(Photo credit: Karyn Polewaczyk)

After spending the entire month of April celebrating my birthday, my wallet has been pleading for a break. But with warmer weather and longer stretches of daylight finally here, the thought of staying in to curl up with a book on a Friday night to save money just doesn’t have the same appeal as it did in, say, January.

And so, I’ve created a challenge for this coming weekend: to go out for less than $20 per night. That figure includes transportation, food and libations, entertainment, and anything else that might pop up between the witching hours of 9 PM and 2 AM.

Of course, it helps that I have a set of loosely-defined plans in place to keep me on course—two art gallery openings and a tequila launch party—but even the most well-thought out plan can take a turn for the unknown, as evidenced by my preference for shiny, bubbly things capped in gold foil.

I’ll report back on Monday with my findings—and in the meantime, feel free to share your own tips on going out on the cheap in the comments below. Wish me luck, as long as it goes with the boots made for walking I’ll invariably be wearing all weekend to cart myself around sans taxi.

Some strange things have happened this week. A cab driver didn't harass me for using a credit card to pay my fare—and then held the door open for me upon departure. An employee at Shreve, Crump & Low (I was there only to replenish my stationary, sigh) gave me a hug when I told her I’d just cried after seeing one of the Marathon memorials. Passengers quickly ambled out of their seats during rush hour on the T and offered them to anyone else who might want to sit down. And even though it’s a pet peeve of mine, I withheld accusatory glares toward Hubway bicyclists who rode freely down the sidewalks, stepping aside and allowing my annoyance to pass instead.

This is the silver lining of tragedy: we feel the urge to reach out, to connect, and to be kind to one another. And that is a wonderful thing.

How long these exemplary attitudes last, though, is another matter. Boston has a notoriously gruff temperance—and while we may be Boston Strong, we’re not always Boston Nice. Need an example? Just visit your closest bar to witness at least one person waving a bill while clamoring desperately for a bartender’s attention, a group of bros in Celtics jerseys, and a heated argument over who’s paying what portion of the tab.

The question is, can we love that dirty water and clean up our acts at the same time? I spoke with three experts to find out.

How we choose to grieve and reflect during a difficult time is an individual choice. Socializing in the wake of tragedy might seem like a strange and foreign thing to do; it might even seem wrong. For some of us, it can be helpful, whether it's by fostering our sense of community or through the simple act of being around other people. It can even serve as a welcome distraction in the midst of information overload.

Below is an ongoing list of events created by local organizations to benefit the Boston Marathon recovery efforts and the victims affected by Monday’s bombings. If you'd like to include your event, please email the details (and links) to karyn.polewaczyk@gmail.com.

Our city may be on the mend, but its spirit remains unbroken. Boston, we love you.

(Photo credit: Flickr.com/JLBraga)

The “blind date”: does such a thing exist anymore? With the advent of online dating (and the subsequent profiles that breakdown users’ likes and dislikes into neat, compartmentalized quadrants)—not to mention Facebook, Twitter and that black hole otherwise known as Google—there’s no limit to how much dirt we can dredge up about a potential partner before even meeting them face-to-face. And, still, blind dates tend to be the most nerve-wracking kind of dates, because even the most cooly-worded introductory email can’t predict real-life chemistry.

But that's the nature of the beast; and as the saying goes, you can't win if you don't play. Before you head out with your next match, be (s)he from a dot com or with a friend-of-a-friend, consider some of these blind date "To-Do's," all of which keep the pressure at a minimum and offer an easy exit strategy if you're finding your signals are more mixed than steady.

Empty wallets, happy dates? (Photo credit: TheGloss.com)

Before you gripe about the cost of your last night out, be glad—maybe—that you’re not living among our pals down under: financial behemoth Deutsche Bank just released its “Cheap Date” index, and per the banking giant, Australia reigns as the number one most expensive place to go on a date. By taking into account the cost of standard date stuff—you know, like bouquets of roses and pizza—Deutsche Bank was able to rank major metropolitan cities according to how much it costs to plant seeds of romance in each. Not surprisingly, New York City is high on the list, as is London, where the pound-to-dollar conversion rate is nothing short of laughable.

Don’t worry; Deutsche Bank didn’t forget about us. In fact, we’re on a special, supplemental list: apparently, it’s very expensive to buy cigarettes in Boston. Which is something to think about before you take that special someone out for fair-market-value slice of pizza.

Wishful thinking? (Photo credit: Karyn Polewaczyk)

April showers might bring May flowers in other parts of the country, but in this neck of the woods, the lurch forward can feel like a nasty trick Mother Nature’s playing at our expense. Sure, the days are getting longer (and the rays that peek through my blinds on Sunday morning do feel awfully bright), but save for a few instances, the winter-like temperatures haven’t budged—which means that this Bostonian has felt perfectly content to stay settled in her cold weather consumption habits; namely, by way of the three B’s: burgers, bourbon, and brunch.

Not that there’s anything wrong with a burger now and then (and if you’re going to indulge, I highly recommend the one served up at the Franklin Southie, where I may or may not be a regular), and a well-crafted Manhattan can soften the edge of a stressful week. But just as those self-esteem-eroding notices plastered all over my gym have reminded me, spring—and, soon after, summer—is literally just around the corner. We’re encouraged to shape up and clean up; why not do the same with our social lives?

I’ve been a fan of ELLE magazine’s advice columnist and counselor to the forlorn, E. Jean Carroll, since I began reading the glossy in my teenage years. Her straightforward, no-holds-barred style is refreshingly appealing, not to mention hilarious (dear).

