Why I Won’t Date Average Looking Man-Boys Anymore

When it comes to dating as a mildly attractive 20-something in New York, I have my fair pick of average looking man-boys who are more misogynistic and narcissistic than kind and humble. And I’ve dated many of these scalawags. In fact, I’ve had no problem securing dates with these feeble minded parasites.

In some ways I enjoy the dates because I know exactly what I’m getting. Drinks, never dinner. Then they offer to pay but are relived when I suggest we split. It’s all capped off, usually, by a mediocre, forgettable kiss in which he’ll have used too much tongue and too much saliva. And then, like Sam finally returning to the Shire, I get in my Uber and breathe a sigh of relief that I’ll never have to see him again.

But now I’m saying “no more.” I’m tired of these average man-boys taking up too much of my time. Sure, drinks are nice. But the conversation is always sorely lacking. Rarely do they understand my Harry Potter reference. They’re never able to keep up with my wit, let alone go toe to toe with me on anything related to pop culture or current events. It’s hard, being so nerdy and cultured at the same time and I’m tired of having to deal with average man-boys who only want to explain sports to me… or tell me how “actually” females are pretty equal… or discuss their gym regimen…. or they don’t talk and we succumb to an awkward silence that eats away at my soul second by second.

It’s time to put my foot down. I’m officially swearing off uncultured swine and will be, from here on out, dating hot guys. If I’m going to date someone uncultured, I want them to be an uncultured stallion, not swine.

I’m tired of showing up to dates being the better looking one, having to carry conversation on my back, and then have to ignore rabid texts to hang again. I want to be the one ghosted on. I want to be the one who struggles for conversation because there is nothing I could possibly say to an Adonis that would measure up in his eyes. I want to feel so insecure that I go to the bathroom twelve times to check my pit stains, my hair, my breathe, and my lipgloss only to know that nothing I do will remotely make him see me as anything other than a charity case.

I want to date someone so hot that I’m wet before I even meet him; that just the picture of him from his dating profile is enough to send me over the edge. I want to date someone so hot, with such a lack of grasp on the English language, that the silence between us is golden, not sour. I want to date someone so hot that cuddling with his body is more like cuddling with a block of marble. Someone so hot that my self-esteem is the lowest it’s ever been.

I want to date someone so hot that the NYPost will write an article entitled: How Did This Woman Land This Living Greek God?

No, the more I think about it, the more I don’t really want to date someone hot. I don’t want to date someone average either. I just want to date someone who doesn’t make me want to consistently use the upside down smiley emoji after my friends ask how the date went. I think if anyone, in this day and age, can find someone they love and are attracted to then that’s a gift. And you should hold onto them.

Dating someone because of the way they look is like eating a Big Mac for nutritional value — it doesn’t compute. Sure, being attracted to someone is a key component to a relationship but it’s not the end all be all. And to say that you’re much happier dating “uglier,” normal people than “hotter,” model-type people is disgusting and makes you look less attractive to everyone else around you. It also just signifies that you are, in fact, an asshole.

So to the man who thinks that he’s a martyr for giving up dating hot girls and “settling” for his 5'2 non-runway model fiancee (who is gorgeous, btw) may I just say a sincere and heartfelt: fuck you.