Too Provocative to Fly 'Family Airline'

This woman was kicked off a Southwest flight for being dressed inappropriately (watch the Today Show clip here).

Even though Today viewers caught a flash of underwear when she sat down, her outfit resembled the stuff lots of women (and Abercrombie-clad preteens) wear to the mall. She's carrying more fabric than the broads on Desperate Housewives, that's for sure (well, except maybe for Lynette).

On a planet where PTA members take their children to Hooters for dinner ("The best hot wings!" they squeal), the line between appropriate and inappropriate dress has blurred to oblivion.

Gotta wonder about the real motive of the "gentleman" crew member who lectured this passenger about her attire on a "family airline." My guess: His girlfriend just kicked him to the curb, and he needed to humiliate somebody.

How to Email a Guy In a War Zone

Dear Terry:

I have really, really enjoyed and benefited from your emails since I signed up. It's great perspective.

I have a question to throw into the mix. While there are a number of potential candidates for dates at the moment, the man I think I like the bet is, unfortunately, deployed to Iraq. I've never met him; he's someone my Dad thought would be great for me, but we're both formerly married, so the conversation got going over email last January when it became clear we were both now divorced and available. Initially, I just treated it as a sort of a reach-out to a person in a war zone and therefore under considerable distress (my small part to help the troops...Yadda yadda yadda).

But we have a great deal in common (as it turns out), and my Dad may well have been right (wonderful man, my Dad) that this guy is a good match.

So what I'm wondering is this: If you've never met someone, and he's in a war zone, how ought you conduct a "relationship," or at least a semi-romantic exchange? Do the rules shift at all? The specific instance is that there are more occasional gaps of several days between his messages. As a general rule, one should not (did I get this right?) send more messages to a man than one receives. Does this rule still apply in this particular situation? I feel I'm in an awkward compromise between trying to be a compassionate stateside perspective provider and a candidate for girlfriend/wife at some future time. So I'm perplexed.

Thanks again!

-E.

Hello, E.-

I definitely respect and admire your compassion for the troops, but no, I don't think the rules shift. You write, he writes, you write, he writes.

Let's pretend you're the one deployed to Iraq: You get a message from a guy you don't know who turns out to be the son of an acquaintance. Intriguing.

You write back. He writes back.

You get sent somewhere where you don't have access to a computer. When you get back, you are immediately sent somewhere else where you don't have access to a computer. In your few spare moments, you roll the contents of your correspondent's last message around in your head. You mentally formulate a response.

You finally get access to a computer. You sit down to write to your new friend, only to discover he's beaten you to the punch. You read his letter, which, while very welcome, requires you to revise the letter you planned to write to him. You send your message. Then you are sent away again.

When you return, you find one...two...three...messages from your new friend. You're still glad to hear from him, but his stock is dropping by the minute.

Do you see what I mean? Clearly, this man knows that you're compassionate toward the troops. If you don't hear from him for a while, there's no need to reassure him of that fact. Write to him only after he writes to you.

Thanks for your very kind words, by the way. I'll keep my fingers crossed for both of you!

-Terry

He's Cheating On Me. What Should I Do About It?

Dear Terry:

How about we women who are married and know our husband is cheating and can't get a divorce due to reasons beyond our control? Are there ways to peak our husbands' interest, become more mysterious, and make him wonder what he is missing?

I vascillate between wanting to be charming around him and being so angry that I want nothing to do with him. I've read How to Get Your Ex Back, but what about when you are still together and not getting what you need from the relationship? There are no consequences for his behavior; therefore, he has no reason to change. I would love to hear your thoughts on this one.

Thanks.

-K.

Thanks for writing, K.-

First off, let me say how sorry I am that you're even in this situation. Nobody deserves to be cheated on.

I don't blame you for vascillating between anger and wanting to charm your husband. Since it's hard to make sense of things when you're in the middle of them, talking to a good friend, therapist, or member of the clergy may help you put things in perspective and come to terms with your very justifiable anger.