The online dating service HowAboutWe recently sat down with Ms. Carroll to gain her insight on what makes—and breaks—a first date. Aside from her saucy suggestion that women steer clear of wearing pants (for many reasons that I can’t list here—you can read why for yourselves if you’d like), E. Jean was adamant that dinner, at all costs, be avoided in the beginning stages of a relationship. In fact, she called it “death.”

“Death, death, death. Dinner is DEATH. DO NOT go to dinner on a first date. Shall I say it again? I’ll say it again.”

(Photo credit: amador_emmanuel34/Flickr)

Earlier this year, I confessed my cab addiction to Boston.com readers—how honest, how humbling!—and assumed that placing my admission in public arena was just what the doctor ordered to kick my expensive (and not-so-environmentally-friendly) habit to the curb.

(Cough.)

I certainly didn’t plan on the slew of blizzards we’ve experienced since then (and the mass of icy, knee-deep puddles that have emerged after the snow’s melted), nor did I know just how handy Uber could be in particularly time-crunched situations (like, say, when I’ve overslept and am running late for work). But I digress. Using a variety of ways to get around—cabs, the subway, and yes, walking—is far easier (and less expensive) than owning a car in the city, which I did up until two years ago.

Not all modes of transportation were created equal, though; I’ve certainly made a number of mistakes in my day, including the time I took a Zipcar out to the suburbs on the Fourth of July and found myself barricaded out of Cambridge when I tried to return it; or when I miscalculated the last run of the T and wound up stranded in Somerville after a night at a jazz bar. Here’s a breakdown of what to take and when—and feel free to add your own suggestions in the comments section below.

Photo credit: Karyn Polewaczyk. Dress: American Apparel; ink stain: Pilot Vision V5

It’s 5:30 PM and you’re about to check out of the office when your phone chimes with an incoming text: a friend you haven’t seen in ages wants to know if you’re around for dinner. Ten minutes beforehand, you couldn’t wait to go home; now, you’re excited at the prospect of catching up—but a quick once-over in the bathroom mirror says there’s no way you’re going anywhere except your couch with a toaster-oven pizza in hand. Your skin is greasy, your hair is flat, and your outfit, which seemed so fresh and “Who Runs The World? (Girls)” this morning, is now sad and tired-looking from sitting behind a desk for eight-plus hours. (Or, as evidenced from my photo above, is blessed with an idea meant for a notebook.) It seems silly to forgo plans for the sake of vanity, yet looking less than your best has dampened your confidence. What’s a modern day Tess McGill to do?

If you follow the advice that appears in certain women’s glossies, there’s not much to do. Just swipe on a coat of red lipstick, swap your sensible flats for a pair of towering stilettos, add a festive accessory or two, and you’ll be good to go!

Right?

Unfortunately, chandelier earrings and a can-do spirit are no match for the unpredictable nature of New England weather, much less the disgruntled attitude of fellow T riders at rush hour who couldn’t care less about your shoes. (Plus, I know I’m not the only one who feels like red lipstick requires more than just a dab from the tube—its application is practically a science.) I’ve changed in my car, snuck into fitting rooms en route to my destination to reapply mascara, and diverted cabs around the block so that I can fasten into sexier footwear before arriving for a date. Yes, I'm that awkward friend who always seems to have a spare pair of tights in her purse and a makeup bag overflowing with blotting papers—and for good reason. Having gone through the desk-to-dinner motions so many times over the years, I’ve learned a thing or two about the art of the impromptu revamp, which is why I'm here to share my tips. You don’t need much, except anticipation of the unknown. (And, perhaps, a stain stick.)

Start at the beginning. I’ve heard enough about shrugging off cardigans to show off lacy camisoles, thank you very much. I like fashion writer Jennifer Scott’s credo: “Look presentable always.” Your best bet is to pick an outfit that’s both work- and nighttime-appropriate. I like the all-in-one appeal of a wrap dress, which can be purchased on any budget (and, if you invest in a good one, it’ll last you for years) and give you the most bang for your buck. I work in a creative environment and have some flexibility with what I can wear to work; if you need more polish, keep a blazer at your desk and remove it before you dance your way out of the building.

A Tide pen: your BFF. I can’t be the only closet slob in Boston, right? You don’t have to raise your hand—you know who you are—but if you’re prone to knocking over mugs of coffee, dropping food into your lap, and leaning into things that are sticky or wet throughout the course of the day, it’s probably a good idea to add a stain stick into the mix. And if you’re one of those people who remains remarkably pristine throughout the day with nary a smudge or hair out of place: in theory, I dislike you, but I’m sure you’re a good person.

A scarf: your other BFF. A scarf is about as versatile of an accessory you can have. You can easily layer on a pop of color without having to change clothes, and if the temperature wanes (like when you’re in a crowded bar and rivulets of sweat begin to form at the back of your neck because why is it so hot in here?), it just as easily folds into a bag or coat sleeve. Presto!

The emergency kit. Think of this as a first-aid kit for your face—and hair, and underarms, and, well, you get the idea. The idea here is to include things that will beautify you in under five minutes, and includes grooming essentials. In mine (a nylon zip-top bag from LeSportsac), you’ll find mini replicas of my makeup staples (mascara, beloved eyebrow brush, lipstick or gloss and those aforementioned blotting papers, plus a thimble-sized amount of BB cream I’ve squeezed from the tube into a plastic paint well (you can find them at art supply stores)); collapsable hair brush and dry shampoo; a mini toothpaste and toothbrush; deodorant, nail file, and small bottle of clear nail polish (I prefer Nailtiques, which dries quickly and doubles as a nail strengthener). Most items can be purchased at Sephora or in the travel aisle at CVS. I keep this kit in my desk drawer, though it also travels just as well inside a tote bag. Seriously, though: nix the red lipstick here in favor of something neutral. The point is to get ready quickly, and with minimal effort.

