Most daters tend to want as much information as possible when they walk into a room to meet someone. But OKCupid is banking on the idea that information is actually getting in the way. There’s no denying that dating online is a bonafide “thing” now, but some wonder how much it actually results in people meeting their match. After all, users can spends weeks or months communicating with a potential match without actually ever meeting up. OKCupid co-founder Sam Yagan wants to change all that — he believes people should spend more time dating and less time talking. So the company decided to relaunch an old blind dating app they created several years ago — now called Crazy Blind Date — which uses highly protected OKCupid algorithims to match daters with similar interests.
But would you use it?
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For as long as we’re aware of other people’s dirty bits and sexual desires, we’re aware of how funny it can be to talk about them. My niece, for instance, thinks that “butt” is the funniest word in the English language. But she’s six. The grown-up version of “Ha ha, butt!” are those conversations — either whispered sotto voce or way-too-loud after a few too many cocktails — about other people’s personal lives, particularly the parts we’re not supposed to know. She did what? He wanted to put his thingy where? Oh my God. EW.
I’m not above finding the TMI details of other people’s private lives fascinating. Or sharing my own. Hey, the dude who wanted to lock me inside a dog cage and pee on me makes for an interesting story. (Hopefully he has found someone less claustrophobic to fulfill that pecadillo.) It satisfies the same morbid curiosity that wants to see celebrity nude pics. We want to know what other people are packing, I suppose so we can compare it against ourselves.
But there’s a point where a line needs to be drawn. It needs to be drawn hard. We need to stop posting people’s real-life personal, private, sexual information on the Internet for the purpose of mocking or shaming them. Keep reading »
People just love to get engaged at Christmastime. I imagine this is a result of a combination of factors, from feeling more family-oriented than usual (although the holidays have the opposite effect on many of us) to the celebratory atmosphere at large and increased presence of shiny objects generally. I spent Christmas Eve “liking” a whole new host of “Blankety Blank is engaged to Persony Person” updates before heading to sleep in my childhood bedroom with my new-ish husband. Keep reading »
Finding love in this post-Friendster era isn’t easy. Just ask 68-year-old University of North Carolina physics and astronomy professor Paul Frampton, who was recently sentenced to five years of house arrest for transporting a suitcase full of cocaine out of Buenos Aires, Argentina, and into the United States.
What compelled the Oxford-educated scholar to freelance as a drug mule? Well, Frampton was under the impression that this valise full of toot belonged to his online girlfriend, one Denise Milani, who in reality is a bikini model who may or may not hail from some undiscovered Toontown where Rob Liefeld was elected mayor. Frampton believed that if he smuggled the drugs, he would be able to retire to a small cabin located two ticks north of Ms. Milani’s solar plexus.
But when Frampton traveled to Bolivia to meet Milani earlier this year, he was not greeted by his new girlfriend/the letter “P” made human flesh, but by a strange man and an even stranger suitcase (their respective cup sizes went unreported by mainstream media). Read more…
Last night, I did something I thought I’d never do again, especially not on a random Monday evening: I reactivated my online dating profile.
I looked at the description of myself I wrote the last time I was single. I looked at the photos that I had thought best represented myself. I checked my months-old messages. I read the new messages that came in as my account had been re-activiated again. And all the while I thought, Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, what are you doing?
This morning, I deactivated it again. You see, I think I had just wanted instant gratification. Keep reading »
Rare is the woman whose adventures in dating — scratch that, in living — have kept her from a brush with a pickup artist. I guess I’ve got the equivalent of pickup artist herpes because I actually dated one. Well, a former one. Keep reading »
Are most things in your house covered in fur? Do you have intense personal conversations with your cats? Are you single? Then maybe you should try the Purrsonals, an online dating service specifically for cat obsessives. As you might imagine, there’s way more women on this than dudes, but what kind of guys can you find on Purrsonals? Well, one user is looking for “a Special Lady for a serious and long lasting relationship or more.” Another says, “I have two gorgeous calicos already. But now I’m looking for a girl who can speak my language to cuddle with at night.” And then there’s this guy:
I like cats. I love cats. Cats Cats Cats. I like to lick cats. I like to breath cats. I like cats with no tails cause the way there butt wiggles.
And don’t worry — you’re more of a dog person (for some reason), there’s always Dog Lovers Personals.
I am a woman 33 years of age who practices safe sex. But it wasn’t always that way. As a woman of 19, 20 and 21, I was in no uncertain terms an idiot where safe sex was concerned. Sometimes I forced a guy to wear a condom, sometimes I didn’t.
But that all changed when I hit 22.For it was at this stage that I that I met a man in a bar, went home with him, had sex with him. And not just any man. This man was drummed up in a dive bar. He was covered in tattoos, and I’m quite sure his continued trips to the bathroom were cocaine-related. When we got back to his place I quickly discovered that he owned a pet iguana, a leathery little thing named Juan who he allowed to roam free around his East Village bedroom. I had condom-less sex with this gentleman, and spent the whole of the next day convinced his myriad STIs were coursing through my system.
Now: I know you can’t judge a book by its cover. I know that just because a man is covered in tattoos and owns a pet iguana and has a whiff of the cocaine addict about him, that doesn’t mean that he’s got chlamydia. BUT … Keep reading »
Happy National Unmarried and Single Americans Week! It’s a real holiday. Yes, it is! It’s a week for singles and unmarrieds to celebrate themselves, to flaunt their status and feel superior to all the coupleds and marrieds. Or something like that. I’m not sure. It’s been National Singles Week for me for the better part of seven years and I’ve never felt superior. Well, maybe a few times. Keep reading »