F- in sarcasm, and other OKCupid fails

online-dating-explained

My friend is trying OKCupid again, and we’re keeping official stats this time as a mini study. And we’ll get back to you with the semi-sort-of-official results in a couple of weeks, but in the interim, here’s what she has to work with:

1st message:

Perfect cuddle size? That could also be described as fun size or bite size. :-X

You have strawberry blonde hair which probably means that sunblock is your best friend, but can pull off wearing warm colors like beige and orange. That’s all I got for that. What else is unique to you about being a ginger?

Where are you going for the hot air balloon ride? Are you doing that in NH?

Comparing her to what I can only assume is a candy bar and then talking about colors that match her hair? Can we say…WTF? As she said to me over G-Chat:

I CAN PULL OFF BEIGE? What the what? That’s not a compliment – “you look good in bland brown colors.”

Look, I get it – first messages can be awkward and it can take you four hours to construct the four most perfect sentences you’ve ever written, only to get no response (which is why I gave up) so I am not saying I can do any better. But, you have to give us something to work with here. Also, I don’t want to get into grammatical snobbery, but the second sentence is structured as if the sunblock can pull off those colors, not my friend. I believe we call that a misplaced modifier? (No wonder I’m alone).

She did not respond, so he sent a second message:

For some reason, I am going to take a stab in the dark and guess that you’ve had excellent luck on this site finding someone who’s incredibly gorgeous and everything else you’ve ever dreams of. 😉

She and I felt it was dripping in passive aggressive sarcasm, however others disagree.

Either way, we have yet another example of how awkward online dating can be – can some people who have met significant others this way offer some tips??

Bitch, please, edition: I AM EXHAUSTED

My friend Melissa sent me a link to this book on Amazon.com today and asked me to blog about it…in a bad way. Um, challenge accepted.

The book, Get Married This Year: 365 Days to “I Do”, is just a pile of nonsense and preying on the girls who think they have to be married by a certain age (i.e. me, five years ago).

Here is the description:

Forget waiting for Mr. Right! You can go out and find “The One” yourself when you follow this plan. Celebrated relationship expert Dr. Janet Blair Page has distilled the very best of her acclaimed dating class at Emory University—the one covered by CNN, FOX, Good Morning America, and The Early Show—into this one-of-a-kind book. She’s helped bring thousands of singles true love—and now it’s your turn!

Your To-Do List This Year:

  • Today: Get to know yourself.
  • Next Month: Figure out what you really want from your man.
  • Month 3: Learn how to get out of your own way.
  • Month 6: Take the field and find the right guy.
  • Month 10: Make the big decision.
  • Month 12: Get married!

The power is yours—and with Dr. Page’s guidance, you’ll use that power to meet and marry your Perfect Guy. From designing the ultimate Spouse Shopping List to getting the right guy to commit, this tried-and-true method gives you the blueprint you need to take charge of your love life and find love that can last a lifetime—in only 12 months or less!

BITCH, PLEASE: You think that someone can get to know themselves in a day/week/month? I’ve been in therapy for eight fucking years (on and off) and I still don’t know myself. I do stupid things, and fall for the wrong people (as much as I don’t want to), and how the fuck do you suggest I can fix that in 30-fucking days?? FUCK OFF.

Not only that, she only factors in six months between finding the right guy and getting married. Planning a wedding can take more than six months, let alone finding someone and knowing within in four that you want to marry them. What the FUCK is your problem, lady? All your stupid ass book is going to do is increase the divorce rate when people rush to the altar after taking your stupid fucking advice.

And what is with the shopping list? Men are not avocados, and you cannot hand pick the perfect one, you stupid bitch.

But, there’s more!

There are three main sections to the book, what you are doing wrong, beginning the search and on the road to happily ever after. There are numerous worksheets, self-assessment quizzes, lists such as the spouse shopping list and numerous suggests for self-reflection included throughout the book. There are also short “Love Notes” and “Love Stories” that are fun and interesting.

BITCH, PLEASE: You honestly think a fucking worksheet is going to solve my problem? I ALREADY KNOW WHAT I AM DOING WRONG AND A WORKSHEET IS NOT THE ANSWER. I hate you.

One of the most unique concepts Page describes is the “Love Resume” used to create a catalog of past relationships. Each chapter begins with a myth and a truth phrase. One sample is that the right person will complete you, the myth. The truth, the right person will be a good match for the person you happen to be.

