WHAT IT’S LIKE TO DATE IN NYC. BASICALLY.

Because someone out there understands the struggle – and has way, way more time on their hands than I do – this video parody of the Tinder dating app has just surfaced. (Also, if you didn’t know what Tinder was without the description, what the eff are you doing on this site?)

While I have little doubt that the people who made this gem will get it picked up as a series, I have even less doubt that dudes like “Trent,” the human embodiment of Goldman fin-ANCE smugness, will ever cease to exist in Manhattan. I know guys like him. I’ve dated guys like him. Hell, make that five.

Never has their been a more spot on representation of the gaping self awareness chasm between people who are on a date where one person thinks it’s going well, and the other person is wondering if their butter knife is sharp enough to open up a vein.

I have so many favorite lines in this (“Now, is that volunteer?”/ “Honestly, I just assumed they had a separate Timber for each borough”/ “It’s like watching a water bed, ughh”), but you can choose your own. It’s pretty long (that’s what she said), but so worth the watch.THAT’S WHAT SHE SAID

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THE 10 SELFIES WOMEN HATE MOST.

Photo credit: mikkejohannes

Photo credit: mikkejohannes

10. All of them.

9. All of them.

8. Seriously, not even if you’re standing atop Everest. 

7. The Car Selfie. Creepiest. Thing. Ever. Additional points deducted for forgetting to unbuckle your seatbelt, bro.

6. The Bathroom Mirror Selfie. Really? The least you could do is close the shower curtain.

5. All of them.

4. The Hotel Room Selfie. Just curious, what part of your business stay at the Doubletree in Cleveland did you feel was particularly sexy?

3. The Gym Selfie. No need to hammer home the fact that you spend all your free time getting your swole on. Having traps bigger than Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson’s sorta tipped us off already.

2. All of them. The fuck’s wrong with you?

1. The After Sex Selfie. Congratulations, whoever came up with the Instagram hashtag “#aftersex.” You’ve just surpassed The Westboro Baptist Church’s Fred Phelps and anyone with the last name Kardashian on my Most Hated List! FYI, snapping a picture of your post-coital self is the photo equivalent of TMI. Thanks for the trauma, gross couples of the Internet (and lonely dudes who tag their right hands).

Now find a new hobby.THAT’S WHAT SHE SAID

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THE APP GUARANTEED TO RUIN YOUR RELATIONSHIP, BRO.

Hate your relationship? Want to send your girl the message that you just. can’t. be. bothered? You’re in luck! There’s an app for that.

Thanks to some dudes in Australia, the dating app bar has just been lowered. Like, really lowered. Introducing BroApp, which promises to auto text your girlfriend for you, so that you can go out with the other Terribles and not have to worry about checking in with the ol’ ball and chain. And you thought dating couldn’t get any easier.

So how does it work? Bros enter their girlfriend’s contact info into the app, then they can either write a series of texts or choose from a default list of 12 messages (really personal, not-at-all-generic ones like, “Hi babe, how was your day?”), and then schedule them to be sent out on a specific day.

BroApp chooses the time that the texts are sent, and recognizes when you’ve recently messaged your girlfriend a non-completely bullshit composition of your own, in which case it waits to dispatch the next one.

And here I thought outsourcing your marriage proposal was the douchiest thing you could do.

Because the Brisbane-based developers have your back, the app not only recognizes your girlfriend’s Wi-Fi network so scheduled texts won’t be sent while you’re at her place, but it also prevents her from using the app herself.

BroApp

If she tries, it’ll bring up a “list of gifts you were planning to buy her,” they say. See how easy it is to foil us simple-minded women folk? The little lady’ll be none the wiser.

But they haven’t quite thought of everything, because they underestimate our ability to detect when you’re feeding us canned messages. (Sometimes, we’re smart.) Also, how does it handle responding to questions we’ve asked while you’ve gone off on autopilot?

Incidentally, the app’s currently only available on Android at the moment, which is pretty much the Google+ of smart phones anyway.

Sorry, abhorrent iPhone-using boyfriends. You’ll have to wait.

