Confession: I am awful at creating online dating profiles. Why am I even on online dating websites? As lame as this sounds, after hearing my friends talk about it and how "it really is the New-Age form of finding one's soulmate," I decided to give it a shot. But honestly, I'm h-o-r-r-i-b-l-e at creating a profile because I'm not good at putting myself "out there." I have friends who don't even bat an eyelash as they fill out an OkCupid account or an "E-Harmony's Harmonious Relationship" questionnaire. I, however, have visions of serial assholes and Craigslist Killers dancing in my head as I type out my "About Me" summary. But this time, after talking it out with one of my best friends, I figured, why not? I'm definitely moving to California at the end of the summer and I'm in the throes of Senioritis (an epidemic that has struck the class of 2011), so instead of creating graduation announcements, I decided to fill out one of these said relationship websites. And all I have to say is oh. My. God. Maybe I won't "find my true match" or maybe Cupid will decide to evade this twenty-two year old biddy, but after perusing through quite a few profiles of "Striking eligible bachelors," I have realized that there needs to be guidelines for guys when creating a profile.
1) Thou shalt pick a decent username-I have stumbled upon profiles with the most ludicrous usernames. That one name can be an instant turn on or in my case, off. Because let me just say that I will probably not talk to you if your name is FluffyParrotMan39 or ViktoriousThugLyfe or even GitRDunBoi20435. This makes me think that you are either an animal hoarder with a fetish for feathers, missing a few teeth, or a really bad speller (and let me tell you that is an extreme turnoff).
2) Thou shalt proofread your profile-Maybe you meant to say, "If someone was in a burning building, I would run in and rescue them." Maybe you meant to say, "I would love to meet over a cup of coffee." But because of your slippery fingers or sheer idiocy, you have written, "If someone was in a burning building, I would run in with them," and "I would love to meet over a cum of coffee." Um. Bye.
3) Thou shalt not be an asshole with pictures-Okay, seriously? How many pictures of you with a red solo cup can you put up? And why, why, why would you put up pictures of you taking body shots off of a tranny hot mess of a girl? Hi. I do have some self-respect. A guy who messaged me (whose username was ironically YesIamBig) had his profile picture be a shot of him, sweaty and beer-laden with a bunch of Hooters girls and a puppy in his arms. I am not joking. Nor was I impressed.
4) Thou shalt NOT be an asshole in your profile-Example: I saw a profile in which the guy (who had more facial hair than a cult leader) had at the beginning: DISCLAIMOR: IF YOU ARE FAT, DO NOT TALK TO ME. IF YOU ARE BIGER THAN A MOUND OF DIRT, DO NOT TALK TO ME. I almost flipped a shit. First of all, remember rule two? SPELLCHECK, you idiot. And two, SERIOUSLY? Seriously. That's all I can really say to that. Another thing that's really aggravating, as least to me, is when I read profiles that start like this: "Ladies deserve men that are classy and fabulous. I am both of those things." and "I am one of the nicest guys you will ever meet in your life." Ohhhh, and let's not forget: "I'm very respectful of girls, and am a fan of casual sex." It makes me shake my head. And laugh. And then want to cry because this is the pool of guys I have to choose from? I'd rather die lonely surrounded by spinach and artichoke dip and a season of Glee. Sheesh.
5) Thou shalt not be pushy-No. I will not go over to your house for the first date. I don't know if you're Jack the Ripper in disguise or if you have a Confederate flag waving from your roof. I will meet you in public, preferably over coffee or Barnes and Nobles, some place where throngs of people can see us and potentially pull the, "I'll-Pretend-I-Know-You-But-I-Really-Don't-But-You-Need-To-Be-Rescued-From-This-Creeper" move.
I bet you there's more guidelines that'll pop up as this experiment goes on. But at least for now, I can happily say that this has been quite a fun form of entertainment. And on that note...onward!
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Thursday, February 10, 2011
A little bit o' hope.