BITCH, PLEASE: A love resume? Really? I mean, okay fine, I am writing a book of “love resumes” but it is to make fun of myself for being a dumbass, I’m not using past fuckery to use towards future happiness. The past is the past and we know what we did wrong, and we don’t need a fucking worksheet for your fucking truth vs. myths.

It is no surprise that people who bought this book also bought Patti Stanger’s, which basically has the exact same title.

Now if you will excuse me, I am off to chug some vino.

Bitch, Please – the “why do you exist?” edition

Yesterday, this post, Female ‘Purity’ Is Bullshit from Jezebel was making its rounds – I skimmed it, because while I do like the site, they tend to sometimes be very wordy and wax a bit too philosophical for my taste. However, I understood the rage, so decided to read the original piece that Lindy West was (rightfully) ranting about.

So basically some anonymous dude too scared to attach his inane ramblings to a name said that all women are worthless sluts. I think. His piece is titled Why Good Girls Have Become As Extinct As Unicorns. We haven’t even gotten to the text before the first Bitch, please. (Also, the grammatical errors – discuss)

Bitch, please: For something to be extinct, it needs to have actually existed and I BELIEVE that unicorns are mythical creatures. So, basically, you’re a fucking dumb-ass.

PointSure you can call it generation YOLO and women seizing the moment and just living life and having fun like they like to call it, but it just leaves me hoping I never end up with a daughter. nowadays values are corrupted and it’s seems its all about having fun: the quick sex, the quick thrill and the terrible Facebook photos that you get tagged in the next day, but there has to be some sort of a line.

Bitch, please: So, we’re not allowed to have fun? And what do YOU, Mr. Fuckwit, know about values, given what you’re writing? I already have a headache. Did you write this as some sort of parody, or was it supposed to be serious? If it was supposed to be serious, I suggest that you go back in time to live with apes and unicorns. Also this “line” that you speak of…what would you know about lines? As Joey Tribiani once said, you’re so far over the line, the line is a dot to you.

Point: For men, it’s great that these women have decided to become just like us. They’ve taken the male approach to sex and the way we treat the other gender. It is almost like they have become a mirror image of men in our love for a multitude of partners. This is great, because it cuts out a lot of the hard work that men used to have to go through to woo a woman to get what they ultimately want.

Bitch, please: Your logic is so mind-numbingly non-existent, I actually think I lost IQ points reading this.

You don’t want us to be sluts without morals, but your only goal is to sleep with us – that’s kind of a conundrum for you, yes? Blow up dolls exist because of guys like you. Go buy one.

Point: Sure women have become independent, which is a great feat and should constantly be encouraged, but that is the positive side of women rising to power in our society. With every pro there happens to be a con, and the con here is that most of these women have completely lost all respect for themselves, and their morals along the way.

Bitch, please: Praising us and then bashing us in the same breath. You should be more concerned about YOUR morals rather than ours. I suspect that your penis is the size of a golf pencil and having sex with you would be like bumper cars, so now you’re all bitter. You’re being so extreme with the offensive stereotypes, I thought I would have some fun and do the same.

Point: They’ve become thirsty for attention, from posting half naked photos on Instagram to having their whole lives exposed on the internet, through the course of hashtags. Then you have drugs, cocaine and molly being predominant, and many women addicted to prescription pills to help their “anxiety.” In short, women have become easy, but they have also become broken — and eventually become undesirable because no one stays hot forever.

Bitch, please: This is oddly specific. I am not addicted to drugs, nor are any of my friends, nor are we posting half-naked duck face selfies on Instagram. And no one stays hot forever, huh? We’re back to those elusive morals you speak of. If you had them, you would realize physical beauty has nothing to do with anything. You’ve seen Beauty and the Beast, right?

Point: Sure we men are to blame for this as well, but that is because we are idiots. It all comes down to perception. Women see us drool over that hot girl that is standing half naked in her default picture or see us go wild when we easily get the number to a hot girl we just met on the street. To a man’s perception this seems “right” because it’s exactly what we want: sex without much effort. But for women from the outside looking in, they think that this is what we want, and it skews their perception.

Bitch, please: Wow, your admission of stupidity is the first smart thing that you’ve said! And then you go right back off the rails. Contradicting yourself in back-to-back sentences. Let me try to pretend you’re in kindergarten (though that is an insult to a 5-year old’s intelligence) and spell this out for you in a way you can understand. FIRST, you said all you ever want to eat for snack is apples (all men want is sex without effort). THEN you said you couldn’t understand why girls share their apples with you, which they are doing because you said you liked them (we’re all sluts). NEXT, you threw the apple into the garbage disposal because you don’t WANT our apples (you don’t understand why we think all men want is sex without effort when in the previous sentence you said all men want is sex without effort – BUT NOT FROM A SLUT). You get an F- in logic, and in life.

