Between multiple dating site memberships, smart phone applications and text-message-analysis sessions with friends (...and wine), most of us are asking the same question: "Is this really it? Is this person my soul mate?" We fret, plan, purchase and peruse all because we're dying to meet someone before our time is up - before our dating life has officially expired.

Now, I know you are thinking: “Why in the hell would I take dating advice from this guy? He can’t even get a second date!” Well, while that may be true, I have some advice to offer regarding first date etiquette that will be sure to land you a second and a third. Basically,  it’s the exact opposite of what I normally do. And maybe, by writing this post, I will teach myself a thing or two as well.

Over the past few years, I have spoken and written all about my horrendous dating life. Sure, there were a few dates that didn’t leave me crying on the E train, but those aren’t that fun to tell, right? No one asks “How was your date last night?” in hopes that you say, “Fantastic! I think I found the one!” No. They want to hear about the uncomfortable small talk, the crazy stories, and the awkward hello.

The winter in New York City was never-ending. For 6 months straight, I had to bundle up in scarves, puffy jackets, long johns and knit hats just to take on the brutal frigid weather. I needed a break. I think for the first time since moving to NYC I uttered the phrase, “I miss Florida.” I expressed my feelings of missing the sun to my friends, family, and the person who works at the 24 hour gas station. But no one really cared.

The other night after getting home from the gym (right?) and then cooking myself grilled chicken and broccoli (right?) I looked at the clock and it read 9:06pm. It was Sunday and I had nothing to do. Usually, I enjoy my nights in, especially on a Sunday, but I was off from work the next day and wanted to actually do something!I had been talking to this guy on Tinder for about 2 weeks on and off, nothing serious, but we have been trying to find a night to grab a drink and hangout.

Yesterday afternoon, I went to Starbucks hoping to get a quick cup of coffee. Realizing now that the words “quick” and “Starbucks” are anything but synonymous, I ended up leaving the coffee shop, empty handed and headed back to my office to finish up the remainder of the day. I work in a decently sized building in the Columbus Circle area. It’s not a huge skyscraper, but it’s also not a three-story-walk up. It’s somewhere in-between.

Flying is never fun…especially when you have a layover in Atlanta, like I did last Wednesday. I was coming home from a week spent in sunny Florida, visiting my parents, drinking Corona Light’s out by the pool and avoiding friends from high school at the supermarket.

Monday morning, I woke up, made myself a pot of coffee and sat down on the couch to read the news…and check my Twitter account. In the process, I somehow stumbled onto Grindr and browsed some of the nearby profiles. I have been (desperately) trying not to go on Grindr as much, but just like the cheesy gordita crunch at Taco Bell, it’s fucking addicting. 

Just before Myspace was going out of style and I still resided in Boca Raton, I received a message from a guy named Bryan. Apparently, we had a few mutual friends so he sent a quick message to say hi as he added me as a friend. Back in the day, I would add people just because I liked their shirt. From browsing his profile and photo albums, I immediately fell in love. He was adorable. He was smart. He was a Southern gentleman. But, he lived in Georgia.

A few days ago I had a dentist appointment on 50th and Madison to refill a cavity. While waiting for the dentist to see me, I did what all single gay men do when they have time to kill, I opened Grindr. It’s always exciting going on Grindr in a new area and see different guys, so while I was browsing, this one profile struck me out of all the others. His picture was of him sitting on a boat wearing a life preserver, and I thought that was cute.