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Category Archives: dating

Someone’s doing this wrong. It may well be me.

In an attempt to be a normal human, and to take 2014 by the horns (THE HORNS, people!) I decided to do something that might be a gigantic mistake.

NO, I didn’t dye my hair blonde. Don’t be absurd. I look terrible blonde. Tried it once, in grad school. I looked like I was wearing a terrible wig. I immediately went to a salon and had them fix it because it was too embarrassing to leave the house with. (Well, obviously I had to leave the house to go to the salon…I wore a hat.) Then I did it AGAIN years LATER but that time it was an accident. So I just dyed it back myself, because I was poor then. Anyway, in summation: I’m not a blonde, nor will I ever BE a blonde.

Yeah, I didn't even look this good. There might have been weeping, though.

Yeah, I didn’t even look this good. There might have been weeping, though.

Nope. What I DID do is sign up for online dating.

See, here’s the thing: you don’t meet a lot of people hanging around your house. You meet your cat, and sometimes the old guy who lives downstairs and coughs a lot and Dad talked to him once and said “he’s just waiting to die, his wife’s dead and he’s so depressed” and I said, “how did you find all that out from talking to him for, like, five SECONDS?” and Dad said, “Well, I might have guessed parts of that.” You sometimes meet package deliverymen and Chinese food deliverymen and maintenance men. None of these people are really dating potential. This isn’t a porn. No one’s showing up at my door asking “Did anyone call for a PLUMBER?” and then bow-chicka-wow-wow music’s going to start. Also, ew, that’s how you get the clap.

So even though the last time I tried this online dating situation I had…well, let’s just say the worst luck ever…I decided to give it another go. It would be nice to date someone. Or maybe a few someones. See what happens. It is a thing that people do, right? This dating thing? Yes. Yes, it is.

So with the support of my friends, who were all “that is a very good idea! You do that! You will meet someone awesome!” I filled out pages and pages of questions and silly blurbs and whether I liked dogs or cats (WHY MUST I CHOOSE?) and how very, very much I love long walks on the beach and getting caught in the rain and laughing like those people in the online dating commercials while eating pasta by candlelight. Online dating commercials about meeting the love of your life on the internet can’t lie, right? RIGHT?

However! I have learned some things from the online dating site that I think are important for people to bear in mind when attempting to online date. And I thought, should I share them with the internet?

Well, what the hell else am I going to do with them? The cat doesn’t care. He’s napping at the moment. As he does.

THINGS YOU LEARN FROM ONLINE DATING

(Note: I’m not telling you WHAT site I signed up for; I think they’re all pretty much the same, other than you pay for some, and you don’t for others, and there’s one that hates the gays and athiests. Or at least it used to. I think I remember reading it grudgingly decided the gays and athiests had money to spend, too, and therefore changed things up a little bit.)

Many people can’t spell and make no attempt to do so. It’s not going to surprise you that I actually have it written in my profile that I’m a grammar nerd and there are extra points given to people that contact me that write well. Actual emails I’ve received on the site: “YOUR PRETY,” “what r u doin,” and “its cold in winter.” Yes, I realize that sometimes, a very good heart beats within the body of a person who cannot express themselves in their native language, but it still makes me cringe. Also, if your entire profile paragraph is an all-caps “TWO HEATS BEET AS ONE I AM LOKING FOR MY SOLEMATE” and you “flirt” with me (don’t ask, these sites are kind of ridiculous) I’m not replying to you. I’m not a cobbler. You’re going to have to keep looking for your solemate, my friend. All my best to you.

People can be very aggressive and persistent. One guy “flirted” and then “favorited” me and then sent me a message (which was “ANY LUCK HERE?” and that’s not at all off-putting) and we were not even a little compatable so I sent him one of the pre-written “no-thanks” responses and then the next time I signed on he immediately popped up as wanting to chat with me so I clicked the “I’m busy” button and seriously, dude? I feel like maybe you’re chasing me down the sidewalk. Down, boy. DOWN. (Also, why so interested, when I don’t meet any of your criteria? You wrote those damn criteria. If you hadn’t written you were only interested in young, young women and “no fatties” I MIGHT have replied, but since you did, I was all, “nope” and wrote you off as a dick.)

The particular site I signed up for doesn’t seem to understand how “matching” works. You put in your criteria (like, age and such) and the site’s supposed to send you daily matches, only my matches aren’t within my criteria, so either I’ve broken the site, or they don’t care what I like. Or maybe they know better than me. Do you think the site knows better than me, and I’d really love dating a 60-year-old with kids the same age as I am? I guess we could hit up the Golden Corral for the Senior Buffet. Thrifty!

My new husband! Only a couple years younger than Dad, so they could be besties!

My new husband! Only a couple years younger than Dad, so they could be besties!

People are either very vague or very specific in what they’re looking for. Some people don’t fill anything out, so you don’t know if you’d fit their criteria at all, and some people are all “I want a woman who’s 5’7, athletic and toned, with red hair, green eyes, 20 years younger than I am, liberal, only has a high school education, and has a cat.” This seems extremely limiting to me. Who is this person? And does she exist? I think you might have better luck contacting Warren to build you a Buffybot.

There you go, boys, I found you your perfect match.

There you go, boys, I found you your perfect match.

Apparently quite a few people don’t bother to read the information you took time to post. I get contacted by people regularly (that sounds braggy…please note that it’s not. These people are not anyone I want to hang with) and then I look at their profiles and the person they’re looking for is my exact opposite. Did you read my profile? Or did you just notice I’m female and live in your area? I’m confused.

Having conversations with these people is like pulling teeth. OK, anyone who emails me knows exactly what kind of emails I write. They look very much like one of my blog posts. I don’t know how to reply to an email of “yup” or “going to get food now.” How do you even answer that? You could start some sort of new conversation, like “let’s talk about your favorite cheeses” or something, but I’ve found in the past you’re not allowed to be kooky until the person’s known you for a while, or they think you’re insane and run off screaming. So apparently I’m in for a lot of back-and-forth of “Hi”/”Hi”/”How are you”/”Good”/”Weather’s nice today”/”Yes”/”How was work”/”Busy”/”Here too” and SINCERELY, I’m climbing the walls with boredom at this point.

Sooooo booooooreddddd

Sooooo booooooreddddd

Stop asking for more pictures. OK, I have pictures up on this site? But not, like, ALL the pictures. I’m undecided about whether or not I’m going to stay there, and also I find it creepy to put a billion photos on a dating site and then a stranger could see me at the grocery store and be all, “OMG, YOU ARE LOOKIN’ FOR LOVE ONLINE I RECOGNIZE YOU YO” or something. So people email me and their opening gambit is, “do you have more photos?” and what’s funny is, THEY hardly have any photos so I’m not sure if they want tit-shots or what the point here is. One guy was displeased and was all “I’m quitting the SITE” when I told him nope and one guy was all “OK, cool” but I’m pretty sure our conversation about dinner, weather, and such has come to a natural conclusion so we’ve broken up and I’ve already gone through the five stages of grief and I’ve come out the other side a better person for it.

What have we learned?