Thanksies need to be made to my beautiful friend, Sam Cib. Here she is, fellow blogettes:
Sam not only made my day today by telling me that The Perks of Being a Wallflower is being made into a movie, but last week, thanks to Facebook creeping, she accidentally introduced me to a blog that has been copied, bookmarked, and tabbed on my crumbling MC laptop, right next to my Y schedule: http://thefrenemy.tumblr.com/. Seriously. Best. Blog. Ever. I wish I could write as well as this person does. Today this blogger basically took my thoughts about e-books and Nooks and created the most eloquent post ever. My favorite passages:
"There is nothing, nothing like a book that is yours. The tattered and wrinkled dog, the pages you have scanned over and over, rubbed your fingers down the spine as real as human flesh. The first time you read a book that is yours is like finding a soulmate. It could be a sentence, three sentences, a paragraph before you know. You are hooked. You hug the book. You are elated at finding the kind of words that speak to all the parts of your bones and organs. You take it with you to all the apartments you’ll ever have, packing it safely in the boxes you write BOOKS on. You underline the BOOKS part in the box it is in so you know to be extra careful with it. You go to certain pages when you are sad. 97 will make you cry. 313 will make you laugh. 14 contains the life mantra you live by. You look at the corner crease in the upper right back cove- that came when you let your best friend borrow it. The ripped binding. The underlined sentences. The oil stain in the third chapter. It is as weathered and loved as your very first blanket. The reminder of somebody you loved, you take it back to the time in your life you were in Pennsylvania whipping your hand out the car window. This book is as memory inducing as a favorite song. For me, this book is The Picture of Dorian Gray. For you, it is whatever made you love the written word. Pull it out when you want to visit beloved friends."
"With real books, there are moments in a a doctor’s office. You watch a girl, maybe fifteen, pull out the Great Gatsby. You remember the moment you fell for it during the bare legged swing and lemonade sip of your sophomore summer. That month you soaked up the pain of love with the kind of awe and understanding that you will never be as brilliant as Fitzgerald. Or Vonnegut. You remember reading sentences from the great and the dead that throw you against a wall or rip your heart out, so you touch the pages and run your fingers down the ink in substitute. There are moments on the subway. A cute, tousled hair kind of guy pulls out a book you have never read. You watch his face, the movements of his mouth as he soaks it up and for a moment you love him. You take out your book, ruffle through your purse, find that paperback and let somebody fall in love with you as you struggle to read with one hand gripped on the crowded railing."
Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.
This week has been an emotional one. One of the girls in the theatre department just lot her mom. I think as you go through college and get involved with your major, the other people who are with you become family, and even if you don't hang out with them daily, there is the sense of fierce protectiveness and love. So when one loses someone or something, it affects everyone. I'm not going to lie, it made me feel a lot of things: incredibly sad, the shock that while I may be stressing about little things, there are much bigger things happening, and the sudden need to call my own mom, apologize for our fight last week, tell her that I love her a lot, and take her off of my "Block" list from Facebook (yes, I took her off of Facebook. What can I say, I was mad...). And I guess I needed to read something, see something that would maybe restore a little sparkle, a little hope in my world. And well, for me, that other blog post did just that.
So, Sam? Thanks, lady.
Sam not only made my day today by telling me that The Perks of Being a Wallflower is being made into a movie, but last week, thanks to Facebook creeping, she accidentally introduced me to a blog that has been copied, bookmarked, and tabbed on my crumbling MC laptop, right next to my Y schedule: http://thefrenemy.tumblr.com/. Seriously. Best. Blog. Ever. I wish I could write as well as this person does. Today this blogger basically took my thoughts about e-books and Nooks and created the most eloquent post ever. My favorite passages:
"There is nothing, nothing like a book that is yours. The tattered and wrinkled dog, the pages you have scanned over and over, rubbed your fingers down the spine as real as human flesh. The first time you read a book that is yours is like finding a soulmate. It could be a sentence, three sentences, a paragraph before you know. You are hooked. You hug the book. You are elated at finding the kind of words that speak to all the parts of your bones and organs. You take it with you to all the apartments you’ll ever have, packing it safely in the boxes you write BOOKS on. You underline the BOOKS part in the box it is in so you know to be extra careful with it. You go to certain pages when you are sad. 97 will make you cry. 313 will make you laugh. 14 contains the life mantra you live by. You look at the corner crease in the upper right back cove- that came when you let your best friend borrow it. The ripped binding. The underlined sentences. The oil stain in the third chapter. It is as weathered and loved as your very first blanket. The reminder of somebody you loved, you take it back to the time in your life you were in Pennsylvania whipping your hand out the car window. This book is as memory inducing as a favorite song. For me, this book is The Picture of Dorian Gray. For you, it is whatever made you love the written word. Pull it out when you want to visit beloved friends."
