Before I commence with my thrilling, Shakespearean tale, allow me to provide some background.
  1. It's easy to meet guys in LA because none of them have any shame.
  2. At bars, I typically get approached an average of 4.3 times, consistently with the same opener: "You're so exotic. What are you?"
    In these sort of situations, I recommend answering "North Korean," just to throw them off.
  3. Last weekend I even had one undesirable greet me with, "Besides heaven, where are you from?"
    Naturally, I responded with "Hell."
  4. This isn't because I'm breathtakingly gorgeous or irresistibly charming or they can sense I have a good credit score (although these things are all very much true)...
  5. My theory? The vast majority of LA men are actors and musicians and models, so desperation comes second nature to them.
  6. Screw whether sending 7 texts in a row, 3 Facebook messages, a Candy Crush request, and love letter via carrier pigeon is socially acceptable!
  7. Static
    Fact: every girl has 4719472352 screenshots like this on her phone.
  8. Static
  9. Static
    People who say women are the crazy ones have obviously never looked through my phone.
  10. Moral of the story: if you're a young woman in LA who occasionally takes a break from binge watching Netflix to step foot outside, the quantity of men swarming you will be at a record-breaking high.
    The quality of them? That's another matter.
  11. So, in my experience, there isn't a glaring need for dating apps here - compared to somewhere like New York City, where locals tend to be more standoffish, or Juneau, Alaska, where no one fucking lives - but it's a quick shortcut to an ego boost.
  12. My best friend advised against it, possibly due to the fact she still suffers from Tinder PTSD and wants to preserve my innocence.
  13. "How bad is it really?" I asked. "What sort of messages do you receive?"
  14. A glimpse inside her inbox:
    And here you thought chivalry was dead!
  15. Still, it was my journalistic duty to expose myself to this wanton STD-infested sausagefest for the greater good.
  16. Feeling braver than usual - or more masochistic, take your pick - I decided it was time to pull an Anderson Cooper and compile research out in the field.
  17. To be continued in Part 2.