Why I Oughtaaa…

People are weird. Yes, this means you. When you strip away all the pomp and circumstance, the posing, posturing, and possessions, we’re merely animals, and we are all just making it up as we go along. No one has a fucking clue. Imposter syndrome: the struggle is real! But like it or not, we’re all in this together. Believe me, I don’t like it any better than you do.

Question: Why is the word “feminism” so polarizing? It’s basically the new N word: taboo.  It bugs people, and is therefore my new favorite play toy.

It pisses some people off even more than re-naming, which used to be my go-to.  Rename someone’s cat, dog, or child.  Persistence is key here. It’s a joke guaranteed to annoy. Experiments are fun!

Ok back to the subject: sex. Is there anything else? It’s like a lens through which we all view the world: proverbial perv goggles. Deny it all you want, but we’re all the same, no shame in the game, right?  Oh wait, you have a vagina? Welp, shit just got real. Prepare for objectification. 

Are you an alpha? Then you apparently owe the world an apology. How dare you?! Dumb it down, or else.

Sexual? Congrats, you’re officially a “slut.”

Clearly, the two are mutually exclusive. It’s one or the other. And don’t forget to consistently apologize for your own existence, all while looking flawless, obviously. And don’t you dare mention the blatant double standard. It’s not ladylike. 

Awesome, right?

“The Talk” aka that which we shall not speak of

Disclaimer: the opinions expressed in the following narrative do not necessarily represent good judgement or sound advice.  Proceed at your own risk.

Now then, I assume you’re still reading, which is reassuring to me personally, but casts you in some serious shade. Anyways…

Since I’m clearly an expert in relationships and all things interpersonal, I consider it my civic duty to share my profound knowledge and predisposition for profanity.  Think of me as a modern day yenta, a non-creepy Fiddler on the Roof type matchmaker (but smoking hot and without religious connotations), or a wise old maid / crazy cat lady (who’s slightly allergic).

There comes a time in every woman/dude’s life when somehow, some way, you met an actual living person who you LIKE like (gasp!). No porn or technology or anything!๐Ÿ˜๐Ÿ’—๐Ÿ†๐Ÿ‘๐Ÿค™๐Ÿฝ

It’s like you’ve just seen a gd unicorn! “What the F just happened?!” 

It’s kinda like accidentally eating molly, but in a romantic way, without human trafficking, and with butterfly kisses, and jazz hand flashbacks, and whatever else your bag is. It’s like you’re Baby in Dirty Dancing, or Patrick Swayze, but no one puts ya in the corner, and you def had the time of your life.๐Ÿ’—

One person eventually suggests, “Hey, I like you. Maybe we shouldn’t cheat on eachother and be exclusive?!”

Stop. Drop. Roll. 

Stop. Collaborate & Listen.

Regulators, mount up! 

Be afraid. Be very afraid! 

When confronted by a bear in the wild, make no sudden moves. Back away slowly. Because only you can prevent forest fires. Smokey knows. Good, now get out and no one gets hurt.  Slow fade the fuck outta there!

But ya like him/her?!t Told ya: shit’s about to get real. And hopefully firemen are en route ๐Ÿ™๐Ÿผ

Anyways, about that life partnership you’ve subconsciously predetermined, and are already emotionally banking on…

I know you’re super pumped and relieved that maybe it’s really not you. But reader, lemme splain you one ting: you are still your one and souly.  

Pump the brakes! This is the “Wtf just happened?!”  moment for introspection.

Once opened, you can never close pandoras box of horrors. Why ruin a perfectly good thing?! There’s no retreat, no surrender. In The Boss we trust!

Still helm bent on engaging in exclusive relationshiphood? You poor bastard! If so, here are some helpful tips. I know, you’re confused and all googly eyed. No worries, I’ll break it down for you using small words and bite sized tid bit takeaways, with a Salt Bae sprinkle of sarcasm. 

Realistic goal: resist all urges to stage 5 cling. I can not stress this enough. 

Ladies, maintain the upper hand at all times by being sexy yet standoffish. Unfortunately, men (and women) want something new. Be that new car smell. Keep it fresh! For yourself… be wild, and be kinda mean. Not to your ppl, just to your dude. Maybe counterintuitive, but you’re already out on this limb. We’ve come this far, let your sexy bitch flag fly. It’s time to channel your inner Beyoncรฉ. Actually, it’s always time for that.

Dudes, do the exact opposite. Be sensitive, attentive, and always first to apologize. Trust, this will make it easier on you in the long run. Sacrifice that faberge egg of an ego for some good sex and way less drama in the long run. You’ll thank me later.

In conclusion, when you’re considering entering the danger zone of exclusive relationships, think the opposite of Nike: just DON’T do it. Look what happened to Tiger Woods! And basically every other committed person I’ve ever met. You do you!

