Dude, It's Not Gonna Happen

We first discovered courage in the written word back in elementary school. In lieu of risking public humiliation, many boys (and some of the more progressive girls) sought refuge in the confidential “I like you. Do you like me?” note.  At a young age, these boys balanced the need for self-preservation with the necessity of full-disclosure. As adults, guys have maintained the safety of “the note” while abandoning its emotional significance. Today, “the note” has become the Internet.

Some Internet Creepers no doubt make their way through endless chat rooms, searching for the ultimate intimacy substitute: cyber-sex. My experiences with Internet Creepers, however, arose not in chat rooms, but in the oh-so-safe atmosphere of MySpace. Before I understood the full-spectrum of MySpace’s many social appeals (and the need to set a profile to private), I was often “friended” by guys I didn’t know. Finding this an incredible stroke to my ego, I usually accepted (isn’t our self-worth directly proportionate to the number of friends we have on the internet?). In time, I began receiving odd, but innocuous, messages: “Hey. What’s up?” “Thanks for adding me. Cute smile.” In time, unanswered messages grew more forward: “Hey. Want to get together sometime?” “We should hook up.” Understandably, these guys became outraged at my lack of response: “Hey. Why didn’t you answer my message?” and eventually de-friended me (the ultimate in Internet rejection).

My most memorable message came from a guy whose screen name was “Bitches ain’t shit.” The entirety of the message read “mmmm….. delicious.”  I figured out pretty quickly how to set my profile to private.

I have yet to determine what about my profile suggested I’d be interested in a blind hook-up. Perhaps it was the profile picture of me and my Chihuahua. Maybe my bad taste in music exposed so publicly pegged me as a woman desperate. Regardless, I’m baffled by the audacity of the more extreme Internet Creepers. And until my profile advertises “Looking for One-Night Stands,” guys would be well-advised to avoid making assumptions about my promiscuity.

It’s tough being single. I know it’s a cliche, but cliches exist for a reason, right? As a single girl, I know the pressures first-hand. The first question anyone ever asks is “So, are you married? Seeing anyone?” Inevitably, these questions are followed by the compassionate, “Don’t worry; you’ll find someone.” Girls feel this pressure, and everyone acknowledges that it’s there–it’s no big secret. A single girl in the world is acknowledged as a woman stressed.

With all of this pressure, it doesn’t seem unreasonable that I should be excited when a guy comes over to hit on me. As an ostracized, pressured, stressed-out, single woman, I should be grateful that a guy finds me appealing enough to present himself as a possible (if temporary) solution to my problem. This guy in this bar could be my salvation from the eternal damnation that is the single life! I acknowledge that moment of hope, even revel in it. I’m not proud of it, but I admit that I don’t actually enjoy being the single girl masquerading as “independent by choice,” and the possibility of changing that Facebook status from “Single” to “In a Relationship” is all-too enticing.

This hope, however, is quickly dashed as the guy starts “making his move.” I can’t pretend to know how difficult it is for a guy to hit on a girl, but I assume it’s no easy task. The fear of rejection, the pressure to be unique and impressive, the quest to appear sensitive while maintaining a manly persona–they all seem to culminate in one result: a disastrous meeting.

These come-ons leave us, the girls, confused and dismayed. Collapsing under the pressure to be creative and original, guys are presenting themselves instead as “creepers”–intruding on our personal space, inserting themselves into our conversations, making us uncomfortable to the point we all but scream, “Dude, it’s not gonna happen!!”

I have experienced this moment many times. From these intensely awkward, and often painful, experiences, I have come to a realization: while guys might add a bit of their own personalities to these pick-up methods, they are not original. Instead, they are just more aggressive, more intrusive, more everything than the old methods. And in trying so hard, guys are losing their sincerity.

I plan to share my awkward stories, categorizing the different types of come-ons (and the guys who use them) in such a way as to show how unoriginal and repulsive some of these methods actually are. Most girls will likely relate, and hopefully share stories of their own. Perhaps some guys will read this, recognize the futility of these methods, and return to the sometimes mocked, but far less obtrusive gesture of just offering to buy us a drink.