As a chronically single woman in my thirties, I have been subjected to so much half-baked dating advice it would make even the strongest person break out in hives. I’ve been told it all: “You have to put yourself out there!” / “You’ll find it when you least expect it!” / “Have you tried a run club?” There is nothing more insulting, though, than when someone tells me that I’m “just too picky.”
Especially since these days I only have one standard. Like literally just one. I have been emotionally beat up for years and I get that time is running out for me, but even so I need to be true to myself. When it comes to hitting the sack, you can be anything except someone who collects Funko Pops.
This, to me, seems quite reasonable. On the other hand, if you were to ask my friends you would think I’m talking crazy. As if not wanting to fornicate with someone who collects Funko Pops is as outrageous as only holding out for Edward Cullen, Magic Mike, and/or Megan Fox/Thee Stallion. I’m a regular person looking for other real people. I just hope that they also don’t collect Funko Pops. There has to be more people who don’t collect these square-headed fuckers than those who do? Right?? Right?????
Honestly, the way that my friends are dogging on me for my one (very reasonable!!!) dating requirement is making me feel really self-conscious. Actually, what the hell is that all about? Why does everyone act like my dating pool ONLY consists of people who dedicate shelf space to PFAS-ridden fandom dolls? What does that say about me? We don’t have time to unpack that—this is an existential crisis.
I guess I will now try to defend myself about my Funko Pop-related celibacy, even though I really don’t think I need to justify myself. Let’s face it: these little figurines are not only super fucking ugly, they are also unimaginative and wasteful. They all look the same. They reflect poor taste. If you’re chuffed about a Funko Pop, you’re telling me that you have no standards. You’d fuck anyone, just like you’d put anything in your living room for guests to see.
Like, sure, sometimes you get a green one that’s the Hulk, but most Funko Pops are based off of fictional characters who are just wearing, like, normal clothes. Oh you think that your bookcase full of big-eyed square freaks who are wearing a variety of trench coats and flannel shirts is interesting? Do you think that will turn me on??? DO YOU??? What kind of girl do you think I am!
Poor aesthetics aside, the substances used to make a Funko Pop are both secret and extremely toxic. This shit is just oozing into our groundwater, poisoning us and giving babies webbed toes (or something, probably). Funko Pops are the data centers of collectible figurines. The environmental collapse of the world is actually making me super un-horny recently, so why would I ever date someone who isn’t actively composting or at least carrying a reusable grocery bag? Even if it won’t make much impact on a grand scale, it is the thought that counts.
There’s probably at least one reader, sweating through this whole article, feeling defensive over their choice of collectible figurines. If this is you, you might be wondering how many Funko Pops is too many Funko Pops in my eyes. Truly, one is too many…BUT as I have said before I am willing to compromise most of my ethics and core values in the pursuit of love so I will accept a few excuses. We are all victims of the Barnes and Noble fandom complex at one point in our lives—even I am not perfect in this regard. If you have one Funko Pop, that’s okay. If you have two, it’s only okay if at least one of them was a gift and you had no means of returning it. Any more than that, please do not talk to me.