Point: Good girls gone bad, the city is filled with them to paraphrase the great Jay-Z. The problem is that it’s not just the city, but society as a whole. Men are to blame for this because we encourage such behavior and give these girls the attention they want when they are dressed up like complete retards at EDM shows and when they are in their bikinis on Instagram. But women are also to blame in giving this artificial persona of what men call hot or not.

Bitch, please: You’ve lost me. Furthermore, what city do you live in? You should also know that you are coming off as more bitter than I am, and that’s hard. Some girl did a number on you. You’re fooling no one (except maybe yourself).

Point: Sure I’m an asshole that loves to take advantage of women who are willing to bang me without me having to offer too much, but at the same time I am also a gentleman that knows how to treat a lady with respect and compassion just like any other true lady should be treated.

Bitch, please: My eyes just rolled so far back I think they fell out. You…I can’t….I CAN’T EVEN FORM COMPLETE THOUGHTS. What is your definition of a true lady? How have you demonstrated that you’re a gentleman? If you want to just fuck around, fine, but don’t then come at us with the, “I have no other choice,” logic, since you apparently have girls flinging themselves at you left and right. Do not try to convince us you are a gentleman – just own the fact that you are a horrible person with no intelligence or morals or intelligence and get on with your life.

Point: The truth of the matter is that you can’t change women that are already broken, so those are the ones that men use for exactly what we want: sex with no strings attached. Because it’s easy and it’s right in front of us. But at some point in time, through the course of our lives, we are going to grow out of chasing someone that has been with everyone. Sure being a bachelor is fun and all, the stories are great, bragging to our friends is epic, but we are eventually going to want more out of a female than just sex.

Bitch, please: Oh PLEASE. Since when does not being a virgin (it’s all or nothing with you, isn’t it??) equal being broken? Also, as West puts it: Everyone makes unhealthy choices sometimes. Life is long and complex. Everyone has sex with partners they regret, and strays out of their comfort zone for the wrong reasons, and enters into self-destructive relationships with the best intentions. But those choices are unhealthy for the person making them, not for anyone else. And those choices have no bearing whatsoever on anyone’s worth as a human being. Sometimes perspective, born out of pain, can actually make life richer. Your good choices are yours and your bad choices are yours too. You’re trying to justify being a giant man-whore by blaming us for making the idiotic choice of sleeping with you. Yes, I definitely think you are who I would go to for love advice.

PointThat is when we want to settle down, but with a lady who has respect for herself, morals — and there isn’t one guy out there that can have a bad story to tell about her — like the time she had a threesome in a London hostel while studying abroad.

Bitch, Please: Again – oddly specific to the point where I think you were fine until your girlfriend had a threesome in a London hostel and broke you. Which means you are beyond repair. Check fucking mate.

Point: Because of the double standard that is in place between men and women, finding a girl of this nature wasn’t that hard decades ago because women actually held high standards for themselves and demanded men to treat them properly before they gave them what they wanted.

Bitch, Please: So you want someone with no bad stories or experiences? You might regret that decision when this becomes your sex life:

Point: The truth of the matter nowadays is that good girls, as we like to call them, don’t really exist. They are unicorns. You are lucky if you come across one that is actually who she says she is. We sometimes even joke that our future wives are currently in Kindergarten because it is comforting to know that she is currently playing with blocks and not swinging from dick to dick because they sell her a good enough story. And when she’s 18 we’ll snap her right up and she’ll have no exposure to being a slut.

Bitch, Please: At least you have finally admitted unicorns don’t exist. Other than that…I hate to break it to you but not all 18-year old girls are virgin and the farther down you knock the age you want to snap them up at…well, I don’t even want to go there.

Point: Men are going to want to settle down with a good girl, a girl that is respectable and not someone that has been with everyone — as that is every man’s fear. The older you get, the more you realize that it is a fantasy that doesn’t actually exist. When you actually meet one, you will refuse to admit she’s real anyways.

Bitch, Please: What is your definition of “everyone?” Is one too many? This brings me back to the blow up doll. Please just get one and promise me you will never reproduce. I am begging you. Otherwise, you will end up like this:

Point: My question is what happened to a girl impressing us with her intellect and being able to hold a conversation past: do you come here often? Why has it become the standard that women have to impress men by flashing their tits or dressing up half naked? Sure we may seem dumb when we are chasing smuts, but when we do actually want to settle down with a female, she has to meet the standards that we have for a girl with whom we want to settle down.

