How to Cook Dinner For Your Date in 25 EASY Steps


Don’t let this happen to you.

As we’ve said many times, you should not/must not/can not go to dinner on a first internet date. It’s expensive, takes too long, and locks you in for an hour with someone you might want to murder before the Bloomin Onion arrives. (Also: don’t go anywhere they serve food that’s “Bloomin.” Never trust a missing “g.”) In fact, there’s only one idea worse idea than dining out, and that, of course, is cooking in.

Let’s be honest, you’re not a good cook. Your friends say you are, but they’re probably just being nice. I mean look, they let you wear that shirt to work today without saying a damn thing, so how can they be trusted? OK, I guess it’s possible you’re good in the kitchen, but do you really want to take that chance on a first date, or an early date of any kind? You’ve gotta invite a stranger over to your house, a move that has Jeffrey Dahmer written all over it, then deal with the stress of not ruining the food. And having enough to talk about. And not ruining the food. I’m not sure how long I’d wait for a home-cooked dinner date, but I will say this: it’s longer than you wait for sex. If sex is date 3, then dinner is date 33. BJs before Beef Bourguignon, I always say. Well, I don’t, but I’d really like to.

There will come a time however when every man must cook for his woman. You’ll go out to dinner several times, then she’ll probably cook for you once or twice, then it will come time for you to return the favor. This is a right of passage, a thing you must do, and a thing you almost certainly screw up. Which is why, loyal reader, I am here to guide you. Because believe me, I’ve already screwed up so many more things than you have

So here now is a guide to cooking dinner for your date, in a mere 25 steps.

Always an option.

Always an option.

1. Do everything you can to convince your date not to let you cook dinner. “Hey, I hear Applebee’s is doing some really interesting things lately!” or “I wonder how many Flaming Cheetos it takes to constitute a whole meal?” and “My oven was stolen by a robber” are phrases you should consider.

2. Do not say “I really can’t cook.” She’ll just think you’re being a guy, and that obviously you can cook one or two things. Say, “I burned a girl once in a fire.” When she asks how, say only, “Pork chops.” She’ll laugh, but at least you tried to explain your shortcomings in advance. Remember that for later when she starts to yell.

3. When she says, “Come on. It’ll be fun. I’ll like it no matter how it tastes, because you made it,” handle it with aplomb. Reply “OK, no problem, honey. I’ll whip something up no problem.” with confidence and panache.

4. Cry.

5. Consider your go-to recipes. Realize that a spoonful of peanut butter on top of a peeled banana is more of a breakfast thing, and that tuna fish sandwiched between two thin slices of pickle Stackers is more of a eat alone in the dark then immediately wash your entire body thing.

6. Cry again.

cry7. Check your freezer. Certainly there’s something to eat in there. Hmmm. Strawberry Fruit Bars and ice. Google “Dinner recipes with ice as main ingredient.” When autofill completes the sentence for you, realize that means you’ve searched for this exact phrase before. Take stock in your life and consider making some serious changes.

8. Make no serious changes.

9. Turn on The Food Network for inspiration. As Ina Garten introduces Chicken with 40 Cloves of Garlic, start to feel a swell of confidence. You can make that. It’s just chicken and a bunch of garlic. How easy is that?

10. Watch the show for more than 90 seconds and realize there’s actually a bunch more ingredients required. Begin to feel depressed. Yell, “What sort of a name is Ina anyway?!” at no one in particular, then eat a room temperature Pop Tart. Obviously it’s going to be a while before dinner is served, and you’ll need your energy.

11. Take a nap. You’ve earned it.

12. Call your mom and ask what you should do. Leave a voicemail even though she has no idea how to check her voicemail.

13. Look at pictures of food on friends’ Instagram accounts for inspiration. Realize that is only making you hungry, and eat another Pop Tart.

14. When your date texts to ask how dinner is coming, don’t respond. That’s what a true chef would do in the midst of battle. As far as you know. Also, you’re afraid that if you respond you may start crying a third time and you don’t want the neighbors to worry. Well, worry more than they already do.

Fuck you.

Fuck you.

15. Accuse your cat of holding out on you. You’ve seen Ratatouille, if that friggin’ cartoon rat could cook, so can kitty. Discontinue your interrogation when she begins to lick her own butt.

16. Remember that in college, a friend’s mom told you that the easiest way to make a real dinner is to buy chicken breast and salad dressing and put it all in a ziploc bag overnight. It’s 5pm, so overnight is out of the question, but you are nothing if not cool under pressure.

17. Go to the grocery store and see that every register has a line five customers deep. Ask “What are all these idiots doing here?” aloud. Be surprised when an old lady next to you says, “Buying dinner, you idiot.” Promptly leave the store.

18. Mutter “Fucking old ladies” under breath as you walk to the car.

19. Pull into 7-11, with 30 minutes until your date is due to arrive. The good news is, there’s no line. The bad news is they don’t sell chicken breast or salad dressing. Pick up some turkey slices and Cool Ranch Doritos instead. That’s basically the same thing, right?

20. Arrive home and combine your two ingredients in a dish you’ve dubbed Crushed Ranch Turkito Explosion. Take one bite and spit it out into the sink.

21. Consider which restaurant you can order takeout from that will be good enough that your girlfriend will want to eat it, but bad enough that it’s at all plausible you made it. Consider getting food from the italian place and putting pickle Stackers in it, as that’s something you’d actually do. You know, what? Screw it. Just do that.

22. When your date arrives, dish out the pasta and say “Voila!” without laughing.

23. Be relieved beyond words when she pulls out a bag of chinese food and says “Thank you for trying, but I brought real food!” Wonder how you met such an awesome girl online. Give her a kiss.

24. Eat the chinese food and promise that next week you’ll cook for real.

25. Repeat.

Posted in Advice, Internet Dating is Weird | 4 Comments

How is This My Match: Anal Sex Edition

"Damn it, why isn't Brian picking up?!"

“Damn it, why isn’t Brian picking up?!”

