Right Wing News interviewed me this weekend for an article on dating conservative women. No great insights, but you do get to learn about shooting rats at the dump.
Copyright © 2009 by The Atlantic Monthly Group. All rights reserved.
Copyright © 2009 by The Atlantic Monthly Group. All rights reserved.
You went out with Dud Rogers?
Shooting rats at the dump? Were you dating Emmet Ray from "Sweet and Lowdown"?
That sounds a lot like a date with Stacy McCain, but without the pointy hoods.
My, that's quite the sordid tear-jerker of a bad date. My heart bleeds most for the cabbie, who in the end paid for both dinners, if I got the picture.
Economically speaking, you stayed beyond the point of diminishing returns and capped things off by giving that slob an incentive to try the same approach on the next chic: At the very least, he might get free beer, bangers, and mash. Oh well, live and learn.
The dude sort of reminds me of one my frat-boy college roommates. Blech.
Reading that almost made my head explode. Megan, good on you for being less judgmental than the the rest of those folks. Jeez.
"First of all, I cannot be bought and second of all, if I could, it would not be for Bangers and Mash and a glass of white wine."
Oh definitely, hold out for filet mignon and Dom Perignon ... or, at minimum, a sirloin steak and Veuve Cliquot.
More on Right Wing dating habits here.
Blech. I put some very understanding women through some incredibly stupid dates when I was 23, but I hope none of them approached that.
So, the problem here is that regardless of their political beliefs, the guys trotted out in these stories are total (to be mild) jerks. That's true of a certain subset of people, regardless of gender, race, political beliefs, etc, etc.
Although I'm firmly in the "liberal" camp, I've always found intelligent conservatives to be the best conversation/dinner partners, provided they can articulate why they believe what they believe. Repeating Lindsay Graham's "let them win" line over and over again is hardly good conversation fodder and the same is true for "Bush lied, people died."
In other words, "no blood for oil" is an uninteresting position. "How much blood for how much oil, and hey, how come we didn't actually GET any oil" is quite a bit more fun.
An art museum really is a great first date, but it's no guarantee. I once went out with a woman I met in a saloon (sue me), and we met at a museum with an extensive collection from the European masters. She had described herself as finishing her degree in art history, and a devoted Catholic, which was interesting to me because I'm neither especially religious or knowledgeable about painting.
Anyways, we get to the museum, and she doesn't really seem to know a lot about painting either, or at least is just trying to be polite about showing off. We get to a huge painting (can't remember the artist) which, to anyone with a passing familiarity with Christianity, obviously has as it's subject matter the resurrection of Lazarus. Helpfully, however, the placard say the title of the painting is, you guessed it, "The Resurrection of Lazarus". My date looks at the painting, looks at the placard, back and forth a couple of times, and says, "Gee, I'd love to know the story behind his one!"
We were tossed out short time later when she insisted that she had to feel the texture of the oil paint on the canvas, and placed her hands on essentially priceless masterpieces. I was tempted to claim I wasn't with her.
They ought to write one about dating liberal women - the non-profit jobs, the smugness, the wishy-washy "spirituality", the whole Stuff White People Like series, to tell you the truth.
It's amazing the things I put up with for sex.
Relax, asian man, it's nothing compared to what they're putting up with.
With the exception of Megan's, I found the women's answers about dating outside their party to be generally obnoxious, and most of the rest as well. (Part of the reason I read this blog and not theirs...)
And wow, that is one awful date.
brooksfoe: That does not matter so much. The joy I get as the peasant in the lord's castle is overwhelming though.
Are you saying shooting rats at the dump is not a good first date?
Dang, no wonder I've been striking out.
PS: what about clubbing seals?
We were tossed out short time later when she insisted that she had to feel the texture of the oil paint on the canvas, and placed her hands on essentially priceless masterpieces.
What??? You mean you're not supposed to rub your hands on the paintings?
PS: what about clubbing seals?