I've known several excellent women who've been in your situation. One of them, an extremely attractive, smart, talented, kind, and funny person did all she could to right her relationship. She sought therapy, and because her religion frowns upon divorce, spiritual counseling. In the end, everyone she consulted encouraged her to end her marriage. She didn't have the financial resources at the time, so she made it her goal to prepare for-- and get-- a job that would allow her to shake her husband loose.

She succeeded.

If you decide to try to make your husband realize what he's missing, I guess you'll have to forgive him, which is no small feat (I wouldn't be able to do it myself, but other people can and do).

But if--say, by some act of God-- I managed to forgive the jerk, here's how I'd resuscitate his affection for me:

-I would be smiling, serene, jovial, funny, whenever my husband had the good fortune to be in my presence. Then I'd disappear for a bit, even if it meant running out to the drug store. I would systematically and methodically limit his time with me.

The key is to stop being taken for granted. I'd be unpredictable (without being irresponsible). I would alter my routine.

-I'd immediately replace my underwear. Any white briefs cluttering my drawers would give way to lacy new gear in colors that make me feel great (if I couldn't afford La Perla, I'd hit Target; they've got some lovely stuff).

-I'd buy a few bras that look alluring drying on the shower curtain (and look even better on me). I would absolutely not hop around the place in the new undergarments in an attempt to seduce my husband. I would enjoy wearing them because of the way they make me feel. Let him wonder what I look like in them.

I would, however, leave them on said shower curtain. That should have him thinking of me in flattering terms in no time.

-If I'd given up doing my hair (or getting it cut regularly) or wearing makeup or caring for my hands, I'd take it up again. I'd also slowly rub cream onto my calves, feet, and ankles before bed and let my husband watch. Then I'd roll over and turn off the light.

-Since I do most of the cooking these days, I'd do less of it and let him fend for himself. Since we have children, I'd probably hang around more to chat with other parents after piano, soccer, Religion, church, whatever. I'd also make frequent plans to meet other adults for coffee or to take the kids out for pizza. I'd be be out of the house more than usual.

-If I felt like it, I might leave a note for my husband telling him I wouldn't be too late, but that he should probably help himself to whatever's in the fridge. Then I'd come home looking my best in the prettiest clothes appropriate to the day's activities. (The idea is not to turn myself into eye candy, but to let the man wonder why I'm suddenly looking so good all the time.)

-If I had a job outside the home, I would agree to meet colleagues for drinks spontaneously and often. I would wake up 10 minutes early in the morning and leave the house looking smashing, even if my job involved wearing a vest and a nametag.

-Repeat: I would be smiling, serene, jovial, funny, whenever my husband had the good fortune to be in my presence. Then I'd disappear for a bit, even if it meant running out to the drug store. I would systematically and methodically limit his time with me.

-I would not try to make him jealous, take up with another guy, and so on (that could backfire).

-I would tell the truth on all occasions ("Mary and I are meeting at the bookstore to look around and have a cup of tea," for example) and let him wonder what I was really up to.

-I would never mention his other woman (or women) under any circumstances. I would not call her names or snipe about her. After all, she's irrelevant. He's the problem.

If the guy is capable of giving you what you need in your relationship, these tips could do the trick. I must warn you, though, that he may not be capable. If this turns out to be the case, it's not your fault.

In the end, all you can do is all you can do. You cannot make any relationship work without the consent and participation of the other party. (Read that again: It took me ages to learn it!) Even if you do manage to make your husband "see what he's missing," there's no guarantee he won't revert to his dishonorable ways.

Again, if this happens, it is not your fault.

I hope this helps, and I wish you all the best in everything.

Men Are Polygamous, Women Are Monogamous

By now, you know I don't buy it.

I've known many a faithful guy who had his heart torn out by a faithless woman, and vice versa. Some biologists claim that men are hardwired to look around, if not cheat, while women in relationships are programmed to tuck their eyes back into their heads.