You know that feeling you have when you’re separated from your cellphone for an extended period of time? Like, maybe the battery dies and you don’t have your charger, or you leave for work in the morning and accidentally leave it sitting on the kitchen counter? You notice it’s missing and instantly you’re terrified. “Oh my God. What if important people call? I’m gonna miss them. There are probably super important people calling me right now and I can’t answer! Sure, I could check my messages remotely, or… a more technologically advanced version of myself could check them remotely, but what about texts?! There’s no way to check texts! There could be a text-based emergency right now and I’ll never know! I just hope nobody’s dying. I’m so sorry, Mom. If you’re dying and I’m missing your call, I’ll say something really nice at your funeral. And I’ll never forget my phone again. I promise!” And then you get home, run to your telephone and find… zero messages. No voicemails, no texts, not even a pathetic little missed call. You’d kill for a missed call, even if it was just a reminder to pick up your dry cleaning. That’s what it’s like when you leave online dating for a while. You take a break from Match or OkCupid for one reason or another, and think in the back of your mind, “I bet some pretty amazing people are checking me out.” I mean, you’ve been gone so long, there must be a whole slew of knockouts, just waiting breathlessly for your grand reentry. Right? Riiiight? And then you sign back in, and, well…not so much.

As I am currently with girlfriend, I haven’t logged in to any dating site in quite a while. In fact, before this week, I hadn’t checked out a single profile all year. And you have no idea how many years it’s been since I’ve been able to say that. Sorry, did I say years? I meant centuries. I literally think it was last century. So when I popped onto OkCupid yesterday to see if it had any interesting matches for me, in the back of my mind I thought there might be a gem or two hiding out. Don’t get me wrong, my girlfriend’s great. I have no interest in anyone else, but just like that cellphone you leave sitting in your apartment, you imagine there’s an action-packed world out there that has noticed your absence. And that is what I thought when I clicked on this fine young lady that OkCupid had selected for me since I last checked in.




34 year-old woman

seeking men 25-58

Not bad. You can’t tell due to my expert photo editing, but she’s actually quite cute. And she lives in Los Angeles and is in my desired age rage. That’s a pretty remarkable trifecta, considering some of the women OkCupid has tried to set me up with in the past. So I read on…

SELF SUMMARY: I am lola , a fun loving outgoing girl! I love to travel a lot so I frequently go to places in Arizona, Texas and of course Vegas to visit friends and shit!

Alrighty, not sure we really needed the “and shit” in there, but hey, she’s just expressing enthusiasm, right? I get that. I’m enthusiastic about things. I mean, I’m not, but I understand the notion. And I love Vegas, so let’s see what else Lola has to say.

I’M REALLY GOOD AT: Doing nothing! lazy bitch iam! guys do everything for me plz!:)

Hmmm. OK. Not ideal. But maybe she’s making a joke. That’s what the smiley face thingy means, right? That she knows she’s making a ridiculous joke and that it’s obviously quite off-putting to call yourself a lazy bitch even in jest on a dating site. Yes. I’m confident in that. Just a joke!

THE SIX THINGS I COULD NEVER DO WITHOUT: my kids, sex, music, parties, shops, my dog, $$$$$$$$$$$$$$

That’s only 14 dollar signs, because 15 might seem shallow. And good news, Lola’s kids, you beat out sex on the list of things your mom can’t do without! And you’re a whole five places ahead of the dog. Huzzah!


Uh oh.

THE MOST PRIVATE THING I’M WILLING TO ADMIT: love anal sex. Pain and calling name.

Double uh oh. Not sure what calling name is, but judging by the context it can’t be good.

YOU SHOULD MESSAGE ME IF: I’m just looking for something casual (only anal) on the side.

Nothing says casual like...

Nothing says casual like…

Now wait a second. You’re just looking for something casual, ONLY ANAL, on the side?! How, pray tell, does one have casual sex in the rear end? Isn’t a penis in your rectum like the definition of not casual? “Oh you know, just hanging around, throwing on some sweatpants, watching a little House Hunters, I don’t know, maybe later I’ll toss a dick up my butt. You know, just a casual evening at home.” Who is looking for only casual anal sex? That’s like looking for only vegetarian cheeseburgers. It’s kinda antithetical, is it not? I haven’t had a lot of anal sex, but my understanding is it’s a pretty rigid, premeditated experience. I mean, you need lube, cleanliness, a certain degree of personal comfort, 911 on speed dial. That’s about as casual as a Dexter murder scene. And is this really a necessary warning to hand out before you’ve even started conversing? I’m sorry, I’m only looking for something casual and relaxed right now. You know, dicks in butts only. So don’t come at me with all your vagina and relationship-related desires. I’ve got a dog, shopping, money, oh, and kids to focus on, so all I really have time for is anal. Gotta run!

And never have I been happier to have met my girlfriend. Because I never look at her and say… How is This My Match?!

Posted in How is This My Match? | 10 Comments

Meeting in a Bar vs. Meeting Online: The Ultimate Showdown

Romantic Genius

Romantic Genius

A group of psychologists recently released a study that says meeting a date in a bar can be far more effective than encountering someone online. Which is great news, because it clearly means we’ve cured all mental illness, otherwise why would shrinks be wasting time on something so utterly frivolous, right? Wait. We haven’t cured all mental illness? And people are still scared of going outside, or the number 13, or flying on an airplane without their assistance animal who happens to be a duck named Fred? Well that seems like a poor use of resources. ANYWAY, their main argument is that internet dating can be too overwhelming, and there’s no evidence that the algorithms designed to match daters actually work. Which they could’ve found out by reading this website for maximum 15 minutes. 10, if they skipped right to How is This My Match?

Obviously this is an issue I’ve thought a lot about, as I have both a website about internet dating and a tremendous amount of free time. Is bar meeting really better than doing it on the world wide web? Sure, you get a better sense of a person when you’re face to face at the pub, but you’re also required to put on clean clothes, and, depending on local health codes, leave your duck Fred at home. So let’s break it all down. Is it better to find love online or on tap?

The Chemistry Test: We’ve all been there. You have an email exchange that’s as if you’re talking to your twin. Well, your twin with boobs. Every joke is on point, you share a disturbing amount of mutual interests, even the timing of the emails is perfect. You sign on to Match and BOOM, a note has just arrived from TwinWithSweetRack45, neither too soon to be creepy, nor too late to make you worry she’s lost interest. Or, you know, died. You’re so sure the first date is going to be a home run that you’re already considering what you’ll plan for date #2, and if you should wear one of your three pairs of presentable underwear. (I’d kill for three pairs of presentable underwear.) Then you meet in person and HOLY CHRIST were you wrong about everything. No chemistry, no attraction, no physical certainty that the person you’re talking to is actually even a human being. How does this happen? Was someone else writing their emails? No. That would be too logical. What happened is…the internet. It’s like that line from Chinatown. Forget it Jake, it’s This sort of confusion doesn’t happen in a bar. If you click, you click. So, if chemistry is what you seek…

The Winner Is: Bar

Hands off, she's mine.

