The Rules of Party Attraction

Anyone who's anyone knows the game of party-hopping on a Saturday night, and anyone with a condom in their pocket or a yearning heart has their sights set on the night's crowd, seeking the time of their life. Lights, camera, dry hump on the dancefloor: Don't let your perfectly groomed hair and snazzy clubbin' get-up go to waste.

To the dismay of single folk everywhere, making the most of a party is a multi-step process more laborious than your mind might realize as you click "Attend" to RSVP on Facebook for the shindig you've been obsessing over. Beyond the surprisingly hefty amount of time spent preparing for a party (hair, outfits, make-up, cocktail hour beforehand - the whole sixty-nine yards), the checklist of matters to take care of upon walking into a party seems almost endless: Greet your gracious host, say a brief hello to those few people you recognize ("Oh, it's simply been too long!"), check your things in, and then assimilate into the crowd to get your groove on before you're quickly branded as the loser standing alone in a corner grinding against the wall.

From there, it's a matter of sex smarts and plastering enough smiles and sultry eye glances on your face to permanently fixate your expressions in one position for the entire night.

The simple goal here? Don't look like a goober.

What I've recently come to realize, is that there's a legitimate reason why the popular phrase "catch of the day" exists in the [gay] dating world. At some point in your party experience - and it's normally very early on in your time at the party - you're going to inevitably find yourself escaping into a corner that gives you a panoramic view of the selections of the night, and you're going to scout the lake for the biggest fish, the smelliest one, the ugliest one and, if you're fortunate enough, the tasty, mouth-watering one.

And at this point, it's a matter of casting your line, and reeling it in.

As a result of some fruitful, enlightening discussion with one of my fellow party-goers, I've come to a (somewhat) life-changing realization that there are, in fact, four types of people you will encounter during your "fishing trip":

1. The guy who's just not that into you. Sadly, you will be incredibly and inexplicably attracted to this person, but their sights are set on someone else. Perhaps it's the lighting, or perhaps you just look like shit that night, but it's not going to happen - no matter how many drinks you grab for them or how many buttons you unhook down the line of your shirt. It's best to realize who this person is early on, so as to not waste valuable time on those who you don't actually stand a chance with. Get over it.

2. The second guy who's just not that into you. It shouldn't come as a surprise that there are more than one of these characters in existence at a party. If you run into this person twice in a row, your stroke of luck has probably ditched you for another party. But if you happen to casually stumble upon this person and acknowledge that they're going after another person fairly quickly, there might still be a chance for your sexual fortune.

3. The guy who's really into you, but makes you want to projectile vomit your cosmo. No, it's not a bad batch of cosmos or spoiled lime juice, it's that guy who won't stop staring at you while you're drunkenly grinding on your best friend. The easy way to tackle this, is to run to the other side of the crowd in hopes that they won't follow suit or will stumble upon a different dud stud to be infatuated with. Otherwise, you might try to hook them up yourself; or if you're suave enough, intentionally talk to them and make yourself seem about as appealing as Charlie Sheen on Twitter.

4. The guy who is "just right." OK, so it's not quite as romantic or ideal as the tale of Goldie Locks, but spotting this catch is the moment you should really whip out the net and dive it into the water. And contrary to what some might advise, "playing it safe" with this person is the absolute worst tactic you can employ. Instead of striking up conversation about what they do, talk about who they do. Instead of discussion about their day, talk about the events of the party. That doesn't mean appeasing them, per se, but do be politically affluent enough to know when you're being a kiss-ass. Just like a job interview, emphasize your skills.

As you strut your way into your next party, do try to be conscious of the four-person rule, and for the love of God, don't stand in a corner by yourself the entire night. Bring your fishing rod, and be prepared to get in the game - no matter how long you may end up waiting for a bite.

'Why so single?'

There aren't many questions I get asked by people that throw me for a loop or irritate the hell out of me, but there is one that continues to swerve into my consciousness and circulate an endless loop of question marks around my brain.

"Why are you still single?" he asks as his eyebrows curve downward with puzzlement and his eyes meet mine.

From my point-of-view, there are a million questions I could ask in response. "Why do you care?" is the first bold rebuttal that comes to mind, though even I can't tell you why my first instinct is to take offense.

My actual response could either be viewed as much kinder or much more passive aggressive, depending on how you look at things. I answer with a smile and a glance to the side, 'You're not the first person to ask that question, and you surely won't be the last.'

And while he took the hint and backed off the subject of relationship statuses, I got the sense that he assumed I was somehow repressing some deep character flaw or erecting a wall of defense against insecurity with my vague answer. As it turns out, a person's not allowed to be single without a reason.

I never cease to be amazed by the men I meet who manage to do a complete 180 on their feelings about relationships after only one date or a briefly engaging conversation. The date starts with, "Well, I'm not really looking for anything long-term," and transforms into "I'm looking for the love of my life" within a few hours of "clicking" after only a semi-decent coffee outing.

Apparently, the key to finding a partner is to lie and claim to not want one at all. Are single people really just lying to themselves to feel better about their lifestyles, or are we genuinely comfortable with our status - societal stigmas and all?

A close friend of mine, who I will refer to as "Julie" for the sake of this blog entry, has a habit of saying one thing and doing another. She will declare in conversation that she has "written off" men, and by the time we next meet, have a plethora of dating stories to divulge with the eagerness of a hyena hunting down Simba.

It's not necessarily that Julie is a hypocrite or a fragile human being, it's more that it makes the idea of 'single and fabulous' that much less legitimate to the reigning members of the world. If you're single and happy, draw a line and stay on that side until the cosmos commands otherwise. If you're a dating addict that breathes new life upon indulging in a flowing stream of encounters, stick with it and hope for the best. There's no shame in wanting love, but don't pretend that you're a Miranda when you're actually a Charlotte. (Forgive me for the Sex and the City reference - I was bound to make one eventually.)

I don't know why I'm still single, and at some point it's better to realize that it just doesn't matter. I would rather endure the awkward moment of being asked the question on a date and loftily dodge the entire conversation than bother wasting time analyzing the details of why I can't find a person that sticks. Finding a "reason" for being single is nothing more than a scapegoat for the veiled insecurities you hide behind your hardened exterior - or at least that's how any vocalized explanation is destined to be perceived.

