Tuesday, July 12, 2011

Sexless in the City

Single life means not having to say I’m sorry unless I give a shit.  It means I don’t have to call anyone when I get up, on my lunch break, on my way home, after dinner,  or before bedtime.  I get to eat the biggest piece of chicken.   I sleep in the middle of my bed.   I can watch PBS all day if I want to.  I don’t even have to be covert when I need to fart. I just let ‘er rip.  Simply put, it’s just me and my gaggle of heathens.  They know my farts stink.
I have been single for almost a year now and I’m OK with it.  Well, that is what I keep telling myself. I’m not out patrolling bars begging men to come home with me or flashing dudes for beads. I stopped asking my gynecologist if he was still married a few years ago.  I don’t make up shit about myself so you think I’m worthy of your time.  If you don’t like me, then fuck you.  It’s not meant to be anyway. But there is also something to be said about having someone there to count on, share with, return love. Most importantly, someone  to provide butt in the gut time after the kids go to bed.  I truely miss it.
Me being single isn’t because I don’t have options, and it’s not by choice.  I just feel like I don’t have good options. They say there are plenty of fish in the sea. I say the sea is actually a dirty fucking mud puddle and 85% of the fish are retarded from the lack of oxygen. The sea dried up years ago.  I have been on dates and even met some cool people, but for whatever reason things didn’t work out. Now that I am 30 I find myself looking for someone who can do more than buy me a drink and rock my world. I know I am not perfect by any means. However, I don’t nag, steal, cheat (exception: Monopoly), or excessively lie. I do sometimes borrow and take too long to return (ask Blockbuster), I bash food like a competitive eater, and I am obsessive about the cleanliness of my home.  But I’m also pretty, optimistic, witty, I try to take care of my body, my kids, and my home. I have my own money and I’m educated. If we make plans to go out in your 1985 Fiero, I promise there is room for me and my ego.  
See, there is room for all 3 of us; you, me, and my ego.
 That being said, I’ve ran into really, really small pensises, bad attitudes, people who think I am property, people who think I am stupid, people who think the world owes them something, people who just want to fuck,  people who want to use my money,liars, theives, and my personal favorite a dickhead who after meeting him once constantly asked for a back rub, constantly.  I told him back rubs lead to nudity and he would have to earn his. Plus, can this bitch get a back rub first? 
What I want to know is; where are all the real men at? The one’s who work hard, play hard, and know what a woman wants?
For the record we, I really mean I:
1.      Want you to be employed …anywhere….as long as you are on someone’s payroll you are cool with me. And it can’t be SSA  or OWF. THAT DOES NOT COUNT.

2.       Want you to be self sufficient and be able to get your own oil changed…and change mine while you are at it.

3.       Want you to be reliable. This encompasses a few aspects, but I need to rely on you to do what you say and say what you mean.  This also encompasses my need to rely on your ability to get ‘er wet and get ‘er done. Nuff said.  

4.       Want you to be hygienic. Daily showers are a plus.  (I once dated a guy for a few weeks who didn’t wash his hands, he claimed showers were sufficient) Also, shaving is underrated. 5 o’clock shadows are sexy.  Fortnight shadows are not.
This is Joaquin's fortnight shadow and his drug induced sense of euphoria.
5.       Want you to be romantic and this does not mean offering to “go to the buffet “before you ask for a BJ.  

6.       Want you to have a personality. This doesn’t include constantly rambling on and on about your racks on racks on racks, how you are Polo’ed down, how much weed you sold last night. Tell me what you saw on History Channel last night, your vast of knowledge state birds, maybe about the last time you left Ohio (If you haven’t left, you have way more issues than I can address here), or just about your day at work.

Tell me, what is wrong with this picture?
7.       Want you to be emotionally stable. This is last mentioned but one of the most important. I can’t stand to see a man cry unless someone died (dogs are OK, cats are not. If you are a man with a cat that you did not inherit in some way, kill yourself). There are of course exceptions to this rule, but if you have think you have testes, own a cat,  and you cry more than once a month, get checked. You may actually have ovaries, a vagina, and a cat. Fits of rage are not okay and if you have anything diagnosed in the DSM-IV, GO AWAY. I have been there before and honestly making sure you take your medication and go to therapy is more effort than I have to give.  
 My mom says I am looking in the wrong place. She says I need to go to church and find me a, “Good, clean, man.” I don’t think that is exactly what I am looking for either, I like my men like Reese Cups.  Rugged on the outside and soft in the middle.  There has to be a grey area, right???  Someone let me know where it is, because I am going there Saturday night.

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