There has probably never been a guy that I did not want to go out with as much as I did not want to go out with Mr. Needs Tough Love.

Midway through a surprisingly pleasant brunch at Fred’s , when he complained about my initial disinterest (I told him I did not think we were compatible in a brief phone chat), I let him have it. 

''First of all, you have one far away photo in your profile which leads me to assume that you are unattractive. Also, your profile is skimpy. You don’t even mention what you are looking for in a partner. It doesn’t seem like you are interested in something serious.''

He tried to interrupt with a counter-argument, but I was all fired up and cut him off:

''In the little that you did write, you included that you aren’t the type to sit on a towel for hours on the beach and mentioned ESPN as your favorite thing to watch. You came across as a huge jock. I’d be ecstatic to hangout on a beach all day and prefer more metrosexual, cultured, artsy kind of guys.You work in finance. And, you are 10 years older than me.''

''But I’m really not a jock, and I like my profile. I don’t want it to be serious. I like things to happen organically and prefer to just meet anyone in person and see what happens.''

You would not want to just meet anyone if this was your 52nd date in six months.

''Well, you are portraying yourself like a jock, and I don’t want to meet anyone unless I am intrigued by what they write or say on the phone. To top it off, you were ridiculously sarcastic,'' I replied.

''I just have fun and I am playful with my sarcasm via text,'' he said.

''Well, there’s a fine line between sarcasm and being an asshole.'' 

And I am aware of it, thanks to Mr. Sarcastic Pants.

As out debate continued, it was clear that he liked me and my brutal honesty:

''I have to say you are a lot smarter than I thought. I’ve went out with a matchmaker that was a dating disaster, but you, I don’t worry about you.''

Gee, thanks.

On the walk back home, we passed an apartment with a bunch of books on the porch and a sign that said ''Take one.'' I suggested we look through them.

I chose Daniel Gilbert’s Stumbling On Happiness,which is ironically about the human ability (or lack thereof) to predict what actually makes them happy.

Of course a date with Mr. Needs Some Tough Love was the last thing in the world that I thought would make me happy.

But as we hugged goodbye, I realized I was feeling pretty damn happy.

Maybe I did even go out with him again. Was it because I was still fired up from letting him 'have it'?

Have you ever found happiness with someone you least expected?

Do you think people can predict who will make them happy in their love life?

What do you think?

3six5dates interviews New York's dating anthropologist and relationships writer Ms. Melissa Braverman. Melissa blogs about her dating discoveries at SingleGalNYC.com.

Melissa has been quoted in such outlets as The Associated Press, The New York Post and The Wall Street Journal. She works as a lifestyle publicist and is currently at work on a memoir about her dating travels across the U.S.

She has conducted two of her very own 'date-athons':

1. ‘The Great Dating Blitz’ - an 8-week, 8-city dating tour of the U.S.

2. ‘European Dating Blitz’ - exploring the dating habits in European countries.

Listen to Melissa's interview.

To follow Melissa's latest "Nominate A Date" adventure: a two-month adventure inviting people to play Cupid and set her up on a series of blind dates, please visit: http://youtu.be/KRYAYOeoN7s

Find out what advice she has for those dating in and outside of the Big Apple.

Listen to Melissa's interview.

Are you living and dating in NYC also?

What are your own dating experiences in the Big Apple?

Can you relate to Melissa's stories?

What do you think?

So this is my first date in 10 years with someone other than my ex. 

I have known Mr. Muscles for about 15 years. He was and still is the local boy that all the girls perved on.

I decided to ask him out on Facebook as I figured we had been chatting on Facebook on a fairly regular basis.

He said yes (thank God) and then I started to panic.

WTF do I wear?

We decided to have drinks at the The Ivy Pool, which for all those outside of Sydney is the super trendy rich kids playground.

I arrived an hour before him to:

1. suss out the venue, and
2. to socially lubricate myself with the free drinks on offer.

Mr. Muscles arrives by catwalking his way over to me.

His swagger is well choreographed and rehearsed. He is Tom Cruise cool before the Oprah (link) couch jumping incident.

And he was very comfortable with me and looked into my eyes when he talked…

Which I love.

The only problem was that he kept talking about himself and told me how a group of young girls had booked personal training sessions with him to ultimately perve on his muscles and get stretched out by him.

I smile and nod in between pauses and can not help but tune out and roll my invisible eyes on the inside of head.

He finally stopped talking to gently lay down on the beach cushions to check out all the bikini clad cocktail waitresses and guests around the pool, only getting up to inform me of what he rates every girl out of ten.

Shit, I wonder what he rates me?

He spotted his friends at the bar and told me he will be right back. After strutting his muscles around the pool for the greatest distance possible, he greets his friends with high-fives and lows, orders drinks and sits down with them.

I take this as my cue to leave.

As I walked to my car, I could not help but wonder why the heck I would meet him at The Ivy Pool - the biggest ‘meat market’ in Sydney.

Was I testing him already? Is that entrapment? 

I then realized I have been out of the game for wayyyyyyyyyyyy too long, but all things considered, Mr. Muscles was a great way to get my feet wet.

How do I get my 'groove' back after so many years in 'retirement' mode?

Do you have any hard and fast tips on what not to do when getting back into the dating game?  

What do you think?

My first impression of Mr. Gobbler was pretty good: he was refined and sophisticated, his hair was nicely combed, his beard was close-shaven, and his shirt fit well. When he talked he sounded confident and knew what he was talking about.

But he surprised me when the first dish was served.

I have not seen anyone eat like that before. His mouth was always stuffed and he never stopped chewing.

He’s so loud, I can actually hear him slobbering.

I was disgustedly amazed. I simply could not move my eyes away from him, as though I was mesmerized.

When the two starters and main dish were nearly consumed, he looked up at me and asked, ''You don't like the food here?''

''Errr... It’s... it’s good.'' I lied. I was not eating. ''You didn’t have lunch, huh?''

''Oooooh. I had lunch. A big and delicious one!'' As he finished the last piece of chicken on the table.

While waiting for more dishes to come, he put down his chopsticks and wiped his mouth gently.

All of sudden, he went back to being the sophisticated man.

Then he gazed at me with a meaningful smile and said, ''I know what you are thinking. You think I am disgusting when I eat.''

At first, I was going to deny it but then thought ''What’s the point?'' So I nodded.

''Every girl thinks so. Well, almost. But hey, this is me! This is the only way I can enjoy eating. Sure, I can try to hide it for a few dates at the beginning - which I used to do - but then I thought ‘what’s the difference if they find out on the first date or on the fifth date?’ If they can’t accept it, they are still going to leave. Right?''

He did not seem embarrassed.

Who is this guy?

''Right on the money,” I agreed. ''How do you stay so fit?''

He shrugged and smiled. ''It’s a gift. Diet is something I never need to worry about.''

''Well in that case, I guess you really should take advantage of this gift.''

Then we laughed.

Before the rest of the dishes came, we talked about obesity, calories, and exercises. Both of us were pretty sure there would be no second date, but I honestly really liked the way he felt about himself.

Not everyone can handle their ''flaws'' as well as him.

For every dish that followed, I would put a quarter of the food on my plate. While he was gobbling down his, I enjoyed mine at my own pace.

It turned out to be a lovely dinner - other than the slobbering sound.

He was not my type,but I admired him deeply - and I am sure he knew.

What do you think of Mr. Gobbler’s philosophy?

Should we hide our flaws in the beginning? Or let them loose on the first date?

Have you ever met a person who handled their ''flaws'' well?

What do you think?