Boots made for walking. In a city like Boston, boots—in which to walk when cabs are few and far between, and in which to wear on a grimy subway—are much more practical than pumps. In warmer months, I prefer flat, gladiator-style sandals to get me around town (don’t get me started on my disdain toward the commuter flip-flop), but since we’re still in the throes of winter, I lean toward a trusty pair of Frye boots, which are both stylish and comfortable, and won’t take too badly of a beating if the sunshine turns to rain (or snow).

These are just a few ways to simplify the transition of moving from weekday warrior to dancing (or dining) queen. What are your tips?

“My favorite part is when those little guys and gals head out to bars on the weekend like they’re experiencing real nightlife!” he added. “Gets me every time.”

So said Michael Goodman, The Onion’s faux interviewee who took faux stabs at every aspect of “Hub” living, from its public transportation, job market, culture and nightlife (natch) in an article published on Wednesday that’s set Boston abuzz. (Even this blog’s host had something to say about it.) The nightlife, it seems, was of particular focus; we corn-fed Bostonians sure love our theater and fancy dinners at Top of the Hub, by golly!

Satire aside, The Onion wasn’t completely off base: our nightlife is sleepy, even Puritanical, and despite the surge of recent openings and renovations conducted by hospitality heavyweights, it will never compare to places like New York and L.A. (and yes, even Chicago). Groups like Future Boston Alliance are aiming to change that; in the meantime, if we really wanted to stay out until 5 A.M. or pay thousands of dollars for bottle service, wouldn’t we enact a mass exodus to a place that has it?

No, we wouldn’t, because we’re not just Bostonians; we’re New Englanders. We gripe about early closing times and the lack of happy hours the same way we bemoan the heat at the height of summer, only to look back fondly on sweltering humidity in the dead of winter. Misery loves company, and we love playing martyrs as much as we love our Dunkin’ Donuts coffee. So what if the streets are practically empty past 10 P.M. on a Tuesday night (or even a Friday night, in some cases)? We like our cozy nook of the country just the way it is, thank you very much—and without the constant glare of flashing disco balls. They're awfully bright, you know.

Before I leave my apartment, my routine goes something like this: check electrical appliances to ensure they’re shut down. Slip into my coat. Drop keys into purse. Apply one last spritz of perfume. Place an earbud in each ear, close the door behind me—make sure it’s locked—and hit ‘Play’ on my iPod before strutting off to my destination.

In the case of last night, that destination was a parking lot a half a mile from my apartment, where I was set to retrieve a Zipcar for an excursion to my friends’ new home in the suburbs. My music was playing at a fairly reasonable level—loud enough to block out the boisterous noise of the Irish bars I passed en route, but not too loud to hear a car blasting its horn—and as I darted down the street, I thought I heard my name being called out. Yet, I kept going, certain I was hearing things.

Turns out, I wasn’t.

“J,” as shown in grey above, is a guy I briefly dated a few summers ago. Even though things didn’t take off beyond a brief flirtation at the time, we’ve stayed in touch, and given his recent relocation to the city, I wasn’t entirely surprised to have run into him.

But technically speaking, I didn’t run into him—I ran past him. Like so many other urbanites, I'm guilty of relying upon my various iWhatevers to keep myself occupied in public spaces, whether it’s scrolling through an app on the bus or plugging my eardrums with pop music while I browse the aisles at Trader Joe’s. Or, as far as last night went, while I sprinted toward a parking lot. While there’s certainly no lack of data proving that our gadgets are interfering with our lives, I always felt, perhaps wrongly, that I was above this technological interception.

“J” is right, I think. Whether we’re using our gadgets to stay entertained or to keep us preoccupied, they’re seriously limiting our ability to connect with other people. And for legions of single people who want to meet potential partners—and especially for those who aren’t interested in online dating, including me—that means putting our devices away (and in my case, removing the earbuds) and paying attention to what’s literally in front of us. At parks and concerts. In bars and nightclubs. And as last night proved, on the sidewalk, too.

Of course, there’s irony that I’m supplementing my argument to put away devices down with a trail of text message screenshots—and sometimes, we use those devices specifically to avoid people (I know I do, at least). But you can bet that I’ll be leaving my iPod at home when I meet "J" for a drink later this week.

A few months ago, I boldly ventured out into the depths of a Saturday night alone—and despite my initial hesitation about showing up to an art gallery opening without a companion or five by my side (wouldn’t people think I was weird? pathetic? something worse?), I wound up having one of the most fun nights in recent memory. I felt so inspired by my experience that I wrote about it, procuring a how-to guide of sorts for other like-minded folks who don’t want to wait around on indecisive (and unavailable) friends to keep their social lives afloat.

I’d been out on my own alone at night before my big debut, of course—to movie theatres, cocktail parties where I knew I’d likely bump into a few familiar faces, and other places requiring a minimal commitment to socializing with the unknown—and looking back, I realize that it was the gradual escalation of exposure to situations I’d deemed intimidating that allowed me to waltz into an intimate space full of strangers like I owned the place instead of clinging to a corner, counting down the minutes until I'd permit myself to leave.

Going out alone might not be for everyone, but if you’re intrigued and want to give it a try, here are five places where you can test the waters before swimming out to the deep end, whether you’re single, attached, or just want to try something new. If you feel weird or uncomfortable, you can always go home—but with so many options to explore in this fabulous city of ours, why would you?

Blanc Gallery
110 Brookline Street, Central Square
This is the gallery whose opening I attended and mentioned in my original piece. Blanc is intimate and slightly off the beaten path (you’ll have to head toward Cambridgeport to find it, about a seven minute walk from the Central Square T stop), and hosts opening receptions each time a new exhibit is ready for its reveal (about once a quarter, from what I’ve observed)—replete with a DJ, a (cheap) cash bar and like-minded folks who care about local culture. Add your name to the mailing list to find out about future exhibitions and events.

