(with a debt of gratitude and inspiration to the fine folks at New York Magazine)
I can’t possibly be the only one who’s overwhelmed by this.
EDIT: Apparently none of you have ever seen New York Magazine’s Approval Matrix before. Also, apparently some of you actually thought New York Magazine published the above image, when it truth it was just me working out all of my bad date stories via Photoshop. I’m sorry. I’m the worst. I’m apparently not great at blending hyper-intellectual pretentiousness with dick jokes.
In case you were confused, here’s my new take on what trying to have casual sex in your twenties looks like: