I'm already in my thirties. Does this shit ever get any easier? Or should I just go live on a mountaintop somewhere?

Personally, I suggest checking out real estate in the Rockies. I'm 40, and I no longer bother. My observation is that as we age, men demand greater honesty from women so that they can better mess with our heads. Passive-aggression is the rule of the day. Tell a man what you need from him, and he'll do the exact opposite, then sit there grinning at you as if this somehow makes him mysterious, challenging and so manly that you can't wait for a taste of his meat. Blech.

The problem is even worse if you're half-way attractive, because men can't see your nerdiness. They think you used to be the cheerleader they wasted their formative years pining for, and that you've been getting free drinks and meals your entire life. They see you as an opportunity for revenge. Again, it takes a minimum of 18 months for them to figure out that you are, indeed, what you say you are, and by then you're too sick of the head games to care.

Dating, they say, is a numbers game, but so is the lottery, and I've never bought a ticket. Much better things to do with my money in the latter case, and time time in the former.

I'm already in my thirties. Does this shit ever get any easier? Or should I just go live on a mountaintop somewhere?

Not at all. You're perfectly situated to look down on men right where you are.

May I point something out here? Has it ever occurred to you that the only consistent feature in all of your dissatisfying relationships is you?

Millions of women manage to have very nice long-term relationships - especially marriage - with those horrid, horrid men. Other women manage to have numerous happy short-term relationships with men.

With such a large selection of so many different men available who are so willing to please you'd think the odds would be overwhelming that over the years you could find just one that meets your specifications. This strongly suggests that maybe the problem isn't with men at all.

Maybe the problem is with you.

Yes, it gets easier, and the best part is that it's entirely up to you. Just opt out of the head game nonsense and be honest and kind, and while you may still have bad dates, your honesty and kindness will pay off. I've seen it happen with both men and women I know in their thirties, and older.

Of course, you should always ignore the creeps and bastards, both in the real world and in these letter pages. They're just damaged goods.

How long can a dedicated feminista pose as a male poster on Salon.com before some enterprising professional forensic language analyst gets around to figuring out that 'he' isn't a man at all?

Just thought you might know.

Firstly, someone should credit the Nino Rota song that was quoted several times -- it's from the soundtrack of Franco Zeffirelli's "Romeo and Juliet" (1968). I have to say, even as a fan of the film in my youth, that I've never heard it quoted anyplace ever before, and am somewhat amazed to see it referenced here. After all, it's an artificial construct, a "fake" Renaissance tune supplied by a modern composer for a modern film version of Shakespeare. Therefore the lyrics sound a bit medieval, and maybe would convince someone very unworldly that it was "real", but not anyone with any real Renaissance scholarship.

It's a bit like someone humming a few bars of of the theme to GWTW, and claiming it was authentic, meaningful folk music of Civil War era.

Am I the only one claiming "fake" on Mr. Map? I mean, he starts out telling us that his success with the ladies is entirely due to being 6'2" and weighing...240 lbs. HELLO? BMI calculator anyone? That's WELL into the category of obese.

If any woman dared to post here and described her dimensions in similar proportions, practically everyone would be calling her out as fat and unattractive -- yet we take Mr. Map's word that this not only doesn't hold him back, but actually turns women on. Sorry, buddy, but a big gut on a guy isn't anymore attractive than on a lady. And -- as the trolls like to pronounce -- "what? when did 240 become the new 120?"

Let me illuminate another thing for you: no classy female would appreciate you letting people know on a public forum that you are two-timing her with not ONE, but two other (desperate, lonely, self-esteem deprived) women. No, not even if they "know about each other" (all that tells me -- if even true and not just a sexual fantasy you enjoy blogging about -- is that each woman is wishin' and hopin' and prayin' that you pick HER and not the other two to be your one and only. See, I can quote old songs too!).

So three women are man-sharing you, and competing desperately for your paunchy, overweight ass. I'd like to pause remind readers that, being online, people can (and do) say anything they like about themselves....I've read about my share of millionaires boffing supermodels, with three homes, their own jet and a private island....yet they have ALL DAY to post dozens of snarky letters on Salon and other sites. Hmmm.

In interest of fairness, I'd like to say that I have not THREE but fourteen lovers, all constantly begging to give me hot monkey sex. They are all under 30, built like teenage Swedish gymnasts and with a sexual repetoir out of the Kama Sutra. Oh and I earn $10 mil a year from my private hedge fund and own TEN houses and wear a size 000.

*****

As far as the actual SUBJECT of the Broadsheet piece: Men AND women have been miscommunicating since the dawn of time, and no surprise since HUMAN BEINGS still haven't gotten this "communication thing" down pat after 100,000 years. That's why we have wars. That's why we elect the wrong leaders. That's why even people involved in, say, a real estate transaction or a new car purchase, manage to MISCOMMUNICATE.

I guess if it wasn't for this, we'd all be ecstatically happy all of the time, and nobody would ever have to write into Cary Tennis.

But that's not what being human is much about.