All of us—men, women and everyone in between—know that online dating sucks. We’re tired of trawling anonymous profiles, tired of dating apps with a “novelty” angle, tired of boring, online conversations. Tired of being ghosted.
Personally, I got tired of canned pickup lines, lame PUA techniques and guys just hitting me up for my number—or even sex—without even bothering to have a conversation with me. I still have a profile on a few dating sites, in the vague hope that I might meet someone nice, but for the most part I’ve realized that online dating’s not for me.
Let’s be honest—dudes spend less time crafting their messages than they do checking out the cleavage in your photos, so I spend even less time reading them. In fact, it’s getting close to zero.
So, if I don’t do online dating, where do I meet guys? If you’re a little slow, here’s the answer: in the real world. That’s right, bars, clubs, cafes, the library, at my yoga class (just don’t stare at me butt in my Onzies)—you know, the kinds of places where cute, awkward interactions happen that make your heart race. The kind of place where you might meet that guy that really is like a John Cusack character from an 80’s movie. The kind of place where something wild and romantic might happen (and no boys, that doesn’t necessarily mean sex). While it’s still likely that you might get called a slut or a cunt by a guy that approaches you in a bar or on the street, it’s much less likely than it is online. For all you keyboard warriors, you know it’s easier to say something sexist or racist in an anonymous comment online than it is to someone’s face—especially if you kind of like them.
One thing I respect about the guys who approach me in the real world is that they have to think about what they’re going to say, and they have to make an effort to impress me.
There’s no copy and paste in real life.
So even when they bomb, say something awkward (or even vaguely misogynistic) I give them the benefit of the doubt. And, I give them my number—every single time.
I love the glow on their faces when they see they’ve won my digits, when they see they’ve got a shot. Could this be it? Could they finally be getting laid? Maybe. And it’s all because they put in a little effort. Just a little–it’s not that hard after all, is it? Even if I’m not the one, or even their date this Friday night, they’ve got a clue.
So, this is the 21st Century. It’s not like the 80’s where you had an answering machine that some creep could leave endless messages on. It’s pretty easy to block a number, set up custom vibrations for different numbers—or you can even set up a free number on Google Voice that you give out to strangers.
What I’m saying is, yes, I give out my number to every man who asks me. But that doesn’t mean I date every man that asks me. Even if I liked you at the time, a girl can change her mind. That’s my right. Maybe you got an A+ for effort but you’re a little on the short side (I like tall men). Or maybe I thought you had a nice body, but in retrospect your jokes just weren’t that funny (and maybe a little too misogynistic).
After all, if you had a choice between a date with me and chance to fuck Emily Ratajkowski, you’d probably fuck Emily Ratajkowski right? I respect that, so you need to respect my right not to go on a date with you, or even answer your calls.