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I'm One! Or, Rather, My Dating Column Is ...
I'm 17 and a half.

If you look carefully, my hat says "One!"  Yeah, hilarious, I know.

Sooo ... unless you religiously read AM New York, you might not have noticed that my column didn't appear this Monday due to something I call "My-Editor-Thought- It-Was-A-Big-Pile-of-Crap."

Since there's nothing that journalists love more than posting Big Piles of (Editor-Rejected) Crap on their blogs, I'm pleased to be able to present it to you in its Crappy, Rejected Entirety.

Especially since it just so happens to mark my one year anniversary as their dating columnist.  Nothing says "Celebration" like "We're Never Going to Run This Piece-o-Shit Column!" *  :)

*Uh, AM editors?  I'm just joking.  I promise never to write crappy columns again.  Please don't fire me!


Since this week marks my one-year anniversary as AM’s dating columnist, I thought I’d answer a few of my favorite frequently asked questions (besides "Did you get a boob job?"):

#1: What do you do?

Nothing better than the requisite Manhattan game of Let’s See How Much Money The Person I’m Talking To Makes!  In my case this goes something like:  “What do you do?” “I’m a banker,” "What do you do?" "I'm in finance,"  “And you?”  “Uh … I’m a sex columnist?”

The response is almost always disbelief and sometimes, in especially staid groups, sudden nervousness – as if I might whip out a vibrator and some edible underwear AT ANY MOMENT.

Sometimes a brilliant one will exclaim, “Oh, you’re just like Carrie Bradshaw!” and I’ll nod sagely and say, “Yes, I’m meeting Mr. Big in an hour.”  At which point they’ll laugh even though it wasn't that funny and I’ll laugh even though I've made that un-funny joke about 137 times and then they’ll pause for a minute and say, “Wait … really?”  And if I’m feeling bored, I’ll reply, “Yeah.  You know, he has a HUGE dick.”

It definitely wakes up mind-numbing cocktail party conversation.

#2: Do you want to hear my crazy dating stories?

At least once a day, I get this: “Seriously, I have so many CRAZY DATING STORIES, you could totally do like, ten columns on me.  Want to hear them?  THEY’RE CRAZY, I SWEAR.  Seriously, want to?”

Seriously, no.  (How crazy are they again?)

#3: How’d you get to be a dating columnist, anyway?

Have few inhibitions, little or no tact, and a willingness to forgo the possibility of ever getting respect from New York Times reporters.  Also, accept that people will invariably send your conservative Republican father emails asking, “Is that sex columnist Julia your daughter?”  What they’ll mean is: “How’d you raise such a huge slut?!?  Can I get her number??”

#4: Do you get asked out because of the column?

Um … yes.  Having a dating column is like running an enormous personal ad every single week with a headline that screams: “I WILL PROBABLY HAVE SEX WITH YOU IF YOU EMAIL ME YOUR PHOTO.”

How many times have I said “yes” over the last year?  Maybe ten.  How many good dates have I had with those ten?  One.  And that’s about the average New York ratio of bad to good dates, anyway.

In other words, there’s really no net benefit to having a column after all.  Sigh.

#5: Sex & the City was 10 years ago – isn’t the popularity of these columns so over?

Nope.  People like to read about things they think about.  People think about sex.  Therefore, by the transitive property, people like to read about sex. If anything, it’s a shock that newspapers aren’t entirely comprised of sex columns.

Hmm … Wall Street Journal, you listening?

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