I’ve never met Julia Allison—or Julia™—but I think I speak for a lot of people when I say: Gimme a freakin’ break.

Beneath her chipper You Go, Girl–isms, Julia’s central message is a tired old tap dance: Embrace your fat, sloppy, unlovable self! Make it work, girlfriend! If you don’t love you, why would anyone else?!?

That’s fine advice—if you happen to look like Julia Allison.

Her TM is the American Dream: perky, easily excitable and whitewashed to a fault. She works the camera. She giggles when stupid men say stupid things. And while she’s probably an okay chick deep down, it’s her brand that ruins it for the rest of us. How do you sell to your niche sector when the Julia Allisons of the world have an oligopoly on the market expectations?

When I go out with friends, Ashlea™ branding in full effect, I’m still the designated Purse Guard: I sit by myself at a table full of handbags and watch men swarm the Julia Allison™ types like rats in a Chinatown Dumpster. Mother says I’m “intimidating,” but isn’t that what mothers say when their kids are too unsightly for even an arranged marriage? I couldn’t turn a suit’s head on the subway if I were selling stock-market tips, and I’ve all but given up on indie boys who purport to like indie girls but, offered the chance, would take a toned, vanilla goddess any day. I’m no longer on the market, but past campaigns have netted predictable results: I’ve got it made only if I’m pining for a geriatric and/or homeless man.

My advice: Some folks have it and some folks don’t. If you don’t, find somebody else whose mom calls them intimidating, and call it a day.

Ashlea's response refers to a dating approach espoused by our somewhat notorious columnist Julia Allison. See the original essay and vote on which woman is telling it like it is.