This is what guys wrote in their online dating profiles that sparked my interest.
It’s a new year, and you’re resolved to find love. Why not try online dating (again)? A well-written profile turns me on because I’m a sapiosexual.
(Just kidding. In my book, anyone who uses “sapiosexual,” “polymath,” “autodidact,” “cosmopolitan,” “partner in crime,” “supersmart,” “vaccinated” and “unicorn” in their profile is going to be automatically left swiped.)
Selecting your profile photos comes with its own set of rules. The tiger selfies, the shot of you doing a handstand at Machu Picchu, the picture of you naked-tractor-riding — these pics will not get you a date. Be reasonable.
A sexy walking tour of Downtown Berkeley with a BDSM option
Last year I had a great idea for Valentine’s Day: a “sexy” walking tour of Berkeley. My (now ex-) boyfriend wasn’t into it, and my dream was deferred. What the fuck, right? It’s true.
This year I’m single. What the fuck? It’s true. I’d be thrilled if some lovebirds out there followed my dirty-walking-tour route and Tinglered, tubbed and tarped it up.
Start at Missouri Lounge (#1) because they are the self-proclaimed kings of “cheap and smooth.” I don’t know what you like to drink, but I think tequila shots are a good idea. Sausage on your mind? Order a “Naughty Hoagie.” You’re here for some dirty talk about what to purchase at the next stop. For example:
Partner 1: I want to dress as Lumpy Space Princess from Adventure Time and have you pleasure me from behind with an impossibly adorable Japanese vibrator.
Some bars to check out if you’re trying to get a head
After spending time in SOMA, I often ponder one of life’s greatest mysteries: why do so many bars in San Francisco have the same stuffed heads? The only logical answer is that hipsters love taxidermy. To wit: remember the anthropomorphic mouse craze? Remember the first time you stepped into Paxton Gate in the Mission?
I like macabre décor, and I’m from a small town in Oregon where huntin’, fishin’ and muddin’ are major pastimes. Because I enjoy a good dive bar with real taxidermy, I’ve captured a range of San Francisco’s many mounts. Behold the myriad local dives where you can gawk at large mammal heads.
Most of the time, looking at penises turns me on. When I don’t have the real thing in my face, I sometimes peruse the Casual Encounters section of Craigslist. I browse with no intention of actually responding.
Once I saw an ad for a guy who would pay money for someone to berate him for having a tiny dick. (Which is actually a relatively common fetish, though paying for it might be less common.) It sounded easy enough. That made me think, are there others whom I would actually respond to? So I started browsing. And here’s what I discovered.
The day of reckoning has finally come. Liberal public enemy #1 is about to officially enter the White House. Whether you’re one of millions afraid to lose their healthcare or you’re from one of the many groups (races, religions, genders, etc.) that Trump has targeted, there’s enough anxiety to go around.
That’s why I’ve thrown together a list of ways you can channel your Trump rage into something a little more productive.
After the election and throughout the holidays, I drank a lot. Red-wine hangovers, whiskey stupors, beer bloat — like Trump voters, I made unwise choices I regretted later. My friend Heather and I are being teetotalers this month. Screw you, peer pressure! I’m going drop some pounds and not misunderstand 90 percent of Rogue One: A Star Wars Story because a flask is present.
After it came out, I posted the article on the OkCupid subreddit as a way of gauging what other online daters thought of the experience. Other than some frustrated rock climbers calling me a “condescending bitch,” forum users had some whacky, occasionally offensive and often spot-on observations about life in the Bay Area. Here are some observations that reveal what the rest of the world thinks of us:
I had no qualms about going on a date with a Trump voter, but things soured fast when the subject of race came up.
I try to be open minded when it comes to dating. I’ve dated men of all different body types, career paths and ages — including one guy a couple of decades my senior. Friends see pictures of my ex-boyfriends and accuse me of fucking with them. Maybe that’s because many of my friends aren’t as amenable. There’s my friend Lucia, who is 5 feet tall and won’t date anyone under 6 feet. Natalie won’t date anyone who lives over the Richmond Bridge or through the Caldecott Tunnel. Sure, I have my preferences — has to have integrity, can’t be a rock climber — but ultimately I’m looking for someone who pots my honey, be he Tiburonian or hairy backed.
So why not go out with a Trump voter with a shirtless selfie?