Since the creation of the Sex and the City series on HBO, there have been many, many dating and social advancements. One, the idea that love can happen and will be waiting around the corner was reintroduced and reinforced. Second, the world saw how fabulous it is to date in New York but were also sympathetic to the duds we have roaming the streets. But, there were a few negative side effects to Sex and the City. One, brunch was stolen from the Gays, and two, some of us want to go on suffering just like Carrie Bradshaw.
Are we seeking dating drama to justify our lives. What? Not date? Are you crazy? Sure the last guy I dated implied I was a bit beefy and that I needed to loose at least 15 lbs so I punched him in the nose, walked home in the rain and then got New York nasty city-water splashed all over me while I cried to my best friend on the phone. But stop dating? Stop looking for my Mr. Big? Stop looking through Match.com or clicking on Nerve? Never! What kind of dater do you think I am?
A dramatic dater, that’s who. Why are you so persistent on dating? Take a break. Take a class. Take a nap. Rethink your dating values and create an authentic intent in your dating life. Are you dating out of fear, just to have sex, to have a relationship, to get a free meal? (Child, I love me some free steak!) Yes, Carrie Bradshaw was fun to watch, but when the 30-minute episode was over, so were the overly-dramatic conversations about love, sex and Big. We are not who we see in the movies, we are not characters in a t.v. series and we are not Carrie Bradshaw.
Nandoism #15 In a time when we’re looking for “The one and only,” an original, the real love of our lives; yet, we’re basing our dating lives on fiction, I can’t help but wonder, “Will all this mimicking only bring imitations of the real thing?”
Who did we date like, before Carrie Bradshaw? Leave a comment.
And don’t forget to check out my new eBook, Dating Stuff: The Things About Dating You Ought To Know available for download, now!
Yes. Yes. Yes times a million.
I was actually just thinking today how much it annoys me when female writers who discuss relationships, fashion & living in NYC are called “real life Carrie Bradshaws.” I, personally, would not take that as a compliment.
I think you’re absolutely right about taking a step back from the dating-drama to fall in love with yourself. Plus, isn’t Miss Bradshaw the one who pontificates that the most important relationship you have is with yourself?
Thanks for the awesome post!
xoMeg
Yeah–I also get that as a blogger, “The Gay Carrrie Bradshaw” but is it a compliment? hmmmm? Oy!
Thanks for reading and for commenting–u rock, chica!
People are just lazy! Instead of creating a unique moniker they fall on the banal! You’re the gay Nando and that’s that! Sheesh! Everyone is an original and Carrie is the last one on the planet who should be emulated!
.-= Dash´s last blog ..Guys- please stop harassing women =-.
Actually a slight modification. That isn’t just “that’s that.” You’re more. But I was trying to make a point. Loves ya!
.-= Dash´s last blog ..Guys- please stop harassing women =-.
A big congrats on your ebook.
.-= Elisa´s last blog ..Returning to Croatia from the States =-.
Thank you! It’s an accomplishment, now–time for the other book! Glad you’re back home safe…and eating mucho, mucho mussels!
I think your blog is awesome Nando! Loved reading some of your posts… You rock!
Thanks Garyth–it’s always fun to get new comments from new readers–I appreciate the love. And I think YOU rock!
i’m afraid i dated like jane eyre
D
DD true… and dangerous 
)
btw i really loved this post and i have to admit that i’ve never thought that actually male gay dating can end with punches in the face
child, it can also end with fruit PUNCH and VODKA! we are just fabulous like that!
I’d like to thank Jim Morrison and Kurt Cobain for convincing me from a young age that my ‘one’ would be a bad-boy womanizer whom of course, I tame.
Carrie Bradshaw reinforces such behavior.
Thus far, this has not gone according to plan…
.-= wanderingmenace´s last blog ..Near death experience in a Parisian airport =-.
Does anything ever go according to plan? Especially when it involves: sex, a man, and high heels?