In which we discuss total incompetence

Picture it: Newport Beach, last Saturday (I’m watching a Golden Girls marathon right now so forgive me for channeling Sophia).

Anyway:

You’re hanging out in a bar with your good friend when a random dude and his friend approach you. Eventually random dude tells you that he wants to take you on a date that week (as long as you’re not under 30, because he doesn’t date women under 30). Okay, cool. Sounds great.

The next day you get a “nice to meet you” text but nothing else. Okay, so maybe the date isn’t happening. No big deal. You’re slightly curious as to why he would even text you to begin with if he either 1) didn’t remember you as you suspected he wouldn’t or 2) decided thanks but no thanks. But you should probably check your curiosity at the door.

The day after THAT, at 7:15 pm, you get another text asking if you want to come over THAT night for pizza and a movie. For a first date. At a total stranger’s apartment. Yeah, that sounds like a plan, broseph. So, you decide to just not even dignify that question with a response by literally not responding.

Two days later, you get another text from random dude asking why he didn’t hear from you and you’re all, “because that is NOT the way to ask someone out on a date,” all up on your soapbox of Please Put in the Slightest Modicum of Effort, I’m Begging You.

Random dude tries again and you agree to go out the next night. He’ll call you when he’s done golfing. Except that no, no he won’t. Which brings me to my original question of what was even the point of the FIRST text. Just don’t text me.

So you find yourself sitting there waiting for your phone to ring and then realize that you don’t want to be in THAT PLACE, so you just block him and move on (to write a fictitious blog about this hypothetical situation).

In which we discuss stage 5 clingers

…disclaimer brought to you by Phoebe Buffay – “now I can’t stress this point too strongly…this story isn’t real”:

You have a friend. Your friend is not so good at the dating. It seems her only options are, “beating heart ripped out of chest” or “running away from stage 5 clingers.”

But, she’s been Mopey McMoperson for a fucking year over a douchelord who is an emotional sadist, so you tell her to get back out there and try her luck, because the path to ever lasting love does not involve watching Netflix at 4 am.

So, she gets online. Right away, she is matched with a guy who seems polite and normal. Their first date consists of beers at a sports bar.

Her date is nice but seems overly enthused. Which she is not used to, really, so she thinks it is weird he’s overly affectionate, like how when he gets up to go to the bathroom less than 45 minutes into the date kisses her as he gets up from the table.

But, as we’ve already determined, your friend is inept, so maybe that’s normal? She’s not sure. It’s also weird that he seems so gung ho over her when he hasn’t asked her many questions about herself, so maybe he’d just be that excited over a plant. Who knows.

At the end of the date, Mr. Seemingly-Normal-Until-the-Other-Shoe-Drops-But-We’ll-Get-to-That asks her to go home with him but she politely declines because it’s not like they were dry humping at the table and she gave him any indication that the evening was headed in that direction.

But they DO plan a second date, and he tells her that he will make her dinner at his place which in RETROSPECT was not a good idea.

As date number two approaches, your friend begins to get more nervous, as is par for the course with her, because she scares easily when people genuinely like her. But, she goes and tries to have a positive attitude but in the millisecond that she sees him when he comes to retrieve her from the parking lot she’s all, “yeah, no” and then spends most of the date pretty much like this:

Now, it is important to mention that she wanted to be honest with this guy so told him that she wasn’t sure what she was looking for but that she was still struggling with feelings for her ex because I guess it is easier to be honest when you have nothing invested and maybe being honest up front is the better way to go. But HIS response was something along the lines of, “well, I am ready to commit to you exclusively right now…or we can just have sex.” Pause for reaction.

Now, at this point she’s regretting that they aren’t in public so she can’t just peace the fuck out and at some point must have agreed that they could still hang out and see what happens because when she gets home (two hours later, which seemed like at least eight) he has texted her to tell her that she is going to LOVE what he is planning and where he is taking her later on in the week. She is confused – she thought she meant hanging out in a causal sense like hanging out without expectations or whatnot and he’s in a completely different chapter planning surprise dates that she is not comfortable with.

So, the next day she decides to rip off the band-aid and just tell him that she can’t see him anymore. She sends this via text because that is allowed after only two dates and no exchange of last names, correct?

He doesn’t immediately respond, so she feels like she is in the clear and is relieved. Just disappearing without explanation is kind of shitty and as much as it sucks, even over text, to tell someone you don’t want to see them anymore, she felt like she did the right thing.