Piattini Wine Café
226 Newbury Street, Back Bay
There are so many wonderful things I could say about Piattini, a hidden, tiramisu-flavored gem amidst the “see and be seen” restaurants of Newbury Street. But for all intents and purposes here, it’s quite simply an easy place to have lunch (or dinner) on your own, due to its menu portions (piattini means “small plates” in Italian), compact, cozy space and accommodating staff. I recommend the melanzane affumicate—and a generously-poured glass of red wine from their award-winning list.

Wally’s Jazz Club
427 Chester Square, South End
I’ve been to many live music venues on my own before, and truth be told, it can be obnoxious if you’re floating solo in a sea of groups at a general admission show—watch the personal space, people! Wally’s kills two birds with one stone: first, it’s iconic, and despite its unassuming facade, has hosted a series of jazz greats over the years. Second, it’s small—are you sensing a theme here?—and can reach capacity early in the evening, and because seats are far and few between, no one will notice (or care) if you’re standing by yourself or with a small entourage.

Brookline Booksmith
279 Harvard Street, Coolidge Corner
Bookworms, rejoice! Brookline Booksmith is the perfect destination if you’re hoping to catch an author’s reading, but don’t feel like subjecting yourself to one of Boston’s many (sometimes, admittedly cliquey) storytelling series. Get on the mailing list, or check the link for a well-maintained calendar of events. Start here and then catch a movie at the Coolidge Corner Theatre across the street, or finish at the Booksmith before a quite bite to eat at the Regal Beagle.

Boston Center for Adult Education
122 Arlington Street, Bay Village
Beyond its many course offerings, the BCAE regularly hosts special events and exhibits (which you can find out about by signing up for the center’s email list or by reading Boston.com, which often includes the events in its A&E listings—or, by signing up for a class). In fact, the BCAE is hosting a photography exhibit (with wine and cheese reception) this Friday in its gallery from 6:00-7:30 PM—and did I mention it’s free? RSVP is required, which you can do here.

Adam Hunger for The Boston Globe

A few weeks ago, I met a guy at a concert, and agreed to meet him for drinks several days later. It wasn’t the best date I’d ever been on—we didn’t have much in common aside from our mutual admiration of the musician we’d seen, and it became obvious early on that the chemistry was minimal, if existent at all—but disappointments are part of the dating game, and I chalked it up to experience. When I hinted that I was tired and would probably head home, he flagged down the bartender—and after surveying the tab, slowly peeled off a number of singles to cover the exact amount of his drink before sliding the check presenter my way. To say that I was shocked would be an overstatement (if I were writing a novel about my life, I’d describe my reaction as having “recoiled in horror”), but I was considerably annoyed. Because in my book, the guy pays for the first date—even when it’s something casual—and especially since he was the one who did the asking. (I’m speaking from a heterosexual viewpoint, here.) It’s not so much about the money as it is a manners thing: a guy paying for a first date is one of the few elements of tradition still standing amidst today’s thinly-veiled definition of modern romance. I won’t even do “the reach”—that is, a pretend dive for my wallet that so many women feel compelled to perform once the bill arrives—on a first date (though, as evidenced above, I did so out of necessity on this particular occasion, plus the tip he’d neglected to leave). I will, however, alternate financial responsibility for the tab several dates in, or if a guy’s sprung for a nice meal on dates one or two, I’ll cover post-dinner cocktails—and so on. My rules aren’t hard and fast as much as they are intuitive, and regardless of what my expectations are, I always arrive prepared to pay my way.

I replayed the evening for my girlfriends—some did hilariously recoil in horror—and most etiquette books I own carefully glazed over matters of the heart. So, I checked with the world’s foremost expert on everything, Google, to see if there was any other evidence to support my opinion. The results were somewhat ambivalent, if skewed in my favor:

•LearnVest, a financial website geared toward women, said that it’s a matter of looks, where the more attractive a woman is, the more likely the date would be paid for by her companion—but then again, someone’s perceived level of attractiveness is subjective.

•AskMen said a guy should always pay for the first date, except if the woman did the asking; then, she should pay. (I ran this theory by a guy friend, who shook his head and said that he’d insist on paying even if a woman asked him out.)

•A 2008 study conducted by NBC (which, admittedly, is kind of old in Internet years) netted a mixed bag of gender roles and confusion, leaving the reader without a definite conclusion

First dates are nerve-wracking enough; throw economics into the mix, and thing can get really messy. Still, I remain convinced that tradition has its place here, and that guys should pay for first dates. I'll turn the spotlight to you, readers. Do you favor conventional rules when it comes to paying for first dates, or have you kissed tradition goodbye? Does the type of date affect who pays for what? Was my reaction warranted, or are my expectations totally dated (and perhaps too high)?

Yeah, it’s Valentine’s Day. But let’s cut through the sugar coating, shall we? Sometimes—often—our paths to find The One diverge, and a road trip is in order. And by that, I mean partaking in a good, old-fashioned, American makeout session, which, in my opinion, is among the purest and most enjoyable of carnal pursuits.

But you’re not in a relationship, you say. So what? And you’re not casually dating, and didn't even have a Valentine this year, to boot. Shrug. That doesn’t matter, either. At the risk of sounding like what my high school Latin teacher would call a “floozy,” there are plenty of willing participants out there—in bars, lounges, and other places chock full of dark corners—just waiting for you and your luscious lips to show up. Shake off the idea whether it’s for five minutes or forever—this is about spontaneity! fun! Mr. and Ms. Right Now!—and read on for my favorite places to makeout in the city.

