I’m 27 and have lived in New York City—a place supposedly full of eligible, well-educated, ambitious singles—for five years and have found tons of guys that fit the bill.  The problem is, all of them are total assholes….I have a massive hangover, nothing in my wallet but a Trident wrapper, and a shirt stained with cheap beer thanks to the cocky investment banker who idly chatted me up last night before asking me nonchalantly if I wanted to “go back to [his] place and screw.” Yeah in those exact words. He was a real charmer.

Granted, I was not at all surprised by this encounter. For the last five years my date search has been a blur of $8 vodka tonics, insultingly obvious pick-up lines, inane conversation with rude and/or immature and/or arrogant guys, and bumpy cab rides back to my 4th floor walk up on the Upper East Side. The results of which have been: a negative balance in my bank account, a 10-pound weight gain (due to late night therapy sessions at the 24 hour diner on 89th and 2nd)… Oh yeah, and zero relationships.

So today is the day. All my friends are doing it so I don’t feel as weird about the whole thing. Online dating used to be sketchy—but times have changed. It’s actually kind of the norm now. At least that’s what I’m telling myself to stifle the side of me that still thinks Mr. Long-Term, or even Mr. Fling, can be found at 2am by the pool table. Match.com is the most popular site, and I figure more people signed up = a higher chance that at least some of them will be normal. Right? Okay so as soon as I take a shower to wash away the booze seeping out of my pores and down a few gallons of the clear stuff (and not Vodka- don’t even mention vodka), East_Side_Chick84 is making her debut.