Live and learn, single people of the world: you don't need a reason to be single, and the closer you come to embracing your own identity as a singular being, the closer you may even come to never having to face the "single question" ever again.

Questions? Comments? Want to share your own calculated response to "the single question"? Brandon Baker can be reached at brandon.baker@temple.edu

Trouncing the trollop treatment

The definition of what makes you promiscuous seems to be distinctly different depending on where you travel in the glory hole that is the Keystone State. If you're a south-central Pennsylvania inhabitant, being on the prowl at Wal-Mart with a muffin top and a box of condoms lazily tossed into your diaper bag (sans baby daddy, of course) stand as strong indicators that - most likely - you're a bit of a hoe-bag. Traveling a little bit northward into the heartland of Central Pennsylvania will see a similar story being told - minus the baby and the diaper bag, and plus an eye-rolling "oh, you really think I'm cute?" ditsy attitude proudly boasted through a weekend bar crawl in the faux-urban depths of Harrisburg.

But Philly - well, anyone who lives in Philadelphia can tell you one thing about Philadelphian standards when it comes to sex: there aren't any.

At the very least, what level of sexual engagement is acceptable in our fair city varies between its different sections and numerous, wildly contrasting social groups. And while the latter is true almost anywhere you may find yourself, it's found to be especially true in the case of a city whose basic social identity is best defined as not having one at all.

Is it the "City of Brotherly Love"? Or, perhaps, the "City of Brotherly Sluts"? Who can tell.

I had a passing conversation with an Italian man from Long Island recently, who claimed to be looking for apartments in South Philly and attempting to take in the scene of the city in the process. Unsurprisingly, he didn't seem to understand the social breakdown of Philadelphia, but commented that he hopes Philadelphians prove to be less "slutty" than New Yorkers.

The poor, clueless bastard.

The word choice of "slutty," which immediately takes me back to my grade school gossip days of pointing to the bimbo in the back of the classroom who would intentionally leave her training bra at home, is what caught me off-guard. Why is it that, like our preceding high school years of whispering about the town whore, we still use sex-negative terms like "slut" to define the guy or gal that partakes in a fun and friendly one-nighter?

Granted, this guy struck me as immediately strange to begin with, particularly following his mid-conversation, out-of-left-field comments about wanting to "transfer his masculine energy" to his partner during sex. (Right, because a gay "bottom" must be in dire need of his partner's macho-man "energy" - OK.) Nevertheless, I'm baffled that even a New Yorker would treat the sexually active with a finger wag and a "tsk tsk."

Once upon a time, I would have told you how much I resented Philadelphia's hypersexual and notoriously non-committal batch of singles, but today I write as a Philadelphian who has seen the light. Living in Philadelphia and having a sex life doesn't make you a "slut" - it makes you human. Pretending sexual desires don't exist and ignoring impulses for the sake of avoiding being called "the S word"? That makes you naive.

Now, I'm not advocating hopping on the first guy that buys you a drink (there are diseases to be concerned about, after all), but I am declaring that sexual positivity is nothing to be ashamed of, and certainly is not something to be described with those dirty words our parents would formerly wash away with soap. (Perhaps our parents had the right idea for the wrong reasons?)

Modern studiers of sex and relationships consider "the hook-up" to be the new "first date," only turning into something deeper after the sexual test has been passed. In that case, Mr. Italian Man may find himself alone with his hand for longer than his libido desires, as the brotherly lovers of this fair city are loud, proud and ready to pounce.

Confessions of a Grind-a-holic

You're laying in bed, bored to tears and ready to press "play" on your iTunes copy of "All By Myself," when you hear a distinctive "bloop" emote from your phone and/or tablet. Suddenly, things are turning around. The bloops keep on coming, your screen lights up with red circles in the corner of multiple scandalous (and sometimes comical) profile pictures, and you're left not only feeling great about yourself, but enamored and somewhat addicted to the alluring game of flirtation.

Yes, folks, we're talking about Grindr.

It hasn't taken long for dating dynamics to evolve with technology; the Western world has gone from participating in the relationship/dating-oriented online realms of OkCupid and Match.com, to becoming even more self-indulgent with casual mobile apps like Grindr and Blendr, which bypass the reading of profiles (which, admittedly, most people don't read anyway) and get right to the point. Within three back-and-forth messages with a person, it has typically already been decided what will happen. You will a) have sex, b) go on a date, or c) continue to flirt, but never actually engage in any in-person activities. The first is the most likely, the second is exceptional but possible and the last is probably the most entertaining aspect of the application(s).

Admittedly, I've quickly become a bit of a Grind-a-holic myself. It isn't very often that I actually meet people I interact with, but I continue to be fascinated and drawn-in by the unknown factors presented by a person whose identity is a complete mystery beyond their "stats" and profile picture. More unpopular, my curiosity is strangely piqued by those creepy, picture-less folk who typically are revealed as 50-year-old men who opt to skip the process of uploading a picture and instead fish for younger men in hopes that they will, essentially, be their self-esteem building tools. Note that I find these people worth mentioning because of the strange number of picture-less people I find that are closeted or discreet rather than sugar daddies - they're the "catch of the day" when they actually turn out to be good-looking, interesting individuals who happen to be on the down-low. Aloof, nonetheless... but intriguing.

Allow me to share one risk-taking experience I found myself involved in on a slow-moving Independence Day eve last summer, an experience that may make you rethink getting together with that curious person who continues to channel messages into your phone:

***

I sat at my desk on an unseasonably cool summer night, browsing through YouTube videos in an attempt to distract myself from a seemingly endless feeling of boredom. Hearing the hub-bub outside of my window didn't help, and I was left with an urge to do something - anything. "Anything" translated to creating a Grindr account, which I hesitantly did with no real intention of pursuing a get-together, but with every intention of using the app to keep my mind entertained.

An hour later, however, I found myself engrossed in conversation with an archetypical South Philly Italian who could be likened to - judging by the profile picture - the bulky "guido" appearance of Ronnie from Jersey Shore. Not exactly my type, but enough to keep my attention. By this time, he was already interested in meeting, which immediately struck me as sudden and, to a degree, sketchy. However, his nonchalance about seeing me that night mitigated much of my uneasiness, causing me to give in to his pleas and march my curious self south of Snyder.

