Day One.

Like the perfect mixture of Carrie Bradshaw, Lena Dunham, and that creepy guy at the post office who compliments your feet, which every twentysomething girl in LA strives to be, last night I sat on my couch in my off color sweats and stained sweatshirt to create my first online dating profile.

It’s as simple as answering a few questions about yourself, uploading your best facebook photos (chosen kindly by my friend who I would never reveal. Let’s call him Joe.) and voila, you have your very own OkCupid identity. This online identity has to perfectly encapsulate how charming, witty, and totally strong and independent you are, as well as hint at your more hidden affinities to hold hands and eat fried egg sandwiches where the runny yolk dribbles down your chin, not at the same time, but we can if you want.

Unfortunately it turns out that everything you write is stupid and you are totally and completely unlovable, at least that’s what my critical, too-self-aware part of my brain kept harping on about. And I have to deal with that bitch everyday because it is a far smaller portion of my brain that thinks, yes, this online dating profile is the perfect way to put myself out there, after all it is a New Year and a New Me.

I tried to answer somewhat truthfully and realistically, and by that I mean I put 30 Rock  and Game of Thrones as my favorite shows and for the section “ I spend a lot of time thinking about…” I put the constant question that is on my mind: Who is Cee Lo Green’s target audience?  Because honestly, I have spent a few years trying to identify the people that go to Target for a Cee Lo Green album, and have yet to figure out any obvious characteristic these people share. But maybe it is a lesson that I have to learn to try not to fit people in a box (by the way, OkCupid asks me to finish the sentence, “I’m really good at…” and I answered with “Fitting into small to medium sized boxes.”) All of this is true, and my relationship with the Cee Lo Green question is perhaps the most committed I’ve ever been in.

The profile was created, even though most of the time I was just thinking, “shut up stupid OkCupid with your stupid, personal questions. Just butt out of my life already.” It was a tumultuous 15 minutes, but I got through them. The next step is to be not terribly terrified at the prospect of meeting a stranger for drinks, but maybe that is what 2014 is for. Hey, what’s the worst that could happen!? (If you want the answer to that question, see here.)