Message Monday: “very rude”

How are we doing out there, readers? Does everyone have a bleary-eyed, DST fueled case of the Mondays? Me too, friends. Me too. Well let’s take those feelings out on a total stranger, shall we?

As you loyal readers know, I’m seeing someone, but I’ve kept my Okc profile active for blogging purposes. I feel slightly sketchy about this, but D and I talked about it and he understands that my interests are purely professional/research related. As a certain hyperbolic but wise co-blogger of mine put it:


I have noticed recently that there’s a ‘seeing someone’ option that you can choose on your profile. The other day I clicked it on a whim, but I have to be honest, I don’t get it. What kind of weirdo would announce that they’re seeing someone on their profile, and then just stay on the site? (besides dating bloggers, of course.) I know, I know. The answer, obviously, is cheaters. Except if you’re in the market to step out on your S.O., why not just pull a J and lie about being single? Don’t misunderstand me; I’m not encouraging people to lie. Hell no. I just don’t understand the logic behind being perfectly willing to lie to your significant other but not to complete strangers.

Maybe I’m just super old fashioned/naive/jaded/need to read more Dan Savage. Maybe there’s a sea of people in open relationships out there, happily looking for some consensual, mutually agreed upon fun on the side via Okcupid. In which case, mazel tov! Truth be told, I have come across people in arrangements like that, but they’re always super up front about their unique situations on their profiles, I’m sure to avoid being thrown shade by people like me. So when that isn’t the case, and they don’t say a word about their ‘seeing someone’ or even ‘married’ status, I can only assume I’m dealing with a sketchball. Also, as we’ve experienced time and time again, the internet is full of liars. So there’s that.

I know, I know, I was technically lying for that month or so when I was no longer single and still on Okc as ‘single’. And my profile doesn’t explain my ‘seeing someone’ status either. I hear you. Good point. Huge hypocrite. That’s me.

pot kettle


Sorry, that was a serious tangent I just took you all on. What can I say? I’m easily distracted. In writing; in life.



Let’s move on, shall we? When I mentioned to D that I’d picked the ‘seeing someone’ option on my profile, he was confused.

D: But wait… won’t that prevent you from getting more crazy messages from dudes? Won’t they stop?

Me: I dunno. Maybe. Only one way to find out.

FYI, they did not stop. My message volume actually increased. I mean, the quality of the messages didn’t increase; if anything, that decreased, which I wasn’t even aware was possible given some of my past encounters.

Obviously, it’s Message Monday, so I have an example for you. I received a pretty standard one the other night, right as I was getting home from work. I clicked it open briefly on my phone to read:


I mean, certainly not the best message ever, but CERTAINLY not the worst. Semi complete sentences. Mostly correct spelling and grammar. Polite. Because I was heading out, I closed the Okc app for the time being, intending to reply later. I really do try to respond to anyone who writes me more than two words and appears to be reasonably sane, and tell them thanks but I’m just not interested. I think it’s only fair/polite, especially given the fact that I’ve been a non single person posing as single for the past few months.

Also, I didn’t forget to censor his profile pic; there was no need. More on that later.

Later that night, I noticed that I had a second message from the same dude:


What in the fuckity fuck? First of all, crazypants, less than two hours had gone by when you sent that. Some people have lives they’re trying to live. To quote a comedy great:

simma down now


Second, I know all too well the experience of sending a message to someone you’re into and getting this response:



But that doesn’t mean I write a hostile follow up message to a total stranger an hour later calling them out like a mentally unstable lunatic. That’s not how this online dating thing works, because if it was, I’d have to quit my job to make time for all of the mentally unstable replies I’d be writing to people who were “very rude”.

Third, let’s consider the actual message sender for a moment, shall we? Take a look at his profile picture (his ONLY picture), which as I mentioned I’m able to show you all in its full, uncensored glory:



Real talk: that’s straight up the saddest excuse for a snowman that I’ve ever seen in my life. Here’s a tip: if you want to entice me with a snow creature, might I suggest this guy:


Olaf 4 Life.

