This imperative tutorial was brought to you by a fabulous writer in her late 30’s who has chosen to remain anonymous.
I recently experienced my first ghosting.
My introductory encounter with this modern-day ailment was inflicted by a man a few years my junior – a 35-year-old man, to be exact. Anybody who has ever dated in New York knows that 35 is the developmental dark hole, the age when men don’t know WTF about anything female-related. Sure, they may be proudly wearing certain hallmarks of manhood, like a secure job or a their first piece of real estate. But, when it comes to relationships and emotions, they are either frightened and confused or simply don’t give a damn. It’s a tricky time to engage with a guy – you are almost better to go younger or older, but 35 – oof.
The experience, unpalatable as it was, got me thinking about the times I’ve successfully gone out with younger men. Let me pause here to state that there haven’t been that many – I prefer older men because I’m an Alpha female on the outside and a loving mushball on the inside (Scorpio!) and need someone who is strong enough to take my Alpha female hand and lead the way, and be bloody mature about the whole thing. I also like a man that has his feet firmly planted on the ground, and it takes time for a man to get there, developmentally. Besides, it takes a lot to tame a firecracker such as myself, and I have found that age and experience help the case.
Today, I bring to you another story of the Loggster, my ultra-talented friend who once had Jake Gyllenhaal dump her 2 days before New Years. Luckily for me (and you guys) this girl seems to be a gift that just keeps on giving.
This past January, the Loggster met a guy on Tinder. (Where else? Seriously, where else?) He was visiting from Miami, and on the first date he informed her that he liked to vacation at Disney World, because, I quote (like there is any fucking way I could make this up), “it reminds him of different parts of the world”. Read More
Disclaimer: The author of this post is not at all shallow; in fact, he’s a really nice guy who was simply dealt a hand of shit dating luck. The title was selected by the (evil) editor because she thought it was funny, given the circumstances.
And now for a completely different perspective, not often seen on Dbag Dating: the ultimate date horror story from a guy’s point of view. To make it even more of an outlier for DD, this is the perspective of someone who, at the age of 42, falls just outside of this site’s primary age demographic.
A little background on myself, I’m (obviously) single, have never been married, and, until very recently, had never availed myself to the intriguing world of online dating. In early December 2013, after my girlfriend and I broke up (i.e., she dumped me), I joined a dating site specific to Greeks because, duh, I am Greek and figured that, since I’ve had no luck meeting “that special someone” on my own, maybe it was time to take the leap. Well, I did meet that special someone alright – the girl who soon would get voted into the “Worst Dates Of All Time” Hall of Fame.
Editor’s Note: This very timely post comes from a new contributor to this blog, whom I like to call the Loggster. The Loggster is one of my best friends, earning her nickname for being one of the calmest, nicest people I know. (Log -> Boring person -> Loggster. Get it?!) However, she also shares my special Superwoman powers of ATTRACTING ALL THE WRONG GUYS, and so her voice on this site is highly cherished.
Dear Dbag Addict,
In response to your most recent inquiry, “What’s the worst way a guy has ever broken up with you?”, here goes my tale of the New Year’s Eve that never happened.
Editor’s Note: This episode of the OK Cupid Files is brought to you by The Drama Magnet.
I like to think of the whole OK Cupid episode as a research method to help my friend with this site. (Yes, I’m a great friend. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.) One of the most memorable “encounters” was what later became known as Mister Quinoa.
MQ was a 21-year-old-comedian who didn’t speak a word of English but looked hot in a ‘dirty hipster/starving artists’ kind of way. (Editors Note: he didn’t. He just looked like a dirty hipster and starving artist rolled up in one package, with a tacky fedora thrown on top.)