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Online Dating: Who Gives A Shit?

7 May - the bane of my existence.

The mother of one of my very best friends recently encouraged me to create my profile on both and Plenty of Fish, two very popular online dating sites. I’m not going to lie: I hate them both and I think even having a profile on either is completely disingenuous of me. I hate the idea of forcefully looking for someone with whom to start a relationship. I truly believe that all of the best people will appear randomly, in moments you will never come to expect.

I do suppose that I should date more to get a better idea of what I’d like down the road, though what exactly is an acceptable amount of dating for a woman my age? I feel as though this varies with the person and their life situation. Some women date constantly, while others only have two or three boyfriends in their entire life and then just get married or end up with a long-term partner. This latter situation mirrors some of my idols – both Tina Fey and Mindy Kaling, two leading female writers, have both spoken openly about their lack of romantic experience. Perhaps I will be one of them – somewhat mournful over my lack of romantic entanglement yet ecstatic that I will be bathing in money in the future.

Back to the issue at hand. I receive lots of attention on both sites, though it’s never really from people I would care to speak to, never mind “date”. There are lots of men who post shirtless pictures of themselves (in spite of not looking too amazing), others who send messages that say things like, “What are you up for?”, somehow thinking that I may be some sort of prostitute, others who post photographs taken sometime in the mid-90s when they were still hot, and still others who hide that they are unemployed and undereducated by claiming that their occupation is “being awesome”.

On Plenty of Fish, I receive about ten messages every day. How many of those do I actually answer? I’d say maybe one or two per week. Why is this? I suppose that I am much too picky, or perhaps I have these things people refer to as “standards”. One of my standards is proper grammar and spelling, which is something that the majority of men near my age seem to neglect entirely. My profile states that I was an English major, yet I still receive inquires in the vein of, “wuts good wit u?” I am beginning to think that there is little to no hope for women with class and college degrees.

Online dating is part of the streamlined online culture that envelopes every aspect of one’s life. We browse the internet for men just as we browse for shoes and news stories. The impersonal nature of online dating is absolutely frightening. I highly doubt that I will find the love of my life lurking on

In spite of these recurrent setbacks, a very funny thing happened to me on Plenty of Fish. In spite of my thinking that I needed to look for someone new, someone I would give my heart to (and I already know personally) turned out to be my top compatibility match within a 50 mile radius. Well-played, computer. Well-played. I have not yet decided whether this is a joke or a sign of something greater, but in the meantime, I ask of online dating: who gives a shit?

If You Ever Want to Touch Me, You Must Have These Three Things in Your Wallet

5 Feb

A gold digger's dream: the American Express "Black" Card!

I am a very frightening woman with a sure sense of what she wants and how she’ll go about getting it. One of the things I am very particular about is the sort of man I’ll sleep with. Selectivity in this arena prevents emotional problems, disease, and pesky things known as “babies”.  It also preserves one’s place in the world as a respectable woman who will not simply spread her legs for any man buying her a drink in a bar and up the chances of finding a partner worthy of one’s presence.  I have a very simple checklist for men who are at the least worthy of talking to me, if at all.

These are the three things that must be in your wallet if you wish to say hello:

1. A valid form of picture ID (with the right man’s picture, of course). Many underestimate the power of knowing exactly who it is you are talking to. You will be surprised how many people repeatedly lie about who they are and where they’re from. At the least, this is the sign of an insecure man hoping to up his chances of getting laid by pretending he is a Harvard graduate, professional athlete, or resident of a gated community. In the worst-case scenarios, men without ID could be grifters, or even worse, serial killers. Once a young man approached me in a nightclub and claimed to be Australian. I immediately called him on his bluff (he had no idea who he was talking to) and asked to see his ID. When he opened his wallet, I glimpsed a peek of a Tennessee driver’s license and promptly sent the young man packing. Always check ID, though it does not have to be right away. Ask to see your date’s driver’s license picture if he pulls out his wallet to pay for something (which he should, anyway). This is a normal thing to ask someone.

