I recently graduated from Boston University and now I’m living the single life in New York. Dating in NYC is very difficult. It’s a weird paradox because there are millions of people out there who’d be perfect for you, but you can’t actually meet any of them. Everyone goes out into the world with Ipods on, and even if you could communicate, you’d just be another creepy stranger. So you go to the one place of social gathering: the bar, but girls don’t want to be hit on there either. Ladies, why do you even go to the bar if you don’t want guys to talk to you? “I just want to talk to my girlfriends while guys buy us drinks.”

I remember being in college and thinking, “I can’t wait until I can go to bars. I’m so sick of going to college parties and constantly getting laid.” It was so easy in college! I studied Psychology, only because there were so many girls in every classroom. As it turns out, I should have been studying something that would have given me a job, because that’s all girls care about after graduating.

I’m all, “No, I can’t buy you a drink, but if you went out with me, I’d help you replace the void left by your irresponsible and emotionally abusive father. No?”

I can’t pick up girls at a bar. Look at me. The second I come in, my glasses fog up. I can’t see anyone, but I can hear them whispering, “He looks like the lovechild of John Lennon and Harry Potter. How did he get in here? I think he’s 12.”

If I try to talk to a girl, she just figures I’m another sketchy weirdo. The plethora of actual weirdoes in New York ruin it for normal guys like me. A girl has no idea that I just want to take her out to dinner and maybe some nice choking sex. But consensual! It’d be with a girl who’s also into that. I’m not an asshole. I may be into rough sex, but afterwards I’ll cuddle.

Okay, so I’m not really choking girls, but I really do need harder and harder sexual stimulation. I used to be fine with lesbian porn. In fact, I preferred it. I was like, “Ewww, I don’t want to see dicks. I’m not gay.” But now I can’t get aroused unless it’s a full-on gangbang. And what’s worse is that it’s spilled over into my sex life. Seeing a naked girl in front of me used to be enough. Now I have to picture the guy behind her, giving me the thumbs-up.

She’s asks, “Are you picturing another girl?”

I explain, “No, I’m picturing another guy.”

I’ve gotten desperate for dates. I just went on one with a girl I met through Myspace.com. I knew it was a bad idea, but I couldn’t help it. She looked so cute in her picture. It was a Halloween pic of her as a flapper. I thought, “I have to meet her.” But as it turns out, she actually is 99 years old.

The picture was in black and white. I thought she was an artistic East Village hipster. Turns out she’s an arthritic broken hip-ster. It’s weird how similar they are though: old people and hipsters. Both wear cardigans and dark-rimmed glasses and talk about their cats too much. So I fucked her. It was like Harold and Maude. She complained, “I don’t have a strong bone in my body.”

I yelled, “Now you do bitch!”