The Oracle of Dating

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Authors: Allison van Diepen

BOOK: The Oracle of Dating
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The Oracle of Dating
The Oracle of Dating
Allison van Diepen

To all of the guys I’ve ever dated.
 (Yes,
you.
And even
you.
)

one

  • Find Tracey a great boyfriend
  • Make a choice about my hair: straight or curly, because wavy just isn’t working
  • Cure cereal addiction (possibly through hypnotherapy—see Yellow Pages)
  • Write more blogs for the Oracle of Dating Web site, give lots of dating advice, make stacks of $$$ and quit job at Hellhole
  • Take the Oracle of Dating to the next level!!!

Y
OU MIGHT THINK
that September is a weird time to be making New Year’s resolutions. Well, Mom never accused me of doing anything on time, especially tidying my room, loading the dishwasher or Swiffering the kitchen.

“I don’t see how you ended up with an eighty average last year, Kayla,” Mom says. “You’re always chatting online or on the phone.”

Which implies that I am not being productive.

The truth is, she has no idea what I’m really up to.

Brrrrinnnggg!

I clear my throat and answer, “The Oracle of Dating.”

“It’s client number zero-two-four.”

“Sabrina?”

“You remember me!”

“I do. What can the Oracle do for you?” I scoot over to my computer and open up my PayPal account to see that her five-dollar payment has been received.

“It’s about this guy, Shawn, I’m dating. I hate going out in public with him.”

A case of total butt ugly, perhaps?

“Why’s that, Sabrina?”

“He always embarrasses me somehow. Like when we went to the school dance Friday night, he was dancing like a maniac. Everybody was staring at him.”

“He’s a really bad dancer?”

“The worst. It’s not just that. Wherever we go, he says
or does something dumb. But when we’re alone, he’s really sweet!”

“Mmm-hmm.”
Listening noises are very important
.

“What do you think I should do?”

“Have you talked to him about this?”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t get it.”

“I have another question for you, Sabrina. Do you love him?”

“I wouldn’t go
that
far. We’ve only been dating for a couple of months.”

“Why not find a guy who wouldn’t embarrass you in public?”

“It’s not so easy getting a boyfriend. He’s only the second one I’ve ever had.”

As I well know. Sabrina’s been calling me to discuss every crush and flirtation in the past six months.

“Ask yourself this. Are you with him because you really like him, or because you like having a boyfriend?”

“Er, maybe the second thing.”

“How would you feel if he answered the question the same way?”

“I wouldn’t like it.” She sighs. “I guess I have to break up with him?”

I lift the phone away from my ear and pound a tune into my little xylophone.

“The Oracle has spoken.”

“Thank you, Oracle. I know it’s the right thing to do.”

“Good night, Sabrina.”

 

I
KNOW WHAT YOU’RE
thinking. What makes me such an expert on dating? Have I had lots of boyfriends?

Um, no.

There have only been two, and both were disasters. But I’ve learned from each one, and now I think of them, with total detachment, as Case Study No. 1 and Case Study No. 2. I even made retrospective notes.

 

Case Study No. 1: 9th Grade, November.

 

Lead-up to relationship:
weeks of note-writing and flirting, a subtle ass-grab at a school dance and a kiss behind the portables.

 

Relationship length:
one month.

 

Activities:
playing video games, kissing in his basement, playing more video games.

 

Conflict:
He often wouldn’t answer the phone because he didn’t want to interrupt his video game. His gaming addiction resulted
in a thumb injury for which medical care was required, and he was unable to hold my hand due to a thumb splint.

 

Outcome:
He didn’t see me as a girlfriend, he saw me as a gaming partner, make-out buddy and occasional history tutor. So I gave him an ultimatum: “What do you care about more, me or your video games?” He answered: “They’re my thing. I’m a gamer, babe.” Babe?

 

Case Study No. 2:
10th Grade, March.

 

Lead-up to relationship:
I met him at a party. He remembered my name and added me on Facebook. We chatted online for a couple of weeks before he finally asked me out.

 

Conflict:
None. He was totally sweet. Or so I thought.

 

Outcome:
After three weeks of going out and making out, he changed his Facebook picture to one of him kissing another girl. ALL of our friends saw this. I called him immediately: “Are you trying to tell me something?” He answered: “Sorry, I didn’t know how else to say it.”

My two boyfriend disasters only confirmed what I already knew: teenage guys are less mature than teenage girls. Therefore, if I want to date my equal, I should date a guy who is at least twenty, which I would never do, because what sort of twenty-year-old would want to date someone still in high school?

It would’ve helped a lot to have someone to talk to during those relationships; someone nonjudgmental and anonymous like the Oracle of Dating would have been perfect. I never laugh at a client’s concerns or get too preachy. I wish I could’ve given myself better advice at the time, but it’s hard to see clearly when you’re emotionally involved.

I decided there was only one solution—to put off dating until college, when the scales of maturity will start to balance. I simply don’t have the emotional resilience to deal with immature high school guys. Which isn’t to say I wouldn’t change my mind if my ideal guy came along, but statistically, it’s highly unlikely.

For those teenage girls who are brave enough to deal with teenage guys, and for anyone else who needs me, the Oracle of Dating is there. I do a lot of research so that I can give sensible advice. When I’m not sure of the answers, I tell my clients the Oracle will have to get back to them so that she can “meditate” on their dilemma. My advice is serious, though I’ve put “for entertainment purposes only” on my Web site so I don’t get sued if some
thing I suggest backfires. With all of this responsibility, I don’t have time for a love life, anyway.

Besides, I’m not the one who needs a man, my sister does. Tracey is ten years older than I am, and has been coming to me for advice since I was twelve, often trusting my guy radar more than her own. She’s even been afraid to introduce certain guys to me because she knows I’ll see what she prefers not to see.

Tracey lives on the Upper East Side—it’s about forty minutes from Brooklyn by subway. I usually meet her in Manhattan on weekends for lattes, which she insists on paying for. (She says it’s fair, considering I don’t charge her for advice.) I’ve also given lots of free advice to her friends. It was actually her best friend, Corinne, who called me the
Oracle
in the first place. After that, the name stuck.

Nothing would make me happier than to find a great match for Tracey. She’s an amazing sister, and never makes me feel like a pain when I call her. She’s kind, hardworking and selfless—sometimes to a fault—and I won’t let her settle for anything less than she deserves. In any other city, she’d have been snatched up by some wonderful guy already, but New York is tricky, since there are far more single women than men, and the dating culture is downright strange. Since she’s twenty-six now, I figure she has another few years of trying to find a good man before I’ll suggest more extreme measures.

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