Ive recently tried out an online dating service Ive ...
As a timid guy, that's something I'm kinda lacking... But I have to ask you, what's your definition of self-confidence? How do you recognize it in men? Can you tell whether it's real or faked?
Please excuse my half-assed English; it's my second language.
-JD
Don't apologize for online dating-hell, I've gotten more ass than the Port Authority men's room off it. Internet dating is a godsend for the socially retarded, the incredibly busy and the horribly picky; in short, most New Yorkers. How else would I-a woman who spends most of her life sitting around in her underpants, typing into a computer-have met and gone out with a 12-stepping pot-delivery guy, a vertically challenged actor, a cute Brit hedge-fund something-or-another, an evil herpetic bass player, a foxy microbiologist, a bunch of charming writers, a smattering of uniformly hot filmmakers, a smack-addict screenwriter, a leg-humping financier and a bisexual teacher? Among others? There's no way I would've met this panoply of stud monkeys hanging out in my apartment. So quit worrying about the non-existent stigma of going online to trawl for tail.
Next. Here's the thing. Being a wuss never got anyone laid. Nobody, man or woman, wants to git with a pantywaist. Being timid is a waste of time, so quit it. After a particularly devastating breakup many years back, the Girl of Date retreated into solitude and started considering baggy t-shirts and sweatpants a viable outfit selection. Legs and pits went unshorn, lipstick became a thing of the past and I actually contemplated letting my hair revert to its natural color. (Luckily, I never got that far gone.) I was deathly afraid to speak with anyone who owned a penis, and as a result I was celibate for two years. Fun.
Then I reacquainted myself with an old friend who smacked some sense into me. Jonathan was a musician/DJ/hustler/writer/nutjob who attached himself to my hip for a year or so. He was one of those charismatic, chemistry-experiment-gone-awry guys who attract insanity, violence, celebrities, fun, vice and beautiful women in equal proportion. Going out with him was always a maniacal adventure, because you never knew if you'd be hanging out with rock stars or heroin dealers (or both) or running from the cops by the end of the evening. He was never my boyfriend (or anything close), but counseled me often on the importance of regaining what he termed "my swagger." He was subtle and kind about it-never actually telling me I looked like shit-but always encouraging me to shower and buy new clothes that actually fit instead of cloaked.
The teensiest improvement garnered raves of approval. Being friends with someone like him was often a trial (as those types tend to be extremely high-maintenance), but it helped me gain back some of the self-assurance I'd lost. I suggest you find your own inner Jonathan and work on getting some swagger for yourself.
The secret to confidence is that there's no real difference between having it and faking it. Self-confidence is knowing what you want, thinking you deserve it, and going for it. (Or at least pretending to know what you want, feigning a sense of entitlement and acting like you're going for it.)
One of the biggest mistakes people make is confusing self-assuredness with arrogance. There is a world of difference between confident and cocky-the former is good, the latter extremely irritating. To help navigate these differences, I'm going to provide you with some examples:
Cocky: Plays a tape of his band while he fucks you.
Confident: Doesn't even tell you he's in a band until your second date.
Cocky: Upon kissing you for the first time, informs you that he can tell by the look in your eyes that you're falling deeply in love with him and warns you that he's only going to break your heart.
Confident: Just shuts the hell up and kisses you some more.
Cocky: Advises you that he has a gigantic penis and is an incredible fuck. (The beauty of this one is that he usually sucks ass in the sack. And not in a good way.)
Confident: Just shuts the hell up and fucks you senseless.
You'll note that the biggest difference between the two is that one is a man (or woman) of words, and the other is a man (or woman) of action. Become that Action Man.
Being a foreigner, you have an advantage that many men don't. First off, you have an accent. Chicks dig accents. Plus, the foreignness that is you automatically implies mystery. If you just keep your mouth shut and stare at them with a smoldering look, they'll think you're thinking deep foreign thoughts instead of trying to figure out how to say "beaux seins"* en anglais.
*"nice tits"
Write [dategirl@nypress.com](mailto:dategirl@nypress.com) or Dategirl, c/o New York Press, 333 7th Ave., 14th fl., New York, NY 10001.