Pic of the Week: Inspirational Messages

First, a little introduction to OKC’s sad cousin, POF. As far as I can tell from my experience on the site, POF is good for three things: harboring fetishists, providing generic and useless advice about healthy relationships, and eschewing basic principles of sentence construction. You post a few pictures, provide some demographic info, answer a few yes or no questions (do you do drugs? do you have children? etc.), and fill in as much or as little personal info as you’d like in an “about me” section. If I had to make a rough estimate of how many of those “about me” sections are just one giant stream-of-consciousness run-on sentence, I would say 93%. At the risk of sounding like my (former English teacher) mother (love you Mom!), what is happening to this world? Real life examples of people who have contacted me: 

stream-of-consciousness run on sentence

stream-of-consciousness run on sentence 2

stream-of-consciousness run on sentence 3

Maybe I’m being picky, but I’d like to date someone who understands, at the very least, where to place commas and periods. Bonus points for the use of the oxford comma. Want to really make me weak in the knees? Use apostrophes properly (or just at all, we can start there). The trifecta? Don’t senselessly abbreviate words, especially “and” down to just “n”. Three letter words do not need to be shortened. If POF is any indication, this is a sharply-declining population.*

POF is proving to be pretty useless, to be honest. But it did provide today’s Pic of the Week, so there’s at least a little value there… This 31 year old gentleman on POF had six pictures on his profile. NONE of which were of him. ALL of which featured delightfully healthy thoughts/quotes about relationships. Behold:

crazy POF profile guy - profile pic 1

Let’s look at these individually, shall we? First up:



These “girls never go for good guys” rants are pretty standard actually. Guys just usually put them in their own words, instead of google imaging “the plight of the self-proclaimed nice guy” and posting the results as profile pictures. So kudos to him for creativity?

crazy POF profile guy - profile pic 3

It’s true, when I picture my ideal relationship I’m always peacefully napping on the back of a shiny-skinned, muscle-clad man whose sole purpose in life is to stare at the ground all day whilst carrying me and providing for me. Who wants to be in a relationship where you both consider each other as an equal? It’s way better to be perceived as a weak female who is dependent on the men in her life.

crazy POF profile guy - profile pic 4

If I’m too busy to call you or check on you, chances are pretty good I don’t love you. So you probably shouldn’t love me, stop being so understanding. You say “I’ll understand.” What you really mean is “I’m a spineless doormat.” (Tardiness isn’t a very good indication of my affections though, I’m late to things on a daily basis. So I will actually need someone to be understanding on that topic).

crazy POF profile guy - profile pic 5

In a certain way, I can actually relate to this one. I’m a total catch, yes, but I’m also a complete lunatic (which is part of my charm). So every potential relationship for me involves a delicate balancing act between a) exposing some of the crazy in an endearing, adorable way, and b) hiding the majority of the crazy until he’s already fallen for me. Obviously this balancing act isn’t perfected yet, as I’m still single. It’s hard to be me.

how to save your heart

He doesn’t seem like the kind who just goes with the flow and stays happy. He seems PRETTY paranoid, unhappy, and affected. Just the type of traits that I’m looking for in a guy.

This guy has either never dated at all, or only dated crazy bitches. My baggage is the size of a little wristlet compared to what this guy is carrying around.


*I had planned to provide just a brief description of POF as a lead-in to this post. I didn’t even realize what a tangent/rant I had gone off on until I previewed the finished draft. Apparently, I have strong feelings about good grammar. Sorry for taking you along on that ride. Except I’m not sorry, because the only thing that makes the dating population less soul-crushing is this blog.

Pre-Date Rituals: Part II

Note: I put the finishing touches on this post on Sunday, because I knew I would be spending all of Marathon Monday day drinking along the marathon route (just past mile 24), and most of Tuesday recovering. After the terrible events that happened here on Monday, I thought about taking out my reference to how a lot of Bostonians celebrate what is typically the best day of the year in Boston. But I ultimately decided to leave it as written. Because it should have been like any other Marathon Monday – tens of thousands of runners celebrating an impressive personal accomplishment, while the rest of us lazy bums reveled in the successes of total strangers and our good fortune in having a paid day off while the rest of the nation is at work/school. It’s a delightful local holiday, officially called Patriots’ Day. An institution in Boston. A day full of cheering on the runners and parties and barbeques and happiness and unity. It should not have turned into something dark, confusing, and incredibly sad. Still, in the midst of all that tragedy, there was so much good. So many helping hands. So it’s a very small stand that I’m taking, but I’m leaving it in for the way it was supposed to be.