Passing by a sea of Italian-style barbeques and parties, I safely knew I was no longer in the Philly territory I was familiar with. If it was a preview of what was to come, I was unsure of whether my adventure was actually one worth continuing. But pressing on, I finally found his home, stepping onto his dimly lit porch and reaching to press the door bell. Before my forefinger could mark the button, he opened the door, beckoning me inside.

Unfortunately, with the lighting minimal and my not-so-sensible self already a little buzzed, I didn't catch a glimpse of what he looked like until I crossed the threshold. Before me was a man whose spiked hair had been replaced with a dyed-black, receding hairline; a man whose pearly-white smile had turned into a set of chompers that might be better suited for an 80-year-old smoker; an elder whose smooth face had transformed into a wrinkly, contoured surface that made him look less like a lover and more like a father.

But he had beer, and I had time.

I sat down on the couch across from where he looked to have been sitting before I'd arrived, surveying my surroundings, which consisted of a dusty living room full of aged furniture, a kitchen that was loaded with empty beer bottles and boxes and a putrid smell of dogs that I still can't exorcise from my sensual memory.

But still, he had beer, and I had time.

He quickly grabbed me a drink and sat down, embarking on a Q&A session that promptly turned into the beginning of his memoirs. He expressed his life regrets and continued hopes within less than an hour of conversation, delving into the details of his rebellious teenage years (he claimed to have fathered two children and have lived on his own by age 16), and spending a careful amount of time on exploring the troubles of his many failed relationships. One such relationship, which he elaborated on with a special focus on his general willingness to "give," was with a former Temple student whom he gave plentiful amounts of money to and "supported through school." Naturally, the guy dumped him the second after he graduated. All the while I sat, a Temple student myself, understanding his intentions but - surprising even myself - not particularly caring. Why?

He had beer, and I had time.

Or at least I didn't care until the fifth beer came around and his lips took aim at mine. As I turned my cheek and his kiss landed to the left of my nose, he immediately inquired why I was so "guarded." Humored, slightly embarrassed, and becoming increasingly uncomfortable, I shrugged it off and excused myself to the restroom. I was becoming irritated with his tactics of deception and, finally, had decided to further excuse myself from his restroom back to my boring old bedroom.

I'd had enough beer, and had wasted enough of my time.

I bolted down the stairs, rushed to grab my things, and wished him a good night while narrowly avoiding another awkward sexual advance. Sobering up and beginning to feel anger swirl in my stomach like butterflies-turned-dragonflies, I went home and wasted no time deleting my account, continuing into a deep sleep to eliminate my stewing frustration.

I still receive messages from him every holiday.

***

This isn't to say that Grindr is a useless tool; the app serves its purpose for those seeking no-strings-attached encounters that are entirely and blissfully superficial. But for the innocent, naive user who believes in their ability to score a romantic date from the app, kindly turn off your phone when you find your trigger-happy finger an inch away from the "download" button.

I promise you, the free beer isn't worth it.

Why a New Year Should Never Mean a 'New You'

When the glitter and the Dick Clark stutters settle from the glamorous festivities of New Year's Eve, party-goers are left hungover, bummed about their inevitable return to work, and - for whatever reason - more self-conscious than ever. I'm here to shout it loud and clear: never develop a new you for a new year.

Our culture makes bank on the idea that we're not only (abruptly and dejectedly) imperfect beings when January 1st rolls around, but it counts on us admitting to being fat slobs, having the mind of a bumpkin and being more willing to sleep with the next thing that walks around the corner than Lindsay Lohan is to show her vagina to the world. The reality, is that new years should never be about starting anew; they should be about continuing all of those good things otherwise left behind in the prior year. What you need is not a new you, what you need is a better you.

Mind you, when I say a "better you," I don't mean that you should pick up the phone and order a Total Gym; I mean that you would be better off focusing on the things you know you already do well and nurturing those things rather than pretending you're interested in having Chuck Norris abs or making yourself "more organized." (Let's be honest, those folders are going in the trash the very second February rolls around.)

What's worse, is no one seems to be encouraging the "new you" for any of the right reasons. QVC is not selling you its workout machines and magic diet plans to make you feel better about yourself, they're selling it to you with the promise that your husband will love you more, or that you might finally pick up that guy at the bar who may have thought your muffin top wasn't quite as cute as your face. At the end of the day, like just about everything else in the world, it's about sex.

Similarly, the idea of you changing your entire physical appearance and emotional framework in a month's time is about as likely as any SEPTA platform evolving into King's Cross Station in the next ten years. It's not going to happen, and it's going to lead you through a disheartening loop...only when you make it full circle, you're going to be faced with a lonely Valentine's Day and an unopened box of Godiva's leftover from Christmas.

I am instead going to embolden the "better you" part of my theory: it's much easier and certainly more productive to challenge yourself to better the aspects of your personality and skill set you already know you're proficient with. In some cases, it may mean merely reevaluating how you view certain angles of yourself, and looking at those angles in a sharpened light.

For example, I have never claimed to be the most put together or systematic individual. My room is often a disaster zone, with clothes spread across my floor and an uncleaned wine glass sitting on my desk (admittedly sometimes for more than a week). Surely, I could opt to clean the glass and hang my clothes in the closet, but doing so isn't something that necessarily satisfies what I want, it just satisfies an imaginary person who I might envision criticizing me for maintaining a different lifestyle than what they lead. Lately, I look at my empty wine glass (or martini glass - I've been in a cosmo mood as of late), and approach it with a different mindset - a smile, even. The little bit of wine hunkered toward the bottom of the glass reminds me of my quirky unwillingness to finish much of what I start, and at the same time, the red "legs" left on the sides of the glass leading to the small liquid pool settled at the bottom call attention to how every unorganized, incomplete, batshit thought I have running through my mind eventually leads me to a pool of something.

My point, as ambiguous and untailored as it may seem, is that these small things are representative of who we are; they're reminders that we have our own primmed facets to our personalities that separate us from that archetypical hunk of "perfect" man meat displayed on that new treadmill. Don't succumb to superficial pressures under the idea that it will "help you get laid" or lure in your dream man. Uncovering the things you want from a date, a sex partner or relationship will mean equipping yourself with the qualities you want others to see in you, not the traits you're told others want to see in you.

And if your gentleman caller isn't happy with your flabs or your messy room, there is one simple and effective solution: throw your one-week-old glass of wine in their face.

