While I was growing up, I had a hell of a lot of fun. My very early years were spent going to the local sports complex with my dad and my little brother, playing backyard baseball/soccer/tag with a gaggle of kids from the neighborhood, having fashion shows with gear from my massive dress-up box for my mom. Then, as I got older, my friends and I started throwing boy-girl parties involving air hockey tournaments and games of spin the bottle, and would have sleepovers where we dyed our hair and cleaned the house on Saturday afternoons so my mom would give us movie money.

In my early teen years I’d hang out at the skatepark and take trips out of town with as many people as we could pack in a van to watch bands play; later, at the end of my high school career, weeknights were spent driving around, listening to jams and making pointless stops at WalMart, and weekends were spent partaking in outlandish late-night drinking shenanigans accompanied by board games.

Then I went to college. And while some of my best friends did attend the same school as me, and while I did meet a handful of fantastic new people, for the most part, I was pretty miserable. I went from a small town where I had known everyone for 5+ years to a giant school filled with rich kids from suburbia who wouldn’t know real fun if it kicked them in the teeth. Read More »

I have an account on a dating site. But I never use it. Unless I want to depress myself. Then I use it.

It’s easy to depress oneself on an online dating site – especially if A) you know for a fact you’ll never find the person you want online and B) all your “matches” are either really unattractive or cover their profile with flowery prose that’s so full of sh*t there’s no room for actual talent.

Aside from the shirtless mirror shot attached to a Faulker-esque description of New York City in the winter or a predisposition for “coding computers”, there’s nothing that turns me off faster than when one of my weird, douchebag-like “matches” has NPR listed as one of their loves. Which is strange. Because I love NPR.

I love being serenaded on long Sunday car rides by Ira Glass’s calming monotone during This American Life. I enjoy All Things Considered, BBC World Service updates, and the occasional funny op-ed by a slightly famous quirky writer. I feel comfortable with NPR’s obvious liberal bias – as I myself own such a bias – and there’s nothing better than sitting alone in my apartment with a glass of wine as deep-set, unhurried voices click their well versed tongues against my eardrums. NPR is like a womb. A liberal, literary, sophisticated womb where I take comfort at least twice a day (if not more).

So why the shuddering when I notice a potential mate might enjoy themselves some Fresh Air with Terry Gross?

I’m not sure, exactly. Maybe because most of the people I know who listen to public radio are bleeding heart liberals, and even though I consider myself one of those bleeders (with a shot of hippie thrown in), I get a little nervous when a guy describes himself that way. Read More »