Bitch, Please: I’ve lost the will to argue with you anymore. You cannot be saved.

Point: Through my experiences, as well as the experiences of many other men, it’s hard to come across a good girl or a unicorn. We’re not asking for much here, just a girl that respects herself and is smart to the point where she would understand us.

Bitch, Please: No one will ever understand you because you make no fucking sense!

Point: But then there is the other side of the spectrum, that when we do actually find a unicorn and settle down, our ego gets a bit ahead of ourselves and we find them a bit too boring for our liking, so we decide to cheat. It’s like a double-edged sword. You realize it wasn’t getting the unicorn, but rather attracting something you thought never existed. It always is about the chase and never about the perfection of the woman. And that is the mindset of men in the 21st century.

What we look for is a lady on the street and a freak in the bed, as Ludacris once explained. The problem is that most girls are freaks everywhere, which leaves us with fewer options when trying to settle down. Unicorns are tough to find, and if you do stumble upon one, do everything in your power to hold onto her, as the chase is only fun for so long — and we do have a sense of compassion and companionship we like to share with a partner.

Those are the natural instincts of a man. Ladies, men are not going to respect you if you don’t respect yourselves. It’s that simple.

Bitch, Please: Annnnnd we’re back to the unicorns. Now you’re saying the woman you want isn’t good enough after a while and you’re going to cheat?????? YOU ARE LITERALLY THE WORST PERSON ON THE PLANET RIGHT NOW AND I HAVE ONLY ONE MESSAGE FOR ANY GIRL THAT COMES NEAR YOU:

I know many women who respect themselves  but I can most assuredly say not only do you not understand the concept of respect, you don’t understand the concept of life.

Bitch, please, part infinity

A couple of weeks ago we were subjected to the inane ramblings of a Princeton mom, one Susan Patton, who encouraged all Ivy League undergrad ladies to be professional husband hunters, while their male counterparts had to do NOTHING except let the ladies flock to them, because this is apparently 1925. And do it before you graduate, lest you be stuck with an undesirable!

What’s funny is that her letter to the editor created such a shit storm of anger, Ms. Patton felt the need to clarify, which she did via the Huffington Post. Here are the key excerpts:

I sincerely feel that too much focus has been placed on encouraging young women only to achieve professionally. I understand that this can be seen as retrogressive, but for those women who aspire to what used to be thought of as a traditional life with home and family, there is almost no ink addressing personal fulfillment outside of the workplace. Specifically, finding lifelong friends and the right partner with whom to share a life and raise a family.

Okay, fine, but women who aspire to have a husband and family can still find one after college rather than during.

Again, I understand that all women don’t want marriage (to men or other women) and or children, but for those that do, identifying the right partner is critical. One of the criteria by which I am defining the right partner is someone with shared educational and intellectual appreciation. Yes, that can be found after college and outside of Princeton, but the concentration of outstanding men (and women) will never be greater than it is as a student. I wanted to encourage the wonderful young women on Princeton’s campus to take advantage of this while they can. From a sheer numbers perspective, the odds will never be as good again.

Okay, she’s going off the rails again. I agree that it is important to some people to marry their intellectual equal, though how that is defined varies, and that’s okay. I see that in myself – wanting to ultimately find someone who is smart and ambitious and doesn’t like, do unprofessional things like walk into an office to resign without notice for no apparent reason. I am sure Ms. Patton considers me inferior because I went to (GASP) a STATE SCHOOL and therefore am only deserving of someone who grunts as his main form of communication. Intelligence comes in many forms and I am GLAD I have not restricted myself to such a narrow definition of it that Ms. Patton has: ivy league educated.

The popularity of Nikki Mueller’s video (I Went to Princeton, Bitch) comically attests to the difficulty Princeton women face from men who are threatened by their academic credentials. It doesn’t address how unsatisfying it is for exceptionally well educated women to be with men who are not their intellectual equal. I am divorced. I did not marry a Princeton man. I wish I had.

Isn’t that lovely – once again bashing her ex-husband because he didn’t go to her precious alma mater.

Also, guys who are intimidated by a woman’s academic credentials belong in the same decade as Ms. Patton (one that has been over for 80 years).

Now, before I come off as some self-righteous, bitter, hag (too late, you say? OOPS), let me be clear that I know and love numerous couples that met in college. What I take offense to is Ms. Patton passing that off as a necessity to a successful life and credible advice.