Five (Optimistic) Ways to Feel As Good As You Look

I was relatively surprised to see one bitch dedicated reader describe my most recent blog entry as being very "dark." Now, I can recognize that the topics I tackle aren't always the most uplifting, but I do try and sprinkle in some inkling of optimism at the tail end of each entry to give readers (and myself) renewed belief that success stories do exist in the world of ooey-gooey love.

But as I walked down Walnut St. with my deliciously overpriced Starbucks latte in hand, contemplating whether I really am just too cynical about dating as well as whether I should grab Chinese food before going home, I stumbled upon a sign posted on the tiny construction site near the intersection of Broad and Walnut (pictured).

I'm a firm believer in the idea that things do happen for a reason, and today my conclusion was, like an epiphany to be had in the corniest Jennifer Aniston movie, that I found myself face-to-face with this ambiguously inspiring sign (that undoubtedly had a different meaning) for a bigger reason.

When date after date goes wrong, it becomes easier to sink into disheartened delusion than optimistic perseverance. Could it be that the singles are just cynics?

After giving it some further thought, here is what I've decided I'm going to do: below is a tongue-in-cheek list of five things I might ordinarily write for a Brotherly Love blog entry. Next to them (that is, the list of things I probably would more sincerely advise), are hopeful fortune cookie-esque bits of advice with a Utopian, "it gets better" spin put on them.

Without further adieu, let's try this on for size.

1. Stop slitting your wrist to "Someone Like You." Make the choice to actively listen to feel-good music. Feeling better about yourself means choosing to not indulge in music that finds strength in sorrow. Dust off your girl-power albums from the '90s and get to listening!

2. Burn your ex's things in a ceremonial bonfire. Make peace with your demons. Break-ups can be rough, but your mood doesn't have to be. Make it a point to be civil with your new ex; don't be the crazy ex-girlfriend if you don't have to.

3. Drink away your problems until you're passed out in the bathroom of iCandy. Find a healthy way to de-stress and move forward. Some people start going to the gym to work out anxiety as well as improve their body image, and that's more than OK. Developing a less self-destructive way of relieving negative tension is a fantastic first step to improving how you are perceived by others as well as how you view yourself.

4. Think about how much better you turned out than your high school classmates. Consider how fortunate you are to have the life you do. Opt to focus on the successes of your relationships rather than the failures, and never take for granted the support system you have around you. They can be more valuable than we realize sometimes.

5. Get laid. ...Get laid.


Still not optimistic enough? Send your thoughts to brandon.baker@temple.edu

Seeking liveliness through the rose-colored glass of sloppiness

Although Americans (and especially Philadelphians) like to laugh at, mock and dismiss those 'Jersey Shore' folks from across the pond as "a thing," I can't help but find it a tad bit ironic that we laugh at behaviors we all embrace and demonstrate.

The premise of the show revolves around hook-ups and drinking, two things that, more often than not, go hand-in-hand. We drink to hook-up, and we hook-up to drink. And what happens when a relationship goes down the rabbit hole? We head to the nearest karaoke bar to drunkenly sing our struggles away.

A cocktail a day probably does take the pain away (we've all been there), but there appears to be an unhealthy obsession in today's society with using alcohol as a crutch for when things go horribly wrong with our lives - especially with dating. I'm all for using the firewater to kill the nerves on an awkward first date, but a backwards mentality has managed to take hold on what role alcohol plays in forming relationships.

The excuse many will gladly use for consuming mass amounts of alcohol for dating and sex-related purposes is that it uninhibits them and breaks down barriers to reveal their "true selves." But one has to wonder: if you're drinking to force yourself into a comfort zone, how "natural" is that?

I'm not so naive (or prudish) as to downplay alcohol and preach against it; Prohibition was certainly demonstration enough that people don't just desire alcohol, they need it. However, this uncanny fascination with intoxication needs to reach a peak at one point or another; using alcohol as a scapegoat doesn't feed a healthy relationship anymore than it nourishes your liver.

Myself being slightly inebriated, I recently observed a young man on the street taunting a group of women as I waited for the Sketch Mobile (aka the "Night Owl") to take me home. He gave them an obvious up-down gaze, and continued to talk to them (or at them, rather) with a tone in his voice that screamed, "I'm drunk, horny, and entitled to your vagina." It was an eye-rolling reminder of the role this liquid courage plays in how our sexual selves work.

When I finally took a seat on the bus, I sat down across from a man and woman who clearly had just come from a party together, but were also very apparently not in a relationship. The man continued to comment on how drunk she was, which was his own code for, "You're drunk; that means it's okay to sleep with me tonight." Thankfully, the girl wasn't having it and clarified that she was feeling very sober, which was her code for, "Put your dick back in your pants."

Yet in these situations, who/what is really to blame for when things go sour? There is absolutely nothing justifiable about your actions just because you took a few too many shots and made an abnormally bad decision. Consider this: if your bad decisions couldn't be excused by alcohol in a work environment, why would that be any less true in a personal setting?

By all means, continue to drink, hook-up, and embark on plastered adventures. But when the time comes in your life to "settle down" and look more closely for "the one," know better than to pre-game before your date or talk in-depth about your party self. Nothing is more unattractive than a drunk that doesn't know he/she is a drunk.

"So, did it hurt?"

"Why, when you fell from heaven, of course!"

We've all endured them; we've all dished them out. They're those pungent pick-up lines that make us want to gag. (And not in the fun way.) Let's take a look at some of the worst ways to approach that random person of interest.

1. Groping of any kind. All right, so your goal is to add another tally mark to your growing list of "scores." That's great, but know better than to use sex as a means to get to know someone on a deeper level. There's a reason the first kiss is normally referred to as a "good-night kiss;" the point is to run someone through a string of mental and emotional endurance tasks before taking any kind of physical plunge. Grabbing someone's "junk" isn't going to earn you any cool points in the dating realm.

2. Regurgitating your life story. I had the unfortunate displeasure of watching a poorly dressed, awkward-to-the-extremes man at Starbucks "slyly" strike conversation with the woman sitting at the table next to him. Within ten seconds of introducing himself, he managed to inform her that he was unemployed, stressed to the breaking point and available to the point of desperation. It was like watching dominoes fall one after the other. Do yourself a favor and save the sob stories for after you've firmly established comfort zones and boundaries ... which normally won't happen until a third date or later anyway.

