Ok, so about two weeks ago I had another horrifying experience. Well, not horrifying so much as irritating – highly irritating. I was sitting in the Library Pub, sipping a Guiness, and listening to A. get very excited about Canadian foreign policy and it suddenly occured to me that I have spent the last fourteen years of my dating life (read ALL of my dating life) dating the wrong men/women. While this may seem like a “why-hello-there-Captain-Obvious” moment, it’s really not. I mean of course they haven’t been the right men/women because I’m not with any of them anymore. But there’s more to it than that, and this is where I become irritated.
Over the years, I have convinced myself of a few basics concerning what will make me happy long term; basics which, I admit, became my foundational dating criteria at age 12, and which were revised only slightly at age 18.
Rule #1: Guy/girl must be tall. Preferably 6’0 or taller.
Rule #2: Guy/girl must have darker hair/skin than my own (which isn’t exactly difficult)
Rule #3: Guy/girl must not be emotional because frankly, I have enough emotion for five people and therefore need someone to balance me out. The colder the better.
Rule #4: Guy/girl must be interested in completely different stuff from me, from career to hobbies so that a) I can learn more, b) there is no feeling of competition (see Cruise/Kidman), c) alone time is more possible.
Rule #5: Guy/girl must not be too nice. None of that gross romantic commitment crap for me. No sir. Bad guys/bad girls are all I want. I like the danger. Also, guy/girl must not take life too seriously (read guy/girl must enjoy bevvies, and does not need to have any ambition beyond breakfast as long as they can have a good time).
These rules were not established in any real formal way to begin with, but over time have become my sometimes sub-conscious, sometimes not-so-sub-conscious dating yardstick. Not everyone has met all of the above rules, but they’ve all certainly hit 4/5. As is obvious by this rule list, the guy/girl in question could have been a tall, dark, skateboarding alcoholic. Or a tall, dark, brooding, cold, guitar playing drug addict. Or any of the idiots listed in post entitled “where are you?” (May 2006). Or whatever.
Awesome. System. Ezmy.
I’m not sure what’s more irritating to me: the fact that I’ve wasted an exorbitant amount of time forcing myself to make it work with people who are so obviously wrong for me OR the fact that I was shallow/stupid enough to overlook a guy/girl just because they were blonde, under 6’0, interested in the same stuff as me, and nice. Holy lame-ass batman.
This all occured to me while sipping my Guiness and listening to A., who fits NONE of the aforementioned criteria and who is unbelievably fabulous (and hot), get excited about the same stuff that I get excited about and follow that excitement with a niceguy “you’re fabulous” compliment. This + four ridiculously good weekends = wowza. Fack the asinine rules.
So yes, ezmy is taken. And no, not every post from here on out will be sapsters.