So what makes me undateable? I mean, I’ve been writing about how I am for two and a half years…but what does it all mean, exactly?
The first date indicates if a person’s worth your time. The second date is a way to see if the spark is really there. The third date, though? That’s when you’re officially in it to win it.
When I block a guy, I don’t have to go through the motions of hoping and thinking that it’s him. Because it isn’t. Because he can’t get through to me.
“Have you thought about selling your iPhone with Flappy Bird on it?” Mike from Tinder asked me, one day before...
I know that the power in a relationship falls under the person who cares the least…and as awful as it sounds, I’ve grown to hate being the person who cares the most.
A few days after our date, Big Kid asked me for a picture. Not a smizing selfie or even an Instagram screenshot, but a photo. Of the dirty variety.
Relax and live a little, she said. It’ll be fun, she said. You won’t get hurt, she said. And true to her nature, she’s dumb as hell for thinking that.
Richie was a weirdo. I’d already decided this 30 seconds after we matched on Tinder.
You know, I’d always heard horror stories about how painful waxing is. It’s not like I hadn’t experienced it in a smaller dosage – I routinely got my eyebrows waxed. But there is a huge difference between getting your brows waxed and getting a Brazilian. HUGE.
A few months ago, I received the most unique message that I’ve received on OkCupid thus far. And by unique, I mean something other than “I like your boobs.”
Out of curiosity, I asked my little sister and cousin how they meet boys these days. They gave me typical answers to be expected of teens: parties, pools, summer camp. One answer surprised me, though – Instagram.
My feelings have been hurt many times by the good ol’ RR…including by my dad. My own FATHER, y’all.
I want the little things…like a guy who writes me love letters – or in this day and age, love texts – every morning. I want “just because” flowers. And besides the tangible stuff – I want to feel like I’m a princess.
My friend Lenia was in town for the weekend. We caught up over sushi and plum wine in Cobble Hill when she mentioned that one of her OkCupid matches wanted to meet up with her that night. As she showed me the text, I noticed his name before anything else – Mitt.
I deleted my OkCupid profile at the beginning of the year. I figured that I needed a fresh start. I had it for a good 24 months, met two douchebags and a handful of creeps who sent really uncomfortable messages. The page had bad vibes, man. So I started fresh and made a brand new one.
What I don’t have are non-negotiables – dating deal breakers. It’s not like I’ve dated tons and tons of guys, so there aren’t any huge no-no’s that I’ve established.
Whenever I like a guy – I mean really, really like a guy – I somehow lose all of my hard-earned, Howard-educated judgment and morph into a third grader.
If you know that you care about someone and the feeling’s mutual, who needs a title or even a Facebook status? Just be. But that’s how girls get caught up.
When is it ever okay for a boy (not a man) to ASK a young lady who he barely knows to take HIM out? My mans, aren’t you supposed to be impressing me?
Men – not boys – go after what they want. If they like you, or are even remotely interested, they WILL get you…or at least try.
This year, it’s just me, myself and I. And I’m starting to realize that that might be best…not just on February 14, but for a little while.
Let’s be honest here. Looks aren’t everything and certainly shouldn’t be, but they play a huge part in dating – especially online dating, where much of the importance is placed on the perfect profile picture.
It was a call for essays from Michael Ealy's Biggest Fan. "How would you like to look directly into those bedroom eyes? It can happen, right here on the Steve Harvey show!" Girl, I was SOLD.
During the holidays, I tinkered with Tinder and even dusted the cobwebs off of my 2-year-old Plenty of Fish profile, making sure to avoid OkCupid at all costs. It’s not a permanent goodbye, but I’ve already met enough douchebags on there.
There’s nothing wrong with casual dating, of course. I just don’t know if I’m cut out for it because I don’t know what I’m doing, and because I’ve never been in a real relationship.
Like the rest of the free world, I played Beyonce's fifth album on repeat as soon as it dropped. After the 4444th listen, I realized that Bey wasn’t making music for all the single ladies anymore – she was doing it for the lovers. The committed. The dateable.
I paced around my empty apartment, racking my brain for something to do…you know, besides job apps. I was lonely, which is weird for someone who’s so used to being alone. I could’ve called one of my homegirls to catch up or hang out, but I craved company – the male kind.
Every single guy that I talked to this year was a complete and utter asshole. And it’s not like I didn’t see the signs…I just chose to ignore them because I was so thirsty for a boo. But it’s cool. If anything, I learned valuable lessons from the douchebags that I encountered – with the primary one being not to date douchebags, obvi.
Being friendzoned – when a person develops romantic feelings for someone, but the other person only sees the relationship as just being friends, according to Urban Dictionary – had to be one of the hugest ego crushers that I experienced this year.
It sucks, but I’ve never had a guy genuinely like me. I came to this harsh realization after poring over one of my go-to read, “He’s Just Not That Into You.” The message is simple, really - if a guy wants to talk to you, he'll call. If he wants to see you, he'll see you. If he says he sees a future with you, then he'll start to make it happen.
I pride myself on being a truthful person…always have been. As a kid, when my parents asked me to confess...
'Tis the season for food, friends and family...but old boos always find a way to mess up that holiday cheer. One of my friends, Ashley, hit me up with a holiday dilemma.
He was the world’s worst communicator. But whenever I posted something on Instagram, he’d always hit me up. Always. I could be waiting for an answer for days at a time but if I posted a selfie or something, he’d come sliding back into my inbox.
I had a Vera Wang tab open in Safari as soon as we said goodbye. I couldn’t wait ‘til you hit me up because I just KNEW that your text was on fire. And our initial textual exchanges were just like when we met…the conversation was flowing and the emojis were going. It was perfect. But you changed. You’re different. And I just don’t like it.
I’ve grown so accustomed to blending in, doing my own thing and avoiding unwanted attention that it’s hard for me to notice if someone’s noticing me.
“Why does he act like he wants to be with me when he says that he doesn’t?!” I asked Tranessa.