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Mumford & Sons feat Skrillex- The Cave

gq: Have You Been Modeling Your Romantic Life After 500 Days of Summer? Our sex columnist Julieanne Smolinski has some advice: Don’t. The Zooey Deschanels of the world will dump your contrived, quirky ass if you try to pull that whimsical shit. Full story here.  Fellows, I beseech you: No more whimsy. Before I go any further, let me say that sometimes whimsy is great. I like a taxidermied armadillo holding a beer can as much as the next girl, and I think that turning a bunch of old Airstreams into a pricy motel is an important step in taking some of the stigma out of trailer living. But I would like to suggest that we take a scented panda eraser to whimsy in the realm of adult, grown-up going out. While we finally, thankfully are reaching a point where fewer men seem to be confusing having a personality with having a moustache, we’re confronted with an even lamer sex scourge: Men who confuse dating with an opportunity to showcase a series of highly cultivated quirks. Outings with a Whimsy Guy read like a kind of Mad Lib involving a series of increasingly diabetes-y nouns. Let’s go to Coney Island to eat ginger cookie and Nutella ice cream sandwiches and make up back stories for every couple we see on the Ferris Wheel while the gelato drips onto our gingham sleeves. This kind of goofiness makes me long for the predictability of chugging a bottle of wine across from someone you’re terrified of while wishing you’d had the sense to see the movie first so you’d at least have some kind of Gyllenhaal-based talking point. Dating can be awkward and nervous and boring, but using whimsy to try to charm your date is the equivalent of adding a magical mentally disabled person to your movie to try to charm your audience. Did none of you see Radio? Don’t be Radio!
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gq:

Have You Been Modeling Your Romantic Life After 500 Days of Summer?

Our sex columnist Julieanne Smolinski has some advice: Don’t. The Zooey Deschanels of the world will dump your contrived, quirky ass if you try to pull that whimsical shit. Full story here. 

Fellows, I beseech you: No more whimsy.

Before I go any further, let me say that sometimes whimsy is great. I like a taxidermied armadillo holding a beer can as much as the next girl, and I think that turning a bunch of old Airstreams into a pricy motel is an important step in taking some of the stigma out of trailer living. But I would like to suggest that we take a scented panda eraser to whimsy in the realm of adult, grown-up going out.

While we finally, thankfully are reaching a point where fewer men seem to be confusing having a personality with having a moustache, we’re confronted with an even lamer sex scourge: Men who confuse dating with an opportunity to showcase a series of highly cultivated quirks.

Outings with a Whimsy Guy read like a kind of Mad Lib involving a series of increasingly diabetes-y nouns. Let’s go to Coney Island to eat ginger cookie and Nutella ice cream sandwiches and make up back stories for every couple we see on the Ferris Wheel while the gelato drips onto our gingham sleeves.

This kind of goofiness makes me long for the predictability of chugging a bottle of wine across from someone you’re terrified of while wishing you’d had the sense to see the movie first so you’d at least have some kind of Gyllenhaal-based talking point. Dating can be awkward and nervous and boring, but using whimsy to try to charm your date is the equivalent of adding a magical mentally disabled person to your movie to try to charm your audience. Did none of you see Radio? Don’t be Radio!