Which is nonsense.

Let's be mature about this: Once you fall in love, other attractive people will tend not to fall off the planet. You will probably notice them some of the time, or all of the time. The trick is to treat your guy the way you'd have him treat you. You don't flirt with other men, ogle other men, carry on about other men, or sleep with them, either.

That said, you should expect the same treatment from your guy. Some women and men insist that men are incapable of fidelity, but Manslator Jeff Mac says otherwise.

I say we listen.

Glistening Needles and Tongues on 'Rock of Love'

I'm still scratching my head over Sunday's Rock of Love (actually, I've worked a hole into my scalp). Just when you think you can no longer be blown away by the absurdity of it, you look out the window to find your patio furniture flying across the yard.

This week's episode featured three of Poison singer Bret Michael's "superfans" (as he calls them) or groupies (as I call them), corralled to determine which of the remaining LSEs (or contestants who suffer from scarily low self-esteem) were worthy of competing to be his concubine.

Bret introduced the superfans to the girls (as he calls them). "This is Amy," he said of SF Number One. "I believe she still sleeps in the first t-shirt I ever threw her."

Bret may be short on hair, but he sure is long on ego.

The superfans started throwing their weight around. One of them warned, "As a rock star's girlfriend, you can't disappoint him in bed." She then ordered an LSE to demonstrate her proficiency at faking orgasms.

The episode only got better when LSE Heather decided to show her commitment to Bret by having his name tattooed onto the back of her neck.

"If Heather actually goes through with this," Brett said, "it would impress the shit out of me."

At the tattoo parlor, Heather lay down her neck, while Bret rhapsodized about the eroticism of submitting one's flesh to the needle. "I've had some of the best sex ever after getting tattoo work done."

Some women would kick a guy in the head for mentioning sex with other women after they'd had his name branded into their necks, but not Heather. Who knows? Maybe her devotion will pay off.

After the deed was done, Bret gushed, "Looking at my name on the back of Heather's neck made me feel close and romantic."

Apparently, not romantic enough. At the end of the show, Bret eliminated this week's reject, an LSE by the name of Sam, who'd been deemed "too sensitive." Heather and the rest of the hopefuls stood shifting uncomfortably while their man consoled Sensitive Sam with his tongue.

One Man's Perspective On Married Women Who Keep Their Names

My father is visiting me for Labor Day weekend. Last night he informed me that he plans to "die broke," as recommended by Stephen Pollan. Then we got to talking about women who don't take their husbands' last names.

"If I were to get married again," he said. "I wouldn't encourage anyone to take my name. What would she want to do that for? She's had one name for 70 years, and she's going to have to fill out all those forms? It just doesn't make sense."

Nice thinking, Dad (but are you trying to tell me something?).

Of course, some women want to fill out all those forms, and that's cool, too.

Are Men Attracted to Women With Gray Hair?

If you were to ask me, I'd say no. But Peter says yes.

In 2002, he and I went to New Orleans (without kiddies) and took a walking tour of the Garden District. Among our group was what I thought was an older woman with striking silver hair and beautiful skin.

"That's what I want to look like when I get old," I told Peter.

"Old? She's not old," he said. "Look at her. She's not even 50."

I sneaked a longer look. No, she probably wasn't even 50, but, boy, she was striking.

Peter's always telling me I should stop coloring my (heh heh) prematurely graying hair. "Be proud," he says.

"I am proud," I tell him. "I just don't want to be invisible"

Interestingly enough, the current issue of More magazine features an article by a woman who performed an experiment to see if men are indeed attracted to women with gray hair.

The author, Anne Kreamer, said she came across a survey that reported, "An overwhelming 86 percent of women and 91 percent of men said they would not date someone with gray hair, preferring instead someone who looks younger."

