Dating Bradford: When Can I Fart?

"Excuse me," said the woman with big hair and in need of lipstick, "I have to ask, when is it okay to fart?

"Uh, well . . . This is a crowded party; perhaps out on the smoking deck?" I offered in response.

Dating Bradford: The Concubine Questionnaire

The other night I joined my friend Truitt at a movie premiere. It was a small private affair with lots of incognito celebrities pretending not to be noticed -- the kind you only get invited to if you are involved in the movie, or sleeping with someone who is. In this case, Truitt was sleeping with the executive producer with no strings attached. No strings attached to each other, I should say, because they each have steady boyfriends.

Dating Bradford: Edging Your Bets

At the poolside bar of SoHo House, my date turned to me and said, "You know what I hate? It's that guys always put too much emphasis on coming. It's either when am I going to, how can they get me to or why don't I want to."

"Wait," I said, "Uh, do I have pool water in my ear, or did you just pooh-pooh the pop-a-roo? Why wouldn't you want to come when having sex?"