And the final thing I noticed about this dude, which brings us back to my rant at the beginning of this post:


Oh, cute! Adorable. Now my blood was officially boiling. I had to respond. And I did:


My original reply was littered with obscenities, but I decided that restraint would be more effective. I sent this knowing it was self indulgent of me and totally unnecessary, but I didn’t GAF. I reaaaaally didn’t.

I blame my blinding rage on behalf of women everywhere for the fact that I didn’t even put two and two together at first. Sadly, it only occurred to me as I was writing this post that this dude totally messaged me because my status is ‘seeing someone’, and he (fairly) assumed I was also looking for some fun on the side. Yup. That’s definitely what happened.



Lol. Oh me. Do I feel bad about sassing him? Of course not! He was still an asshole and he still deserved to be put in his place. I regret nothing. But maybe I’ll just go back to my good old ‘single’ status for the time being, so as not to attract and get into a fight with every cheating douchebag in the tri-state area. Good call, right?



Lady B agrees. It shall be so.

Dating in the New Year-Resolutions that I want to keep

bridget jones

(It physically pains me not to be able to embed the accompanying clip from Bridget Jones here, since it’s so befitting. But APPARENTLY no one reveres this cinematic triumph enough to upload it to Youtube. Click here if you’d like to watch. Aaaand I’m out. Take it away, L!)

It’s that time of year again, folks. Christmas has come and gone, and in the days between now and January 1. most people are concocting elaborate New Year’s resolutions to lose all the pounds they put on through competitive holiday eating and drinking.  Due to my deep and dependent relationship with food, I am not actually sure the traditional “lose 10 lbs” resolution is going to work for me.

tina fey food

However, just because I’m not giving up my night cheese does not mean I don’t have some very rigorous resolutions up my sleeve, a few which are dating-related. And what better people to share them than with my co-bloggers and our wonderful readers? Here goes…

Resolution #1: Date one guy at a time

When I started dating this year, I felt like I was at a Golden Corral. For those of you who aren’t blessed enough to know firsthand, Golden Corral is an incredible, all you can eat buffet where for about $12.99 you can, “HELP YOURSELF TO HAPPINESS.” 

I mean, the slogan for online dating is more like “Help yourself to herpes,” (L, you’re hilarious as always, but THAT SLOGAN IS TERRIFYING) but you get my gist. I basically went to the buffet, grabbed a mish-mash of delicious, though mostly unhealthy, treats, and ate them all at once.  I tried the date the nice guy/ and sleep with the sex idiot combo (more than once). I tried doctors, several Booze Allen consultants (though stopped shy of Edward Snowden, dammit!), former Dominos pizza employees, and music industry moguls sound engineers.  Why is dating multiple guys so appealing?

First, instead of trying to find a guy who has all the qualities you enjoy in another person, you have the much easier task of enjoying different things about different people at once. You can have a great dinner conversation with Bachelor A, and then leave and have great, ahem, non conversation with Bachelor B. Bachelor C takes you to a concert and you talk about music for hours, but he has no idea who Elizabeth Warren is. That’s ok, because you’ll have plenty of time to discuss the next election with Bachelor D a few nights later over a nice dinner.

Second, You don’t get too attached to any one person. After the abrupt demise of my very long term and very serious relationship last fall, I was terrified (and still sort of am) of ever getting close to someone again, and then getting hurt when things ended. What better way to ward off possible attachments than to not commit to one person? Who cares if Bachelor B disappears? You were seeing two other guys, and chances are at least one of them is still around. Score!

However, my whole “I’m so damaged/ I’ll never love again” thing is getting to be like a bad Grey’s Anatomy season series that will never end.



I don’t want to be the main character in Shonda Rhime’s next TV show about some high-powered, damaged woman who keeps smacking love in the face (literally).