Which brings me to my next bitch, Julia Shaw, who wrote, “I married young. What are the rest of you waiting for?

Again, my issue is not with people who get married young, it is with Shaw, and her seemingly pigeon-holed view that her way is the only way, and the rest of us are wasting away being single.  Shaw writes:

I’m a married millennial. I walked down the aisle at 23. My husband, David, was 25. We hadn’t arrived. I had a job; he, a job offer and a year left in law school. But we couldn’t buy a house or even replace the car when it died a few months into our marriage. We lived in a small basement apartment, furnished with secondhand Ikea. We did not have Internet (checking email required a trip to the local coffee shop) or reliable heat.

I hate to break this to her, but that would have occurred whether she was married or not. For those of you not named Taylor Swift, who was rolling in money at age 23? I lived in a shitty apartment, had a shitty job and went out to the same shitty bars in the same shitty town. Oh, and shock of shocks, Shaw met her husband in college. She and Ms. Patton should write a book together! I imagine it would be called, “Dating in the 1920’s – why it’s the best!”

Anyway, Shaw goes on:

Marriage wasn’t something we did after we’d grown up—it was how we have grown up and grown together. We’ve endured the hardships of typical millennials: job searches, job losses, family deaths, family conflict, financial fears, and career concerns. The stability, companionship, and intimacy of marriage enabled us to overcome our challenges and develop as individuals and a couple. We learned how to be strong for one another, to comfort, to counsel, and to share our joys and not just our problems.

Okay, fine, and that’s great for you, but it doesn’t work that way for everyone. Some people get married young and grow apart, rather than closer. Some grow with their friends, while being single, in a fun town, without having to answer to anyone, and you can make enough bad decisions to warrant writing a book. So there!

This next paragraph is gold. And by gold, of course my eyes almost ROLLED OUT OF MY HEAD WHILE READING IT:

What I did not realize was how thoroughly marriage would jump-start our independence. On paper, our unmarried peers looked more carefree. But many of them also relied on their parents to supplement their income, drove home for long weekends and holidays, or stayed on their parents’ health insurance and cellphone plans (even though they had decent jobs!). I put David on my health insurance. We bought our own family cellphone plan and Netflix account. When we visited our parents once a year, we paid for the plane tickets and still did our own laundry. We loved our parents and siblings, but marriage made us realize that we were now a separate family unit.  

OH MY GOD, WOMAN. So you’re saying our options are either being married or totally dependent on our parents? I will have you know, LADY, that aside from the occasional emergency loan, I have not relied on my parents financially since college. And implying that people cannot do it themselves unless they’re married is just offensive and totally wrong.

Sometimes people delay marriage because they are searching for the perfect soul mate. But that view has it backward. Your spouse becomes your soul mate after you’ve made those vows to each other in front of God and the people who matter to you. You don’t marry someone because he’s your soul mate; he becomes your soul mate because you married him.

Wow, that’s deep. Thanks for that. That’s how people in arranged marriages probably feel. Is it so wrong to want to wait and meet the right person? Or not get married at ALL? JESUS.

Getting married young is great for some and disastrous to others.

One of my friends said to me once, “just so you know, you’ll probably be 35 and single.”

  1. He meant it as an insult
  2. He said this to me when I was 27 or 28
  3. Why is this still considered an insult?

Sure, I feel the need to battle against my impending spinster-status. I don’t know if my recent anti-marriage rants are genuine or if it’s me resigning myself to what I perceive as my fate to be single forever. But that’s my own issue. And I don’t appreciate these women and their gloating disguised as love advice.

Fun with G-Chat

google_talk_large-thumb-615x291-94195

Ah GMail – it is a wonderful thing. It auto-archives all my chats and between that and me keeping all e-mails, I now have about 400 million options of WTF to pick from for the book. Of course, not everything can go in there, but some chats are just too good not to at least talk about. So I now present to you, “Fun with GChat, 2009”:

Scene One:

Me: yeah he is definitely being shady

Anon: my friends are telling me to drop him like a hot potato. I don’t think that’s necessarily fair. I don’t think it’s a lost cause. I agree that he’s being an idiot and shady as hell, but I’ve been there, sort of, and if he ever gets his head out of his ass I think it will be worth the trouble. Just, you know, hoping that actually happens.

AND, SCENE.

Okay, what we have here is a lot of excuses and a lot of over analyzing. But what we DO NOT have is someone to say, “Hey, he’s being shady. End of story. Let’s go with: this is not and never will be worth the trouble.” Or if we did have that, we wouldn’t listen anyway.

