Groundhog’s Date

by Kelly under Relationships

I’ve been on a lot of first dates. I’m not sure the number will phase many of you – over 35 – but that’s in just 3 years with a few mini-relationships here and there. And the sad thing is, after a while, all these dates start to blur together. Sometimes I can’t tell apart the JP Morgans from the Morgan Stanleys. The Adams from the Davids. The Murray Hill boys from the Upper East Siders. Everyone loves their family, football, movies, and a good Sunday brunch. They frequent bars on the Lower East Side and watch The Office and Parks and Rec. And beer. All guys love their beer.

To be fair, I’m sure guys who date a lot would say the same about the female dating pool. I bet we all have similar names, work in media, marketing, or fashion, and live in Murray Hill or the East Village. And wait, don’t tell me. We all like sushi. Right?

This my friends, is what I call Groundhog’s Date. It’s just like the movie, except no guy is ever as funny as Bill Murray, and instead of “I’ve Got You Babe” all I have in my head is “Call Me Maybe.” 75% of the time the first date goes something like this. We meet at a bar at agreed time/date. The conversation starts off with the basics: our jobs, where we live, where we are from. I order a vodka soda with lime. We share our stories about how we landed in NYC. We order a second round of drinks. Discuss the fun topics like movies/TV, vacation plans, hobbies, yada, yada, yada. Then the check comes. I offer to pay my share, but he politely declines. We say goodnight and part ways…

Guy after guy, date after date, it all ends up becoming a hazy memory. When I go on a sequence of first dates it’s like I’m operating in autopilot, knowing exactly what to expect, what to say, which outfit to wear. But every once in awhile, I’ll find myself on a date halfway through my first drink and I suddenly realize I’m waking up. Maybe I’m laughing, smiling, flipping my hair. And hell, I might even be having fun. And maybe, at least for a little while, it feels like I’m not stuck in Groundhog’s Day.


The Jack Johnson Effect

by Kelly under Relationships

I don’t like Jack Johnson. Wait, that’s putting it lightly. I hate Jack Johnson (except for maybe two songs, but I hate those most of the time too). Personally, I think his music is so lame and lacks real grit. It’s hippy dippy. Melodic to the point of boredom. And really, what’s with him not wearing shoes? He’s a grown man. Contrary to popular belief, “No shirt, no shoes, no problem,” is not the rule of thumb outside of beach resorts and Senor Frogs.

I know I sound very content in my disdain for Jack. But trust me, I’m not. My hate waivers the second I start falling for a guy. Seriously, why does every guy I date love Jack? Every time I pitch my argument against Jack to a new guy, I am met with this response, “Who hates Jack Johnson?” Good question, I ponder. And before you know it, he has Jack streaming from his iPod while we hang out and I’m humming that God-awful song, “Banana Pancakes.” Instantly, my loathing vanishes into a warm tingly feeling, and I am transfixed by the acoustic melodies of my boy Jack. And then he serenades me singing, “Maybe we can sleep in. I’ll make you banana pancakes. Pretend like it’s the weekend now.” That’s it. I’m a goner. Did I mention I don’t even eat banana pancakes?

Fast forward to the end of the relationship. Jack suddenly pops up on my iPhone (because I, of course, added him back onto my playlist at this point) and I find myself riding the subway and tearing up to “Sitting, Wishing, Waiting.” And if you can believe it, I hate Jack even more than I did to begin with.

Jack, if you’re listening, it’s really not your fault (even though your music sucks). It’s the fact that love has this way of making little things we usually don’t like – or, in this case, hate – seem absolutely wonderful. In my last relationship, I ate new foods, rooted for football teams I had no previous association with, and even liked his cat when I’m a total dog person. And not to mention, I gave into Sir Jack. I have to ask, why must all 20-something guys in NYC love Jack? And can someone please tell me, why do I keep falling for them?