) be slowly roasted in a stew of his own fedoras, watched over by the legions of women who have to try to figure out why this person who ostensibly wants to date them just called them “pretty but not in an intimidating way.”1.The Neg For the blissfully unacquainted, to “neg” someone is to basically insult her while pretending to compliment her.It’s spitting in her face and then asking her out after.
A few precious gems were legitimately nice and pleasant, but their presence in my inbox was so minuscule as to hardly be noticeable. I think this is on the way out, but it’s lingering. I am interested in historical records on some of the most pressing matters of our time.
If I didn’t have corrective contact lenses, I wouldn’t have even been able to see them. But whatever, you get my point.) These messages were like these little lifesavers thrown out to me, a person who was drowning in a cesspool of filth and sewage water, only to be just as quickly cast aside because, even though they were nice enough, relatively speaking, the guys who sent them were fifty-two years old or were self-described “fitness models” or went by the user name “Lets Fck Around.”Look, I know it isn’t easy out there for dudes, either. So guys have some pressure—they’re the ones who have to “make a move” and then just wait while my friends and I gasp and laugh and email each other the complete garbage they’ve just sent us. I am interested in the grouping and analysis of small disasters.
I would feel bad, except that the authors of the messages that provoke that kind of reaction most certainly do not give a fuck. Because they sent that same exact masturbatory-ass message to me AND two of my friends. So I’ve come up with a few categories of messages that you’re liable to receive if you find yourself being simultaneously female and in possession of an online dating profile.
May God have mercy on our souls, and may whoever invented the backhanded compliment as flirting tactic (damn you, popular MTV pickup artist Mystery!
It’s a thing you say to a woman if you are an asshole who believes that, ultimately, what women really want is for someone to be mean to them. Far be it from me to deny a lady a good blow to her self-esteem now and again, if she promises me that’s what she wants and she’s really okay and she agrees to come hang out with me later, just girls. Lo and behold, a few bravely delusional spirits soldier on.
I just feel pretty safe saying that, as a whole, humans don’t like when people are nasty to them. Sometimes it’s clear they know what they’re doing, which is the worst possible type of neg. I don’t know.) Sometimes it’s clear that they are just hapless goons. For the record, none of these messages garnered a response.
Sometimes it’s just clear that you should have joined the convent like your third-grade teacher suggested. None of these messages even garnered a half-second’s consideration of a response.
I knew, very literally, that love wasn’t going to happen overnight. We poured ourselves glasses of wine and set about describing ourselves in the best, most attractive, most unique, most intriguing ways we possibly could. Is this what guys are thinking when they list their heights as five-ten even though you know, in your heart, that they are five-seven? It didn’t matter what he looked like (or what I look like, for that matter), or if we had anything in common, or what we were even talking about. More fitting would be “trite,” “absurd,” “weirdly insulting,” and “grotesque expressions of the soul-sucking vortex known as humanity.” Some messages were innocuous enough, but these were in the minority. Less horrifying.) For some reason it seems like standard operating procedure, among those with opposite-sex interests, that GUYS message GIRLS and that is that. I am, however, interested in the betterment of humankind.
But I also knew that if I really wanted to meet someone as much as I was saying I did, I might have to step outside my Comfort Zone, which is what I call my flannel pajamas, and into the big, hopeful, scary world of Internet dating. My friend Jenna came over on a Wednesday night, because it was February first, and we decided that something like this should happen on a first day of the month. I mean, yes, technically I’m five-eleven and a half, but I’m not going to round up to six feet online, am I? I checked out the profile of the guy who’d messaged me—tall, dorky, kind of funny—and though I didn’t find him all that attractive, I impulsively decided to chat with him anyway. On the first day of online dating, that is sort of all you really need. I think I was just overwhelmed by how much it took me back to middle school, flirting (well, talking) with boys on AIM for the first time. ” Everyone was always telling me that, if nothing else, having an online dating profile would be a confidence booster because of all the flattering messages I’d receive. Of the many, many things that my messages could have been called, “flattering” is not one of them.
When a little message popped up in the bottom right-hand corner of my screen saying “Hello, tall girl,” I screamed. I say “around” because I deleted so many of them immediately (having them sit in my inbox felt contaminating) that I cannot report with scientific precision the exact count. I actually think it makes me decidedly un-special, because to many of the messages’ authors I was clearly no more than one more female-looking thing who might be intrigued by the dashing brevity of a message reading only “sup?
I had myself signed in to chat accidentally, because I didn’t even realize it was there. In a month on Ok Cupid, I received around 130 messages.