The problem with online dating is that you can’t see the person’s face when they’re telling you about themselves. I think it’s hard for guys to comprehend the world of online dating from a woman’s perspective. They then flippantly toss out all of those well thought out, carefully crafted messages from most of those poor schmucks, and then they log onto their Facebook accounts to complain to their girlfriends that there are no “good men” left in the world.You can’t watch as they smile, and that smile spreads up into their eyes and transforms their face into one of the most beautiful things you’ve ever seen – a thing that warms your heart and makes you realize you want to spend more time with the person. Unfortunately, the reality is nowhere near that fantasy.[Content note: Gender, relationships, feminism, manosphere. Quotes, without endorsing and with quite a bit of mocking, mean arguments by terrible people.Some analogical discussion of fatphobia, poorphobia, Islamophobia.
I’m hard-working, I’ve never missed a day of work until now, I’ve always given a hundred and ten percent.And meanwhile, I see all these rich white guys (“no offense, doctor,” he added, clearly overestimating the salary of a medical resident) who kind of coast through school, coast into college, end up with 9 – 4 desk jobs working for a friend of their father’s with excellent salaries and benefits, and if they need to miss a couple of days of work, whether it’s for a hospitalization or just to go on a cruise, nobody questions it one way or the other.I’m a harder worker than they are, he said – and I believed him – so how is that fair? I looked at this guy with this beautiful beard and I thought, I'm going to marry that man. It was like every bone in my body directed me toward him. I walked over to him and said, ' Can I touch your beard?' That was February 2008, and we got married in September of that same year. I LOOKED at this man, and some weird force that is so much more powerful than myself moved me to him."—Maegan Hagan via Facebook "The first time I saw him, we were sitting at the gate for our flight to Chicago.
We met in the hotel lobby; they were speaking Moldovan, then English, so I stopped to ask them, ' What on earth?