Steph Not Stephanie

Ruh-roh. Steph likes someone, which means the blog posts are getting scarcer because said someone may or may not have found the blog (I can see search terms, whomever ‘Stephanie stoop blog’ may be … just sayin’). Looks like it’s time to dredge up some old messages!

I’ve touched base on the shenanigans people send via OK Cupid, Tinder, and the rest of the motley crew of online dating apps/sites/shitshows in past posts, but they’re always a good time, so let’s revisit, shall we?

Let’s start with broski number one here:

Listen, I know a lot of people on Tinder are just looking to hookup, and if someone messages me at 1am, I don’t actually think they want to play board games. With that being said, after the eleventy-billionth ‘wanna hookup/have fun/bang?’ message, I decided to actually have fun with it. In all fairness, he took it well and played along. And before you get your panties all in a bunch and tell me I should expect it on Tinder, it’s everywhere. This sort of thing transpires on all the sites, at coffee shops, while I walk down the street, fucking everywhere. Random street harassment sidebar: what do the dudes who holler out their car think is going to happen? I drop everything to chase them down and hop in at the next intersection? Idon’tfuckingthinkso.

Broski number two was decidedly less fun:

Bro. No. You are not being complimentary. You are not being clever. I don’t know what this is. This. I just do not get this. Who told guys that this is how you interact with women? In fact, who told anyone that this is how you interact with another human being? This ranks up there with the dude who opened with saying I looked like I ‘needed a mouthful.’ I know I’ve mentioned him before, but it bears repeating because what the actual fuck? I have to assume these guys interact with women at some point throughout their day and manage not to be complete neanderthals (I can’t imagine telling the TTC driver you like her rack will end well for you), yet put them in any sort of dating/whatever scenario, and they forget how to word. It’s like they don’t realize the people on the receiving end of these messages are, you know, people. Would you kiss your mother with that mouth?

Now, because I love you, and because nice things are nice, I’m not going to end with the fuckwittery above. This is how it’s done:

Ermergerd! It’s possible to say something nice to a woman without using the word tits! Complimenting a girl on something other than her boobs/body? Will wonders never cease! I’m not saying we don’t want to be told we’re pretty once in a while (in the right circumstances, it can make our night as we stumble home from the bar in heels on Thursday evening), but a little creativity never hurts. Now my witty self has a date with the stoop. Cheers!