Everything I Needed to Know About Dating I Learned From Jersey Shore

Photo Credit: MTV

As the first season of Jersey Shore came to a grinding halt on Thursday, it’s hard not to reminisce about what a wild ride it’s been since the show debuted on December 4.

At this point, it’s still a little early to definitively say what the show’s true legacy will be – the Gym-Tan-Laundry trinity, the clear proof that hot tubs are aphrodisiacs, the Nickname Generator, the Michael Cera makeover, or simply The Situation’s phenomenal abdominals – but, for me, it will be several truisms that, intentional or not, slipped out of their mouths in a fog of booze-induced profanity-laced summertime rants.

It all started with Sammi – the self-proclaimed “sweetest bitch you’ll ever meet” – and her decision to literally put all of her eggs in Ronnie’s basket…despite his ironclad rule never to fall in love at the Jersey Shore. Which brings us to…

Lesson #1: There Are Plenty of Other Fish in the Sea.

For those of you who did not watch religiously: All the housemates went to a club shortly thereafter and Sammi got in a fight with Ronnie because she saw him dancing with another girl, so she retaliated by giving her number to a cop-friend and J-Woww saw and told Ronnie to go “check his girl” and then he got upset and left the club and J-Woww went after him because she didn’t want him to be alone, but then someone told Sammi that Ronnie had left with J-Woww and *she* got upset and went to the house, too, and found Ronnie and J-Woww in the same room and it was terrible (which, tragically, is precisely why Ronnie said he didn’t want to fall in love…!), but then Ronnie felt bad and followed Sammi into the guest room and they made up…and, sure, I’m not going to draw *too* many life lessons from Snooki’s housemates, but…I *did* find wisdom in Sammi’s comment when she was upset about Ronnie and the Mystery Lady (who I think ended up going home with The [poor] Situation who has abs of steel but still can’t seem to close the deal?) and she said something like, “He’s with another girl? No. That’s it. I’m done.”

I wish *I* had the gall to say, “I am amazing! If you’re stupid enough to screw things up, that’s it! You lost your chance! I’m moving on!” and really mean it. (Although…I guess taking a page from Sammi’s book could theoretically be part of the Year of Lisa…)

And, yes, after that particular episode, their relationship dramz got a little tiresome – and they may even be on the rocks now! – but in that particular moment, Sammi “Sweetheart” Giancola – who my friend described as having “the most extensive collection of jean shorts (she had) ever seen” — gave me something to think about. She’s got chutzpah. And she may actually be full of hot air (which was sort of demonstrated in the episode in which Ronnie got arrested and she repeatedly complained about having to sleep alone for the first time all summer…), but…it takes a strong sense of self to say something like that (…and to actually mean it…). And I think this There’s-Plenty-of-Other-Fish-in-the-Sea mentality is one of the best things you can take away from this show – especially if you suffer from Lisa Lacy Syndrome and repeatedly allow mancrap into your life.

And just so we’re on the same page…allow me to indulge in a brief aside to define precisely what I mean by mancrap:

Mancrap (\ˈman\ˈkrap\), noun: a man plagued by indecision who perpetuates a pattern of disrespect by weaseling his way into your affections with no intention of ever playing a significant role in your life but who is nevertheless unwilling to let go of you completely, forcing you, after needless heartache, to cut him off in order to get him out of your system and to heal yourself and move on.

And then I read a story that described the women of Jersey Shore as a new wave of feminism…and despite all the comments arguing otherwise, I thought it was a really intriguing premise. Not so much the point about Sammi, Snooki and J-Woww upending standard portrayals of Italian-American women — which I also think is an interesting argument — but rather the simple fact that these are independent ladies (sing it, Beyonce), for better or worse, who are always watching out for #1…or, as the Daily Beast post put it, “They are not women who are defined by, or in the service of, the guidos and goombahs around them.”

And, sure, it may seem trashy at times…and I’m certainly not arguing that anyone extract any broad life lessons here. But for any woman ever faced with mancrap, I think there are worse things than following the example of the ladies of Jersey Shore…to a degree.

Lesson #2: Don’t Stalk Him.

I don’t want to sound like a broken record after my Bachelor post…but…I think we can also learn something from Danielle and Pauly D…if anyone didn’t already know that showing up unannounced and calling repeatedly is ill-advised in a fledgling relationship.

I mean, this chick clearly dug her own grave. But…at the same time, I felt a little sorry for her.

Don’t get me wrong – I was cringing as much as the next guy when she showed up time after time on the Boardwalk and quizzed Pauly about his ladyfriends…but…I’ve certainly been in situations before in which I’ve totally clicked with somebody…and I always let my imagination run wild and zoom years into the future and plan our wedding and name our children before he’s even called to actually confirm his interest. Sure, it’s a little crazy…but there’s something fun at the beginning when there’s actually the possibility that maybe it will turn out to be good and he won’t just be mancrap…and, you know, it’s equally enjoyable to replay the various threads of conversation you had with him in that spectacular moment when you met…and then share them with girlfriends over brunch and giggle about how ridiculously happy you are going to be because he’s totally going to call – why wouldn’t he call? (He has to call…)

And, you know, I bake. So…sorta like Giulia Melucci writes in I Loved, I Lost, I Made Spaghetti — “Whenever I start dating someone new, I just can’t hold back. No matter how often my girlfriends warn me, ‘Take it slow, let him win you over, don’t give it away so quickly,’ I just can’t resist – I have to cook for him…” — I want to bake for him. And it is *especially* hard when he says that he likes something specific like oatmeal raisin cookies or flourless chocolate cake. It’s almost impossible for me not to immediately run to Met Foods as fast as my legs will carry me and stock up on enough ingredients to make that particular dish repeatedly for the rest of our natural lives. It is similarly difficult not to show up at a predetermined meeting point with a giant Tupperware container filled with said baked good. And, you know, to me, it seems like such a harmless thing to do – Who doesn’t like it when someone makes them cookies? “Food made with loving intention is spiritual.” I read that recently somewhere. And yet somehow I always end up as the Sad Sally with giant Tupperware begging mancrap to love her. And whether it’s because he has a girlfriend or because he has weird emotional hang-ups — it’s always one of the two — it never works out. And so maybe I should impose a rule like “No Baking Before the Third Date” (Lesson #2.5?)…to ensure I’ve at least gotten three square meals out of it before giving up any sweets.

