No More Hipsters

The other day, my happily married friend sent me a picture of her adorable 6-month old baby. In a moment of hormonal weakness (tainted by being yelled at in French three consecutive times), I wrote back “I want one toooo!” This was an outburst I immediately came to regret, as the remainder of the conversation went somewhat like this:

Married Friend: “So do it! Get it done!”

(Cause its just that easy..) 

Me: “How?!”

MF: “Stop fucking around. Stop tindering losers.”

Me: “Ok. Give me a game plan.”

MF: “1. Move 2. Stop it with the artsy fartsy boho losers. 3. Learn how to cook. 4. Stop going out with losers!!!!!!! Stop hanging out with them stop being seen with them. This is the most vital step. It cannot be repeated enough – 2 and 4 are key.”

For once, I didn’t have it in me to argue with her, to defend myself (or the artsy fartsy boho losers), or to tell her that 2 and 4 are essentially the same thing and to get her arguments in line. I knew that this would be nothing but an attempt to divert the attention from the focal point, which was that my Married Friend was right.

My penchant for smelly, dirty hipster types has a longstanding history, providing an insatiable source of entertainment for friends and loved ones for years. First, there were the Jesus types that I used to pick up on every corner in the East Village – while their names are now forgotten, their odors will live in our memories forever. Then, there was a long-term ex who wasn’t bad, unless you count the time he moved to LA to “find himself” i.e. smoke weed in a Silver Lake commune. Finally, there was the Parisian rebound who bought his clothing in a vintage store that priced their items by the kilo. He smelled like an old moldy dustbin, yet even that did not prevent me from engaging in sexual intercourse with him.

For reasons completely unknown to me, I appear to be inherently attracted to people who see forgoing showering as a political statement that showcases their deep intellect. The biggest problem is that, albeit being a semi-rational person, I actually feed into their bullshit, momentarily believing that their lack of social etiquette makes them “alternative” i.e. “different” i.e. “special and smart”. After dating about 300 of them, I will tell you with certainly that they are none of these things. What they actually are is elitist and insecure, not to mention judgmental towards people who do not meet their idea of “cool”. No matter how much meaning I try to find behind the never-washed Acne skinny jeans (usually 2 sizes smaller than my own), there actually is none. In fact, for the most part, the golden rule is: If it looks like it smells, it probably does.

Just last week, I went on a Tinder date with a film director who boasted a facial pet that would have put Jared Leto to shame. It was pouring in Paris, which meant that he smelled similar to my dog Chloe after a long walk. As we sat in a café, starving to death while discussing some film project he had done in Africa (the only topic his blasé ass was interested in at the moment), a fellow hipster interrupted us to inquire about my beard  grooming routine. At that moment, I knew I had hit rock bottom. While I had been meaning to wean myself off my dirty little fetish for a while, I knew that it was time to let go, once and for all.

And so, as we slowly roll into Fall and allow Real Life to take its course again, I resolve to abandon my passion for sullied broke losers and begin dating people of slightly more respectful caliber. I’m not saying that in the months to come, you will come to find stories about finance magnates and oil tycoons who whisk me off on yachts where personal butlers tend to my whims of fresh squeezed lychee juice. Unfortunately, I’m not that kind of Russian. (And by this, I mean that possess neither the looks, nor the values of Elena Perminova.) I am most likely to continue to reject ostentatious luxury, inhabit in my beloved Le Marais, and seek out people with interests more similar to my own. Except, this time, they may have actual jobs.

Now, your turn! What is the one poor dating habit you plan on ditching this September?!