7 Totally Superficial Reasons Why I Can’t Go Out With You
1. Baby Teeth. Have you ever seen a person with a set of teeth that look like they belong in the mouth of a scary antique doll? Well, I have, and it’s not pretty. If I had a penis I could see the appeal, but I actually have a vagina, and my vagina don’t take kindly to your small-ass teeth. If you’ve got em’, at least have the decency to keep your lips over your teefs when you’re asking me out, and for the love of god get me drunk enough not to notice them before you try anything sexual, cause otherwise it’s gonna get real awkward.
2. Adult Braces. While we’re on the subject of teeth… dude, I totally get the emotional and physical pain of braces. I went through it. So did most of us. In middle school. I’m not saying I won’t go out with you, I’m just saying maybe you should ask me when you have less than a month to go on those suckers, ya know, now that we’re in our mid-twenties and all? Don’t get me wrong, I’m super happy you can finally afford the smile of your dreams, but at the same time, I am too old to risk vaginal scarring by having a bear trap disguised as a mouth near my woman parts. True story: I had a huge crush on this guy all the way from middle school through high school — trust me, dude was a HAWTTIE. Now he comes into my work at least once a week to buy ammo and shit and he looks exactly the same except he is a major brace face and every time I see him I cringe at the horribly fucked-up train tracks that are his mouth. Yes, I still get weird and awkward and accept his super-expired coupons, but if he asked me to the prom I would totes say no.
3. Inappropriate Taste in Music. I’m sorry, but it’s hard to hear your invitation to unlimited soup n’ salad at the local Olive Garden over the Nickleback/Linkin Park/Taylor Swift you’ve got bumping from your truck speakers.
4. Inappropriate Taste in Slang. Don’t call me “home slice.” Never. Ever. EVER. And while we’re at it, don’t call anyone else “home slice.” Seriously. It’s really bad. And for the love of God and everything holy, DO NOT say “cool beans” after I have the bad judgment to agree to go out with you, unless making me dryer than the Sahara after a five-year drought is part of your plan.
5. Unforgivable Tattoos. I briefly dated this guy in high school (I was in high school, I wasn’t dating a guy IN high school — bitch, please) who had a portrait of Jimi Hendrix tattooed on his bicep. Having to share our fumbling adolescent sexytimes with Jimi was not something I was prepared to deal with. And I love Jimi Hendrix. If you have to justify your tattoo with “it was a phase” or “I was going through some shit,” just do us both a favor and pass me over.
6. Terrible Fashion Sense. Not every guy I’m interested in is going to wear boat shoes, well-fitting jeans, and the occasional V-neck sweater. I can deal with that. I cannot, however, deal with shants, zip-off camping pants, Kirkland-brand jeans from Costco, or European-style walking sandals. That is some shit that can’t be corrected, unless I’m willing to spend a decade of my life patiently training someone to NOT dress like an idiot (I’m not, obviously — I’ve already spent a decade of my life training myself not to dress like an idiot).
7. Bad Date-Asking Technique. There are certain situations that are completely inappropriate to ask a girl out on a date. If I’m at work, please don’t stop your car right outside the front doors and scream, “Hey girl hey! What time you get off? Can I pick you up later cause dat ass is PHAT!” If I’m in line at Trader Joe’s to pay for a bottle of Charles Shaw Sauvignon Blanc in change, please just don’t. I am obviously having a bad day.
*Obviously none of these “rules” apply if you are super hot and/or rich.
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Even as I write this now I am debating whether or not to erase it all together.
When I say I’m in love with you, I mean I love the story I can tell to my next lover, about my ex-lover, about how beautiful things were, how intense, how storybook, what a couple we were, and how you gradually, inexplicably, painfully, bit by bit, disappeared.
“I used to be afraid of failing at something that really mattered to me, but now I’m more afraid of succeeding at things that don’t matter.”
I was 24 and, while not gay, ever since college I had been getting more attention from gay men than from heterosexual women.