3. Cruising. While many might disagree with me on this subject, I do not find "cruising" (that is, the art of aggressively eying someone down) to be beneficial in the slightest. It implies something overtly sexual, and it implies passive aggressive. If you want to talk to someone, find a reason to do so. After all, what do you expect to happen when someone sees you giving them the "up-down"? This isn't a movie; you're unlikely to get a wink, nod and coy smile in response. You're actually more likely to see someone switch train cars or walk to the other side of the street.

4. "You look like someone I know..." For whatever reason, this seems to be a common, phony line men like to employ to get someone to talk to them. What's the point? The other person most likely knows that it's just an excuse to talk to them, and at that point, they're aware that you're nervous. It also suggests that you already have a label attached to them. (What if that "someone you know" is your mother?) Avoid the tacky scapegoat questions and find something clever to say.

5. Discussing the weather. For God's sake, please do not use the weather as an ice breaker. If weather discussion isn't okay when you're talking to your friends, it certainly isn't going to be thought-provoking discussion for someone you're interested in. Save your opinions on the day's cloud formations for Thanksgiving dinner with grandma and grandpa.

Heard of or experienced some bad pick-up lines or approaching methods? Let me know about it: shoot me an email at brandon.baker@temple.edu and you just might find your story featured in an upcoming "Sex and the City of Brotherly Love" update.

Stoking the fires of fate

"Each player must accept the cards life deals him or her. But once they are in hand, he or she alone must decide how to play the cards in order to win the game." - Voltaire

Fate. It's the one word that makes some cringe and others squeal with excitement at the prospect that their life is already predetermined, presumably in the best of ways. But if life is just a road map that we navigate to the same destination, how do we determine which choices are really the best ones?

Choices. Another striking word that evokes some of the most stressful anxiety from our minds. We ask ourselves the simplest of questions that lead to the most complex of situations: "Is he the one?"; "Do I choose him or my career?"; "Am I ready?"

Unfortunately, life does not provide us with a top-of-the-line GPS system to assure us that we're headed in the right direction. The choices we make are left solely to our own judgment, our own peace of mind.

I have been left contemplating where my life choices have taken me in the past year, what role I've been given as a result, and how my life may be different today had I taken a different unfamiliar route. On a deeper level, I'm left to consider whether fate, that elusive word that escapes all human comprehension, really does exist?

I don't doubt that we've all found ourselves in eerie predicaments at one point or another that have left us wondering this same question. You run into an old flame on the street against all odds; your trip to the coffee shop substantiates into an earth-shattering relationship with someone who happened to be sitting next to you; you find sparks with your co-worker at a new job you were initially skeptical of taking.

And of course, you imagine what direction your life would have taken had you not taken that new job, decided to go to the coffee shop that day, or taken that particular detour you did while walking on the street. Is it possible that, despite all of our efforts, strategies and boundaries we try to layout in our love lives, that our "destiny" is controlled by something ... dare I say ... supernatural?

I've never fancied myself the type to put faith into things I can't directly see or experience, but I believe I've stumbled into the territory of what I call a "closet fater." And really, what is so unfathomable about the idea of love being beyond the realm of logic? Anyone who loves their abusive boyfriend, their husband that they know is unfaithful, or that euphorically addictive but toxic person in their life can tell you that reasoning plays little role in the dynamics of such an emotion.

In that case, maybe it is not so much fate that drives our direction in life, so much as love itself. It isn't predestined, but it is likely to pull us in one direction over another. To believe in fate, ultimately, is to believe in love.

We may not have the choice of deciding who we love or whether that love blossoms into everything we want it to be, but we do have the comforting choice to believe in fate, in all of its otherworldly glory.

A Bicycle Built for Two

Every so often, a single lad reaches a point where he has to wonder whether he's really the "relationship type." With all of the relationship-heavy scenery surrounding us, it gets to be the default answer to just tell yourself that your life plan absolutely demands one, without even considering what you want from such a thing, or whether you need one at all.

Is it possible that, despite the oft-overwhelming emphasis on couplets, we don't actually need long-term relationships to make our lives fulfilling?

My summer has come along with a lot of come-and-go dates. While some were more intriguing than others (like my dinner date at IKEA),they all ultimately met the same fateful demise. And as I began to consider the reasons why, I could suddenly feel a light bulb glimmer and spark atop my head.

It seems that as the "rules" of dating continue to develop, we as a people lose our comprehension of what it means to be in a relationship, and why they should be cherished in the first place. How can one find authentic meaning in a relationship built on superficial rules and hidden agendas? (Not to contradict any of my tips for dating, of course.)

Relationships should not be any more about joint mortgages or social status than Suze Orman should be about managing the perfectly feminine appearance.

The persisting issue today is not that we persist and obsess over relationships, it's that we do it for all of the wrong reasons. We want a partner so we aren't stuck at the counter while eating our apple pie in the diner; we want to show off just what our collective package can get us.

We don't want a relationship, we want another label.

If there is one thing I have confidently figured out in my time in the glorious City of Philadelphia, it's that finding a "great love" is not something that can be manufactured or manifested in a Facebook relationship status. A great love is something that develops over time and with great emotional investment, not over a planned-to-death dating layout that puts a wrong focus on coaxing someone into a relationship.

There is a reason standard bicycles come as a one-seater: life is meant to be traveled alone, unless you're lucky enough to stumble upon that special person you trust just enough to keep your bike peddling.

Inhaling a New Vision for Romance

When we imagine our lives in the long-term, we envision a certain layout of how things should gradually take shape. You go to college, you date, you start your career, and when all aspects of your life seem to fall into place, you get married. But what happens when the order of these life events shifts? What happens when you meet "the one" prematurely?

I embarked on a spontaneous excursion to a hookah bar a few days ago with some friends, looking for nothing more than a good time and an evening of relaxation. What we ended up experiencing was something much deeper.

The owner of the lounge, an expressive Lebanese man in his mid-forties, immediately caught our attention as he took our order. After a few huffs and puffs from our waterpipe, we decided to spark conversation.

What we quickly learned, was that the man was a former engineer for corporate America who had cut all ties to the corporate world in favor of a more laissez faire lifestyle that catered to his needs as well as the needs of others. He had given up a six-figure salary in favor of smoking hookah in a restaurant until two (and sometimes four) o'clock in the morning every day and night.

