You know when you’re in a job interview and the person asks you a totally weird or random question that you didn’t expect? There’s that first moment when your brain is trying to process it; that terrifying moment of ‘holy shit, I literally have nothing to say’? Yeah, that’s happening to me right now.
You guys, I can’t think of anything to write about. I have approximately 4 different drafts that I’ve started on various subjects, I just can’t come up with anything interesting, insightful, or witty to say about them.
Logically I can (at least partially) contribute my massive writer’s block to the fact that I’m out of the dating game at the moment. This means I’m not messaging back and forth with new dudes, going on first dates, having guys cancel on me/fade away/misplace their cars, or participating in any of the general fuckery that makes for dating blog gold.
I’m not gonna lie, it’s effing awesome. Believe me, I am NOT complaining. But for the purpose of keeping this blog going? Not so awesome. The thing is, I definitely still have past experiences to talk about, and I also have a whole new set of experiences to draw on, freak out over, and write about. AND YET, save for my thoughts on last night’s Game of Thrones ending (awesome except now I’m worried for Tyrion–K, what have you done to me??) and pictures of baby corgis occasionally drifting on through…
my mind is comically blank.
Meanwhile I keep picturing you faithful readers coming here, looking for a laugh, and being like,
via: http://imgur.com/gallery/ZwN68f0
And that STRESSES ME OUT.
Also worth noting… when I Googled writer’s block, this is what came up:
via: http://www.funnyjunk.com/funny_pictures/4204865/Writers+Block/
Ahaha slow clap, slash don’t worry, D, Taylor’s basically cornered the market on pop/country breakup songs.
Ironically, as I was searching for ‘writer’s block GIFs’, I realized that I do have a few little tidbits to talk about. Incidentally, they’re both technology-related.
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Online stalking
I’ll freely admit it: I still online stalk my exes with wild abandon. And come on, so do most of you peeps. I don’t do it because I have any interest in getting back together with them, or because I’m still into them at all. Hell no. It’s pure, unadulterated curiosity + a pathological need to find shit out. The thing is, sometimes this backfires, and you find out something you really weren’t meant to/didn’t want to know. Like, for instance, when I found out last fall that a certain self proclaimed commitment phobe who I couldn’t get to date me exclusively moved in with his new girlfriend, and I spent the better part of a week despondently repeating, “What’s wrong with me?” to my co-bloggers ad nauseum.
Conversely, in at least one case I’ve also stalked someone I used to go out with and gotten a good, cathartic laugh out of it. One dude who I dated last year has grown some absolutely TERRIFYING hipster facial hair; I’m talking gnarly Rumpelstiltskin beard + douchey waxed mustache. My girlfriends and I had a grand time LOLing at that greasy animal above his lip, and I felt on top of the God damn world.
One embarrassing (and more importantly, stupid) thing that I’ll admit to you guys about this proud stalking tradition: I usually stalk exes’ Twitter accounts FROM THIS BLOG’S TWITTER ACCOUNT. I mean, you want to talk about risky business…
via: http://www.risdall.com/blog/2013/07/24/7303-revision-v1/
I know, realistically it’s only a matter of time before I have a clicking mishap like this one, an ex ends up reading this very post, and my life is over. So STAY TUNED for that.
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The iMessage read receipt
Worst feature ever, or worst feature ever?
via: http://satiricalpolitical.com/2012/10/04/jim-lehrer-mea-culpa-what-went-wrong/
Texting itself is bad enough for dating; I can trace SO MANY misunderstandings, stresses, annoyances, and just general weirdness back to texts. But read receipts are a special kind of torture, and for some unknown reason, all straight men with iPhones appear to use it. Literally none of my girlfriends use it. I sure as shit don’t use it. Because nothing says ‘I don’t care about you’ like a little confirmation that someone read your text and then….silence. Oh, thanks so much for giving me the heads up that you read what I wrote and then promptly walked away/watched DVR/went to Trader Joe’s/did your laundry/did your taxes/called your mom/jerked off before finally getting around to responding. That makes me feel fantastic! Meanwhile, if your read receipts were off, I wouldn’t think twice if it took you 20 minutes to respond. Because whoooo knows what’s going on over in your world. You may not have your phone! You may be trapped under something heavy! The possibilities are endless.
L and I went on a full tangent about this a few weeks ago after she lived through a particularly harrowing read receipt incident. I had to get to the bottom of this nonsense, so I went straight to the source:
Yeahhhhh. I mean, that would explain why all of my exes tortured me with this thing, because it’s well documented that I have a thing for nerdy dudes. In conclusion: single people reading this, I implore you to just say no to read receipts. If you don’t, you’re eventually going to look like an asshole or piss a potential love interest off. Probably both. Let’s all stick with the nice, civilized ‘delivered’, shall we? Anyway, between read receipts and that evil little ellipsis:
via: http://media.idownloadblog.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/02/Messages-iOS-7-typing-a-reply.gif
this technology shit is enough to drive any single person crazy.
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Adam Levine physically repulses two out of three Stucu co-bloggers
This has exactly zero to do with dating or technology, but I just had to release an official statement regarding D’s picture of that walking herpes virus Adam Levine last week. L and I would like you all to know that neither of us condone the use of that gross image on this blog because omg, he’s the absolute worst. I mean, even if he is physically your jam (which ew, already judging you), how can you still feel that way when he opens his mouth? That voice! Ewwww the voice. Shudder. Never again, D. Not on our watch.
PS this blog is now home to not one, not two, but THREE 29 year old ladies! Happy Birthday, L!!!!
