that they don’t get laid. Ok we get it, man it is supply and demand, there is only so much action to be had out there. Truth be told the only people who get some with regular fashion are guys with no scruples or guys in a relationship. That is just the way it is.
2. Desperate friends spend a lot of time blogging. Goddammit….
3. Desperate friends are never called “the chef” … that’s right bitches, take that!
4. Desperate friends make plans all the time, sometimes it is a matter of setting up FaceBook parties where you are the only person RSVPing, or sending out E-mails asking if people would want to be in a Spec Heineken Commercial and they don’t reply … ok that second one isn’t desperate, but the first one is.
5. Desperate friends offer to buy “the ladies” drinks, and when they say “the ladies” they aren’t doing it in an ironic ‘80s porn star fashion.
6. Desperate friends invite you over for baked goods at 2AM in the morning when all you want is a hotdog, curly fries, and a slice of pizza, in that order.
7. Desperate friends ask you to get together “a posse” some “dames” some “chicks” a “couple of birds” some “ladies” (again without the ironic porn-star-mustache-ride voice), a “couple of your friends,” etc. I may be pimptastic (not really, such a lie) but I am not your pimp and will not pimp out my friends to your desperate ass.

So what do you do if you have a desperate friend? Let them down lightly, calmly look them in the eye and say, “look, I love you, but you are kind of creeping me out here. You are a drain on my emotions (I am stuck in a glass box of emotion … haha) and I think that the reason why you are so desperate is because you are acting desperate. If you wouldn’t try so hard, things will come.” At least that is what love-sensei JAC would say and BigRed would confirm, or at least that is what they told me the other night. Except for the glass box of emotion, that was my addition.

Money

We never have enough, we want more, someone always wants it. That's the name of the game, especially here in New York. JAC over at NyDating has breached the topic of who needs to pay for a date. Now earlier I breached the topic over who buys drinks when meeting someone. My basic conclusion is that the first round is on the person who asked. And I would like to think that the similar rules apply to dates in general. Simply put, if you ask, you should offer to pay. Note, that I said you should offer to pay, didn't say you have to pay.

If it looks like it is going to be a multiple date evening, i.e. drinks, movie, dinner, cuddling, etc then it may be best to break it up into segments, I get the drinks, you get the movie, I get the dinner check (you could always offer to get the tip, guys love that), then we share the cuddling. (Unless you ditch me for the better looking guy at the bar ... Damn you Bob... If only I were Justice Guy.) Seriously though, it never hurts to share. And ladies, don't leave us for some Doctor named Bob, that hurts so bad ... Right in the pancreas.

What to do when you stop looking?

My man JAC got it right; the best way to find something is to stop looking (Just another reason why I'm convinced that Locke on LOST is our savior.) But that's certainly easier to believe, and to advise, in hindsight. That's not to say I don't believe it. I do. In fact, I believe that enjoying the processes of life while not worrying about results is one of the best ways to find happiness, and ironically, the results that you were looking for.

In theory, this is all wonderful. But in practice, it's not always so easy. I've been there since the first date between JAC and his girlfriend. Watching them develop as a couple has been quite the experience. At times, it's been incredibly difficult to be around. I mean, who really wants to see two people in love on a bed next to them when their girlfriend has just cheated on them? Or when they're really feeling lonely?

"Baby talk? Again?

"Dude, come on, she already said her prayers!"

But, kidding aside, it's also been a great experience. To see firsthand that love can be everything it's cracked up to be validates everything I'd like to believe in. It allows me to sit here and say that you should stop looking. It gives hope that the world is a good place, and that good things come to those who wait.

I've never been more ready for a relationship. And It's never proved quite so elusive. I've met some pretty cool ladies along the way who have raised my standards. But since the right thing to do is not look for it, what am I supposed to do?

I have no obligations right now, so what better time than to do the things that I love to do? What better time than to create projects, go on road-trips, get in great shape, explore the city, and focus on my career? All of those things will make me a better person, and hopefully more ready for that special lady when she comes around. (Or realizes that the guy she's dating really is an asshole..)There are times, I think, when you're not meant to be in a relationship and I think it's a disservice to yourself if you spend that time wishing it were otherwise.

So for those of you out there who are frustrated with the absence of a relationship, or lack of datable fellas in the city,I challenge you to take the time to learn about yourself and do the things that you love to do.