2. A major credit card. Emphasis on major. I had a boyfriend who did not have a credit card when I met him. Take this as a red flag. If someone doesn’t have a credit card, it means one of two things:

  • They are one of those people who “don’t believe in credit” and hence only use only cash, which is indicative of other problems (drug dealing, if they are always carrying excessive cash) or of a complacent attitude that will never get someone anywhere in life. Credit runs everything in this shitty, capital-dependent world. This person probably also takes night classes at the community college in academically irrelevant topics like sociology or psychology (the latter of which you will need a doctorate to ever do anything with). BEWARE.
  • They have shitty credit or no credit at all, which means they’ll always be a poor.

You also want to be wary of people with Paypal credit cards. This probably means that their job is selling stuff on eBay. Aim higher. Obviously the best option is a normal platinum Visa, preferably one that garners frequent flier miles. This indicates someone who likes to travel.

3. A gym membership card. Let’s be honest. Sex is a shallow, shallow thing, and no one has sex with someone because they have a great personality. People have sex with people they’re attracted to, and it should remain that way. A recent experience lead me to believe that some men like to hide the fact that they do not go to the gym with oversize clothing and strategic styles of leaning. No, I do not want your soft, amoeba-like body draped over mine. Go to the gym and lift some weights. Someone who does not take care of their body from a young age is no one I want to have as a boyfriend. When you’re out meeting people, always emphasize your interest in fitness to weed out the amoebas. A hard, athletic body is a must for me – it may not be for other women, but for me it’s required.

….and yes, I am a bit of a ball-buster. Thanks for reading!

Redundancy in Hollywood: No Strings Attached and Friends with Benefits

21 Jan

Following the critical success of Black Swan, both Natalie Portman and Mila Kunis chose to make what appears to be the same movie to kick of 2011. Despite the high chances that Portman will win the Best Actress Oscar, her next movie is the fluff piece, No Strings Attached, opposite Ashton Kutcher. The film follows a simple premise: two close friends, a guy and a girl, try to use each other only for sex. Of course it’s a terrible idea and when people attempt a friends with benefits situation, and will always backfire. At least one person (though it usually will turn out to be both) will begin to have these strange things called “feelings” for the other person. A fuck buddy situation is a recipe for disaster.

The first film, No Strings Attached, which I already saw on Friday, follows the recurring meetings of Emma (Natalie Portman), a freshly-out-of med school hospital resident, and Adam (Ashton Kutcher), an aspiring television writer struggling through a “career” as a production assistant on a crappy tv show for teens and living in the shadow of his famous father (Kevin Kline).  I think the movie offered some great laughs and a barrage of lines that will become classics (“Blow is blind”, “It’s like a crime scene in my pants.”) The movie also has a cast of great feminist actresses: Mindy Kaling, Greta Gerwig, Olivia Thirlby, Lake Bell. Overall, cute movie, a little overly sentimental at the end. Here is the trailer:

The second movie documenting an awkward friends with benefits situation is the blatantly-titled Friends with Benefits, starring the less-talented Mila Kunis and the seemingly endlessly talented Justin Timberlake. The only thing I can say for this movie so far is that it portrays oral sex performed on a woman – a much welcome change in Hollywood’s typical fare that indicates men are fearful of down there.  One rule of thumb for whether you should keep a man is if he goes down on women – real men always do, and enjoy it. Losers are scared by cunnilingus. Anyway, JT is looking fiiiiiiiiiinnne in this movie. The trailer for Friends with Benefits:

One Year Later: Hmmm, I Dated That?

5 Dec

A year ago today, my heart shattered into a million bajillion pieces, the result of an ill-planned and unexpected breakup, courtesy of my ex-boyfriend Brandon.* December 5th, 2009: quite possibly the worst day I ever lived thus far, though I now realize how dramatic that may sound.

The first thing he did was send me an indirect message that we were over. I got an email from AT&T stating that Brandon wanted me off of his account. My stomach sank. I knew what was happening. I cried in front of my coworkers at 30 Rock and then trudged to the subway to make my way back to the Village.  I was walking to a poetry reading by John Ashbery when I called him.

