Once upon a time on a hot summer night in Paris, I met a whimsical, beautiful girl named Pacha. She had a distinct Frida Kahlo vibe and immediately struck me as one of those smart, cool and genuinely kind people who don’t come around too often. We became fast friends and I attribute some of my best Parisian memories to our escapades (my crazy 28-Shades-of-Gray-themed birthday party included!) Pacha soon left us to pursue her passion for all things activism in New York City. By the time I moved back to New York a few months later, I found her living in Brooklyn, head-over-heels in love with a fellow artist named Robert. It’s great to see your friend in love, but it’s even better to see her in love with somebody who looks at her like she is the most amazing person in the world, which is how Robert looks at Pacha. A few months later, Pacha called me to invite me to their wedding. I barely blinked an eye – some things, no matter how crazy, just seem right.
This valuable life lesson is brought to you by my dear friend Rebecca Suhrawardi, a New York-based features and fashion journalist with an expat stint in London. When she is not being a tormented writer, she is busy being a mummy to her mini-golden doodle, Aiko. Follow her on Twitter and Instagram where you will find useless information, links to her work, and pretty images.
In a world full of ghosting and benching, living, breathing humans have become as disposable as that swift swipe to the left. Forget about bloody chivalry; it seems that, when it comes to dating, simple humanity has been thrown out the window. At what point did we forget that those left behind in the wake of rejection are actual fellow humans, with real feelings and attachments? Ghosting isn’t fun no matter what the circumstances, and neither is any method of ending a relationship that doesn’t involve some sense of decency. There has to be a better way.
So, the Cross-Cupper incident was fun. A little crazy, a bit on the wild side, but fun nonetheless. All is well that ends well, as they say.
And yet, the episode got me thinking. As much as I may enjoy the adrenaline rush of escaping some weirdo’s home in the middle of the night, I am very fortunate that said weirdo ended up being a benign threat. Next time – if I am dumb enough to get myself in a similar predicament once again, that is – I may not be that lucky.
In our day and age, you cannot be too careful. Even if you don’t have a recreational habit of dating people with telltale signs of psychiatric disorders, you don’t know what dangers may be lurking around the corner. As Kim K recently taught us, our seemingly innocent social media habits can easily put us on the radar of smart criminals. Even if you don’t happen to have $10 million in jewelry laying around, there is always the possibility of those impromptu street assaults that nobody is protected from. (I myself have been the target of not one but two phone snatching attempts in the past year alone, one in London and one in Hanoi. Proud to say that I kicked the Vietnamese dude’s scrawny ass.) Oh, and if all of the above doesn’t scare you, there is always our GOP presidential nominee, eager to get his hands on your precious flower!
Illustration by sketch wunderkind Kelcey Vossen
The Cross-Cupper (whose nickname will be deciphered towards the end of this pièce de résistance) and I met on The League, a dating app that was originally created to connect cerebrally blessed Ivy League graduates but is now banking on its subscriber roster by allowing regular folks to join at a whoopin $150 a year. (I, however, got in through some beta mode loophole that allowed regular chicks to join for free for a hot second.)
In a digital sea of boring bankers, the Cross-Cupper stood out, as he looked more like a Raya reject with his sexy Jason Statham physique and a Rick Owens-esque vibe that instantly tickled my hipster-loving pickle. Thirty minutes after we matched, I received a message.
“Your blog is hilarious.”
Aw. After the initial moment of feeling flattered, I became confused. This was not an uber-transparent app, which means that users were more or less anonymous. I asked him how he had found me.
“Google Image search, babe. I had to vet you.”
It’s been quite the Fashion Month. First, Kanye decided to orchestrate a bona fide model barbecue out in Roosevelt Island. Then, blogger drama ensued. Last but not least, Kim K. fell victim to some serious gangster games, triggering a not-so-positive display of human nature. But we cannot let West-Kardashian drama divert from the most important part of the biannual extravaganza: the actual sartorial goodness that graced the runways! Let’s take a walk on the wild side of the SS17 Paris Fashion Week collections and decipher how these pieces can be utilized to boost, confuse, or annihilate our love lives! Read More
Every single person I know and their mother is on a dating app. And yet, none of them are getting any less single as a result of this predicament.
Sure, I’ve seen stats on the infinite amounts of people meeting online and falling in love and birthing Tinder babies and all that stuff modern-day love stories are made of. And, while I know a few couples who have met as a result of the starter dating sites à la JDate or OKCupid, I do not personally know anybody who has succeeded in generating a real relationship through one of the New Age swiping mechanisms that iTunes has to offer. Either I have managed to spread the Dbag Dating plague to those around me, or there is something fishy going on. After all, why is it that, despite having a direct communication line with the majority of the urban single population, most of us are more frustrated than ever before? Is it possible that we are misusing the tools bestowed upon us by the gods of Silicon Valley, and furthering our collective ADD and indecisiveness?
With this in mind, I have taken a page from Bill Maher and appointed a set of New Rules stemming from the most common complaints I have heard, designed for us to treat dating apps with the deep respect they deserve.