Its Just Lunch

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Check out what the media is saying about It’s Just Lunch. (Spoiler alert: Very good things!)

Secrets to Making Every First Date Less Awkward


By Emily Rekstis

The world is round. The sun always rises and sets. And first dates can be awkward. It's just the way of life. So what is it that makes first dates so weird? "Fear of the unknown, fear of being rejected," says Irene LaCota of dating site It's Just Lunch. While there are ways to make things less uncomfortable, even the concept of a first date leads to inevitable awkwardness. "You're so new to each other that you don't have any common ground yet," therapist Jill Whitney explains. "You're both aware that you're evaluating each other. You're both trying to strike a balance between making a good impression and being your authentic self. With all this going on, of course things can be awkward."

It can seem hard, maybe even impossible to avoid, but it's not. I talked to psychologists and relationship experts to get their secrets on how to truly release awkwardness and tension. Hopefully with these 10 secrets, both of you will be able to enjoy each other's company and conversation. Hey, it might even lead to date number two!

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Sexpert Dr. Ruth Reveals the Sex Myth She Wants to Bust Once and for All


By Marnie Sehayek

Are the internet and apps helping or hurting dating, sex and relationships?

I’m all for people using any media in order to not be lonely. I think a dating program like It’s Just Lunch is a great idea. But I want to warn people to be careful with the internet, because some people can say that they are 6 feet tall and look like a movie star — fitting for Los Angeles — but you don’t have any guarantee that people have been honest. Never meet someone for the first time in a secluded area. Meet in the lobby of a hotel or in any other public place.

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“It’s not you, it’s me:” Some behaviors you might want to bust to avoid another breakup


By Trisha Bee

MILWAUKEE -- Have you ever heard these words: It's not you, it's me? What if it really is you?! Local matchmaker Katie Schmidt with "It's Just Lunch" joins Real Milwaukee with the top five most overlooked relationship killers.

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Finding Mr. or Mrs. Right... or left


Cory Hepola, KARE

The dating scene is always difficult to navigate, but a highly-charged election season makes it even more so.

Rule #32: Don't talk politics on a first date.

This may seem like common knowledge, but - if you like someone - when should you start talking politics if it's really important to you? "So, on a first date you don't want to talk religion, past relationships, or anything about politics. It's too personal. People feel really confronted. They feel like you're being a little aggressive. You need to keep that for a fourth, fifth, or sixth date," says Stephanie Kluver, a matchmaker with "It's Just Lunch."

But, what happens if you fall for someone who lines up ideologically opposed to you?

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A Field Guide to Male Intimacy


Modern Love

When my car’s battery died on a bitterly cold January day, my father refused to come to my apartment in south Minneapolis to give me a jump. He drives a Tesla and claimed (not quite accurately) that using it to power a regular car would cause it to short-circuit. “Plus, it’s nasty outside,” he said, “and, as you know, your father is a wuss.” Luckily my stepfather, Kevin, agreed to help. He is bald, clean-shaven, slender, friendly and handy. An agricultural engineer, he has a master’s degree in weed science and subscribes to journals such as “Wheat Life.” He always knows what time it is. “I’ll be there in 15 minutes,” he said. He arrived at my apartment in 15 minutes. I thought this would be my chance, finally, to impress him. The winter before, I had called him in distress when my car had blown a tire. I didn’t know how to change it, and he had to do it for me, kneeling in the cold on the side of a busy street. He had also, at various points, fixed leaks in my kitchen and helped me assemble (that is, he assembled) a desk from Ikea. Around him I felt inept, and although we are polite to each other (kind, even), my sense is that he views me as his wife’s hapless son, part of the bargain of marrying her. I did know how to jump a car, however, and now made a demonstration of setting the cables in place. “The red clamp’s on the positive terminal,” I said with authority. Kevin fixed the corresponding clamps to his truck’s battery and said, “Let’s give it a go.” I prayed that the jump would work and that my competence would be established evermore. Outside my window, Kevin gave a rather solemn thumbs-up. I turned the key. The engine sputtered, didn’t engage. I tried again. Nothing. “Looks like you’ll need a new battery,” Kevin said. He and my mother met seven years ago through a dating service called It’s Just Lunch. They discovered common interests in hiking and wine. They went on trips to vineyards, first in rural Minnesota, then to Napa Valley and the Oregon coast. On their hikes, they wore clothes with many pockets and zippers. In the evenings, they visited wineries. Within a year, they were engaged. I was relieved when they married. My mother had spent the previous several years in a muddle. A decade before, without warning, my father had informed her that he was gay, and their marriage dissolved. The future she had expected (simply, to be with him) also dissolved. In its place was nothing. I was 16 at the time, and for my last two years of high school, we lived alone. For her, it was an era of bathrobes, insomnia, Sleepytime tea, Kleenex, rationalization (“everything happens for a reason”), reheated leftovers and worry. Kevin appeared as a steady arm. My relationship with him has evolved slowly and sometimes awkwardly. We’re members of the same gym and sometimes see each other in the locker room. If we’re both naked, we make a point of speaking, as if doing so will shield us from the mild embarrassment of our nudity, from the Oedipal drama once removed. Our talk is stilted, crisp: “Hey! How are you?” “Good.” “Good!” “O.K. Good to see you.” “Yes!” (Exclamations are mine.) But in truth, this is how we always are. If we’re out to dinner or happen to meet in the grocery store, we still act as if we’re naked in the locker room. Now, I wondered how we might get my car to a repair shop to have the battery replaced. Kevin made it known we would be changing it ourselves.

From the back of his truck he took out his toolbox. “Yup, it’s always with me,” he said. The heads of wrenches and screwdrivers shone inside as if they had never been used. No, it was as if they had been used often but cleaned extremely well.

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