In Which I Petition “Dear Wendy” For A Job

If the name Wendy Atterberry doesn’t ring a bell, that’s because it shouldn’t. She used to write for The Frisky — the last bastion of hope for pathetic single girls on the Internet — and I would often chide her on my blog for cheap laughs. She used to write shit like “He’s leaving to ‘find himself’” and patently absurd articles about dating. Then she went solo, so to speak, and started her own website called Dear Wendy.

On February 2nd, the first time I ever bothered to check out Dear Wendy, she was reaching out to potential male contributors. Her post stated, “I’m looking for a roster…” really? A “roster”? What is this, a sports team? You started a fucking blog. If you’re calling out to people who might want to work for you, should probably humanize yourself — make yourself sound like a friend as opposed to a manager. She continued, “…of funny, smart, opinionated male contributors for a new feature I’m creating.” Oh, so you’re creating it. It’s not somebody else’s project and you’re just advertising for it on your website that is entirely dedicated to you giving people advice. Thanks for clarifying. The job details include answering “questions about the way men behave in relationships.” I guess nobody cares about why women act the way they do in relationships, and if somebody out there actually does care it’s not the type of thing a man can properly address.

In hindsight, I probably should have raised this issues in my initial e-mail to Wendy. Instead I decided to make my appeal to her more formal. I thought about it overnight, and I February 3rd I officially applied for the position:

Hi Wendy,

Long-time reader, first-time e-mailer. I always found your missives for The Frisky to be equal parts unique and provocative. Most of the time what I would read inspired me to respond on my own website with the male perspective. With that in mind, I feel like I’d be a great male contributor for Dear Wendy. It’d be an honor to serve you and your new venture. I’ve freelanced for years as a writer/editor and recently had a piece published by The Frisky (http://www.thefrisky.com/post/246-the-definitive-guide-to-getting-over-a-breakup/) which netted about 40 reader comments (not bad for a newbie!?) and high praise from editoress Amelia McDick-Party. The whore. I’m sure if you sought her counsel here she would recommend me as a strong male voice that any overwhelmingly-female audience will both love and hate in equal measure. Let me know what you think! I am anxiously awaiting your response.

Regards,
Evan LeVine

It’s been five days and Wendy has not responded. I can only imagine she’s waiting for the perfect moment to tell me she loves my work and I’ve got the job. Then again, judging by the look of her page she’s not making any money so I probably would have to reject any job offer she extends to me. Still, I figure I should show her what I’m capable of, so I’m going to re-appropriate one of her “Dear Wendy” columns and give it the ol’ male perspective.

She answered a question today from a female reader whose husband sent her a crummy Christmas gift from the Middle East. If I were simply answering that woman’s question I would tell her she’s a stuck-up bitch, and she should be thankful her husband hasn’t been killed in combat. Who cares what he sends you for Christmas? It’s not like he’s over there investing in oil, he’s a god damned soldier. If he wants to send you a trinket just appreciate the gesture and get on with your life. But I’m not addressing her question (or…am I?). I’m going to pretend the reader question was submitted by a male who was unhappy with his Christmas gift.

Listen. As a man, I don’t think I have to tell you that nine times out of ten any gift a girl gives you is going to disappoint. Video games aren’t romantic, and electronics are usually too expensive for most girls’ budgets. That leaves us having to ask for shit that we don’t really want, and even if we get one of those items we’re not going to appreciate it nearly as much as we would enjoy a bottle of Blanton’s, a Nintendo DS with Mario Kart and some alone time. So, right off the bat you need to admit to yourself that getting excited about a gift from a girlfriend is not something you should ever do.

I dated a girl in college who came from money. I wasn’t interested in her because of that, but it definitely kept me with her a month or two longer than I should have stayed with her. One year for my birthday she told me she’d procured the most amazing gift that I was going to love. It was a gold bracelet. I don’t even want to try to describe the look on my face when I opened that box. Who the hell did she think she was dating, her father? What kind of 19 or 20 year old guy wants a gold bracelet for his birthday? It was — and still is — bar-none the worst gift I have ever received. I told her I loved it and promptly “took it home to show my parents, but forgot it on my dresser! Oh well, I’ll pick it up when I’m home next month.” I broke up with her shortly after that. Trust me, any bad gift you could receive can’t be that bad. A crummy sweater? Wear it to work with the intention of making your friends laugh. A useless gadget? Just don’t use it or bring it up. Whatever you do, don’t tell her you don’t like the gift. In fact, to say anything less than the fact that you absolutely, positively, 100% love the gift is to write your own death wish. Women are batshit-fucking-crazy on good days. To disappoint one of them will open an entirely new world of insanity that could very well destroy you. Do not tempt fate.

The truth is, how many gifts do you get each year from your significant other? Three? Other than a birthday gift, a holiday gift and maybe an anniversary or Valentine’s Day gift, she doesn’t have that many opportunities to disappoint you, and honestly who the fuck cares? It’s a token of appreciation from another person. It’s not the end-all-and-be-all of your relationship. That’s why all I ask for from Nicci is whiskey, burger-stuff, and the occasional board game or something. Just lower your standards. If you’re like the woman who wrote to Dear Wendy Atterberry, and you really want saris from the Middle East, just buy them for yourself. If I’ve learned anything in my first 27 years, it’s that at the end of the day, the one underlying truth in life is that you can’t rely on anybody else but yourself.

Roy Orbison – Tryin’ To Get To You
Francoise Hardy – Tous Les Garcons Et Les Filles
Nick Cave – Deanna [acoustic]

[Image courtesy of She Knows]