Scene Two, a continuation:

Me: yeah. Then again you also don’t want to catch him on the rebound. Those never end well. For example, me & Dr. Evil.

Anon: true enough

Me: I love how at your party, in front of Beth, Ben was like, “we’ve both seen Dr. Evil’s Mini-Me”.

Anon: OMFG, that was hilarious.

Me: I know it totally was, but poor Beth was probably like this girl is a WHORE, and then with Ben talking about the strip club, all that’s getting back to John Doe, I would almost guarantee.

Anon: well so what?! Let it!

Me: well, you remember the game telephone, right? I whisper: I have a crush on Pat and by the end it turns into Turtle sex is funny. So this will be like an innocent story gone awry, by the time it gets back to him I will have done a body shot off a stripper’s cleavage before having a threesome in the back room.

AND, SCENE.

What we have here is a disaster. Let’s do this in bullets, it’s easier:

  • Issue 1 = Beth. Beth was a girl I met at a party John Doe and his roommates had one weekend. Because he was nice to her, I immediately felt that if I befriended her, he would in turn be nice to me and realize how amazing I am. False, false and more false. Plus Beth was a nice girl, but one of the most boring people on the planet.
  • Issue 2 = Our friend Ben talking about Dr. Evil (another story for another day) in front of Beth, which involved me going to a strip club with Dr. E the first night we met. BUT I THOUGHT WE WERE ON OUR WAY TO A BAR. Not to mention we were in the middle of nowhere, Wisconsin, so I was pretty much stranded. However, after that, I can say that strip clubs are not all that big of a deal. Yawn.
  • Issue 3 = Fearing and hoping at the same time this story would get back to John Doe. So many issues, so little time.
  • Issue 4 = See issues 1-3.

Scene Three:

After discovering I correctly predicted two friends would end up dating:

Me: since I seem to be able to sense these things, I am going to speculate that John Doe & Amanda are something. When her number got called to race a turtle she like threw her arms up and he grabbed her hand and they walked over together with their arms up holding hands. I was like, “ANOTHER DRINK PLEASE THANKS.”

Anon: oh my.

Me: and they had dinner together

Anon: oh wow, yeah, you might be right

Me: all nice and fucking cozy

AND, SCENE.

First let me elaborate on the turtle. There is at least one bar in Chicago that has turtle racing on Friday nights. It is literally the dumbest, most boring thing you could imagine, but I went because John Doe was going. You actually can’t feel anything but bad for the poor things, they are so confused. I mean they don’t get hurt or anything, but it is still pretty lame watching them wander around and then having people try to decide which turtle won, since they are usually waddling around in circles.

Anyway. That night at the races was an emotional landmine for me – watching JD chat up and be normal with other girls while completely ignoring me. Eventually I’d had enough of my own sulking and just left, but not before convincing myself that he and Amanda were an item.

Nothing but a waste of time – and unfortunately, there is plenty more where that came from.

1+3=5

I have previously mentioned I am terrible at dating. There is nothing worse than having an awesome four-and-a-half hour first date, only to be no closer to a second date four weeks later. (It’s not you! It’s me! It’s too cold! I’m too tired!)

Oh, but how the times have changed. Even five years ago I would have moaned and obsessed and wondered. Now I’m sort of like, “if you don’t want to go out with me again, then stop being up my ass on Facebook. K thx bye.”

It’s very easy to hate things you are bad at, or be bad at the things you hate.

I genuinely HATE dating. When you meet someone online, the first date is usually your first time meeting them in person. If it’s someone you met drunk at a bar/party/on the street (if you’ve seen Clark St. during Cubs season you know what I am talking about), you go into the date wondering if you’ll like each other sober. There’s so much pressure. No one ever has the same end-result in mind. WE MAKE THINGS TOO FUCKING COMPLICATED. It’s not enough to like someone anymore. Now you need to have a fucking bachelor’s degree in texting, masters in body language and a Ph. fucking D in properly playing the game so you can come off as interested yet not crazy yet not TOO interested because that’s a turn-off, yet if you’re too aloof and they stop texting you back you’re all, hey WAIT a minute, I was playing it cool and now you’re fucking some random skank who was willing to put out while I wanted to build something meaningful so I lose either way and if this is what dating is like I’d just rather not – thank you VERY much.

Over the weekend I hit my limit with Mr. No 2nd Date and literally told him to have a nice life because I wasn’t an idiot and I can tell when someone is not interested. This was after the “too tired” excuse. Then of course the next day, he is whining on Facebook that he did nothing but sit on his couch on Saturday night.

