I Went On A Date

There are many types of people in this world. Some are good; some are bad; Some are so uncontroversial you cannot categorize them as good or bad- they are just there.

In regards to the bad- you know those people who will jump at the opportunity to complain about anything and everything? You could dangle a solution right over their heads, and they would choose to ignore it- just so they could continue to complain. The general population tends to be in agreement that these are the worst sorts of people. So I am pleased to announce that I fall into this category.

             I consider the act of complaining to be one of America’s pastimes that I have really developed a passion for. So I really wanted to share this passion with you all. Among my favorite topics are: 

People with trust funds:

I enjoy talking about how if I had a trust fund, there would be no incentive for me to make anything of myself, and therefore I am actually the lucky one. Those poor trust fund children don’t have impending homelessness to spur them into action!

I do not mean this at all. No part of me feels #blessed to not have a trust fund. All I want is a 3 million dollar Malibu condo where I can sit with my 5 dollar Starbucks latte every morning, pretend to write prolific things, but actually tan all day long. After 20 years people will still be inquiring about the novel I have been “writing.” It will be like the Boyhood of novels- a new chapter for every year that passes.

Liz and John I love you, but it is an injustice/possibly a crime against humanity that I do not have a trust fund.

Red Heads:
Having narrowly escaped gingerdom myself, I have a whole slew of theories about our flaming haired counterparts. As most of you know, both of my brothers have red hair. How I escaped the womb with my brown locks is a mystery, but I thank God every day.

I am of the opinion that red heads are genetically inferior creatures. Haven't you noticed they are always the ones with the special allergies? They can't stand in the sun for more than ten minutes without burning, and they are always catching every virus or illness circulating around the school. 

Given my family history with red heads, I have concluded that the only way I can safely escape adulthood without baby carrot tops bobbing around is by marrying someone with darker features. As if catching a husband wasn't already going to be hard enough, now the pool of potentials has been cut by half. Latinos and Italians- I'm ready for ya. Let's eliminate this trait once and for all. 

Couples:

I have been told that the existence of couples in this world does have its benefits. I can’t seem to think of anything good that has come out of a couples’ existence other than myself. But we are all entitled to our own opinions.

Couples bother me for the obvious reasons such as their obnoxious displays of affection and apparent obsession for each other. But the real reason I hate couples is because I cannot look at a couple without conducting a full-scale investigation of their “relationship.” The investigation begins with the obvious- do these people physically look like they belong together, or is someone clearly settling in the appearance department? I then try to dissect their body language in an attempt to figure out if they are actually happy with one another. I want to know how they met, whose cheating, what their dynamic is, and what they see in one another. I even wonder the stupid stuff- what shows do they watch together? Are they sushi people? Or do they prefer lo mein takeout from the dingy place down the street? If they could both buy any car in the world, what cars would they choose? Would they name their child after a birthstone? These are all important things. I complain about couples not because I am single, but because analyzing every pair of people I see is mentally taxing.

Ultimately though, I think my real disdain for couples arguably stems from the fact that divorce is so prevalent in our society. This leads me to believe that 60 percent of all of couples are faking it anyways, so stop flouncing around together on the streets like you are happy with one another in an attempt to make the single feel as if there is something wholesome and beautiful missing from their lives when you are really in a torrential pit of misery and hate one another.  Did that sound contemptuous? It was.

                So speaking of couples, as promised I will give you the highlights of the Hinge date I went on. I went into the experience half hoping the guy would unsuccessfully try and kidnap me. That could have been the beginning of a long and successful career writing Hollywood action movies. But no, my Hinge suitor was disappointingly un-criminal.

We had a 9 o’clock meeting time at a bar in Brooklyn. As the 8:30 departure from my dorm swiftly approached, I started sending out mass text messages, most of which said something along these lines.

I figured that in the off chance I died, the police would at least know where to start. I also felt the need to voice my concerns directly to him, just so that we were on the same page in terms of me thinking he could be a serial killer. 

 Because he too thought I was potentially a psychopath, I figured the coast was clear enough for me to actually attend my Hinge Date.

Unfortunately from here on out the story gets much more dull. There were no stabbings, slave dungeons, or kidnappings. I have yet to write an action piece because the date proved to be well, a date. Anonymous and I remain friends, but I think we agree (both of us write) that it would have been ideal if one of us could have had multiple personality disorder or something just crazy enough to leave the other person alive, but scathed enough to have a fabulous story.

Now that I have returned to Chapel Hill, my Hinge life has come to an abrupt halt. Thus ends my flirtation with online dating, and to be quite honest, dating in general. Do dates exist in Chapel Hill?

So until next time.

-F