But he claimed that what made it all worth it was not just the relaxed nature of his new business venture, but the simple ability to be with his family and stop living the life he had felt expected to live. (It's worth mentioning that his daughter was our other server.) His culture and religion, he said, put emphasis not on money or extravagant lifestyles, but experiencing life with family - no matter what your social status. The traditional "American dream," as many like to refer to it, does not exist in his culture.

As it turns out, his romantic life is very much out of order by the standards of today's youth. He and his wife met in college when they were only 19, and were married at the same age.

"I saw my wife, and I thought ... why not?" he said.

The example served as something strikingly significant, not just because of the fact that they were married at such a young age, but because they were married at that particular age without any extenuating circumstances. I've witnessed people getting married at an early age, but always for various reasons. They lacked the stability to stand on their own feet, they found themselves "knocked up," or they married their high school sweethearts because they didn't think they had the energy to keep looking. None of these things appeared to be the case here.

To make things more interesting, he made a surprisingly strong case for why marriages in America seem to ... well, flounder. According to him, what makes marriages fail in our culture is our uncanny ability to plan everything that we do. We get married after we've experienced our "single selves" and move into a marriage thinking we can settle down but still live our lives as if we're single. In other words, we lack boundaries.

Now, as I look back on the conversation, I can't help but wonder how much we may or may not miss out on in the process of developing a "plan" for our lives. Do we miss out on the true loves of our lives, just because they don't fit into the blueprint we've constructed for our ideal selves? Have our own standards killed our chances of experiencing marriage in its most glorious form?

Rather than awaiting a life that we've dreamed for ourselves, it seems appropriate that we should stop waiting for our dream lives to come to fruition, and start embracing living the lives we've been given. If you happen to stumble upon someone you truly love at an unexpected point in your life, it might just be better to stop asking questions and start experiencing. And if at this point you still find yourself asking an overwhelming number of questions, ask yourself only one more:

"Why not?"

Introducing the 'Your Life, Your Love, Your Story Campaign'

Got relationships?

"Sex and the City of Brotherly Love" is ready to hear your side of the story. When it comes to relationships, it's always important to remember that there is an exception to every rule, a story to counteract every common belief. This is where you come in.

It's one thing to write about dating and relationships from an outside perspective, and another to witness it first hand. "Brotherly Love" wants to hear all of the gory intricacies of your relationship; every gleeful reminiscence, every near-break-up moment, every scandalous detail to what makes you and your significant other "tick." And most importantly, what role the City of Philadelphia has had on the dynamics of your dyad.

But this campaign is not for the faint of heart, nor the extreme optimist, nor the extreme cynic. This is a campaign for the realists in the world - in Philadelphia. This campaign is not about spreading love, it is about spreading truth.

If you and your partner would like to be profiled as an example of a "real" Philadelphian relationship, simply send an email my way at brandon.baker@temple.edu. The process will be quite simple: we meet for coffee (or tea, if that's your thing), I grill you with the tough questions, and you check back to brotherlylover.blogspot.com soon after to see the result. If you have further questions or hesitations about what to expect or what the campaign represents, do not think twice about inquiring.

Let's make this city a better place for relationships to sprout and blossom, one story at a time.

A Hop, Skip and a Check Away from True Love

Realizing that you love someone stands as the biggest “aha!” moment of a person’s life. There is no greater realization, no better feeling to be had for the human soul. Despite the trouble and anxiety that is very likely to ensue in the future, you truly have no concept of your euphoria deepening after experiencing such life-altering feelings. To the stronghold of your emotions, you’ve reached the top of the mountain.

Still, the aftermath of this realization has an unfortunate tendency to throw an innumerable amount of questions and problems our way, producing that curve ball we just can't seem to hit out of the park. Once you finally find love, what do you do with it?

I fondly recall a time where sorting through your emotions was as simple as passing along a note and asking a person to “check yes or no.” It was easy, it was to-the-point, and it was effective. You had the answer to your question just as quickly as it surfaced. For this reason, I can’t help but wonder ... what changed?

It appears that somewhere along the line we find ourselves battered and bruised to the point of no return. Writing that very straightforward question on a piece of paper is no longer representative of a hopeful future, but the possibility of an oncoming doomsday based on a dreary past.

Which brings me to my point: At what cost do we “protect ourselves” in the long journey of finding and keeping love?

Our modern lifestyles particularly enjoy glorifying the one-night stand that serves to make our romantic comedies interesting and keep our gossipy friends entertained. Yet really, does a one-night stand serve as anything more than a scapegoat for insecurity?

That’s not to say I view one-night stands as a sign of loneliness and desperation. Sometimes it’s best to recognize that a good f*** is just that: a good f***. However, our lifestyles are, more often than not, a striking reflection of the state of our emotions. It seems perfectly reasonable to assume that if someone is going to the club every night – “single and fabulous” or not – they’re going in search of something more than a vodka martini. Even the most seemingly stable and blissfully promiscuous deal with their own love-struck dilemmas, and struggle just as much as your average write-in to “Ask Ann.”

I’ve spent quite the chunk of time in my life trying to understand why people feel the need to constantly keep themselves at arm’s length, and it becomes clearer and clearer to me with each passing day. Yet what comes with this understanding, to my own surprise, is not so much an acceptance of this idea of “protecting yourself,” but a motivation to break apart those emotional barriers.

It seems awfully counterproductive to spend your life shooing away love and fending off its affects, when the unconscious (quite literally) craves its attention. To say that our minds are not dependent on relationships, would be like saying that our bodies are not dependent on food. Pushing away these bare necessities are unhealthy and detrimental to the same “self” you aim to preserve.

I’ve been a consistent advocate of avoiding dwelling in my blog entries, and I maintain that moving forward means not looking back. All the while, it is more important to note that moving forward in your life requires conscious effort – just because you’re not looking back, doesn’t mean you’re moving forward.

Finding love and moving forward with it means putting yourself out there, whether that be with a high school-style note or an awkward face-to-face conversation with whom you believe to be your one true love. Turn back the clock on your commitment-phobic self and embrace the idea that maybe, just maybe, love isn’t another aspect of your life that you can control. You may face a few added risks by embracing this idea, but you just might find that it’s worth it when that radiant love note finally gets passed over to your desk.

