The time I wrote a sketch about hipsters so I could date hipsters

In 2012, I wrote a sketch about hipster guys with beards. Because if there's ONE thing the internet is lacking, it's videos poking fun of hipsters. After writing it, I spent many months handing my number to many bearded men at many bars, under the guise of "casting." This led to interesting and new dating experiences that started with conversations like this one:

ME: Excuse me, but have you ever acted?

BEARDED GUY: (rightfully wary) Uh, no. I own a bicycle shop/I work from home as a social media director/I’m studying Chinese medicine/Well right now, I'm a sous chef. But I really want to open a gluten-free pastry trailer.

ME: I'm a comedy writer*, and you have the perfect look for a sketch I've written.

At this point, the bearded guy warms up, suddenly thinks I'm a "big deal," and that he's in the process of being "discovered." I imagine that in his mind, he's relating a story to his future grandchildren about how he was once approached by a petite persistent woman who helped make him, and ultimately his fixed gear bike/Twitter account/acupuncture business/gluten-free bear claw, famous. Or more likely, he knows I’m hitting on him, and he’s fine with it. He’s in. I’m in. We’re all in.

I'm ashamed to say that I felt a bit like Burt Reynolds in Boogie Nights. Except instead of offering the promise of fame to lure good-looking, neglected, young people into a porn empire, I used the selling point of potential YouTube hits to persuade men resembling lumberjacks into chatting over drinks and dinner.

Some of those guys were cool. Some were not. One received a string of emasculating texts and Facebook messages from me. Shockingly, none of them ended up working on my comedy sketch.

After a long stretch of binge dating, I, being of sound, rational judgment, decided to take a six-month hiatus from guys. What can I say? I appreciate an extreme challenge and stringent timeline. Amazingly, my life became a lot more functional, once I succumbed to the fact that I was going to be the only person in it for a while. Instead of talking to, let’s face it, strangers over happy hours about all the work I was thinking of doing, I actually had the time to start doing the work I’d been thinking about.

When I finally stopped chasing bearded hipsters, I was able to produce a sketch about them. Check it out; it’s a commercial parody advertising a product to nourish ironic hipster facial hair.

P.S. No actors involved were harmed/harassed/encouraged to spend quality time with me watching Netflix/received emasculating texts, etc. during the filming of this parody. It's also on Funny or Die, if watching it on YouTube feels too mainstream.