When you're really involved in that, you won't care so much about looking, and at the very least, you'll have some interesting things to say when he/she taps you on the shoulder.

College Romance

Over here I talk about what I think of romance in general. I.e. is chivalry dead and all that crap. Woe is me. But honestly this post is for the ladies (as I slip the coat hanger up her thigh - Stephen Lynch) and for the men who would like to land the ladies. Let’s sum it up in a few rules.

1. You are not fucking Casanova. Say it to yourself. I am in college. College girls like dollar drafts, beer pong champions, and boys with popped collars. Ok. Not so much on the fuckers with popped collars, but dollar drafts and beer pong - solid.

2. College friges should only contain Champagne if it is of the $7.00 Elrige wine and spirits variety. The exception to said rule is if you are celebrating i.e. anniversaries, end of finals, Thursday evening.

3. Bottle of vodka in freezer, Absolut if you want to come across as classy (although this person will know that you have a shitty taste in vodka and you only bought Absolute because it was slightly more expensive than Smirnoff ... Snob) Feel free to keep a bottle of Grey Goose, Ketel, or Belvedere in your dresser for yourself. Same goes if you are going to have whiskey. A bottle of Jack or Jim Beam does you fine.

4. You are not fucking Casanova. Candles and Jazz, no. Candles maybe, but only if your room smells like ass and you need the potpourri (disclaimer: you are not allowed to get caught with candles in McMahon Hall). Jazz? OK maybe for a boy's night you go to LC Jazz then out for a beer, or if you are awesome, you have a beer at LC Jazz. But jazz in the dorms does not equal panty droppage. Period.

5. Do not walk up to a random girl and ask what her opinion is on the US involvement in Opium trafficking in South East Burma. Whilst you may think it is pertinent and hot dinner conversation, at some point we are not going to care. Seriously, same goes true with your opinions on homoerotic tendencies of Greek poets. These are conversation killers. In a specific conversation feel free to pontificate about your Classical language knowledge and the nuances of Reagan's economic policy in South East Asia. When we are debating the hypothetical bout between sea cucumber and starfish, now is not the time.

6. Again, with the Casanova, we get the idea. Don't be the guy who shows up to dollar drafts wearing a blazer, tie, cufflinks, loafers and no socks. That t-shirt and jeans that you had on 2 days ago will do you just fine someone is going to spill beer on your anyways.

7. Kind of specific for the LC man (you know who you are). The old joke was that you would steal your hair products from your girlfriend. Stop with it already. Put down the pomade, and natural conditioning shampoo with lanolin extract. Buy soap cause it washes, use some goddam deodorant, and brush your teeth. If you own some Axe Body spray, give up now; you have so far to catch up that this list would have to be 43 more items long. If you have ever been described by the fairer sex as "shiny" you have a problem.

8. Finally 8, I have ranted about what I thought was not romantic, finally something that is. Being your fucking self. Not being some creepy asshole trying to come across as Benjamin Braddock, the man "old for his years." This is not free license to be a jerk or a slob and it doesn't mean that you have to hang out only at the LP without venturing to Stone Rose, Bar Masa, Vintage, or the Speakeasy. Those are fantastic places to have a one-drink evening with good friends. And if you do decide to take a lady there make sure that you know her, and know her well enough that she is going to enjoy the more intimate atmosphere. It adds more pressure to the whole situation causing everyone to feel like they have to perform more.

First Kisses

Everyone remembers their first kiss. Mine was Jenny Garner, it was the 4th grade, we were playing on the playground and she pinned me in the grass and planted a wet one on my face. I think her posse of girl friends dared her to do it. Up until middle school I felt that kissing me was an initiation right, a result of a dare, or the price of a lost bet. It wasn’t until I was getting ready for High School that I experienced my first First Kiss.

I had been “dating” Andy for a couple of months. (Read: being dropped off at the movies by her parents, or being dropped off at her house then picked up by my older brother type dating). If we had gone to the same school we would have had lunch together and held hands in the hallways. It was one of those cute relationships where you learn a lot about yourself and the mechanics of maintaining a relationship. After watching a movie at her house I walked down the block to my brother’s girlfriend’s house to wait for him to take me home. It was nice because he was conventienly dating Andy’s best friend at the time so there were always double dates, and he could drive. I call it my first kiss, because it is the first time that I kissed a girl and my stomach dropped into my shoes and I got goose bumps all along my spine. My ears felt like they were going to drop off my head and my fingers went numb, all at once. Those are what first kisses are. My first First Kiss was all the more memorable because it had a line.