Last week S gave us all a glimpse of her pre-date rituals (inspired by Brunch for Every Meal). Over the long weekend here in MA, I took a break from my busy schedule of Veronica Mars viewing (specifically, this scene on repeat – Logan is so tortured and hot, it gets me every time) and Marathon Mondaying (my 10th Marathon Monday – god it’s the best day!!), to shed some light on how I get ready for a date. Spoiler alert: my version involves less preparation, and yet, more tardiness.

7:50 am: Wake up 20 minutes earlier than usual with the intention of using that time to pick out a cute outfit and consider wearing makeup. Immediately decide against wearing makeup because I’d have to do it myself and that has only ever ended with me looking like a drag queen. (If you see me in real life with makeup on there is a 100% chance that 1] I’m in the company of S (and mutual friend, other S) and they sat me down and prettied me up; or 2] I’m a bridesmaid in a wedding and a professional make-up artist was involved). Actually use those extra 20 minutes to leisurely eat a bowl of Special K with red berries and make disapproving faces at Matt Lauer and/or Willie Geist (Matt Lauer for being Matt Lauer and Willie Geist for snubbing me that one time I was a “guest” on the Today Show**). This is different from my normal routine in that I usually wake up with exactly enough time to shower and get dressed, so I don’t have time to eat anything in my apartment or turn the tv on. Instead, I eat an apple or banana in the car while making disapproving faces at everyone else on the road and listening to Mattie in the Morning because everyone on that show is mean to each other and that’s what mornings are for.

8:10 am: Shower and hastily blow-dry my hair in an attempt to make it look as good as it does when my sister or friend J does it. I’m generally 78% successful at achieving this.

8:30 am: Quickly pick out a dress or top/skirt that is both work appropriate and can be transitioned into dinner/drinks with a cute scarf/cardigan/jewelry/shoes, and leave for work.

6:15 pm: Consider leaving work to stop at home and grab something to eat. Disregard that thought because if I go home I will lay down on my couch to “rest up and refresh my energy before the date” and end up taking a 4 hour nap.

6:20 pm: Eat a handful of animal crackers from the bear jar sitting on the bookshelf in my office and make a packet of instant oatmeal from the stockpile that I amassed when everything at the local grocery story was 70% off because the store was going out of business and EVERYTHING MUST GO! (that was back in like, October – I bought an astounding amount of oatmeal).

6:22 pm: Put away whatever (boring) lawyer task I was doing, and browse some of my favorite sites on the internet whilst eating my “dinner” because I have plenty of time before I need to leave.

7:05 pm: Use my typically flawed logic when it comes to timing to calculate that since the bar is (more often than not) in Davis Square which is past my apartment, and it takes me 12-15 minutes to get home and 5 minutes to get from my apartment to basically anywhere, I should start packing up.

7:28 pm: Face the reality for the 4,293,194th time that even in my car, almost nothing is actually 5 minutes from my apartment and I’m probably going to be late.

7:35 pm: Park 2 ½ blocks from the bar/restaurant because I’m cheap and would rather park on a resident only street for free than pay the $0.50 for a metered spot (stupid 8 p.m. meters). Also, the last time I parked in a metered spot it was simultaneously a poorly marked handicapped spot and I got a $100 ticket. SOOO, yeah.

7:40 pm: Waltz in, start a slow-clap for myself for only being 10 minutes late and not the typical 15-20, act like my propensity for arriving late to everything is an endearing quality and not the character flaw that it really is, and hope that this blasé attitude towards tardiness rubs off on my date.


**I use the term “guest” loosely. My mom and I were really just handlers, because the real guests were two of my parents’ dogs (they are legitimate rock stars) and the other families that Stupid Willie Geist actually spoke to instead of stood in front of. Fuck him.

P.S. I know that being late is rude, I do. And it may not seem like it, but I genuinely try to be on time for things because I’m aware of my delinquent ways. I just rarely succeed. Like I said – character flaw.