Good Life
28 Kingston Street, Financial District
Bypass the upstairs and head straight for the basement. Between loud music thumping out of the speakers and the heat from hundreds of bodies packed into a small space, it's a breeding ground for romantic encounters, and reminds me of the basements of my adolescence, minus awkward games of Spin The Bottle. Grab a shot of liquid courage if you must—I’ve found that literally tossing myself against the crowd to get to the bar works well if it’s packed, which it often is—and grab your temporary S/O and hunker down in a plush vinyl booth.

Lucky's Lounge
355 Congress Street, Fort Point Channel
Lucky’s Lounge is also a basement of sorts, if you think about it, and maybe that’s why it’s so sexy. Or maybe I just have a thing for basements. In any event, the slight cheesiness of its decor—more vinyl booths, a faux fireplace, an awkwardly-positioned stage—is evened out by an ambiance that makes it seem like anything is possible, and exacerbated by the fact that the bartenders pour their drinks on the stronger side. Also worth noting: Lucky’s is situated at the end of A Street, which feels like an alley, and what’s hotter than making out in an alley? (Cue awkward silence, crickets chirping)

Dali
451 Washington Street, Somerville
Dali is somewhat off the beaten path, and totally worth the trip. (Plus, a cab ride can heighten the anticipation, am I right?) Admittedly, it’s a go-to date spot of mine—it’s dark, it’s romantic, it’s delicious—and it’s a restaurant, not a bar. But it’s hard to find a place that serves sangria on tap, and even harder to find a place where the servers won’t rush you out of your table even when there’s a long wait at the door. Plus, everything is served with a wink and a nod—their staff knows what’s up.

Noir at the Charles Hotel
1 Bennett Street, Harvard Square
A hotel bar, to a degree, sets the scene for impulsive moves—like being tipped back into a passionate kiss and coming up for air only to swill from a martini glass before dipping back down again. Noir definitely has a retro je nais se quois that makes those kind of movie-star kisses possible, plus tasty snacks if you’re in the mood to hand-feed the handsome stranger sitting across from you. Even their cocktail names, like “Dark Passage” and “Red Light," seem to inspire a bit of naughtiness in the most unassuming of patrons. Meow.

Enormous Room (R.I.P.)
567 Mass Ave, Central Square
“Hey, wait a minute!” you might think as you scratch your head. “Isn’t Enormous Room no more? Finit? Caput?” Sadly, yes: Enormous Room closed its doors in late 2011 and reopened as Brick & Mortar—which, in its own right, is great. But Enormous Room, with its teak furniture, Persian rugs and shady restrooms, was so cool, it was hot—and that’s why I’m throwing up a posthumous peace sign to one of my formerly favorite places to makeout in Greater Boston; particularly, while pressed against the sink in one of those very restrooms.

Last week, I wrote a response to a New York Times' article, The End of Courtship, and aptly called mine An Encore For Courtship. In it, I heralded interviewee Cheryl Yeoh, whose "Not going to settle for less than I deserve" attitude struck me as refreshing. Yeoh, in return, came across my post—thanks, Google robots!—and shared the response she posted to her personal blog. I've included a link to her reply, and summarized a few of her talking points:

•Women generally prefer men who are considerate and thoughtful than those who try to impress them with material objects.

•There's no such thing as a perfect catch, but you should identify what your "dealbreakers" are.

The point I liked the best, which I can most certainly relate to—and I'm sure other women can, too—is this, which I'll quote directly:

"Believe it or not, I’d actually encourage more casual interactions at the beginning of the courting phase: coffee dates, group hangouts, drop ins, etc. They’re all totally valid and fine! But once there’s a clear indication that one (or both) parties, wants to explore something more meaningful, then the guy should make the effort to ask the girl out on a real date. This is the phase where I don’t compromise and will almost never accept last minute texts that sound like this “Hey beautiful. Private dance party at my place. No special attire required.” (actual text I received in Oct 2012) I immediately moved him to my “was promising before but now a loser” list."

So you'll be single on Valentine's Day. So what? It doesn't mean you need to resign yourself to your couch with a box of leftover Christmas chocolates while the Spoken For crowd reigns over OpenTable reservations (unless that's your thing; then by all means, meander away). These events around the Boston area are sure to spark your interest—and maybe ignite a flame with a mysterious stranger. Some require advance registration and/or tickets; be sure to click the links to learn more.

Update! Some of the events I initially listed have sold out. (I told you to check those links!) A few more have been rescheduled due to this past weekend's snowstorm. Check below for subtractions and additions, singles.

Tuesday, February 12, 7 PM - A Night of Love and Secrets with Christopher Castellani and Randy Susan Meyers at Brookline Booksmith, Coolidge Corner
Artistic director of Grub Street Christopher Castellani (A Kiss from Maddalena and The Saint of Lost Things) shares his lauded new novel All this Talk of Love. Meet the Grassos: a family of Italian immigrants who travel back to their ancestral village of Santa Cecilia. Surprising secrets unfold in this warm and witty tale of family and the immigrant experience. Plus: three women’s lives intersect in ways they could not imagine in Randy Susan Meyers’ dark, revealing, honest tale about the aftermath of infidelity. Grub Street Ambassador and author of theThe Murderer’s Daughters introduces us to three mothers, two fathers, and one child - and deep questions about the meanings of love and family.

Wednesday, February 13, 7 PM - Meet Your Valentine with Instinct Matchmaking at Sacco's Bowl Haven, Davis Square
Strike! Bowl your way to romance at this laid-back gathering, with plenty of complimentary pizza from adjacent Flatbread Company and bowling to help break the ice. Cocktails will be available for purchase, too. Be sure to preregister to guarantee your spot!

