Reader Submitted
June 13, 2008
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SUBMITTED BY TWENTYSOMETHING TALES: In token hipster fashion, I just got back from one of the Rooftop Films Screenings in Williamsburg.

Not that I’m a hipster. I mean. Whatever. Like I care. But I digress…

I had a hard time keeping my eyes on the screen. Not only was every man there a walking cliche, they were also my types of walking cliches. As in, they all looked the same and I am attracted to only one type of man. I laughed on the inside while David and Caroline gave me strange looks for twisting my neck in every direction when a new catch caught my eye.

It felt weird; I was completely distracted by these guys, but I had no desire to even try to make some innocent eye contact. I’ve reached an impasse lately with love lately. I’m just tired of doing the work.

Unfortunately for me, hipsters are about the most passive people on the planet. Every so often I see the same post on Craigslist (Williamsburg): “There’s no one in my network of friends that i’m interested in dating, and i feel creepy when i go out prowling in bars.” (Weirdly, as they should…oh the complications).

So now I have to ask myself. Why, Leonora, why? Why are these the only people you want attention from?

What is it about their glasses and stupid stupid plaid shirts and zip up motherfucking hoodies? What’s so hot about that job in “graphic design” (whatever the fuck that means). Why do you want to cuddle with that boy with greasy hair that you know, that boneslut, that he styles and shapes it just to look like that, and oh my god I just want to kiss your PBR-dampened lips.

Pathetic. Wankers.

When I got back into Manhattan and walked up Park back towards home, I started doing comparison check outs with the people I passed on the street. Ugh. Who ARE you people in your Lauren Conrad jersey dresses and patent oxford dress shoes?

Text to Caroline before bed: “People in Manhattan are so ugly.

[Photo by quinn]