Sister Christian, oh the time has come

Okay, so it's inherently disturbing that I'm quoting Night Ranger lyrics (frankly, it's disturbing to remember Night Ranger at all). But the time has come, people, time for me to throw in the towel and join a nice, agnostically-oriented convent, preferably one that serves coffee before morning prayers. Because my divorce is finally final, and after reviewing my checkered history of relationships during a few recent bouts of insomnia, I think the time has come to face the fact that I have dubious taste and questionable judgment when it comes to men, and should perhaps consider a life of solitude and celibacy.

To those near and dear to me worrying that, by sheer virtue of the number of the following examples, I am likely to be made the September selection in the Ho of the Month Club, rest assured, I haven't even dated that many guys. I just know how to pick 'em. No, I share these Useful Hints in the hopes that someone might learn from my mistakes. I myself have learned from a few of them; the problem is that I seem to be highly proficient in making new and ever dumber ones.

1) I don't expect the men I date to be stellar examples of physical fitness; I have definite couch potato tendencies myself. But men, in general, need to learn to say no to bikini underwear. Ripped abs or not, the banana hammock look isn't kind to anyone.

2) Likewise, men need to stay away from silk pajamas. Should I someday forget this little fact, I can rest secure knowing that my brother-in-law Chris will always be ready to refresh my memory. Chris, many years ago, was deeply scarred after seeing an old boyfriend of mine thusly attired the morning after a family gathering when we all crashed at my mom's house (to be honest, I was a little freaked out myself: I hadn't realized I was dating Hugh Hefner). My sister tells me that for the next several weeks, he would randomly grill male friends and acquaintances about their opinions on the matter, apparently trying to make sure he was not the only one offended by this sartorial transgression.

3) Dating a bisexual man? Maybe not a good idea. Dating a married man? A worse idea. Dating a bisexual married man? Wrong, wrong, wrong on so many levels.

4) If you tell a man that the influence of a particular "self-development" group/cult contributed to the demise of a pivotal relationship in your life, and several weeks later, they tell you that they decided to check it out for themselves (and by the way, they signed up for the advanced workshop, and the optional seminars, and...), cut your losses and run for the hills.

5) Similarly, if a young man tells you that Ronald Reagan and George Bush were the best things to ever happen to this country, even if you can't remember how long it's been since you were on a date, and you're sporting the freshman fifteen and the sophomore saddlebags and whatever else you've accumulated thus far in your junior year, and he's really, really cute, show some pride and show him the door.

6) It's never a good sign if a man increases his visits to his therapist from once to twice a week while he's in the throes of dating you. Even more so if this man happens to be a psychiatrist who's fiddling with his own medications.

7) Alcohol is sometimes referred to as a 'social lubricant', and on occasion, a glass or two of wine may help a person say the important things that they might otherwise be too afraid to say. After the second glass, however, what comes out is most often stupid shit that is best kept to yourself. Case in point: this weekend, I went to a concert with a male friend - just a friend. We stopped and had dinner beforehand, and he had a few scorpions (i.e. a scorpion bowl poured into a tiki glass, consumed by one person instead of many). I'm still mortified by what came out in the ensuing conversation and can't bring myself to render it in all its glory here, but if I ever go back to his office (since unfortunately he also happens to be my eye doctor), I will likely be wearing a burqa and carrying pepper spray, just in case.

You may be thinking that these are the mean-spirited ramblings of a bitter divorcee. And while my first reply to that is "And your point would be?", I do take responsibility for my part in all of these relationships. After all, I voluntarily dated these people (in some cases, repeatedly). But life is absurd, and love even more so, a sentiment that is perhaps best expressed in my final example today:

8) (my NYU friends should appreciate this one). Let's say you've just met a new guy. He asks you what you do, and you tell him that you're a student midwife. If his idea of a suave response is:
"A midwife? Does that mean you don't believe in birth control?",
trust me, ladies, marry him at your own peril.