I prefer to take a lady out for a night of harpooning sperm whales. It offers me an opportunity to display both my athletic prowess and my encyclopedic knowledge of the works of Herman Melville. And witty double entendres involving "sperm" and "harpooning" offer a perfect segue into the more... intimate portion of the evening.
Also, is shooting rats OK if you only shoot to wound?
But, I still would like, when I have been working for 10 hours in stiletto heels and walk out to the Metro, for a man to give up his seat for me. The liberal men I've dated seem to forget that. It's polite to hold open the door for me, especially on first dates. It's polite to pull out my chair for me. I'm not the girl who expects the guy to pick up the tab all the time, but certain manners just seem to escape the liberal men that I've dated.
I thought the above (also echoed in the comments) was interesting. I've been out of the dating market for a long time, but I guess conservative women wouldn't be for me -- at least not that type. Hey -- wasn't my idea for you to wear ridiculous shoes that make your feet hurt. If I get to the door first, sure I'll hold it for you (or anybody who's right behind me). But pull out your chair? Run around and open your car door?!? Uh, yeah--no, not unless you have two sprained wrists from tripping in your stiletto heels. Otherwise sorry -- I don't do the women-on-pedestals thing. I guess libertarians really are social liberals and that's probably what matters most for dating purposes.
I too thought the heels comment was funny but that's because I think the a lot of the things women force their feet into are ridiculous. Very few men notice or care what women are wearing on their feet so I've never understood why they put themselves through such torture.
Very few men notice or care what women are wearing on their feet so I've never understood why they put themselves through such torture.
It isn't the shoes you're supposed to be seeing, it's the illusion of a longer leg with a curvier calf that the shoe creates. Which, IIRC, is why they were invented.
Not that I think the end justifies the means. At one point while tinkering with graduate studies and working as a T.A., I remember one of my female colleague profs taking off her heels a few times around 2pm and protesting about how sore her feet were getting. On two of these occasions I tried to encourage her, in suitably careful words, to invest in a pair of comfortable sandals. I see no reason why women should destroy their feet and lower back in the pursuit of a cheap aesthetic, especially when the value of the aesthetic declines with age anyway while the consequent health problems gradually increase.
it's the illusion of a longer leg with a curvier calf that the shoe creates.
Also the curvier rear end/lumbar region and the societal association with beauty, glamor, and looseness. It's a way of signaling "I seek out and welcome male sexual attention."
The jury is out on whether there is more net social stupidity in heels (widespread, but relatively minor health problems) or steroids (less common, but much worse for you).
"It isn't the shoes you're supposed to be seeing, it's the illusion of a longer leg with a curvier calf that the shoe creates."
I realize this however if you're already x amount of pounds overweight the illusion is lost. Most women don't seem to know this.
I realize this however if you're already x amount of pounds overweight the illusion is lost. Most women don't seem to know this.
True, but in this category of visual malfeasance, I think the tight lowrise jeans are a much more serious threat to the community. It's not that I long for the 1980s, mind you. But if, like rather many people, you carry a hint of midriff pudge and cellulite...why bunch it up into the actual shape of a spare tire, complete with tread pattern?
Holy sh-t, that is one bad date.
Also the curvier rear end/lumbar region and the societal association with beauty, glamor, and looseness. It's a way of signaling "I seek out and welcome male sexual attention."
I almost agree. It means "I am willing to endure some level of discomfort to look good." As I understand it, women generally want to look good primarily for other women ... men are not the judges, just the prizes.
Speaking for myself, I feel that, like tank-tops, only women of a certain shape and age benefit from wearing heels.
in this category of visual malfeasance, I think the tight lowrise jeans are a much more serious threat to the community.
Oh, no. Who wouldn't like an article of clothing that, for fit women, minimizes the distinction between hip and waist, and for less-than-fit women, reverses it?
I've seen some women who looked good in low-rise jeans. I've never seen one who looked better than she would if she were properly dressed.
