Well, a couple of things actually:
1. I was in a meeting today, and someone brought up a story from my past. Another person who was not employed at COA a couple of years ago found it funny and said, “You should write a book with all your stories.”
Been there done that, but yeah, she was right. I need to write more non-work stuff. My friend, Ginger among others, has been after me a long time to do so.
And B. I had a conversation today with a friend of
mine who was expressing gratitude that she is married and, therefore, does not
have to subject herself to the horrors of the dating life anymore. During that
conversation, she mentioned having told a single friend about possibly
introducing her to me – to which the friend responded, “Why? So I can find out all
the reasons why I shouldn’t date him?”
That struck me as both supremely funny and as a testament to the trials of dating as a single parent. If you have already been through the whole long term relationship or marriage thing, you have a career, AND you are a single parent to boot, then the whole dating thing sometimes feels like all the energy and effort involved are not even worth it.
In fact, I can think of numerous times when I have had a similar jaded response as my friend’s friend when someone has mentioned introducing me to a friend: Is this whole thing even worth it? Wouldn’t it be easier to just go order the kind of pizza I like, watch a movie of my own choosing, and have a conversation with myself so at least I know it will be interesting?
So as someone still, or again, or whatever, in the dating pool in my 40s, let me go ahead and save my fellow 30+ and 40+ singles some time and energy and tell you right now why you should not date me:
- Ok, low hanging fruit first: Although I do the T25 work out with Shaun T (whom I want to throat punch to hell) daily, I still need to lose a few pounds and tone up. If you were to date me, you might feel some sort of weird obligation to get off the couch and exercise too. And really, who the hell wants to do that?
- My hair is thinning on top. I am probably like the only man in America this is happening to at age 43, right? It really bothers me all the time. Sometimes at night I curl up in the fetal position, cry on the inside, and pray to the God of Healthy Hair Follicles to send me a 70sesque Fro in all its glory. I have considered capturing a high school senior, trapping him in the dungeon in my non-existent basement, lowering a bucket down to him, and chanting, “It rubs the conditioner on its hair.”
- Sometimes I cuss too fucking much, but this is usually in some rant about how moronic someone has been recently and why they should never be allowed to reproduce. Of course, I don’t do it around kids. Or in inappropriate venues, usually. But hey, shit happens.
- Sometimes I snore. At least I don’t fart in my sleep like one of my friends.
- I like to sleep with the fan on for noise. White noise helps my brain stop dwelling on all the crap I have to do at work the next day. Plus, if you snore, it helps to drown you out.
- I may occasionally lie to you. If I am dating you, it means I find you at least somewhat attractive, which means at some point, I probably want to sleep with you. If you ask me if your ass looks fat in some capris you bought on sale at T.J. Maxx, I’m not stupid enough to cut myself out of a chance at grown up time when the kids are asleep. Now if you are out of commission because you are on your period and you are all bloated, which is a very natural phenomenon, and you really do look fat in those capris, then I will retreat to a safe distance across the room and throw chocolate and/or wine at you. Or perhaps chocolate wine.
- I don’t care if my rare steak grosses you out; I’m still eating it – blood and all. I will cook your steak anyway you like and prepare a nice salad and baked potato too, but I’m eating my damn red centered steak. The more you make “ewww” noises or “it’s still mooing” comments about it, the less I will cook it each time until eventually we will be riding past a cow pasture, and I will jump out of the car and just go bite a hunk out of a cow’s ass as it moseys past.
- I might be the cause of bitchitude on your job. It is highly likely that I will send you flowers for no reason at all, or possibly because your ass looked good in those capris and I told you so and you showed your appreciation of my appreciation. But every workplace has those catty chicks who hate on people who get flowers because they never seem to get them. Probably because they fart in their sleep and don’t get invited to sleepovers anymore.
- I have a crazy schedule which includes taking my kid to various functions, helping him with homework, and generally just doing the work of two parents. That means I might be lucky to see you once during the week and then again on weekends. Please save your good underwear for those days.
- I won’t play any little dating games in which you might try to test my feelings for you with antics such as threatening to walk away. I’m a grown ass man. Ok, really I am an overgrown child in a grown ass man’s body, but either way, don’t let the doorknob hit you on the way out.
- I will steal the shit out of your Skittles at the movie theater.
- I might embarrass you with “old fashioned” notions such as opening your car door for you when we go out. (It comes across as chivalrous, but it also gives me a good look at your ass in that hot new maxi dress you bought at the boutique.)
- My house is not always spotless. Sometimes after working all day, helping with homework, spending a couple hours at the baseball field, and then coming home to make dinner, those dishes might just sit in the sink until the next day.
- I don’t own a sexy sports car. In fact, I just sold my Mustang not too long ago in favor of an SUV crossover to lug my kid, his sports equipment, his friends, and our dog all over the place.
- I sometimes break out into mental fits which might include doing the running man in the shower; having a rap contest with myself in the mirror; shaking my groove thang in the car at stoplights; combining the voices of Rain Man, Michael Jackson, Forrest Gump, and the Sling Blade dude all in one big mashup; literally skipping down the hall at work; confusing the hell out of everyone Monday through Thursday by exclaiming how happy I am that it is Friday; and even engaging random strangers at Walmart in a game I like to call “OMG, it’s you! How have you been? I was just talking about you the other day with some guys from high school! So what’s new with you?”
There you have it – 15 reasons not to date me. I just saved you all kinds of time and energy, so when you are sitting home alone watching Grey’s Anatomy on Netflix and eating Bluebell ice cream (just eat around the bacteria) right out of the container, you can thank me.
I’m pretty sure you should show your appreciation by sharing your Skittles when we go to the movies.