Lucky for you, the price of deception is cheap – the app only costs $1.99. As for us? Dating a guy who has BroApp on his phone seems awful, but it could be worse. We could be dating one of the guys who developed it.GEEK WINGMAN

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JUST WINGING IT UPDATE: WHAT GIVES?

214. That’s how many guys have mutually swiped right over my photo on Tinder – two hundred effing fourteen. That’s more total dudes than on 4 NFL teams combined (well, the dressed players at least). And yet how many Tinder dates have I gone on? One.

Likewise, I’ve been active on Match for several weeks now, and how many guys email me to set up dates? None. Well, none that fit into my actual dating parameters, at least…unless I expand my search to include dudes over 45. So, in my frustration and utter confusion, I’ve decided to utilize my resources and ask the masses to weigh in.

Men of online dating. And male readership. And, like, people at large – I need to know. What am I doing wrong here? What gives?

Before you all start crying out that I must be ignoring perfectly good dudes on Match, let me assure you – I’m keeping an open mind. I mean, I’m not willing to compromise on certain things, like the men I date having kids (Miss Wingman’s not ready to be a Wingmom, thankyouverymuch.) But for the most part, I’m letting what guys say dictate my interest, and ignoring superficial things like a receding hairline or a hideous wardrobe.

In fact, I’ve stepped out of my comfort zone entirely and began doing what I’ve never done before in my 30+ years on this planet: making the first move. I’m sending emails to guys, I’m striking up the first chat conversations when I get a new match, and…nothing. Literally, crickets. I hate to sound arrogant here, but I didn’t expect this. I thought that since I don’t post duck face bathroom selfies, don’t look like I have Hepatitis C, and can actually spell, that I’d be able to drum up some interest. But no. I stand corrected.

And frankly, it’s starting to give me a complex.

I’ve emailed like 15 guys on Match to strike up a conversation, to no avail. Not a single reply in the bunch. Here’s an example of a message I’ve used to break the ice with a particularly snarky Brooklynite:

“Quite possibly the only person on this site who’s more of a smartass than I am. Well done. Really quickly: love the kickboxing thing (I do it, too), and like you I also have an unnatural addiction to cheese, which I mitigate by running. We’ve probably crossed paths in the park.

Anyway, check out my profile, and if you come away convinced that I’m neither A) a lunatic nor B) a mutant, feel free to drop me a line. Could be fun to talk further. Take it easy.”

dateless

I’ve also used similar, shorter variations of this message with non-sarcastic dudes telling them that they seem like-minded and interesting, and always try to keep it brief and lighthearted. As for photos, you guys have seen what’s in my profile – and I added a full-body shot of me crossing a race finish line, per your suggestion.

The funny thing is, with Match at least, you can see who’s viewed your profile and when they did. I can only interpret that to mean that, for the guys that I’ve reached out to who have viewed my page after reading my email but then went radio silent, that they decided they’d rather pass than hit that shit (figuratively.) Ouch.

So, fine. Ew. I didn’t want to date you anyway, Doug in Hells Kitchen. The crosstown commute would’ve sucked. (Just kidding, there’s no Doug in HK. There are, however, a lot of men in Kew Gardens. I don’t even know where the hell that is.)

As for Tinder, I’m just chalking it up to the fact that guys use it as a game, and not a mode of actually meeting women in person in NYC. Like a sexier version of Candy Crush – only with chicks instead of lollipops and gummies. Is it laziness, and they aren’t willing to put forth the effort to set up actual dates? Or do I just need some more duck face bathroom mirror selfies? And yes, if I do the latter, you guys get to choose the color of my thong.

Anyway, I have no means for comparison, so if any of my guy friends on Match or Tinder want to offer their consulting services so I can peruse the female merchandise, now’s your chance. Or maybe it’s just time to join OK Cupid…

Until next time, Wingman faithful, as always I’ll be just winging it.THAT’S WHAT SHE SAID

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AND THE MOVEMBER WINNER IS… THIS GUY.

Jonathan Burnside Mo Space

Jonathan Burnside Mo Space

I just…I mean…I…can’t…

Yeah.

The month of Movember may be over, gentlemen, but it’s traumatic photo legacy lives on. At least for this dude, who took the charity project really, really seriously.

