You Don't Let Prime Real-Estate Sit on the Market

I'll be honest, finding an apartment when The BFF and I first moved to the city was one of the hardest things we've ever had to struggle with. Yes, we've had pretty easy lives, but seriously, the experience was SO painful. I won't bore you with the details (mostly because I'm too lazy right now to adequately describe the horror), but for two weeks, three amazingly generous girls allowed us Texan vagabonds to share the living room futon in their spatially-challenged Greenwich Village apartment.

For fourteen straight days we endlessly scoured Craigslist for anything that would work. After having two almost-signing-the-contract situations fall through, we were desperate to find something suitable. We had a checklist of required apartment specifications and had narrowed down our scope to a few, particular neighborhoods, but other than that, we were pretty open to whatever came our way.

We saw a lot of apartments. I mean a lot. Most were terrible. Like "a ply-wood 'wall' with a hole cut out for the front 'door' separating us from an annoying 18-year-old guy" horrible; like "a creepy stay-at-home chain-smoking creepster roommate" horrible; like "legitimate Craigslist 'wire us some money through MoneyGram' scam" horrible.

So once we found The One, we did not let it out of our sight. It had everything we wanted - good location, beautifully remodeled features, A DISHWASHER! It was love at first freaking sight. Yes, there were a few things that could have been better, but it didn't matter - we wanted it.


When you find something you've been searching for and realize it's everything you need - maybe even surprising you with hidden charms like courtyards visible from both sides of the apartment! - you lock it down. We knew that we couldn't let this one get away; we couldn't bear to live without it.

So after meeting a guy and dating for long enough to get a good sense of one another (the initial "getting to know each other" stage of dating obviously requires more time than judging an apartment - think a couple of months not days) and, if nothing has moved forward in terms of commitment (e.g. more frequent communication/hanging out/inclusion in activities/The Talk), I begin to realize that I'm not what they're looking for.

The longer a piece of property (i.e. a potential relationship) sits on the market without so much as a contract negotiation, the more likely it will decline in value. My mother is a realtor so I know what I'm talking about.

If you're really interested and truly wanted it, you wouldn't risk losing it. You sign the lease (or you buy it! Although I'm clearly nowhere near THAT kind of commitment, metaphorically or otherwise).

You're not willing to commit to me? To jump through some hoops to get me off the market? Sorry ... Snooze = lose.

How Much Does a Polar Bear Weigh?

The inspiration for my latest date-meeting scheme started this summer with one decent looking guy who I would pass on the street each morning – him just getting off the subway, me hopping on to head uptown to work. We started seeing each other so regularly and catching eye contact that we both began to give slight acknowledgements to one another. I saw him recently for the first time in awhile. Minor look of familiarity. All is not lost, but doubtful anything will ever come from it.

I hadn’t seen him for awhile because I had to tweak my work schedule, leaving a little earlier than before. My Park Ave friend was replaced by a couple of interchangeable, cute guys in suits who all ride in the same car I specifically wait for each morning. For those of you have never experienced commuting via subway, you should know that it is a great day when autopilot takes over and you instinctively begin to line up to wait for the subway car that will let you off directly in front of your final destination’s exit.

Almost every day – depending on the time I left – I began to recognize the same guys, all of whom could potentially be The One. Okay, maybe that is a tad dramatic, but based solely on shallow first impressions, they all look like guys I would go out with. I mean, yeah sure it’s a long-shot to meet a guy on the street – or in this case underground – but so is meeting someone at a bar. But much like my Park Ave friend, there has never been an opportunity to break the ice.

This is when it hit me. I just need a purse full of cards to pass out to hot guys. Kind of like business cards, but not. While some people do hand out their business cards to strangers (e.g. FH 2.0), I know the IT guys at work, and I would rather not have "hey random girl on the street, thanks for picking me up" emails stored on the server. Plus, if my recipients are taken or are not interested, having my full name and place of employment makes things muy awkward, in my opinion.

What I need is an icebreaker card – a card with my name and email address. Just like an online dating profile. And maybe a funny joke or something. You know, to break the ice.

It’s like guerrilla marketing meets matchmaking – two strangers connecting. What would be the harm in that? I live in a city of millions of eligible bachelors, yet how come it seems like I never meet any of them? I need to expand my dating pool.

