Dategirl

Since coming out of a three-year relationship, I have walked onto the dating scene. I've noticed, however, a bit of a change. There's a glaze of desperation and despair in the dating world—particularly with women.

I began to search for why so many women have the "I need a man to be fulfilled" mentality. Sure, some women have always been like this, but now it seems that there are more.

I was excited when Sex and the City began to open up the idea of women actually loving sex and desiring it as much as a man. But now I see that women are becoming more promiscuous and free with their sexuality, not for themselves, but to still try to get a guy.

I have also noticed that the media—like reality-dating shows—are either a reflection of or a guide to our culture. This scares the hell out of me. Women have still given men the control card. We are our own worst enemy. Have you noticed this?

—Carina

Actually, Carina, I hadn't. There will always be dimwitted dames running around out there (you know, the type that need a sitcom to tell them that sex is fun), just as there will never be a shortage of retarded men who'll find these broads utterly captivating.

These are the types that pepper reality-dating shows. I find it somewhat fascinating that you see these nutty programs as a societal guide to single life. That had never occurred to me. For one thing, nobody I know owns (or even has access to) a hot tub.

Your freaked-out attitude leads me to believe you've probably started reading women's magazines again. Cover lines like "What he really thinks about your pubic hair" are bound to suck a newly single gal in, but resist. My editor forwarded a helpful piece he'd found on MSN, entitled "25 Things Women Wish Men Would Figure Out." This supremely idiotic list included tidbits like "We fantasize. But it's usually about you." Yeah, right! Why would I think about being triple-teamed by Crispin Glover, Avery Brooks (Hawk!) and Richard Belzer when I could fantasize about making sweet love to you, honey? Der. Here's another: "We will leave you if you lie to us." Erm, no. More like, we will leave you if you don't fib to us on occasion. We really don't need to know that you think our sister/best friend/mom has a better ass than us.

When I read female-penned stories like that, I tend to agree with you that we ladies can be our own worst enemies. But then I remember that women's mags and the ilk are merely tools of Satan and not representative of the female population—at least not the population that I care to associate with. So relax, and make a few sane girlfriends. If you're going to continue dating men, you're going to need them for support.

Because what you're going through is typical of someone who is recently free of a long-term relationship. You're probably dating frequently and having tons of sex with cute near-strangers. I'm betting these studmonkeys are feeding you this bullshit. They tell you how different, how uninhibited you are… how you're not like most women, who're itching for a ring after two dates. Everyone wants to feel unique, so you're buying it. You start to believe you are different. What is wrong with most women? But really, the only thing novel about you is that you haven't been single long enough to find dating the completely disheartening, debilitating, emotionally crippling grind it can often be if you have half a brain, are remotely sane and even a teensy bit stable.

See, that's the thing. Women as a unit aren't more desperate for a relationship than they were the last time you were single; it's just that after being out there on the frontlines for a while, we're simply suffering from Chronic Dater Fatigue. I cannot even tell you how many times I've been dicked around by some undeserving leg-humping lunatic. Or how many times I've been pursued hot and heavy by some yutz who seems perfect, only to have him bail immediately upon getting into my pants. Or the sheer number of marginally employed, emotionally stunted basket cases who've deigned me ungirlfriendable because I don't look like a supermodel or I'm too old or too pudgy or too mouthy or too something-they-can't-really-put-their-finger-on. And half of these aren't even men I'd consider letting tongue-kiss me!

My friend Travis says that women always think they're uglier than they actually are, and men always think they're way hotter than they are. Nowhere does this ring more true than in New York City. Here, even the most wall-eyed, excema-afflicted, bedwetting video-store clerk thinks he's hot shit because Carl from Interpol once sat through one of his band's dismal Arlene's Grocery sets.

So yeah, when a girl meets an attractive male who showers regularly, speaks in complete sentences, can throw a decent fuck her way and calls when he says he's going to, it can seem like finding the Holy Grail and winning Lotto all wrapped up in one person. Which can lead to a gal getting a little overexcited and maybe holding on a little too tight. But rest assured, it's not because she's so desperate for a ring—she just doesn't want to go out there again. And yes, I realize how lame this sounds, but spend a year or two on your own and you'll realize how right I am. o