I’m very bad at this. I have been informed by a friend who does this on the regular I need to be more open-minded in order for this to work, and also maybe it would help if I lowered my standards a little. The former, probably. That would be better in a lot of aspects in my life. The latter…I don’t know. How can you force yourself to be attracted to someone? I’ve only had my mind changed twice, romantically, about someone (I mean, from my first impression to falling for them) in my life, and I’m kind of old. Maybe some people can become attracted to someone after some time and getting to know someone, but I’m weird about such things. I like the click. Everyone who’s important in my life, who’s been long-term important in my life, either romantically or on a friendship level: there’s been that click, where it’s like meeting someone you’ve known all along but have been separated from for whatever reason, and then you found them again. Is that naïve, waiting for that? Yeah, maybe. Is it likely I’ll get over that? Probably not, but I suppose anything can happen.

If anyone wants to tell me a., how to do this correctly, b., if there’s a dating site for internet geeks who like books and where people can SPELL, dammit, where I would be in high demand, or c., that they have a brother/cousin/male BFF I’d be perfect for, I’m down for all the advice. Comment it up, yo.

Stay tuned, jellybeans. WHAT WILL HAPPEN NEXT. Will Amy go on an actual out-of-the-house date with one of these people? Will she give up and delete her whole profile because the whole thing gives her the willies? Will she be psychokilled by an internet murderer? ONLY TIME WILL TELL.

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How many times a week do you shave? If you answer incorrectly, we may have to kill you.

I know! Don’t fret! Here I am! It’s been a busy few days. There was an overnight guest (MOM!) and delicious-dinner-eating and play-reviewing and play-review-writing and accidentally dropping the f-bomb in front of my very religious mom (long story, I get road rage) and Dumbcat-shenanigans (he was VERY LOUD AND NAUGHTY) and manicure-giving (which was actually totally a highlight, more detail to come) and nephew-birthday-attending. And do you know what there was not? Any crying or bathroom-weepery. I am quite proud at how the weekend turned out. The only downside was I didn’t get enough sleep, there was some non-family-related drama I could totally have done without, and I got a weird sunburn where I forgot to apply sunscreen. (Shoulders and the back of my neck. Although I did apply sunscreen there. Apparently, just not enough, or it was JUST SO DAMN HOT I sweated it all off. Who knows.)

We will have WEEKEND RECAP one of these days (it’s a big week full of theater reviews – three in one week, one with a relative I haven’t seen in a while, so THAT’S exciting! – so I’m going to try to squeeze blogging in amongst all my bon vivantery) but today, as promised…

DATING TIPS FROM 1949 for the FELLAS!

Howdy, 40s man, I am here to HELP!

Howdy, 40s man, I am here to HELP!

If you all recall back many moons ago (ok, I think it was Saturday) we discussed Esquire’s dating tips for the lay-deez in 1949. If you don’t remember, you can click here and catch up, or you can read the following recap: foursomes, restaurant rage, ninja-murder, don’t hold too much liquor, always talk to bores. And young Brando is hot. But, as one of my VERY INTELLIGENT COMMENTERS mentioned, I totally forgot a hottie from back in the day; I will rectify that now.

Young Paul Newman. I am SO SORRY for the oversight; he was a little too young for the movies in 1949, but we can look at him anyway. RAWR.

Young Paul Newman. I am SO SORRY for the oversight; he was a little too young for the movies in 1949, but we can look at him anyway. RAWR.

So! Our tips for the ladies were totally helpful; I’m sure I’m going to be getting invited to many tip-related weddings soon. I didn’t forget you, fellas! I know you’re all “OMG AMY HELP! I AM CLUELESS IN THE WAYS OF CATCHING A LADYPERSON!”

Well, tip one is, don’t say “catching” or “ladyperson,” but I digress.

Esquire was totally helpful for men of the 40s, too! 

So without further ado, let’s see what we’ve got for you! (That may or may not be a euphemism, depending on how well this goes.)

Do you use the continental approach, based on the belief that an immediate pass flatters a woman?

I can assure you THIS Continental would never bore anyone!

I can assure you THIS Continental would never bore anyone!

This is the average man’s greatest mistake. If a pass, on first acquaintance, doesn’t insult a girl it at least bores her.

OK. I’m already confused. What exactly is meant by “pass?” Like, a bad pickup line? Or, since it was the 40s, just talking to her? I’m going to assume it means bad pickup line. And if that’s the case, then, yes. It probably will insult her. (Or, more likely, make her roll her eyes, laugh, and walk away.) I don’t know if it would BORE her, though. I mean, watching paint dry is boring. Having a guy say “Are your legs tired? ‘Cause you been running through my dreams all night” is ANNOYING and CLICHÉD, but not BORING.

Do you show your real fondness for a girl by telling her about her bad points and advising her how to improve them?

This is again an error. If you must tell her you hate her perfume or how she does her hair, wrap it up in heavy sugar coating.

Hee! “A real fondness.” Yes. I find the people that criticize my bad points are my most closest friends, confidantes, and LOVAHS. Also, “if you must tell her you hate her perfume or how she does her hair…” YOU MUSTN’T DO THAT. I suppose if you don’t like the perfume scent she wears (I mean, we’ve all known someone who wears a scent we’re not keen on, even though they, as a person, rock), maybe give her a nice bottle of perfume you DO like, and say, “I smelled this and thought you’d smell amazing wearing it” and when she does wear it, compliment it a lot, I don’t know. I’ve never had anyone cuss me out for my perfume choices. (Because DAMN, I smell amazing. I’m good at perfume.) If you don’t like how she does her hair – SHUSH IT RIGHT UP. Seriously. Or go date someone else. Her hair is none of your business, just like your combover to hide what we all know is a damn bald spot isn’t ours. Stop being controlling.

Are you getting the feeling I’m going to get angrier at the male advice than I did at the female advice? Me too.

Do you show your devotion to a woman by holding her hand or putting your arm around her when her friends are present?

Please don’t. Even a girl who is affectionate in private dislikes public mauling.

Is this a 40s thing? I don’t know that this is a big deal now. I don’t know that putting your arm around someone or holding their hand is a public “mauling.” Well, unless you’re a bear, or like Vincent from Beauty and the Beast. Are you Vincent from Beauty and the Beast? Then I can’t help you with dating advice, go hang out in the sewers.

He seems very mauly, right?

He seems very mauly, right?

Can you describe the dress or hat worn by the last two girls you took out?

If not, notice and comment on the next few. Women appreciate having men notice the efforts they make over their appearance.

I’m so glad we don’t have to wear hats in this day and age. I hate hats. They always make my head hot, and make my hair all squashed in the hat-area. Is this question a test? “QUICK! DESCRIBE CLOTHING ITEMS!” Yes. It’s nice to say nice things about what your date is wearing. I don’t take umbrage with this question. I do, however, take umbrage with hats.

One of these is not a hat. It's a cowl. You can't pull one over on me!

One of these is not a hat. It’s a cowl. You can’t pull one over on me! Get it? Cowl? Pull one over? HA!

Do you have a double code about drunkenness for men and women when they are together?

If a man has to get drunk, he’ll be more attractive if he restricts this behavior to stag company.

We gonna hang? Cool. But leave your Zimas at home, dude, they didn't even have those in the 40s.

We gonna hang? Cool. But leave your Zimas at home, dude, they didn’t even have those in the 40s.

Whoa. Where are you going to find all those male deer? Like, are you going to break into a zoo? You could get totally injured, not to mention, it’s not at all cool to get drunk around wild animals. They might impale you with their horns. That’s possible also a euphemism.

