Guys, this really weird thing happened where I went on a date last night, had a nice time, and then I heard from him TODAY. Not a week later, not EXACTLY 3 days later, not by accident because he meant to text a different Emily, not the next time he was drunk/stoned/watching porn. The NEXT day. Sober. While the sun was still up.
What do you think that means?
Oh, that he’s a mature 30-something male in Manhattan?
Well. This is new.
Oh. Real = sit on my face? Glad we cleared that up.
Oh….no.
You’re still a young single guy with a cat. 
I clicked yes because there’s something very comforting about knowing exactly how you’re going to die.
Possibly too harsh a response but I am in NO mood this week, Brian.
Weirdly the conversation ended there.
(Continuation of Last Night’s Date, Part 3 )
Wait NOW he thinks we’re still in a conversation?
Somebody get this guy a manual.
I didn’t think this lesson needed to be explicitly taught, but when one of my smartest friends fell into this trap, I knew I must use this public forum to do all the ladies a favor and make this very clear.
(The first 5 texts– the smaller text bubbles– are a screen shot of a starting conversation my friend had with a guy from a dating app, which she sent to me). 
Friend, when I told him I have a date coming up with a guy who has the same name as a character on Friday Night Lights (my fave show of all time) on a FRIDAY night.
Of all the fan e-mails I’ve gotten (and there are TONS, if “tons” means the same thing as “eight”) this is by FAR my favorite:
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