To all my NY-based friends posting insufferable inspiring pictures of recently acquired diamond rings, I have a warning for you. You better make that marriage work, or the ring is going right back in your boyfriend’s pocket. (You hear that, Lala? Hold that $150k engagement ring CLOSE.) At least, that was the case for New York woman Jennifer Rutten, who was court ordered to return her $40,000 engagement ring to ex-fiancé Rodney Ripley last week. The couple split back in 2011, after being engaged for a little under a year. But due to some extremely
brilliant shady evasion tactics by Rutten, it took Ripley nearly five years in court to get this result. (I wouldn’t have spent five years in court with my ex for anything less than a million, but to each their own.) So, how did this get so drawn out? Let’s dig in.
From all accounts, it sounds like this couple was OD dramatic with everything they did. They fell in love while being halfway across the country from each other (Ripley in Wisconsin, Rutten in New York), but decided to get engaged anyway. What could go wrong, right? Rutten balled out on a 3-carat cushion-cut ring, and staged a proposal on the Brooklyn Bridge, a place that’s probably now ruined for both of them and makes inter-borough travel very difficult. For unknown reasons, they broke up less than a year later. Ripley asked Rutten to return the ring; Rutten’s response can essentially be summed up like this:
Rutten came up with a number of excuses over the years for why she wasn’t returning the ring. First, she claimed that she was “dealing with the aftermath of Hurricane Sandy” and didn’t have time for her former fiancé’s “harassment.” This could be very sad and true, but given the extent of Sandy’s damage is probably just a ridiculous lie, unless Rutten was living out on Long Island or in Jersey. But whatever, if given the option, I would definitely use a natural disaster as an excuse to hold on to jewelry too.
Rutten then tried the argument that the ring wasn’t worth enough to warrant legal action. But Ripley had taken out a $40,000 insurance policy, so she was kind of out of luck. Finally, she claimed in court that “ became more typically abusive, emotionally abusive” as the relationship went on. While I always want to take claims of abuse seriously, whether or not Riply was abusive has no bearing on her legal right to keep the ring. Finally, Rutten stated plainly that she was “angry” and “didn’t want to return it.” There it is. Don’t get me wrong, feeling angry and vindictive is v understandable, but most of us would just bury those feelings in ice cream instead of legal fees for a case you will almost definitely lose.
Ultimately, the judge ruled that she has 45 days to either return the ring or pay her ex the equivalent. If you learn anything from this, it should be following. According to NY state law, engagement rings are conditional gifts, and “if no marriage occurs, they must be returned.” So if you’re out there dating with the sole intent of putting a year’s salary on your finger, just make sure you actually get to the “I do.”
Images: Giphy (2); Jasmine Wallace Carter / Pexels
While casually perusing the internet this week, I had the misfortune of stumbling upon an article from the New York Post entitled, “Hamptons Bachelors Are Getting Vasectomies So Gold Diggers Can’t Trap Them“. I pause. I look around. Is it April Fools? Is this a fucking joke? Surely this is some kind of satirical statement about what the world would be like if the Trump agenda continues to pass? Right? RIGHT?!? I click. No. Sadly, this article is real. Too real. And there actually are multiple grown adult men who think that women who vacay in the Hamptons (aka us) are doing so in order to get pregnant and have their shitty rich guy babies. Vom.
From the very first sentence, this article lets you know exactly what type of bro would get a preemptive anti-gold digger vasectomy:
“When Scott, a male model who says he’s in his 30s, kicks off the Hamptons high season this weekend at his Sag Harbor waterfront house, the unattached hunk won’t have any reservations about hooking up with women he hardly knows.”
Okay so like, as far as I can tell there are upwards of 100 things wrong with just this sentence alone. First and foremost, can someone confirm to me that this “male model who says he’s in his thirties” and got dick surgery to avoid condoms named Scott is not actually Scott Disick? This could 100% be Scott Disick.
Secondly, “says he’s in his 30s” is a very strange way to describe someone’s age. Does the author have reason to believe that Scott is not, in fact, in his 30s? I’m picturing a 60-year-old in a flat brim hat screaming about how he keeps meeting gold diggers on “The Tinder,” and considering that Scott does not provide a photo of himself here (probably for the best), I’m going to go ahead and say that I am 100% correct.
Other problems with this sentence include, but are not limited to: the use of the words “unattached hunk,” which made me want to gouge out my eyes, and the fact that potential future child support payments are the only reservation this 30- (read: 60-) year-old man has with having unprotected sex with women he barely knows.
Scott, if you’re reading this, you have HPV. I don’t know this, but I know this.
Now, while truly every part of this article is a nightmare freakshow from fuckboy hell, I’ve chosen a few key parts to highlight the many, many problems presented here by at least five men, all of whom should be deported and sent to live on that island made of trash in the Pacific.