Wednesday, February 13, 8 PM - Dig Boston's Pre-Valentine's Day #lastminutelove Tweet Up at The Avenue, Allston
We've reached 14K followers, and to celebrate, we want to court you. And drink with you. And let you tweet Sweet Nothings into the ears of your Twitter crushes ... IRL. In addition to FREE beer compliments of Harpoon Brewery, there will be tons of FREE raffle tickets—with prizes compliments of RAWR, ONE Condoms, the Somerville Theatre, Shambala Meditation Center and more!

Thursday, February 14, 7 PM - The Somerville Arts Council presents Nibble at Porter Square Books, Cambridge
Happy Valentine's Day! Join The Somerville Arts Council at Porter Square Books for a virtual stroll through the cultural mecca that is Somerville. Nibble is an illustrated tour through the food landscape of Union Square, with its beautiful, motley mix of pizza joints, mom-and-pop markets, lively pubs, farmers markets, posh new restaurants and brimming global flavor. Nibble captures this dynamic and delicious place with personal stories, illustrations by local artists, and recipes from the featured restaurants.

Thursday, February 14, 8 PM - Anti-Valentine's Day Pizza & a Movie at Ducali Pizzeria & Bar, North End/West End area
Ducali Pizzeria & Bar knows not everyone wants to dress to the nines on Valentine's Day. That's why the pizzeria is bringing out its big screen projector and playing the Jim Carrey classic, Dumb & Dumber, with its full pizza, beer, wine and cocktail menus available for ordering. What better time to pick a pie that's heavy on the garlic?

Thursday, February 14, 10 PM - Tainted Love Industry Party at M.J. O'Connor's, Back Bay
Valentine's, shmalentines! There'll be no mushy stuff at this party, hosted exclusively for the city's industry staffers—the bartenders, barbacks, waitstaff and hosts that will no doubt be serving up their share of kissing couples—with plenty of prizes and giveaways, a $6 late night menu, and drinks on tap from Pinnacle Vodka and Stella Artois. A DJ will spin anti-love tunes, so dance the pain away!

Friday, February 15, 8 PM - The Timberfakes Present: Cry Me A River (Valentine's Day Hangover Party) at the Hard Rock Cafe, Faneuil Hall
Boston's only Justin Timberlake tribute band is back at the Hard Rock Cafe Boston for their annual Valentine's Day celebration. Whether you're single, in a relationship or in between, come shake what your mama gave you with The Timberfakes and their special guests: the charismatic artist known as Elektrik Kidd and the smooth soul sounds of Band 51.

Friday, February 15, 10 PM - Cupid & The Three Kings' Valentine's Bash at Nix's Mate, Financial District
The Three Kings are at it again! Their Valentine's Day bash will feature a dessert bar, a Valentine's-themed lingerie fashion show and a kissing booth (of course). Plus, expert matchmaker Emily Romano of Dateover will be on hand to help the lovelorn find their soul mates. A $20 ticket gets you in (VIP tables are available; acquire via the above link), with all proceeds going to charity. Festive attire is encouraged—think pink (and red)!

Sunday, February 17, 6 PM - Write on the DOT Valentine's-Themed Open Mic at Savin Bar & Kitchen, Dorchester
Bring your best/worst eros-inspired odes, erotica, limericks, diary entries, love sonnets...or seduce us with the work of another author.Hosted by Aaron Devine, with appearances by Sam Cha, Willie Pleasants, Betsy Gomez, Teresa McMahon, Nathaniel Hunt, Lynn Holmgren,Karen Locascio, Karyn Polewaczyk,Theadora Siranian, Lewis Feuer & more! Includes drink and food specials starting at just $4.

The New York Times recently ran a piece called The End of Courtship, where Style columnist Alex Williams interviewed Millennial women unhappy with the state of modern romance, know-it-all dating experts, and a handful of token men for the ever-important middle-class male perspective to ultimately surmise that the end of modern romance as we know it is indeed nigh. Amidst the commiserating, closer interviewee Cheryl Yeoh proffered that courtship is alive and kicking because, as she stated frankly, if a man really wants her, “he has to put in some effort.”

I agree wholeheartedly with Ms. Yeoh. I think that all of us, regardless of gender, have to put the work in—whether it’s with respect to our relationships, our jobs or our finances—in order to reap the benefits. It can also mean putting in the work to find a compatible mate, since the days of boyfriend trees, lush and ripe with emotionally-available men waiting to be plucked, have gone the way of of the 1950s housewife. Yet most of the women Mr. Williams spoke with seemed entitled, like they'd earned something for just showing up, which causes me to wonder if we've forgotten that a relationship is a privilege, not a right. It’s not that these women don’t deserve high standards; it’s that, I fear, they don’t know what their standards are. Almost all of the women Williams interviewed seemed particularly miffed by the lax communication style exhibited the by men they'd met online. The Internet is a breeding ground for casual conversation; its cousin, the text message, is about as noncommittal as chatter comes, with no rule as to who or what merits a reply, if any at all. Why the surprise? It doesn't mean we should brush aside our expectations for an iota of someone's attention. It means that if things just don't jive with someone, it's okay—and it's our responsibility to stick to our guns and hold out for something (or someone) more aligned with our wants and needs.

