About a year ago, while hanging out with a friend of a friend, I was complaining about how emotionally exhausted I was by online dating and seeking romance in general. She mentioned how she’d been speaking to a couple guys herself, and that she’d be happy to pass one along to me. She gave me the guy’s number and let him know someone would be contacting him. Thus began one of the most confusing experiences of my life.
Sometimes even I need a break from feminist rants and the horrors of the world. Shocking, I know. So, in light of this, I thought I’d copy the idea of a much greater blogger than I: Allie of Hyperbole and a Half. In her 2013 book of the same name, one of the segments consists of her writing letters to her past selves of various ages to question their decisions and to offer advice. It is hilarious. Go read it now.
In the same vein, I thought I would also write letters to Past Sam, because Past Sam was pretty dumb and I question her motivations every day. Not to say that Present Sam isn’t also kind of dumb, but I digress…
Dear Toronto Nice Guy™,
I am writing in response to the lovely message you’ve been leaving us Ladies™ around the city, as seen here:
Firstly, I would like to thank you for your obviously very sincere concern. It’s been so long since such a Classy Gentleman™ has shown any regard or respect for me as a person. In fact, whenever I pass men on the street, I have become accustomed to being punched in the face, thrown into a nearby garbage can, and spat on. It’s so comforting to know that there is someone out there, fedora at the ready, who is just waiting to “crush the life out of other men that would do me harm”.
I am so sorry that your proposals for “friendly evening chats” have been rejected by all those nasty women on their way home from a tiring day at work or standing in line at Starbucks, minding their own business. How dare they not grant you, a random stranger, their time and undivided attention! As we all know, those women have spent their entire days – nay, entire lives – just dreaming about being chatted up by a Nice Guy™ like you…only to shun the opportunity without a second thought! Those bitches!
And I, for one, would be ever so grateful if a big, strong man such as you offered to help me, a Fragile Delicate Lady™, carry my two bags of groceries to my car. Whenever I go to the grocery store, if there are no Men™ around to help me, I have no choice but to put my grocery bags on the ground and kick them across the lot to my car. My Delicate Lady Hands™ just can’t handle the stress. This method is unfortunately very inefficient and results in a lot of damaged goods. I don’t even bother buying apples or bananas anymore. But with you…I’d be able to have all the easily-bruised fruit I could ever eat!
It’s true; there are far too many men in this world who are, indeed, scum. And we, with our delicate and naive Lady Brains™, need help protecting ourselves from them. Thankfully, it’s clear that you are one of the Good Guys™. One who, for the extremely admirable act of treating Ladies™ like human beings, only asks for one tiny thing in return – sexual and/or romantic validation! After all, you were Nice™ to us! You held open the door, didn’t catcall or degrade us (to our faces, anyway), and walked us five steps to our cars! We OWE you! As we all know, each act of Niceness™ earns you one coupon for a sexual and/or romantic favour, to be cashed whenever you see fit. And of course, if the Lady™ refuses to accept your coupon, it absolutely entitles you to a tantrum. After all, why would you be nice to anyone if you didn’t get anything in return? What would be the point? General human respect? Pfft.
To think that you are losing sleep over women’s personal life choices…oh, how it pains me so! If only these women could see that you are our true saviour, our true knight in shining armour. Mark my words, I have seen the light. Please, Sir Nice Guy™. I am your damsel in distress, waiting atop my tower of despair, where I was locked by a band of Asshole Other Men™. Come free me. I promise, for the noble act of treating me like a human being, I offer you unlimited blowjobs for as long as we both shall live.
My panties are dropping as I type, fuelled by the sheer force of desire emanating from my vagina.
All of my love,
If you’d like to read more on my thoughts about Nice Guys™, please click here!
Due to the fact that it’s 2015, I am not ashamed to publicly announce that I have dabbled in the wondrous world of online dating. At this point, if you are a single person between the ages of 18 and 28 and haven’t at least had a Tinder account for two hours as a joke, you are probably an alien doing a poor job of fitting in with human society.