First, there’s this sentence, which will haunt me until the day I die:
“Scott — who describes himself as “Tarzan with light eyes” — typically beds up to 10 different women per summer and estimates that 20 percent of the single ladies he encounters are looking to trap a rich guy with a baby.”
Okay so this definitely is Scott Disick. Tarzan with light eyes? What the fuck is that? In no universe is it okay for a man to describe himself this way (unless he’s giving his Bachelorette contestant bio, in which case, anything goes…)
So let’s break down this math. White Tarzan hooks up with 10 women per summer, and of those ten at least two of them (20%—I know math) are attempting to trap him with their ovaries. Interesting hypothesis, Scott. I would like to now provide a counter-hypothesis: you’re a fucking dumbass.
Here’s what I imagine a conversation with Scott would be like:
WOMAN: Hey, are you in line for the bathroom?
SCOTT: Wow. Okay. Um. I’m actually not interested in a relationship right now, but thank you. *touches small of woman’s back as he walks away*
The article then introduces us to Matt, a 41-year-old divorced Park Slope resident who “works in media and drives a Jaguar convertible.” Please excuse me while I grab my vibrator. Can’t imagine anything sexier than a 41-year-old divorcé who lives in Brooklyn and has a car. Where would I ever find such a prize?
Matt got his preemptive vasectomy in four years ago in May, to ensure that his penis was thoroughly useless by the time summer came around. What poor Matt doesn’t realize is that his penis was useless all along. The call is coming from inside the house, Matty.
According to Dr. David Shusterman, the only man so sad and pathetic that he actually put his real name in this trash, these men “don’t want to be in the situation of being accused of fathering an unwanted baby.”
This doctor knows that pregnancy takes the work of two people to occur, right? Like it’s not something women do to men out of anger. In this scenario, you’re not “being accused of fathering an unwanted baby.” You just actually fathered an unwanted baby because you stuck your big money diamond dick unwrapped into a woman you’ve barely met. That’s why it happened. It’s not a trap. It’s science. How are you a doctor?
Dr. Shusterman adds that these men are also doing an “analysis of cost” because the price of a vasectomy is ultimately less than what they’d have to pay if they got someone pregnant. Um, okay…y’all know what else is pretty cheap? Condoms. Real cheap. You can buy a shitload of them on Amazon and fuck as many girls as you want. It’s kind of magical, really.
Then Dr. Shusterman adds, “rich guys are a population that’s abused a lot.”
And for that reason, Dr. Shusterman is now cancelled. Sorry Dr. Shusterman. It’s time for you to go back to the house, pack your things, and go home.
34-year-old bachelor John (who asked to have his name changed for reasons that will become clear in a moment) says that last summer a woman “pulled a fast one” on him when he caught her trying to artificially inseminate herself in his bathroom with the remnants of their used condom.
What the fuck kind of women is John hooking up with? The average twenty-something Hamptons goer (aka me) is not usually in a place where “getting pregnant” is even in the top 10 of your to do list. If a woman is at the Hamptons hooking up with rando rich guys, she’s probably looking for access to his liquor cabinet and the opportunity to take pics by his pool. That’s it. Do these guys really think that young, hot women—who, btw, have enough money to be vacationing in the Hamptons without trapping men into lifelong child support payments—want to destroy their lives, and more importantly, their vaginas, by having their shitty kid? I think not. Also, and I wouldn’t put it past a group of rich caucasian Tarzans not to know about this, but there is a little thing called the GOP healthcare bill that is going around, which the CBO estimates would raise maternity coverage by one thousand dollars per month so yeah, getting pregnant isn’t this biological piggy bank that women can break open at any time. It actually costs us money.
How much do these dumbasses really think their child support payments are worth? I’m not saying that there aren’t women out there desperate enough to do such a thing (I’ve heard it’s a pretty good way to become First Lady, actually) but this is not the norm. The idea that these guys are encountering multiple women per summer who are sneaking off into the bathroom and turkey basting themselves in order to trap men into fatherhood honestly says more about where they’re going to pick up women than it does about the women themselves. Like, where are you meeting these women? RussianEscorts.Com?
Heads up, dudes—if ya girl first approached you on a street corner and told you that her name was “Candy Crush,” she’s probably not “off work,” if you know what I mean.
Literal prostitutes aside, I highly doubt there are this many women in the Hamptons looking to get knocked up. Having a baby isn’t like…easy for women. It’s not like they just have the thing and use all the child support money to go on trips. They use the money to raise a fucking baby for the next 18 years. Nobody is like, “Oh! I’m gonna get pregnant so I can start getting gel manicures!” Chances are, if you get one of your random Hamptons hookups pregnant she is just as upset as you are. Actually, probably more upset because now she has to deal with your dumbass for the rest of her life, or at least has to go through the trouble of sending you a Venmo request for half the price of an abortion.