Oh, stag is an old-timey way to say “only penises need apply?” Great, good, sorry for the confusion. So this tip is telling you not to get drunk around women. Well, I guess. Whatever. That seems old-fashioned, but this is the 40s, what can I tell you.

Do you sometimes take a girl out on parties of four or more, as a change from twosomes?

A good idea. A girl may feel hurt if you never ask her to meet your other friends.

MORE TALK OF FOURSOMES! Or even MORE than foursomes! ORGIES, PEOPLE, THE FORTIES ARE HAVIN’ AN ORGY!

Yes, a girl might feel hurt if you never ask her to meet your other friends. She might think you’re keeping her as a dirty secret in the closet, only good for twosomes and not good enough for PUBLIC twosomes. OR ORGIES. Unless, again, you’re Vincent from Beauty and the Beast; then the girl might be all “Yeah, let’s stay in the sewer and play Risk again tonight, what do you say? I think I’m getting really good at it.”

This is the NEW Vincent. He's not as mauly. But his eyes turn yellow when he's pissed, or having sex. I mean, so I hear. I don't...um...watch this show or anything. Heh.

This is the NEW Vincent. He’s not as mauly. But his eyes turn yellow when he’s pissed, or having sex. I mean, so I hear. I don’t…um…watch this show or anything. Heh.

Do you make distinctions between the jokes you’d tell a man in the club and those you’d tell a girl in a park automobile?

Almost no women like bathroom jokes or jokes with dirty words.

What’s a park automobile? Like, a park ranger’s car? Oh, it’s a typo and it means PARKED automobile? Were there no copyeditors in 1949? Urgh. Probably they were all women and they were busy buying hats and having foursomes.

PARK CAR!

PARK CAR!

ALMOST no women like bathroom jokes or jokes with dirty words. Especially when you’re in a park automobile. Because nothing says “put your hand on my gear shift, little lady, let’s get this old-timey automobile up to 40 miles per hour” than “HA HA DID YOU HEAR THE ONE ABOUT THE HUGE TURD?”

But apparently, some women must like that. Because almost means SOME do. So keep looking, bub, and someday you’ll find your lady of flatulence.

Do you tell a woman she’s beautiful, even if she isn’t?

This habit hurts nobody and makes a lot of girls happier.

Well, it hurts the girl you’re lying to, who now thinks you think she’s beautiful when she apparently is a hosebeast. Stop lying. If she’s not beautiful, just don’t mention it. Is that so hard? Talk about something else, for the love of Pete. Also, why are you dating her if you don’t think she’s pretty? Were you blinded in a terrible acid experiment in science class or something?

Do you ask an attractive girl — who is probably busy most evenings — to call you up sometime when she’s free?

Don’t do this: you may always ask a popular girl far enough ahead of time to find a free evening.

Also, she probably has the clap, so ask out the dog-faced girl from the last question, you’ll be less apt to have your dick rot off.

Do you plan your evenings with a woman ahead of time or leave the choice of amusement up to her?

It’s much more flattering for a man to announce the evening’s program, showing he has given thought to her amusement.

“TONIGHT WE WILL BE AMUSING OURSELVES WITH GAMES OF CHANCE, AND ALSO EATING SHELLFISH.”

“But I’m allergic to shellf-“

“SHUSH. I MAKE THE PLANS, AS I HAVE A PENIS.”

Do you believe it necessary in the modern age to push in a girl’s chair for her and to light her cigarettes?

These small courtesies mean a lot to a girl.

“May I light your cigarette?”

“I don’t smoke.”

SMOKE IT, I SAID!

SMOKE IT, I SAID!

“YOU’LL SMOKE AND LIKE IT. ESQUIRE SAYS IT MEANS A LOT TO YOU. NOW STICK THIS UNFILTERED CANCER STICK IN YOUR MOUTHHOLE WHILE I POKE A MATCH NEAR YOUR FACE, BABYLOVE.”

Do you ever tell a girl you love her, under the spell of the moment, when you suspect that you won’t tomorrow?

This is a dirty trick and if you do, you ought to be ashamed of yourself. Moreover, the word will soon get around to other women.

Is anyone else getting the feeling that “under the spell of the moment” means…um…in the midst of…unloading?

No? Just me? Great. Good. Grand.

Oh, maybe it means in the HEAT of the moment. You go, Asia. You go, you timeless bastards.

Oh, maybe it means in the HEAT of the moment. You go, Asia. You go, you timeless bastards.

Well, we learned up above that girls don’t like things that are dirty, except some do, so I guess keep looking for the filthy ones. And stop lying to women. You know we’re gossipmongers, and we’ll tell everyone you’re a lying liar who lies about being in the spell of moments.

How many times a week do you shave?

Once a day is minimum, if you care what women think of you.

Forty-two times a day is OCD, if you care what doctors think of you.

(Also, did 40s women hate beards? HEY! 40s WOMEN! I WILL TAKE YOUR BEARDY REJECTS AS I TOTALLY HAVE A BEARD-LOVE GOING ON ALL OVER HERE!)

Would you dine a girl expensively and not buy her flowers, or economize on the place and bring her at least a gardenia?

Most women would prefer having flowers and less to eat.

“I brought you effing ROSES, the least you could do is eat from the free BREAD BASKET and stop WHINING about being HUNGRY!”

(I’m also in tears of laughter about the “at LEAST a GARDENIA” thing. The poor sad gardenia! The least of the flowers! I mean, it could have been road-weeds. Count your blessings, I guess.)

Aw, they're totally pretty, too! What's with the gardenia-hatred?

Aw, they’re totally pretty, too! What’s with the gardenia-hatred?

If your hostess at a dance is obviously having a whirl, do you consider it necessary to dance with her?

You always should, as a matter of good manners.

“Having a whirl” is most definitely a euphemism, right?

Yeah, I thought so. Remember what I said earlier about the clap, boys.

Do you try to arouse a girl’s interest by boasting of your success with other women?

Don’t ever do this!

Listen, I take offense. You NEED to arouse women. It’s totally mandatory.

What? Oh, read the rest of the sentence?

Shit. Yeah, don’t talk about all the wick-dipping you’ve been doing all over town with the party hostesses, guys.

Jeez, I have like the worst reading comprehension ever today.

Do you consider it a young girl’s own business whether she gets tight and is indiscreet when she’s out with you?

Keep an inexperienced girl from getting tight, if you have to spank her, and don’t let any woman become indiscreet through liquor. Triumphs over drunken women don’t help any man.

I don’t…what can I even say about this one…um…there’s “tight” and there’s spanking and…

Well, other than SO MANY NAUGHTINESSES GOING ON, at least it’s not advocating date-rape. Way to go, 40s, way to go.

If a girl you’re fond of asks you to be nice to her cousin with adenoids and buck teeth do you cut her off your list?

Not pleasant, but if you rally around and give Cousin Belle a whirl, you’ll soon be known as the nicest man in town.

Or the biggest loser who does whatever anyone tells him. Or, if you follow the instructions above, you’re totally gonna get Cousin Belle preggers, and THEN you’re stuck, dude. Put a raincoat on that thing if you have to tell the ugly girl she’s beautiful, is all I’m saying, here.

Also, “not pleasant.” Well, I bet Cousin Belle doesn’t think it’s especially pleasant to have to hang with you, you douchekebob.

If you had a quarrel with a girl — in which she is clearly in the wrong — will you wait for her to apologize before calling her up or risk being a door mat and do it first?

