Dating waste of time
And running–including, recently, a marathon in Antarctica.
Here, it helps to define what Cantlin means by “dating.” Cantlin doesn’t eschew all male romantic company.
When Cantlin does spend an evening or two with a man, “It’s based on convenience and, I guess, coincidence, really.” She says that she feels she meets higher-quality men simply by pursuing her interests anyway.
Cantlin has tons of friends getting married, and a few already getting divorced.
Obviously, it is not a total waste of your time or resources, because there are a few things that these failed relationships can teach you about the other person, love, life…more importantly about yourself.
There has got to be a better way to meet people, people. Unless you know what I was just thinking, in which case, e-mail me. Do I overshare a little too much and pick Edgar Allan Eeyore? Or more importantly, who am I when it comes to who I want someone else to think I am, so they will contact me, go out with me, and eventually touch my genitals. I made sure to pepper everything with winking non-sequiturs and casual attempts at pop profundity.
Not to mention I feel the guys on Tinder come off too strong about looking for sex and the guys on Bumble don’t really seem interested in meeting someone like me.
I figured OKCupid worked well in the past but it seems they’ve adopted all the negatives of the swipe apps with none of the benefits.
The extent of my research began and ended with me signing up for OK Cupid, and failing to finish my profile.
There’s an 85% chance of boobs forecast in my love life. Possibly, if I was in prison, an Alaskan crab fisherman or a morbidly obese shut-in so humongous I had to wash myself with a Sham Wow stapled to a broom handle, I could see the value in such sites. I don’t need a middleman brokering a get together between the potential woman of my dreams and my own abilities to self-sabotage and humiliate myself. This might or might not be a totally uninformed opinion.
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I couldn’t even bring myself to pick a pseudonym, which just seemed like the first of many lies required to meet anyone.