But nope – spoke too soon. The responses start coming in. First a text: why, what’s up? Followed by another one: I was really hoping you wouldn’t tell me this over text. Followed by a phone call. Immediately followed by another phone call AND voice mail. (And that, my friends, is an A+ in How to Get Blocked 101)

Which okay – come on, dude. Really? First of all, I cannot tell you how many dudes have disappeared on me (I mean YOUR FRIEND) after we’d (they’d) been through more than two dates, second of all this all seems a little excessive considering she was upfront about her feelings and third of all, there are surely people reading this who feel like in the below GIF your friend is clearly Rachel and they are everyone else and this depicts them trying to get her to make reasonably logical decisions in general when it comes to dating (like maybe don’t go to a dude’s apartment on the second date because it might unleash the Stage 5).

tumblr_ljavfesgha1qdqb3io1_400

 

And your friend is all

ANYWAY. This entirely made up story is just another in the endless “dating sucks” stories we see on a daily basis. Fun times.

An open letter to cell phone companies (not to be taken TOO seriously)

Dear All Phone Companies,

This was originally going to be an open letter to T-Mobile until I realized this completely hypothetical scenario that has nothing to do with my current situation also involves AT&T, so maybe this is an every phone company type of request, but I digress.

It is a known fact among my friends that after a certain hour and/or number of glasses of wine, I should not be allowed to text certain people. It is also a known fact that sometimes I do stupid shit, I mean, HELLO, the name of this blog says it all.

Anyhoo. Smartphones now have features that allow people to block certain phone numbers. Sometimes, it’s easy to do. For example, the guy you went on one date with who you told more than once, “thanks but no thanks”, but he keeps texting you and you’re all, “Maybe Espanol would be more clear” but blocking is just easier and you can just do it and not even give it a second thought.

Other times though – not as easy. You find yourself forced to block someone because you are knocked on your ass in love with them, while you are their placeholder, and after what you thought was a breakthrough evening of amazingness they break up with you over text three days later and your friend is all maybe you should block him because I mean, really:

Then, because knowledge is power but not really, you decide that you want to know what happens if you block someone and then they try to text you. So, while discussing this over drinks, you block your very nice willing-to-humor-you friend, have her text you, and then unblock her. On her end, it appears the text goes through. On your end, you don’t receive it, so then you unblock her and immediately the text she tried to send you comes through. And you react to that brilliant plan:


So then you’re all, WHY DID I DO THAT? And by “that” of course I mean take the time to learn the intricacies of blocking/unblocking people in your phone. And this, phone companies, leads me to question number one.

WHY THE TAKESIES-BACKSIES?

This ability to unblock people – can you get rid of it? Once you block a person, can’t it be permanent so you don’t in your mind fabricate texts begging for your forgiveness that never actually happened but if there was no unblock option you’d never know this vs. caving and seeing a whopping two texts over the span of two months (side note: WTF). And then you hop back on the dating merry-go-round for another ride on the “this is the best and worst thing ever at the same goddamn time” horse and none of this would be an issue if blocks could be permanent! Screw will power!

This leads me to my second question/issue, and that is with factory resets. What if you had to do one over the weekend, and low and behold, these also remove all blocks because it wipes the phone so when you blocked this person for a second time after feeling emotionally abandoned in a Hooters parking lot, not only does it unblock them FOR you, but any attempted texts just flitter off to wherever these texts go. No, seriously. Where do they go? Because now not only did you lose the opportunity to see the maybe fictitious maybe not text(s) by unblocking him right before the reset, but now you have NO IDEA what he has attempted to text you, if anything, and when you had the choice to not know that was one thing, but it is QUITE ANOTHER to lose that power against your will because for some reason your Galaxy S5 decided to just not work and a reset was your only option.

Which leads me to my third and final issue. If you happened to text this now unblocked person and then realized not only that you didn’t know if you just responded to something like, “I hate you, never text me again,” with, “isn’t Jay Cutler the WORST?” but that apparently you haven’t hit your threshold for torture because you decide it would be a good idea to download a recent phone bill and see if blocked numbers still show up as incoming texts. Fun fact. They do. So now you decide that you’re done because you don’t want to count how many times he tried to text you and you wouldn’t be able to see the content anyways AND he didn’t respond to your lame attempt at starting a conversation because on Sunday you really just MISSED him and when your friend tells you to try and not go to the bad place of worst case scenarios, you’re all:

So this was just a REALLY long-winded way of asking for three things, phone companies of America:

1) For blocks to be permanent

2) For factory resets to somehow keep blocks intact (I mean, we’ve sent people to space, this can’t be harder than that)

3) For blocked incoming texts to NOT show up on phone bills because REALLY??? It technically wasn’t incoming if I never saw it. And furthermore if I didn’t have unlimited texting, would I have to pay for that? Does this even make sense?

