Ok, it's 1:00am and I'm so stressed out and pissed off about work that I can't sleep, so I may as well finish this story. When we last heard from our hero, he'd stupidly arranged a dinner date for Sunday night at 10pm when every restaurant in the city is closed.

"Ok," Joe said. "This isn't a big deal. There's 5 guys here. We're smart enough to work this out. Obviously you're just going to have to cook her dinner."

Now I'm no great chef, but I probably know my way around a kitchen a little better than the average guy. This was not a problem. What was a problem was my apartment.

"Hell, I don't even have a kitchen table at my place," I said. "What am I gonna do, serve her a candle-lit dinner on a tv tray while she's sitting on my dog-chewed couch?"

"How about outside?"

"What about a table?"

"I've got an outdoor bistro table at my place. Come pick it up tomorrow."

And with that, the plan began to form.

I popped out of bed early the next morning and downloaded a recipe for lemon chicken. Grocery list in hand, I drove to the nearest Kroger and bought a package of boneless, skinless chicken breast, a lemon, a whole bunch of herbs and spices that I had never used and probably would never use again, some fresh cut greenbeans, fresh produce to make salad, garlic bread, one cheesecake w/fresh blueberries to use as topping, and a bottle of wine.

After I returned home and put away my groceries, I picked up the bistro table, threw it in my Jeep, and headed out to Home Depot where I bought 4 tikki torches and a container of torch fuel.

I then headed next door to Target where I bought a table cloth, linen napkins, a candle, a picnic blanket, and a 4-pack of wine glasses.

One more trip to a friend's to borrow his CD soundtrack to the movie Swingers, and I was heading home where I set up the table, stuck the tikki torches in a square around it, put out silverware and pitched the blanket somewhere nearby. Then I got to work on the meal.

Fortunately, I had arranged to pick up my date at the restaurant where she worked, which was just around the corner. By some miracle, I timed the meal out so that I was able to just let it simmer while I left.

When Mrs. Hobbes got into my Jeep the first thing she asked was where I was taking her. I just smiled and told her it was a surprise.

We arrived at my apartment, and I told her that I had a few things I needed to take care of, but she could get acquainted with my dog for the next few minutes while she was waiting. This allowed me to run out back, light the tikki torches and candle, fire up the music, and plate the meal.

I took her out back and said that I thought she might appreciate someone waiting on her after spending the night serving tables at a restaraunt. She smiled, looked around, and told me that no one had ever gone to this much trouble for her before.

The dinner turned out better than I could have expected. She seemed impressed enough that I was able to do anything more than make toast. We made some small talk and got to know each other better. She laughed at some of my dumb jokes and told me how the music I had picked was her favorite, which, of course, I knew because I'd already asked her friend, Susan, what she liked.

After dessert I asked my date if she wanted to lie down on the blanket I had set out. Mrs. Hobbes arched an eyebrow at that and said, "I was kind of wondering why you had that lying out there."

"Yeah, it's for romance," I laughed. "Thought you might want to look at the stars or something." I said it in a way, I hoped, that acknowledged the shamelessness of the manuever while preserving some sense that it was a sweet gesture nevertheless.

Mrs. Hobbes agreed, and I just kind of lied there next to her while we talked. I could tell that she was a little nervous by the way she closed her body off to me. We probably stayed like that for a half hour while I tried to figure out how I was going to sneak in a kiss without doing something forced and awkward. She definitely wasn't giving me the go ahead, but I could tell that she liked me well enough.

Finally, I looked over at her and smiled. "You know," I said, "I wouldn't think it too forward of you if you tried to kiss me."

She laughed. "Oh, yeah?"

"Well, you know. If you wanted to. I wouldn't think less of you."

She smiled and said, "I'll think about it." Five minutes later we were in full makeout mode.

So yadda yadda yadda. Monday comes early for the working man. It was getting late and I needed to wrap things up. Thing is, I really wouldn't have minded a sleepover at this point. I thought I might actually have a shot, so I just put it out there matter of factly.

"It's late and I have to work in the morning," I said. You can stay if you want or I can take you home, but one way or another I need to get all this cleaned up and be in bed soon."

Mrs. Hobbes said, "I'll help you clean up."

Well, we cleaned up and afterward she was still just hanging around looking uncomfortable. In no mood for games, I said, "Are you ready for me to take you home?"

"Uhm, I think I'd like to stay."

"Ok."

Game. Set. Match.

I tell this story because a) it is a success story b) it's how I met the love of my life and c) it illustrates what I think are some important dating concepts.

Let's take a look at what I did wrong, first:

The excessive drinking at the music festival definitely was a mistake. In fact, I found out later that it was the cause of Mrs. Hobbes' lack of response to my flirting. Turns out she wasn't even aware that I was hitting on her. She just thought I was drunk and being talkative and friendly.

But it's more serious than this, generally. College guys can probably get away with this behavior because binge drinking is simply a part of college social culture. Be forwarned, though men, when women hit about 24-25, their priorities change.

