S recently wrote about How About We. Coincidentally, while she was deciding HAW wasn’t worth paying for, I was handing over my credit card info for a trial membership.

Though I’m going to wait a little while longer to give you fine folks my in-depth review, here are some of my initial thoughts:

• I love anything that speeds up the process of planning a real live date instead of becoming pen pals first.
• I enjoy the question prompts that make up each person’s profile (e.g., obscure knowledge I possess, I secretly want to be, my first concert/my dream concert). They are a gold mine of hilarious.
  
• Getting  breakfast is a more popular idea than I care for it to be:

Look, no one loves breakfast food more than I do. And don’t think I wasn’t seriously charmed by the mention of Zaftigs, the best damn brunch this side of the Charles (well played sir). But I am at my least charming in the morning. Not even the late breakfast suggestion would be a good idea for me to say yes to. Unless, of course, you find the following behavior endearing: scowling, demands for silence, and an alarming amount of hatred for everything. This icy demeanor doesn’t begin to thaw until 10 a.m. (at the earliest). If that’s attractive to you, breakfast sounds lovely! Otherwise, I’m out.

The only guy to get it right is this one:

Breakfast for dinner is one of my favorite pastimes. Not to mention that I grew up in New York – the tri-state area has a deep love affair with diners, so I’m something of a diner connoisseur. In fact, my family used to own a diner (my father’s hash-browns are unparallelled). And we’re Greek, thus fulfilling one of my favorite stereotypes of all time. THIS is my kind of date.

• HAW is obsessed with showing me dates in Florida, mingled in with all the dates around greater Boston. Case in point: that running/breakfast date above (which ha – NO. The only time I voluntarily run is during my summer co-ed softball games where I’m rewarded with the occasional boost in my stats and a cold beer, or when there’s a spider nearby). I’m willing to broaden my geographical horizons a bit, but Florida is not going to happen. 1) I am a northeast weather person – I thrive in the cold weather. Without a hint of sarcasm, I can tell you that I was elated to pull my gloves and hats out of storage last night, and lovingly sorted them and put them all on. 2) I am not barred in Florida, and the only way I would suffer through another bar exam is with the promise my school loans would be paid in full immediately upon completion of the exam, the offer of which is unlikely to come my way. 3) I LIVE 1,300 MILES AWAY.
• This little morsel of awesome that arrived in my inbox:

Be Still. My. Heart. Nothing brings two people together like rodents, firearms, and trash! I’m even the one co-blogger who is not anti-gun, but I just can’t get behind any part of this date idea – for a first date or a 147th date. Everything about this date is terrifying. If you want hunting to be the theme of the date, there’s no need to head out to the wilderness city limits. I’m a sucker for fresh venison – all you have to do is invite me over for dinner and regale me with the tale of how you came upon such delicious bounty. (Sidenote: my aforementioned morning disposition is the main reason my father and brother have refused to take me hunting with them – they claim the last thing I should have in my hands in the morning is a rifle (they’re probably not wrong). Thus I continue to rely on the good shots of others to satisfy my venison cravings. Offering up some venison is actually a great way to win my heart, come to think of it. If you know any single, prolific hunters out there: stucublog@gmail.com – use it!). Rats don’t need to be involved at all.

On second thought, the above date would allow me to add to my conversational repertoire when it comes to rats, a favorite topic of mine apparently, so maybe I shouldn’t be so dismissive…?