It’s sorta the same thing with Danielle. She never should have made that shirt for Pauly. And, sure, it was nice to do in theory and I’m sure her heart was in the right place…and she tried to be nonchalant about it, saying, “Don’t say I never gave you anything,” because I suspect she secretly knew it was too much. And it’s too bad she didn’t have a girlfriend or two to tell her to take a deep breath and to hold off on shirt-making for awhile…and to not follow him on the Boardwalk or call obsessively…at least until he upped the ante a bit.

And, you know, Pauly made complete sense and sounded totally rational…which, until now, I would have argued is virtually impossible for that freedom-loving gender. But he told her he’d call when he got home…and he may very well have meant it. And I totally understand that it’s hard to be the one who has to wait for a particular course of action to take place before you can actually do anything yourself. And part of me feels like in this day and age you shouldn’t have to wait. But…I’ve found being proactive isn’t a very good strategy…and that you really *do* have to play the game whether you want to or not. Or maybe I’m an exception to the rule. I think the combo of my high-pitched voice and natural propensity for excessive nervousness really squashes any possibility of nonchalance. And I guess that’s one more reason why it’s important to have a full life and to be happy with yourself so that a phone call from Mr. Wonderfulpants isn’t the only thing you have to look forward to in life…and it’s just sort of a nice bonus. (“Oh, hi…yeah…sorry I didn’t call you back. I’ve been out of town on my book tour…”)

Lesson #3: “It’s Called, ‘Fuck You…’”

Photo Credit: The Hollywood Gossip

And, you know, like most of America, I think Snooki is my favorite…I want to say she exudes a certain confidence…but, then again, I’m not sure if I think she *is* truly confident deep down inside. Then again (again), she’s – what? – 22? Maybe deep-down confidence is one of those things you grow into. But, regardless, there’s something kind of endearing about her that Sammi and J-Woww certainly don’t possess. And, at the same time, she’s still sassy…and while I certainly wouldn’t be willing to do backflips at a nightclub to expose my thong alongside her, she seems like she’d be a fun person to go out with…in a parallel universe where I get to fraternize with reality stars.

I bring up Snooki specifically because I know how much it sucks to be alone sometimes and I admire *her* chutzpah for cutting ties with Keith so quickly instead of giving him repeated chances not to be aloof and stupid and mancrap. “I don’t chase guys,” she says. And then, “I’m not going to sit around at home like a lonely loser.” Sing it, sister.

And…even though The Situation has been kind of a jerk in the past, I still think there’s something about him (and it is perhaps that Sammi broke him early on and he never fully recovered!) and that he’s not such a bad guy. In fact, I thought it was super-sweet when Snooki was crying about her ex-boyfriend and The Situation said, “Listen, if a guy doesn’t like you, it’s called, ‘Fuck you,’ and there’s so many people in the world who’s gonna like you for you.”

It’s like there was a chorus of angels behind him! That’s it! That’s precisely it!

Granted, it’s a little He’s Just Not That Into You…but it’s still such a brilliant concept no matter how you slice it! If mancrap ever disrespects you, you curse at him and let him go and move on! It’s a simple theory – and yet one that could help avoid so much needless heartache.

Lesson #4: No More Mancrap.

One last point about the final hot tub scene that hit particularly close to home. The Situation and Snooki got suited up and then a coy, inebriated Snickers asked him to help secure her bikini top…which he of course ended up unsecuring…and then little Snooki was nekkid and they indulged in one last hurrah.

And…I don’t want to get anyone in trouble with his girlfriend or any of the other people we have in common, so I won’t point fingers in any specific direction…but I found myself in a similar situation last summer. Except that instead of a string bikini, I was wearing the old lady suit I mentioned in my Bachelor post. And I don’t necessarily know if I’d dub the Situation full-on mancrap, but my naked friend with the girlfriend who was so keen on creating his own Hot Tub Magic most certainly *is* deserving of the moniker – and, you know, I didn’t say what I should have said in the moment and rather laughed off the episode as yet another in my long history of social awkwardness.

But…as I watched Snooki and The Situation, I couldn’t help but think of that night again. And, you know, Snooki was obviously getting flirty, asking The Situation to fix her suit. And then she asked him to kiss her. I, however, never did anything like that. And I started to get belatedly outraged…like, you know, if The Man Who Called Himself My Friend needs a chick on the side for Hot Tub Magic, Snooki is the kind of girl he should have on the side for Hot Tub Magic. Not me. I am the girl who baked him pies. And those baked goods were the tip of the iceberg of pathetically nice things I did for him. And what did it get me? At best, a dude who was vaguely creepy and fluttered about on the fringes of my life for 18 months while plagued by indecision…and at worst who was downright cruel, considering my feelings for him. Either way — not cool.

But. That was in 2009. This is ’10. And while I still don’t suck faces off in hot tubs or wear hats that say, “Pornstar in Training,” or fellate pickles…I *can* say to him (very indirectly and virtually), “Fuck you and there’s so many people in the world who’s gonna like me for me.”

(Thanks, Sitch.)