Snack Chat: Online Dating and My Tinder Criteria

Watch me talk about my OkCupid date with a guy named Scooter, (all while secretly doing some sort of Zooey Deschanel impression? So quirky!) Take it all in for your viewing pleasure, then like it, then read an old post I wrote about Tinder, below.

My Tinder Criteria

You people know about the dating app Tinder by now, right? Well, in case you just got out of a year long relationship yesterday and previously had no need to troll the internet for a butt you could bounce change off of or abs you could wash your delicates on, I’ll explain how it works.

It’s very simple- you sign in with Facebook, it shows a couple of your profile pics, and people can either “nope” you or “like” you. If you’re noped, it goes to the next person, if you’re liked and you like them back, it’s a match, and you can chat. Basically, you just judge people on whether you think they’re hot enough to potentially date. There’s also the option to see if you have mutual friends or Facebook interests and to write a small profile, but really it’s just about looks because the novelty of two people listing Friday Night Lights as their favorite show wears off quickly.

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I don’t plan on messaging or meeting anyone because it all sounds to me like a death trap. A free app where you don’t even post your full name and people only pick you based on your looks just sounds like a place where really kinky serial killers go to find red heads with blue eyes so they can torture them (me) for a week then put your (my) severed fingers in a deep fryer. Regardless, reducing a human being’s worth to what they look like in 5 pictures and then choosing whether to “next” them or validate them as individuals turns out to be a strangely therapeutic way to pass the time!

I’ve already developed a quick system on how I nope people. My best advice is to have some hard and fast bottom lines on Tinder or any online dating site because you don’t have time to meet every stranger you come across. Have some personal deal breakers set up before you even get started so you can breeze through those profiles. Here are mine:

Guys wearing fedoras. I like to keep to that standard both online and in life.

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Guys in front of a step-and-repeat (I’m only being shown LA guys).

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Professional headshots (I’m only being shown LA guys).

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Guys in tank tops.

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Guys wearing tank tops in their professional headshots.

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Anything featuring an instrument. 

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This guy just looks like a handful.

Guys taking their own picture in the mirror. 

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Pictures with kids in them (are they yours?!).

Except this guy. They look so adorable, and she’s probably his niece.

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Nope, definitely this guy. He’s a monster and that little girl is a decoy.

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And whatever is happening in this picture. 

pickle Predator!!! Predator!!!

What’s kind of things do you see on Tinder that makes you nope a person? A man taking a picture with two young ladies eating a phallic object Lady and the Trap style? I hope so!

Wine and Whine Podcast

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A few weeks ago I mentioned that I was starting a podcast, and now the first episode is ready for your ears!

In our pilot we drink Babble wine and whine about online dating.When the wine’s finished so is the podcast!

Here’s what people are saying about it:

“Cute!” – our moms

“Longer than Schindler’s List.” – Producer Dave

“Please listen because making a podcast is more difficult than you’d think it’d be.” – Me

Follow us on twitter!

@WineandWhinePodcast

@DaraLaine

@GMConti

and theme song by Kathryn Gallagher @KathrynG

Click here to listen!

Submit a Q: How to Get Over a Guy

Dear Dara,

For some back story, I’ve been hanging out with this guy – we have gotten pretty close on a friendship level. I never really saw any potential until a few of my friends told me he totally adored me. This of course warps all normal thought processes and makes me think that maybe there is a love connection. Since normally my “douchebag radar” is always on and I love a good chase, I figured maybe for once I should listen to my friends and go for the nice guy. Finally, growing the balls (sorry to be so crude), I put on my best mascara and lip gloss and was ready to tell him how I felt. It was a warm summer night and the rain was falling on my recently lotioned legs while sitting on the stoop of his house … and I totally got rejected. I apparently wasn’t what he what he was looking for, which is odd because I’m a catch. Being this the first time to totally be smacked in the face in quite some time, and especially after putting myself out there when it’s something I never do, I would like to know how to move on and make the best of a sour situation.