Hands off, she’s mine.

The Time Test: I once spent an entire evening chatting up a girl who worked in the coat room of a swanky SoHo bar. I know, I’m as surprised about it as you are. It takes a lot of effort to flirt with the coat room girl, mostly because there’s no organic way for you to be spending that much time hanging around a bunch of jackets. “Yeah, hey, I just wanted to check if my blazer was doing OK. Sometimes it gets lonely.” But I did it. Standing there in front of that weird dutch door thingy, dropping every bit of charm and wit I had swimming in my extremely shallow reservoir of charm and wit. But shockingly, Coat Girl seemed to be a big fan. So big, in fact, that when I asked for her phone number, she readily handed it over. I know, I’m as surprised about it as you are. And although the phone number she gave me turned out to be 100% fake, it did connect me to a very nice gentleman named Alan who wondered if I was calling about the lost cat he’d found. “No, Alan, I am not. But if you happen to locate my dignity, do you think you could give me a ring at your first convenience?” Coat Girl had wasted an evening of my time, simply because that was easier than saying she wasn’t interested. Online, she just would’ve deleted my email and we both could’ve moved on with our lives. Of course, I never would’ve met Alan, but I’m willing to take that loss. So…

Winner: Internet

Pants Test: To meet someone in a bar, you are required to wear pants. Sitting in your living room, you are required to wear nothing at all.

Winner: Internet

They're not laughing with you.

They’re not laughing with you.

Terror Test: I don’t know if women can ever fully understand how terrifying it is to walk up to a lady or, heaven forbid, a group of ladies in a crowded bar. Every worst case scenario starts running through your head. “What if I have nothing to say?!” “What if she laughs at me?!” “What if I start vomiting uncontrollably?!” To the doctors who said internet dating is overwhelming: I challenge you to approach a group of women and try to win one of them over, with the rest of her friends watching, and not pee in your pants just a little bit. Online, no pee. Your worst fear is a rude response. Once a lady responded to my patented Not a Form Letter Form Letter with “Please. Do you send that lame-ass email out to everyone?” Which hurt. But again, I was in my house, not wearing any pants. How bad could it possibly have been?

Winner: Internet

Excitement Test: At the same time, when you do it off with someone in a bar, and there’s chemistry and real phone numbers and the potential of makeouts, well, there’s no better feeling in the world. Pulling off the same thing online is great, but it takes a week or two of emailing, meeting, and not acting like a jackass. Meeting someone great online is like a fine, aged wine. You gotta let it breath. Meeting at a bar is like crack. And who doesn’t love crack?

Winner: Bar (and crack)

Algorithm Test: The shrinks were right, the algorithms that dating sites use to match up their members don’t work. But it’s hard for me to get all that upset about that, as I don’t really understand what an algorithm is.

Winner: People Who Paid Attention in Math Class

The Future Test: 30 years down the line, do you really want to tell your kids you met on a computer? Some people worry about these things. Not me.

Winner: If you meet someone you’re with 30 years later, do you really care where it happened.

By my tally, that makes internet dating the winner. But come on, the site’s not called It’s Not a, so what did you expect? What say you: do you still believe in dating online, or are you back to buying drinks and hoping for the best?

Posted in Advice, How is This My Match?, Internet Dating is Weird | 11 Comments

You Know What’s a Good Idea? Condoms. Especially with Internet Dates. Seriously…

Another satisfied customer

It’s always a fascinating experience, having sex with someone new. There may be things you’ve done with others that they don’t like at all. Or approaches you’ve never even considered that they can’t live without. Then of course there’s all those things that make them laugh out loud and ask if you’ve done this before. That happens to you guys too, right? But probably the most important lesson I’ve ever learned during sex is that the person I’m sleeping with is totally fucking insane.

Of course, me being me, this has happened a fair amount of times. You’ve heard of people putting notches in their bedpost? Well I put mine on the side of a bottle of antidepressants. That’s how nuts they are. Usually you have an inkling before you hit the bedroom that you’re with someone who’s a little crackers, but you let that pass because they have boobs and there is the outside chance that they will let you see them. This however was not the case with young Maggie Sanger. Maggie was a very cool girl, and had that rarest of very cool girl traits: she was a huge football fan. Shoulda known it was too good to be true.

The sex life with Maggie was surprisingly good, considering the large role I played in it. We slept with each after only a few dates – something I have since learned is a great way to never sleep with someone again, but in this case it worked out. Pretty soon we fell into a nice routine, hanging out a few times a week, sleeping together, not pointing out the obvious flaws in my approach…it was like a dream come true. Honestly, it was the most productive sexual relationship I’d had to that point that didn’t involve the letters h-t-t-p. Until she uttered that one dangerous little phrase:

Maggie: Maybe…um, do you not wanna use a condom this time?

My usual reaction to such a suggestion can be summed up thusly…

As long as there’s established monogamy, clean bills of health, and a whole hell of a lot of birth control pills, yes, I can be interested in maybe not using a condom this time. There was, however, a slight hitch in that holy trinity: birth control. Maggie, you see didn’t take The Pill, because it made her feel bloated. Whenever she said that, I liked to remind her that nothing makes a person feel bloated faster than a baby growing in their stomach, but she didn’t listen. Or laugh. Or refrain from looking at me like I’m anything other than an asshole, which I suppose was fair. But no pills meant plenty of condoms, 24-7. Even when we were just kissing. Can’t be too careful.

Maggie though, had decided to take a new approach. We had been talking about her getting birth control for a little while, and unbeknownst to me, she acquired The Pill a couple of weeks previous. She felt ready to go unprotected, and now with the trinity complete, so did I. Cue the Kool and The Gang…

We woke up the next morning happy as two clams who liked having clam sex with each other. I looked over at Maggie and smiled and gave her a big hug. A nice, trusting relationship with a great girl. Thanks, Internet. “Good morning,” I said. “You know I haven’t actually started taking the pill yet,” she replied. What? WHAT?! My reaction to this development?