Be a door mat — it’s easier for you to call a girl than for her to call you.

“In which she is clearly in the wrong.”

As they are. As they ALWAYS are.

It’s easier for you to call her? Why, is she chained up in the basement or something? Has someone cut off all her dialin’ fingers?

Oh. Because PRIDE. Because STUPIDLY MISPLACED LADY-PRIDE. Gotcha.

Well! What did we learn TODAY, men?

Um. Mostly, I don’t know about all of you, but I learned I have no interest in dating a 40s man, even if he’s a super-hot time traveler who looks like Newman or Brando. Because he’s going to set my hair on fire, not let me eat while shoving flowers in my face, take me out in park cars while restraining himself from making fart jokes, be all clean-shaven and obsessive about it, and insult both my hair and my perfume.

All of these? Total recipes for the hotness. Right? Right, ladies? Ladies? Where are you? You all ran off with young Newman, didn’t you. DAMMIT. Don’t come running back to me if he never lets you drink and expects you to wear all the hats.

These women don't look as upset as I would to have been decapitated and put in hatboxes. Also, one of them is wearing a Robin Hood hat, I think. Hmm. Perplexing.

These women don’t look as upset as I would to have been decapitated and put in hatboxes. Also, one of them is wearing a Robin Hood hat, I think. Hmm. Perplexing.


I knew I was in trouble when it asked “do you either play bridge or dance really well?”

You know what we all like? And need?

Excellent dating advice.

Remember a billion years ago (FINE, it was like a little less than two years ago) we talked about dating advice from 1938? And it was mostly “don’t get drunk” and “wear a brassiere” and “don’t get too familiar with the headwaiter?” And THOSE were really helpful tips, right? I mean, I know they’ve saved me from a TON of terrible situations over the last almost-two-years. Shut up, they might have. You don’t know my life. I might very well be having all KINDS of torrid affairs I don’t talk about on the interwebs.

SIGH FINE, if I was having a torrid affair, I’d probably at least drop hints about it on the interwebs. Or I’d be in a better mood or something.

So today I found ANOTHER super-helpful dating advice article, and the first thing I thought (well, after “YAY THESE’LL BE HELPFUL FOR ALL MY TORRID AFFAIRS!”) was “well, because you’re such a humanitarian, you need to be sharing these tips with the blog-people. I mean, keeping them all to yourself would be a total dick move, yo.”

So, let’s discuss dating advice from 1949!

Now, since this is 11 years after the LAST dating advice, it’s BOUND to be better, right? And also, 1949 is the year Amy’s Dad was born, so probably this is the sort of thing he grew up with. AND, this advice is from ESQUIRE, you guys. If there’s any magazine you can trust about dating advice, it’s Esquire. Right?

Oh, shit, this is going to be bad.

This is from a questionnaire so ladies of 1949 can make themselves more attractive to the opposite sex. Let’s see some men from 1949, so we can see what we’re getting.

Hmm. OK, I can work with this.

Hmm. OK, I can work with this.

Oh. Yeah, ok, this is nice. OK. Yep.

Oh. Yeah, ok, this is nice. OK. Yep.

A-fricking-dorable. 1949, you're doing alright. Is that all you've got for me?

A-fricking-dorable. 1949, you’re doing alright. Is that all you’ve got for me?

Oh. OH MY. OK. OK, 1949, you win. YOU WIN SO HARD.

Oh. OH MY. OK. OK, 1949, you win. YOU WIN SO HARD.

OK, so now we know what we’re playing for, ladies…oh, shit. Wait a minute. I’m being totally exclusionary. Some of my lady-readers like ladies themselves! They will like to know who THEY are playing for. I feel like a heel. An absolute louse. (Like that? I’m getting you in the 1940s mood with the lingo.) Wait just a minute.

Good, right? Sorry I forgot about you, ladies. I'm making up for it. Wait til you see.

Good, right? Sorry I forgot about you, ladies. I’m making up for it. Wait til you see.

Prettiest eyes ever. I love this woman, no joke.

Prettiest eyes ever. I love this woman, no joke.

I like young Marilyn before she started looking like life was wearying her.

I like young Marilyn before she started looking like life was wearying her.

OK, I ended with a princess. I made it up to you for being an inadvertent sexist, right? Good. Sorry. Love your faces.

OK, I ended with a princess. I made it up to you for being inadvertently exclusionary, right? Good. Sorry. Love your faces.

OK. NOW we know what we’re playing for. Let’s see how we get these lovely ladies (and gents) to fall crazy head-over-heels for us, what do you say, ladies? Great! Here we go! HELPFUL TIPS!

Do you bring the names of other men into the conversation to give yourself a sought-after appearance?

Don’t. This may give a man a sense of inferiority — he is uncomfortable with you, and soon drifts away to someone else. It may make him wonder how much talking you do about him.

Um. OK. So our first tip is don’t talk about any other men, ever. Shit. Some of my best friends are men? So I…just shouldn’t mention them? Like, ever? But what if Andreas tells me an awesome sciency thing, or BFF make me laugh and laugh about something? Hmm.

KEEP THINKING OF YOUNG BRANDO, AMY! YOU CAN DO THIS!

(I think it’d take more than name-dropping to give me a “sought-after appearance.” Heh.)

Do you wear clothes that make you a little more up-to-the-minute than the other women in your set?

Good — provided your taste is reliable and that the clothes suit you. Men may rant about the “crazy hat” but they swell with pride when their lady companions arouse admiring stares.

I…am confused. Do I need to wear a crazy hat? I own two baseball caps, a wool beret, a reversible fishman’s hat that keeps the sun off my face, and some winter beanies. Are those crazy enough? What if I pinned a brooch to them? Or tied some yarn to them or something? I sure do want my man to swell with pride. Yes. Yes, that’s a euphemism.

I am SO wearing this shit on my next date. I WILL BE SOUGHT-AFTER! By carnivores!

I am SO wearing this shit on my next date. I WILL BE SOUGHT-AFTER! By carnivores!

If you are asked to get another girl for a foursome, do you pick one obviously less attractive than you are?

You are unwise to do so. Get the most glamorous girl you know, and both men will be pleased.

Wait a minute. When did I agree to have a foursome? I don’t even remember to agreeing to a THREESOME. You can’t just spring a foursome on someone, 40s man, even if you are Brando. And where am I getting this ugly girl to fill out our foursome? This whole scenario is troublesome. (Also, I’m pretty sure, no matter how attractive the girl I get is, both men are gonna be pleased. We’re having a FOURSOME, yo, that’s like the BEST THING EVER for a 40s man. They don’t have porn on-demand on their computers like men today do.)

What? The foursome is referring to a DATE? Oh, well, man, I misunderstood THAT, now didn’t I? Carry on.

Do you make a point of building up other women, even those you dislike, in discussing them with a man?

This is sound practice. But don’t put it on so thick that it sounds like a line.

Well! Sound practice! Good show! Pip pip! Righto! And heavens forefend I rehearse what I’m saying so it sounds like a line, right? Wouldn’t want to sound REHEARSED on my date. But I do have to remember all these tips. But don’t sound rehearsed. SO MUCH TO REMEMBER. *pant pant pant*

Do men marvel at your capacity for holding liquor?

A great mistake: it gives you a fast reputation and runs into money — the man’s money — besides.

