Why I Will Die Alone

Want to know the fastest way to confirm both that you are a horrible, shallow person and that you will die alone? Try online dating. My new plan is dying alone and/or asking people I know to introduce me to people I should know.

In the meantime, allow me to reduce an already insultingly reductionist exercise to snarky charts about the guys you will swipe left on at an alarming pace.

I’m not opposed to guys being in shape. If we’re being honest, it’s a plus. But these are the guys whose physique is out of proportion in a way that suggests they’re one step away from oiling up with bronzer and walking across a stage in a Speedo.

Obviously, if you’re a dad and have kids, they should be your top priority.

Jesus may be first in your heart, but Jesus doesn’t need someone to pick him up from school or be in the audience for the play.

I appreciate knowing of your dedication to your family and your faith, because that makes it easier to just keep going. I’m not going to sign up knowing there’s a ceiling at the 3rd spot on your list.

I read your profile to learn about you. When you include prescriptive instructions for me—no duck face, don’t order salad, be trim, be a lady—I thank Artemis above that you outed yourself as a men’s rights activist and I swipe left. Hard swipe. As quickly as possible.

With the number of people who list oil & gas specialist as their occupation, I’m starting to worry that the economy in these parts is not nearly as diversified as I’d been lead to believe. Maybe, however, we really do need that many oil & gas specialists.

The whole fish thing needs its own post.

I am at my most gorgeous—my hair finally holding the perfect amount of wave, my eyes burning iridescent blue-grey, my cheeks softly flushed—standing in front of the bathroom mirror after I’ve brushed my teeth and washed my face at night. Even thought those are some of the most amazing photos ever taken of me, however, I do not post them. Because I am in the bathroom.

I’ve let a few bathroom selfies slide, but they were photo number 5 or 6, after I’d seen sufficient evidence that you a) leave the house on the regular, and b) know other people well enough that they’ll take a share a photo of you.

When your only photo is a bathroom selfie? Come on dude, if you’re not even going to bother, why should the rest of us?