“Brandon, what’s going on?”

“Heather, I don’t think this is working out.”

I start gasping for air.

There was nothing I could say to stop his freight train barrage of insults. He told me that he felt like my father (WTF?) and that he didn’t “have to do shit” about helping me move. To him, someone to whom I dedicated so much of my time, effort, and love, I was now nothing. I was a peon worth little more than an indirect corporate email and a phone call I had to make on my own. And he, though I would only realize this months later, was a worthless piece of shit and a huge pussy who deleted me as a friend on Facebook seconds after getting off the phone with me.

This little stunt of Brandon’s (which came very suddenly out of the blue for me) almost ruined my last two weeks at NYU. Not only did I have to finish seven papers in that time frame in order to earn my degrees, but I also had to figure out where the fuck I was going to be living in that time. The breakup further complicated these matters by giving me an incurable case of tears, most of which would commence randomly as I wandered the streets of NYC. Brandon planned on coming to New York to help me move, but now that he revealed his true colors (dark colors indeed), he completely rescinded this offer to help me and left me high and dry. Luckily for myself (and for Brandon’s testicles), I am the sort of person who always gets shit done. I am go-getter, if you will – a certified hustler. In spite of someone’s attempt at making me feel worthless, I pulled through and finished college on a high note.

After I managed to drag myself back out west, a whole year passed. I spent the first half of it curled in the fetal position, screaming aloud every time a thought about the loser who broke my heart came to mind. 2010 was a year marked by loss, uncertainty, and off-and-on unemployment. Oh, and lots of booze.

You’re likely wondering how any vitriol for my ex still exists. I have some good reasons for that. First, and most importantly, my ex turned out to be a liar. I know for a FACT that he contacted another girl (for dating/fucking purposes) not even an hour after breaking up with me. I wish I saved the evidence, but because I am a nice person, I chose not to. Instead, I confronted the offender in person, who swiftly denied that he had broken up with me to date another girl. It is his audacity to LIE TO MY FACE that annoys me the most. This is a person I gave everything to, including my goddamn virginity, and he fucking lies to me. Second, who the fuck breaks up with someone with an AT&T email but a certified pussy? Third, anyone who breaks serious plans and promises (like helping someone move 2,000 miles across the country) is worthless.

I just stumbled upon some recent pictures of the offender. At first I was afraid to look, thinking the photos might trigger yet another cry-fest. What did I think when my jaded, lonely eyes saw his stupid, shit-eating grin? “Hmmm…I dated that?” He just looked awful to me, completely void of sex appeal and somehow looking much too tan.

I noticed that these pictures were also evidence that the offender took his girlfriend (the same girl he contacted minutes after breaking it off with me) to visit his parents in another state. What’s offensive about that? How about the fact that’s he’s been with her a lesser length of time than he had been with me at the point and time he took me to visit his parents? I do feel a bit of empathy for this girl, who does not yet know that she will one day have her heart ripped out of her chest by an evil bloodsucker. (Plus, she’s either insane or heard nothing but lies from the start – no sane person would get involved with someone just getting out of a serious 2.5 year relationship, hence I will give her the benefit of the doubt.) It appears to me that to Brandon, people (especially women), are completely interchangeable, and that is what burns the most. It’s too much to realize how little you meant to someone else when they were once everything to you.

Now that the obligatory year of mourning passed and I now have a new prospect on the horizon (a handsome, hot, funny, professional athlete prospect, to be exact), what more can be said about the dipshit that broke my heart? Nothing at all. He’s just not worth this pain anymore.

* I have decided that enough time has passed that the use of pseudonyms is now moot.

I Never Want to Hear “He’s Just Not That Into You” Ever Again

12 Sep

"Haha! I guess we don't really like each other after all!"

The most toxic phrase infiltrating the pop culture lexicon is “He’s just not that into you.” Coined by authors Greg Behrendt (a comedian who does not hold any sort of psychology degree) and 49-year-old never-married and eternally single writer Liz Tuccillo (not exactly an expert on relationships), the phrase is the title of their 2008 book He’s Just Not That Into You, also a terrible and poorly-written “romantic comedy” starring practically every star of the moment you could think of.