As I understand it, women generally want to look good primarily for other women
Is that why lesbians are always so irresistibly hot in their clothing and hairstyling choices?
Megan, I think I have got you beat for wierd. Politics does not enter into this one at all, so here goes:
My weirdest date happened about the time I graduated from College. A woman (D.) had recently joined our gaming group and my friend R. quickly started dating her. He dropped her just as quickly (which ought to have been a tip-off, if I were looking for it). So, after having confirmed that R. no longer had any interest in her, I asked if she would be interested in going to a show at a local planetarium. She agreed and we set a time and place to meet up.
She arrived at the agreed location rather late and extremely flustered. I assumed that these two things were casually related and tried to reassure her that, although we probably would not make the showing I had planned on, there were plenty of showings that we could make. It was then that I found out that what was bothering her was going to the planetarium itself because to do so we would have to pass the University I had been attending. When I inquired why this was, the response came back that it was because R. was living on campus and that this meant "bad vibes". She then told me that she wanted to talk to R. I thought that might be because she wanted to try to get back together with him and asked if this were the case. She she denied this but, apparently, was looking for some sort of closure. I told her about my discussion with R. and said that if it is over with you then it is over with him and nothing need more be said.
D. was still very flustered, so I abandoned the idea of going to the planetarium and tried to give her a pep talk, a "you are the pilot of your own fate" type thing. When D. went home, I was left with the distinct impression that absolutely nothing I had said had registered in the slightest, just like water off a duck's back- nothing sunk in. It was only after this rather surrealistic "date", if it could be called that, that I found out just how deep D.'s problems were (including institutionalizations) and I realized how far out of my depth I had been.
Some years later when one of our circle asked "Have you heard about D. ?", I was prepared for something drastic. What surprised me was that it was her mother that she shot and killed, as opposed to herself.
Is that why lesbians are always so irresistibly hot in their clothing and hairstyling choices? Posted by Rob Lyman | April 28, 2008 7:07 PM
A little early for west coast drinkin' unless the company is hosting, Rob.
Sirloin steak and Veuve Clicquot? Yes, I suppose I could see Jed Clampett ordering that..
It isn't the shoes you're supposed to be seeing, it's the illusion of a longer leg with a curvier calf that the shoe creates. Which, IIRC, is why they were invented.
Maybe I'm an outlier, but it really doesn't work on me. At all. Bare legs and feet in the sand? Nice. Sandals, flip-flops, running shoes, even hiking boots? Fine. But tottering around on high-heels in an awkward posture? Bleech. The whole thing says, "High maintenance" and brings to mind Chinese foot binding. I'll take my women (well, woman anyway) comfortable and free-moving, thanks.
My weirdest date ...
It was about 12 or 13 years ago, a blind date through a personals ad, a lunchtime meeting at a coffee shop near my workplace. It was in October or November IIRC, at any point not during warm weather. The young lady, an aspiring filmmaker from Germany, arrived dripping with sweat, and I mean that literally - drops of sweat were falling off her nose. Her clothes were soaked. Now, there were some rational explanations, perhaps she had just arrived from the gym and didn't have time to shower and change. The thing is, she offered no explanation for her "glowing" state, even though she surely must have known that I noticed. Blind dates are always awkward, suffice to say that this one was off the awkward charts. I never called her for a second date.
I dunno Megan, that bit about shooting rats at the dump was what Harlan Ellison proposed for a first date when he was a contestant on the Dating Game.
I hate to feed your ego, Megan, but you sounded like the only human being in that article.
It occurs to me that the rest of the women may have trouble finding suitable dates because they've already found the perfect mate: a political ideology, as broken as any, against which normal human beings cannot, and most likely, will not appreciate being held to.
I have to say Megan, I suspect you went on no such date. I think you lifted the story from a Woody Allen movie either hoping no one had seen it or thinking it had actually happened to you instead of Uma Thurmond.
(I do agree with the above comments about the obnoxiousness of the other interviewees though.)
P.S.: When can we expect more of that delightful "The Table"?