Thanks for your consideration.

xoxox,

RF

Halfway there

How in the hell are we already halfway done with 2014? I legitimately do not understand. This year is flying, more so than any recent ones that I can remember.

May was a hard month for me. Well, actually in April I was awarded the honor of being Dumbass of the Century when I started seeing B3 again, and then stopped, and then started, and didn’t tell anyone, because of course the sign of a good relationship is when you can’t tell anyone about it because they will be all

And you’re like

Even though they have EVERY RIGHT TO JUDGE YOU BECAUSE MY GOD. And as you write this, you’re all, “oh and B-T-DUBS, he was SUPPOSED to take me out last week for my birthday but instead all I got were texts about the NHL playoffs, which I don’t give a fuck about, so you know what buddy, you can BITE ME.”

But May wasn’t hard for that reason alone, May was hard because at the end of April I got hit in the eye with a softball while attempting (badly) to play in the outfield, and it broke my eye socket, and I had to have very painful surgery and looked like the Bride of Chucky for most of the month. On the bright side, I had a solid dose of Vicodin and was able to dull the pain. But I missed a lot of work and stressed about that because it essentially boiled down to missing work because I can’t catch a fucking softball.

So now, I’m trying to regroup because I’ve been scared to do things like go to the gym and put on eye makeup.

It is truly amazing how much your life can change in a day/month/year.

In which we discuss online dating

One of my friends is on OKCupid, and has really weathered some absolute bullshit because she’s a trooper, and I’ve just listened to her stories over G-Chat, vowing never again to test the waters of online dating.

Well, today she received two messages that just speak for themselves in terms of WTF. First, we have bachelor #1:

okc1

Okay first of all, the grammatical errors. Your vs. you’re is one of the most common yet infuriating grammatical errors that will automatically eliminate you from her and my dating pool. If that makes us snooty bitches, then so be it.

Second of all, who is he kidding with the 300 pounds comment? I mean, sure it was said in jest, but if my friend were even ten pounds heavier than her picture (she’s not) I am sure he’d run for the nearest cliff.

Bachelor #2 sent her something that was EERILY similar:

okc2

 

Both of them with the weight and the teeth and the misuse of your/you’re. Are these the messages we’re sending now? I don’t even know how to do this anymore but isn’t there a way to be witty without being offensive?

I really wonder what goes in to sending messages like this. Of course I’ve sent many a first message I thought was witty in which I was brutally rebuffed, so who knows. It’s obviously an exact science that involves a certain amount of cleavage and teeth.

But these are two very similar messages from two different people. So originality is out the window.  No wonder shows like I Wanna Marry “Harry” exist. What else is there to do?

Dating is actually the worst, for real, no take backs, no triple stamping a double stamp

Dating. It sucks. It’s a social land mine of broken hearts, bad sex, bad dates, bad kisses and then SOMETIMES you get a really good person that makes you all

but then it ends in ultimate gut-wrenching rejection that makes you want to do nothing but this:

Most of the time, we try to keep a sense of humor about it. Numerous times, I sat with my friends in bars making t-charts to weighs the pros/cons of the current object of my affection.

Example below for Brad, my cruise boyfriend who turned out to live in the same metro-area as I did at the time but afterward was uninterested in continuing our Caribbean fling:

Pros: Adventurous, is a man giant (not entirely true but I do like ’em tall), private spooning, frequents Indiana casinos, is insanely sexual.

*There are other pros I am leaving out for reasons of which I am unwilling to elaborate.

Cons: Lives in suburban HELL, smokes, is really way to old for me, possibly died after amazingness of the cruise, is an old WOMAN (video poker obsession)

See? Casual, funny, whatever. Sure, maybe we wrote that ten Old Styles in after a Cubs game, but it ultimately doesn’t matter.

