Hey, Are You Single?

That was the subject line of an email that just popped into my inbox from a company called Zoosk.*

As a copywriter (with experience writing subject lines), I commend them. Questions are always a smart tactic and touching upon consumers’ pain points usually results in high open rates.

But, as a woman, NAH.

This is something I’ve been struggling with recently. I, myself, have no need (or interest) in letting someone new into my life, but the world around me seems to think it’s necessary. Every single day, I’m bombarded by messaging that suggests my life is incomplete unless I’m in a relationship.

Even my friends play into this messaging. Constantly demanding that I try out dating apps or drunkenly informing me that I am doing something wrong by not actively pursuing the D.

I have tried out some apps, but it was really hard to stay interested in anything that resulted in a twentysomething boy asking me if my parents had named me because of Helen Keller.

Great pick up line.

Anyway, that’s not the point. The point is that I’m pretty freaking happy alone. Okay, I know this blog makes it seem otherwise, but when I’m not sending out emo vibes into the internet, I’ve got what you’d call a sunny disposition on life.

I’d like to also point out that I derive no greater pleasure from anything other than escaping to a quiet corner in a café to read or write by myself.

Don’t get me wrong. I definitely love socializing, but does that have to have a dude involved?

Of course, I understand the fact that, like, biologically I’m going to be driven to reproduce (Ew. Reproduce. How terrible is that word? And can we talk about the pregnancy belly button for a second??? NO THANK YOU! I do not need any part of me to pop out). Still, I know that a part of me will be hoping to make a baby. But I’m pretty sure that it isn’t strong enough to convince me to actually go through with it.

Then again, even if I did find someone who got the libido shimmying, I’d be terrified if they were actually interested in me. Anyone who would stay interested someone who enjoys twelve-hour Lord of the Rings marathons (extended editions, of course), talks about pooping on a regular basis, and pukes before turning into a zombie at music festivals is seriously unhinged…

Not to mention the fact that I have serious doubts about anyone who could stay attracted to this:

So here’s my open letter to the world around me: let’s reclaim the word “Spinster!” I’m ready to own the fact that I’m a crazy cat lady at the age of 26. (Sorry, mom).

And Zoosk, to answer your question, Hellz yeah I’m single AF!! and I plan on staying that way. PEACE.



How I Found Love on the Streets of San Francisco (and Why Facebook Should Take Notice)

So here’s something new.

Facebook now gives me little notifications to let me know when my friends get engaged.

Why am writing a post about this?

Well, let me tell you why.

I am writing about this new feature because it actually brings a little comic relief to my life. During my social networking I am now able to see all of the people who are progressing in their relationships. People who have found love – or whatever it is that makes people want to get married.

How is this comical?

It’s comical because I am SO, so so so so so (I can’t even say ‘so’ enough times in this post) far from anything even close to an engagement.

It’s comical because, since moving to the city, I have been hit on a total of 5 times and 4 of those 5 times have been by homeless men.

For your (and my) entertainment let’s go through them.

1. Trash to Treasure

As I walk from my house through the Panhandle I hear a loud, manly yell.

“Hey! I like what you’re wearing! YOU LOOK GOOD.”

I, in turn, smile but just keep walking since I have no interest in someone who cat calls at me. I then am hit with the angry shout of,


Ah, yes. This is when I realize that the gentleman who has been admiring me is none other than the homeless man I saw a while back. As I turn to look I see that he has already forgotten me and gone back to digging through the trash bin.

I guess my beauty is fleeting.

2. Aryan Ask-out

As I head home from the bus stop and walk past a liquor store on Haight street, a young neo-natzi spots me and the sharp black tattoos across his face twist as he grins.

“Hey!” he says as he moves closer, “Wanna kick it?”

As difficult as it is for me to refuse such an eloquent line, I somehow manage to rush past without looking at him.

3. Drake Debonair

On my way to work there is a man who sits on Market street. As I walk by he grins with mostly gums and says “absolutely beautiful!”

If he can think I’m absolutely beautiful when I’m chillin’ with no makeup on, then I MUST be gorgeous right?


4. Bus Beau

And finally, the most recent of these times:

I am on the bus with a visiting friend and her friend from school. I let them sit next to each other and I sit across from them facing the back of the bus. A tall gentleman, skinny and obviously unhealthy staggers onto the bus. He mumbles to himself as he makes his way to the back of the bus and slams his body unsteadily onto a seat.

He then precedes to talk to himself about a variety of different things and the conversation seems to be going very well until one of his selves notices that he is on a bus.

“Is this bus going to Haight?!” he cries melodramatically.

The boy beside him nods.

“Good! That’s where I got to go.”

He then goes back to the discussion he was having with himself.

During this time I am talking to my friends about dancing and places to go in the city. I jokingly do a couple fist bumps to explain the kinds of dancing at certain places.

This grabs the man’s attention and informs himself “did you see that? She’s dancing! Having a good time!”

I then realize that I’m going to have to tone things down and become extremely interested in what’s happening outside.

“Are we at Haight?” he asks and I continue to observe the road outside the bus’ window.

He asks again and I can tell he’s looking right at me and wishing that I’d answer him. When I don’t he mumbles “beautiful.” Then, when I don’t respond, “YOU’RE BEAUTIFUL.”

I am still not turning to look at him so he says a couple things to himself, takes out a tearing wallet, puts it back in his pocket then leans forward to my friends.

“I don’t think she can hear me,” he tells them, “but you gotta tell your friend I think she’s beautiful. Actually, I guess I can tell her when I get off the bus.”

Sure enough, as he exited the vehicle he stopped in front of me and with a slurred smile said, “I just gotta say. You’re a beautiful girl.”


Consider my self-esteem lifted.

So thank you, Facebook. While I fend off my homeless suitors and search for a somewhat sane beau, you show me all my acquaintances who have found true love – or at least someone they like enough to do the deed with over and over again.

Super cool. Maybe I’ll develop an app that I can click to share the amount of times someone rolls over on the street and thinks I’m pretty.

What do you think about that Facebook? Eh? Next trillion dollar idea!