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July 25, 2007

Terms of Endearment

TERMS OF ENDEARMENT: WHEN SWEETHEART GOES STALE, NEW YORKERS GET CREATIVE
TIME OUT NEW YORK
JULY 26-AUGUST 1, 2007
JULIA ALLISON

I once had a roommate in college who shunned the usual terms of endearment – the babys, the sweeties, even the pumpkins – and instead affectionately dubbed her boyfriend “Pooper.”  He, (because really, how does one top that?), also called her Pooper.  Did I mention they said it in baby voices?  They did.

Ew?

Yeah, yeah, a rose by any other name and all that.  I get it.  But really ... POOPER??

Actually, despite my aversion to romantic monikers involving bodily functions, I’m a big fan of personalized (if perplexing) pet names, myself.  They’re unique!  They can’t be reused, like the all-purpose “honey”!  They speak of a connection deeper and more intimate than the one-size-fits-all “darling”!  And yeah, sometimes only you and your partner understand them.  My ex Alex and I called each other Bidden #1 and Bidden #2 for years.  Which might have been cuter if the term hadn’t started out as a nickname for my shih-tzu puppies.   Or maybe their furry origin is what makes them cute in the first place.

Pet names that began as actual pet names are more common than you’d think.  Rachel, 34, a lawyer, explains that she called her ex “Schnoogie,” a nickname for her dog. “He would be like, ‘I’m not a fucking dog,’ and then laugh.’”  Jeff, 30, an editor, and his wife, Carina, 30, a doctor, call each other “Chicken,” originally their cat’s name.

“First of all, we started doing it because that's what old man Karamazov calls his little prostitute in The Brother Karamazov, so it has major highbrow bona fides,” he says.  “Except that we didn't actually start doing it to each other.  It was what we called our cat.  But then we had to give the cat back to my sister, and we had this great nickname and no cat to use it on.”

Or sometimes the epithets just sound like what you’d name your animal.
 
“I like to call my man Spot and he calls me Killer,” says Natalie, 25, an artist.  Aww.  “And if you think that’s cute, my dad calls my mom ‘The dead vessel.’ I think it means that they are done having children.  Whatever.  ‘Is the dead vessel speaking again?’ he'll say with this grin on his face. My mom calls my dad ‘sperm donor.’ Yup.  The love runs pretty deep in our household.”

Some couples use pet names to the exclusion of all else.  “Nicole only ever calls me ‘Nate’ if she’s angry, and likewise, it freaks her out if I call her ‘Nicole,’” says Nate, 32, a reporter, of his girlfriend of almost two years.  “My main pet name for her is ‘biscuit.’  Sometimes I call her ‘pickle,’ which she doesn’t like as much.  When she’s PMSing I call her Crazylove, which she doesn’t like at all.”  

Pickle?  How ... romantic?  Although, that wasn’t the weirdest I heard over the course of researching couples’ nicknames.  Try: “Llama,” “Blanket,” “Colt,” “Tiger Twinkies,” and “Moo.”

  “I had a French beau who called me PETIT CHOU and MA PUCE - which means my little cabbage and my flea – and I wondered – are these COMPLIMENTS???” says Karen Salmanson, host of the Sirius radio show Be Happy Damnit.  She got off easy. “Had he been from el Salvador I would have been called MI GORDITA -- which means MY FATTY!”

  “My sister dated a guy she called ‘Fish Boy,’” says Brent, 25, writer. “And a guy I used to work with called his girlfriend ‘Dead Tooth Crack Ho’ (which is a surprisingly descriptive pet name).”

  Wow.  Pooper’s starting to sound pretty good.

  Still, some people aren’t big fans of odd, overly gushy love handles. “Pet names are for little dogs that fit in handbags, not the person you love,” says Jeremy, 33, a lawyer. “Why?  Because it’s cutesie, juvenile crap, people are people, not pets. Pet names belong in high school relationships not between adults.”