So to Matt, John, Scott and all the other men who contributed to this article, I think I speak for all women when I say: You can go shave your back now. K Bye.
Unfortunately this isn’t an April Fool’s joke, and it’s too early for 4/20, but the New York Post (sigh) just published an article called “Why I Won’t Date Hot Women Anymore” which is exactly as obnoxious and anger-inducing as it sounds. I mean, before we even get into the article, we’re pretty sure the #1 reason he won’t date hot women is because they don’t want to date him. But that’s just an educated guess. Like, the article should really be called “Why I won’t date hot women that don’t want to date me anymore”. But before we get into things, I’d recommend taking a Lipitor or some other medication that lowers your blood pressure, because if not you’re probably going to have a rage blackout. Don’t say I didn’t wart you.
The article highlights 40-year-old decidedly not-hot man, Dan Rochkind, and his change of heart when it comes to hot supermodel girlfriends—because all of us were definitely wondering. He talks about how he used to date models, but now, because he’s just such a charitable and nice guy, he downgraded to women who are just regularly beautiful. I think I speak for all of the non-model female population when I say, thank you Dan, for your contributions to womankind. If I had the authority to do so, I’d nominate you for a Nobel Peace Prize. But alas, I’m probably not hot enough.
Anyway, Dan is now engaged to a run-of-the-mill gorgeous woman without a modeling contract. Here’s how he describes his now-fiancée:
“ is a softer beauty, someone you can take home and cuddle with, and she’s very elegant,” Rochkind says. “And she’s 5-foot-2, so she can’t be a runway model, but I think she’s really beautiful and is prettier than anyone I’ve dated.”
Wow, I bet she must be so flattered. And really, our hearts and prayers go out to Dan, deigning to date a woman who is too short to be a runway model. We are here for you and your second chin in this trying time.
“I was dreading getting dinner with them because they couldn’t carry a conversation” https://t.co/AhlGGUPKQa
— New York Post (@nypost) April 13, 2017
Basically this article is like a “where are they now” for guys who followed Neil Strauss in their 20’s. They thought they could trick insecure hot girls into dating them, and once everyone figured out these dudes were just assholes all along, the girls got bored and dumped them. And now they’ve decided to blame the hot girls for things not working out. Okay sure, checks out. Here’s a quote from the article on why he doesn’t like hot girls: “’the prettiest young things had its drawbacks — he found them flighty, selfish and vapid.’” Please Dan, tell us more about how these girls are “selfish” and “vapid”, as you pose with your beer for a New York Post article about how you refuse to date hot women.
But don’t worry, in the name of #feminism, the article also details a couple of women who
are delusional have sworn off hot guys—one of whom is 23 years old and clearly takes herself way too seriously, looking for guys who “makes the most out of their lives” despite the fact that she herself has been alive for less than a quarter of a century. She works in PR and is from New Jersey, though, so it kind of makes sense why she sucks so much.
But back to Dan, the real hero of the article. It says, “Dan Rochkind used to date swimsuit models, but he’s happier now that he’s engaged to a merely beautiful woman, Carly Spindel.” We wouldn’t be surprised if he called her “merely beautiful” in their wedding vows. What do you think the difference between being “hot” and “merely beautiful” to Dan is? We bet it has something to do with being able to see through his bullshit.
Somehow we can’t imagine there are any Victoria’s Secret models out there brokenhearted and hoping Dan will change his stance on dating hot people. We’re also pretty convinced his fiancée is only dating him because he’s gaslighting her into thinking she’s not actually hot. Like, she’s a regulation hottie by all standards. Except for his, obviously.
Honestly, we all know guys like Dan and girls like Carly, and it’s time we stop minding our own business and put a stop to this shit. Tell your friends they’re hot. Don’t let their boyfriends tell them, for instance, they would be so much hotter if they were just a little taller. And it goes without saying, but stop dating these assclowns who think they’re doing you a favor by dating you. Please. Can you imagine finding out your friend is engaged to a self-absorbed prick who says shit like “I could have I wanted” on record to a fucking newspaper right before he gets married? Just think about what will happen if his fiancée, like, gets gray hair, or—God forbid—gains a little weight and is knocked down a peg from “merely beautiful” to “just cute” or something. I would kind of love to read a follow-up article a few years into their marriage, or even just right after Carly reads what the NY Post and her own fucking fiancé said about her looks. Unlike Carly, I have a feeling it’s not gonna be pretty.
Anyway. Carly. Girl. If you’re reading this, blink twice if you need help.