The book claims to offer advice to women on the dating world. Greg, who seems to think that every man is a type A personality who will jump at the chance to ask out any woman in a hundred-foot radius, is sadly mistaken. Not all men are cut from the same cloth, and it takes all kinds of people to make the world go round. I know from personal experience that not all men are like this. Most men, in fact, are shy, confused, and generally terrified of asking a woman out, never mind asking out a woman they really like.

The book and film offer these gems of advice for women: be completely passive when it comes to dating; your only job is to accept or deny dates as the offers come flooding in; NEVER EVER call or pursue a man in any way, shape, or form. In other words, become a subservient doormat with no wishes or desires of your own to fulfill. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with a woman asking a man out. I’ve asked out a few guys in my short lifetime, and guess what? I did not spontaneously combust into flames while doing so.

My main problem with the He’s Just Not That Into You philosophy is its assumption that all women want to be wooed and yet are not allowed to do any of the wooing. Why is it that HE is just not that into me? What if SHE is just not that into him? Can’t this idiotic philosophy be applied to both sexes? And what is wrong with giving a guy a call? I admit that I’ve questioned my attempts at wooing men, but why is that? We are taught that women are automatically the weaker sex; we are small forest creatures, if you will, waiting to be hunted down by the proverbial kings of the jungle. God forbid we ever pursue a man we actually like – we should just take the ones that force themselves into our lives.

I also have a major problem with thinking that everything must happen within a certain time frame for a relationship to develop. The idea that a guy must call you within three days to express his continued interest does not account for confusion, shyness, being busy with actual life commitments, and/or the possibility that you’re not the only thing he has to worry about. I’ve noticed that some of the strongest relationships start out as friendships. In these cases, both parties are interested in getting to know each other before jumping into anything serious. I think if you do not get to know someone at first, you could very likely end up with the very sort of people you need to avoid – stalkers, assholes, and perverts, who always seem overeager to make something happen.

The advice in He’s Just Not That Into You can be summed up as such: if you pretend to be a weak woman in need of a strong man, a strong man will find you and sweep you off your feet. Never mind if he’s not really someone you are attracted to or compatible with; if he’s calling you then he’s all you deserve. Also remember to play plenty of mind games, because men love a woman who comes off as an enigma – he won’t want to get to know you as a person anyway, so do your best to confuse the hell out of him.

My current situation in the “romantic realm,” if you will, involves a lot of confusion on my part. I am definitely attracted to and interested in one guy in particular; however, my current limbo-like state in life and romantic history makes me unsure of whether I want an actual relationship or some sort of fun fling. Hence, I am confused. I would not be surprised, considering what he’s told me about his romantic history, if he were confused as well. However, if he really is “just not that into me,” I suppose I will have to curl into a little ball with a pint of Ben and Jerry’s and cry until some asshole comes along to sweep me off my feet. But no thank you. I will continue to wait this one out and see what happens – I’m certainly in no hurry.

There is one more thing I would like to add: if you happen to encounter a guy who does everything without hesitancy and says all of the right things at the right time (much like the “ideal” men Greg describes in the book), chances are he’s a player who likes to fuck ’em and leave ’em. The type of man that Greg glorifies in his “book” is exactly the sort women need to avoid.

I suppose my point is that we are not all simple creatures who know what we want and/or need at any given moment. Dating is much more complicated than saying “he’s just not that into you.”

Fake Accents and the Women Who (Don’t) Love Them

2 Aug

Can you tell me what country's flag this is? Oh wait. No, you can't.

This weekend I went to my favorite bar only to be hit on by an idiot who decided to pretend to be Scottish. I was trying to tell one of my male friends how common it is for men to try to pretend to be something they are not in order to impress a girl. Faking an accent, certain personality traits, and perhaps even lying about where one has spent time is all very common when young men try to pick up on girls. The real issue with men faking exotic foreign accents is not whether they can pull it off, but rather more about how women actually fall for such nonsense.