  And sometimes the pet name is favored by the giver but not so much the recipient. Angela, 23, in PR, generally uses “babe” with her boyfriend of over a year, but his name for her isn’t quite so … welcome.  “Despite hailing from New York, I managed to pick up the nickname ‘Jerze’ in college, thanks to his frat brothers.  More insulting is that a girl he hooked up with right before was from Connecticut.  She, apparently, was Jerze #1, leaving me as Jerze #2.  I guess when you go to college in Virginia, anyone from the tri-state area is somehow ‘Jersey trash.’  Poor New Jersey.”

“He’s not allowed to call me ‘Jerze #2’ to my face anymore, though,” she reassures me.

“I once knew a guy who called his girlfriend ‘Honey,’” says Jane, 32, a writer. “which we all thought was so sweet until he admitted (not to her) that he did it when he couldn't remember her name. She married someone else.  He’s still single.”

  See?  Use terms of endearment blasphemously and you’ll be smote.

 
CHECK IT OUT
There’s a nickname generator online that asks you to type in your first and last name, and it will generate creative terms of endearment for you.  When I typed in my name, it came up with: “Puppie pot chocolate kisses bon bon.”  Not sure how they derived that from Julia Allison, but ...um ... I suppose at least it’s imaginative.  Although when I typed in the name of a friend, it came up with “Butter Hot Pooh Peepers.”  I might just use that one instead.

July 18, 2007

Bodily Dysfunction

BODILY DYSFUNCTION
TIME OUT NEW YORK
JULY 18-25, 2007
JULIA ALLISON

Personally, I would prefer that the men I date think of me as a nice-smelling robot – incapable of peeing, farting, burping, menstruating, sweating, or, yeah, #2.  And honestly, I’d be quite content to think the same of them.

It’s not that I’m against bodily functions, per se.  I suppose they have their purposes - toxin excretion, gas discharge, uterine housecleaning, womb regeneration, that sort of thing.  I just don’t think they have a place in the tenuous and judgmental world of dating.

That said, there comes a time in every relationship when the reality of being a living, breathing, and yes, excreting animal becomes difficult to avoid – particularly since most NYC apartments lack extra bathrooms and soundproof walls.  But how long until you can relax your, uh, “standards” in front of your significant other?  Or should you ever? “I don’t know if there’s a time frame at which point something becomes ‘acceptable,’” says Nick, 24, a banker.  “Like pooping in front of your boyfriend doesn’t become acceptable after six months every time.  It depends upon the girl.  Mostly it grosses me out.”

He’s not the only one. “For guys,” says Ned, 41, a magazine writer, “nothing kills it faster than seeing, hearing or even imagining anything involving women and excrement.”

Um, exactly.  There’s a fine line between cute-we’re-comfortable! And murdering the mood … forever.

“I will go to my grave not pooping,” says Maureen, 28, an editor. “Pee is totally different – I can talk to a guy while peeing.  My threshold is shit.”

A college boyfriend of mine regularly peed in front of me, but scuttled back to his dormitory to do anything more, ah, serious.  Another boyfriend used to go down to the lobby of any hotel we were staying at to “get the paper” – which was, of course, code for “I have to take a giant …” well, you know.

Personally, I’m a big fan of the Camouflage-Pee-Sounds-with-Running-Water trick, a widespread coping mechanism during the first few months of dating.

But some guys find peeing … hot?  “There’s a big difference between girl-peeing and guy-peeing,” says Ned. “Girls can actually make it seem sexy.  They’re seated, it’s quiet, and there’s the whole dangling-panties thing.  Guys pee like donkeys.  A guy really shouldn’t pee in a girl’s presence until she pees in his.”

“Depending on how much I like the guy, it’s a few weeks until I turn the water off,” says Madeline, 25, a designer.  “It's the poop that's tough because water isn't helping with the odor. That's the beauty of public bathrooms.  My mom has actually not pooped for weeks while on vacation with even her husbands.  There should probably be a clause added in the vows that a man will still honor and love you no matter how stinky your excrement is!”

