Blog Posts by Laura Barcella, Yahoo! editor

According to someone or other, insanity is doing the same thing, over and over, and expecting a different result. What this means for me: Internet dating is, well, insane - and it must be stopped.

Online dating is something I've done reluctantly, off and on (mostly on) for the past 5 years. I've found a few boyfriends here and there, but not many - and not lately. What I've mainly found are duds: lots and lots of duds, providing me with enough awkward first-date stories to last a lifetime.

Who were these duds, and what were their offenses? Let's see…

• There were more than a few duds who didn't cough it up to pay for my coffee. (It's coffee, you know? I don't demand that a date pay for dinner, although it is a nice gesture. But not offering to pay for a $2 cup of tea just makes a dude look cheap.)
• There was the dud who showed up in his sparkling-white tennis outfit and sneakers -- no time for a post-game change of clothes, apparently.
• There was the dud who came

In the last month, a few of my friends have made the abrupt decision to delete their Facebook accounts.

Though it threw me for a loop, I can't say I blame them. I've been tempted, more than once, to do the same. (And I'm not the only one who grapples with this- remember the official Quit Facebook Day on May 31?).

But Facebook's controversial, convoluted privacy policies aren't the problem for me. The reason I sometimes want to bail is simple: because I don't know what, exactly, I'm getting out of this bizarre social experiment. Sure, FB has helped me reconnect with a few folks from my past -long-lost grade-school friends, dudes I've dated. But do those tenuous online connections (most of which don't go beyond the occasional "hey how are ya" wall post) compensate for the myriad ways FB has driven me bonkers?

I'm an expert at torturing myself. It's one of my favorite pastimes. It's taken many years (33, to be precise) to get me here. But after so much dedicated practice at being mean to myself, I can claim the crown - I am the queen of the "Shoulds."

What exactly are the Shoulds? (If you're anything like me, you probably don't have to ask - you're already well acquainted.)

The Shoulds are that hateful voice in the back of your head - the one that insidiously attempts to undermine your every attempt at happiness, rest, or self-care. Let me give you an example. It's Friday night, and you're beat from a long week of work, family stress, social stuff, school, whatever. So instead of dragging your butt to the bar, or the party, or the restaurant, you've decided to stay home solo, watch HBO on Demand, and eat ice cream (or drink wine -- pick your poison). You're stretched on the couch, preparing to savor the first of many spoonfuls of creamy cold goodness, when that biatch, the

I've always been a girls' girl. I'm into most of that stereotypically female stuff -- clothes, magazines, makeup, gossip rags. (Of course, I temper it with some non-cheeseball interests, like writing, reading, politics, and activism.) And ever since I was little, I've connected with women better than men. I'm not sure why; I just get women -- our fears, insecurities, wants, needs, neuroses. I relate to us. (I'd better; I'm one of us!)

As a longtime feminist, I'm proud of the fact that I've never been one of those women who can't be friends with other women. It turns my stomach when I hear ladies complain about the supposedly "inherent" back-stabby nature of their own kind. (You know the drill: "Girls are sooooo evil -- that's why I'm only friends with guys!" Yawn.) Duh -- as girls, we were raised to compete with each other for love, attention, and approval (especially when it comes to dudes). It's pretty gross, really, the degree to which women are encouraged to hate each other.