– xoxo Disillusioned in DC

First, Disillusioned, may I congratulate you on your moxie. It’s very brave to put yourself out there like that, and as a person who never displays any sort of emotion besides sassy or drunk, I have a lot of respect for you. Not everyone can be vulnerable like that. I mean, I’m so emotionally inept that one day at my wedding, my vows to my husband will probably just be, “you’re cool, I guess, let’s binge watch Netflix originals together for the rest of our lives, but if you’re not into that it’s fine.”

Now, to answer your question, I’ll give you some advice an acting teacher once gave to my class. I think this is some good insight, but in the spirit of full disclosure, this teacher was a Manic Pixie Dream Girl who, like, went on 10 day silent yoga retreats, and we all had inappropriate feelings for her, so it’s possible I was drinking her Kool-Aid. But I don’t think so. Anyway, she told us about some guy drama she had when she first started performing at this improv theatre, and someone told her to just “put her head down and do the work.” In your situation I think that translates to you should just focus on your career and your hobbies and the things that are important to you, independent from men. You know you’re a catch so telling you that this guy’s a jerk won’t make you feel any better. Going out and meeting new boys can help, but in my experience it just bums me out more because I remember how much I hate small-talking dude-bros at bars. So, yeah, immerse yourself in things that lift your self-esteem, and you’ll develop that inner glow that only pregnant women and happy people have. Because in the wise words of RuPaul, “if you can’t love yourself, how the hell you gon’ love somebody else?” And also, “cut your fake eyelashes into 3 strips so they’re easier to apply.”

48 Hours: OKCupid

I have begun to realize that if I’m left alone long enough with a bottle of Rite Aid’s finest $3 cabernet, I get an overwhelming urge to join OKCupid. I don’t think that’s a sign of any kind of alcohol problem, but when I finally joined, it definitely felt like I was subletting a finished basement in rock bottom.

OkCupid-LogoI had thought about joining since I moved to LA, but then a few weeks ago on a whim, (wine/whim. Synonyms, really) I actually did it. While I sat on the couch with my roommate, I devised an OKCupid profile:

Profile Question: “What are you most likely to be doing on Friday night?”
My Answer: “Drinking wine while I watch a Golden Girls marathon by myself.”

Profile Question: “You should contact me if….”
My Answer: “….you enjoy feminist rants because it’s kind of my thing.”

That last one is actually just a direct quote from New Girl. You might think I wasn’t taking the questions seriously, but if you know anything about me, you know that if I said literally anything else it would have been a lie.

After finishing my profile, I sat back as the predatory messages from uninhibited men hiding behind computers started rolling in!

The messages ran the gamut from either ignorant, creepy, or very creepy, but nearly every message I got included some sort of comment about the two questions above. Like:

“You’re a feminist? So, you want to castrate me?”

Yes. But just you, specifically.

“I don’t mind feminism as long as it’s not about bringing down men and isn’t in poor taste.”

Awwww. From the mouths’ of bros.

Of the 60 or so messages I got in the 48 hours before I deleted my profile, only two were from people I would consider dating. When I replied to one of those guys, I asked him his experience on OKC. He said the thing that bothered him the most was how many women wore some sort of fake mustache in their pictures. I was all, “uggh, totes, I feel you. My least favorite thing about guys on OKC is kinda like that, except instead of fake mustaches it’s the sexually suggestive comments about your looks that make you feel like an object to be used instead of an actual person, LOL!!”

I started to consider deleting my profile about 12 hours into creating it, but figured I’d keep an open mind and see if anyone good popped up. By hour 48, there was still no person of interest, BUT there was one guy who messaged me that would definitely be a person of interest to the police if I was murdered!

His message was simple and to the point.

“How many shoes do you own and do you like to cuddle?”

And with that, I deleted my profile.

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I would not recommend OKCupid to single women unless you’re interested in the caliber of men that can’t afford Match.com.