Maggie insisted that this was all a perfectly innocent misunderstanding. All she said last night was that she had gotten the birth control pills, she never said anything about actually taking them. I pointed out, in my most controlled and understanding yelling voice, that if you say you’ve got birth control pills right before you suggest unprotected sex, I’m not gonna think you’ve only got them IN YOUR POCKET. Luckily, thankfully, sweet God in heavenly, we were too tired the night before to get into any particularly dangerous activity. (What can I say, I get sleepy early.) But when I asked what was her plan if we had, that was when she dropped the biggest doozy of all. “I don’t know, I mean, I don’t believe in abortion.”

I am going to beat the living shit out of Kool and his Gang.

This is what I get for dating a girl who liked football. Maggie loved football, you see, because she was from Texas. Everybody in Texas loves football. They also happen to love Catholicism, and might not be as into a panicked “what the fuck do you mean you didn’t actually TAKE the birth control pills” abortion as us yanks from up north.

Do not mess — or have sex — with Texas

When I suggested, again, in a totally level-headed yell, that young Margaret Sanger might have mentioned her views on pregnancy retention before she tried to lure me into unprotected sex, she looked at me again like an asshole. Which at that point was perfectly fine with me, as long as I was just an asshole and not an asshole FATHER. When I added that I can’t sleep with someone I don’t trust, her expression did not change. We yelled at each other a bunch, she made it clear she didn’t care for my allegations, and I ran out of her apartment before she had a chance to get at any more of my reproductive organs.

I find it can be tough to come back from allegations of semen stealing and forced parenthood. I mean, doesn’t really have a bouquet picked out for that. And if they did, I certainly wouldn’t have been the one buying. We treaded water for another week or two, but it was clear that Maggie and I now kinda hated each other. Which is supposed to happen after you have the kid, not before.

Oh well, just another notch in the Lexapro bottle.

Posted in Horror Stories | 7 Comments

Why Are All These Men Posing with Monkeys?!

Loyal readers (which better fucking describe all of you pricks) will remember a scorching expose we did last spring about the bizarre trend of women posting profiles pics of themselves wearing mustaches. OK, you probably don’t remember it. I mean, come on, it’s a dating blog for god sakes. But still, here it is, if you’d like to go back and have your mind blown all over again. Basically, I discovered that countless ladies found it humorous and appealing to throw on some fake facial hair, smile, and post it on


What can I say? I’m like Woodward and Bernstein, but more important. The photos stuck in my craw because clearly they’re an attempt at whimsy and wackiness, but when everyone else is doing the same thing, it gets a lot less wacky pretty damn fast. (And also because I have a particularly sticky craw. I’m having it looked at next week.) But what I’ve discovered today puts the mustaches to shame. This time, it’s all dudes…and their monkeys.Screen Shot 2013-02-02 at 12.19.27 AM

Screen Shot 2013-02-02 at 12.43.08 AM Screen Shot 2013-02-02 at 12.43.19 AM Screen Shot 2013-02-02 at 12.45.50 AM Screen Shot 2013-02-02 at 12.46.01 AM Screen Shot 2013-02-02 at 12.51.49 AM Screen Shot 2013-02-25 at 4.32.57 PM

Alright, what the hell is going on? That’s seven different men with seven different monkeys! And I didn’t find a single one myself. All of these pictures came from my legion of It’s Not a Match operatives (i.e. friends with too much free time), who would periodically email me and ask, “So, what’s the deal with guys and pictures of their monkey?” Obviously I assumed this was a euphemism, and apologized for whatever photos I might have sent late the previous evening, but then the evidence started streaming in. Men, for some reason, have decided that the way to a hook a woman is to post a picture of themselves fondling a primate. Weird.

Look, women in mustaches makes a certain degree of sense. Mustaches are objectively funny (sorry, Dad), and so women ‘staching it up is a fun little twist, I guess. No, it’s not the most original thing in the world, but I’ll take it over the omnipresent duck face any day. But guys with monkeys? Why? And how? Where are they finding all the monkeys? Is there a place I can go and give someone five bucks to put a monkey on my shoulder? Because I totally will. Hell, I’d even take a cat dressed up like a monkey. In fact, I’d probably prefer it. I tried to put my cat on my shoulder once and she gave me the finger. Right there, with her sweet little paw. Physically impressive, sure, but still insulting.

a.baa-Funny-monkey-with-girlAt first I just thought this was random coincidence, but I don’t know, seven guys with monkeys sounds like a legitimate trend to me. After careful consideration, I have come up with a list. Here now are all the possible reasons a guy would think it’s a good idea to post a monkey picture in his dating profile.

1) To prove they are not afraid of monkeys tearing their face off. Which they totally should be, because monkeys tear people’s faces off.

2) Tired of just simply repeating the classic profile aphorism, “I love to travel,” they’ve decided to take things up a notch by showing physical evidence of them in other countries. I mean, there’s something about close proximity to monkeys that just screams “exotic foreign locale,” right? Except the guy in the museum. That’s just some weirdo who’s into taxidermy.

3) They think it would be too obvious to post a picture of them cuddling with puppies.

4) If no women fall for him, he still has a decent shot at meeting a really technologically advanced monkey.

5) In a side by side comparison, it’s hard to not look more attractive than a monkey.

6) It’s better than a picture with their ex. Unless, wait…could the monkey be their ex?!

So what do you think? Have you seen monkey pictures on your internet dating travels? Do they sweep you off your feet? And, most importantly, have you seen an even weirder photo trend? Like.. say, men with koalas?

Screen Shot 2013-02-28 at 11.22.49 PM

That would just be outstanding…

Posted in Internet Dating is Weird | 18 Comments

Your Awful Stories: Three Tales of Assholes

An example of an asshole.

An example of an asshole.

There are myriad ways that men can act like assholes on an internet date. They can call you the wrong name, ditch you for a clearly fake emergency, or just maybe just barf all over the place. Hell, there are myriad ways that I’ve acted like an asshole on an internet date. One time when I was kissing a girl hello, I leaned in with such excessive enthusiasm that we banged cheekbones, and she said, with no small anger in her voice: “God! That really hurt!” OK, maybe that was more “ass” than “asshole,” but it was so profoundly lame that it certainly warrants the four additional letters.

Today I’m gonna do something I haven’t in a while, and that’s feature letters from you readers. I’ve been holding off because I only like to do it when they’re some serious doozies, and this batch certainly qualifies. All of these are messages from women detailing the idiocy, incompetence and general insanity that is the male internet dater. This is not say that all us guys are buffoons, some of us handle things just fine. I imagine. I really wouldn’t know. I’m pretty much 100% buffoon.