'Giving and Taking' for a Better Tomorrow

In your greatest times of desperation, you find yourself sitting alone somewhere, thinking about just how low you’ll go to get even a slice of what you really want. We seek out that distraction that we deem necessary to brighten our lonely nights and, ultimately, our lonely lives. But what if what we really need in life isn’t at all what we’ve always believed it to be, and our hopes, dreams and expectations serve as nothing more than a mere mirage in the desert of the mind?

In many respects, life is one grand game of give-and-take. You give yourself to someone in hopes that what they have to offer in exchange is worth more than what you’re giving up. But what happens when, like passing along trading cards on the playground, you find yourself giving away a Charizard in exchange for a Goldeen?

In my own travels, I’ve stumbled upon all kinds of relationships with varying degrees of this give-and-take dynamic. I’ve witnessed those who cherish their partner enough to “settle down” when they’ve never thought themselves as “the marrying kind;” and I’ve met others who have tragically and (on the surface) delusionally given all of themselves for a relationship based on poor foundation.

But the one thing I’ve found in common with these relationships, despite my own cynicism and the apparent lack of inconsistency, is a smile. They give, they take, they fight, they complain, but they always end with a smile. In a dating world that demands that others find a balance of the game of give-and-take, how is one to interpret a relationship that thrives despite a lack of this so-called ideal dynamic.

In the time we spend analyzing our dating lives and determining what is “proper,” it seems likely that we miss out on what we truly want, and what we truly need. We become so obsessed with this idea of balance and appropriateness, that our definition of what makes a relationship successful becomes … jaded.

The moment you find yourself content in a relationship is most likely to occur the moment you realize that a relationship is never going to be a real-life reflection of your own fantasies.

Regardless of what logic might have you believe, a successful, balanced relationship finds its success not in the count of months that it endures, but the count of smiles that are constantly plastered onto your face. Even when or if the relationship meets its end, who is to say that that makes the relationship unsuccessful? Why spend days, weeks and months mourning our “failed” relationships, when we could celebrate the wonderful times that preceded the unfortunate end of an era?

Life, as entangled as it is in the game of give-and-take, is measured better by your own relative stance on success. Finding love and losing it isn’t something to be sour or bitter about, it’s something to celebrate. You celebrate not just the fact that it happened, but the fact that it was able to happen, and that it will happen again.

So, no matter where you are in life, no matter how lonely or desperate you may feel, raise a glass to the comforting thought that you can feel at all. Because in the end, even if you find yourself as an elderly “cat lady,” you can rejoice in knowing that you were able to share your love, and give it away to someone (cat or otherwise) you gave worth to.

10 Tips for the New Dater in Philadelphia (Part 2)

As promised, below are the remaining five tips for the new dater in Philadelphia. (And don't forget to check out the first five if you missed them!)

6. Create a conversation, not a reading of your first memoir. It's good if you have things to talk about, and it's natural to want to sell your goods, but don't drown your conversation with talk of your cat or all of your forgotten dreams. It isn't that no one cares, it's more that you're opening up too much of yourself before someone can be given the opportunity to care.

7. Don't drink too much before, during, or after your date. If you're slurring your words at "hello," you know you have a problem. Your rate of drinking can be better felt-out once the date begins and you get your first drink, assuming you're at a bar, restaurant, or the person's house/apartment. (And if it's the latter, then your date sounds like it's already set for success.) After your date, drinking tends to only lead to over-analysis of the night's events, and if you know yourself to be the reflective type, know to especially avoid the hard liquor.

8. Stick to your guns. As much as you would like to argue otherwise, deep down you really do know what you're looking for. If the guy or gal is too thick, thin, prickly, wimpy, whatever it may be; don't settle for something you know you aren't content with. Or in other words, don't make shit shine.

9. Be creative with your Philadelphian date destination. No one wants to be taken to Starbucks on their first date, when there is a perfectly attractive local coffee shop down the street. And if you're gay, please know better than to take your date anywhere in the Gayborhood. It might make sense on the surface to have a "gay date" in a gay-friendly area, but do you really want to deal with the possibility of your date checking out the view mid-sentence? You don't need to add competition into the already complicated political dynamics of your date.

10. Hold off on that good night kiss. Philly men are just too non-committal and apprehensive for a good night kiss; it's a cold, bitter reality of the "Philly flake." Besides, it's important to realize that your kiss is a very symbolic tool in the realm of dating. You may want to reserve that kiss for leverage in the future. And if your date does miraculously go in for a kiss, don't be afraid to tease. It makes the chase all that much more exciting.

As previously mentioned, "Sex and the City of Brotherly Love" would love to hear your own tips on dating in the City of Philadelphia - or just in general! Let your voice ring loud for all of your lovely and lustful Philadelphian comrades by shooting me an e-mail at brandon.baker@temple.edu with your dating tips or comments on the compiled list above!

10 Tips for the New Dater in Philadelphia (Part 1)

Philadelphia is loaded with an unfortunate amount of suburban and rural newcomers that are painfully unaware of how brutal the Philadelphia dating scene can be. As someone who has been around the block once or twice, I offer my advice based on the experiences I've had thus far in Philly's dating world. Hopefully this list can help prevent a few heartbreaks and disappointments from coming to fruition... and maybe even lead to some success stories?

1. Do not text a person in between an introduction and a first date. The whole point of a first date is to get to know someone, and form an impression based on all angles of an individual. This includes body language and tone of voice. It's counter-intuitive to have your first date before you actually have your first date.

2. Know when to change yourself and when not to. This is perhaps one of the greatest pieces of advice I can offer anyone new to the Philly dating scene. It is only natural that you'll have to alter your "real self" for your date; dating is a lot like running a business. You need to market your product, know your key demographics, and present yourself with a reasonable asking price. However, know what's worth changing about yourself for someone, and what is completely unacceptable by your own self-respecting standards.

3. Know which dates are worth making in the first place. So many people become either jaded or pessimistic because of their choice in dates. If you're unsatisfied with the dates you go on, then by all means, change your target audience. Don't keep dating the same types of people over and over again, expecting a different result. That isn't how it works. You may find that the guy or gal that seemingly "isn't your type" is the love of your life.

