“Queen of One Date” Tells All

“Sam, you have to help me!” I cried into the phone.

“What is it, Babe? Try and calm down and tell me what’s wrong.”

“I don’t get it. I’ve become the “QUEEN OF ONE DATE.” Yep, I gave myself a new title; “Jewish Princess” was out. Although I liked the promotion to Queen, but the rest of it sucked.

“What are you talking about?”

“Well, I think that kind of sums it up. I never get asked on a second date. One date and I’m out. I don’t get it, no one calls again. Why? What should I do? Or what can I do?”

“Don’t talk,” he responded without hesitation.

“Huh?” Was he talking to me or about me?

“Don’t talk when you go out with these men. Just listen.”

“Huh?”

“Let the guy talk his brains out, don’t compete with him.”

“I don’t get it, just sit there like a lump?”

“Just sit there and smile. Or ask a question.”

“Huh?”

“Ask a question about him. Men like soft and sweet.”

“Excuse me?” I think all the blood was rushing dangerously to my head.

“Gail, you don’t get it.” He was right I was faint and didn’t get it.

“What about a conversation?” I whispered as I began to lose consciousness.

“Men have competition all day in business and don’t want it with a woman during down time.”

“Is a conversation competition?”

“See how you are? You’re challenging me and I’m giving you advice.”  He was serious. I stepped out onto the patio for air.

“So we’re talking about an evening where I’m just smiling and asking my date questions about himself? There’s no conversation where two people equally exchange thoughts. Is that what you’re saying?”

“That’s what I’m saying, Honey.”

“And if I do that I’ll get to go on a second date?”

“That’s right.”

“Well, thanks for the advice.”

I decided to stop dating.