WELL? How did it go? Are you in, or are you out?
If you’re in the doghouse as we
speak, you probably didn’t rise to the challenge of Valentine’s Day.
Unsure? Need an interpreter? If
your love is currently sloping around the house in too-short sweat pants and a
stained T-shirt, every so often heaving a gigantic sigh, you either forgot
Valentine’s Day entirely or you came up with something lame, like half a bag of
movie theatre popcorn retrieved from the back seat of the car. Perhaps you even
presented it with an ill-advised flourish and a jaunty “See how much I care?”
Worse yet, you may have posed the
disingenuous, if commonplace, question, “Why should Hallmark determine when or
how I express my love for you?”
Ah, well. What’s done is done.
There are plenty of fish on plentyoffish.com.
Still, you’d best get packing
before your ex-sweetie does it for you in that slapdash way where she
sandwiches your iPod between your unwashed jockstraps.
You’re right -- I have jumped to
the conclusion that you are male. That’s only because it’s hard to picture any
guy who’d pout because he failed to receive a pink card rhyming off his
numerous virtues and promising him a spa day. Such gals, however, are a dime a
doz.
The male-female dynamic remains
static in that regard, but in other ways it has changed. Nowadays, sir, if you
are guilty of ignoring your significant other while Cupid visits all her
friends, you may find yourself internationally vilified. If you are in most
other ways exemplary, you might get away without such punishment. But if you
are smelly, lazy, tactless, dishonest, unfaithful and failed to give so much as
a solitary cinnamon heart to your ladylove, watch your back, Jack. On such
websites as DontDateHimGirl.com, Sorry-Mom.com, WomanSavers.com (“Research
& Rate B4U Date”) and TheBadBoyfriendClub.com, you may find yourself strung
up alongside numerous out-and-out jerks whose charmless peccadilloes are now in
the public domain. There might also be an unflattering photo of your face, with
or without black bars over your eyes.
These websites are intended as
stranger-to-stranger warnings. On WomanSavers.com, which calls itself “The
world’s largest database rating men,” members can type in a name and search to
find out whether a particular hombre has been assessed.
How much do you want to bet that
you won’t stumble on many rave reviews? This actual comment from a man-rater on
DontDateHimGirl is as close as you’re likely to get to an endorsement: “He
makes cute babies … and is a decent guy if he’s on his meds and stops drinking.
Beyond that, RUN! RUN FAST AND DON’T LOOK BACK!”
Alas, the dominant types on these
websites tend to be crackpots, criminals and cheaters. But there’s little
differentiation made between the undesirability of a guy who is supposedly on a
sex crimes registry, and another whose offense is embarrassing his girlfriend
in front of wait-staff. And then there’s the allegedly heinous Nathan, about
whom we read: “Unfortunately, he is a dentist. Please do not be taken in by his
charm.”
My personal favourite entry
concerns somebody called TJ, whose face, apparently, “sometimes looks like a
dying turtle.” I gather that’s one of his more attractive features.
As you can tell, no holds are
barred by the writers on these sites, who not only note hygiene and mommy
issues but frankly enumerate all sexual shortcomings. Failing to deliver on
Valentine’s Day may be the least of these men’s flaws, but I’d wager it’s often
the coup de grace. (Of course, buying Valentine cards in bulk is not a good
sign, either.)
Righteous indignation reigns
supreme in this particular corner of the worldwide web. While the “bad
boyfriends” all seem pretty unappetizing, the girlfriends reporting on them
tend to sound semi-illiterate on top of their outrage. There’s little wit here;
none of the sites’ editors appears to insist on even a modicum of style.
Naturally, there’s also no
admission anywhere that the female contributors may not be prizes themselves.
As a matter of fact, one of them claims to have had two children with a
solitary miscreant. I think the polite term for her might be “slow learner.”
I’m not sure what the term would be
for the lady who advises readers never to get involved with a man who is bipolar: “I met one five years
ago who told me he heard a voice in his head telling him I was supposed to be
his wife.” Well, I can certainly understand why that didn’t send her screaming
for the exit.
You can see the appeal of all this
broadcasted bitterness for the wronged or affronted. But isn’t this the modern
equivalent of dissing a classmate on a bathroom cubicle wall -- the province of
the puerile, the pathetic and the pubescent? Last time I looked, being a
“player” or a jackass wasn’t illegal. Why can’t we just chalk up our failed
romances to poor taste on our parts, send the offender a subscription to
Maclean’s as punishment, and leave it at that?
Who put that detour sign on the
high road?
More importantly, who’s to say if
any of this vicious drivel is even remotely true? How does a man, innocent or
not, defend himself against such a public slagging?
Try to find a similar website about
bad girlfriends and you’ll have little luck. There are probably some racy
interpretations online regarding what makes a “nasty” gal-pal, and suggestions
that such a partner might be ideal in certain contexts. I did find one entry
about a woman, posted by a sad cuckolded soldier on DontDateHimGirl.com. But
few men seem to waste their time avenging themselves on their former squeezes
by griping about their brutal PMS or their trashy hair extensions on the
Internet.
That’s a relief. Think about it,
ladies. How would any of us like it if we Googled ourselves and discovered that
an old flame on a “grotesque girlfriends” site had made hay out of the fact
that we like to lick the inside of the gravy boat and can’t do long division? I
shudder at the thought of the stinging critiques my long-ago dates could
truthfully make, assuming they could remember me at all.
So, do unto others, etc. Reconsider
putting your most recent paramour on the modern equivalent of a pillory. Those
remaindered bulk bin chocolates you received on Feb. 14th, 2009 were
surely mere oversight. Next year he’s bound to do better.
As for you, gentlemen, don’t say
you weren’t warned.
Excellent, Kate.
From now on, when people ask me why I don't date much, instead of trying to come up with some clever riposte, I'm simply sending them a link to this post.
Posted by: Kristen | March 18, 2009 at 06:48 AM