I’m the worst matchmaker ever! But I know you won’t listen anyway ๐Ÿ˜‰

My alter ego: Tammy, the lesbian softball playerย 

Is it normal that I constantly wish I was a lesbian? (“Not that there’s anything wrong with that!”) Reasons I’m almost official:

– work construction (will boss you around for free)

–  drive a Subaru (hybrid boxer)

– got dirtier jokes than you (try me)

– play fantasy fb (Pat’s Nation)

– surrounded by the smartest, most beautiful, funny, resilient women on earth.

Nm, maybe I’m a man…

๐Ÿ˜˜

Side note: why I need an Indian bfย 

Side note: reasons why I need an Indian bf:

– To figure out the whole IT side of this blogging thang 

– Is it me, or a faulty algorithm? 

– Chicken Tikamasala (sp?)

– I wanna wear one of those belly shirt sexy saaris with mad henna tats

– to teach me how to spell everything I just said

– bc they are probably a doctor

– help I’ve fallen and I can’t get up

– the accent rule is officially reinstated (this one’s iffy)

– I only know how to write in iPhone notes app, hence publication. 

Still, nope ๐Ÿคฆ๐Ÿผโ€โ™€๏ธ

The meat up: gluttons for punishmentย 

Back so soon? I know, the blog is spotty at best. Use your judgement ๐Ÿ˜ณ

So, back to the piranha pool of dating. Assuming your intended partner is not literally Uncle Fester, and that’s being generous, there’s undoubtedly an awkward meet up, possibly featuring a cane and/or cross eyes that were definitely not featured in the aforementioned photo spread (true stories).

First, identify said party. I know, this seems like a given. Nope! Good luck finding this schmuck 5 years later. Got em?! Good, time for small talk! Weather (Hawaii), sports (in Tom Brady we trust), food, and hopefully just enough booze to make this encounter bearable, while silently questioning heterosexuality… or maybe that’s just me. 

Ok, sub in polite nodding and strategic bathroom/permanent exit.

Again, use your judgement.

This is the inevitable point when you regret ever leaving home. Why!?

Because ‘Merica! You’re welcome.

Swiping as a Superpowerย 

Someone smart once said “start at the beginning and go from there.” No, idk who. Is my name Alexa? Google it! Now stop asking dumb questions and listen up! This is my new forum to drop some pearls of wisdom on you. Ok, maybe not wisdom per se, but some truth as I have come to know it, and hopefully/maybe some life lessons, sprinkled with hilarious hijinks and generally offensive fun. Perhaps my insights (aka drug enduced ramblings and recountings of poor life choices), will spare you from suffering a similar fate. But, honestly, I doubt it, what with the multitude of unhinged assholes roaming this planet.
Maybe, through my shared time experiences, you’ll become wiser and learn some real important moral lessons. Again, doubtful, but here goes nothing…
Still reading then? Good, that means you’re my kind of people: nuts. If you’re not outright nuts, then you’re probably just straight up boring, or just really good at hiding your crazy, and nobody likes a sneak, so just own it already!
Okay, good. Now can we all just get over ourselves, get cozy, and get ready to hear a little story that I like to call “WTF Bro?!… and other thoughts.”
I’ll be your narrator through this misguided tour de force. Think of me as old Gran Beasy, tucking you in tight with a nice bedtime story. Except I’m like way hotter. And younger. With amazing boobs…

Ew, stop perving on your granny!
Let’s just say I’m a super sexy protagonist (and some times villainess) making my way through this lascivious labyrinth of life. And, maybe that’s being generous, but it’s my blog, so deal with it.
What’s inspired me to mount this virtual soap box is the laughable, hatable, unbelievable reality, or virtual reality, that has somehow become my life. As a 32 year old single white female (yes, exactly like a modern day Bridget Fonda, but hotter) living in America in 2016, I’m dumbfounded on a daily basis. Yes, it could be from all the weed, but hear me out (and stop interrupting, or else!)
For the sake of expediency (and bc it’s just too gd depressing and awful), for now, let’s just set aside the current state of American politics / reality TV, the military-industrial machine, the suffering of innocent unfortunates & political refugees, global warming, and even the Brangelina breakup, just to focus on the one issue that’s most pertinent to me and many of my similarly privileged cohorts: online dating.
Nowadays, apps like Tinder, Bumble, Grinder, Match, etc have revolutionized the dating scene and how singles interact with each other. Gone are the days of coy flirting, well-mannered courting, and even conventional phone conversations. The marvels of modern technology now spare us all that pesky personal interaction, in favor of superficial swiping. It’s immediate gratification, anytime, anywhere, right on your cell phone. And personally, I’m not only complicit, I’m a full-on culprit. I’m not only a client, I’m the player president. (ref. B.I.G.)
But c’mon, I’m a product of our society right? So it’s actually your fault, too, if you really think about it. Just let that one sink in while I describe for you (in graphic detail) the horror that is today’s singles’ scene. The following narrative may not be suitable for all audiences. Reader discretion advised.
Still there? Obviously. Undoubtedly, more interested post-disclaimer, ya degenerates! I should know…
Now, let’s take a little stroll down Tinder lane, and take a gander at the virtual population, who are clearly single for good reason (myself included). Anyone can play. It’s free and fun for all ages! Just make an account and swipe away! Ready? Begin.
First and foremost: photos. For women, this means: duck face, kiss face, lots of boobs, yoga poses, butts, more boobs, enough makeup to contour your duck face beyond recognition, liberal photoshopping, and a plethora of overtly sexual pics that are borderline slutty. But heyyy, we have a strict No Slut Shaming policy on this blog, and sex sells, right? You know you like it! The people demand it. In fact, Tinder will actually optimize your profile for you to select the most desirable main photo, and it’s never the one of your dog. Ain’t love grand?!
For men, photos typically include: ambiguous group shots (which one are you?!), shirtless bathroom selfies (oftentimes with unfortunate tattoos), and, of course, the obligatory tiger pic (because you just haven’t lived until you’ve posed with a captive endangered species!). These staples may be accented with: handstands in unexpected places (deep!), guy shooting gun (bc ‘Merica!), generic memes (bc inspirational quotes have clearly worked for you thus far), and/or random landscapes (look away!). This is all dependent on the ratio of cockiness over dadbod.

