Judge Me: I Am the Crazy Lady With Arbitrary Dating "Rules"

A while back I completely blew off a one-word text from a guy I have every reason to think is a decent human being. I rationalized it by telling myself that "sup?" does not a conversation make. Since this is a guy I don't really know too well, I'm pretty certain that's that. So now I'm a huge jerk! And the truth is, if he did text me again? There's no way I'd answer, since who keeps after a jerk who blows them off?

Because I have arbitrary dating rules.

Feminist Women On The Moon

Everyone, I think it's time we got out. When Planned Parenthood (and also Nancy Pelosi) tweeted that photo of a sausage fest testifying to congress about women's rights to have control over their own bodies, I was so speechless with rage I almost clawed my own eyes out. Self harm! It's no good. Look, we've tried. We marched, we yelled, we begged we pleaded, we cajoled and we patiently explained.  And after a hundred years a group of men sit in front of the body that will determine whether women have a right to take medicine, and everybody's all, "U mad?" 

I think it's time to put that plan into action...you know, the one we were talking about the last time we were drinking whiskey and braiding each other's hair?  Let's find whatever moon colony plans Newt Gingrich has been able to work on and steal them to build our own feminists-only moonbase.

I acknowledge how Ayn Rand/John Galt-y this plan is. But read what I wrote up there in the beginning. Self harm! A hundred years and we're back outside banging on the doors? And nobody can even conceive how that might be a problem? We need to just gather our bats and gloves--and uteri since that's all anybody cares about ever!--and get out of Dodge. 

Happy Valentines Day! Facebook Wants You To Die Alone

Have you checked your Facebook messages today? Oh you have? Have you checked the OTHER messages today? You know, the secret ones that Facebook doesn't give you alerts for?

Over a year ago, Facebook changed the messages function, sorting all incoming messages and sending them to one of two inboxes: those they determine are "meaningful," like messages from people you're already friends with or pages with whom you interact a lot, go in the main inbox and you get an alert. Messages from people you aren't friends with or don't interact with as much get thrown into a bottomless void they've labeled "Other." And you don't get an alert. Which, on the surface, seems like a decent idea. Who cares that the 1000-miles-away-museum you Liked after vacation last year is having a canned food drive?

But two things suck about this: One, that to my knowledge Facebook didn't bother to let people know that their messages were being sorted this way. Two, that not only can you not change the sorting preferences so that more messages go into the main box, but you can't even automatically display the "Other" submailbox in your home screen. Which, since you don't get alerts that you have a new message in a box you can't see, means that you have to remind yourself to physically go looking for possible messages whenever you log onto Facebook.

So, what did you find when you checked out your hidden messages? Anything good? Because I found a BOY.

I Want An IKEA Boyfriend

Dear Santa, for Christmas this year will you bring me an Ikea Boyfriend?

I'm starting to realize that my job/schedule/lifestyle/selfishness/compulsion to eat peanut butter straight from the jar precludes my having the full on boyfriend-boyfriend experience. Yes, this is largely the same logic I use, re: a dog. Which is fine, I like my unwavering devotion to working out every day and the fact that there are no Doritos in my house. Besides, holiday parties, cold winter nights, shoveling out from under two feet of snow? All things that would be made unbearably worse if there was a significant other tagging along, no?

What I want is a man-person whose sole responsibility is to come with me when I go to Ikea: an Ikea Boyfriend. Because Ikea is a place you really shouldn't go to without a partner.

Okay, sometimes being the only single person in Ikea is fun. You can give smug looks to the young couple arguing over "but WHICH throw pillow covers!" Smug looks that say, "well, I guess there are three of us who definitely aren't getting laid tonight! But at least I can buy whichever throw pillow cover I darn well please."

Amusingly Horrible Things That Have Been Said During Pick Up Attempts, In No Particular Order

...By Him

"We could go see Harry Potter. And if there was, like, kissing and stuff, that would be nice. I mean if you want." [Officer, I did not know he was 12. He was in a bar!]

