Dating Tip #1: Look at Your Plate

This is the first in a series of dating tips, though, honestly, many of them are old-fashioned good manners or exercises in basic social awareness. You might not need this advice, but I’ll bet you know a few people you could forward this tip to (anonymously, of course!).

TIP: You’re at dinner with a date, or your long-time honey, or another couple, or just friends. Look down at your plate. Is it almost full? Look at everyone else’s plates. Are they nearly empty? YOU ARE TALKING TOO MUCH. Stop it.

I was at dinner on Saturday night with my date, Patrick, and friends of ours, a married couple. My date was talking about his recent artistic accomplishments, and his academic accomplishments, and his other friends’ celebrations of his accomplishments. For a while he talked about his daughter’s accomplishments. My eyes were glazing over, because I’ve heard these stories, oh, about 463 times. But then I noticed the other two were having trouble fixing their eyes on one spot and their contributions to the conversation were mainly “uh-huh,” and “that’s impressive,” and “of course you were proud.” I kept asking questions of our out-of-town friends and trying to find topics that we could all discuss, but my single-minded date would pause, then say something like “not to change the subject, but I’m changing the subject,” and launch back into his tales of his glory.

At the end of the evening, Patrick asked if they wanted to have dinner again the following evening, and I could read the panic in their eyes. We made tentative plans, but, surprise!, they cancelled. Poor self-absorbed Patrick was clueless. But maybe he’ll find this blog post in his inbox and he’ll spare future dinner companions the same fate.

Learn the lesson: Don’t bogart the conversation.

Disheartened?

Does anyone like Valentine’s Day? There’s the occasional year when it’s enjoyable, or even thrilling, but mostly it’s a downer. Sometimes it’s dreadful. Even if I’m happy with my life, even if I’m in a solid, loving relationship, when Valentine’s Day arrives I often feel vaguely disheartened that everything’s not more romantic, somehow. I've read the fairy tales. I watch the Today show. I walk past the Hallmark store. So I wonder, aren’t I supposed to be wrapped in a haze of red roses and floating hearts and little soft bunny kisses? Every day, all the time? Why are so many of my conversations with my beloved about who last did the dishes or how there’re 230 channels and never anything on tv? What’s wrong with us?

Maybe something, maybe nothing. But one thing is certain: not measuring up to the standard of romance set for us by Valentine’s Day mythology is not the indicator. Here's my patented prescription for Valentine Melancholia: Turn the pressure off. Resolve to gauge your happiness—romantic or otherwise—at a time less fraught with unrealistic expectations. Try the Ides of March, or Flag Day, or Arbor Day. The Autumnal Equinox is always nice. Are you contented? Do you have love in your life? Don’t count only romantic partners: tally up your mom and your brothers. Your sisters count, and your best friends and your kids and anyone else you’re devoted to. Do all your loves know how much you adore them? Tell them. Tell them the day you know it and every day thereafter. Don’t wait for Valentine’s Day. There are many ways to love and be loved; don't devalue them. So if, this February 14th, you aren’t ensconced on a pink-scented cloud of romantic bliss, take heart. Chances are, you are loved.