I am sitting here thinking about how much liquor I can hold. I’m thinking probably two or three bottles per hand? Like, if I were to hold the necks of the bottles.

Oh, DRINKING the liquor? Well, shit, wouldn’t want a fast reputation. I’m not Lightning McQueen. And OH NO! Wouldn’t want to spend the man’s money! I mean, he’s got to rent the hotel room for our hot foursome later, I suppose, needs to save his simoleons and such.

Look, "Esquire," I found your totally classy liquor store!

Look, “Esquire,” I found your totally classy liquor store!

How many comfortable chairs are there in your living room?

At least two, I hope. No man can fall in love unless he has a chance to relax and he can’t if either of you sits bolt upright.

“No man can fall in love unless he has a chance to relax.” Huh. Is that a rule? Well, THAT’S what I’ve been doing wrong? I have NO chairs in my living room! I have ONE COUCH! And four kitchen chairs, but one is broken and Dad has to fix it! Oh, well, no one’s ever going to fall in love in my non-love-conducive living room. THIS IS THE WORST. I need to go buy two beanbag chairs or something so I can gets me a MAN, yo.

What about this? Think I should get a couple of these? Could a man relax on one of these?

What about this? Think I should get a couple of these? Could a man relax on one of these?

Do you keep men interested by hinting that later — not tonight — you’ll be really demonstrative?

This is a low trick and one that a surprising number of men see through at once. If you kiss a man, it should be for your own pleasure and not to reward him.

A SURPRISING number! (But not all of ’em, so keep going, ladies, you might get a dumb one!) “Hey, honey, this date was the best, even though you kept talking about foursomes and wouldn’t buy me a drink and hate my kitchen chairs. Let’s do it again. WHOA NELLY! Get offa me! But maybe NEXT time, we can…hang a towel rack. If you know what I mean. And I think you do. What do I mean? Oh, I have this towel rack I need help hanging, but also maybe we could have all the sex afterward.”

I have to say I’m surprised 40s Esquire gives shit one about your pleasure, though, sincerely.

Do you make things easier for a man by suggesting that he climb into a car first, if he’s driving, or by asking him not to stand up when you come into the room?

This is an error — men know that they are supposed to show these signs of consideration to a girl and they respect her more if she takes them as a matter of course.

Just shut up and let him treat you like a lady, baby. Don’t mouth off. UGH. What the hell is WRONG with you?

Do you ever embarrass a man by telling him he’s good-looking or has big muscles or is too, too intelligent?

Try it! Almost any man can stand almost any amount of flattery, however obvious, without embarrassment or surprise.

“You’re too, too intelligent. No, seriously. TOO TOO INTELLIGENT. I’ve never met anyone like you. What? You’re not surprised? Or embarrassed? What if I told you you’re smarter than EVERY MAN IN THE WHOLE WORLD? Still not surprised? Not even a little embarrassed? Hello? Are you…honey? HONEY? Oh, shit, I think my date’s dead, this is just the worst. Where am I going to find another one of these?”

Do you knit when you are having a cozy, fireside evening with a man?

For some reason, men hate to see a woman doing anything with her hands when talking to her. Undivided attention is best.

I can think of something a man would like to see a woman doing with her hands while talking to her.

OMG, you guys are DIRTY. I of course meant making him a sandwich. Get your minds out of the gutter!

Do you either play bridge or dance really well?

If not, take steps to correct this at once. You’re better off if you do both well, but one talent is mandatory.

Oh, fuck. I dance like I’ve been electrocuted and card games with too many rules are the worst. I get so bored. I have a lot of talents. Can I substitute one of those? I choose “making sarcastic asides at the other numbskulls playing bridge or dancing.”

Are you so beautifully groomed that you make an average man feel like a lout when he takes you out?

Fine. Men are extremely critical of any imperfection in a girl’s neatness. If he feels like a lout once, the average escort will take pains to be better-dressed himself the next time.

I don’t think any man has to worry about this with me. No, sincerely. I’m lucky if I get out the door without my clothing being crooked, stained, or ripped somewhere strange. And my hair…well. Unruly. Just so, so unruly. Come at me, louts! I’m available!

Do you, when you have first met a really attractive man, clinch your future acquaintance by some polite variation of “Come up and see me sometime”?

It often helps out on the occasions when the man is too shy to make the first advance himself.

Aw, shy tiger. Don't be afraid! TELL HER HOW YOU FEEL!

Aw, shy tiger. Don’t be afraid! TELL HER HOW YOU FEEL!

Hmm. Polite variation. What about “you are pretty, I would like to kiss your mouth with my mouth?” or “Do you like popsicles? I ALSO LIKE POPSICLES LET’S GET MARRIED FOR ALL OF LIFE?” I mean, for example. Also, “too shy” is often “disinterested,” so don’t confuse the two. Best of luck with that and all.

Do you keep your friendships warm by chatty calls to your men friends at their offices?

This is fatal.

By “friendships” do you mean “relationships” and by “men friends” do you mean “boyfriends?” Why are you being all coy all of a sudden?

And if I call my fella at work, is he going to put a hit out on me? I don’t like the sound of this “fatal” thing.

Teach you to call your guy at work to see how his day's going.

Teach you to call your guy at work to see how his day’s going.

Do you use artificial conversation gambits like “What movie would you choose if you had to see it every week for a year?” to start talk with a shy dinner partner?

A very good plan — someone has to start the conversation and a question like this can keep it rolling for quite awhile.

This can also backfire. What if the guy says Fried Green Tomatoes and nothing else? Well, first, you’d be all, “WHAT?” because it’s 1949 and that shit doesn’t exist yet. But then you’d be like, “why’d he say that?” and “what a weird choice!” and “do you think he’d pay if I ordered a vodka tonic, or would that be fatal, too?”

Do you save yourself wear and tear by not troubling to entertain men bores?

A grave mistake. Bores have their uses since a clever girl can practice her conversation on them, with nothing much to lose. Besides, they often have attractive friends.

True story: I thought this said “man hores” and I was like “HA HA FUNNY TYPO FOR WHORES!”

Hee, “men bores.” Also, this is the worst thing. Just the worst. A., you’re practicing conversation on some poor boring sap who thinks he has a chance to grope up under your crinolines? And B., you’re using him to get to his less-boring friends? Even if his less-boring friend is Brando, that shit is MEAN, yo. You’re never going to be invited to the foursome now.

Do you suffer from indecision when ordering dinner or drinks in a restaurant with a man?

This maddens them — learn to make up your mind rapidly.

This “maddens” them? What, are they going to throw a chair through a window, Hulk-style?

MAKE UP YOUR MIND, WOMAN, WE HAVE A FOURSOME TO ATTEND!

MAKE UP YOUR MIND, WOMAN, WE HAVE A FOURSOME TO ATTEND!

I often cannot decide if I want chicken or fish or shellfish or something vegetably and it takes me a while to decide. If my manfriend/man hore can’t wait for me, he can go off and be fatal all by himself. Too many choices makes me think I’m making a mistake.

Also, I thought I wasn’t allowed to order drinks because that meant the man was spending his simoleons?

This is the worst.

This was spectacularly unhelpful. What have we learned?

NOTHING.

Except that people from the 40s were pretty hot, because black and white photos make everything better.

