Buckle up, idiots. You’re about to learn how to stop “the one” from becoming “the one that got away”. We’re going to go on a journey together and you have my word that, by the end of this journey, I will have made you a better person if it’s the last god damn thing I do.

THIS WEEK’S TIP:

After you kiss for the first time do not, under any circumstance, rub your thumb against your middle and index fingers while shaking your hand back and forth only to exclaim:

MMM-mmm! Now that’s-ah spicy meat-ah-ball!”

Whoa there, Bessie! Something’s got the horses spooked! That’s right, stallions, I said it and I meant it. It’s 2017 now and you might want to think twice about reaching in the old playbook and pulling out this classic.

I know, I know. It’s gone over pretty well before. But you want to set yourself apart, and who hasn’t heard this gem. I’m not faulting you. The reasoning behind it is bedrock. It’s just your fun, cute way of trying to convey these two simple thoughts:

  • Your company fills me with a joy that only increases. Getting to know you better, and the very idea that it has brought us to this wonderful moment of preliminary physical intimacy, albeit fleeting, has me overcome with joie de vivre that is a rare treasure in this world. You are full of the most pleasant surprises, not dissimilar from a delicious plate of the finest pasta, smothered in an ambrosia-like sauce, concealing only the most delightfully spicy meatballs.

And, more simply,

  • Your kiss, your lips, your scent, dare I say your personhood overall as we have become more closely acquainted as of late, has an effect on me that can only be compared to the exciting tang of a meatball, spiced to perfection.

Now, we both know that you’re pure class all the way, no doubt about that, so I’m sure you’re considering what your date is thinking when you’re giving this Oscar-worthy performance. Unfortunately, this is the sad truth of the mental play-by-play:

“Wow. A spicy meatball.

This guy’s Tinder profile said he was a foodie. Is he not aware of any delectable Indian dishes with the appropriate amount of zest to describe my kisses?

Nothing Ethiopian?

I would’ve even settled for an exquisite salsa, provided he had sufficient descriptive powers to pull it off. God damn, that would be one hell of a salsa.

I mean, meatballs? Delicious, to be sure… but come on, Martha. You’re not in your early twenties anymore. Is this really what you want? I thought you were done settling.”

You can do better. So do better. Did you have plans tonight? Not anymore, young blood. It might be a good time to whip out your phones, flip through Foodora or JustEat, and look for something new. Change up your game. Order a feast. Work on your metaphors. Thank me later.

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