A single apartment.


I’m moving to the place where single girls are made and often die alone in their apartments to be eaten by their cats: New York City.

And while I’m confident that I won’t die alone, only because, if I ever find an apartment, I’ll need a roommate since I’m a poor, struggling writer/waitress/lover of Ramen; I’m not confident that I’ll actually find an apartment.  I am confident, however, that I will probably end up living in a really nice cardboard box at this rate.

What I’m finding is that looking for an apartment in NYC is a lot like trying to find a decent individual on OkCupid.  Which, lucky for me, is what I’m particularly seasoned at trying to do.

I don’t know if it’s simply just a free-site thing or and online thing but, either way, people lie.  On OkCupid people lie all the time about their jobs, hobbies, favorite books (or that they read books in general), or even what they look like (By the way: Catfish is real.  It is so real. So, you’ve lost a lot of hair? Just own it don’t post a fake picture that makes you look like Fabio). I’ve found pictures of the same apartment for listings in Brooklyn, Queens, and the Upper West Side, and I’m pretty certain that’s just not possible.  Why must we lie about apartment locations? I mean, I’m desperate enough to live just about anywhere, and anyone else on Craigslist is probably in the same boat, let’s just be truthful.

Then there are the overeager sellers.  I contacted an owner about their apartment but when I found out they had posted the same listing over and over in multiple locations (seriously, what is that?) I decided that this probably wasn’t the best fit.  So I contacted the person again and said I wasn’t interested in the apartment because something else had come up.  That should have been it, right?



The guy has texted me three more times asking me if I have changed my mind.  No, I haven’t changed my mine, Crazy.  I mean, come on, I’d text you if I changed my mind about your sketchy apartment.  This actually reminded me of that guy from OkCupid who texted me non-stop after I fell asleep.  It was sheer desperation.  But, I can’t be the only person who was looking at that apartment.  Still, desperation is as desperation does.

So, like I said, there is a lot of common ground found between OkCupid Manor and Craigslist Castle.  And luckily I have my Single Girl Wits about me to guide me through these homeless times.  I hope that I won’t be single and homeless long.

I’d much rather be single and living in NYC.

Romantic Jesus, please help me find an apartment.

A single enemy.


The other night, my sister posted on my wall to tell me her pretty ingenious idea for my next blog post:

She’s so smaht.  And, like she said, there are some funny things out there when you only search for the person you are supposedly least compatible with on OkCupid.

I thought I had seen the worst when I was going through my highest match percentage candidates but the worst of the worst (WOW) was far…worse.

The men I came across varied drastically.  Some were too far right, some too far left.  Others didn’t have respect for the ladies while some had known too many ladies.  There were the gangsta wannabes, the unhip hipsters, the mama’s boy and the asshole.

There are many assholes, they are the greatest populous of boy out there and instead of recapping the entire experience I’ve decided to show you all exactly why I’ll never message men like this:

It’s amazing how I start to pity this guy instead of loathe him with all of those misspelled words.

But, oddly enough, that whole “opposites attract” theory might be a little true.

The last guy I came across had an enemy percentage of 83% and a match percentage of 23% – which is making me question how they figure out the percentages for this site because this guy and I are totally compatible.  Not only does he reference my all time favorite movie, Good Will Hunting, but he also put the lyrics for A Whole New World into his profile.  Read this little tidbit I stole from his profile and see if you don’t agree with me:

This boy slays me.  Even if I we never dated I could be happy knowing he exists.  I honestly don’t know why we have such a high enemy percentage – Boy Meets World, Good Will Hunting, and Aladdin? All in one profile?  Best. Profile.  Ever.

A single (UPDATED) respirator.


Just to keep y’all in the loop, I thought I would share with you that my awkwardness paid off and respirator boy responded to my message:

Hey Olivia!

Well I would have found that clever and very entertaining! And you speak facts, it is a fantastic respirator. What do you do for work that requires a respirator?

I am glad to answer and I have no doubt you are much more awesome once moving on from introductions… No one likes to have to make the first introduction. ;D


Why, yes, I am more awesome once I move on from introductions.  And I’m pretty.  And funny.  And nice (he was thinking all those things).

If he answered my incredibly awkward message then he is either one of two things: 1.) awesome or 2.) weird.

I’m hoping for the first option but, don’t worry, I’ll keep you all in the know.

A single respirator.


I thought, when I started back up on OkCupid, I would be gaining access to the pot of shame that resides at the end of the pathetic rainbow of men on this site.  And, with this pot-o-shame, I would be able to dole out heaping spoonfuls of entertainment to you all.

Sadly, I will be the reason for your entertainment, not some man dressed up in a snowman suit for his profile picture (although, that was pretty entertaining). Yes, I will be your man dressed up in a snowman suit.

See, dear readers, I have a problem:

My name is Olivia, and I am an awkwardholic. 

Meaning that I come off awkwardly in almost any day-to-day situation but, more specifically, when I try to meet new people.  And on OkCupid, I’m meeting new people all the time.

Most days I can mask my awkwardholism (I guess that makes me a functioning awkwardholic) but if I’m extremely tired or had a trying day, then sometimes I just can’t hide my dark secret.  And, when I try to interact with other human beings, bad things happen.

Exhibit A:


I was trying to think of a clever way of starting up a conversation with you but, sadly, the best I can come up with was, “Hey, nice respirator. I have the same one for work.”

Hopefully, despite my pitiful excuse for a first message, you will want to message me back. I promise, I much more engaging once I move on from “nice respirator.”


Used for safety purposes while working, this respirator mask is similar to what I shamed myself in conversation with!

You really don’t need any other exhibits after that little number.  Not only do I admit that I was thinking about how to strike up a conversation but then I mention the one lame line that I could come up with…twice!  And we’ll just ignore the grammatical mistakes (Why point these out now? Especially when they have been plaguing this blog for the last year or so).

Nice respirator… why don’t I get a sponsor to keep me from saying these sort of things? Can I hire someone? Is anyone looking for a job out there?  Anyone? No?  Fair enough.

I always realize the awkwardness about an hour after it happens.  It’s almost like my body becomes ashamed of my awkwardholic mind and it informs me of what I’ve done wrong.  I feel it in my bones the same way an old sea-captain feels a storm a brewin’ off the coast.   But, once I realize what I’ve done, well, the damage is already done.  There is nothing else I can do.

Well, there is one thing I can do. I can place one hand on top of the other, fingers unclenched, and I can wag my thumbs as I awkward turtle myself out of the room.

And then I’ll re-enter the room.  Awkwardly.