Me? I’m just fine being on my own, thanks, and I think it's a shame that the act of dating multiple people at once (versus hyperfocusing on someone early on to the point of scaring them away) is somehow lost on my generation. I can't deny that I like walking through a door held open by someone else, whether I'm entering a fancy restaurant or my office building. I appreciate it when a man has the gumption to ask me out, period. I even enjoy the act of sliding my arms into a coat that's been held out for me; it makes me feel feminine and even a tiny bit glamorous, like a catered-to movie star. These aren't acts of courtship; they're just good manners, easily reciprocated when the occasion arises. Yes, I prefer the asking to be done by the man—but I'll take the reins when I feel compelled. Call it a compromise, call it Dating 2.0: in the end, these gestures are nice, plainly and simply. They're certainly not a litmus test of whether a man is worth my time. (I can't say I've ever held out a coat for a guy, though.)

Mr. Williams' piece carefully omits the fact that the media—namely, gossip websites and certain women's glossies—plays a big role in the way we perceive whether a relationship has failed or succeeded, which is the reason why I think so many of us feel undue anxiety about being single. For women especially, the clock to find Mr. (or Mrs.) Right ticks loudly, and the alarm rings even louder once you’ve hit a certain age. That kind of pressure can make us do crazy things, like plan our fantasy weddings before we’ve made it past the third date; reply to texts from absentee men that say “hey babe, what are you up to this weekend?” as Anna Goldfarb considered, or worse: we'll partake in an interview that makes us seem stodgy and self-righteous.

Courtship isn’t over. Courtship is the willingness to take a chance on the unknown, to give a bit of ourselves because we want to, not because we have to. Courtship, as it always has been, is a game. There are just new rules—and it's still fun to play.

UPDATE: If you're interested in reading how Boston-area singles are re-thinking the online dating arena, check out Rachel Zarrell's front-page Boston Globe story, Dating Goes Social.

(Photo credit: TerriTrespicio.com)

When the mercury drops, the excuses begin: "I think I'll stay in tonight." "I'd love to go, but it's so cold outside!" "My new boyfriend's name is 'Grub Hub'."

No matter what the weather's like, there's nothing I enjoy more than slipping into sweatpants and a good book come Friday night, perfectly content with takeout and my own company. "Me" time, you might call it. It took a while to get here; my younger self had trouble resisting the hypnotic beckoning of bright lights and dark corners, even when my body (and bank account) said to stay put. Now, I'm apt to only give a quick glance at invitations to gather for post-clock-out cocktails—because what's the point, if all I want to do is go home?

The point, I think, is compromise. We can't complain about the fledgling status of our social lives if we're resigned to spend our time on the couch, declaring defeat against the elements as we dig in to another handful of French fries. (Ahem.) We can, however, define "going out" as we see fit, whether that means patronizing our local watering hole (and supporting our local economy in one fell swoop) for a quick bite to eat, throwing caution to the wind chill and strapping on stilettos—destination: dance floor—or taking a chance on a new-to-us musician performing at a venue we'd otherwise never frequent as I'll be doing tonight.

So bundle up, Boston—I'm nudging you to go out into that good night, even when the temperature dips below 30. These are a few of my favorite places where the ambiance is cozy, with plenty of space to stash a winter coat.

Silvertone
69 Bromfield Street (between Downtown Crossing and Government Center)

How do I love Silvertone? Let me count the ways. Between its nook-like, underground space that feels more like a private bunker than a basement, its incredible cocktail and food menus and warm, welcoming staff, Silvertone is a friend, indeed (if a bar could be a friend). I've ducked into Silvertone for brief reprieves between dinner and movie plans, and have spent entire nights here debating topics du jour over their famed macaroni and cheese. I recommend taking the T to Park Street; Bromfield Street is just a few blocks up Tremont, on the right.

Green Street Grill
280 Green Street (Central Square)

There aren't many places where you can score a seriously solid cocktail for $7. You can at Green Street, however—along with a host of other local beers, varietals and expertly-mixed libations. Or grab some nosh—small bites (like my favorite, the charcuterie plate) start at just $5. I like to visit Green Street at the beginning or end of my evening; it tends to get really busy between the hours of 7 and 10 P.M. If you're looking to test the waters before deciding on how long you want to stay, the staff will be happy to help you find a seat at the bar.

The Franklin Southie
152 Dorchester Avenue (South Boston, at Broadway)

I've said it before, I'll say it again—and pardon my juvenile vocabulary—The Franklin Southie is my jam. I've never once had a bad experience here, whether my intention is brunch, dinner or a late-night cocktail. It's a place where the staff just "gets it," be it the cheerful attitude of the bartenders and servers or the beautiful presentation of seriously delicious comfort food (exceptionally priced, by the way). Consider yourself warned: it can get loud, and packed—but you'll never have to wait too long for a table. Surprisingly, this is one of the best places in the city to get oysters—and the burgers aren't too shabby, either.

The Huffington Post invited me to speak on a panel about the virtues of "Dating Yourself"—or as I like to call it, taking oneself out for a night on the town. You can watch the full video here; you can read the tips I previously published on how to go out alone (and not suffer from a panic attack) here.

It makes me wonder, Boston: why, with all of our social progress, is it still taboo to do things like go out alone on a Friday night? We live in a notoriously cold city—both temperature- and personality-wise—and in my discussions with other people, be they female, male, single, attached or just looking to explore, there's an underlying desire to connect. Social media, I fear, isn't cutting it nearly as close as we want it to be. Can you imagine asking someone in your yoga class to grab coffee (or decaf tea) after the last 'Namaste' without feeling like a total freak? Or what it'd be like to go out dancing on a Saturday night—sans accompaniment?

Try it, I say. You might like it.

I tried to think of a clever title for this post—something like, "Let's Go Out—to free CrossFit!"—and realized it sounded reminiscent of the language used on the dating website HowAboutWe, which encourages users to fill in the blanks on their ideal dates, and decided on a more straightforward, less copycat-y approach.