After college, women look at prospective dating partners (note that I did not say sexual partners) as future husbands, fathers, and providers. A home, a good job, and a 401k are turn-ons. Drunken behavior is not. It makes you look unstable and untrustworthy. My behavior in this case was definitely -EV, although in my defense it's about the only event each year where I abuse alcohol so egregiously.

So what did I do right? Let's first focus on the crucial phone conversation where I "asked" her out in a most aggressive manner. This is key.

Guys, you must start looking at dating strategy in the same manner you do poker strategy. Different poker players have different styles, but one thing is true of all winning players - they play aggressively.

Was my move a sure thing? No. Could Mrs. Hobbes just as easily been turned off by my technique? Absolutely. In a sense I was merely lucky, but lucky in the way that winning poker players are lucky.

In poker you can't expect to win by sitting around waiting for A-A while the blinds eat you up. Instead, you wait for a positive situation and jam the pot with chips knowing that, because you are operating with imperfect information, there are no guarantees.

Good players do this fearlessly. Do the same with women and you'll have +EV. No one ever won by checking, calling, and folding to heat on the river.

There is another aspect to this as well. I want you all to give this some thought because it's important: That one moment where I asked out my wife defined the rest of our relationship.

Think about the first impression you get about a player who sits down at your table. Now think about how long that impression lasts, even if he eventually proves your initial assessment wrong.

My wife will probably always view me as being a strong, confident, and capable man largely because that's exactly how I handled myself when asking her out.

I have a friend who was so shy in college that his now-wife had to ask him out and guide him through the entire dating process. Guess what? She still tells this story, almost sneeringly, in mixed company. In my opinion, she doesn't give him his due respect, partly, I believe, because he established a weak table image from the first time they met.

The next girl you ask out may become your wife. What is the table image you'd like to have for the next 50 years, weak or strong? Act accordingly. Start setting precedents now. It's tough to earn back respect after you've lost it.

Now then, I did get jammed up a bit by not thinking the details of our date through, but corrected this with some outside advice and a bit of creative thinking.

Rely on your friends for help. Everyone needs counsel. You do it right here on these forums; it's ok to do it with women, too.

Asking for help from the guys was really no different than posting a hand history.

The mistake I see a lot of guys make is to ask women for this kind of advice. Don't do this. Women may understand what it's like to be a woman, but men understand how to date women. They are not the same.

You wouldn't ask a chess player for poker advice, would you? Ok, then. Don't be the guy that's always asking women what they think of this or that. What they say they think and how they actually respond are often entirely different. Besides, it makes you look like a p*ssy. Men aren't supposed to ask; men are just supposed to know, and women do talk to one another, trust me.

Alright, so how did I seal this deal? Well, I practiced a crucial poker skill by observing my date and adjusting my play accordingly.

As soon as it became clear to me that my date liked me, but was a little uncomfortable, (And who could blame her? I was drunk the last time she'd talked to me.) I made sure that I took this into consideration.

I put the action right in her hands while still making my intentions clear. I didn't make a move at her. I told her what I wanted and let her make the move.

Basically, I checked and called.

Sometimes this isn't necessary, but in this case I thought it was the correct play. Men don't have any idea what it might be like to fear being date-raped so it's always a good idea to try to empathize with the women you date. You're a strange man in a strange apartment who is in most cases bigger and stronger than her. Try to understand where she's coming from and practice the Golden Rule. It's the right thing to do.

My dating philosophy in a nutshell is this: A successful dating game is very similar to a successful poker game.

You should be straightforward and aggressive most of the time. There's really little need for subterfuge and head games. That's just nothing more than Fancy Play Syndrome.

Some guys get so caught up in reading the tea leaves and obssessing over every detail. They run about from one female friend to another analyzing conversations and trying to set up situations where the stars will align in such a way that they might score a date or sex without ever actually having to put themselves out there.

Bad idea. Less cloak and dagger and more aggression. Aggression wins you respect. Aggression defines your hand in unclear situations. Aggression is a winning strategy.

Of course it's easier to just sort of hope things work out. No one likes risking embarassment or emotional pain. But poker players should know better than any that this path of least resistance is incorrect. Weak poker players do the same thing because they are afraid to be strong and bold. They sit around waiting for the sure thing, don't they? And you beat them, don't you? Almost every time.

Guess, what? When you're weak at dating, you're getting beaten almost every time, too. The quarterback is dorking that girl you have a crush on while you sit around waiting for pocket Aces. Don't be weak. Don't be a chump.

Practice the same skills with women that you do at the poker table - observe, adjust, and fearlessly make your move. What's the worst that can happen? She says no? Big deal. Some of you put hundreds or even thousands of dollars at risk every day. If you can do that, you certainly can risk your ego getting bruised. Besides, there's always another game just around the corner. [img]/images/graemlins/wink.gif[/img]