And, in the case with my subway boyfriends, I already know we have similar schedules. Dating convenience is something I hold in high regard. We could even be that annoying couple who commutes together ... although for the sake of those around me, I promise to limit my early-morning PDA.

So if society embraces this trend, or if I get ballsy enough to go rogue and print up a batch of these bad boys on my own, maybe the next time I see Park Ave I can casually slip him a card as he walks past ... and we'll see where things go from there.

Who could resist calling me after receiving this?

(front)

(back)

I Heart Halloween

As a holiday, Halloween is very much either a trick or a treat. Those who aren't fans get turned off by the level of stress presented when trying to find a costume. Although holidays that demand locating the perfect gift for that hard-to-buy-for person or involve extended-family interrogation sessions about why you're still single can be stressful too, getting dressed seems to really take it out of some people.

For me, though, I always look forward to Halloween - I love it. My mom, in addition to her unparalleled matchmaking skills, is very creative and was always more than willing to help create inventive costumes. Like the time we dreamed up a homemade gumball machine costume when I was in elementary school. A sheet of clear, pliable plastic sewed into a sort of intertube fitted around my body and filled with small balloons wasn't something every other kid on the block was wearing, that's for sure.

So basically I've been breed to spend far too much time and effort dreaming up costumes. "Oh it's Labor Day? Now I can get to work." Yeah, I might should get a hobby or two?

When you love Halloween and themey get-ups as much as me, what's better than having a boyfriend to dress up too (especially one who cooperates with all of my hilarious ideas)? Nothing. Double treat.

So it was fairly awesome the College BF and I had our first official date at a Halloween party. Less awesome was that I ended up drinking far too much during the pre-party and lasted 30 minutes at the bar before I had to be taken home. Classy. But even though I was a hot mess, he still liked me.

Halloween became "our thing," a marker of how long we'd been together. The following year was one of my favorite couples costumes ever - Fred & Wilma Flintstone. He borrowed his costume from a friend, but with my aversion to most costumes you get out of a plastic bag, I bought a few things from thrift stores and threw together this little number.


We also didn't make it at the bar more than an hour. Seriously, what is my deal? I'm like the little kid who gets too excited, eats all their candy in five minutes and then is sick the rest of the night. Except my candy is booze.

The following year was one of the worst nights of my life - let's just say when the devil throws a tantrum it is NOT pretty. Trick.

Somehow our relationship survived that rough patch, and our final Halloween together he agreed to let me be in charge once again. Since I was sporting my blonde hair and already owned a periwinkle blue dress, I decided that it was time to get back to my Disney roots - I was going to be Cinderella.

Now, a normal girl would make her boyfriend Prince Charming. But clearly I'm not normal. So he was Gus Gus the Mouse. Let that sink in how awesome it was that he agreed to not only go as a rodent, but a fat rodent. He even wore a pillow under his shirt to the bar. What a guy.

And, apparently fourth time's a charm. We were both on good behavior. There was no drama, no going home after 30 minutes. Success. Victory. Treat.

Last year, Ol' Year of the (Slutty) Lobster - my all-time best costume that I spent far too much effort concoting - had not been in vain.
A guy I had talked to at the bar had tracked down my number. And a year later, he's still in my life. Which is more than I can say about any other guy I've dated in the city. Who knows, maybe he'll be around for next year too. We'll see what happens, but at least he's made it this far. Treat.

So even though I'm not getting to plan two costumes this year, I'm holding out hope this Halloween is a great night. And I'm pretty pleased with the costume I've thrown together for myself.

Sexy Julia Child. The legendary author of the book "Mastering the Art of French Kissing." And I just found some hilarious toy plastic cookwear to complete the ensemble. Bon Appétit.

PS - One of my new fav blogs - Do You Fancy Us? - has two adorable costume ideas too! Eloise (my absolute fav book from childhood) and the Lucky Charm's Leprechaun! Love it!

PSx2 - I am obsessed with having a dog. Especially one that will wear hilarious costumes like this:


... or these.
OK I'm done now ...

Poker Face

Casual dating in New York is like playing high stakes poker. If you want to play at the big table, you better have some game. And you won’t be able to stay at the table if you don’t have at least a few cards to play.

You have to have equal if not better hands than the guys you’re dating. They’re professionals. You can’t expect them to go down without a fight, and you better be able to raise the stakes when necessary. If you aren’t seeing anyone else, you will become too available because, let's be honest, he probably is. You will blow your cool and he will know you’re bluffing.