But lately. Lately it is IMPOSSIBLE to keep a sense of humor about anything. My friend Susan just got dicked over by yet another OKCupid guy. When I was home for Christmas, I saw her the day she was having her first date with this dude. They went for coffee, it went well, and he asked her to come over and hang out at his place for New Years eve.

Things went great, he was in constant communication, told her he couldn’t wait to see her again, and then. Then, today she gets this:

Screenshot 2014-01-05 at 8.16.39 AM

When I saw this text, my immediate reaction was

d57cd97d56194590083281da05e88a5a

 

Why. Why do they do this? This is as bad as Bachelor #1 rejecting me but telling me I was so amazing he was going to set me up with someone else. Could you BE any more patronizing? And I would ask the same of this Ben character. Is there some rule among guys we don’t know about where they are obligated to talk to us for approximately four days after we give up the goods or get close to it or entertain the notion enough to keep them wanting more except NO – they fucking disappear? Or they lie about having cancer (true story). Or they tell you they don’t want to hear about you being upset and then ask you if you are still upset.

If you don’t want to date – DO NOT JOIN A DATING WEB SITE. Why is this concept lost on so many people? Chicks do it too (I’m sure), so this is not specific to guys, but since I don’t date chicks, this current rant is directed at Bachelor’s 1,3, and this Ben dude.

In B3’s defense, he isn’t on any dating sites (that I know of) and told me he sucks at dating, but he is giving me just enough to think he cares because I am sure that his hope is that in a moment of weakness, I will crack and ask him to do stuff. But I know he doesn’t care- as the song goes

Okay, so anyway, new rule: if you are not looking to date, and just want to store up for your inner sexual camel, go trolling bars or Craigslist. Got it? Good, thanks.

Already? Already

The time is here for me to come out of my moving-to-California hiatus and update this bitch.

The move went relatively smoothly minus my giant breakdown around 2 am in Vegas. The stress of everything came crashing down on me. Whereas while I was still in Chicago it manifested itself in other ways (loss of appetite, mostly) in Vegas I just started sobbing for the following reasons:

1) Still not over my end-of-April job loss. It wasn’t losing the actual job, it was the way it happened and that I didn’t hear from coworkers whose weddings I had been to or spent every day working side by side with – it was as if I didn’t exist. And that still bothers me.

2) John Doe, because of course.

3) Feeling like a giant failure in general, which had been piling up on me for the better part of four months. Ironic; you’d think moving here for a new job would make me feel accomplished, and it did for the most part, but leaving Chicago and my friends behind was hard, and all this emotion that I thought would come out earlier just all unleashed itself at the same time.

So, emotional breakdown over with, Katie and I got into Irvine the Friday before Labor Day. My last week in Chicago, it was suggested I reactivate my OK Cupid profile to see what Orange County had to offer in terms of single gentlemen. I changed my zip code on my profile but updated nothing else, in that it still said I lived in Chicago, blah blah blah, I hate Ohio State, the end.

Saturday night I get a message from a cute, normal dude we’ll call Bucky. We messaged/texted and made plans for Monday (Labor Day).  I should throw it out there that based on PREVIOUS OKC dates, my expectations for this one were rock bottom. We met at 2 pm. Eight and a half hours later, I got home. It was an amazing date, easily the best of my life. You know, everything goes right, you laugh, you click, there is never an awkward pause in conversation, you impress him with your 1985 Final Four knowledge and he even says, “best first date ever,” and that he’s “enamored.”

But no. No, there was no second date. How is that possible? I’m glad you asked! Bucky is not over his ex. GOD WHERE HAVE I HEARD THAT BEFORE? I’ve used that excuse more than once, true or false. He told me how amazing I was and how he’d never connected with anyone like that in his life BUT he needed time…and then he offered to set me up with someone else after referencing Two and a Half Men, at which point I tuned him out. Are you fucking KIDDING me, dude? If you’re not ready to date, don’t join a dating web site.

It’s baffling that before I’d even been here a week I was involved in guy drama. I was HOPING to leave that behind in Chicago. However, it gets worse. I saw Bucky this past Saturday afternoon at a bar, though he didn’t see me (at least I don’t think), and I didn’t talk to him, because I assumed it would be awkward. But after he was gone, I sent him a text, “Hey I think I just saw you at XYZ bar.” This really was not meant to be a stalker text, it really was meant to be, “I think I saw you”, with the fruitless hope of the “yeah I just left there, come meet us later at ABC bar” type of response. But no. NO. INSTEAD, I get a text saying he was in another state this weekend. If by another state you mean ten fucking feet in front of me, then yes, I agree. Otherwise…no. And furthermore, I don’t get the lie. Why not just ignore me like JD would have?