Kreamer set out to find the truth by posting two photos on Match at separate intervals, first as a brunette, and then with gray hair. Surprisingly, the gray-haired photo pulled considerably more looks and "winks" (a Match term meaning that a looker wants to exchange emails). She retried the experiment several times, targeting different geographic areas, but her findings remained consistent.

Enboldened, she and a friend went out to Pete's Tavern near Gramercy Park in New York (nice place, by the way). She sat down next to an attractive man, sensed interest on his part, and started flirting (turns out he was a 39-year-old electronics specialist with the Merchant Marines).

Eventually, she told him the truth about her experiment and asked his opinion of her gray hair.

"Men just don't care about that," he told her.

As for the rest of this particular issue of More, I liked it. A financial planner at my entrepreneurial group brought a back-issue to our meeting yesterday and recommended we check it out. I'm glad I did. I subscribe to more magazines than I can shake a stick at, but I just may make room for one more.

Strangely enough, I just check the More website, which includes an article about how to color hair. According to the accompanying blurb:

"Blond, brunet, or gray, the perfect shade can trim years off your look. Use these expert tips to find your best color."

Are you confused yet? I am.

Spying On a Guy

A while ago, I addressed the subject of women who routinely check men's cell phones to see if they're talking to other females.

Although a couple of women responded to say they'd done it because their guys had lied to them at some point, I still maintain that it's a bad (and unattractive) idea. Once you catch a person in a lie, you have a pretty good idea who he is, anyway. Surveillance isn't necessary.

Manifesting Mr. Right author Ronnie Ann Ryan has an opinion on this subject (and just about everything else). Read it here.

Envisioning Your Happily Ever After

If you want a happy relationship, it helps to have good role models. But let's face it, in this age of the dueling Lohans (not to mention the 50% divorce rate), they can be hard to come by.

Today's Dear Abby featured letters from two men who've been happily married for many years. Look for the signatures, "Tutu
Kane" and "Gina's Man in Virginia."

Very inspiring.

And at Manslations today, Jeff Mac answers a reader who wants to know what the heck a guy means when he says he's "anti-marriage."

Show Me Your Hits

Of course I tuned in to Rock of Love last night. I'm a fool for the show, if not for its star, Poison lead singer Bret Michaels, who has offered himself as God's gift to a gaggle of women with low self-esteem (henceforth to be known as the LSEs).

Last night's episode had the LSEs separating into teams to come up with the cover art for Bret's forthcoming solo album.

The first team made the mistake of putting forth a photo featuring an LSE dressed up as a dirty old man, which deeply troubled Bret's henchman. "Are you saying Bret's old?" he demanded.

The second team offered a highly original Angel/Devil theme with a brunette LSE clad in a red teddy straddling a blonde in a white teddy. Of course, those clever foxes won the challenge.

"Like the girl-on-girl action," Bret remarked.

You gotta love this dude. He's a real visionary.

The winning team's creative director, a pink-haired LSE with beautiful features, won the top prize: alone time with Bret, whose leathery face is doomed to reincarnate into a Harley Wallet.

"Wear something warm and sexy," Bret advised the poor sucker.

According to VH1, next week "The Girls Take It Off." As if they haven't been taking it off already.

Do You Hate Your Job?

If you do, you're not alone.

Fortunately, Michelle Goodman has written a fun-to-read and highly informative guidebook to help you escape the "corporate hamster wheel."

I found Michelle's book, The Anti 9-to-5 Guide: Practical Career Advice for Women Who Think Outside the Cube, at the library last month while I waited for my younger daughter to be sprung from her writer's workshop.

Here's the funny thing:

The woman in the author photo looked a lot like the Michelle Goodman I worked with at the job I mentioned (and hated) in the previous post, but it had been 15 years since I'd seen her. I went home, read the book, and liked it enough to call Dorothy, the owner of the new independent bookstore in my neighborhood, to order a copy for me.

It's a great book. But what, you may ask, does it have to do with dating?