If that is your thing, my advice would be to create a profile then discuss with your roommate or next of kin what photo you would like shown on the evening news after your inevitable disappearance. Tell them that anything from your Facebook profile picture album is pre-approved. If you’re just missing have them choose a photo that looks like you, yet still flattering. Something that really makes people want to find you. Now, if they’ve already discovered your charred remains and can only identify you by your dental records– go nuts!! Use the picture from the week after that lucky bout of food poisoning. Remember? Your hair was blonde and you still went tanning. It looks nothing like you now, but let that be the way the world remembers you. You deserve it.

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Vote for me for “Best Lifestyle Blog” and “Funniest Blog”

Dating in LA: Scooter

Scooter really is his name. Maybe I should have made up an alias for him, but honestly, the name is like, 80% of the story.

So, the two of us were texting before our blind date, and naturally I dropped that I had a blog because, truth be told, this thing is a real dick magnet. Sorry, for the crude phrasing, but there is no better way to put it. This blog is the Greased Lightening of digital media.

Scooter asked if I was going to blog about him.

Although I was entering into this date with an open mind, I knew somewhere deep down the odds were that I would end up blogging about a blind date with a guy named Scooter.

And here we are.

I have no choice. You know who did have a choice? Scooter’s parents. They did not have to name their kid Scooter, practically forcing me to blog about him.

But like I told Scooter, I only blog about people if you give me something to blog about. Bless his heart, he thought I meant if we had a great date, but I set him straight and let him know that this was all in his hands. I only blog about a guy when he gives me 400+ words worth of material (See: 700 words on The Bicycle Thief). Unfortunately for Scooter, I’ve already passed 200 words and I haven’t even made it to the restaurant yet.

Scoots and I met at a restaurant in West Hollywood, where the waitresses’ uniforms looked like they were in a production of Newsies at Saint Agatha’s School for Wayward Girls. It was both adorable and uncomfortable.

To get the conversation rolling, I told Scootie-Toots that he looked like Peter from Homeland. 

MV5BMjEyNzk5MjIwNV5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTcwMDA5MzM3OA@@._V1._SX600_SY800_With a cold, dead stare he said, “no, I don’t.” (SOMETHING PETER FROM HOMELAND WOULD SAY).

It was as if I just told him he looked like Mandy Patinkin.

“But it’s a compliment,” I told him. Maybe he thought I meant Mandy Patinkin? “He’s the young guy who works with Carrie on season 2.”

“No, I know who you’re talking about, I just don’t look like him. We’re just both the same age with dark hair. That would be like if I told you that you look like Emma Stone just because you’re both pale red heads.”

K, SCOOTER!

At this point, I’m a little miffed. Obviously, I look like Lindsay Lohan circa Herbie Fully Loaded.

“Right, but I don’t look like Emma Stone and you do look like the guy from Homeland.”

From there the conversation only went down hill. We moved on from him vaguely insulting my skin tone to him flat out pooping on the city where I basically grew up.

“So, where did you go to school?” Scoots-boots inquired.

“Emerson College in Boston.”

“Oh, I spent about 6 months there for a TV show I was producing… Terrible city.”

“You know that those Boston Marathon bombings occurred in Boston, right? Like, two days ago.”

“Ya, it doesn’t make it any less of hell hole.”

It should be noted that Scooter was saying all of this in a pin striped blazer. He was saying this in a pin striped blazer, and this whole time his name was SCOOTER.

Finally, the bill comes, and I made a VERY half-hearted courtesy reach for the check. He looks at it and says to me, “guess what our waitress’s name is.”

“Melissa.”

“Worse, Victoria.”

SCOOTER SCOOTER SCOOTER SCOOTER SCOOTER SCOOTER SCOOTER SCOOTER SCOOTER SCOOOOOOOOTERRRRRRR!!!!!

Victoria, if you are reading this, you were perfectly lovely, and those suspenders looked darling on you.

Scooter, if you are reading this, you can’t have that poor of an attitude AND be named Scooter.

Razor Scooter and I have not spoken since.

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