Let me pull out my instructional manual and/or doctoral dissertation to decipher that passive-aggressive attempt at sympathy.

Was this lame status update

A) a non-apology apology?

B) fucking stupid

C) I told you that we have to have a Ph. D in this shit.

D) I could NOT care less what the meaning of that status was. I know five years ago it would have led to a two-hour phone call with my best friend trying to figure out the meaning behind it. Now I’m all, “you have no one to blame but yourself, dickwad.”

At least even the best daters sometimes still had problems:

Memories…of the way we were

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This gem of a photo is me (middle) being held up by Amy (left, bandanna  and Lisa (right) the day of my sister’s high school graduation. Nothing says cool 15-year old more than flannel pants, a backwards hat and eyebrows that are in desperate need of a waxing. But I digress.

Yesterday was my high school friend Aimee’s birthday. Even though Aimee is not in this picture, I figured a post about high school would require a photo from the corresponding time period. I wrote the following on her Facebook wall (or timeline now, whatever):

Happy Birthday, I still love you even though I had to kick you out of the something something against boys club that you created in 1997. xoxoxoxox

Now for the back story on that:

Sophomore year of high school was the last year I was forced to take gym. Luckily, I had the class with the lovely Christine, one of Aimee’s closest friends. She was hilarious and we stayed entertained while cursing the physical education requirement that was forced upon us – I mean floor hockey? Really? A golf lesson? Pass. This was also, ironically, the last year I swam competitively and my body has never been the same but that’s cool.

Anyhoodle. One day in gym, a cute boy starts flirting with me. “What’s the big deal?” you’re probably thinking. Well, when I was in high school, this was an event that happened maybe once every other semester – so it was rare. I had never noticed him before, (we’ll call him Lord Voldemort because from that day on he pretty much had my number) but all of a sudden there he was, and very obviously flirting with me. Even Christine thought so, and she had an amazing bullshit meter.

This continued for a couple of weeks and after much deliberation, surveying guys and girls, consulting with Christine and Aimee and gathering all the courage I could muster, I asked him out. Like, the legit 1996-97, “will you go out with me?”

His response? “I would love to, but I’m grounded. But in the meantime, let’s still be wicked good friends.” (We’re from New Hampshire, shut it)

Um, what? Yes, his parents were super strict, but that answer sounded like it was coming from a lying liar who lies.

Lo and behold, the next week he starts going out with someone else – I can’t remember her name. Something like Trashy McIrrelevant.

Being the mature young lady that I was, I immediately stopped speaking to him. I mean, I outright refused. Aimee and Christine were in full support of this and I believe Aimee decided we would form a club called (I shit you not) Feminazi’s across Concord High (FACH), where, as you can imagine, girls ruled and boys drooled.

I am not entirely sure how long the silent treatment lasted, but one day in gym class, Voldy finally apologized for lying to me in-between getting death stares from Christine.

Whatever his excuse was, which I can’t remember and I’m sure was flimsy, I decided to forgive him. Mistake one of many.

FACH became a running joke – I think Aimee even had a boyfriend at the time, but you can’t kick the founder out of their own club, can you?

Fast forward to junior year. Voldy and I had a very dysfunctional friendship. Our high school had block scheduling and we, along with two of his neanderthal friends, had first period free. So for 90 minutes every other day, I had the privilege of sitting with them and letting my crush deepen. Just as I was getting the courage to go for round two, he started dating my one true arch-nemesis (she wasn’t at the time but became so quickly) – Ugly McBitchFace. We had drama together so were friends for like, a hot minute, but then she and Voldy got together and she quickly realized how I felt. Not exactly the solid basis for a friendship – and she was just an awful person. Everyone said so. But anyway.

Voldy and I would fight all the time – I really wish I kept a diary of all that drama because it would be gold for the book.  During one of our fights he told either Aimee or Christine or both that he was tired of my shit, or to cut the shit – something about shit. But what 16 or 17 year old reacts well to getting strung along? Exactly.

(Side note: he and Ugly McBitchface dated on and off for like six years until she cheated on him and he finally got rid of her. Thank god they didn’t get married, although he is married to someone else we went to high school with, but she’s actually cool)

Because our deranged friendship had so many fights, we were also pushed into many forced truces. One particular day, Aimee caught us hugging in the hallway and screamed at me. I think I blushed and laughed and Voldy was very confused, but later that day, I received a note from her officially kicking me out of FACH because I had hugged a boy.