The stereotype that no woman can resist a foreign accent truly bothers me. If this were true, I’m sure a lot of women would move to Europe or Australia (the Australian accent is the most irresistible accent, as both Russell Crowe and The Outback Steakhouse have taught us) for the express purpose of finding a man with an accent. When women fall for such superficial bullshit, they automatically set themselves up for disappointment. Just because a guy has a British accent does not mean he could be any less of a jerk than an American guy. Accents do not serve as a cover for being a true asshole.

In my particular case, a young man approached me, telling me that he thought I was beautiful. I thought he sounded funny from the beginning – he immediately followed his compliment with a declaration that he was from Scotland. Um, okay. No, you’re not. There were several reasons for me to doubt what he was saying – first, he was wearing a Von Dutch hat. The Von Dutch hat is not only the mark of a douchebag, but it also signifies someone who knows very little about fashion, which many Europeans actually care about. He also kept going on and on about some military regiment he was in and that he had come here to train American soldiers to rescue others from bad weather situations in the mountains. What mountains in Scotland could he have possibly trained on for such nonsense? I ended up Googling “mountains in Scotland” and found out that the highest peaks of the Highlands are no more than 4,000 feet. How could that possibly compare to a Colorado fourteener? Another lie. Then I tried to play detective.

“So what’s the capital of Scotland?”

Blank stare from Mr. Von Dutch.

I went to college, I know the capital of Scotland is Edinburgh. That should be easy enough for someone who claims to be Scottish, but, no answer.

Then he made a fatal mistake. I don’t remember what I asked him, but his answer was “Aye.” What Scottish dialect uses “aye” as a substitute for yes? The answer is none of them, unless all Scottish people are pirates.

I finally asked this moron if he had either  a passport or visa to show me. He said he had neither of those with him. I made my point a little more clear: “This is a bar. They had to have checked your ID at the door. Can I see the ID that you showed them?”

The young, stupid boy pulled his wallet from his back pocket and opened it, revealing a standard US military ID. He tries to pull it out of his wallet ever-so-slowly. And what could be underneath this military ID but a motherfucking TENNESSEE driver’s license!?! I caught him lying and told him,”Look I know you’re faking an accent and I think it’s really lame.” A look of embarrassment and shame washed over his face and he trudged away.

I couldn’t help but point out the stupidity of this kid. He chose the wrong woman to try his horrible Scottish accent on. I once met James McAvoy at the American Eagle Outfitters I worked at in New York, for godsakes. I know a Scot when I see one. (But mostly when I hear one.) The sad part is that there was most likely a woman on whom his pathetic Scottish-Southern accent worked. And he probably got laid. That was a sad night for America.

Waiting for a Man to Call You is Stupid: Here’s Why

19 Jul

You have a phone. Use it to get what you want.

Many women I know follow the “he’s just not that into you” school of dating. I cannot, will not, ever, ever, ever get on that train. I find it completely irrational that a man is expected to do all the legwork in dating. Some friends of mine (actually many friends of mine) seem to think that a man must make everything happen in a courtship situation. Not so, ladies. Not so.

Why is it that the male should decide whether HE’S into YOU? What about deciding whether YOU are into HIM? The double standard in heterosexual dating is entirely damaging to women. Women have been conditioned to think that a man must do all the pursuing, and if (god forbid) the woman does any of the hunting, she’s obviously DESPERATE. This way of thinking allows for women to become victims in a cat and mouse game that they might not even want to be a part of. I cannot tell you how many times I’ve been pursued by men whom I had absolutely no interest in! And they never give up easily! I’m sorry, but I’ve already decided whether I am sexually attracted to you within the first ten seconds of meeting you. Sending me random texts for the next two weeks saying nothing more than “Hey” will do nothing for you.

