“What a pleasure,” I said. Natalie looked good, just a little bit tumbling out of her dress, the goods on display, but I was nervous.

This was a dating site date, and I had lost count of how many of them I’d been on recently. All the things women complained about were things that I, as a red-blooded American man, was experiencing from the ladies: Women lying about their age, women wanting to be pen-pals forever, women showing up looking way different from their pictures. Women carrying some industrial-strength baggage. There was ghosting and tears and women who used too many teeth during blowjobs. And then there was the one who never came back from the bathroom after what I thought was a friendly discussion about who we were voting for in November.

As I sat in the corner of the dim old-man... Read More