First, this month’s bronze medal winner, from Allie K. in Toronto, Ontario…

I’m sending you this ridiculous message from okcupid that this scary, scary individual sent me a couple of weeks ago. Here goes…

“hey whats up? you definitely seem ambitious and willing to take risks and now days its really hard to find that in a woman…well let me tell you about myself…i went to school at university of new mexico, where i graduated with bachelors of science in chemistry and biology…my parents moved down to Canada in february, so when i graduated i went and visited them…over the break my mom fell ill, they found a lump near her breast and thought it was breast cancer, but after the proper tests , they removed the lump and it wasnt anything serious…than a week or two later, we found out that her uterus had fibroids, so we opted for a hysterectomy, and during surgery they a 3lb tumor hidden behind her uterus. talk about a miracle story! ive been going back and forth from the states and canada…still trying to decide what is a better option for me…im not a guy who looks for sympathy, because sympathy is for the weak…i consider myself a beast, and it suits me well…

Rarely seen on a Valentine's Day card...

Rarely seen on a Valentine’s Day card…

Little tip, fellahs. If you’re ever wondering whether it’s appropriate to use the words “fibroid,” “hysterectomy,” or “three-pound tumor hidden behind her uterus” in an OkCupid email, the answer is no. It’s not appropriate. Look, I don’t mean to make fun, obviously the guy has been through a lot, but introductory dating emails are supposed to be fun, witty, and charming. And your mom’s gigantic tumor is none of these things. No one has ever said the sentence, “Hey, let me tell you this hilarious story about the cancer in my mom’s uterus!” OK, go ahead and insist that you’re not looking for sympathy, but 1) I don’t believe you, and 2) why the hell else would you possibly be telling this story?! Trust me dude, go with sympathy! It’s the only thing that makes sense!


The silver medal email from Ann C. in Dallas, Texas.

“Matt” had very cute pictures and was a real southern boy, something I always find endearing. Self described as athletic and toned, after several emails we decided to meet at 9pm drink or two. We meet, and first warning sign: he was not athletic and toned. I don’t mind a few extra pounds, we all have them, but he was about 50-75 pounds more than his photos. Oh well, I thought, maybe he has an awesome personality….

So we grab a table and Matt proceeds to order dinner, and insists I do as well. I explained we made the date at 9, and I had already eaten earlier at work. He asks I at least get an “App,” so he doesn’t have to eat alone. [Editor’s Note: You know what you should do when you’re uncomfortable about eating alone? NOT EAT.] Anyway, I agree, and order a salad despite not being hungry. Matt orders himself two dinners: a large fish dinner and a chicken meal. I now realize why he no longer looks like his pictures. He begins to eat, and I finish about half my salad. He orders 3 more drinks… not for me, for himself.  The waitress comes over, and asks if I would like the salad wrapped up. I say no thanks, but Matt jumps in. “Excuse ME , actually you can wrap that up, I’ll take it home, since I’m PAYing for it.” Who takes home a girl’s half eaten salad?!

thanksgiving_dinner.jpg.scaled500Matt finishes his meal and takes home my half-eaten salad. As the bill comes, he quickly takes it away and I offer to pay. He looks at me as if I am nuts, but I’m thinking “well sir, you’re the one who just made a huge deal about the salad and paying in front of the waitress!” After paying, he walks me to my car and I thank him for the 2 drinks and “App,” and say goodnight. But Matt isn’t finished. “Is that it? I bought you an $80 meal and you’re not going to come home with me?” I guess I looked at him in disgust , and he tried to throw in a ” Just kidding!” My salad was $6 and my two drinks were $8, so no sir, you did not spend $80 bucks on me! I quickly closed the door and drove off.

Two days later, he sends a text message:” Are you ignoring me?” I decided to respond: “Yes.”  I haven’t heard from him since.

The bad ones always follow up, don’t they? Not once have they realized “Well, that was a nightmare. No way in hell she wants to hear from me again!” However, as bad ones go, Matt would’ve had to order 50 entrees to compete with our gold medal winner. 


And finally, the gold medal story of male insanity, from Gail C., writing from an undisclosed location. With good reason.

It all started when I innocently met a guy for coffee on his lunch break. I did not plan on seeing him again, but he continued to text and call and I finally caved in. Several months went by of us hanging out and dating and spending time together. He seemed nice enough and harmless (HA). 

After some time I invited this guy, we’ll call him Steve, to come on a beach trip with my friends, but made it clear that we would have separate bedrooms, and he was only invited to stay two days, as I felt it was too soon to spend an entire week together. We drove there together when the time came and everything was fine for the first day.

The second night he was there, we were all drinking, of course. Steve became incredibly drunk, also of course. I told the others that I wanted some time alone and was walking to the ocean and would be back shortly. That is apparently where I went wrong. I was standing in the edge of the tide alone (approx. midnight), when Steve appeared next to me. He was drunk and angry at me for “running away”. He began bumping into me and standing in front of me. He was stumbling all around, so I took off running into the ocean to get away from him. The farther out I went, the more panicked he became. He was screaming at me to come in before the sharks ate me. I was just laughing and telling him to relax. I swam back to the beach.

"Do you know that I LOVE YOU?"

“Do you know that I LOVE YOU?”

At this point, Steve declares his love for me. “Do you not know that I LOVE YOU?” He then asks me to hold his new iPhone so he can go into the ocean to die, because he wants to die if I do not love him back. I realize this is serious, and head back to the house (running) to get away from him and to be close to my friends. I then go into my room, lock both the inside and the patio doors and text my friends to tell them about this whacko. [Editor’s Note: I’m sure her friends were real pumped to get that text. “Oh, she locked herself in her room, so I guess we get to deal with him all night!”] When Steve gets back, I hear him enter the house sloppy and clumsy. He is stomping and falling. He climbs the three flights of stairs to my room and I hear him tugging on the door knob. When it doesn’t budge, he runs to the patio door and repeatedly tries jerking it open. With no luck, he returns to the inside door. He begins knocking. Louder, louder, louder. My friends come up and tell him to go to bed like everyone else. 