I’m not saying that women should go out and proposition all the men they find attractive. All I’m saying that women should do the shopping, too. What about finding out more about someone as a person before trying to date them? This generation is geared toward instant gratification – we have Facebook, Twitter, texting, and pretty much every other possible form of communication possible. If a guy gives you his number, he’s probably interested and may want you to contact him if he’s at all shy. How can it work to a woman’s advantage if she’s being told to not use any form of contact with a guy she might be interested in? Men have all the same insecurities (maybe more) as women – they are just as terrified of sexual rejection as we are.

What I’ve noticed about a lot of the women who follow books like The Rules (a fair review of this book will be upcoming on Fixed Air), is that they often go through high numbers of men in very short relationships. And many of them never seem to be single long enough to understand that a woman does not need a man to complete her existence. Quickly jumping from relationship to relationship is a completely detrimental practice that corrodes both mind and soul. You do not have to be “in a relationship” at all times to feel good about yourself as a woman. Sometimes, it’s knowing who you are, in terms of your values, expectations, and dreams that could give you worlds more confidence than a  boyfriend. These women tend to “play games” with men, and think that ignoring a guy’s phone calls will somehow make her more desirable. Guess what? Men have insecurities that also cause them to question whether a woman likes him.

I have recently asked several male acquaintances whether they think it’s okay for a woman to contact them. They all said the same thing – that it’s a relief when a woman they like contacts them. They say it takes the guessing out of the equation and lets them know that the woman they had eyed isn’t completely terrified of him. I think it seems completely backward and old-fashioned to have to wait for a man to do everything. The games that people play are completely annoying, and I feel that if people stopped playing and perhaps lowered their guard for a moment, they may be surprised when they connect with someone who isn’t completely shallow.

There is nothing wrong with asking a man out. Nothing at all. I’ve done it and it works. I asked out my ex. We are exes now, yes, but we were together for a long time. You don’t necessarily have to call a guy, either. Maybe send him a text inviting him to a casual get-together with friends. What’s most important is to get to know the guy first. That seems to be the top misstep people make when getting into dating relationships – you have no idea who the person is or what they’re about.

Most men probably pray to the gods each night that a woman will ask them out instead of having to go through a bunch of awkward lines, sweating off his Old Spice all the while. Asking a guy out works most of the time. (Probably 9 times out of 10). I challenge you to try it sometime. Why should women have to waste time going on dates with men they do not find attractive or interesting? Why should women always wait around to be hunted by emotionally out-of-touch alpha males? Oh yeah, because society told us to.

On Things Unrequited (Especially Love)

27 Jun

I'm thinking about getting this as a tattoo.

Something prompted me to write this entry tonight – something I cannot quite grasp while I am still in the throes of a reactive anger that left me wanting to dance it out (kind of like “hug it out,” but for people who like to dance) at my favorite club.

Anyway, let me start out by saying something I’ve thought about a lot lately – I loathe men. All of them, really. Not one seems to have any qualities I would desire in a romantic partner, and the one that did changed his mind about me a long time ago. In the last seven months, I’ve had time to think, to vent, to cry, and to generally feel like crap, and I wish I could say it were over, but it’s not. I see no light at the end of the proverbial tunnel – I see no chance at finding someone I could say “I love you” to and mean it again. I’m being held in a state of mourning by some force that wants to teach me a lesson. A cruel, endless lesson that will likely only be useful after I’ve left my youth behind.

What has spurred on my loathing of the heterosexual man? It appears to me as though many men lack any sense of follow-through and/or ability to be honest when it is most vital.  A lack of communication skills is perhaps the most salient problem among the young men I have come into contact with. The lack of willingness to take responsibility for one’s actions (and speak for those actions) is perhaps the greatest problem that plagues our society. American society is producing individuals who want instant gratification – the concept of hard and honest work is nearly lost on my generation. I am not referring to honest work simply in the sense of work work, but in the sense of working toward honest, beautiful relationships with your fellow man. Last weekend I met someone who had sparked within me a feeling of joy I hadn’t felt in a long time. He was smart, funny, kind of a nerd (just like myself), and liked Leonardo DiCaprio movies. We hung out on both Saturday and Sunday, but by Monday, he had decided he didn’t like me anymore. He didn’t actually say this – someone else decided to play messenger, though I believe I already knew this when he didn’t text me the next day. And of course, I still have a lingering interest in this person – a crush that I hope will go away as soon as possible. By the time I started typing this sentence, a gag reflex that surfaces when I think of this person has already developed, thank goodness.

