It’s The End of an Era

Or: I Finally Figured Out How to Quit Zoosk

Guys. Today is an important day. A day of both joy and sorrow. A day of celebration and mourning. A day of overly dramatic, hyberbolic statements in introduction paragraphs.

Today is the day I finally completely rejected the advances of Zoosk and demanded it never talk to me again.*
*And that it return all the mixtapes I gave it.

I'll never let go, Zoosk! I'll never let go!

Those tears of sorrow are super heartfelt, I’m sure.

Now, everyone** knows Zoosk and I have had a tumultuous relationship. For one thing, the first time I tried to quit it, it repeatedly crashed until I gave up and read all the nonsense poetry people were writing to me. 
**All the people I imagine read this in the quiet comfort of my own head

And then I was hooked. The pickup lines were too impressive. Too ridiculous. Too…incredibly obviously not going to work.  Honestly, things were getting bad. I was going to end up TLC’s My Strange Addiction, confessing to strangers how I just couldn’t quit reading the bad poetry of pickup lines on the Internet.

Something had to be done.

(It’s also possible that I’m just maybe seeing a real live guy. Maybe.
…Shut up. It IS possible!)

So, on this solemn occasion, I bring you (for the final time)…

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

“Do you have a map? I keep getting lost in your eyes.”
(No. I don’t have a map. Man up and stop to ask for directions. Duh.)

“I hope you know CPR, because you take my breath away.”
(Nope. I took it, therefore it’s mine. I’m not giving it back.)

“What does it feel like to be the best looking person in this room?”
(Oh man. We’re getting super metaphysical here. In “this” room? Like, the one-on-one chat “room” you’re trying to start with me? Or the room of Zoosk? Clarify here, so I can know how flattered to be.)

“What’s your favorite scary movie?”
(Oh, we’re starting off with movie quotes? Then how about this one: “I thought you’d be taller.”)

“Why aren’t you in jail? It’s illegal to look that good.”
(You don’t know that I’m not. Stop making assumptions.)

“Describe in one sentence the kind of person you’re looking for.”
(“Not a serial killer.” Wait! That’s a fragment. Let me try again. “The kind of man who does not end sentences with prepositions.”)

“Why is a good looking person like you still single?”
(….This is not a legitimate question. Try again.)

“I know you lost your phone number, so here’s mine. <phone number included.>”
(…Know what? That’s thinking outside the box. It’s also a way to end up getting drunk texts from strangers at 3 in the morning.)

“When I saw you, I fainted and hit my head. I need your name and number for insurance reasons.”
(Oh, holy crap! Of course! I’m SO sor-wait a minute. This is a trick!)

And, the best of all of them:

“You r pretty enough.”
(…Wait. Wait wait. Pretty enough? Enough for what? What system of measurement are we using here, and what’s the competition? I need answers!)

And so an era of dating website mockery ends. At last, I shall no longer stay up until 2:30 in the morning on a work night, flipping through messages to note down the very best ones for blogging purposes. My pre-geriatric bedtime shall be restored!

I know. This leaves us all very sad.**** So I shall leave you with a thought experiment to take your mind off things:
****Also there have been exactly zero actual doodles in this post.

I present to you Schrödinger’s Cake.

Cake is better to experiment on than cats

There may be cake inside. There may be no cake inside. There both is and is not cake…Until you look inside.

Guys. The cake might be a lie. But it also might not be. There could be cake in there.

The cake is a lie the cake is a lie

It’s not really a lie if I knew it was once a truth…

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.

Oh Zoosk. I Just Can’t Quit You

And I tried. Seriously. But apparently Zoosk is generally against me not being a part of its online community. It must be my innate charm. Or my photos that make me look like a deranged convict.


Go ahead. Just try and figure out what I actually look like from this helpful photo.

It’s probably the photos.

You may have gleaned that in recent times, I have had excessive practice dating. Well, I went on a hiatus. I tried to quit all of the online dating sites that were amusing me in my off hours. Amazingly, some of them refused my attempts to quit.* Ultimately this means that my profile still lurks the dark pages of the Internet, inviting messages that prompt email alerts and make a girl feel popular.

*By repeatedly breaking every time I tried to quit, until I got tired of the Internet and wandered off to watch The Muppet Show and eat cookies.

One of Zoosk’s unique site gimmicks is that they rank your popularity. Apparently, I am popular.

Ouch, Zoosk

Thanks, Zoosk!

And apparently in this context, popular means “dead in the middle average.” They have their own dictionary. It applies only to the land of Internet dating.

I would like to share with you the sweet seduction of Zoosk. These are the first messages people send me. We haven’t been conversing before. In fact, Zoosk only lets you send or read one message before demanding you pay them money and join their cult forever.** And, this one special time, I am going to also share with you my reactions to these smooth moves.

**Until you break down and marry whoever comes along, just to get the hell off the site.


Click if you would like to join the magical world of…really awkward messages.

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

“Hello, I’m a thief, and I’m here to steal your heart.”
(Hands off. I need that for circulation. But I appreciate your polite up-frontness.)

“Hi. Call <number redacted>. Mua.”
(What, for a good time? Is this a bathroom stall wall? Also, what is mua? Is that a kiss noise, or your name, or some form of Internet abbreviation I am too out of touch to know? I NEED ANSWERS.)

“I wanna practice wit u.”
(Practice _what_ exactly?)

“<Number redacted>”
(What, no instructions?! How will I know what to do with those digits?!)

“I’d love to go muddin’ with you.”
(I don’t…what…I…Get off the Internet!)

“First quality I notice in a woman is a beautiful smile. Yours has overwhelmed me in a wonderful way I never thought possible …”
(Oh crap. My smile is overwhelming?! I didn’t know. Have I been using this power for evil? NOOOOOO.)

“Wow u so beautiful”

“You don’t need a car to drive me crazy!”
(Oh, I see what you did there….)

“Wouldn’t we look cute on top of a wedding cake?”
(Oh, hey now. Hey hey hey. I haven’t even said hello yet. Now we’re going to go ruin someone’s wedding and stand on a ca-Oh. Oh. I see. That’s moving a little quickly, don’t you think?)

“Hi my is Jimmy and I.”
(…I don’t know where to go from here, Jimmy and I. I got nothin’.)

“I lost my phone number can I have yours?”
(YES! IT FINALLY HAPPENED! Someone ACTUALLY used this line on me!! And no.)

“I love cats.”
(Done. Done deal. Lets go get on top of a wedding cake. Just save me from this site.)

Now, you might think this is bragging. That I’m preening over how many people on the Internet have said nice things to me. But if you’re thinking that, then you have never been on an online dating site. First messages bubble with flattery and tales of your legendary beauty*** in the hopes of making a good impression – not because they actually think you’re pretty.

***Or handsomeness. I’m totally not sexiest. And I have no idea what the man experience is on these. Maybe women just send you messages that say “Meeee-yow!” and “Hey Hot Buns.” It could be painfully objectifying and way less flattering. It probably is, since none of you are wearing any shirts.

Also, in case you were wondering, Zoosk sent me a message today. On Zoosk.

Curly mustaches!

Apparently Zoosk allowed someone to pick the username Zoosk. Way to go, Zoosk.

The Internet is a land of lies. But there’s consolation in the universe. Like when your friend makes you ninjabread cookies and you eat them all while watching The Muppet Show.

Om nom nom nom

It’s a proven fact. Cookies that fight are the most delicious cookies, because only the best survive to consumption.

Happy Friday, you guys.

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.