My silence sends him over the edge and he begins banging on my door, and screaming “FUCK YOU!” repeatedly, and throwing things around the house. Not sure what else to do, I just try to sleep. As I am dozing off, I hear him stomping and slamming and him screaming my name “GAIL!” through the house and off the balconies. I finally fall asleep anyway, and am awakened nearly an hour later by loud pounding on my door. I try to ignore it and act as though I am not in there, and then I hear “Gail! Open up! It’s the Sheriff!”.

I climb out of bed, trying to decide whether this is Steve trying to trick me out of my safe place. I fling the door opened, pissed, only to find myself face to face with the Sheriff. Apparently Steve had been running up and down the beach screaming my name, and screaming for help. Another house nearly a mile up the beach had heard his cries for help and called the police, who immediately drove up the beach looking for a person screaming help. They found him on our front steps, and when asked if he needed help he responded “Yes! I can’t find my girlfriend! She was on the beach and now she’s in the ocean!”

The sheriff ordered him to go to bed, took me aside, and advised me to stop seeing him (duh). The next day, at 7 am, I woke up and informed him that he would be taking a taxi to the airport.

You know you’re in the middle of an amazing internet dating experience when you hear the words “Open Up! It’s the Sheriff!” So there you have it, Steve, Matt, and Mister Hysterectomy, showing the diaspora of male internet dating insanity. A little bit of crazy, a little bit of angry, and a whole lot of horribly confused. I will say that it’s not wise to invite a guy on a beach vacation if you’re not particularly interested in him, but it’s hard to blame the ladies on this one. Sometimes us guys, well, we just act like assholes.

Another example of an asshole.

Another example of an asshole.

Think your tales of internet dating disaster are medal worthy? Send me your awful stories here at! 

Posted in Your Awful Stories | 12 Comments

Is Bad Grammar a Dating Dealbreaker?

WhoopsIts my first time writing a profile, but I guess I’ll give it a shot…

Your gonna laugh when I tell you this, but my favorite thing to do on Friday night’s is play Scrabble!

Their is this amazing pizza place down the street, they’re sauce is the best, and the couple who runs it: there my favorites! I go there alot!

Sure, you could put any one of these sentences in your dating profile, or you could just write “I hate puppies.” Or “The Beatles were fucking hacks.” Or “My biggest problem with George Bush was that he could only serve two terms.” If there is one thing internet daters hate, it’s a typo. In profiles, emails, texts–heck, even if you just use bad grammar in your imagination, it’ll drive someone insane. And if your error happens to involve a member of the Its/It’s, Your/You’re, or There/Their/They’re Holy Trinity, shit is gonna get crazy. Your email isn’t just getting deleted, it’s getting forwarded to me with a caption that I’m too dignified to repeat. OK. I’m not dignified at all. It will say, “Can you believe this fucking asshole?!”, and then I will be expected to respond in kind. But you know what? I’m not doing that. Because I don’t think a couple of typos is really that big of a deal.

If you Google “internet dating turnoffs,” bad grammar is always on the list. (No, don’t Google it now. You’d have to leave this site. NEVER LEAVE THIS SITE.) For a lot of people, it’s a deal breaker. And they’re unapologetic about it. If you write “its” instead of “it’s,” your ass is out the door. And honestly, I don’t get it. Now, admittedly, regular readers of this site will know that I am fond of making a typo or two. Hell, there’s typos in my book. There’s almost certainly going to be typos in this article about typos! And yes, I recognize that the irony is deliciously rich, but not so rich that I’m going to send this piece to one of my proofreaders to make sure it’s error-free. Because typos, for me, are just a thing that happens. Internet writing is about speed, it’s about getting your ideas out there quickly, so if a mistake happens here or there, such is life. So I recognize that I have a bit of a horse in this race, but truly, I don’t understand the grammar nazism. And people will happily use that term…”Oh, you know me! I’m just a Grammar Nazi!” Isn’t that kinda of a tip-off that you’re going overboard, if you gotta use the word “Nazi” to explain your behavior?! No one ever says, “Oh, you know me! I’m just a Don’t-Set-Your-Baby-On-Fire Nazi.” Because we all know we’re not supposed to set babies on fire! You don’t have to be associated with the Nazis to take that super seriously. If the name of the worst organization in the history of the world is required to explain your devotion to a cause, it might be time to consider a few changes. Right? RIGHT.

"Zere is a differenze between ze colon and ze semi-colon!"

“Zere is a differenze between ze colon and ze semi-colon!”

Now obviously, there are different levels of typos. There’s someone who misplaces a word or apostrophe here or there, and there’s people who spit out this nonsense:

So anywae, whats the deal w the last email I sen t yu?!? Did u not geti t or what? Becuz youre pretty FUCKING stuk up if you think youre to important to write me bck…Its like get of youre fucking high horse…Chickz like u are the worst!!!!…That’s why i fuckin hate internt dating….

I mean, that person has to be stopped. And there’s a lot of those persons out there. I get forwarded those emails too, and I’m more than happy to echo the righteous indignation on those badboys. I mean, that reads like something written in cutout letters from a newspaper and sent along with a severed finger. And absolutely, that is not someone you should go out with. I mean, what is that guy’s idea of a perfect first date? Getting filet o’ fish sandwiches and watching Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer with the volume turned up all the way? But that guy and the guy who says “you’re house” instead of “your house” a couple of times are totally different. One is insane, and one made a mistake. The former is not smart, the latter could be if you give ’em a shot. Does a typo suggest carelessness? It does. Does it suggest lack of attention? Sure. But do those things warrant elimination from your dating pool entirely? In my opinion, no they do not.

Essentially it comes down to a question of priorities. What’s more important to you as a dater: proofreading or chemistry? If you meet someone you find otherwise keen, does it really make sense to disqualify them based solely on a few errant key strokes? What really are you accomplishing by doing that? You have not won some great victory in the name of grammar and academia everywhere, you’ve just crossed somebody off your list. If the mistakes are chronic enough to suggest unintelligence, then by all means, let that person go on their way. But sometimes in internet dating, you can get a lot further by giving someone a second shot.

Wait. You can get a lot farther. Further? Do those mean the same thing? Oh, I don’t know anymore. Somebody tell me in the comments.

Posted in Advice | 78 Comments

11 Lies Everyone Tells on an Internet Date

Where have you been all my life?

Where have you been all my life?

1) “Sure, I’d love to have another drink!”