So because I am a paranoid freak and I over-analyze everything, I drew all of the following conclusions:

1) He didn’t see me, and when I texted him, he didn’t want me to know he had been there and didn’t see or talk to me.

2) He didn’t see me, and when I texted him, he didn’t want ME to think I had said hi to someone who I thought was him so his excuse for theoretically ignoring me was that it wasn’t him because he was in another state. (Highly unlikely)

3) He saw me and bolted.

4) Even though his back was to me, one of his friends caught me staring, pointed me out, they rushed paying the check and bolted.

It doesn’t matter, ultimately, because I shouldn’t have texted him so please don’t lecture me.

Aren’t you glad my dating ineptitude travels with me? You’re welcome.

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.

And now another BITCH, PLEASE segment, brought to you by Princeton (UPDATED)

Jezebel posted this story earlier about how a FEMALE Princeton alum wrote a letter to the editor of the Daily Princetonian wanting to share her pearls of Ivy League wisdom by telling “the daughters [she] never had” to know that they’re screwed for life if they don’t snag a Princeton prince by first semester freshman year.”

I am trying to access the DP’s site to read this gem in its entirely but legitimately think Jezebel’s post caused all of us doomed, irate, 30-somethings to head on over to the site and give them the what for and as of right now I am pretty sure the site has crashed. So I have to do this somewhat blindly based on Jezebel’s post unless the site miraculously starts working again.

Point: For most of you, the cornerstone of your future and happiness will be inextricably linked to the man you marry, and you will never again have this concentration of men who are worthy of you.

BITCH, PLEASE: This is what you’re telling Princeton students? Really? This is your advice. Can we TALK about the quality of boys I met my freshman year? The overly beautiful president of Kappa Sig, who went by Tennessee, had perfect blue eyes and a southern drawl and would not give me the time of day even though I tried and forced my friend in KKG to give me his AIM name (SHUT IT, IT WAS 1999) and when I tried to chat with him he was like I literally do not know who you are. Then there was the dude whose dad worked for United and was just using me for my Comm 101 notes because all our professor did was talk about his canary yellow Nissan XTerra so Bob never went to class and even though I skipped every other class, he thought something was better than nothing. OR we can talk about the guy who offered to help me study for my first EVER midterm and stupid naive me actually brought my notes and all HE wanted to do was make out – cut to me getting a D-!!! I don’t give two shits that I didn’t go to Princeton, and p.s. this is not 1973 and 18-year old boys are not interested in meeting a long-term girlfriend the minute their parents unpack them and then drive off to their Connecticut mansion in their BMW. They want to get drunk and plow everything in site and YOUR ADVICE is that we should marry one of them? Pffffft. Oh, and by the WAY, I found a MOST FLATTERING picture of you:

wicked stepmother

Point: (Talking about how she went to some event there): I attended the event with my best friend since our freshman year in 1973. You girls glazed over at preliminary comments about our professional accomplishments and the importance of networking. Then the conversation shifted in tone and interest level when one of you asked how have Kendall and I sustained a friendship for 40 years. You asked if we were ever jealous of each other. You asked about the value of our friendship, about our husbands and children. Clearly, you don’t want any more career advice. At your core, you know that there are other things that you need that nobody is addressing. A lifelong friend is one of them. Finding the right man to marry is another.

BITCH, PLEASE: But most of all they need a good therapistAnd, instead of steering them back to your accomplishments, whatever they may be, or perhaps offering that there is more to life than meeting your future spouse when you’re 18, you fed in to their petty bullshit questions? Furthermore, if that’s all they TRULY care about, I am concerned these girls are hogging admission spots at Princeton that could be used by people who ACTUALLY WANT AN IVY LEAGUE DEGREE rather than a rich man fishing pole.

Jezebel notes that: Her two sons are both Princetonians; one already married a classmate of his, although he “could have married anyone,” but, lucky for Princeton ladies, her younger son is still a junior — catch him while you can! — although “the universe of women he can marry is limitless,” as he is a man who aced his SATs.

BITCH, PLEASE: I truly pity your current and future daughter-in-laws because you sound like a delusional whack job.

