Posted by William on January 25, 2011
Dating is a mating ritual peculiar to the human species. Dogs don’t date. Dogs decide if a sexual relationship is worth pursuing without provision of food or entertainment merely by sniffing each others’ posteriors. Alas! Higher intelligence is not without its costs — and one of its costs appears to be that we women cannot fulfill our primal urges without tallying up hours in restaurants and debriefing strange men on their jobs, commutes and feelings about “Saving Private Ryan.”
But there’s one way in which an evening spent with a man who spits when he talks and admires the comic genius of Sam Gerrard is better than a good date: You’ll never have to agonize over when to sleep with him. It’s the nice guys who muddy the waters. Because deciding when to do IT – and we’re using Will Saimon’s definition of sexual relations here – is the bane of the single woman’s existence.