I want to simply like someone so badly. I want to remember what a first kiss is like, what the nervousness you feel when you first get close to someone is like once more. But I can’t now. I have to wait. I am still very much in love with another – someone who has all but forgotten everything about me, including the fact that he has had my entire heart since the day we met three summers ago.

Heartbreak is truly the most painful emotional trial I have ever been through. It hurts even more when you realize that the one you love has likely forgotten all about you and the love you shared. He’s probably whispering the same sweet nothings I once heard into the ear of someone else. Unfortunately, we should all get the chance to feel this way. Without knowing pain, there is no such thing as knowing love.

So, in the meantime, I am trapped in the interim between love and loathing and being subjected to shallow encounters with shallow people that truly lead nowhere. I am in a holding pattern; an endless cycle of disappointment that always brings me back to thinking of someone who never thinks of me. End rant.

Tell the Truth, Even if it Makes You Look Stupid

31 Mar

One of my biggest pet peeves is dishonesty. No one wants to be friends with, date, or generally know a liar. Liars suck. Liars especially suck when you are 1000% sure that they are lying. When you have evidence of their dishonesty, the work of a liar becomes an example of the worst of humanity’s failings.

Liars: they suck.

Scenario #1:

You’ve been dating someone for about 2-and-a-half years. Yes, that’s a long time. It’s a long distance relationship, but one party is planning to move back to the location of the other party at the conclusion of college. The one that isn’t finishing college has promised to help you move 2,000 miles across the country. The only issue that arises is that this person bullies you on the phone one night until you can’t handle it anymore, and you hang up on them after yelling, “F*** You”. You figure that you’ll let your little outburst blow over and then call to apologize. However, the very next day you get a corporate email from AT&T stating that the other person wants you off of their account. Yes, this is how they’ve chosen to break up with you. They also rescind their promise to help you move. Truly scummy. A decent person would still help you if they have respect for you as a person. This person isn’t decent, and it’s a shock, since you’ve basically wasted 2.5 years of your precious earth time with them. You also find out that they’ve been eyeing another person for a while now. They contact/booty call this other person THE SAME DAY they break up with you. And then they lie about it every time you confront them about it.


Look, if you want to date someone else, man up and tell me about it. It will hurt a lot less in the long run. Plus, you’ll look like less of an idiot. As one friend put it:

Even if nothing happened between them until after you two broke up, then he should have had the balls to tell you that one of the reasons he broke up with you was because he was interested in someone else.

Well said, friend. Well said.

Scenario #2:

You’ve been seeing a guy for a few weeks. However, he’s going away for a long time and you’re not sure whether you can handle keeping in touch for so long. (The long distance thing is quite tedious, and after Scenario #1, you probably will never do it again.) You would like to keep in touch on Skype and possibly send him home-baked cookies. He leaves and you give him a note with your email address. You find out ten days later that this person is engaged to be married to a completely different person in a completely different state. You’re clearly not the one who’s being played, but you are being used, even if it is in a minimal way. And your feelings have been hurt, because for whatever reason, you started having feelings for someone who turned out to be a liar. It happens to the best of us.


Um, I don’t know. Maybe tell people that you’re ENGAGED. That shouldn’t be a big secret. And if it is, you shouldn’t be getting married to begin with. You’d make a terrible spouse anyway. You’re a liar, a cheater, and a little bit fat (in this specific case, the liar was slightly rotund). You fail. Thanks for playing.

There you have it. Two examples of why lying is such poor form. How do you avoid liars? You’d probably have to become a hermit. Liars are everywhere. You just have to learn how to spot them sooner.

It Messed Me Up…Need A Second to Breathe.

23 Mar

Sing it, Lambert.