Recently, I’ve received some unsettling news. Apparently I have not given a fair perspective on dating in my columns from the female side. I have been accused of severe misogyny, and because being a feminist lets me acquire relationships with ease, I must save my good name now.
So in order to mend these ridiculous claims, I now present to the opinion of dating written in the perspective of a fully mature, intellectually capable, run-of-the mill tenth grade girl (compare and contrast with my previous articles to see which perspective is more just):
So my best friend Lauren likes this guy Jason. Cute, right?
She thinks he’s cute and quirky. She mostly thinks he’s quirky because he shows all the early signs of multiple personality disorder, but no one has the heart to tell her that (she’ll figure it out!). Lauren asked his friend Mark to ask Jason if he liked her. When Mark replied that Jason would rather be “slathered with peanut butter … naked and [roll around] in an ant hill” than date her, Lauren took this as an invitation to text him every day asking him, “lol wut r u up 2.” His reply was a steady and reassuring “n2m u.”
From these conversations they have formed a meaningful relationship filled with a love that shakes them to their core. Everyone knows they’re dating, as her relationship status on Facebook is “In a Relationship with Jason Imabroman” (he’s German), and when they see each other at parties they look away every time they accidentally make eye contact. Don’t worry though, because he puts his arm around her for pictures.
So Lauren and Jason go on for about two weeks, having had only three real experiences where they spoke in person. Each of these involved Jason asking Lauren for food (he’s just a bro lookin’ for some grub to fuel the LAX tank!). Unfortunately, love doesn’t last forever. One day, Jason told Lauren that although he was captivated by her charming intellect and thought-provoking conversation, he had to end it. It was just too painful for him to be so in love with someone so emotionally unavailable.
Deep, right?
Seriously? I mean, I wear my American Apparel dress just as tight as the next girl, and I still can’t find a guy to make out with at parties. But Laura — sorry Lauren — just has to cry and cry for days about this heart-wrenching break up while I’m the one who hasn’t kissed a boy since her cousin passed out in the barn last summer and I just wanted to experiment! Don’t call me desperate; I’m just extremely, extremely available. I swear to God, if this devil’s minion gets another boyfriend before I do I WILL slaughter her firstborn. Call me!