Even though he might be your Ace, if you don't have anything else to compete with, it won’t do you any good. It's hard to win with just one card. You have to have a few other interests to spread out your time. Even if it’s just a couple of twos, keep them in your hand.

The thing is, though, eventually the game gets old after awhile. Unless you’re on the World Series of Poker tour, you realize there is more to life than playing games and trying to have the best hand.

Most of the guys I’ve dated recently seem to be more focused on their game than seeing where things are going with me. They’re players.

And I'm not the kind of girl who can keep up her poker face after awhile. I just get fed up with the games.

On that Bumpy Road to Love

Ella Fitzgerald. Louis Armstrong. Duet. “Can’t take that away from me.” Trumpet. Talent. Soul. Best song ever.

The way you wear your hat
The way you sip your tea
The memory of all that
No they can't take that away from me

The way your smile just beams
The way you sing off key
The way you haunt my dreams
No they can't take that away from me

We may never never meet again, on that bumpy road to love
Still I'll always, always keep the memory of

The way you hold your knife
The way we danced till three
The way you changed my life
No they can't take that away from me

Sometime in early high school I developed a random appreciation for old school jazz and blues. Still love it. And this song. Not only is it beautiful, but the lyrics have always stuck with me.

There have been a few guys who I’ve actually loved. There have been million guys who for a millisecond I thought I loved. There were the guys that matter – who I will remember forever – and there are the guys who no longer exist in my conscious memory. And some are in between.

This song helps identify those that deserve to be in the first category. You never know how things will end up in life until you’re past them. I thought the college boyfriend was The One for years. I loved this song then and would occasionally think that I had already made it past that bumpy road to love.

HA HA, naive.

But looking back now, I’m not sad that it wasn’t the case. It wasn’t meant to be. But the way he wore his hat, the way we danced till three, the way he changed my life, no they can’t take that away from me. Coincidentally tomorrow would have been our five year anniversary.

Every relationship that counts will teach you something. Just because someone wasn't The One doesn't mean you should forget them all together. You shouldn’t block out the memories - they’re not just about him, they’re about you too. About where you were as a person and how you've changed.

Wowza this is deep stuff...maybe this will make up for yesterday's bitchy outta yer league post?

How to Win with a Good Defense

About a million years ago I played basketball and learned a few things:

- Sometimes a good defense is the key to winning - if you put in the effort and hustle at your opponent's end of the court, you can control the game

BUT

- Sometimes you can play with as much heart and dedication as humanly possible and YOU WILL STILL LOSE BECAUSE THE TEAM YOU ARE PLAYING AGAINST IS OUT OF YOUR LEAGUE

So, let's see how these lessons also apply to dating:

A new friend mentioned that a guy she had been seeing earlier in the summer - a fling she thought was dead in the water - had recently texted her right before she left for a work trip. And he continued to text her while she was gone. "Full-court press," she called it. His efforts proved to her that he was still interested. The key is that there had been a mutual interest, and now that he has stepped up his game, she is willing to play.


Full-court press (FCP), as described by ol' Wikipedia, "takes a great deal of effort, but can be an effective tactic." It may payoff. But it may not...

Unfortunately I have found myself in the opposite situation - where FCP action is not welcome - forcing me to play a game I have no interest in being a part of. When it is clear you're not interested in a guy, yet he still thinks he's going to win you over, persistent FCP tactics will force you to school him on on the court. And it ain't gonna be pretty.

Being aggressively pursued - which I don't tend to respond well to in general - is even worse when it's coming from a guy who I thought had picked up on my "we're just friends" vibe. Just because I'm sociable and outgoing does not mean I want to date you. Why is that so hard for some guys to understand?



Texting, emailing, Facebook messaging, and the worst - in-person FCP attempts to lock-down a date - are not going to do you any good if the object of your affection is out of your league. Yes, I realize this sounds bitchy, but let's be honest with ourselves. Everyone has people out of their league - you, me, well maybe not Brad or Angelina, but most people.

When I find myself in this situation, I deter to him. Unless he makes the first move, I'm not going to assume he wants to date me. Or I will casually test the waters to see if I might have a shot. A zone defense lagging in the backcourt. If he's not interested, I will bow out gracefully.