There are a great number of benefits to meeting people online, such as the potential to be exposed to people you probably wouldn’t have met otherwise. For me, a huge benefit is the lack of initial face-to-face interaction. I am absolutely horrible at face-to-face interaction with new people. I get all anxious and my brain goes blank. I end up either coming off as unsociable and unfriendly, or else I start babbling word vomit and tell the hilarious but inappropriate story of the time I got really drunk and puked on one of my best friends while we were sleeping in my bed (sorry, Brittany). Through text, I am able to thoughtfully compose replies and edit as I see fit, thus enabling me to present myself as charming, articulate, and humorous, which is only sort of lying. Then, if I actually end up meeting the person in real life, they will still think I am charming and hilarious, no matter how many puke stories I tell (I have a collection, you see).
One of the downsides of online dating is that it often tests your faith in the male population, if not humanity as a whole. Don’t get me wrong; I’ve absolutely met some nice people online, and even the ones that didn’t work out were due more to a lack of conversational compatibility than anything (or they didn’t have anything more compelling to say than “hey watsup” and “lol”). But, I’ve had more than enough…um…interesting experiences to make signing into my online profiles an emotionally exhausting endeavour. What will happen today? Will I be sexually harassed? Negged? Propositioned and subsequently insulted by a man old enough to be my father? Bombarded by a myriad of white guys holding up dead fish? Every swipe, click, and/or tap is truly an adventure!
So, without further ado, I invite you to follow me into the realm of fuckboys, douches, man-babies, and custy old dudes, if you dare.
I think (or, I hope) I speak for most people when I say that routine check-ups at the doctor’s are rarely pleasant and often nerve-wracking. Am I secretly dying? Do I have a late stage of some unknown and/or untreatable disease? Such is the culture of WebMD, where a muscle twinge could be a sign of cancer. Or maybe I’m just paranoid.Read More »
Dear Nice Guy™,
So, there you were, swiping along on Tinder, when you came across a pretty girl. Let’s call her Betty. You checked out her profile, and she seemed like a cool gal, so you gave her a right swipe. Lo and behold, a match!
After chatting some, you and Betty decided to meet up. Low-pressure; a casual dinner date. You talked, you laughed, you had a nice time. The date ended, I’m sure you felt, on a positive note. Betty came home and recounted the date – her first Tinder meet-up, in fact. She’d been quite nervous beforehand, considering “Don’t meet up with strangers from the Internet” is basically the first lesson you learn in Not Being Kidnapped 101. She said you were very nice and had enough in common to keep the conversation flowing, but that she didn’t really feel any sort of “spark”. Overall, though, a positive Tinder experience, considering she hadn’t been murdered.Read More »
So, I have a confession. This might come as a surprise, but…I am a feminist. A big, huge, raging Crazy Feminazi™. Actually, that really shouldn’t be a surprise. If you’ve read more than one of my posts and haven’t figured that one out for yourself, I don’t really know what to tell you.
As you’ve probably noticed, feminism has kind of been having its day in the light for the past couple years or so. Some might even call it “trendy”. Nowadays, it seems that every time a female celebrity gets interviewed, she gets asked the question, “Are you a feminist?” And, I mean, I guess that’s better than asking mundane questions about their diets for their latest movies or where they get their hair done or whatever, but many of their answers have revealed something about the public’s view on this controversial topic:
People really, really don’t know what feminism even is.
Of course, I’m far from the first one to try to correct these misconceptions, but I thought I might as well add my voice to the crowd, because I really like hearing myself talk (reading myself write, whatever, same/diff). So, without further ado, here are a few of the most common “myths” about feminism that I encounter in my trollings around the Web and in my daily life:Read More »
Ladies and gentlemen! I have an announcement, for which I know you have all been waiting with bated breath:
My leather pants, the pants that started it all, officially fit my body once again.
I don’t have to suck in to do them up, I can breathe, and there will be no lacerations should I decide to sit down. I will now be able to resume my dream of appearing to be a dominatrix biker-chick. Can you hear the Hallelujah chorus?Read More »
Dear dude on the subway three Thursday nights ago,
It was 10 o’clock on the night before Halloween, and the first night of Halloweekend. Halloween is one of my favourite times of the year; you get to be whoever and whatever you want, be as sexy or silly or weird as you want, and nobody will say anything about it.
Or so I thought.Read More »