"Love: Really Now, There Is No Topic More Depressing" is generally the theme of the Sunday New York Times feature "Modern Love," whose most famous installment chronicled the author's efforts to train her husband as she might any other mammal of above-average intelligence. (Other columns have grappled with how hard it is to get into sex when you're a stripper, the profound sense of alienation that follows an unwanted divorce, how dudes today are irredeemably awful and women could potentially be worse, etc.) Yesterday's installment, the winner of a college essay contest, did not diverge from this theme. The author, a woman born in the late eighties, reflects on a few brief years spent dating noncommittal dudes in New York. "Over the summer there was the Jesuit taking a break from the seminary," she writes. He stopped calling after she refused to sleep with him on their third date. Now, clearly, she probably should have known better, since a dude just out of the seminary is not going to want to fuck around on second base (or whatever) but the overall message was kind of creepy-familiar, reminding me of this one time a friend and sometime fuck-buddy asked of me, "Who made you so cold?"
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