4. Don't limit yourself to one dating resource. You like meeting people through the Philly bar scene? Cool. I'm sure there are plenty of success stories from people meeting at Woody's and Tavern (note the hint of sarcasm), but people who frequent these places tend to either be looking for something that isn't quite defined as a relationship, or to pull a "flirt and flake." If you want to meet a variety of people or someone "wholesome," look elsewhere. Try Shoprite.

5. Always go into a date prepared to pick up the tab. And please, people, leave the feminist-inspired bullshit at home. I'm not saying you need to pay for dinner, but be prepared to offer. Very few people honestly like paying for someone else's dinner without at least being given the chance to not have to.

Look out for the remaining five tips this Wednesday. If you've experienced something that's taught you a valuable lesson about dating and the elusive feeling of "love," please shoot me an e-mail at brandon.baker@temple.edu or leave a comment below. "Sex and the City of Brotherly Love" wants to hear what you have to say.

Fighting the Fairytales for the Life of the 'Single and Fabulous'

Living the life of the "single and fabulous" is, more often than not, quite the challenge - especially in the City of Philadelphia. You believe in love, but you don't believe in its necessity to living a good life. You believe in companionship, but you don't believe that it needs to come in the form of a life partner. And most importantly, you believe in sex, but you don't believe one lover is enough to last a lifetime.

Our society loves to put down those who live the single life as narcissistic or, worse yet, cynical. They claim that if you're living life out loud as a single person, then you must simply be "lost," which is, more often than not, followed-up with that blood pressure-raising stare of sympathy that says "Honey, you just haven't met the right person yet."

As any Philadelphian that ventures out on a Friday night can tell you, this city is filled with single men and women. But it's worth noting, that being "single" is much different than being "single and fabulous."

If you've ever watched a Disney movie, you're very much aware of the heaping amount of pressure put on individuals to find their Prince Charming or Cinderella. When was the last time you heard a fairy tale that ended with the girl being single and enjoying a cosmopolitan at a bar on a Friday night?

You don't; but that doesn't mean you shouldn't.

Our lives ultimately boil down to what we make of them, and as it seems, we try to make them unrealistic love stories that just never come to fruition. We linger, we dwell, and we expect nothing but the best for ourselves when it comes to love.

But consider this: What happens when you have spent your entire life making decisions that revolve around the mere possibility of someone coming along? Consider, for a moment, whether you could live with yourself knowing that you'd spent a lifetime making your story another version of a ninth-century writer's deluded fairy tale.

Obsessing over love does not make it come to you any faster, nor does it make your life any more accomplished than it would be otherwise.

Truly, to be a compelling version of "single and fabulous," the first step comes not just in realizing that your so-called "soulmate" may never stumble upon you, but expecting that very outcome. Plan your life on the realities of today, not on the hopes of tomorrow.

But perhaps what one really needs to know about being "single and fabulous," is that the label is not (and should not) be defined by the example of the person that frequents ICandy every night, or has promiscuous sex just for the sake of doing so. After all, the label isn't "single and desperate."

What is really fabulous about being single, is the self-confidence you build in the process of understanding that your life does not need to be recognized or built-up by anyone other than yourself. Who cares if your significant other doesn't approve of your career path? Who cares if he/she thinks you're too "this or that;" what matters is what you think of yourself. And if you don't love yourself, then certainly no one else is going to love you.

Some call it harsh, some call it deviant, some call it a bad Lady GaGa song. I call it fabulous.

Finding Your Heart in the Heart of Philadelphia

Many of those who frequent Rittenhouse Square will tell you that it is the heart and soul of the City of Philadelphia. There you will find street performers evoking awe and wonder from large crowds, clusters of hipsters staring into the sun with their aviator sunglasses and cut-off jeans, and a sea of park-goers soaking up the sun as well as the culture of Philly.

Yet strangely enough, I don't really frequent Rittenhouse Square Park that often. So one day on my afternoon off, I conformed and took a stroll down the fancy schmancy streets of Rittenhouse to observe what all of the hubbub was about.

What I discovered was a magical place full of energy, activity and excitement; a place full of men.

Short men, tall men, jock-inspired men, hipster men, even the unavoidable creepy old men. This, ladies and gentlemen, truly is the heart of the single lad's Philadelphian fantasy.

Being the curious person I am, I sat down with my copy of "Summer and the City" (shocking book choice, I know) and a frappuccino to give myself a legitimate reason to be in the surroundings. Unfortunately, my only seating choice was on a bench across from a middle-aged man attempting (and failing) to impress with his sun-burnt 50-year-old chest.

But I digress. As I engaged myself into my reading and my observing, I noticed a young couple sitting a few feet in front of me on a patch of grass. Neither could have been older than 17, and they had that gag-worthy "I'm young and in pretend love" look in their eyes ... or at least the female clearly did.

The young man she was with, on the contrary, couldn't have looked more bored. He sat patiently with her, apprehensively clutching her hand every few minutes as they read their books, as if he expected something in return for his "romance." And yet I caught him staring at me every few minutes, and couldn't help but wonder why.

I was fairly confident he wasn't gay, and there were plenty of other interesting people to be looking at in the area. I didn't bother staring back, as twinks really aren't my thing ... but it did cause me to ponder another question.

At what age, at what part of our life cycle, do we become as confidently self-aware with our emotions as we are with our libido?

I can tell you what kind of guy I go for from the outside, but when it comes to figuring out all of that lovey-dovey stuff, I haven't the slightest clue. Sometimes, it makes that high school romance based purely on physical appearance seem awfully appealing by comparison. Wouldn't it be nice, if our biggest concern was still who to take to the prom?

We all like to believe there's that special someone waiting in the world with the key to our heart, but what do you do if you never stumble upon that person? Are there multiple, universal keys out there waiting to unlock your heart? Or maybe it's a combination lock, and it's up to you to give someone the "secret code" to your inner workings.

Regardless of this ongoing mystery, it seems one thing is clear. Finding the answers to such questions will not come in the form of an instantaneously gratifying "eureka!" kind of moment, nor is it something you will come to by sitting alone in your bedroom, cuddling with your cat and watching "He's Just Not That Into You" for the millionth time.

With an entire city to explore, finding the answers to your own heart can be as easy as unearthing the inner valves of Philadelphia. And if you happen to take a few sultry detours along the way, then well, that's just another part of the process.