The vast majority of internet dates should end after cocktail #1. Like, 90% of them. But for some reason that feels rude. Your date’s expression says “I’d rather be watching my DVR!”, while you return a gaze that cries “Me too! I’d even tolerate commercials at this point!” But for some reason, when the bartender saunters over, neither of you can muster up the courage to ask for the check. He says “So, another round?!” and both of you look at your phone, realize you’ve only been there for 20 minutes, and say “Sure, why not!” as your mind immediately runs through 10 perfectly good reasons why not. Why do we do this to ourselves?! We as a dating public must have the courage to say “No thanks. It was good meeting you, but I’ve gotta run.” There’s nothing wrong with that. We can do it! Here’s how! Maybe!

2) “No, I’ve never been to this bar before, but it seems cool.”

If you’re on an Internet date and the guy picked the bar, he’s been there before. Several times. With several different women. Once a guy finds a good date spot, he tends to revisit it over and over. Why? Because, above all else, we are both lazy and stupid. I’m sorry. I really am. I had one bar in New York that I went to so often that the waitresses would ask me, “So, how’s this one going?” when my date would go to the restroom. And yes, my heart broke a little bit every time it happened. But it’s not easy to find a good first date spot, and we guys don’t like to give one up. No matter how much of a cad we feel like ordering the same drink from the same waitress, but with a different date. Like I said, I’m really sorry. Honestly, if you can muster up the attraction, I can’t recommend lesbianism highly enough.

3) “I am a normal person who can date in a normal way, I just find internet dating more convenient!”

Oh right, because emailing strangers, fending off “winks” from 60 year-old weirdos, and meeting people for happy hour on a Tuesday is super convenient!

I will french you for that seat. And yes, I am aware there are open seats.
I will french you for that seat. And yes, I am aware there are open seats.


It’s not 1920. We all kiss on first dates. Hell, in return for an empty subway seat, we’ll kiss on the way to a first date. Collectively, we’re floozies.

5) “Oh, I had no idea you went to school there!”

Yes you did. You Googled me. I Googled you. We know everything about each other that a semi-protected Facebook page can yield, as well as whatever I could glean from several outdated articles from your college newspaper. Sure, I don’t know exactly what you look like, but I do know that you received moderate-to-positive reviews in Colgate Drama Society’s 2003 production of The Fantasticks.

6) “My best friend isn’t my cat.”

OK, maybe that one’s just me.

7) “No, I’m not hungry at all.”

Really? Because the violent crime I’m going to perpetrate on a turkey burger the second I get home from this date suggests otherwise. Look, you eat dinner at 7:30, I eat dinner at 7:30. And even though our date is at 7:30, we’re both gonna pretend that red wine will totally suffice as supper, because we know that ordering dinner on a first Internet date is a no-no. Because the minute you place an order, you’re gonna realize your date is insane, and then you’re trapped until the entrees arrive. Sure, you could cancel the order, but you didn’t even have the guts to bail before a second drink ten minutes ago, so who are we kidding?

In a few minutes, they're gonna be doing it.

In a few minutes, they’re gonna be doing it.

8) “I love hiking too!”

Applies to LA internet dates only.

9) “I actually really love my job.”

I’m not sure I’ve ever been on a date where the woman has said, “you know, honestly, I hate what I do. It’s boring, and everyday I want to punch someone.” Why not? I used to work at a preposterous internet company that sold knickknacks like candles and fuzzy tea cozies. It was exactly as awful as that sentence makes it sound, but for some reason on dates I’d say, “It’s pretty cool. I mean, the schedule is flexible, and the job’s kinda dull, but I love my coworkers!” What that actually meant was: “I hate my co-workers, sometimes I sneak naps in the bathroom, and I spend lunch imagining ways to kill myself that feature either candles or fuzzy tea cozies. So far, the best one involves a catapult.” Actually, it’s probably good I didn’t say that. That’s pretty weird.

10) “I only smoke when I’m drinking.”

And yet, I’m carrying cigarettes. So either that’s a fib, or I drink A LOT. You pick!

11) “I wore this see-through shirt totally by accident.”

Let me guess. That one’s also just me?

Posted in Internet Dating is Weird | 20 Comments

The Worst Things to Do on a First Date


Everything that’s going on in my email box right now.

You guys keep emailing me and asking what’s the best thing to do on the first date. And I appreciate it, I really do. It’s nice to wake up in the morning and see so many messages in the It’s Not a Match in-box, especially when all that’s in my personal one are two emails from my Mom, and a message from a girl named Tanya promising XXX SUPER HOT NUDE PICS JUST FOR YOU HONEY, TOTALLY REAL!! which I’m starting to think is a hoax. I mean, if they really were just for me, why do there seem to be so many people CC’d? And if they’re real, why does she looks like someone attached two Goodyear blimps to the chest of an underfed Russian woman? So many questions, so few answers. If only Tanya would ever write back!

Seriously, as much as I like hearing from the readers, my response to the first date question is always the same: Get Drunk. Don’t get messy, sassy, or stupid–just get a nice, respectable Dean-Martin-Christmas-Special kinda drunk. No shots, no drinks with the word “sex,” “slide,” or “blowjob” in them. Just a couple of cocktails, wines, beers, or Zimas. (Zima is Tanya’s favorite. Probably.) Do you need alcohol to have a good time? No. But you might need it to have a good time with someone you’ve never met who could very well be awful. I mean, come on. If someone walked up to you and said “Hey, see that chick standing in the corner? You’ve gotta talk to her this minute. I’ll tell you her name and her job and what she likes to do on the weekend, but you’re probably gonna forget. So GO.” Are you gonna slug back a bourbon first, or just go at it stone-cold sober? You’re taking the drink. You’re looking at the guy like he’s a lunatic, and then you’re taking the drink. Because drinking makes meeting someone easier. However, the following date ideas do not…

"It was really nice meeting you, but now I have to barf!"

“It was really nice meeting you, but now I have to barf!”

GETTING COFFEE: What, the evening doesn’t have you jittery enough, you wanna throw some caffeine into the equation to see what happens? Why don’t you just meet your date on a roller coaster, or, say, the inside of a volcano? I have never, I repeat NEVER had a good first date that involved only coffee. You can’t meet at Starbucks, because that’s just depressing, so instead you meet at an Independent Coffee Purveyor, which is either going to be dank and dirty or filled with strollers. I’m not sure which is worse for romance, but neither is good. And then what happens if the date is going well, you get a…second cup of coffee? Good grief. Dating is the anti-Glengarry Glen Ross: Coffee is Not for Closers.