"How old are you? Oh good you're in my range. It's 25- to 39-ish. [For what?] For dinner"

"My goal is to talk to you for a while and then another goal is to maybe have your phone number eventually."--Goals!

"So? I hate the radio."--In response to me finally telling him what I do for a living, after avoiding the questions and changing the subject a hundred times.

SPOILER ALERT: Men Don't Actually Want Funny Ladies After All

Or at least a great deal of men who talked to The Gloss don't. I love The Gloss, and Jennifer Wright was right, her Real Talk slideshow was definitely the most depressing thing I read all day. Not that I wasn't already pretty certain what the answers would be, just from personal experience.

The worst guys in the slideshow are the ones who think they really do like funny women--or try really hard to sound like they do because they feel like they should, but then their words betray them:

I'd definitely prefer to date a woman with a good sense of humor. The only reason I date anymore is to have stories to entertain my friends with, so even better if she can laugh at them, too.

Carl! You're sneaky! You make it sound like you would love to be with a lady who is funny but it turns out you define female humor as laughing at YOUR jokes! I see what you did there. Extra points for the "whatever I don't want girls anyway" fakeout. Actually, the idea that "I'd love a funny woman who will laugh at my jokes AND THEN if she makes me laugh too, that's a bonus" crops up a lot. I do not think this word means what you think it means, boys; even Siri will laugh at your jokes.

Should We Have a Conversation About Yogasms?

...because I feel like it would go something like, "what?! girl, gross. really?!? ugh, ew. what?" And then I would have to feel bad that my Catholic upbringing makes me prudish about doing sex things in public places and won't let me be happy for people who spell yOga with a Capital "O" [PS yes this will be full of euphemisms, in case the Baby Jesus is reading].

A Daily Beast article is currently going viral wherein ladies are orgasming all over the place at yoga classes. There's even a word for it--yogasm--so it has to be thing, right? It's "on the rise!" Like cancer! Be afraid: orgasms! Who can tell when one will strike next! Well, I kind of think I can. I definitely believe that these women are telling the truth, but then again there's this:

“I was in lotus pose, focusing on breathing and lifting the muscles of my pelvic floor,” she said. She wasn’t prepared for what happened after her instructor pressed his body against her back and synchronized his breath with hers, lifting her ribs as she inhaled, and pushing down on her thighs as she exhaled. “I was tingling all over!” she gushed...The teacher is a famous name in New York City’s yoga circuit. Toned and tattooed, Rojas gives classes that are often packed with women hoping to get some hands-on instruction."

An Alternate Interpretation of The Most Sexist Ad of All Time

Because uuugh for the thousandth time I have to get mad about this exact same thing that hasn't really changed but just gotten more subtle over the past 60 years. But I mean listen to the music cues: sure she ended up at the airport, but on her way there she was clearly foiling a Soviet plot to take over America, and they can't show that because of national security etc, but obviously this woman is A BADASS SECRET SPY. And when she slides over so that her misogynist (cover!) husband can drive, she's all, "HA! You're WELCOME. Sucker."

Why I Don't Lie About Being Single

Last week, after an appearance, I found myself asking the question I'm sure women whose jobs entail meeting lots of strangers ask themselves at some point:  should I just wear a fake engagement ring already?  99 percent of the guys who were at the place were nice and fun and etc, but it was a singles mixer so of course it brought out the Predators. The ones who just won't take no. The ones who can't comprehend that a woman who is there working is not there to meet singles. Which would have been the antithesis of my actual function at said mixer, which was to facilitate the hooking-up of other singles. That would have been like a waiter taking a bite of the cheesecake before taking it out to the table (I mean, there was a cover charge. I can't swoop in for free and take all the men.  Plus I ate the free buffet, so I had already stolen enough for one night).

The Weekday Afternoon Date: WTF How Is This A Thing

You look so beautiful at 2p on a Wednesday.

Is the unemployment crisis so bad that nobody has a job? Instead of going to work we go on dates?