Point: Here is another truth that you know, but nobody is talking about. As freshman women, you have four classes of men to choose from. Every year, you lose the men in the senior class, and you become older than the class of incoming freshman men. So, by the time you are a senior, you basically have only the men in your own class to choose from, and frankly, they now have four classes of women to choose from. Maybe you should have been a little nicer to these guys when you were freshmen?

BITCH, PLEASE: I seriously feel like my head might explode now. We’ve already addressed how most people do not marry someone they meet their freshman year. But college is about finding yourself and learning what you are and what you are not. Why the fuck would anyone want to latch on immediately to a relationship before they even have a chance to experience classes and all-nighters and roommates and adjusting to life away from home for the first time? Is this really what you’re condoning? Not only finding a husband before you graduate, but an older one? GOD FORBID A WOMAN DATES A YOUNGER MAN. God forbid ANY OF US graduate single and experience life and can do whatever we want, even if that means moving ten times in like a year and half because we are trying to figure things out and we don’t have to drag someone else around with us because some Princeton alum convinced us it was A LIFE NECESSITY to meet your future spouse above all else? And what if (GASP) someone decides they don’t WANT to get married? Are we doomed to fail in life because you’re still living in the 1870’s?

LADY, I am embarrassed for you and your poor son who is still there and will probably never get laid again because no woman in her right mind would want to marry into your family.

I can’t even form coherent sentences I am so mad.

UPDATE – Below is the letter in its entirety. Now the comments section won’t load. The fun never ends!

Advice for the young women of Princeton: the daughters I never had
Forget about having it all, or not having it all, leaning in or leaning out — here’s what you really need to know that nobody is telling you.

For years (decades, really) we have been bombarded with advice on professional advancement, breaking through that glass ceiling and achieving work-life balance. We can figure that out — we are Princeton women. If anyone can overcome professional obstacles, it will be our brilliant, resourceful, very well-educated selves.

A few weeks ago, I attended the Women and Leadership conference on campus that featured a conversation between President Shirley Tilghman and Wilson School professor Anne-Marie Slaughter, and I participated in the breakout session afterward that allowed current undergraduate women to speak informally with older and presumably wiser alumnae. I attended the event with my best friend since our freshman year in 1973. You girls glazed over at preliminary comments about our professional accomplishments and the importance of networking. Then the conversation shifted in tone and interest level when one of you asked how have Kendall and I sustained a friendship for 40 years. You asked if we were ever jealous of each other. You asked about the value of our friendship, about our husbands and children. Clearly, you don’t want any more career advice. At your core, you know that there are other things that you need that nobody is addressing. A lifelong friend is one of them. Finding the right man to marry is another.

When I was an undergraduate in the mid-seventies, the 200 pioneer women in my class would talk about navigating the virile plains of Princeton as a precursor to professional success. Never being one to shy away from expressing an unpopular opinion, I said that I wanted to get married and have children. It was seen as heresy.

For most of you, the cornerstone of your future and happiness will be inextricably linked to the man you marry, and you will never again have this concentration of men who are worthy of you.

Here’s what nobody is telling you: Find a husband on campus before you graduate. Yes, I went there.

I am the mother of two sons who are both Princetonians. My older son had the good judgment and great fortune to marry a classmate of his, but he could have married anyone. My younger son is a junior and the universe of women he can marry is limitless. Men regularly marry women who are younger, less intelligent, less educated. It’s amazing how forgiving men can be about a woman’s lack of erudition, if she is exceptionally pretty. Smart women can’t (shouldn’t) marry men who aren’t at least their intellectual equal. As Princeton women, we have almost priced ourselves out of the market. Simply put, there is a very limited population of men who are as smart or smarter than we are. And I say again — you will never again be surrounded by this concentration of men who are worthy of you.

Of course, once you graduate, you will meet men who are your intellectual equal — just not that many of them. And, you could choose to marry a man who has other things to recommend him besides a soaring intellect. But ultimately, it will frustrate you to be with a man who just isn’t as smart as you.

Here is another truth that you know, but nobody is talking about. As freshman women, you have four classes of men to choose from. Every year, you lose the men in the senior class, and you become older than the class of incoming freshman men. So, by the time you are a senior, you basically have only the men in your own class to choose from, and frankly, they now have four classes of women to choose from. Maybe you should have been a little nicer to these guys when you were freshmen?

If I had daughters, this is what I would be telling them.

Susan A. Patton ’77

President of the Class of 1977

New York, N.Y.