The Doctor Is In
For every dating mistake, there is a lesson to learn.
public speaking time to discussing the
drug rohipnol, commonly known as the
date rape drug. "Within 15 minutes, it
causes whoever ingests it horrible stom-
he older you are when you
ach cramping, loss of the ability to use
marry, the better the chance
arms and legs, and also total memory
that the union will last.
loss. If you're not tested within four
"Because by that time [older
hours, it leaves the bloodstream, so it's
than 24], you've probably weeded out
almost a non-prosecutable drug," Cole-
what you do and don't like and you
man said. "Most think it's a
have a much firmer control
"chick" drug, but men are
on the qualities you seek in
dropping it in other men's
someone else."
drinks while they're on a
At least that's the per-
date with someone, knock-
spective of David Coleman
ing that guy out, then tak-
who offered dating tips
ing his date home."
recently to a crowd in Ypsi-
In addition to offering
lanti. Known as "The Dat-
constructive advice, Cole-
ing Doctor," Coleman runs
man jokes around a lot,
his own entertainment firm
too. For example, "Why
in Cincinnati, after work-
should
someone cheat on
ing in higher education for
you
four
times?" "Because
13 years. His recent book,
David Coleman
you
let
them."
And, he
101 Great Dates, has
talks
about
"categories
of
ascended several best-seller
bad kissers." The "classic categories"
lists, and he writes a weekly syndicated
include:
column on relationships.
The cadavers — you kiss them, they
Coleman has lots of little tidbits that
don't kiss back.
shed some light on the confusing world
The sloths — really slow and labor-
of dating.
ing
kissers, won't alter their speed.
Dating mistakes most certainly have
The
octopi — once you begin kiss-
something to do with what we saw at
ing
them,
you swear they've grown eight
home, growing up, Coleman said. "This
arms,
hands
all over your body.
generation of folks has grown up think-
Deer
in
headlights
— you're passion-
ing that relationships are disposable,
ately kissing them, thinking you're hav-
from watching their own parents get
ing a great time, wondering, are they?
divorced, or neighbors or parents'
You open your eyes to find them staring
friends getting divorced. When you
back at you.
were young, if a pet died, within 48
also talk about why men don't call
hours your parents would get a new
back,
and why women go to the bath-
one. [Remember the phrase], 'oh, there
room
in
packs," he said.
are plenty of other fish in the sea?' We
Men
follow
the "49-71 hour law: If a
never review or evaluate why our rela-
guy
calls
back
within
48 hours, it's too
tionships fail. We just replace them."
fast, gives the woman the upper hand,"
So what does the Dating Doctor sug-
he explained. "If he waits until after 72
gest? First, change your mindset. "In life
hours, it's rude. So he has from 49 to 71
we follow our most predominant
hours to call."
thought, so if I were to say the word
Sometimes they don't call because,
`relationship,' and your comment back
quite
frankly, they "lost the number."
to me is 'that's a positive thought to
No,
really.
Coleman said men either lose
me,' then you'll go into your next rela-
the
scrap
of
paper, write down a num-
tionship thinking it's a positive thing. If
ber
without
a
name and forget who it's
the past few have been so bad, you will
for,
or
empty
their pockets when they
go into that relationship projecting your
do laundry and throw it away.
baggage from last ones onto that one
And why do women go to the
and not give it much of a chance."
bathroom together? "To analyze each
Coleman has devoted more of his
other's dates, talk about the men
they're with. They also go in there to
David Coleman will be contributing a
call the men they actually wish they
monthly column full of dating advice to
were out with." 0
The Scene.
LYNNE MEREDITH COHN
Scene Editor
T
5/15
1998
84
A Night In The Life
Of A Barmaid
Sometimes, a twentysomething professional career
isn't enough to pay all the bills. Here's what one
young adult does to make ends meet.
SANDY E. ROCKIND
Special to The Jewish News
is
very Saturday night I
squeeze into my shortest
shorts, slather on coats of
lipstick and head to the
bar, where people wait in line to
have fun and drink away their wor-
ries. But I'm not there to dance and
flirt and socialize with other bar-
goers; I'm there to wait on them.
I'm a University of Michigan
graduate and full-time marketing
professional. I grew up in West
Bloomfield and have high aspira-
tions; in fact, one of the main rea-
sons I took the job at JD's Key Club,
a dueling piano bar in Pontiac, was
to be able to afford graduate school
classes. Not your typical barmaid,
eh?
When I started waiting
tables at JD's, I figured I
would go to the bar once a
week, meet new people,
have fun, and get paid to
do it. Instead, I go to the
bar once a week to shlep
drinks and take orders
from strangers.
Plenty of twen-
tysomethings grew up
in comfortable sub-
urbs, with the hope
that a college degree
and several internships
would lead to the
same level of comfort,
post-college. But that's
not necessarily the case.
Working this job can be
amusing at times — like when cus-
tomers assume I can't count change
correctly, or when drunk patrons
climb on stage and lay suggestively
across the piano, or when hordes of
guys who hit on me each night
assume I'll give them my number
simply because, as a waitress, I have
no standards.
Clearly, it can be frustrating. I try
not to think of my friends who are
on the other side of the bar, having
fun without me, or the great new
guy who I couldn't go out with
because I had to work. Some friends
virtually ignore me when they come
to JD's as patrons, because they're
embarrassed to be associated with a
waitress. And when I see customers
stumbling out of the bar, I cringe,
knowing hours of clean-up await me,
before I can go home.
Then there are my co-workers
who barely know a thing about me
but think I'm spoiled because I work
only one night. In a way, they're a lot
like my customers: They just assume
I'm uneducated, have children
(regardless of my marital status), and
will wait tables until I'm too old to
wear shorts.
As soon as I step inside the bar, I
am transformed. No longer am I the
university graduate, grad school stu-
dent two nights a week, or full-time
marketing specialist. I am no longer
the hip, educated woman I have
worked hard to become. I let my
English slide. I do "good" instead of
"well." I relax because I know noth-
ing is expected of me, short of deliv-
ering beer and popcorn.
With 30 customers clamoring for
drinks, I overload my tray with bot-
tles of beer, pints
of draft, glasses of
wine, Long Island__,
ice teas, Jack and
Cokes, and glasses of
water, and wish I
was Moses, parting
the sea of people
41.111111f ahead of me. As I pro-
pel forward, a girl in
flared pants and platform shoes
thinks I push her and shoves me
back. My tray flies out of my grasp
seems momentarily suspended in
mid-air, then crashes to the floor,
splashing liquor over a crowd of peo-
ple. By midnight, I have danced and
swayed with more drunk men than I
care to admit.
I hear "two song warnings" in my