Dating Is Really Complicated

I know it may be hard to believe*, but I generally don’t spend a whole lot of my time dating. I mean, I can indulge in online dating with the best of them, but that’s never really worked out in my favor in the long run. I’m not very good at convincing the male half of the population that I am mysterious and date-able.
*Unless you’ve been reading this blog for a while.


Apparently guys don’t have a resounding appreciation for spontaneous sock puppet shows. I wish someone had told me.

But every now and then, a guy comes along that convinces me that dating is absolutely fun and worthwhile.

I don't know what you mean. I am totally normal.

What? Doesn’t every girl stand with her hands behind her back all the time?

Being asked out is fun. It’s exciting and fills the world with all sorts of possibilities. But then, trouble strikes.


Trouble always seems to strike me in the form of complicated hair products.

There is always a flurry of activity as I try to remember how to be a real girl – one who has a working knowledge of eyelash curlers and a steady hand at eyeliner and mysteriously perfectly white teeth.

Ow Ow Ow

This is an accurate depiction of date preparation. Sometimes there are injuries.

All of this is to achieve the apparent goal of looking like a perfect stranger by the time the aforementioned guy comes to pick me up.


I think the goal really might be to convince guys that we women are magicians.

I do not know why this is. I have to assume it’s not just me who does this. But either way – dating is really confusing and complicated and requires a remarkable amount of preparation.

So maybe some day I’ll actually date someone long enough to just stay in.

This ALSO explains a lot about my lovelife.

Because it is very important to judge dates based on their sock puppet skills.

More Sweet Poems from the Internet

The Internet is an amazing world of creativity, facts and possibilities. It’s also a dark pit of online dating sites. We’ve already discussed the fact that Zoosk thwarted my attempts to quit their online matchmaking services, but now I have a confession.

I can’t bring myself to miss out on the amazing entertainment value of the seduction attempts of The Men of Zoosk.

Curly mustaches!

The Men of Zoosk: Making handlebar mustaches look better than ever.

For the second time, I bring you:

(Better defined as “Zoosk Poetry.” The dulcet words of potential woo-ers in the Land of Zoosk.)

I think UR a QT!
(Are you a real person? Or are you a Dateline spy trying to trick me into dating a 42 year old man for some special report? I’m on to you!)

<Series of numbers that are probably a phone number but I’m going to pretend they aren’t.> Tex mi.
(Oooo….Is this like the DaVinci Code? Will that series of numbers lead me to understand exactly what “Tex mi” means? Or are you a Texan? There are just so many possibilities here.)

If I sound drunk, it’s because you intoxicate me.
(Dammit. I’ve always wanted to be someone’s anti-drug. I guess I’ll have to settle for being a form of booze. Life goal failed.)

Oh so your too cute.
(Oh so grammar is not your thing.)

What’s your favorite type of naked game?
(Ok. Ok. We’re drawing a line right here. Because this is not a thing real people EVER SAY TO STRANGERS outside of a mental institution. Also, my favorite type of naked game is the one where everyone’s clothes are still on so everyone’s naked is still a secret. Keep it in your pants, or I’m calling Dateline. I have a direct line to them now.)

Did it hurt when you fell from heaven? Because you’re obviously an angel.
(Yes. It did. A lot. It’s not very nice to ask about someone’s traumatic history.)

What does it feel like to be a blonde joke?
(…At last. A man interested in my life-long struggle.)

If I sound drunk, it’s because you’re so intoxicating.
(Guys! GUYS! I got this one TWICE! It MUST be true!)

Nerdy is hot sometimes.
(Oh. Are we playing the “sometimes a fact statement” game? Because stovetops are hot sometimes. And the weather is occasionally inclement.)

Honestly, it’s just amazing that these men are still single.* Fellow single ladies, we have our pick of the litter.
*Proving Darwin’s theory of natural selection reassuringly true. 

In other news, sometimes I indulge in activities that aren’t just on the Internet.

This past weekend I went bowling and ice skating. And, because I am a coordinated lady, I fell during bowling. But not during ice skating.***

Figure skaters would look amazing on hockey skates

My hockey skates bring all the boys to the yard. Errr…the ice rink.

***Ok, so I also fell during ice skating, but when ice skating, I fell on top of someone – so I had help. During bowling, I fell all on my own

I would marvel at this, but there’s an obvious explanation. When bowling, I was trying to convince a charming man I was charming, too.**** I went ice skating with friends who already know of my tendency to fall at unexpected times.
****See? Sometimes I interact with real live men. It happens. Don’t look so shocked.

No one to impress = less falling. It’s basic physics.

Only I could find a dinosaur on a date.

As a consolation, I found this tiny orphan dinosaur at the bowling alley. So, you know, there’s that.

So, in summation: Darwin is a genius, and I really like dinosaurs. Happy Monday, everyone.

Dating in your 20s Is Completely Awful

A friend of mine (you know who you are) recently asked me why I don’t blog about my dating experiences. As a single girl in my mid-late-20s, it seems like a natural topic to dive into. Especially since I’ve spent the last eight or so months dating like it was a second job.

There is one simple reason I don’t blog about my dating experiences.

They’re awful.


I’m starting to think I should invent a Life Alert for bad dates.

No, seriously. Over the past eight or so months, I have found myself on dates with people who tell me, in depth, about how they would survive a zombie apocalypse by murdering everyone around them (graphic details were included). I have been on dates with people who gave me stacks of their garish business cards to “distribute to my friends.” (I’m still not sure why I would do that.) I have been on dates with people who legitimately used bad pickup lines in all seriousness. I have been stalked, stood up, proposed to, and propositioned.

At first, the horribleness of mid-late-20s dating was funny. Now it’s just dull, predictable, and sort of sad. So I don’t blog about the chronicles of my romantic life because I am seriously considering getting more cats and eating a chocolate cake.

Here is a picture to brighten your day:

Happier thoughts.

You’re welcome.

In case you think I’m just not putting effort into meeting proper guys, here are the ways I have scoured the world for happy dates:

OKCupid? Tried it. Got stalked.

Plenty of Fish? Tried it. Quit due to my aversion to being murdered.

Match? Tried it. …Ok, this one wasn’t totally hopeless.

Zoosk? Tried it. Hate it.

EHarmony? …Nope. Not doing it.

Totally meeting normal people and agreeing to dates? Nope. This is not something people do in the south. Because everyone is already married.