I�ll begin by saying that I like a manly man. Fix cars. Kill scary bugs. Mow the grass. Set up my wireless Internet. Toss me over your shoulder, and haul me into your love cave. If you own an iron, it�s because your mom bought it for you, neglecting to remember that you just give things a good shake when they come out from the dryer. If you cook, it had better involve fire and meat.

You get the picture.

That being said, let�s get into this diatribe since saying not to give me flowers, stuffed animals, or poetry is beyond obvious.

First off, if you take out your business card to give it to me, don�t stop, write on the back, and then hand it to me. There is absolutely nothing you can write on the back that won�t make me think that you�re incredibly cheesy. Just don�t do it.

When ordering drinks for us, please don�t order chocolate martinis. It�s worse than ordering an apple martini, and you look completely emasculated when I order gin with a splash of soda. Also, ordering for a woman is not in good form. Ask if I have a preference, and let me order my own drink.

When I ask what your favorite movie is, appropriate answers do not include the following: The English Patient, Bridget Jones�s Diary, Steel Magnolias, When Harry Met Sally, or any other number of movies that can be called Chick Flicks.

Picking a leaf from a tree and telling me that the topiary gift is in lieu of flowers is stupid. I�m not 14; this kind of crap isn�t going to work on me. Also, what do you think I�m going to do with it? Laminate and put it in a fucking scrapbook?

When you grab my hands to hold them over the table while babbling what you believe to be sweet nothings and I let go after a few awkward seconds, take that as a hint that I don�t want to hold hands. Just let me pull them back, and be done with it. There�s no need to re-grab my hands. That�s just weird.

Don�t smoke. Period. Especially don�t do it when I tell you that it makes it so I can�t breathe, that I hate the smell, and that I find it classless. At that point, it makes you an inconsiderate person.

When you disclose that you have a child, and I say that I don�t particularly care for children, this is a good point to wrap up the date. Going on and on about God�s gift to adults is not going to change my mind.

Likewise, going on and on about what a loving and forgiving god we have is not going to make me suddenly think that you are the sort of guy I want to be with. Conversely, it freaks me out that you�re so much of a bible-thumper that you have the audacity to tell a silent and wide-eyed me that if I don�t know the love of God, one day I�ll learn.

Complimenting me on my eyes is all right. However, asking me what color they are immediately afterwards is not.

Complimenting me on ordering and eating a real meal is a bit odd. I understand that you were pleased that I wasn�t a salad-eater or that I merely picked at my food, but damn, you�re gonna compliment me into an eating disorder if I feel like I�m being watched and praised.

When you feel that it�s appropriate to kiss me, a good thing would be to gauge how the date went. Let�s review: I gave you a weird look when you handed me your inscribed business card, ordered gin while you got a frou-frou drink, made fun of you for saying The Notebook was your favorite movie because I thought you were joking, got a little ashen-faced when you handed me a leaf, pulled my hands back from your over-the-table grasp, very vocally said that smoking was a complete turn-off, told you that I dislike kids, sat silently as you talked religion, was visibly taken aback when you asked my eye color while staring right at them in broad daylight, and grimaced when you complimented me on eating my dinner. By all indications that you�ve seen thus far, this is a HORRIBLE time to go in for a kiss. But if you go in for a kiss and I mistake it for you attempting to headbutt my nose, this is EVEN WORSE. But OH HOLY HELL, if I have to worm my arms up my chest to forcibly break the seal that you�ve made while mouth raping me, there is nothing else that you can do to make this date any worse...

Except maybe call me the next day at 9 a.m. to tell me what a wonderful time you had. �