A Lullaby For Dickmagnet2010 (excerpt)

There were pieces Dickmagnet2010 loved about each man she saw. Like one’s funny misshapen cranium and his extreme concern for amino acids and feeling like he was going to die. And how another one once remarked upon walking out of a bar into a surprise rain, “I didn’t know my emotions would show on the outside.”


My self-summary

bar soap not body wash

People’s fingers gross me out
I don’t want to see them in your profile

I spend a lot of time thinking about

whither Dickmagnet2010? (existential)

whether PETA is a gateway drug (to things like heroin)

how not to be in a relationship but receive all the appealing trappings

The six things I could never do without

t-shirts with all caps sloganry like BDSM 4 ME

haughty disclaimers

obvious lies

strident individualism

algorithms that render what I say irrelevant

farmer’s market conspiracy theories


The first things people usually notice about me

that everything happens for a reason!


She found herself inside Online Dating now, reasonably attuned to safety precautions, highly selective in picking her dates—big brains carried the day in terms of actual encounters, but she also relished in the stupefying monstrosity of Form Messages and what it took someone to send to hundreds of women a message like:


How are you doing? I saw you were one of my matches and I thought your profile seemed interesting, and fascinating. I also think we have a really similar sense in what we’re looking for in others (I also think you look absolutely gorgeous — hope that wasn’t too forward.). Also if nothing else you seemed like someone interesting to meet, so I figured I’d say hi. Hope your doing well.

Interesting, and fascinating! She cheerfully ignored the onslaught of what someone1 referred to recently as “500 messages from men who apparently had just slapped their semi-erect penis on their keyboard a few times and pressed ‘send.’” To those more stubborn messengers she swatted them tenderly by explaining that Dickmagnet2010 was just art. She accused them all of premature emasculation.


Sincere, trembling confessionals of love poured in. “Hark,” they cried: “the white whale,” the sole reason for upgrading to A-status, to be allowed to ping her swollen inbox. This is not a fucking fairy tale.