Um…guys?
🙋🏻♀️
This is the autogenerated tweet Twitter suggested to celebrate my 50th follower.
Ahem…
A. Even this TWEET doesn’t give a fuck about 50, only its progress toward 100.
B. Twitter, have y’all just never HEARD “Livin’ on a Prayer?”
C. This…isn’t even grammar.
Ahem… *you’re*
(Aaand this is why no one will spank me.)
…Nope.
Sorry. (🎶Not sorry…🎵)
First OkCupid message:
“Hey dear how are you I really like your picture so beautiful let me know if you want to talk btw I like your eyes so gorgeous have I great week”
You guys. Send help.
Seen in an OkCupid profile: “I am definitely a stereotypical academic in the sense that I love wearing corduroy blazers and holing up in ivory towers.”
*blink* OMG. Take me, sir. Take me hard.
The only things we have in common are burritos, mushroom hatred, High Fidelity, and grammar, but let’s be honest, I’ve based relationships on less. I dated a guy for 8 months because we could both quote George Carlin.
Plus, another of his favorite movies is Josie and the Pussycats, so he clearly also enjoys dumb, fluffy things.
Hello, Professor. I will be your dumb, fluffy thing.
Guys. Guys. Help. I’m having a seizure. Send pie. (Pie helps seizures, right? That’s medicine?)
For context, my OkCupid profile does reference axe murderers and a dress I should’ve bought. What? What do YOU say to prospective suitors?
First message:
“Hi Smug! I’m Bill. Just wanted to Drop a little Hello read your Profile you sound like a Sweetheart. I wanted to tell you I’m Not a Axe Murderer lol. Love your Music taste Especially the Country thing gotta Love It!!!! Your Photos, Yes you should have bought the Dress you look Really Good in it! Go back and Buy it you look Confident and Proud. Hope your having a Good day if you’d like to say hello Please feel free I’d love to Chat. Enjoy the Rest of your Day!!!! Thanks for your time!!!!!!
Bill”
What in the name of the actual fuck?
This is what I get for liking country music, isn’t it?
As I mentioned, Elbows Guy emailed me back after I’d told him his comment bugged me.
Here’s what I’d said, between other things we’d been discussing, one of which was a second date:
“You tell me if you end up free Tuesday, and I’ll tell you if my ashen elbows and I can join you. Sound good? (Can you tell I took that far too seriously and now wonder if you’re a. Mean, or b. Will think/say things about the rest of my body if ever you see it?) :)”
His response, also among other topics:
“You definitely are reading too much into the elbows thing. It was just a simple observation since your skin is really soft and your elbows were a little rougher (I suspect from resting them on your desk while in hardcore writing mode). It’s the little details like that which I find fascinating in people, especially women, since they usually have a story to tell.
“Your (a) vs (b) question is actually the same question – ‘is this guy a judgey asshat who’s going to make fun of me and my quirks in order to make up for his own insecurities and fragile ego?’ And the answer to that is no. I have a very thick skin and will occasionally say something without thinking how someone not similarly thick-skinned will take it, but I’m not a judgey asshat. I have a sneaking suspicion that was not the case with one or more of the guys you have recently dated.”
Ahem…
1. I pay a nice lady to be my therapist. I don’t need you and your degree from the Lifetime Movie School of Emotional Trauma.
2. I HAVE projected from previous men I’ve known, but I’m usually self-aware enough to recognize it. (Like when you called me “Miss” the other day and my brain spasmed because that’s what That Guy called all the faceless, interchangeable women in his harem — THAT was projecting. I knew it, and I shut it down.)
3. I don’t lean on my desk while I’m writing. My elbows are just shitty. (And way to double down on telling me so.)
4. “I’m not a judgey asshat, but I’m gonna point out your faulty sentence construction.” (I know he’s right. Shut up.)
Sometimes my brain goes all River-Tam-batshit-banana-pants-at-the-end-of-Serenity — swinging weapons around in a circle to fight off whoever comes near her. Whenever I’ve stuck that feeling out because, “I might be overreacting,” I really can’t remember a time my brain was wrong.
Today’s OkStupid intro message: “You got pretty eyes n nice smile go with it :)”
1. Pfft, I knew that. I have my bad body image days, but I actually like my eyes and smile. If I hate my face, it’s usually my nose or my skin.
2. Go with…what, exactly? Having those features? Yeah, I pretty much have to — they’re on my face. Unless I get color contacts and cosmetic dentistry, these are the eyes and smile I’m gonna roll with.
3. Do you mean I should go with YOU? Where? Back to third grade to learn grammar? No, thanks, Billy Madison. (Alternate joke: “Where, the 7-Eleven on Broadway? Do you even know my name, screwboy?”)
Taken from the car during my travels today.
I realize this baby is trying to make me think about my stance on abortion, but its grammar isn’t really helping its cause.
So, have we just abandoned punctuation entirely?
I get a lot of intro messages on OKCupid that say things like, “Hey there how are you I’m Ben”
That’s it. No punctuation.
I guess at least he capitalized his own name?
I have not yet seen anyone I want to fuck badly enough to make this OK.
Smug Singleton 