Well, it's my philosophy that happy people attract good circumstances, friends, jobs, and lovers. Unhappy people attract more unhappiness. When you're so stressed your skin hurts, it shows. If you're overworked, underpaid, and bitter about it, believe me, people sense it. It's not a turn-on.

So, whether you're showing up at work with your hair wet because you can't get up in time for your 9-to-5 routine, or if you just want to flee Corporate America to explore your real passion, you might want to check out Michelle's book.

Take a look at her website while you're at it, too.

By the way, I emailed Michelle. She is indeed the Michelle Goodman I worked with.

An Anniversary of Sorts

Eighteen years ago today, I flew to San Francisco to be by myself. I had to get out of New York.

I was stuck working a rotten job I hated that hated me back. My roommate (and best friend since grammar school) and I had a major falling out that caused me to move out of the apartment we'd shared for two years. (Although I've never experienced a divorce, the loss of this friend sure felt like one; fortunately, we reconciled after the birth of my first daughter.)

Oh, and I was still hung up on a man who hadn't the capacity or the intention of ever loving me back.

I had been making a point to get out and meet new people, but the guys I met didn't do it for me. For the most part, they were decent looking, had good jobs, but they lacked something. To be perfectly honest, I lacked something, too. They were better off without me.

The most recent of these guys worked as a producer at a major network. He did some of the right things: Called when he said he would, showed up when he said he would, and made polite conversation with my parents, whom I'd moved back in with. But the guy drove like a maniac. He also squealed like a psychotic chimp when he lost his car in a parking lot.

I ended the relationship on a Saturday, went back to my cube on Monday, and wanted to kill myself Monday night. At this point, I made a vow: Don't date until you meet someone worthy of dating. Make yourself worthy of someone worthy of dating.

I had started working in earnest with the Law of Attraction about a month before, hanging out in my little brother's room (covered with a mix of posters that included Anthrax, Van Halen, and exercise guru Kathy Smith in a bathing suit) after dinner and writing affirmations while listening to Kate Bush, Tears For Fears, and Simple Minds.

I decided I needed a change of scenery (living in my parents' house facilitated this revelation). Travel had always cleared my head, and I needed clarity. So, one desperate evening after another soul-massacring day in the cube, I stopped at a bookstore and found a travel book on San Francisco. I liked San Francisco. I wanted to go.

But my best friend and I were no longer friends (she and I had been travel companions, having gone to England, Ireland, and Scotland together the year before, and the year before that). I had no boyfriend, and I really didn't feel like advertising for a new companion among neighboring cube dwellers.

I decided to go by myself. The travel book listed a Bed & Breakfast called The Red Victorian Inn on Haight Street, where I could get a room for $75.00 a night (about all I could afford). I called and was booked into the Inn's 'Sunshine Room.' I booked a cheap flight on a crappy airline, which ran out of pillows and lost my luggage on the return flight but managed not to crash.

Staying in a B&B afforded social opportunities I wouldn't have found in a hotel. Because guests ate breakfast together in a common room, I became acquainted with a beautiful South African dancewear designer who worked for Mikhail Baryshnikov. She and I went out to see Baghdad Cafe, an obscure film starring The Shield's CCH Pounder. I had lunch with another woman, who'd recently sold her business in London to travel around the world.

I spent a day by myself, checking out a record store on Haight Street. I went to the Japanese Tea Garden in Golden Gate Park. I walked to Union Square, Japantown, and Chinatown. I got lost in the maze that is the Presidio, until I gave into common sense and got a pair of bicyclists to show me the way out.

I didn't meet any fantastic men, but when I came back, I felt different. I had experiences that took the edge off the broken friendship, the romance that would never be, and the tortuous days in the cube.

Travel, for me, is about possibility: I see new things outside me. I see new things inside me. Therefore, I am different.

It sounds corny, but when I came back to New York after four short days, things changed for me. I kept the rotten job, but it got easier, and they offered me more money. Eventually, they kicked me upstairs to a better job which allowed me to travel.

