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December 31, 2012 / Andee Frizzell

Who Killed The Woo?

cheeseOver a bottle of wine, or two, my girlfriend Kay, also a single 30-something and I were discussing what we were calling ‘dating etiquette’ or more precisely, the lack of dating etiquette in the 21st century.

Me: “When did it become acceptable to text someone at 3am, looking for a date, with an invite to ‘watch a movie?

Kay: “What happened to dinner reso’s at a restaurant that actually accepts them, not a pub?”

Me: “Restaurant reso? Haha That’s called, ‘The Art of Wooing.’ It died out with the horse and carriage I think.”

Kay: “Is that because this generation of men are raised fatherless and have no connection to what it is or was to be a gentleman?”

Me: “Well…if boys are raised by their mother’s then wouldn’t she have raised them to win a woman’s heart; to respect and cherish her feminine uniqueness? And to never, never ask , is it that time of the month?”

Kay: “Have we neutered the 21st century man with unrealistic demands of personal grooming, emotional sharing and feminism?”

Me: “Hmmm…Good point. Perhaps. Now pass me that bottle of ‘clarity juice.”

The conversation went on like that for quite awhile and finally ended with us making a pact to revive The Art of Wooing a.k.a ‘dating etiquette’ from this point on. I add here that any plans made after two bottles of wine have the likelihood of coming to fruition as well…me waking up with set of double dee’s, possible but highly unlikely.

So, I waited eagerly for Kay to call. She had accepted a date with a Brazilian guy she had met the night after we had made our pledge to bring back the Woo.

Me: “So, where did you go for dinner?”

Kay: “Umm…We…didn’t go for dinner?”

Me: “What?”

Kay: “Well…he couldn’t decide on a restaurant so we met at his place so we could decide together. When I got there he had an open bottle of wine and we started chatting.”

Me: “Then?”

Kay: “Well…it got too late to go out for dinner. So, he had some cheese, nice cheese, mind you, left over from a party he had had over the long weekend. We noshed on that and had a few more glasses of wine.”

Me: “Kay, the long weekend was a month ago. Luckily, cheese, even nice cheese only gets better with age or you might have shit your pants. So…how’d the date end?”

Kay: “I got home this morning at 11am.”

Me: “KAY! You gave it up for left over cheese and a box of wine?!”

Tisk…tisk

This is where I’d like to blame Kay for single-handedly killing the Woo, but alas, there are more accomplices.

My friend Stephan moved here from Belgium a few months ago and he told me about an experience that had happened to him during his first week on Canadian soil.

Stephan arrived here a week before Halloween. His roommates must have brought him up-to-date on Halloween customs and the costumes that single men should wear to guarantee a lay or in the least, a hand job, because he was dressed like an Air Force One Pilot, Top Gun style. And ladies, we all know that we have a weakness for men in uniform, even if the breast pocket of said uniform is stitched with the title; sandwich artist.

Stephan tells a tale of meeting and pursuing a potential prospect. They had coerced all evening and at the end of the night, 3am, when most 21st century males are either scoping the left behinds at the club or are texting mass outreach pleas for dates, (pleazzeee); Stephan offered to walk his new found lady friend home.

During the eight block walk home, the escorted turned to Stephan and announced, exasperatedly, that she would now have to have sex with him (because of his act of chivalry) or her friends would think she was a bitch.

To clarify, Stephan asked, “Sorry, I don’t understand. You have to have sex with me to ensure your friends won’t judge you a bad person all because I walked you home?”

“Yes.” She replied.

“I sang the Canadian national anthem (land of the free to give it away) for a week. I emailed all my friends back home and told them to immigrate to Canada IMMEDIATLEY!”

We give it up for nice cheese and a walk home….seriously? Settling for less than you’d expect, is that our motto?

We, single, dating ladies of the 21st century, we have killed the Woo. Mystery solved.

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