Last Sunday night I found myself at Barney’s Beanery in West Hollywood. It was Memorial Day weekend, so the bar was packed. I’d come with friends, so I wasn’t looking to talk to any guys, but looking around I was surprised at how many cute, normal looking ones there were.

There were tons of adorable nerdy boys wearing glasses and semi-skinny jeans who looked like they’d just come to chill and have a good time with their friends. Yeah, there were a few desperate-looking ones in buttoned-down collared shirts and pressed slacks, but I just ignored them. I couldn’t understand why my friend S (identity protection) always complained to me about not being able to find datable girls in Los Angeles, there seemed to be plenty of cute guys. So I decided to put myself in his shoes, and I looked around for girls. It was an eye opener.

To start with, there were five guys to every girl, and for every normal-looking, attractive girl, there were ten über-slutty ones. I saw one majorly stacked blonde wearing a blue dress so low cut I could practically see the surgery scars on her nipples. Fake tans, platinum extensions, and cheap stilettos were everywhere. We weren’t in some swanky bar on Sunset, and these girls weren’t going to find their future investment banker husband here, this was Barney’s, a bar full of currently unemployed, future TV showrunners. I suddenly felt incredibly bad for S. Read More »