There are tips for men at the bottom of that post. I can totally talk about the tips for men tomorrow. Oh, shit, wait, no, Mom’s here tomorrow, and she doesn’t care for blogging. Monday, then. What do you think, men, need some super-helpful dating tips? You’re probably going to get ’em anyway, just letting you know, but I was making it look like it was a democratic process.

HAPPY SATURDAY! I am going to bed because tomorrow is work and mom and dinner and play and I will no doubt at some point get overwhelmed and need to cry in a bathroom. Because reasons. Won’t THAT be fun! Hooray for visiting family!


Using your common sense and ignoring your heart: a how-to guide

Now that I am an expert on both the movie and the television show Catfish – meaning, I’ve watched the movie and all three of the episodes available to me on my cable’s On-Demand – I think we need to have a chat, people of the internet.

It seems that some of you are being very, very foolish about your hearts.

Now, I know. I KNOW. I’m not really the best one to talk. I’m a walking conundrum. I’m very guarded and very wary of people – all people, not just internet people – but once you win me over, I’m yours. And I’m rabidly loyal and I wear my heart on my sleeve with those few people that I allow myself to trust. Now, usually this works out just fine. Sometimes, as happens to everyone, these relationships implode. Then I am crushed, because, well, your sleeve is not the best place to wear your heart. It makes SUCH a mess on your best blouses, seriously. Blood just NEVER comes out.

I give everything my all. It’s both a curse and a blessing, sometimes. I know no other way.

That’s neither here nor there, though. From watching all the Catfish, I have learned the following about people, and it is horrifying.

THEY ARE FALLING IN LOVE WITH LONG-DISTANCE PEOPLE THEY MEET ONLINE WITHOUT TALKING TO THEM ON THE PHONE OR SKYPING WITH THEM.

OK, listen. I can totally, totally understand the power of words. It is very easy to get swoony feelings over someone who gives good email. It absolutely is. I’m not even making fun of you for that.

I get it. You get something like this, you'd be all twitterpated. Totally understandable.

I get it. You get something like this, you’d be all twitterpated. Totally understandable.

However, if you find yourself falling in mutual crush for someone you only know through email/Facebook/Twitter/some other text-based service, you owe it to yourself to do the following two things:

  • ask to speak to them on the phone;
  • ask to Skype with them.

If they refuse to do these things repeatedly, and give you excuses like “I don’t have a cell phone” or “I don’t own a computer that has Skype capabilities” THERE IS SOMETHING HINKY GOING ON.

You have to be wise about these things. I am completely emotional, and again, I am not the right person, probably, to be giving you this advice. I understand being all, “BUT I LOVE HIM HE DOES NOT HAVE TO PROVE HIMSELF FOR ME!” and I understand when your heart tells you things, it screams louder than your head, sometimes. I get that.

But you have to listen to your head. YOU HAVE TO.

If the person you’re internet-dating and telling all your secrets to and falling in love with and such says they don’t have a cell phone – well, think about this. They’re online a lot, I assume? If someone lives their life online, odds are very good they have a cell phone. And therefore, they are lying to you for some reason. Now, if they tell you they have a cell phone but limited minutes or something, maybe. I had that plan up until recently. But if that’s the case, they probably have a land line, and could talk to you on that. People in this day and age have phones. I’m sorry to break this to you. If they say they don’t, they are lying to you. And if they’re lying to you, they’re hiding something. (My mom, when I mentioned this to her, said, “NO! I don’t have a cell phone!” and I said, “Yes, Mom, but you aren’t exactly catfishing people online, now, are you?” and she said, “Most of the words in your sentence there were gibberish to me”  so she’s not a good example of people who don’t have a cell phone. Dad has a cell phone but it isn’t a smart phone and sometimes people text him on it and he refuses to text them back because, per Dad, “I have old fat fingers and I don’t know how to use that tiny little keyboard.”)

See? Everyone has a cell phone. EVERYONE.

See? Everyone has a cell phone. EVERYONE.

And, piggybacking on this, if you ask them to Skype (and you should, because listen, pretty words are awesome, and yes, you can fall in love with someone’s words, you absolutely can, but you don’t know you’re in love until you see the person; you can say you’re not materialistic until the cows come home, my darling dearests, but it’s not materialistic, it’s common sense. We are attracted to some people and we are not attracted to others. It’s just the way of the world. It doesn’t mean you’re an asshole. It just means you are human) and they say they can’t because they don’t have a computer, or don’t know how, or various other reasons, blah blah – well, again, most likely, that person is a liar. Now, I didn’t have a webcam for the first year or so I was blogging. So I couldn’t have Skyped. I suppose there are SOME valid reasons for not being able to do so. But I GOT a webcam. (I still haven’t really Skyped. I tried once. It was disastrous and I think I broke Skype, seriously. It froze a LOT. Why does it always seem to work so seamlessly on television?)

See? Look how much fun they're having. That seems unfair.

See? Look how much fun they’re having. That seems unfair.

Also, the Catfish-guy taught me a very smart thing (BAM, Mom, who SAYS the television won’t teach me things?): if you are friends with someone on Facebook and they only have a few friends, that’s a red flag. Also, if you take their photos and put them into Google image search, you can see if they ganked them from someone else’s profile and used them as their own photo. (I might be naive, but had no idea people were doing this shit until I saw the movie Catfish. It just seems like the shadiest thing alive. But it seems a LOT of people are doing this. THIS IS YET ANOTHER REASON TO LOCK YOUR SHIT DOWN, YO. If you put your Facebook profile to public, PEOPLE WILL STEAL YOUR PHOTOS AND USE THEM TO NEFARIOUSLY WOO LADIES AND/OR MENFOLKS!!!)

Listen, I’m going to tell you a secret. Probably it’s something you’ve heard before, but you need to pay more attention this time.

If something seems too good to be true, it probably is.

This cat is lying to you, yo. Also, it has crazy eyes.

This cat is lying to you, yo. Also, it has crazy eyes.

If you meet a super-hot person on the internet who says all the right things and seems super-into you, well, that’s awesome, sometimes things like this happen, I’m not telling you they never ever happen. But if they refuse to talk to you on the phone…and aren’t always where they say they’ll be…and won’t Skype with you because they have plenty of photos online, isn’t that enough for you?…well, listen.

There’s going to be a little voice inside your head telling you “something is wrong here, sunshine.”

And your stupid, stupid heart, which is probably a little lonely and broken like many of our hearts are, is going to shout back, “Shut up, head! He/she is perfect and wonderful! He/she loves me! He/she is perfect for me and the exact person I’ve been waiting for my entire life! Head, you are NOT going to screw this up for me, he/she has a perfectly good reason for not being able to do these perfectly normal things SHUT UP HEAD!!!”

I know. I KNOW. It’s not what you WANT to do? But you need to listen to your head.

Now, listen. If you’re just friends with the person, it doesn’t matter as much, really. I have internet friends I haven’t spoken to on the phone or Skyped with. I trust that they are who they say they are and not lying to me. But I’m also not in love with them. I *love* them, sure, but I’m not making plans to spend the rest of my life with them in a sexual way, you know? If I’m going to invite someone all up in my business I want to know they’re who they say they are. I’m kooky like that. I also have fairly good radar. Or, if not “good” radar, I’m very mistrusting. So since it takes me a super-long time to trust someone, and if they do even the SLIGHTEST thing that makes me think, “NO THIS SEEMS WEIRD” (even if really it probably isn’t) I don’t bother continuing on with the relationship, I’m usually not overly fooled by crazies and/or loonies. Hopefully. Maybe. Who knows, though, I could be getting catfished left and right and probably wouldn’t know it because according to this show THESE PEOPLE ARE VERY GOOD AT THIS. And there are SO MANY OF THEM ZOMG.

