The only dating rules are your own

A good friend of mine, who shall remain anonymous in the interest of protecting his game, recently started a relationship that he's pretty stoked about. The first couple dates have been smashing successes, but he's hesitant. His chief concern: He asked her out twice in three days, hence breaking the Three Day Rule.

For those too far removed from the dating scene, the Three Day Rule is usually defined as:

a. A rule established by the norms of society about the contact information received by people on the dating scene.
b. A rule to prevent a man from appearing desperate or needy after attaining a girl's phone number that he (just) met. Following this rule, you are to wait three days before calling in order to create suspense and appear non-needy.
c. An awesome rule created by Jesus, as explained by Barney Stinson in the sitcom How I Met Your Mother. The rule states that you should always wait three days before calling a girl. The three day rule was invented by Jesus, because he waited three days to resurrect.

On a positive note, such frequency means that the pair have avoided dating gridlock, but my friend is concerned about appearing too interested (desperate) by having so much communication in the early stages.

Fortunately, I have gained a sense of enlightenment toward dating as reward for my coming off the market. (I believe Buddhists call this "karma.")  To calm my friend's fears, I gave him priceless advice:

"Fudge the rules."

Except I didn't say fudge.

I've learned that if you're looking for true compatibility, then whatever you think - your gut instinct - is what you should go with because whoever you're truly compatible with will be accepting of your decision, even in the early stages of dating. This all really boils down to "Be yourself," with reasoning.

Compatibility is all about communication, so if you communicate unnaturally (Read: follow artificial dating rules), then you're not giving yourself a chance to figure out if the compatibility is there off the bat. If you want to call her the next day, go for it. If she doesn't like hearing from you that soon then she's probably not the right girl. If she's glad to hear from you then you're probably on the right track.

I think Amanda and I went out three times in the first seven days we knew each other, and probably six or seven times in the first two weeks. We talked or emailed every day in between. That's what I wanted. It turns out that's what she wanted. Win win.

Of course, my friend is much smarter than me and already figured much of this out, whereas I made most of my progress via dumb luck. But it still felt good to have had that epiphany and share it with him. Better late than never.

Back to my friend, he told his lady the day after their second date that we was breaking the rules by talking to her so frequently.

Upon hearing this she replied, "Fudge the rules."

Except she didn't say fudge.  It seems like a match in the making.

Denim wars

I need new jeans - badly. I've worn the wash out of my Lucky jeans, and the Kenneth Cole and Ben Sherman jeans that I found at Goodwill (what a steal!) last year have seen better days, too. I've been on the hunt for some new jeans off and on for the last couple months, which you think would be an easy thing. I wear 32x32, and that's a fairly common, always-in-stock size.

BUT DAMN YOU, HIPSTERS.

I cannot find a 32x32 pair of jeans that fits over my calves. I have muscular soccer legs and a matching backside. Ladies, you're welcome.

Why are all the men's jeans designed to fit like women's jeans these days? Now I know why Scott wears cargo pants all the time. And if he wears jeans, they're Carhartts.

Before a grad school meeting yesterday, Amanda and I found time to shop in the U-district. We went to Urban Outfitters, where I tried on some 33x32 Levi jeans. This is the all-American demin, right? I gave myself the extra inch in the waist just to make sure I wasn't kidding myself.

I couldn't get the jeans over my butt. Could-not-get-them-over-my-ba-donk-a-donk.

So, you can imagine me wrestling with my own feet in that small cubicle of a dressing room trying to get the jeans off. Outside, Amanda flipped through a pop-culture book wondering if I was in a UFC fight or trying on a pair of jeans.

I raised the ante to 34x32 jeans at the next stop, Buffalo Exchange. Still no luck. I could get the jeans on, but the waist was WAY too big. I pulled the jeans away from me by the button. There was so much room I could see my knees.

These, too, shall not pass.

I remember back in like 1999 when you bought jeans because of the wash, not the fit, because EVERY pair of jeans fit right because the only fit was baggy. R.I.P. gangsta rap.

So now that I've tried the stylish places, what am I left with? The Old Navy's, American Eagle's and GAP's of every American Mall? I'd rather not mimic the back-to-school styles of every other junior high student.

I can't give up this fight, this war, to find jeans, because I need them like Britney Spears needs autotune... I just don't want my jeans to fit like Britney's.

I'll take recommendations for affordable, relaxed fitting men's jeans in the comments. Now, on a related note, here's the most underrated Genuwine song ever. This one's dedicated to The Wives, who heard me sing this at random too many times in the old apartment. Enjoy.

Texts from Courtney

Courtney: "Who are the Sounders playing this weekend? I am behind them at the airport." Paolo: "Uh... Not sure..."

Courtney: "It's either the team or a bunch of gorgeous male models wearing Sounders gear."

This is from the same woman who serviced Jessica Biel on a flight to Vancouver yesterday.

Courtney: "She is very pretty and VERY skinny. Like crazy small."

The life of a flight attendant... I mean safety professional.