In 2014, I want to start to approach dating with the possibility of maybe wanting more than just a fling, and to do this, I need to hunker down and determine what qualities I really want in a boo and what I can’t abide by.  And I think that will be a lot easier and more effective if I evaluate my feelings for one guy at a time. Which leads me to…

Resolution #2: Stop worrying about what he’s thinking, and focus on what I’m thinking

For all the boasting I’ve done on this blog (not to mention IN LIFE) about having the running title of “most insecure” among my friends (vying with C, of course!), crippling self doubt and second guessing are actually habits I want to ditch in 2014. It’s kinda tiring living in a mild state of terror, waiting for the worst to happen:

anxiety girl

So, instead of agonizing constantly about what my dates are thinking about me, why they keep asking me out, if they are only in it so they can rob me/get a job/learn Swedish/make friends with all my friends, I am going to start asking myself more, “why am I in this? what do I want? Do I really like this guy? Why or why not?”

Resolution #3: Get buzzed, not drunk

As you know, the ladies of StuCu love themselves some liquor, and I’m proud/sad to say I probably hold the title for biggest heavyweight in this category. While there are a couple great semi-valid reasons to get drunk on dates, there are also a couple of not-so-great consequences to this practice:

  1. Sleeping with guys you don’t even like.
  2. Not totally remembering what you said the next day. I.e., “Did I really tell that guy that I wanted to send anyone caught listening a to Dave Matthew Band songs to jail and Chinese water torture them? Right after he said his favorite song was Ants go Marching? EEEKKK” (Though honestly, if this was his favorite song, he deserved the insult. ) (Based on my highly scientific points system, this statement is completely true.)
  3. The weekday hangovers. Mama’s not 22 anymore.
  4. Did I mention the sleeping with guys you don’t even like thing? Cause it kinda sucks.

Happy New Year, y’all. Here’s hoping that next year, I go from this kinda single lady–

dancing with the computer

to this kind of single lady–

single ladies beyonce

*Obviously I mean Beyonce, not Kelly or Michelle. (Personally, I’d take Kelly, too. Sorry, Michelle).

See you lovely readers in 2014!

First Date: Drunk Girl

S here, coming at you with my last post as a 28 year old. That’s right, peeps. As of midnight tonight, the sun will officially begin to set on my 20s and I’ll be staring 30 in its mean, spinstery face. Woohoo! Also, a friendly reminder: if you haven’t already, please vote for your favorite worst date ever story here. Voting ends Friday!

Speaking of being a mature adult… do any of you loyal readers recall this lovely tale of first date tipsiness from L? Well last week, as I mentioned, I walked (or should I say stumbled) a mile in her shoes on a first date of my own. Allow me to explain, and by explain I mean post a screen shot of the text I sent D when I got home:

D prohib

It’s a testament to our friendship and to the bond we share that D a. did not bat an eyelash at the fact that I got drunk on a first date and b. was on her way to getting sauced herself after a rough day at work. Meanwhile, somewhere south of us, L was also out drinking heavily. Can you say cosmic connection?

Anyway, a little background on said date. The guy is M, a 36 year old high school teacher from Jersey. M and I had been messaging back and forth for a a few weeks. Things I liked about him: he’s an avid traveler and spends every summer at his family’s beach house in Italy, traveling all over the country and throughout Europe. Yes, you read that correctly. Summer beach house. In Italy. Um, hi. Sign me the f*ck up for that. He also teaches history, which is hot. And is 6’3. HOT. 

Things I wasn’t crazy about: he tried, from the moment we exchanged numbers, to CALL ME. There are few things I hate more than a phone conversation with a dude I’ve never met. I mean, what kind of sociopath wants to voluntarily talk on the phone with a total stranger, unless that stranger is a Comcast customer service team member and the cable is out? Even when the guy has a delicious British accent, it’s still inevitably the most awkward interaction ever. I successfully dodged the first few of M’s phone requests, hoping he’d take a hint, but he KEPT ASKING. I had to actively restrain myself from pulling a Regina George and shutting his Gretchen Weiners bullshit right down:


And then send him this insane little memo just in case he still didn’t get it:

Instead, I consented to 20 minutes of chatting the night before our date which was, AS PREDICTED, moderately awkward. I hate being right all the time. (Lies. I love it).

The night of our date rolled around, and mama was pretty grumpy. Here’s why:

  • The weird phone prelude freaked me out
  • I’d had a long ass day at work
  • the weather was disgustingly wet and humid, causing my hair to do some pretty unique things

I was just not feeling it. It was one of those days where I I wanted sooooo badly to go home and lay on my couch (aka pretty much every day), but I hate people who flake on plans last minute (ahem) so I dragged my salty self over to the bar.

