Thanksgiving miracle! (Something non-awful from eHarmony)

Who’s ready for tomorrow?

wheres that turkey


How about delicious sides? Excessive drinking? Pie? Uncomfortable disagreements about politics? Invasive questions from relatives?

That last thought has been in my head since we posted this gem on Twitter last week:





Then yesterday my nemesis, eHarmony, blew up my spot with a timely little email:


I know, I know, why am I still subscribed to their sad little e-newsletter if 1. I hate their site more than I hate opening my cable bill every month (sob, Comast, sob) and 2. I’m NOT EVEN A PAYING MEMBER? Valid questions, friends. The answer is that I love to open up these newsletters, hate-read the (usually) terrible headlines, cackle at eHarmony’s continued attempts to recruit me into their cult, and then press delete with a satisfying click of my mouse. 

hate fire


So I clicked on the above article (link here) with a self-satisfied smirk, ready to rip it to shreds, but damn it if it wasn’t kind of good. And…helpful. What sort of alternate universe is this, eHarmony? Is this a trick?



Single readers, if you’re finding yourself dreading answering the ‘seeing anyone special?’ question tomorrow, check it out. But I do have to say, if someone actually had the gall to ask me the third example in this article, which is:

“Aren’t you afraid you’ll spend the rest of your life alone?”

hell come


I would probably flip the Thanksgiving table,

table flip



grab the stuffing and bounce. Because yowza, that shit is outrageously rude. Am I just naive, here? Has anyone actually been asked that question?

Also, I realized it’s no surprise that I enjoyed this article because it was written by an author who we’ve mentioned before, Sarah Eckel. Seriously, her NY Times articles about being single for most of her adult life are great, and super validating. Now I kind of feel like this post comes like a paid endorsement but I promise you, we don’t know the author (although if you’re reading this, Sarah, call us!) and this post is not sponsored (if we were going to monetize this blog, we w0uld not be partnering with eHarmony to do it). 

I will say this: the awesome thing about having StuCu is that when I do get those annoying questions about my dating life, now I can just obnoxiously be that guy at a holiday get together and REFER THEM TO MY BLOG. Here’s a little script of what I might be saying tomorrow:

“Oh actually, Aunt ___/Uncle ___/cousin ___/neighbor who I awkwardly ran into in my parents’ driveway, it’s funny you ask because I recently decided to chronicle my failed dating adventures on the internet with two single friends–you should check it out! Maybe reading about all the shenanigans we’ve been through will answer your question!” *winning smile*

And then I’ll slip them our business card because yes, we actually ordered business cards.

kevin g

kevin g card



Here’s hoping my fellow Americans out there have a wonderful Turkey Day, and for my single sisters (and brothers) out there, I hope the questioning is short and sweet. Now excuse me, but I’m home at my parents’ house and need to go get on this level…

Worst date ever contest: Entry #1

Hi, friends. Did you wake up this morning with a post-holiday weekend case of the Mondays? Do your pants no longer fit after four days of carbo-loading? Are you still recovering from the trauma of attending your 10 year high school reunion? Or is that just me and L?

romy and michele

Never fear. We’ve got the cure here at Stucu, and that cure is other people’s misery. Schadenfreude FTW!

We LOVED reading your submissions to our ‘worst date ever’ contest: between the picture fraud, money drama, tooth issues, sexual harassment and general soul crushing awkwardness you shared, the three of us are (for once) feeling like our dating lives are not the bleakest on the planet. And for that, dear readers, we will be eternally grateful.

We’ve picked five worst date tales to share with you. We’ll post one story each day this week for your enjoyment, and on Friday when we post the last story you’ll be able to vote for your favorite. The three winners will receive some swanky Stucu swag (say that five times fast–dare you) but more importantly, the honor and glory of being pitied most grievously by their internet peers. Thanks to all who participated and happy reading!

Entry #1—Dental Drama

So when we say “worst date ever” contest, the original interpretation is quite obvious, but how about “worst date ever” when you are in fact the culprit?  Let us begin.

Years ago I went on my first date with my now husband. We went figure skating and out to a pizza place I had never tried. To provide some very important and oh-so-embarrassing context, I have tooth implants. I have two fake teeth right up front in my mouth, and at that time, I was wearing one of those Invisalign retainers with two fake teeth in them. This retainer was quite old, and if you think food didn’t get stuck between the plastic and the fake teeth, think again. This led to some pretty unique food filled smiles (I could literally write a book).

So post pizza, my nerves high and wondering if there would be a kiss, I did what any toothless gal would do and waited for my date to become preoccupied.  When he was searching around for the waiter to ask for the check (we split, #firstdatedebate), I pulled out my teeth to do an inspection. My gut was right: pasta sauce and cheese had manifested itself in my retainer in front of my teeth.  Again, thinking my date was preoccupied, I did what at the time seemed logical (missing teeth = missing part of one’s brain), and started swirling my retainer around in a glass of water on the table like it was a god damn dishwasher.

The horror and curiosity on my date’s face was unparalleled. I knew I had absolutely blown it.  It’s hard to really laugh at the whole “pulled out my dentures to clean them at the table while in a restaurant” routine, so the check came and we headed out. I was mortified at my own dental date behavior and thought that was it.  My crush that I was obsessing over for 6 months was going to walk away. But obviously, since I’ve mentioned him as my husband, this story ends well. The true moral of the story here is: go to the bathroom to deal with your teeth issues, girls!