Just pay attention to the signs. If you are getting zero reciprication from someone, then back off. FCP is not going to win you the game.

Pen Pals

For the first ten or so years of our friendship, The BFF and I would spend our summers emailing long correspondences back and forth...and sometimes AIM conversations if one of us was willing to mess up our sleep schedule a little for the eight hour time difference. So I'm cool with having a pen pal. It's even the typical friendship status I now have with most of my close friends who live in other cities and I don't get to see very often, but I still like to know what’s going on in their lives. Gotta love gchat pen pals.


But, you know who I’m really not that into being pen pals with? Guys I’ve dated. Although last year I had a handful of guys who I would email (or FB message or text) back and forth with although there was no real expectation that we’d actually hang out, it was nice to have someone on the bench.

Now, not so much. I just don’t have the patience for it. Like, that’s great we’re communicating and all, but if it’s pretty clear this isn’t going anywhere, then I am not really in the mood to chit chat on the phone or receive random check-in texts. I’m talking to you, Native New Yorker. While he gets cut some slack for being out of the city most of the week due to his typical consultant schedule, he doesn’t tend to make plans in his regular de-brief sessions. So what is the point? You like me enough to complain about your crappy travel schedule, send funny things about your cat or generally be inquisitive about my life, yet you don’t want to give up a Friday night to hang out with me?

Sorry, I have too many other pen pals to keep up with. See ya.

Round Deux? Trois?

The BFF has one, steadfast dating rule: Don’t Ever Date the Same Person Twice.

This was learned the hard way in college by her falling for the same undeserving fool on two separate occasions. It is fine, though, because she now has the upper hand. Victory.


Anyway, she loves to remind me of this whenever I reconsider giving a guy a second chance. She also loves to educate me on the other wisdom she garnered while I was off busy being lame and faux-married in college. Let’s be honest, we’ve basically reversed roles. Now is her chance to pay me back for having to tolerate her woe is me behavior from freshman year.

So her advice rests on the fairly sound principle that if it didn’t work out the first time then it wasn’t meant to be. However, I’m starting to rethink this logic.

Especially in New York where people are groomed to hide behind strategically crafted dating personas, rarely do you get a real glimpse of someone’s true colors right off the bat. I’ve met guys who I thought were great, but turns out they weren’t. I’ve also met guys who I took longer to realize their greatness.

The same can also be said for chemistry. For me, a deeper connection – an honest, revealing friendship – is necessary for long-term commitment. However, I am the queen of putting walls up. Apparently. The version of me that you get to know while having dinner every week or two is not the version you will get to know day in and day out. It’s the Cliffsnote’s guide to me at my best. Unless I’ve had a few too many cocktails and then it might just might turn out to be a classic episode of Awkward Rachel Goes on a Date.

Change of heart is another reason to reconsider giving someone a second chance. A friend recently mentioned that a guy she had gone out with a few months ago texted her out of the blue. Going into the evening with a We’re Just Friends mentality led her to be fairly surprised when he straight up asked her if she was dating anyone else and made it clear that he wanted to pursue a relationship with her. This was coming from a guy she had totally written off for his inability to commit.

So who knows what the best advice is. I clearly don’t have a sweet clue. I don’t know what I want tomorrow, much less a month or two down the road.

But if someone is willing to pursue a second chance with enough effort and motivation that it seems genuine, then who the hell knows. Maybe it’s worth giving it a shot.

Best case scenario you’re both ready this time around to make it work.

Worst case scenario, you too can be a subscriber to The BFF’s #1 rule and warn your friends when they open that door a second (or third or fourth) time.

Wah Wah

So let’s be honest, I’m in a rut. I’m sorry, did you not get the Evite to my pity party? It’s themed (duh I love theme parties) - Debbie Downer.

I won't get into most of my lame issues, but basically trying to determine what will make me happy when the universe – or really the recession - is making it borderline impossible is throwing my life out of whack. But I am in no mood to wax poetic about depressing recession trends. That’s what The New York Times is for.

Anyway, as I attempt to determine What I Want to be When I Grow Up, dating and interviewing are getting to be a little too competitive in their demand for my patience. Let’s be honest, patience is not a virtue I am known for.