PLAYING POOL: Why not invite your date to change your carburetor, or perhaps perfectly shave a man’s Adam’s apple? I mean, how far exactly do you want to take your date out of her comfort zone? Women often feel insecure about their pool playing ability, thinking it’s something men are either great at or care about tremendously. Neither could be further from the truth. It takes me 45 minutes to clear a pool table, and that’s with me manually dropping balls in the pockets when no one’s looking. But why pick an activity that is very possibly going to make your date nervous? There are plenty of women who love and are great at pool, but they’re in the minority, so don’t risk making the night uncomfortable. And if you think the thing where you teach them how to line up a shot is going to be cute and datey, you’re wrong. It’s gonna be weird and gropey. Put down the sticks and order a DRINK.

Also an option.

Also an option.

PLAYING DARTS: Sure the date is going badly now, but what if we introduce small, pointy knives into the equation? “Ooops! She hit me in the eye! I guess at least I don’t have pay for drinks!” I actually think darts is a pretty good date activity, because no one’s particularly good at it, which evens the playing field. Unless you’re one of those burly darts aficionados who’s known as “The Hammer” or “Bullseye Barney,” but something tells me snarky dating blogs really isn’t your thing, so I’m not speaking to you. If you’re gonna play a game, darts is a good choice, because it doesn’t monopolize the conversation too much, but still, it’s distracting. And really, any activity that increases the likelihood of a punctured lung is never a great date game plan.

GOING TO A MOVIE: Is there a way we can get to know each other less? What if we just watched DVDs separately at home? Or, how about this: at exactly 6:15 you take a two-hour long nap at your house, I’ll take one at my house, and then we reconvene afterwards to see how it went? Sound good? GOOD!

GOING OUT FOR DINNER: It guarantees the date will be long, expensive, and possibly result in gas. BINGO! I believe we have BINGO!

WALKING OUR DOGS TOGETHER: No good first date involves feces, human or otherwise. However, tune in next week for why it plays an integral role in date #3! (I’m kidding. As far as you know.)

Posted in Advice, Internet Dating is Weird | 19 Comments

Tinder: The Newest and Most Annoying Way to Internet Date

You know it works because she's making a heart with her hands.

You know it works because she’s making a heart with her hands.

Have you ever felt like internet dating contains too much information. Like, you finish reading someone’s profile and think, “You know, I feel like I almost know them too well. Is there any way we can put some mystery back into this nameless, vague, based-largely-on-platitude-based-profiles relationship?” Well good news, because Tinder, the new iPhone dating app that is exploding on college campuses everywhere, is here to take all the pesky “getting to know you out” of actually, you know, getting to know someone.

The app is pretty simple. Basically, it’s Grindr for straight people. You download the program to your phone and it immediately links up with Facebook. It then uses your profile photo to show you other Tinder users in the area, and, in turn, shows you to them. And that’s it! No information, bios, or explanations of what you’re looking for out of love, life, or…anything really. You see a picture, usually of someone who’s 17 years-old, hit the “like” or “dislike” button, and as far as I can tell, within 20 minutes you’re having sex. And then getting arrested.

Seriously though, it’s that simple. Every profile category you’ve come to know and not particularly love on Match and OkCupid is disposed of. No more “What am I Looking For” or “Six Things I Can’t I Live Without” or “On a Typical Friday Night I Am”. It’s too bad too, because I’d really perfected my answer to the last one. I uploaded a collage of my cat, a DVR sitting at 100% capacity, and a bag of Cadbury Mini Eggs. It’s breathtaking. Tinder only gives you more information about your beloved if you like her picture and she likes yours back. Then you get access to each other’s Facebook pages and can start conversing, presuming Chris Hansen and Dateline hasn’t yet burst into your living room. But until you get confirmation of mutual interest, you’re left to images like this to decide if you’re smitten….




Basically it’s like trying to go on a date with Instagram. Except, possibly, more irritating. Every picture has the sheen of being fed through seven different image filters, usually involves a “wacky expression,” and almost always features more than one person. I mean, who exactly are we supposed to be attracted to here?




There are 800 girls in that picture, and they all look exactly the same. I’ll take…you! The one with dyed blond hair. No, not you! The one in sunglasses! Oh, forget it.

Tinder14Sure, why not throw in a few dudes just to make it more confusing. Honestly, you might as well just take a picture of an entire country. I would be no less likely to figure out who I’m supposed to be looking at. And then of course, my all-time favorite…


Whose back do you find the hottest? I guess just click the heart and hope it’s her! But don’t worry, she’s in a sorority, so she’s probably pretty cool no matter what.

I have only tried out Tinder for a couple of days, as I was just informed of its existence by the It’s Not a Match Street Team. (There is no It’s Not a Match Street Team.) So far, these are my conclusions: everyone on it is under 22, and people who are under 22 all seem to have ridiculous names. Here’s a few I encountered:

Janesssa, Jaimiey, Kcristina, Brena, Jas, Natascha, Mychelle, Rahael, My-Ishia, Kayte, Jillian, Gillian, Jillyanne, Jilleane, Jileen, Samaire, Elisse, Orly, Lisle, Vilte, Alixe, Austyn, Jadel, Chantelle, Storm, and Mary. Oh sorry, I meant Marii. Also…


That’s right, a girl whose name is incredibly close to Nazi.

In an interview about the site, the founders said Tinder was necessary because traditional dating sites are built on long-winded profiles, most of which are fake. Really? And you’re telling me there’s actually someone out there named Marii? Yeah right. They also said other sites involve too much rejection, as the men send lots of emails that are never answered, and the women are immediately freaked out by the creepiness of said emails. So ultimately, no one wins. And I get that. I mean, if it weren’t true, this website wouldn’t exist. But is Tinder any less creepy? Men of any age tossing their presence at you based strictly on one picture of your face? No personality, no communication, no ability to evaluate their sanity before giving them access to your real name and Facebook page? Sure, it takes less time, but does anyone really want to date that way? I don’t know, as far as I’m concerned, OkCupid has never sounded so good.

There was one thing on Tinder that made me feel right at home, however. A single image that reminded me of the good ol’ days…


Aaaah, yes. The faceless profile. It’s nice to see you, old friend. Now that’s the internet dating experience I know and love!

Posted in Internet Dating is Weird | 13 Comments