(Also, I object to the fact that the Catfish show makes it look like all of us who live on the internet are crazies who lie for a living. I’m only PARTIALLY crazy and I don’t get paid for lying, thank you, TV show, I do it for FREE. Dad said, “Of COURSE you’re all crazy. I love you, but I think you might be crazy.” But this post is already mondo-long so that’s a story for another day, now, isn’t it?)

I know. It all seems very exciting and very romantic to have a long-distance internet boyfriend or girlfriend. (I’m specifying long-distance here, because if they’re local? MEET UP WITH THEM, YO. It’s like Skype but BETTER. There can be HUGGING. And other things. That I will not go into. Ahem.) And I know quite a few people who have met their significant others through the interwebs and guess what? They weren’t even stabbed to death. I KNOW! SHOCKING REVELATIONS!

Just use your head. That’s what it’s there for. It’s amazing to me that you’re not doing this. Don’t sell yourself short just because you think it’s finally your turn to have a super-romantic time. That’s ridiculous and how you get either murdered or your identity stolen, or in the smaller-scale of things, you just feel like a total asshat when the person you fell in love with turns out to be a mentally-unstable teenage boy or a lonely gramma or something.

Also, people who are catfishing others, just stop it. I think you’re probably insane, so you don’t understand what you’re doing is wrong, but IT IS NOT FUNNY IT IS HORRIBLE. You don’t earn someone’s trust and piss all over it. You just don’t do this. Ever. If you do, you know what they say about karma, right? YOU ARE GOING TO BE EATEN BY KARMA’S SHARP SHARP TEETH YOU ASSHOLE.

Just be careful, ok, internettians? It’s wonderful to fall in love. It’s the best thing in the whole entire world, followed closely by really, really good chocolate. And also maybe delicious pudding. Shit, now I want some pudding. But if it seems weird…IT PROBABLY IS.

This is common sense. You all have it. Please use it. Thank you. I worry, you see.


The sex part always gets in the way.

Harry: You realize of course that we could never be friends.
Sally: Why not?
Harry: What I’m saying is — and this is not a come-on in any way, shape or form — is that men and women can’t be friends because the sex part always gets in the way.
Sally: That’s not true. I have a number of men friends and there is no sex involved.
Harry: No you don’t.
Sally: Yes I do.
Harry: No you don’t.
Sally: Yes I do.
Harry: You only think you do.
Sally: You say I’m having sex with these men without my knowledge?
Harry: No, what I’m saying is they all want to have sex with you.
Sally: They do not.
Harry: Do too.
Sally: They do not.
Harry: Do too.
Sally: How do you know?
Harry: Because no man can be friends with a woman that he finds attractive. He always wants to have sex with her.
Sally: So you’re saying that a man can be friends with a woman he finds unattractive?
Harry: No, you pretty much want to nail ’em too.
Sally: What if they don’t want to have sex with you?
Harry: Doesn’t matter because the sex thing is already out there so the friendship is ultimately doomed and that is the end of the story.
Sally: Well, I guess we’re not going to be friends then.
Harry: Guess not.

You all recognize this, right? Good. It’s flawed, because it’s from a movie where the two WEREN’T friends – well, not ultimately, anyway, they ended up being in love with each other, so, more than friends – but it’s an interesting argument. One that’s been going on for a very long time.

Can women and men be friends? Can they really? Or, as Harry thinks, is it completely out of the realm of possibility?

Well, according to Scientific American, the answer is…Harry was right. Men and women cannot be friends. Not just friends, anyway.

HIGH FIVE! One of these people wants to epuhemize with the other.

Shit. This is terrible news. What am I going to tell…well, hell. All my male friends. Who actually outnumber my female friends, because, ever since I was a kid, I’ve always been better with male friends than female ones. Not because I want to get in their pants (or, as far as I know, they want to get into mine), but because, due to deep and abiding childhood trauma, I have a lot of trouble trusting women. I’m not saying I don’t have SOME female friends. I do, and the ones I have, I love a great deal. I’m just saying that childhood issues take a long time to resolve, or possibly never get resolved, and what you’re comfortable with is what you’re comfortable with.

My best friend is male. We’ve known each other for…how long, now, BFF, fifteen years this year, right? Fifteen years in August? Damn, we didn’t even celebrate that. SORRY BFF! Fifteen years is…what…crystal? Huh. Did you need me to send you some crystal, BFF? I mean, I could. But I don’t know that you’d want it. I don’t think you’re sitting around sippin’ from crystal wineglasses. Or are you? I haven’t seen you in YEARS. (BFF, I hate that I haven’t seen you in years.) Maybe you’re all fancy now, I don’t know. (Please don’t be all fancy, what would we have in common?)

Here, BFF, light of my life, I found you this crystal skull. HAPPY 15 YEARS I LOVE YOU!!!

But Scientific American says we can’t be friends. And, why? Why can’t we be friends?

Because of science.

Researchers (where? I don’t know. The link is broken. That’s suspect. Also, I find it strange I can’t find this on the Scientific American site, but only on Yahoo and mentioned here and there on the interwebs. Is my Google broken, or is this all one big scam?) brought 88 pairs of same-sex undergraduate opposite-sex friendship pairs into the lab. They told them they couldn’t share the results with each other once they left, and they interviewed them separately, so as to minimize the potential bias.

What’d they ask them?

Sounds like they asked them, “So…I know you say this chick/fella’s just your friend, but you really want to bone him/her, right?”

The results were:

  • Men seemed to want to have sex with their female friends (so, Harry was right)
  • Yet, women seemed much less likely to want to have sex with their male friends
  • Men seemed to think their female friends were attracted to them, even when they weren’t
  • Women had NO IDEA their male friends wanted to sneakyfuck them
  • Men were willing to go after female friends whether or not they were in a relationship; women were more respectful of their male friends who were in relationships

This bothers me. Let me tell you why.

Although the university wasn’t named (SHADY) they said these people were undergraduates. So, using what we know (college students and undergraduates) let’s assume some things. They are probably ages 18-22, and they have probably known each other from 1-4 years.

Now, I don’t know how many of you went to college, I’m going to guess probably quite a few of you. What’s the first thing I think of when I think of college?

HORMONES RUN AMUCK.

Yeah, these are trustworthy scientific study participants. One of these people is wearing no shirt, but also a KNAPSACK.

(I’m exaggerating, it’s not the FIRST thing, but it’s one of them. At  least one of the top five.)

These are 18-22 year olds who are extendedly away from home for the first time in a living situation with OTHER 18-22 year olds and sex is EVERYWHERE and NO ONE CARES IF YOU ARE HAVING IT. Of COURSE they want to screw their friends. OF COURSE THEY DO. Also, how good of friends can they be if they’ve only known each other for a brief period of time, and at that age? At that age, you have goldfish-memory.

I’d like this study done properly, with people who have been friends for longer and who are not hormone-riddled. Well, we’re all hormone-riddled our whole lives long, but you know what I mean. Not AS hormone-soaked. People in their, say, mid-to-late 20s, early 30s, who have been friends with people of the opposite sex for 5 years or more. Would the results be the same, I wonder?

