It’s twenty fifteen and the man of my dreams is officially piled underneath about ten thousand of Orange County’s laziest jerks. Besides time, I lose track of expectations while I sift through sex-a-holics and alch-o-holics, not just online, but in-life.  Us hopeless romantics, are now just hopeless. Since when did we stop holding doors for each other? At what point did flowers become a holiday specific gesture? Why are you more concerned with my dress than my degree? I can’t tell you the last time a man called me on the phone to ask me on a date. Romance my friends is a dying art form. Apparently telling me what bar you’re at with your friends and then proposing I ‘run into you with my friends’ is how you’re going to sweep me off my feet. The only thing we’re sweeping, are all these issues…right under the rug.

“So, we gonna do this?”  he texts me.

Do what? Are we robbing a bank? Do I need to join a witness protection program? What he’s trying to ask me is if I want to be seen with him in public, like…on a date. What I hear is, let’s kill some time while I peruse the other five thousand options I have in this town. The sad part is, about half of us will sleep with this charmer. There’s nothing awe-inspiring about insinuating that a meal time rendezvous with me is a chore. In fact, I know what I bring to the table, and I’d rather eat alone.

The follow up is simple. Introduce yourself, establish an interest, connect with a phone number, ask her out, engage, ask her out again, then ask her out again, then ask her out fifty thousand more times. That’s how this works. There’s never supposed to be a break in the routine. Date her ’til she’s ashes in an urn. Instead, I get an introduction, an established interest and then expectations that are far beyond the norm. INFURIATION. What in the fuck happened between you seeing me at the bar, liking what you saw and me giving you my number? Did your biological clock go off? Are your balls going to explode? Do I look that easy?

Originally, I thought men didn’t know what to do with their hands…mind…heart anymore.  Some guys are handed a beautifully wrapped gift of a woman and I watch them crash and burn as they speak to us mindlessly.

“What kind of trouble you lookin’ for tonight? Wanna do something hands on?”

Wait what? Unless we are recreating the scene from Ghost where we make a sick vase out of some clay, I think most of us would prefer to be hands off for the evening. Or so I thought. When I jokingly ask how well these tactics work, guys tell me more often than not, women are very responsive to their appalling advances.

Bingo. We’ve found the culprit.


For some god awful reason, the internet has provided women with a platform to put the nail in the slut coffin. Someone’s not getting enough attention at home so she’s hiding behind an online profile training my would-have-been-soul-mate to think with the wrong head. He asks her how her day’s been, and she replies with a pouty face selfie angled perfectly at her cleavage. He wants to know why she’s so sad, she tells him she’d be happier if he came over. Thanks a lot lady, now Joe-Shmo thinks it’s appropriate for two people to meet for the first time at a house, with zero effort put in on his part. If he can catch a lady like this, he’s done fishing with quality bait.

In walks me. Passionate, professional, poised. Pissed the fuck off, because “Joe” (as we will call him) has approached me with no bait, not even a wink: “Wanna go back to your house?” What makes you think I want you to go back to my house? Oh right, D.I.ana “Daddy Issues-Ana” hit your inbox yesterday and now you’re god’s gift to the female population. I can’t even be upset at the lost puppy dog. Someone trained him this way, and she and I probably went to high school together.

I write a lot about all the things men can do differently in this game of love. When the reality of it is, it takes two to tango. I took my devil horns off in my early twenties because I knew that having respect for myself would attract a man with the same. Us women have a responsibility to the women who may come next to teach men how to treat a lady. Making it too easy was the worst thing we could have done for future generations. The scaled-back approach has destroyed what was left of courting because miss low self-esteem let him walk right over her and into her bed. Do me a solid ladies, next time you’re looking for an ego boost, stay away from men all together. Call me, I’ll tell you how pretty you look. You’ll have your dignity, and I’ll get a real shot at finding a husband.

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