“Bottom line,” she says, “when I get married and have my own house, my dream is to have my own toilet!” 

Dare to dream, Madeline.  Dare to dream.

July 12, 2007

Matchmaker's Mark

MATCHMAKER'S MARK
TIME OUT NEW YORK
JULY 11-18, 2007
JULIA ALLISON


On any given summer night, men at outdoor bars have four general goals: (1) Enjoy the weather; (2) enjoy their buddies; (3) enjoy the alcohol; (4) get laid.

Given the obscene amount of time men have collectively spent trying to figure out the most expeditious way of achieving No. 4—years of monosyllabic discussion (“You bang her yet?” “No.” “Sucks.”), whole books devoted to the art of the pickup (like 2005’s best-seller The Game)—you’d think they would have mastered it by now. Um, no.

So on a recent Saturday night, I decided to put my dating-advice columnist life on the line, hopping down to Bohemian Hall and Beer Garden (29-19 24th Ave between Crescent and 24th Sts, Astoria, Queens)—a huge outdoor space with beers and, yep, more than a few sausages, both the edible kind and the kind that needed my advice. My goal was to turn the trendy prevailing wisdom—never buy a girl a beer, or tell her she’s attractive, or in any way make it obvious you want to sleep with her—on its head. Of course you want to sleep with her! And maybe she wants to sleep with you too. Also, she’s thirsty. You might as well buy her a damn beer.

Use the obviously contrived come-on


You know, like “Baby, those must be space pants, cause your ass is outta this world!” The crazier and cheesier, the better. Keep it light, get her laughing and you’re in.

I asked Tom, 21, an engineer from Hoboken, to try out a crazy line on two ladies. “Do you want to dance?” he asked one plaintively, following up with a laughing “Please tell me you two are lesbians!” The women loved the invite, thought the lesbian line was borderline funny and ended up on either side of him, kissing his cheeks for a photo op. Then, caught up in the moment, he yelled out, “Now suck my cock!” They were less than thrilled.  With those four little words, he murdered his own game. RIP, wanker.

Surround yourself with hot women

I spotted my next guinea pig, Kevin, a 31-year-old fireman, drinking beer with two friends. Would he let me hang out with him to see if arm candy would work in his favor? He would. We walked around the place, looking for single ladies and letting them get a glimpse of us together, but when the time came to finally approach a potential pickup, having a hot woman next to him didn’t help much.

What happened? I couldn’t understand. Matt, 35, a teacher, explained to me, “Girls always want what they can’t have. She’s looking at him thinking, He’s a six, she’s a nine—what does he have? They want to figure it out!”

“The key is, you can’t walk up with a good-looking girl,” he continued. “You have to just be seen with her, then approach solo. And explain very quickly that she’s just a friend.”

Ahh. I send Kevin to do just that, pointing out a gaggle of four girls. He starts chatting them up. They’re leaning in, they’re laughing.  Nice. I feel like a pimp when he comes back and says, “The one to my right would have gone home with me.” Score.

Buy her greasy food

You’re at a beer garden, so offering to buy a girl a beer could be too obvious. A hamburger, on the other hand?  Sort of cute. Very low-key. And she’ll feel obligated to talk to you for more than four minutes.  The truth is, every girl wants to scarf french fries, but no girl wants to order them.  Use this to your advantage.

I got Kevin’s friend Jason, 35, a bar owner, to buy two cute blond ladies burgers while Kevin made nice. They happily munched while the guys laid it on thick. After they parted ways, I asked Kevin how it went. “If you want to know if I’ll sleep with them by the end of the night,” he said, “the answer is yes.” Kevin certainly had no lack of confidence, but I was watching the women’s body language—and, despite their onion breath, I wouldn’t have bet against him.