Best of My Haters 2015

A dispatch from the “discount bin jizz receptacle.”

If I learned anything from white dudes portrayed by eggs on Twitter this year, it is that you gotta hear both sides to every argument (and then debate them on the argument without compensation because your attention and energy is their birthright and it isn’t like you have a job or something.) So a few days ago, I wrote up my Year in Review about my favorite things that I wrote and that people generally enjoyed in 2015. But reader, you were misled. I failed to mention that my work generated toil, strife, and unrest among my growing legions of haters.

This year, my haters spared no rhetorical expense when it came to writing unpaid screeds on wildly popular internet sites like Wordpress.com blogs and nested forum threads. No one hates like my haters, here are just a few examples:

They are wordsmiths:

They ask the important questions:

They offer sex and journalism tips:

They worry about my (non-existent) veganism and my babies:

They fix my mind with the help of Paula Cole:

However some hate better than others, so this is just a partial list of the best and brightest among them from the year of our (jizz)lord, two thousand and fifteen.

6. When a Catholic priest hated on my credentials on his church’s blog:

This one makes it in because it isn’t often I get sass from the clergy. But when I wrote an article about how much I love Christianity but cannot partake in its practices for the Washington Post, he brought out the old “journalist of sorts” as a lil’ baby neg. Sometimes the best haters are subtle like that. Then he goes on to suggest that I shouldn’t write about it because I’m a sex journalist, failing to read the part about how I was a long-time practicing Christian and hold a Master’s in Religion from Yale. I sent a polite correction about my credentials but a little thing like the truth wouldn’t stop this hater.

5. This puzzling email from an ex.

I kicked my 2015 off with this buh-last from the past whom I had not seen in over five years sending me an email and about whom I have never written a story. This makes the list because it is couched in mystery and for the line “I don’t give a shit if you feel,” because frankly, he’s saying what so many dudes are thinking anyway.

4. Karl’s helpful comment on my personal website.

What I like about Karl is that he leads with a compliment, like a goddamn gentleman. That makes the burn of him calling me crazy singe that much deeper, because I know that it is coming from a place of care. I like the highly specific and cruel suggestion that I should move to Milwaukee but he didn’t rank higher on this list because he didn’t research me thoroughly enough to know that I churn out more than Neurosis Porn. I also churn out science reporting, Harry Styles fan fiction, and an abundance of selfies featuring this face that isn’t getting any younger.

3. The eagle-eyed forum contributors who spotted my doppelgangers.

My haters got a lil’ creative and a lil’ sassy on a pick-up artist forum titled, “Tinder slut undergoing emotional pain from community critiques.” Using a rare tool called “Google Image Search” they managed to find photos of me that I willingly placed on the internet and proceeded to compare my looks in them to various creatures.

Exhibit A:

Conclusion: Boys and girls can look kinda the same sometimes?

Exhibit B:

Conclusion: I have always thought of myself as more of a koala or a goldfish when I compare myself to animals but this bird is fresh as hell too. I think maybe he’s calling me skinny, that hater. Little does he know that’s all I ever want to be called for the rest of my life.

Exhibit C:

Conclusion: I don’t know who this is but she looks like the kind of broad that would get the cops called on her for playing Gwar at all hours while shooting meth made in a gas station bathroom and then biting her arresting officers nose off. Which is all to say: I should be so lucky.

2. “The Egonomics Of Bitterbitches: Yes, Homely Skanks Are Using Tinder To Get Attention. No, Not From Desirable Men.”

This 1718 word literary analysis of my story “The Dickonomics of Tinder” was truly a tour de force, particularly since mine was only 1679 words long. It begins, “This scorched-id ashvomit from a bitter, unattractive androgyne is representative of a lot of spoiled word salad written by emotionally shattered Millennials,” and it just gets more exciting from there. Though the close reading of the text is great, it is the 498 comments that really made this somethin’ else:

She has the dead eyes of a prostitute. At least a prostitute would have some money at the end of the day, and she has a dead soul and nothing to show for it. The fruits of radical feminism. (editor’s note: I was a prostitute and I am loaded, but thanks for playing.)

That miserable cunt will soon call the age of fucking in Ikea golden What is coming is going to be much worse, total decay in which word ugly will have to replaced with another one not yet existing yet powerfull enough to describe the state of total dissolution.

I feel sorry for her as well, the way you would feel sorry for a soldier who is deliriously stuffing his intestines back into his abdominal cavity before he passes out of hypovolemic shock and dies. (emphasis MINE)

1. “A Yale-Educated Feminist Calls Herself a Morally Vacuous Harlot”

This 1780 word historical tour of my writing and tweets takes the top spot because it gets straight to getting quickly to the point that I’m “a godless degenerate.” But even before that, the author throws in my Twitter handle so that a fresh batch of haters can holler at your girl on Twitter. He goes on:

To summarize, Ms. Massey is a drug-addled, mentally ill ex-stripper who has had the privilege of being educated first at the prestigious private New York University (annual tuition $46,170) and subsequently at elite Yale University (annual tuition $47,600), so that we might estimate she has consumed somewhere in excess of $300,000 in order to become a freelance writer.

Now I got scholarships and Yale Divinity costs way less than Yale undergrad but like, fair points otherwise. The only thing he might hate more than me is Yale Divinity School though:

The deities worshipped at Yale Divinity School are a pantheon of bloody idols, chief among which are Equality and Progress. Devotees of the Cult of Social Justice celebrate their perverse beliefs with rituals involving fornication, sodomy and abortion, occasionally organizing protests to demand that U.S. taxpayers fund their heathenish rites. No Christian would dare go near such an ivy-covered Temple of Satanic Wickedness…

He throws in a few of my tweets, which was actually pretty cool because my cat gets jealous when I hog the spotlight and because in one I am literally drinking champagne in a sequin bikini top at The Plaza Hotel at a lingerie party with my hot friends being the coolest person alive:

He muses:

Is this Yale-educated woman too stupid to see that her compulsive promiscuity — a lifelong habit now abetted by advanced technologies of contraception and dating apps — is the basic cause of her problems? How does her whorish “sex-positive” feminism contribute anything to “true gender equality”? Yet what exactly does she imagine “true gender equality” would look like, if ever we were to achieve it?

This hater isn’t going to let a little thing like the fact that the very article that got him going is one in which I denounce sex positivism in saying, “In practice, sex positivism is an ideology that says, ‘What’s the big deal?’ about sex, countering a narrative which sees it as inherently negative and shameful. But it dismisses our reply: the big deal is that when we sexually open ourselves up, access to a little bit of social capital is closed off from us.” Haters, they are just going to hate, okay?

The 361 comments on this bad boy are nested funny so I haven’t tried to look at them but I am eternally grateful for this one I caught early:

I have been calling Keith my demonic familiar ever since because facts are facts:

And there you have ‘em! The best of my haters, near and far. Some knew early it would be a banner year for me, when I left my job at BuzzFeed and my soothsaying colleagues Krutika and Alexis foretold it:

These women are wise and good

If you made it this far, thanks for coming on this journey with me. As always, it was a great time to be a woman on the internet! Now back to work I go!