J, Ruminations

TD Guide: Netflix and Chill

You may wonder why I don’t often write about second dates.

Is it because I’m heartless and use men and then drop them like a hot potato? Sometimes.


Is it because I have the texting-response speed of a elderly sloth, which is generally considered a bad quality? Perhaps.

Is it because all of my second dates end up being ‘Netflix and Chill?’ DING DING DING!


Now, I’m fairly certain that you don’t want to read my attempts at wittily describing the process of selecting a movie that I’m not going to pay attention to (“I’m fine with whatever! No, really, you pick. Nope, haven’t seen that one before! Please stop scrolling!!!”), and then not paying attention to that movie, and then feeling kinda gross and excusing myself to the bathroom to fix my hair and do a quick little search for my dignity while I’m at it. And if you DO want to read that, please revisit this paragraph as often as you would like. My page views will thank you.

This is fine. I’m not up in arms, leading protests* outside the White House, brandishing posters decked out in the following slogans:
“This is not a drill, down with Netflix and Chill!”
“Hide your boobies, watch the movie!”

*Although this IS probably an effective method of achieving my one true dream: to be featured on the DC Snapchat story


But I must ask, readers. What happened to dates? What happened to going out for dinner and/or drinks? What happened to going out to shows**? What happened to picnics? Museum trips? Bowling***?!

**I did recently go to a show at the DC Improv which was awesome! And I’m patiently waiting for my date to write a post about it but he’s busy learning how to be a doctor. I guess that’s pretty important.
***Seriously, though, WHAT HAPPENED TO BOWLING? Nothing like fondling balls to get me in the mood. I sincerely hope that sentence gets me more bowling dates.


Back in my early college days, an invitation to come over and watch a movie made me squeal with glee. “You mean that cute boy I met blackout while dancing on a table at bars actually likes me? It wasn’t just beer goggles?! Yippeeeee!”

Now, these mediocre double entendres elicit what can be best described as “angsty sighs” and “the nostril flare-eye roll maneuver.” Because when I get a text I don’t like, I automatically turn into every mother’s tween nightmare. I’ve been told that it’s charming.


Innumerable scholarly (and not so scholarly, cough Jezebel cough) articles have expressed disdain in the fact that the idea of ‘hookup culture’ has taken over our generation. And yet, what is being done to fix that? The creation of new video streaming sites…? Not helpful. The adoption of new dating apps…? Yeah, definitely a step in the wrong direction. ALL TALK AND NO ACTION, much like the high school version of my love life.

I’m taking a stand, both figuratively and physically (pretty hard to Netflix & Chill when I’m standing, huh?! Take that!). This is my quest. Think of me as Odysseus, but (usually) wearing more clothing, and with a healthier fear of the Gods.

fear me

Say it with me, readers: TAKE BACK THE SECOND DATE.

This whole thing may or may not be a ploy to generate additional blog content even if I don’t make it to a third date.

I’m also really sick of riding the Metro home with sex hair and being judged by hobos. One threw a penny at me a couple weeks ago. I kept it for the #memories <3 .


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