I’m going to go on the record and admit I’m a Lady Gaga fan.  I think her music is melodic, catchy pop that’s easy for me to enjoy.  She’s a well-developed musical personality and there is a real knack to consistently making catchy chorus lines.  I like that Gaga is not merely a product of a recording label; I might be wrong, but I get the sense there’s more to her.  That being said, she can be bat spit crazy.  So that got me thinking.  It must be hard to hang out with Gaga.  To be a part of the Haus of GaGa must be a challenge to your pre-established social skills.  And that’s when it hit me…it must be even worse to have to date her.  Not because of the rumors and inuendo that surrounds her sexuality or persona, but in a real honest to goodness, “what do you do as a guy to handle that situation” type of way.

I’m not sure that standard dating activities fly when one is romantically involved with GaGa.  While going bowling, to the movies, or even to the zoo might work as a fun-filled time with a normal girl, I’m pretty sure it takes a little more to get a reaction from Ms. Germanotta.
I’ll be completely honest, I’m not sure if I could handle all the people at the bowling alley staring at her and wondering if our date was the result of some on-line essay-writing contest I’d won or some bet she lost on Malaysian monkey races.  That and I’m sure I’d be a little embarrassed after she threw the cheese sticks in the server’s face after a heated exchange about why their menu wasn’t more gluten-free.

Again, I’m not making insinuations about anyone riding the disco stick.  Taking Gaga back to the casa to chill for the evening could potentially make the relationship go sour.  After partying with the hippest celebs in Cannes, the hottest deejays in Ibiza, and male models with washboard abs in Napoli, GaGa might cringe at my unwashed Boba Fett flanel pijamas and the three day-old cookies and cream carton floating around in my bathtub. I’m also pretty dang sure Stefani Joanne isn’t as enthused as I am about watching LOST: The Final Season on DVD or catching last season’s 30 Rock or Gossip Girl season finales recorded on the old DVR.

So, assuming things go well for a few dates and you make it to a special occasion.  Maybe it’s a birthday or a holiday.  I’m not precisely sure what the occasion would call for and where you would shop for L.G.
Seriously, what is she into?  Flowers? Chocolates? Amazonian shrunken heads?  With most girls, I don’t think you can go wrong with a gift certificate to some fancy candle and soap store, but once again, this chick ain’t the girl next door.  As a suitor, in search of the perfect sweetheart gift, you’re screwed.

The only thought that is more frightening than what you get her for a special occasion, is what the heck she might get you.

Whether it’s Valentine’s Day, a birthday, or anniversary, I’m not convinced I’d know how to handle her gifts.  I’m no fashionista, but I’m sure I’d feel a little pressure to not act ignorant or closed-minded if she gave me something to wear.  I also wouldn’t want her bad-mouthing me to her entourage or comparing my lack of style to her previous beaus.  
The optimist in me would like to believe that at the worst, she’d give me a T shirt in support of the narwhal and that I’d really like it and wear it with some jeans when we go out now and then showing off to everyone how awesome and in tune with the latest trends I was. I’m sure I’d be the talk of my neighborhood Starbucks when I ran in every morning and struck up a conversation with the barista over how cool the narwhal is. I’d be like, “Narwhals are the most amazing creature to navigate the ocean.” The barista would be like, “Sir, do you mind moving to the side? There’s a line of people still waiting to place their orders.” And they all would have overheard our narwhal conversation and for a moment I’d be hippest thing at Starbucks, until they spotted the new Corinne Bailey Rae CD at the register. But I digress, the realist in me knows that instead of a tee, GaGa’s idea of a cool b-day gift would be an old Norse hat made of real narwhal tusks and worn in the middle ages by the inhabitants of the fjords in Norway. And furthermore, like a dufus, I’d wear it around town in fear of seeming ungrateful or just plain un-cultured.

And lastly, one thing that really worries me about dating Lady Gaga is the inevitable: meeting the family. After a while, things are going well, and you find yourself at the stage where a family get together comes along or some situation in which you feel obligated to bring her along. Assuming her schedule permits and there isn’t any transvestite beauty pageant in Tokyo that she needs to officiate at, then social decorum would insist that you take her to your family fete. All pleasantries aside, you might get a high-five from your cousin and maybe a look of admiration from your nieces and nephews, but the fact of the matter is grandma and pop-pop aren’t really gonna understand why she’s wearing her bra on the outside of her clothes or why she’s decided to wear a poofy Hefty trash-bag ensemble to the Easter egg hunt.