Haters, They Gonna Date

One of my favorite tabs to keep open at work (behind Facebook, The Wall Street Journal, and whatever I’m actually supposed to be focusing on) is A Confederacy of Spinsters; a witty, femme-centric romp around girly life and all things collateral.

In the off-kilter fantasy land that exists only within my psycho brain, I like to think of my blog as the unstable, less established, uglier-but-with-a-heart-of-gold step-sister of the Confederacy. They’re the popular girls, and I’m on the swim team. But at least they smile at me in the hallway, y’know?

Today, Grace– one of the trifecta that comprise the confederacy– shared a sagacious bit about the unjust differences in society’s perception between love-seeking men:


and love-seeking women:


It was a superb piece of prose, and I demand you give it a read. Now. Because I’m done talking about it.

Sort of.

What I want to talk about is something Grace invoked as a medium through which to convey her snazzy gospel. And that medium is online dating.

Most girls aren’t smart enough to see the benefits of online dating. Most girls are also not smart enough to realize that filling out questionnaires full of queries like, “How many people have you slept with?” and “Describe your ideal wedding” and posting them to notes on your Facebook profile isn’t the healthiest way to attract the opposite sex.

And waiting for the cute barista at Starbucks to finally write his phone number on your latte one morning, instead of scribbling what may be an amalgamation of your name and some vague shapes, isn’t considered, “Being Actively On The Market.”

When I first made the decision to dabble in digital dating, I was living with two quintessential psycho girls, having recently relocated to California and at a loss for how to meet new people. My roommates– an obsessive-compulsive catholic with Bambi eyes and a snorting laugh, and a floozy with orange skin who made her living “promoting” Vitamin Water (she was an H2O whore)– were, to say the least, disdainful.

Not only did I drink beer, prefer reading to watching reality TV, and find the company of my cats more enlightening than Margarita Monday with them and their terrible friends; I scourged the internet for men as loose as I, sending pictures of my nipples and trimmings of ankle hair to any and all interested parties.

At least that’s what I assume they thought I did.

Of course, if I were interested in nipple pics and leg hair exchanges, I would have pinned a W4M ad up on Craigslist and hoped for the worst. But I’m crazy, not insane, so I used legitimate dating sites designed for single, socially awkward or time-constrained people seeking the company of other eccentric, but not homicidal, adults.

Needless to say, there are a lot of idiots out there. One guy sent me upwards of ten (unanswered) messages, before finally– desperately– admitting that he wanted, and needed, to “draw me.” But crazy dudes, like psycho girls, exist in both the real and electronic world, and your computer screen offers a much less formidable medium for rejection than a face-to-face rendez vous.

Most girls, as I’ll preach once and again over to you, are not smart at all. Most girls are psycho. And they need help.

So ladies, allow me to draw a Crayola stick-figure diagram for you.

We buy shoes online. We buy underwear and pants online. We order birth control, tampons and makeup removal pads in bulk online. Why? Because we can read the reviews, research the product, find the best price, and wear our pajamas while half-assedly watching Don Draper womanize his way through a marathon of Mad Men in the background.

Online dating is the exact same thing.

If you’re single and not happy about it, stop waiting for Ryan Gosling to appear under your bedroom window with a boombox. He’s dating Eva Mendes last I stalked checked, and it’ll take a day or two of thrift-storing to find a wireless boombox that actually functions.

Put yourself out there. Be bold. Be brave. Embrace your crazy and craft it into some witty quips about your love for the Spice Girls and secret passion for fantasy baseball.

4 thoughts on “Haters, They Gonna Date

  1. Haha ” We buy underwear and pants online.” Yes! I’ve been trying to convince one of my best friends to try it, but she insists it’ll be a string of bad dates gone worse, which a few MAY be, but like you said, it’s still a better market that waiting for something to fall in your lap.

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