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Friday, May 13, 2005
Bad Advice
If you think you're the next Dan Savage or Carrie Bradshaw, make sure you don't sound like Mel Tillis. Here are this week's offenders, an idiot and an asshole.
First, the idiot. Is This a Date? [via lindsayism & others ...] by Rachel Kramer Bussel was printed in the Village Voice and asks the question, "Is this a date?":
I'm fine with just being friends; it's the ambiguity that drives me mad. The most frustrating part is how quickly I become enamored. I'll admit to dirty daydreams about throwing down with each of them. I want to know what makes these smart, cute guys tick; going only halfway is such a tease. I try to contain myself, but it becomes a balancing act between admitting my infatuation and possibly earning a second, real date and protecting myself emotionally.
A common pitfall for wannabe sex columnists seems to be a complete lack of empathy for both their readers and people seeking advice. Rachel Kramer Bussel's take on every situation is "how doesn't his affect ME?" and her take on men lacks depth. No wonder she can't get past the first date. And it's hard to believe anyone could seriously ask that question after all the "He's Just Not That Into You" marketing hype we've endured over the past six months. Clearly, from the article, the guys in the "maybe dates" described just "aren't that into her" but she's too thick to notice:
We sat very close and the mood was intimate, but that was it; he walked me home and I haven't heard from him since.
Wow, that "never heard from him again" is such an ambiguous signal; what's with men, anyways?
Meanwhile, broken hearts are for assholes as some anonymous man demonstrates in Male Seeking Dating Tips, appearing in this week's NOW:
So what is my market value now? Have I depreciated? Should I invest in high or low risk, "high" being a hot, horny, psycho girl and "low" being a stable, sweet, long-term businesswoman?
When it comes to being shallow, Bussel is a lightweight next to this guy. Read the column, there's more of that drivel and worse:
On the ride home, I hear my father's words: "Hang with a cripple, learn how to limp." Am I ready to learn to limp?
What makes the writer especially annoying is how he throws his ego into as many paragraphs as possible, not-so-subtly making it clear that he is a Somebody:
... he tells me to try Internet dating. I'm skeptical, to say the least, and more than a little scared. I have a very high-profile career, and I don't know if I want secretaries across the city gawking at my headshots.
See? 'Cause secretaries are losers who are beneath him!
That last sentence nails him as a true asshole: he feels the need to tease us with the knowledge that he's "very high-profile" but he's too chickenshit to a) sign up for internet dating, and b) sign his name to a tame column that isn't a big deal and doesn't spill anything personal. But he provides some concrete evidence as well:
A few ladies later, they look at me like an enemy of all female kind, reminding them of guys in their past who didn't hang around. So now I'm not only single and have no female "wing persons," but I'm sleazy, too!
If your women friends are no longer willing to help you hook up, that's a damn clear signal. The column ends on a dismal note:
Then, in the high of all this online foreplay, it happens. I have a date!
Isn't that awful? Some poor woman (but not a lowly secretary!) is actually going on a date with the jerk. Or maybe it won't be a date. Who can tell?
12:25 PM
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