I kept my promise not to date. I wrote my affirmations every single night. In October, I started a dating a guy who's sister promised he'd treat me "like gold," which was strangely appealing. He did treat me like gold, but by Martin Luther King Day, the relationship started to feel like a dress rehearsal for something better. I ended it.

In February, Peter asked me out. We went to Fishtales, a seafood restaurant in Manhasset, on a Wednesday for our first date. We ended up staying out until 3AM, and we've been together ever since. Eleven months after my solo trip to San Francisco, we drove up to Cape Breton Island, off Nova Scotia, where he introduced me to his grandparents.

My life had completely changed.

Dating and Commitment From a Man's Perspective

Why do some guys freak out whenever the word 'marriage' comes up? Check out this smart and funny post on Men, Marriage, Commitment, and Terror from Manslator Jeff Mac.

For my perspective on why some women freak out when they hear the word 'marriage,' click here.

Cruise Alone or With a Friend

Virginia's a cruise planner I met in June 2006 through my networking group for entrepreneurial women. She's booked vacations for several of us, and everybody raves about her.

In July, she took the pastor and 50 parishioners from St. Lawrence Roman Catholic Church on a 3-week cruise to Italy and the Greek Islands. A goodly number of them have already booked another trip with her for next year.

She just emailed to advise me of a 4-night cruise on Royal Carribean's Navigator of the Seas to the Western Carribean. The ship will leave Fort Lauderdale on November 29th (the Thursday after Thanksgiving, which might be a good time to get away before Christmas drama ensues).

The timing and pricing may make it ideal for a quick getaway alone, with a couple of friends, or with a special friend. Interior Staterooms start at USD $304.00. Oceanview Staterooms start at USD $509.00.

Space is limited. Book with Virginia before August 30th, and you'll get a $25.00 on-board credit. She's personable and easy to talk to. Give her a call at 1-800-794-0741, and tell her Terry sent you.

On Being the CEO of Your Dating Life

This morning on Today, ad exec Donny Deutsch offered dating advice to a single mother. The 38-year-old never-married woman, who has a job she "loves" and a 4-year-old she "adores," is reluctant to throw her life out of balance by getting involved with a man. She says she has supportive friends and family. She seemed pretty content to me.

I'm sure Donny meant well. He suggested that this woman "test market" dating, so that "five years out," when her daughter may be tired of hanging out with her, she'll have "options." (Gotta love the corporate-speak.) Ann Curry chimed in, telling her, "People may say you're not taking care of your emotional needs" by not having a man on the scene.

If only it were that simple!

While I've never met the woman subjected to Donny's theories on dating, I do have ideas of my own on why she's hesitant to hook up with--or even meet--a man at this point in her life.

For instance:

Once she starts dating, the possibility exists that she'll fall in love. Once she falls in love, the possibility exists that she'll either move in with the guy or marry him. Once that happens, the possibility exists that she'll be stuck with a another job: Taking Care of Him (which could include doing his laundry, cooking for him, picking up his dry cleaning, shopping for his mother's birthday presents, and so on).

And if she marries him, she'll also have to face the question of changing her name. She may not want to change it, but his parents and much of society may smirk if she doesn't (yeah, she can keep her name professionally, but it's not the same).

The guy might not be satisfied being stepfather to her child, either. He could insist on having children of his own, and she may feel obligated to get pregnant. And then make arrangements for childcare. The decisions and sacrifices might never end.

So much for her emotional needs.

Today this woman is captain of her own ship. Letting a man climb aboard it could destroy her autonomy (just ask a successful woman who married and suddenly found herself signing her name beneath her husband's on a tax return).

And then again, it is entirely possible this woman could exempt herself from this nonsense. She could meet and fall in love with a man who does his own freaking laundry, who isn't threatened if she keeps her name, who is proud of her accomplishments at work and at home, and will be happy to be father of a child who didn't emerge from his gene pool.

She could, absolutely.

But when you look around and see all the women who still check their identities at church doors, it's easy to see why she spends Saturday nights watching 48 Hours.