Even though it took a while, I kicked HER out after she got married in 2011. It’s only fair, right?

Voldy and I continued our train ride of dysfunction into 2009 or 2010, I kid you not. It was more of the same – “you’re so amazing, I’ve had a crush on you since high school, we need to date, blah blah blah” followed by exactly zero follow through. It didn’t help that we lived in entirely different states but seriously don’t say that crap to me – it does neither of us any good.

One summer evening after high school graduation, a day I fondly remember as The Day of Randomness, he at least provided me with a little light at the end of a very dark tunnel. I’d just had my heart broken and it was a difficult time for me – crying all the time, morose, depressed. I didn’t want to do anything except work (and I worked with my ex, which made the torture meter go off the charts) and watch TV. On this night, when I wasn’t working, Lisa and I were out for a walk by where her parents live, which is close to Voldy’s parents. He drove by us, saw us walking, and then pulled over. We wound up hanging out with him and his friends for a while that night. And even though nothing happened, it was one of the most NORMAL times we’d ever spent together and gave me a glimmer of hope – not that I’d be with him specifically, but that I’d be okay in general. And despite all the other ridiculous nonsense before AND after that night, I will always be grateful to him for that.

It’s too cold and I’m too old

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Apparently, it’s too cold to go on dates. I was potentially meeting “Gordon Bombay” for date #2 yesterday but then he texted to say it was “too fucking cold” and we should do it another night. I mean, he’s right, it’s like -20 here, but still. “Too cold” is just another way of saying “not interested.”

I think I need to tweak my first date radar – over the summer I had what I thought was an awesome date with a guy who went on to text me but not ask me out again – I finally had to tell him to not text me unless he planned on asking me out again, and lo and behold, I have not heard from him since.

I used to be legitimately afraid of living alone and being alone. I was afraid I would be lonely and hate being by myself and I’d get bored. Well, none of these things have happened and I love it – and still have the same social life that I did when I had two roommates. So being alone is no longer a fear of mine. And I’d rather be alone than deal with this bullshit:

“Oh, I had a good time on our date, but I’m actually dating four other people and well, I’m just not really willing to commit, until you see me “In a relationship with Skanky McHoebag in about a month and then you’ll realize I actually DIDN’T have a good time and it was you not me.”

I will now leave you with the greatest movie scene of all time (as it pertains to this post, at least):

No one likes a whiny bitch

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I wrote this piece today for Awful Announcing in regards to the whiny Duke bitch who complained about how she was treated during last week’s Duke vs. Miami game. The game was in Coral Gables.

Michelle Picon went to Duke undergrad but is a Miami grad student and was sitting in the student section wearing Duke gear. I’m not sure what she was expecting to happen, but any non-uppity, non-self important bitch would KNOW that when you wear the away team’s gear on the home team’s turf, you’re not exactly going to get a warm welcome from the fan base.

Here are just of the few things Duke fans have done to visiting teams and their fans – but you wouldn’t know it reading the letter Picon wrote to the Duke Chronicle. The way she portrays it, Duke fans are nothing but the most exemplary of fans that never offend or heckle the opposing team. Yeah. Right.

In the ultimate show of hypocrisy, the self-proclaimed Cameron Crazies can dish it out but certainly can not take it.

Listen, I moaned and whined and claimed outrage over how we were treated in Columbus when we invaded the town in our Miami gear for the UM/OSU game. We got completely blasted by the Buckeyes, so not only did we have to deal with the loss, but we had to deal with very much being kicked while we were down.

So yeah, when the wounds were fresh back in September of 2010, I was pissed off. But you really have to have a thick skin when you’re a sports fan. That’s just the way it is. Suck it up.

I am of course not condoning any of the violence that happens outside stadiums, what with people getting stabbed, shot and beaten.

It’s just a game, people. Yes, it’s a game we’re vehemently passionate about, but is it worth stabbing a fan of the opposing team over it? Will that make your team win? Are those good manners or bad manners?

In any case, Picon did her school and fan base NO FAVORS by basically living up to every single stereotype that comes with attending Duke.

 

 

The 2nd Best Worst OKCupid Message

My former roommate, recently back on the dating scene, received the following OKCupid message:

If you were my gf I would be honest with you, never cheat, treat u with integrity, show u respect, make u breakfast in bed, buy you dinner, take u to the movies, and so much more. ps and amazing sex even though im white lol.

I don’t understand the use of u vs. you and back to u. And the last sentence is beyond racist. What is WRONG with people?