*Footnote: you may be familiar with the hot/crazy ratio commonly referenced with regard to female rankings. Likewise, the cocky/dadbod ratio is a proven indicator of male fortitude. Sorry, but you can’t deny science… or can you? I digress…

Anyway, once a user has set up their profile with plenty of outdated, misleading, and presumably flattering photos to optimize their appearance and sex appeal (read: spinning a pictorial web of lies), it’s time for the tricky part: writing the profile. Yes, as in using our words. Mind=blown.
For the more fortunate users whose heads have not exploded at this point, it’s your time to shine! There are several popular options:
1. The ‘humble’ brag- It’s the Old Faithful of online dating. This is your go-to, your bread and butter. Think Man of the Year meets Spider-Man (or sex kitten meets girl next door). You’re basically the Dos Equis Most Interesting Man/Woman in the World, but way hotter (duh!), and hopefully without the mustache and the implied Mexican heritage.

It starts (and ends) with blatant self-promotion: “never married” (shocker!), “no kids” (thankfully), “have a job, my own place, and a car” (go you, adulting and everything!). Then, be sure to suddenly switch verb tenses and include a list of action words: “lifting, running, jumping, climbing, riding, eating, drinking, breathing, surfing, blinking, foosball, & being fuckin awesome!” Always say you love travel and adventure, since you’re clearly looking for a “partner in crime” and definitely “not looking for a hook up,” since you’re so above it all. “When I’m not jet-setting to 87 countries and counting, I’m mindlessly swiping through strangers’ profiles on my phone (and probably holding up the line at Starbucks)… Living the dream!”

Guys, insert height here IF and ONLY if over 6′. This is the most critical information, and basically your only defining characteristic.

Also, be sure to mention either pizza or tacos (bc who doesn’t love tacos?!). Work it in. Finish strong with your IG and/or snapchat handle. #winning
2. Too stupid for all that word writing and effort?! Go the all-emoji route. Because nothing says “I’m a catch” like a tiny cartoon baseball! Feeling extra confident? Go big with the eggplant or peach emoji! Here’s some tried & true combos. For the ladies: ๐Ÿ’‹๐ŸŒธ๐Ÿธ๐Ÿ’ƒ๐Ÿป๐Ÿค๐Ÿ’…๐Ÿ’๐Ÿผโ“๐Ÿ›๐Ÿ’ธ๐Ÿ’•๐Ÿท๐Ÿ‘

For the bros: ๐Ÿป๐Ÿˆ๐Ÿ„๐ŸŽฃโ›ท๐ŸŽฑ๐Ÿ•โšฝ๏ธ๐ŸŽพ๐Ÿ’ฐโšพ๏ธ๐ŸŒฎ๐Ÿ๐Ÿ†

Because reading is for losers! #prettypictures
3. Feeling a little daring? Go rogue and all tough guy / too cool for Tinder: “If you wanna know, just ask.” It’s basically the Fonzi of profiles, for when you just can’t be bothered, and your mystery is only exceeded by your power. #zerofucksgiven
As a general rule (this means you), if there are any children in your pics (vom) be sure to clarify “not my kid.”
Exes in your photos? That’s your “sister/brother.”
Group shot? You better be the hottest one in it (no exceptions).
These are the rules of online dating, as I see them. You shall abide by them, or suffer the consequences (how’s that working out for ya?!)
More to come, including but not limited to: messaging, the meet up, the Do’s and Don’ts of D pics (hint: it’s all Don’ts), and ‘Wtf just happened?!’
Happy Swiping!