How did the date go? Glad you asked. Conveniently I text-vomited a full summary to poor, unsuspecting D, which I will again post for your viewing pleasure:

d prohib 2

In case you haven’t noticed, yours truly is quite the drunk texter. I recently claimed (to no one who cared) that I live by the following motto: “When the drinks start flowin’, the fingers get goin’.” I mean, what? Also, it’s almost too easy, but…

Sorry/not sorry. Back to the date. I swear, I have never had my ear talked off by a man like I did with M. From the moment we met he was a Chatty Cathy, going on and on about his job, traveling, friends and family. This was actually a welcome development at first, since I usually have the EXACT opposite problem with dudes and have to essentially perform my own one woman show just to keep the awkward silences at bay. So honestly, up until the end of the night I truly enjoyed M’s chattiness. He was smart and interesting, not obnoxious or annoying.

It wasn’t until we arrived at the aforementioned whiskey bar and I was well on my way to being fully drunk that I realized… M had asked me almost nothing about myself. Literally almost nothing. In all fairness, I’m not exactly a shy wallflower (shocking, I know)  and can hold my own in a conversation, so there were plenty of times when I interjected with something and M listened with interest. So I guess it wasn’t that bad, just… weird. Anyway, on to my drunkenness. We had already had a flight of (delicious) beer at the first bar we went to, and then after revealing to him that I’d recently acquired a taste for whiskey, we decided to trek down the street to a whiskey bar for a “nightcap”. Except we walked in and it was like a budget remake of the Great Gatsby up in that piece. Champagne was a-flowin’. People were dressed in period garb. The normally wildly over-priced drinks were dirt cheap. You can guess what happened next…

Mama got sauced. M had to drive and is also gigantic in stature, so he was essentially fine, but I had 3 more BIG mixed drinks and a glass and a half of champagne. By the end I could hear myself slurring my words and also started to make best friends with our neighbors at the bar, something I only do when drunk. At one point the nice lesbian couple next to me discretely whispered, ‘is this a first date?’ and I practically shouted, so the entire (tiny) bar could hear, “It is a first date! Are we that obvious??” Smooth, S. Smooth.

Smart cookie that I am, I decided that we needed to go before I (further) embarrassed myself. I could at least tell through my haze that M seemed bemused rather than horrified by my antics, so I was confident that my behavior still passed for charming and hadn’t crossed over to fully obnoxious. Yet.But I calculated that I was roughly 15 minutes and half a drink away from this:


I announced that M needed to drive me home (in hindsight I was in no state to accept a ride from a strange man but hey, I obviously lived to tell about it. Calm down, mom.) M said he had a great time and would love to go out again (heard that one before!) and then went in for the kiss. It was a bold move, but drunk S was into it. It was actually a really nice first kiss, probably because we were in a warm car and I had a buzz on. But nice nonetheless.

The next morning, hungover and a little embarrassed, I went over the date in my head. And started to get annoyed by M’s apparent lack of interest in my life. I called in some experts, wondering if this was a red flag, but multiple sources told me he was probably either a. nervous (this seems most likely to me) or b. having a REALLY good time and was comfortable enough to open up. Either way, he didn’t berate me or lose his car, so I’m giving him a pass.

M and I have a second date set for Thursday. Let me tell you, there are few things more awkward than dating someone new right around your birthday. You feel like a weirdo not mentioning it at all, but you don’t want them to misunderstand your mention as a request for them to acknowledge it. I am probably ultra sensitive about this because last year I was in this very same position… I’d been seeing a guy briefly, it got out that it was my birthday, and he made a big fuss about it. Basically he INSISTED that we go out to dinner to celebrate even though I was super uncomfortable and told him ‘yeahhh we’re not seriously dating, that is sweet but really not necessary’. But again, he insisted, so I relented, thinking I’d at least get a nice dinner out of it. Then, the night of said dinner rolled around (also the day after my bday!) and this douchenozzle texts me to tell me 1. he was cancelling dinner and 2. didn’t want to see me anymore. Like I’m sorry, WHAT? I NEVER WANTED TO HAVE THIS WEIRD BIRTHDAY DINNER IN THE FIRST PLACE, YOU LUNATIC.