“So this is goodnight for tonight eh?” said I.
“Looks like it, call me tomorrow when you get out of school,” said she.
“Can I ask you a question?” said I.
“Sure,” said she, (and I wiped my palms on my pants, why the fuck do your palms sweat?)
“Do you think I am kissable?” I shit you not I actually said this
“Sure,” she said.
“Prove it.” And we did the slow lean in and kissed. It was hot. I was (still am …) such a dork.

Then there is the second First Kiss. Andy and I are still friends and she still gives me shit for my line. But we didn’t work out, cause we were in the 9th grade, and neither of us wanted to get married, so we decided that it was best to see other people. The second First Kiss was with Jana, Jana was a particularly poor tennis player, but we would always play and I would let her win, usually just enough so she would keep playing with me. It was after a match we were laying on the clay court staring up at the sky, it was night, my parents had turned the court lights off, and there were serious stars. A side-note, I am from Wyoming and out west there are stars, serious, serious, stars a real sight to behold. Anyways, we were on the court and she was saying that it was so nice of me to let her win, I of course, replied that I never let her win that she is getting better at the game. She tells me to “shuddup.” I smile. She looks over and says, “you know what would make this perfect? If you would just kiss me.” God I am such a sucker for a girl with a line… so we kissed, and the stomach dropped, the toes went numb, and I am pretty sure I sprouted chest hair right then and there with the ferocity of the goose bumps.

Then the third First Kiss. CK was my brother’s friend, I took her to the prom because it was two days away and I didn’t have a date. My brother assured me that she was excellent playing the clutch position and wouldn’t turn me down. He was right. I missed dinner, showed up late to the dance, and looked like a wreck, she was totally annoyed. We went to a friend’s house afterwards, swam in the pool and soaked in the hot tub; we ended up crashing on her couch for the evening. A couple weeks later I called her up and asked if she wanted to go to a movie, she accepted and we had a good time. After a couple more innocuous dates we were standing outside and I am going in for the good night hug, it lingers a little bit longer, the stars dim a little bit, and she goes in with the head tilt, and the third First Kiss happens. As happened before I lose control of most bodily functions right there and I am rendered useless.

Since then, no more First Kisses, they are rare to come by. You don’t find them in bars. You don’t find them at Art Galleries. You don’t find them at the Opera or the Ballet. You don’t find them hanging out in Central Park. I am afraid that there is something about New York that sucks the First Kiss out of everyone. I can only hope that I get more than three First Kisses in my lifetime; I am too young to be at the end. My hope is that New York has spared a few of First Kisses in someone somewhere.

About Us

Ah, so this is us. The three amigos/musketeers/fuckwads choose your adjective. I think people deserve a fair amount of background when getting advice or just plain laughing at someone's follies. It just makes the experience more fun. So without further blathering an introduction is in order.

The guy on the left is a complete nitwit. For the moment wholly unsuccessful in the love department. Why do you ask is he posting on this site? Pity mostly, although can you say four-and-a-half-year long distance relationship to a total hottie? Thought you could say that. Worked because it was long distance, she didn't have to look at his face, just listen to his butter-smooth voice. You don't worry about his face though, that is the "gerbil face" he tends to make it after a couple mugs of the brew ... mmmm beer ... he really is a nice guy (total lie, such an asshole). When you are saying to yourself, why am I reading this these guys are such morons, chances are you are reading one of his posts.

The dude in the middle? LADIES MAN!! When he goes out the ladies love him, he knows what to say (usually), he is in a real relationship with a fantastic independent woman whom we all love sleeping in our humble abode, seriously, we all love her, if only we could be so lucky. If you are reading and falling in love, sorry ladies, he's taken.

Alright, and the man shrouded in enigma on the right? Smoothest man any of us know. Seriously, he could pick up the widow at her husbands funeral. I'm not kidding, he is that smooth. Unfortunately he is a total romantic, believes in treating a lady as an equal, opens the door for respect, feels no shame in picking up the check, or going dutch on a date. For all of you out there looking for someone to hold: Big Red is where it’s at. There is a high likelihood that if you are going to fall in love with one of the three of us, it is going to be this guy, like I said, he is that good.