Here is my basic thought process for figuring out my next career move:

1) Determine what I’m looking for and what will make me happy – do I go after good job that I’m more attracted to the salary/status, or the job that will leave me even poorer but will fulfill a deeper satisfaction?

2) Throw away list from #1 and realize there are no F-ing jobs. Peruse Craigslist for ANYTHING that MIGHT be a potential option.

3) Stumble upon an Aladdin post (diamond in the rough, this is a good reference I promise) and tweak my resume to fit my new target.

4) Pray that they give me the time of day. Get an email scheduling interview!!

5) Schedule interview for next week. Get so excited that other job searches get put on hold.

6) Have interview, hold breath that they love me. This is it!!

7) Wait to hear back. I thought they liked me? I thought we connected?!

8) Back to square one.

See, fairly exhausting – both physically and mentally.

Now compare to dating:

1) Determine what I’m looking for – do I go for the hot guy whose personality I’m not really feeling, or the cute guy who I connect with on a deeper level?

2) Realize this is New York, and beggers can't be choosers. Accept date from any decent guy interested - but not the weird cab driver who told me I’d be alone for a long time and offered for me to spend the night. Ew.

3) Do my best to act slightly charming around potential dates and give out my phone number.

4) OMG he called me!

5) Schedule date for next week. Over-analyze and plan potential perfect match.

6) Go on date, he could be The One! Had a great time!

7) Seemed interested but no specific next date plans. Or maybe another date or two. But eventually it falls off the radar.

8) Back to square one.

My patience is stretched too thin to follow the same agonizingly tedious pattern in both areas of my life, and my professional life needs to be the main focus. Also the dating roster is bleak, and I’m too lazy to go scouting. Wah wah.

Mixed Signals

I love walking. I walk for speed. I don’t like to slow down unless I have to. Walk signals are suggestions rather than steadfast rules. But with that mindset, you have to pay attention.

Are you going to hit me, cabbie? Maybe. Don’t ever think no, just to be safe. It’s a little like a game of chicken. Both sides bluffing to see who will give way.

It’s fine – it’s a give and take relationship. Sometimes I may dart in front of your car if the red hand has just finished blinking (a few seconds ago); sometimes I’ll cut you some slack if I see the light turning yellow, and you’re determined to make it through the intersection.

The thing that really pisses me off though? Mixed signals.

Some drivers put on their blinkers pretending to turn and then change their minds while plowing through the intersection. You assume they’re doing one thing, then they make an instantaneous decision midway through and totally change course. Most likely having taken advantage of the opportunity to walk like a good New Yorker, you are now almost roadkill.

The opposite – when cars have on their blinkers, giving you the idea they’re continuing on their path and causing you to pause at the intersection, only to turn at the last second – is also aggravating. Couldn’t have given me a little heads up, buddy? You just wasted three valuable seconds of my life.

You know who else pulls moves like this? Wasting your time, or potentially recklessly risking your life because they didn’t think it was imperative to correctly use their signals?


Guys.

You’re getting one signal – an obvious blinking light signal – and then he goes and does something totally the opposite.

Do you want to date me? Are you turning right?

Make up your mind. Don’t waste my time.

Speaking of Wingman - Match.Mom Update

Since my youngest brother took my car with him to college, I was sans wheels while I was home. Totally fine since I enjoy being chauffeured around by my mommy. Anyway, while running errands one day we stopped by a coffee shop where she had wanted to get a gift certificate for a colleague. There happened to be a fairly attractive guy eating lunch there, who allegedly, according to my mom, was “checking me out.”

Mom: Go talk to him.
Me: What? Who?
Mom: That guy over there.
Me: Uh no? I’m not going to try and pick up some stranger with my mom.
Mom: I dare you.
Me: Seriously?
Mom: Double dare you.
Me: You’re not my wingman!!!
Mom: What if he’s your soulmate??
Me: Well clearly I am dying alone then.

This is my life.

Wanted: The Perfect Wing(wo)man

Okay before I even get started, I get it, we’re women. But I don’t love the phrase ‘wingwoman’ - I like wingman, and I don’t really consider it gender specific. So yeah, we’re sticking with wingman.

I think it’s safe to say only a select few people can pull off the random solo pick-ups, especially out at night. To do it well, a person needs to have a certain amount of charismatic chemistry and air of not really giving a shit. I am not one of those people.