Anyhoodle. Clearly I have birthday date PTSD after that bullshit. So when M (very nicely) referred to this next date as my ‘birthday dinner’ I practically shouted him down in sheer alarm in distress. I just feel like I’m tempting fate by agreeing to this again, even if it is just dinner and even if I SCREAMED that I didn’t want any sort of fuss made over my birthday by someone I literally just met. Let me tell you, if M cancels, you poor readers WILL be hearing about it. Probably in all caps. 

Date rating: 7.5/10. M was a nice, interesting, smart, fun dude and a great kisser, but he talked wayyy too much.

Lesson learned: DRINK LESS. That is all.

Pic(s) of the week: Cat Fancy

Happy Hump Day, guys and gals. Don’t worry, I’m not going to bring up that Geico camel, tempting though it may be, but I would like to discuss another controversial animal: the common house cat.

Unlike my co-blogger L, whose hatred for felines has been well covered, I happen to like cats. I grew up with them and I never understood why they get such a bad rap, especially from smug, superior dog owners (you know who you are, guys.) Cats are clean, adorable, quiet, and soft. I enjoy them.

So I’ve established that I like cats. And that I’m single. I’m sure now (logically) you’re probably assuming that a typical night in my apartment looks a little something like this:

For your information, I actually don’t currently own any cats, Nor do I own a recliner. But show me someone who doesn’t enjoy vanilla frosting and Goldie Hawn portraying a deranged shut in with a death wish for Meryl Streep, and I’ll show you a liar.

Now, why am I going on this cat tangent before 10 am on a Wednesday morning? GREAT question. Last weekend I was lying in bed after a night out, waiting to get sleepy, and passing the time (naturally) by cruising Okcupid on my phone. I’ve recently discovered the app’s semi-new location feature, which is basically Tinder. In other words, Okc finds your location and shows you the profile pics of other dudes who are close by. Pics only. And you either say nope, not interested, and trash their pic, or say yes, I’m into that. When you pick someone, Okc will then let you know if that person, while scrolling through their local matches, picks you as well. This is a pretty senseless concept as I’m pretty sure most people on Okc aren’t even using the feature, and mama needs more than a pic to decide if I want to go out with someone.

Having said that, scrolling through these pics and tossing them into the yay or nay column has become one of my favorite ‘bored and playing with my phone’ pastimes. Take this night in question, for instance, when literally in the span of four minutes I happened upon three amazing/terrifying/creepy profile pics featuring men and CATS. Please note the time on each screen cap; when I say one right after the other I’m not joking. And please. Enjoy.

Creepy Cat Profile Pic #1:


Well that is… a face that not even a cat lover, and dare I say not even a mother could love. Terrifying. Also made me immediately think of this wildly racist, infinitely creepy little jaunt from a seminal Disney classic that yes, I’ve already referenced on the blog:

I was going to get all high and mighty about the cats being the villains in every movie but actually, looking at that creature perched on Beardsy McHipster, I totally believe that it’s an evil killing machine. Like, I’m assuming our man friend took it into the bathroom because he’s afraid if he leaves it alone it will figure out a way to kill him? And you know how I feel about bathroom selfies… a bathroom selfie with a terrifying animal perched on one’s shoulders is some next level shit.

Creepy Cat Profile Pic #2:


Ha. This one actually cracks me up. That kitty is adorable and I’m pretttyyyy sure this gentleman is driving. So wait, actually I’m a little alarmed… and come to think of it, he’s smiling for the camera, not looking at the road. That can’t be safe. Also, who’s taking the picture? Why is the cat out of a carrier and just like, straight chillin’ in the car? Where are you guys going? You’re not one of those creepy people who walks his cat on a leash, are you? Because even I’m scared of that.

cat leash

Creepy Cat Pic #3:


If this find doesn’t call for a mic drop, I don’t know what does.

beyonce drops-mic-o