Bret Michaels Continues to Terrify Me

Peter busted me watching Rock of Love again the other night. "Isn't this kind of against everything you stand for?" he wanted to know.

"Leave me alone," I said. "It's research."

The latest episode featured women racing each other into porta-potties to be the first to change into hooker gear. By now you should know that Bret Michael's girl "always has to look hot" in a hurry.

The prize?

Alone time with the hair band frontman himself (whether he actually has hair is debatable; some of the traffic I get to this blog is from people who've keyed "bret michaels bald" into search engines).

Bret doesn't seem to be worth the effort. He's self-involved as hell, and for a 4-needle-a-day diabetic, he sure does drink a lot.

The Kid's Getting Married!

Busy weekend:

The offspring returned from two weeks at camp on Saturday. Yesterday, we attended a party to celebrate the recent marriage of a good friend at the Manhasset Bay Yacht Club. I had a great time, especially since my father and all the siblings attended.

Out on the deck overlooking the water, my brother whispered to me that he'd gone to Tiffany's to buy an engagement ring for the woman he's dated for the past year (we really like her). He said he didn't know how or when he'd propose.

After Peter and I and the girls arrived home in Connecticut, the phone rang. It was my brother calling to say that he'd indeed sealed the deal. He and his fiancee will marry in December '08.

In case you're wondering, he met her through an online dating service. Like most people who've tried online dating, he waded through his fair share of duds, for sure.

But this girl's a winner.

Ready to try online dating? Click the black box on the right.

Turn On Your Love Light at the Blood Drive

I rarely find myself without something to do, but today I had time to kill and remembered a blood drive going on in town. Ordinarily, I would have talked myself out of donating, as I've done since the last time I gave blood, oh, six years ago. But I decided to go for it.

Lying there waiting for the blood-taking-person to insert the needle into my flesh (yes, I am a giant baby, and I am always careful to alert any and all blood-takers to treat me gently, lest I collapse into convulsive wails and humiliate myself beyond redemption), it occurred to me that my old friend, G, and her boyfriend, A, started giving blood together early in their relationship.

At the time, I admired their altruism, but I had no intention of joining it. I did notice that their devotion to each other grew after the first donation, and they made appointments to keep going back. They were the first couple among the group I hung out with to marry. Many years later, they remain together happily.

I suppose they still give blood, although I can't swear to it. Over the past few years, they've taken up participating in Run/Walk events to benefit sufferers of Cystic Fibrosis.

My parents used to give blood together, too, and they remained happily married for 44 years, until my mother died two years ago this August 20th.

Giving blood with a date may seem like an odd alternative to getting tickets to Daddy Day Camp, but it's an adventure. It's a scary thing for a lot of people. It requires sacrifice, which is kind of attractive. It requires vulnerability, which is definitely attractive.

And when it's over, donors feel a sense of achievement , which can facilitate closeness. It also brings on an uncontrollable urge to celebrate.

Just be sure to make an appointment before you go, or you could be stuck sitting around for hours.

What Kind of Man Are You Dating?

Natalie Morales and her guests Kate White and Dale Atkins help you figure it out in a silly but mildly entertaining Today Show segment.

I doubt Today will ever run a story helping fellows decipher women. The burden of reading minds seems to fall exclusively on females in this society.

Personally, I've opted out. I don't read minds.

Here's my credo when it comes to relationships: If you like me, show it. If you have something to say, say it. Treat me as you would have me treat you, lest I get fed up and hit the highway.

Meet Lots of 'Maybes'

This morning's Today Show ran an excellent, if unfortunately titled, segment on how to meet someone special. Check out the video here.

I love the tip about getting a $25 webcam to screen online 'duds.' It surely beats learning a guy's not what he claimed after jockeying across town to meet him.

I could do without the segment's title, though, which is "Desperate to Date!" Yikes. Most single people aren't desperate; they're just too smart to settle.