This study just makes people reading it say, “MEN THINK WITH THEIR DICKS” and that bothers me. I’m not saying I haven’t said that at one point or another in my life when I’ve been frustrated by the actions of the opposite sex; of course I have. I don’t know if you’ll meet a woman alive who hasn’t. I just think men are a little more complex than that, and I think it’s a disservice to them to just dismiss them out of hand as being controlled by their cocks. I mean, we as women fight CONSTANTLY not to be defined as “emotional” or “flighty” or “hysterical” or “attracting bears due to our lady-menses” or I don’t know what else the hell, right? This isn’t that much different. We’re all PEOPLE. We are complex and we have a lot more going on than our XX or XY chromosome pairings.

Har de har har. Things like this make me want to stab someone.

OK. Rant over. Sorry, I have to stick up for my guys. Guys can be frustrating, sure. But so can women. We all can. It’s one of the things about humans. We do weird, stupid nonsensical things, whether or not we have an innie or an outie downstairs, you know?

Also – ALSO – another reason it’s shitty to be all “ALL MEN THINK ABOUT IT SEX” is…well, why do we assume women don’t think about sex? Shh, top-secret news: WE DO. We TOTALLY do. I don’t know the statistic or anything, but I’d assume women think about it just as much as men do. Sex is awesome and why would you NOT think about it, male OR female? This whole thing is ridiculous.

Apparently, the study went one step further and DID interview older people – just in a weirdly skewed way. They asked opposite-sex friends to list positives and negatives of their friendship. This is written in a very confusing manner – here, I’ll let you read this:

Variables related to romantic attraction (e.g., “our relationship could lead to romantic feelings”) were five times more likely to be listed as negative aspects of the friendship than as positive ones. However, the differences between men and women appeared here as well. Males were significantly more likely than females to list romantic attraction as a benefit of opposite-sex friendships, and this discrepancy increased as men aged—males on the younger end of the spectrum were four times more likely than females to report romantic attraction as a benefit of opposite-sex friendships, whereas those on the older end of the spectrum were ten times more likely to do the same.

So…men think being into your friends is good, while women don’t? Hmm.

Being romantically attracted to your friends – I’m going to tell you this right now? – SUCKS. And as I’m a woman, I guess I’m in the target demographic. So maybe this is why women list this as a negative; because we’re PRACTICAL.

The movies make it seem SO FUCKING EASY. You already KNOW each other, right? So one day, you just look at each other and you realize BAM, I’ve loved this person ALL ALONG, and now I get to have sex with them AND I know how they like their pizza PLUS I know all of their bad stuff AND I STILL LIKE THEM, plus vice-versa, and then you get married and all of your friends are all “I KNEW IT! I knew it all along. Those two. AW THOSE TWO.”

Give me a fucking break, please.

Only, it doesn’t usually (barely hardly ever) end up this way. Usually, one friend crushes on the other. And the other is not interested. Then the friendship limps along all awkwardly until it dies a sad panda death.

(You all remember Ken’s post about Duckie being a sneaky fucker, right? He was also “that guy”. That sad “I’m in love with my best friend BUT I CANNOT TELL HER” guy. Here, if you didn’t read it, go read it now, you can thank me later.)

But this happens regardless of sex. This happens to men who crush on their female friends, this happens to women who crush on their male friends, and this happens (most likely) to men who fall in love with their male friends and women who fall in love with their female friends. Once someone falls in love with someone who isn’t interested, there’s a power imbalance, and the whole thing falls to shit.

(Exception to this: sometimes you can get over the crush and regain the friendship. I have a friend who was a crush-object once. I managed to get over him and we’re still friends. It was rocky going for a while there, but we’re ok now. So, sometimes you end up ok.)

Now, don’t even tell me you know someone (or are someone) who fell in love with your best friend; I know it happens, and I’m so happy it does, and yay, you. I’m so not dismissing that sometimes this happens. Of course I’m not. However, people are predictable creatures; they see one example of something, and they think, “IT CAN HAPPEN TO ME!” like with winning the lottery or whatever, and it gives everyone hope that falling in love with their best friend CAN HAPPEN TO THEM and then they get all crushed when it doesn’t. It gives people unrealistic expectations, like those movies where the nerdy girl takes off her glasses and ZOMG SHE WAS BEAUTIFUL ALL ALONG YOU GUYS!!! (Tip: if you can’t tell someone’s beautiful just because they are wearing glasses, perhaps you need to get your OWN eyes checked, because that is stupid. It’s why I was always confused by the Superman movies.)

My thoughts on this? Yes. Men and women can be friends. No, not all men want to hump us like overeager puppies. It’s stupid to think they do. I don’t care what this weird and wonky “scientific study” says. I have plenty of male friends that I’m quite sure don’t want to have sex with me. (Guys, if you do, please don’t tell me. I like being oblivious of such things.) I mean, I have some male friends I’ve known since high school. If I’ve known them that long and they’ve NEVER made any sort of overtures toward me, what, are they biding their time? That’s ridiculous. That’s a lot of time to be biding.

Scientific American, I am saddened by this. I really am. This doesn’t seem very scientific. Or overly Merkan.

ANDREAS. You are our Science Fellow. What are your thoughts on this? From a scientific point of view? Or a male point of view. Or both, that’s fine. I’d be interested in both.

Oh, and because what my parents think of something is always of import:

  • Mom thinks all of my male friends are trying to get in my pants. EVERY ONE OF THEM. And also that I’m trying to get into theirs. My mother apparently thinks everyone in the world is a sex-crazed lunatic. She says things like “I don’t know if you should talk to your male friends so much; their significant others won’t like that.” Or, “It’s a good thing those friends of yours live so far away; otherwise, they’d come over and try to have all the sex with you. THAT’S WHAT THEY DO.” And then I roll my eyes so hard I dislocate them. Can you dislocate eyes? Mom is VERY RELIGIOUS and thinks everyone’s whorey. Including (sadly) her own daughter. Who is actually kind of the opposite of whorey, to tell you the truth. Don’t you have to be having sex to be whorey? I would think so. Or is it like religion, and you can be a non-practicing whore?
  • Dad thinks the same thing, only he thinks it’s fine. And then he says, “Don’t tell your mother.” Because she would be FURIOUS at him. So, apparently, per Dad, it’s ok if I slut it up with all my male friends, as long as I don’t tell him about it because EW WE DON’T TALK ABOUT SEX AMY. When I tell him I have no interest in having sex with my male friends and I honestly think that’s kind of bullshit to assume that men and women can’t be friends without them having all the sex, he says, “Well, I saw it on the news, so it must be true.” Apparently Fox News says men and women can’t be friends? So you know it must be true, then. BOTH FAIR AND BALANCED.

So my mom thinks all men are dogs and I’m a whore and my dad thinks men and women all want to be gettin’ it on and that’s ok as long as we don’t talk about it. I don’t…are we sure I’m not adopted? Quite sure? (Is this a generational thing? No, I’m quite serious. Are there less male/female friendships in older generations because it’s just a thing that wasn’t done back in the day, maybe, and that’s why my parents are so weird about it?)

Also, this piece on The Colbert Report about this report made me giggle. DAMMIT WORDPRESS why won’t you let me embed Comedy Central videos? You are annoying me.

Harry was wrong. Except for about when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible? That part’s ok. I’m down with that, Harry. I’m totally down with that.


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