Who the hell is he, you ask? Beats me, but according to his Mo Space page, he’s Jonathan Burnside, who for some crazy reason only yielded $333 of donations for growing a cat portrait in his facial and chest hair. I’m not sure what’s going on with the floating paws in this photo, but I am sure that any man who shaves a p***y into his belly probably doesn’t get any in real life.DAPPER WINGMAN
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WHAT CITY GUYS CAN LEARN FROM SOUTHERN MEN

weddingwire

weddingwire

The good news is, chivalry isn’t dead. The bad news? It’s geographically challenged. This weekend, Miss Wingman ventured south of the Mason Dixon line, and what I found were a whole lot of guys with good manners. Popped collars, sure, but still – manners.

Anyone who reads this site even casually will have heard me beg, plead and implore the male population at large to up their etiquette game. It is, in my opinion, an even bigger contributor to the death of courtship than Snapchat and sext pics. And not just in NYC, although we seem to have cornered the market on dudes with bad manners up here.

But I was reminded of the difference between those southern gentlemen and the guy who will chat you up in the East Village on a Saturday night after spending 72 hours surrounded by my friends and their Georgia- and Virginia-bred buddies.

So, here are some lessons Miss Wingman would like to impart on What City Guys Can Learn From Southern Men when it comes to women. You might not like it, y’all, but it had to be said.

They treat all women the same. Whether it’s a girl they’re hooking up with, or just a female friend of a friend who’s out with the crew, chairs are offered up, taxi doors are opened and bags are carried. It may be extra effort, but it’s part of their upbringing. A damn sexy part.

They dress well. No one says you have to leave the house looking like Carlton Banks every day, but all the dudes I encountered, from the farm to the fratty bars, had a polished, put together appearance. None of this rumpled t-shirt bullshit. Button downs and sweaters may not be your style, bro, but at least aim for a clean shave.

They don’t go dutch. I lost track of how many times I was handed a drink or asked if a dude could get me anything, but I do remember how many times they let me kick in money: 0. There’s something to be said for the “you pay for a lady” mentality (um, not in the prostitute way, though.)

I know most of you will complain that if you’re not a Rockefeller or an I-banker that can get costly, but hear this: a little class goes a long way, fellas. Good luck, and to the men of New York, consider this gauntlet thrown.ETIQUETTE WINGMAN

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OH MY GOD THIS. SO MUCH OF THIS.

Holy shit, someone just came up with the best dude invention ever. Granted, you might argue that Miss Wingman is wrong, since it involves some pain on your part to facilitate more happiness on ours (suck it up, fellas), but I disagree. This. Is. Amazing.

So what is this miracle product?

Oh, just sandpaper…for your face. FTW? Stop being a pussy, bro, and listen up. A company called The Soft Goat (I won’t even ask) just solved the skin-chafing problem caused by your razor stubble after you get up close and personal with that girl you’ve been talking to lately. You know, where she comes away from that kissing session looking like her skin just went through a cheese grater? Right. Not a good look for us.

The blotchiness-prevention trick comes in the form of a hypoallergenic foam pad layered with abrasive paper. But don’t worry, the designers spent years honing the coarseness to find just the right balance between effectively stubble-softening, and won’t rip open your skin.

By rubbing the “sandpaper” over your stubble, the prickly edges get rounded down, much like what happens when two pieces of sandpaper are rubbed together. But don’t use it on just shaved skin or attempt it on a full beard, it’s not designed to handle that – and neither are you. 

The Soft Goat

The Soft Goat

So, why sandpaper and not something less…medieval sounding? Traditional products like beard oils or conditioning agents are made to soften the longer hairs of your beard, but don’t work on stubble. Additionally, lotions and creams are no match for your 5 o’clock shadow, however it’s been groomed. Just keep the lotion in your nightstand where it belongs, boys.

Kidding. Definitely don’t do that.

The scruff and goatee softener comes in a box of three and retails for $11.99 – a small price to pay for the gratitude she’ll feel when she can makeout with you without looking like she just ate shellfish and broke into hives. Consider this payback for all of the “Beauty is pain” rituals we put ourselves through for your benefit, gentlemen. And hey, if you (don’t) scratch our backs, we might be more inclined to scratch yours.DAPPER WINGMAN

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