10 Ways I Can Tell I’ll Have Sex With You, Based On Your Twitter Feed
So, for as much as I write about how it’s hard to find a man, it’s actually way more complicated than that. What it really comes down to is I can’t stand most people.
Recently I had a Google Hangout date with a rando who asked me out after my column on teaching men how to ask women out. I, as Emily so aptly put it, “have way too much comfort with getting intertwined with randos” — that’s exactly how I ended up in this position in the first place.
But here’s the thing. Even before the video-chat, I knew there was no hope. That’s because I had done my usual Internet due diligence, and read three years of his feed, which wasn’t that hard. It took me like 15 minutes.
And that’s when it hit me: I could never fuck this guy — because of his Twitter.
Honestly, I would rather be by myself than have an empty flat-affect connection with someone where the X-relationship-factor just simply isn’t there. Could I tell all this from multiple successions of 140 characters? Fuck yeah, I could.
Here’s why:
1. Your Twitter tells me if you will bore me.
Tip: If you wouldn’t go up to someone at a party and say some unfunny boring bullshit, then don’t tweet it, dude. Unless you are a normal person, then well, that’s probably a great idea. I don’t know. Check in on 4Square at Chipotle or some shit.
2. Your Twitter tells me immediately if I wouldn’t want to spend more than 10 minutes with you.
Of course, I didn’t say this to the guy tonight. I wish I had. But keep in mind, I hate conflict, and I am also terrified of making Internet enemies. I have enough anonymous people on the Internet who tell me exactly what is wrong with me, so I have a secret fear that every man I reject, no matter how brief the encounter, will then make it his life’s purpose to register the username “Mandycansuckmyfuckingdick2012” or whatever and just write “Ugly, fat, dumb” on everything I write. Although when I put it that way, I suppose that might be kind of entertaining.
3. Your Twitter tells me if you seem cheap.
Like, if you get all excited about a Groupon you just got and can’t wait to tweet the shit out of it. Yeah. That’s a real panty-soaker.
4. Your Twitter shows if you major in the minor.
You complain about stupid shit (and not in a funny way) like a little bitch. On Twitter, this usually translates to, “I am sick of this inconsequential thing,” along with that old trusty standby: “Please RT.”
5. Your Twitter scares me when you are into sharing the results of your workouts and shit online.
I don’t know. I’m sure that’s totally chill for some, but to me, it just seems like I’m suffocating in Brosville, Population: You. Do you say, “Let’s roll,” too? Just, no. Stop.
6. Your Twitter hurts me when you include tweets like, “Watching the debate,” or, “Feeling jetlagged.”
Because then you are that dude who in real life would say boring shit like, “Watching the debate,” or, “Feeling jetlagged.” Here’s my counter-tweet, “Stab me in the fucking eyeballs.”
7. Your Twitter hurts me even more when you make terrible unfunny pun-laden stupid fucking jokes.
That shit makes my soul die. That shit makes me feel like Woody Allen with the giant fake plastered grin in “Annie Hall” when the hack comic is telling him the kind of material he wants Woody to write for him. Soul. Dying.
8. Your Twitter is hard to read with both eyes open when it is overflowing with painfully earnest tweets like, “So touched by all the people who are fighting diseases. #inspiring”
Except that example I gave above would be, like, a brilliant comedic tweet. But except imagine it being done seriously. With the super awkward hashtag at the end that’s akin to a little knee squeeze that says #importantstuffguys. Or #makesyouthink. Like you are a deer in the headlights. Like you couldn’t have a strong POV to save your fucking life. Like you are “Charles in Charge” or some shit.
9. Your Twitter shows if you are corny and lame and just don’t get it. Also: Your Twitter is your life.
It’s a frightening thing to think: “Your Twitter is your life.” As in, I realize mine makes me look like a sex-crazed inspirational-quote-fetishizing occasionally funny super-self-deprecating narcissistic nympho spinster. #inspiring, isn’t it?
(And — if you want to see a brilliant satirization of this specific brand of not getting-it-ness, read only the entire “Studio 60” Twitter handles or say anything by the “Get Your War On” guy or rent “Mr. Show.” Or check out some of the less-kill-yourself-shit on Vice. Or the amazing parody of Vice from Britain “Nathan Barley.” Or some of the more ingenious episodes of “Ali G” or “The Office.”)
10. Which leads me to the cold hard fact: Your Twitter provides the ultimate cultural litmus shit test.
It’s like the guy who I showed “The Graduate” to once, and his full reaction to seeing this gorgeous textured masterpiece was, “So, enough with the Simon & Garfunkel music, huh?”
No joke. Cultural litmus shit test = failed. You are fine and great and fantastic if you fail it. I just don’t think I can handle spending an hour with you. I’ve seen too much. I’m sorry. Good night, and good luck.