"With real books, there are moments in a a doctor’s office. You watch a girl, maybe fifteen, pull out the Great Gatsby. You remember the moment you fell for it during the bare legged swing and lemonade sip of your sophomore summer. That month you soaked up the pain of love with the kind of awe and understanding that you will never be as brilliant as Fitzgerald. Or Vonnegut. You remember reading sentences from the great and the dead that throw you against a wall or rip your heart out, so you touch the pages and run your fingers down the ink in substitute. There are moments on the subway. A cute, tousled hair kind of guy pulls out a book you have never read. You watch his face, the movements of his mouth as he soaks it up and for a moment you love him. You take out your book, ruffle through your purse, find that paperback and let somebody fall in love with you as you struggle to read with one hand gripped on the crowded railing."
Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.
This week has been an emotional one. One of the girls in the theatre department just lot her mom. I think as you go through college and get involved with your major, the other people who are with you become family, and even if you don't hang out with them daily, there is the sense of fierce protectiveness and love. So when one loses someone or something, it affects everyone. I'm not going to lie, it made me feel a lot of things: incredibly sad, the shock that while I may be stressing about little things, there are much bigger things happening, and the sudden need to call my own mom, apologize for our fight last week, tell her that I love her a lot, and take her off of my "Block" list from Facebook (yes, I took her off of Facebook. What can I say, I was mad...). And I guess I needed to read something, see something that would maybe restore a little sparkle, a little hope in my world. And well, for me, that other blog post did just that.
So, Sam? Thanks, lady.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Looooooove
Valentine's Day is next Monday and last week I had a voracious appetite for doing the very things that sometimes make me irritable around this time of year:
-Surfing wedding blogs
-Looking at every single wedding profile on The Knot
-Reading the "Happy Couple" section in People and Self
-Couple watching in Starbucks...and making faces
-Playing the, "How? How does this stanky celeb have a boyfriend?" with only the closest of my girlfriends (which is mean, I know. But like Spence says, sometimes it's just necessary)
-Eating chocolate but not going to yoga
And then I have to remember the things that make me happy:
+I do what I want. Within reason.
+My time is mine.
+I have a fabulous group of girlfriends that I wouldn't trade with anyone for the world
+I am getting ready to embark on an equally fabulous adventure next year
+I am actually quite happy with the way things are going in my life.
+And on Monday I am going to (quite contentedly) make handmade Valentines (goofy, of course) for my best friends and treat myself to some much-needed Ben and Jerry's. And probably send my dad an e-mail demanding that he be my Valentine.
+Yoga class. Fine, fine...I'll go.
-Surfing wedding blogs
-Looking at every single wedding profile on The Knot
-Reading the "Happy Couple" section in People and Self
-Couple watching in Starbucks...and making faces
-Playing the, "How? How does this stanky celeb have a boyfriend?" with only the closest of my girlfriends (which is mean, I know. But like Spence says, sometimes it's just necessary)
-Eating chocolate but not going to yoga
And then I have to remember the things that make me happy:
+I do what I want. Within reason.
+My time is mine.
+I have a fabulous group of girlfriends that I wouldn't trade with anyone for the world
+I am getting ready to embark on an equally fabulous adventure next year
+I am actually quite happy with the way things are going in my life.
+And on Monday I am going to (quite contentedly) make handmade Valentines (goofy, of course) for my best friends and treat myself to some much-needed Ben and Jerry's. And probably send my dad an e-mail demanding that he be my Valentine.
+Yoga class. Fine, fine...I'll go.
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