So there you sit on your vintage Eames chair, staring at your dog-eared My Bloody Valentine limited-edition split seven-inch with Dinosaur Jr. — the one you two stumbled across that one day when you decided to drop some E and hit the swap meets. At the thought, a lone tear trickles down your cheek and into the downy brill of your right muttonchop sideburn. She left you, and for whom? Some hack who actually prefers Pulp to Belle and Sebastian?! What the fuck? That walleyed, Thom Yorke-lookin’ mofo hadn’t even heard of Dan Clowes till Ghost World came out as a movie! Poseur.
There’s only one solution for you, old chap, and that’s to get right back up in that saddle. You’ve gotta find yourself a new woman — someone who recognizes the subtle differences between a store-bought Atari T-shirt and a thrift-scored Real People promotional one from the late ’70s that’s actually signed by Skip Stevenson.
She should be a gal who knows that barrettes are out and bobby pins are in; who will wear your undersized, faded Levi’s corduroy jacket when she gets chilly; who won’t tell your friends that you only heard Big Star for the first time a few weeks ago.
Yes. You, my man, need Makeoutclub.com, the national clearinghouse for hipster personal ads. Yep, Weezer’s line “Oooh-wee-oooh, I look just like Buddy Holly/Oooh-wee-oooh, and you’re Mary Tyler Moore” has never held more truth. And if you search the site for East Bay, Berkeley, or Oakland, you’ll find lots of people even cooler than you! In fact, most are so cool that they don’t even say anything about themselves, just provide a picture. Of course, the pictures are awesome — no one looks at the camera, and wistful ennui has never been so rife.
But hey, how uncool is it to actually write some stupid shit about yourself? That’s just soooo Yahoo Personals! Besides, the people who do write, such as Oakland guy “DetonatedPunk,” say things like: “No longer will I continue to live my life as a lint trap in a dryer full of the hurtful words and cruel intentions of people. Don’t Eat Lint. Listen to the Sloppy Meat-Eaters.” But wait, we’re trying to find you a chick … ah, here’s a good one. She’s got long dark hair parted in the middle, and she’s looking down like a girl who’s lost her sheep and has resigned herself to the fact that she shall never, ever, ever see them again. “I love music more than almost anything in the world. If there was no music, I don’t know what I’d do with myself. I love my friends, and cherish them. I have a small amount of friends, most I don’t trust. It takes a lot for me to trust you. People have to prove their trust with me. I love cheese, I put it on a lot of things, same as ketchup. I would love the local scene if it wasn’t so emo, but I enjoy it anyways. I’m alone, and truthfully, I like it that way.” Too psycho, you say? Well you know what Bukowski said (and I know you know what Bukowski said). It was something like: nutty chicks are rogues in the sack.
Okay, okay. You’re hurting, so we won’t hook you up with her. But how about this one? She may have a slight Phish fetish, but look at those yabbos! And it says here she likes to “make vegan cookies, and make vegan love.” No offense, but a girl who’s not looking for any real meat may be exactly what you need.
Maybe the real answer is for you to place your own ad. How about trying out the singles section on Track Star Records’ Web site? It’s like Makeoutclub, only groovier! You just send in your picture and the staff will write a caption for you. Most of the guys on this site look like Mr. Spock, so you already have them beat with that New Zoo Review meets the Black Halos thang you’ve got going on. Here are a few blurbs the Track Star folks added to describe people like you: “Frank, you are not fooling anyone. And your parents already know.” Dang! And how ’bout this one: “Mike. Send it back. I am pretty sure they will refund your money. Here’s the address. Flowbee, PO Box 837, Boulder, CO 87263.”
There now, feel better? No doubt in a few days you’ll be making your own snarky comments at Blind Date contestants while watching the tube with some cute little honey — maybe someone who will actually sit through your entire weekly “salute to Arthur Lee” DJ gig. As Pinback said: “And the Ripped Ones say goodbye/While the others meet/ Attached somewhere.”