By Maura Kelly published
HERE'S THE BRIEF UPDATE ON MY LIFE:
I had quite an interesting Thursday night! I ran into my gym crush many blocks away from the gym--a first--and ... well ... all I can say is, there is a story worth reporting. In fact, I definitely have some flirting wisdom to impart from that experience. Then I went on to my scheduled event of the evening: hanging out with The Russian. We'd both expressed what was obviously genuine interest in being friends, as you may recall, and last night we had a pretty wide-ranging, honest, evocative discussion about his experiences in the bondage+dominance scene. He is quite brilliant, and a sweetheart. Too bad, really, that he is moving out to Berkeley in a month to start a Ph. D. program there!
But, I'm going to have to tell you about both the gym crush and the Russian another time because (a) I gotta run in a minute and (b) I have this other thing I'd been planning to discuss today. So ...
IN OTHER NEWS:
As a dating blogger, in addition to hearing from all of you wonderful people, I am contacted by a fair number of crazy people. Last week, for instance, some complete stranger wrote in to say that I was clearly a slut, only interested in meaningless sex, which is why I hadn't found anyone yet--and why I never would. ... Um, what? Has the guy even read my blog? If he had, he'd know I haven't slept with anyone in months and that much as I theoretically wouldn't mind a "casual relationship," in reality, the only one I've ever really attempted to have--the one with Jonas Singer--just made me sad.
Anyway. This may not sound particularly weird. But remember I am a real person--a neurotic, paranoid and sensitive real person--and it's kind of shocking when expletive-laden notes arrive in my inbox!
More to the point of today's post, there's another category of mildly insane messages I regularly receive: the ones from random PR flacks, trying to promote their inane products (or the lame "sexperts" they represent). The latest one of these communiques tried to sell me on an item SOO pathetic--not to mention infuriating--that I had to open it up for public discussion (i.e. ridicule).
Here's the deal: Some company in Miami is hawking a $35-dollar-cannister full of cheap junk that they're calling "The Walk of Shame Kit." For your hard-earned money, you get: a pair of sunglasses, one-size-fits-all flip-flops, a T-shirt dress, a small bag for the evening's outfit, a pre-pasted toothbrush, and a note card to leave behind that reads "Call me" on one side and "Thanks for nothing" on the other. According to a story that appeared in Miami's New Times about this, the vice bimbo--er, vice president--of the "Walk of Shame Kit" company says women need her product because when a woman has a one-night stand the world doesn't need to know what she just did.
Oh, yeah? Thanks for nothing, I say! I think what the world REALLY doesn't need is some Miami dingbat trying to make women buy her crapola so she can get rick quick! (I can also assure you that "the world" probably isn't paying that much attention to any individual's one night stand. And does the judgement--or perceived judgement--of the person you might be buying coffee from the next morning really matter anyway?)
It's like: Okay, sometimes women have sex under less-than-ideal circumstances! So what? What business is it of yours?
What's more, I find the whole thing pretty sexist: there's no male equivalent of this stupid product (although apparently the company is developing one).
I wish them speedy bankruptcy.
Am I over-reacting here? What do you guys think?
Here's the take of some 28-year-old named Zack who is quoted in the New Times article: "This [kit] is pointless. I wouldn't think very highly of a girl who had this in the trunk of her car. It's just some silly thing you might see for sale at Urban Outfitters or something." Right on! I'm with him on that. But then I get a little suspicious when he says: "I come from the school of going to a girl's place and sneaking out before they wake up." Oooh. Sounds like an overgrown frat boy. And then things get worse. He goes on to say that if he ended up bringing someone back to his place, and she demanded a T-shirt, he'd give her one he didn't care about. "Like the one I got from a corporate 5K or my friend's failed smoothie business," he says. "It's not like I'd give some random f**k my Dave Matthews shirt."
His Dave Matthews shirt? If anyone's a poster-child for skipping the one-night-stand--not to mention eugenics--it's this guy.
PS: HELLO COMMENTERS! We have lots of new readers this week, which is cool--including some of my old high school friends (hello Carley and Nancy!) as well as some college friends. (Sarah Lu, is that you?) Speaking of old college friends: Hello Fance! I'm glad you liked the celeb-compliment-insult post, but sorry to hear that it sounds like you've had your own yucky experiences. ... Wonderland: We need dog beaches here! (And more beaches, period.) Also, Olivia Newton-John is hot. ... NOT FROM A BOTTLE: Molly Ringwald was so cute in her hey-day! Come one! Breakfast Club? Are you with me? ... Edwinna: I'm totally with you on the "you never know what kind of friends Talking Head might have" front. ... And XenZen: keep me posted on your SSRI story.
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