I’m totally independent and self-sufficient in most areas of my life, but when it comes to going out to meet guys, I’m sorry I’m not doing that alone. Unfortunately, I don’t have enough go-to wingmen on the roster. And it is really stifling my social life.

Awhile ago I talked about the importance of building a strong dating roster. The same is true for wingmen. Unfortunately for me, most of my close friends in the city have boyfriends. Yes I know how incredibly selfish that is to say, but let's just be honest - having a boyfriend makes you lame (except, when you’re the one with the boyfriend, you’re not lame, you’re happy). I’m allowed to say it, though, because in college, when I had a bevy of great single friends to go out with, I was the one with the boyfriend. And I was la-me.

FML.

It’s not that I mind staying in sometimes – I am the queen of lazy. But when a night comes around that I would love to get all dolled up and flirt with some boys - and I can’t find one friend to go with – that’s sad.

The BFF, when she’s not with her BFJO (FJO boyfriend) or acting like a super lame grandma (this is meant as no offense to my actually very awesome grandma!), can make a pretty good wingman. Except that she is automatically judgmental of all guys I meet. Whenever I (hopefully) get proposed to someday, the guy better be smart enough to ask my parents AND The BFF for permission.

My other friends in the city do a good job serving the position when they can. But I need a go-to, single wingman with similar dating interests. And no, I’m definitely not going to do anything as creepy as this guy (I just have to say I do not understand the concept of a guy with a girl wingman. Why would a girl hit on a guy if he was with a girl? The logic doesn’t really register with me).

Unfortunately it’s pretty hard to make girl friends in the city. The only thing harder is meeting platonic guy friends – I have long since given up on that. Occasionally I will see girls at the gym, shopping or even on the subway and I think to myself, “She is cute, I love that [insert object I might like]! I bet we could be friends!” But how do you follow through?

So here is my plea:

Wanted: Wingman
Qualifications: Dating objectives align with MPD, enjoys getting dressed up to go out in MPD, thinks I’m funny, not totally wild/crazy but likes to have a good time, not socially awkward but enough awkward that we get along
Start date: Immediately
Compensation: I will provide the pre-game drinks

Please send cover letter and resume in the body of an email. No attachments!

You Went to Harvard, You Should Know Better

I am not against online dating. I actually think I would be better at it, maybe? I’m more articulate written than I am in person because I am able to self-edit. “OMG this is her edited? Dear Lord she must be so awkward in real life,” is what I imagine those of you who don’t know me are probably saying to yourselves right now... So true.

In addition to how I am able to present myself, I also like the fact that you can basically choose exactly what you’re looking for. You immediately know if a guy has sucky taste in music, is not photogenic, has no sense of humor, etc. Time saver. I like. Although between my skepticism of who I would meet and my crippling laziness I still have yet to actually try it.

But this isn't really about online dating.

This is about how Facebook is not a dating tool! In my opinion (IMO) it is socially unacceptable to “friend” someone you do not know because you think he/she is good looking.

Normally if some Random friends me – for example:

Some guy who lives in OKLAHOMA (the mortal enemy state of Longhorns – what time is it?? OU still sucks … and will in two weeks!), who is MARRIED and ultra-conservative.

Decline.

There is no reason we need to be friends.

Or, off topic, I don't need to be friends with a guy from high school’s baby who has a profile and has asked me to be his friend approximately 100 times. No, baby, I don’t want some toddler I have not or will not ever meet to be my friend. I am sorry. I think it’s weird for babies to be on Facebook.

Anyway, unfortunately one Random has recently slipped by my screening process. He was from New York, we had a friend in common and his generic name looked familiar. Accept.

Now I’ve received two messages in two days:

“Hey there where in the city are you! Can o text you?”

“Hey there sexy, thanks for the add! Great profile. Where in the city arey ou?”

As much as I appreciate his geographic curiosity as it is clearly of high importance to me, Scott, “Brand New to Face Book!” as his personal tagline boasts, is going to need to learn a thing or two about FB social guidelines.

His behavior is not acceptable. Nor is the fact that of his 270 friends, 90% of them are attractive females from across the country.

Facebook friending is not like collecting baseball cards. You can’t just go around creating an anthology of pretty girls. That is muy creepy.

Ugh Facebook just became the new MySpace.

And he went to Harvard. Seriously? Did Zuckerberg not teach him anything?