So, CrossFit. What does it have to do with dating and nightlife? Well, I can personally attest that my confidence goes up when I'm working out on the regular; between a surge of feel-good endorphins and the fact that my clothes fit a lot better, I'm more apt to have a swagger in my step after a week of grueling spin sessions than when I've resigned my post 9-5 hours to snacking and cruising the Internet for Portlandia clips. I've never taken a CrossFit class, either—the idea of hauling tires and wearing knee socks has always been a bit, hmm, intimidating—but as I pointed out in yesterday's post, it's the things that scare us that help us grow. Plus, I've got friends from New York City coming to town this weekend, and I'll need the extra energy to keep up with them, making a Saturday morning class ideal. Who knows? Maybe I'll meet a few new people, platonic or otherwise. Either way, I'm excited to try something different.

The classes, which are an hour long and will run each weekend from now until the end of February, are being held at CrossFit's Back Bay location on St. James Avenue. Pre-registration is required, which you can do here. And if you're trying to find me, just look for the woman staring quizzically when the instructor shouts out for burpees.

Making lists is one of my favorite, if strange, pastimes. There's something cathartic about the process of putting pen-to-paper that feels oh-so right, whether I’m writing out a reminder to pick up toothpaste on my way home from work or scribbling a passage directly from a book. Maybe it’s the promise of the blank page, or maybe I secretly enjoy the challenge of deciphering my own handwriting while on the hunt for toothpaste? toilet paper? trail mix?. New Year’s resolutions, though: I can take them or leave them. I usually wave them off, offering a quippy remark like, “I resolve to not resolve!” with my midnight toast come January 1. It’s easy to check off a to-do list; resolutions, I think, can set us up for failure—we aim high, and then life, as it often does, gets in the way, and soon those resolutions are forgotten, along with our plans to make this the year we take over the world. I experienced a lot of changes in 2012, though—a new job; a new apartment; friends who had babies; friendships that grew stronger or apart; a string of fizzled romances—that made me rethink the notion of setting out intentions for the year ahead, starting with the way I rang in 2013: at South Boston Yoga’s celebration class, not a champagne flute or noisemaker in sight.

Here are a few of mine, whether you call them resolutions, goals, or just things to do. I like to think of them as leaps of faith into the great unknown. And cheers!

To move beyond my comfort zone—geographically. I live in South Boston, and though there’s a number of newly-opened places in my neighborhood that have created a buzz and that I've meant to check out, I often find myself back in my old stomping grounds—Cambridge, particularly Central Square—in pursuit of late-night fun. And even though it’s just a short cab ride (or a pleasant walk on a nice day), I rarely venture into the North End, an area you could stumble into blindfolded and find a place to eat and drink (and canoodle). I fully confess that I'm a creature of habit, but what's an adventure without uncharted territory? So, Southie, you’re on my list—same goes for Union Square, Jamaica Plain, and yes, the North End.

While we're on the subject: to use public transportation more often. There are times when a cab is warranted: when it’s (literally) too late to take public transportation; when I’m in unfamiliar territory and safety seems questionable; when it’s raining sideways and my umbrella has blown inside out. Unfortunately, I’ve fallen into the routine of getting ready at the last minute, receiving texts that a date has arrived at the restaurant; should he order me a drink?—while I’m still in my apartment, running around like an animal unleashed trying to find my left shoe, apply mascara and spray perfume at the same time, just as the number 9 bus conveniently passes by. (I'm not the only one who does this, right?) I now declare cabs the exception, not the rule. My wallet, not to mention the environment, is happy to hear it.

To try online dating—maybe. I’ve got friends who rave about online dating, and friends who share horror stories about guys who look nothing like they do in their photos, or who have questionable track records, that the idea of online dating has always left a bad taste in my mouth. I'm a sucker for serendipity (I confess my dark, secret fantasy of running into the perfect guy—literally—between shelves at the library, our hands bumping into each other as we reach for the same book), and think that choosing a mate by algorithm seems highly unromantic. Since starting this blog, though, I’ve gotten a lot of emails from readers and dating experts alike, asking for my opinion on the matter—and I can't give one without the experience of being in the trenches firsthand. I'm intrigued, if a bit intimidated, and so this resolution is flagged as yellow: proceed with caution.

What are your resolutions? How will your dating life take shape in 2013? Are there new places you'd like to check out—or old ghosts you'd prefer to leave behind?

“Hi.”

Why is one of the simplest words in the English language sometimes so hard to say? Whether we’re riding the subway, walking down the street, or waiting for a drink at a crowded bar, we’re constantly surrounded with the potential to spark a conversation with strangers, and yet we hesitate, unsure of the outcome, and we pass on, nestled into the familiarity of a book, our own solidarity, a cocktail. And when it comes to matters of the heart? Those first words can be even harder. This is Boston, after all; we’re known for our (mostly) cold temperatures and cold shoulders alike.

But we know it feels like when a ‘What If?’ turned into a ‘Wow!’. We’ve all taken many first steps in our lives; it’s the only way to move forward. As one of my yoga instructors would phrase it: we have to empty out in order to fill again. (Or something like that.)

I’m not perfect, but I have a long-term relationship with adrenaline. I love the thrill that accompanies a first date, even if it ends in disaster. I like exploring different neighborhoods and the delight that comes with discovering a new-to-me restaurant. I’m a travel bug, for sure. I even enjoy going out by myself, as I chronicled in a recent story. Most of all, I enjoy sharing my experiences with my friends—and now, with the Boston.com community.

So welcome to Let’s Go Out, a place where I’ll share insider tips from my own after-dark adventures in the city, stumbles and all—and, in turn, I hope, encourage you to take your own. Sometimes, our adventures begin with a first step. Sometimes, they start with a hello.