Dategirl in Hardcover: How Not to Date

Being a tad humor-impaired, Father Hermley wasn't a bit amused by my toddler high jinks and gravely diagnosed me as "a very negative person." As I was only 4, I had no idea what this meant, but I could tell by the grimace on my mortified mom's face that whatever it was, it wasn't good.

And so, for the rest of her life, whenever we got into an argument—and there were puh-lenty of those—her closing zinger would be a hissed "Father Hermley was right!"

As it turns out, he was. Despite reading countless how-to books, I've always found learning by negative example to be a far more effective (not to mention entertaining) method. I'm not the only one. For example, you can tell a child not to touch the stove, but let little Johnny go ahead and fondle that burner, and you'll never have to waste another breath on the topic. Of course there may be an emergency room visit in your future, but this book is about dating. If you are experiencing medical emergencies during your dates, you probably need more than a book.

Using the same logic, you can advise that a person refrain from dating a 35-year-old alcoholic who lives on his grandmother's cat hair–coated sofa, but wouldn't Grandma walking in on the two of you experimenting with female ejaculation be a far more effective deterrent? See where I'm going here?

During my seven-plus-year tenure as a sex and love advice columnist—the majority of which I spent single—I've either experienced firsthand or read about dates so heinous, it's truly a wonder my vagina didn't seal itself shut. There were dark days when dating seemed like a minefield—round every corner lurked some emotional terrorist, waiting to break my heart and stiff me with the check. After a lot of missteps and mistakes, I eventually learned to navigate what I hesitantly call the dating game with varying degrees of success.

And sure, while other so-called sexperts might have things like degrees to prove they're qualified for the job, I have something more valuable—something hard-won and not necessarily pleasant. What I'm talking about is experience. Do you think Dr. Phil ever watched as a crush hit on his friend? Pffft...I think not. But look at Dear Abby and Ann Landers—two advice-doling sisters with zero in the way of professional qualifications, who went years without speaking to each other. Much like myself, those two embraced their dysfunction and used it to help others.

It wasn't like I set out to date weirdos and lowlifes exclusively, but for a while it sure seemed that way. Friends and family lost countless hours of sleep fretting over me and wondering when and where the freak magnet had been implanted. I could be dropped into a room packed with nothing but perfectly sane men with jobs, and I would gravitate toward the one guy everyone else was trying to avoid: the unemployed know-it-all with the chronic case of psoriasis and a highly unsavory yen for his little sister (in his defense, she was a half-sister).

So yes, maybe instead of field research, I should've parlayed my criminology B.A. into a Ph.D. at some prestigious university, but who are you going to feel more comfortable taking advice from—some married lady with an office and a framed piece of paper, or a dame who's been floundering about in the dating pool for years?

See, I thought so!

The Do-Not-Call List, or, Who Not to Date

To help weed out the guaranteed dating disasters, I've concocted a list of potential dates guaranteed to be more trouble than they're worth:

• Your friend's ex. Remember on 90210 when Brenda found out Dylan was putting it to her best bud, Kelly? Ugly, right? Unless you have received written permission from your pal, your friend's ex is off-limits. Even if your friend is OK with it, it's guaranteed that the specter of your friend will loom large on this outing, and everyone knows that three's a crowd. (Unless you're polyamorous, but I'm keeping things simple here.) It's bad enough hearing about exes you don't know—do you really want to discover that your yoga partner can only reach orgasm by being manipulated "down there" with a bottle cap?