The title of this blogticle should be common sense, however, it unfortunately is not so common, so I would be remiss if I didn't write about it.
As children we are taught that if someone is pulling your pigtails or pushing you face down in the sandbox, they like you. I would like to know who started that rumor because that is straight up bologna. No matter what stage of life you are in, if someone is pushing you face first down a slide, whether it be the metaphorical slide of life or an actual slide in your preschool's playground . . . well that that, my friend, is a classic jerk and you need to keep it moving immediately. I have no tolerance for mean, nasty or hateful people. Sure, you can get away with it as a kid, because you don't know any better and also with every toddler's parental unit saying 'don't worry, sweetie, he chopped the hair on your barbie because he likes you,' it is easy to get a skewed notion of affection.
Yet as we all delve into the murky water of adulthood, you would think you gain some epiphanic clarity on how flirting and dating really works, right? WRONG. As I am sure you have figured out, dearest readers, despite my hiatus, my blog does not work if people knew how to behave and date like adults. Obviously if that were the case, I would have absolutely nothing to write about! Okay, well maybe that isn't entirely true, surely I would find something, but aren't my horrific dating stories so much more interesting?
Anyway, I digress. The point of the matter is, that even wading through the late 20s-30s dating pool, I am finding a lot of playground bullies. So my message to you is, DON'T BE A JERK. It really should not come as a shock, but 'nice guys' do not indeed finish last. They finish first; as CEOs who live in beautiful houses in Westchester with white picket fences, 2.5 kids, a great dane and wives who are badass women enough to do whatever they want. So all of this 'I have to be a jerk because girls don't like nice guys' I say to you, 'you're right.' Girls do not like nice guys, girls do not like guys, they like boys; girls are immature, it is women who like men and nice, respectful, chivalrous men.
I recently went out to my local watering hole for a 'Sunday Funday' and ran into a gentleman (ha!) whom I have met several times, has asked for my number but never used it. No problem! I know I am not everyone's cup of tea, I also know that every time he has asked for my number he has been extremely ossified, so either way, no skin off my nose. So when I bumped into him mildly sober on the Sunday in question and he was being his charming self, I figured I would give him another chance. Because sure, he was handsome, has a good job, aesthetically pleasing, there was just one problem . . . Every single time he opened his mouth, I wanted to punch him. I don't mean that to be funny or cute or give myself street cred, I mean he was so incredibly offensive, gauche and repugnant, being in his presence was painful. For reasons that will not be clear to you, I will refer to this . . . . boy. . . from here on out as Jack Tripper.
Amid the revelry of Sunday Funday, Jack was trying his hardest to get to know me; asking the usual questions of 'where do you live?' 'what do you do for a living?' After explaining that I work for a fortune 500 company, he immediately made a face and then goes 'what do you do there? I can't believe they would let you work there with your hair.' I should preface with saying my present hair color is not my natural hair color, it isn't even a natural hair color color, however it is not an abnormal hair color. My hair right now is a mix of auburn and straight red. Not offensive, not over the top, not fire engine red, just a bit of a black cherry, if you will. I have done this hair color since I was in college (many moons ago) and I have never had the rude reaction that he gave me. The school girl in me thought maybe he was joking and I continued to stay in the conversation, delicately dodging backhanded compliments.
After he tried to invite himself over to my home I figured it was a good time as any to remove myself from the situation, guilt-free. Several days later, he texted me a 'hey stranger' (every creep's go-to winter move) to see what I was doing that night if he would run into me at the bar. I invited him out to where my friends and I were going and he said he already had plans of being there, so he would meet me there. After he texted me asking my ETA, to which I responded, I got to the bar to notice he was talking to another woman. No problem! Everyone does what is best for them, and it was discovered very early on this man did nothing for me. I proceeded to party with my friends and laugh as we watched him hit on every female in the bar to no avail and depart alone. Of course we had some mild interaction to which he made a complete fool of himself, but that gave my friends and I tons to giggle about for the rest of the night, so we were fine there.
The next day I get a whole long text from Jack saying how embarrassed and sorry he is and how he would like to meet for coffee, but then plans with his brother suddenly pop up. I tell him he should make plans for a proper date and he agrees. Of course nothing comes to fruition, and I am surely not going to waste my time pursuing some manchild. Weeks go by and I am out watching football with a very fun date, and who walks in the bar? Jack Tripper with a few of my old acquaintances in tow. Despite all of his friends coming up to greet my date and myself, he swears he does not see me; avoids eye contact like his life depends on it, positions himself near us but not too close, orders drinks right next to us but never looks in our direction. All very natural. But when he goes to the bathroom as I am talking to my date and one of his friends he grabs my side and keeps walking, as to acknowledge me but nonchalantly. Eyeroll. Let us be very clear, ladies and gentlemen, when you are over the age of 25, it is time to stop playing and worrying about being 'cool' or what you look like, and just go for what you want.
After the games concluded my date and I decide to leave, so I say goodbye to everyone I knew in the bar, including Jack Tripper. My mother raised me to be a polite person, and I have no history with this man, so in my mind, why would it be awkward? As I go to say goodbye he makes snarky comments like 'have fun' and 'look at you, playa' and then proceeded to inundate me with text messages about how we didn't go on a date because I am already on one.
Readers, if you did not read that last statement in a stupefied shock then I am sad you meet more crazy men than me! The problem is that everyone thinks they are God's gift to the world, and all they need to do is show up and people will love them no matter what they do. I'm sorry, but for anyone short of your mother, that is not the case. Getting people to like you as a potential paramour takes effort, it does not just happen because it's winter and you're lonely and they seem like a good enough option.
I could not understand why Jack was being such a jack-ass (see what I did there??) and complaining about me being on a date even though he was insanely rude when I did see him out. Then I remembered the story of the playground. Children get taught that it is okay to behave that way if you like someone. These are the girls and boys in the dating pool. They are the guppies in the pond. Do not waste your time with them, strive for the men and women who bring something to the table. Strive to be the significant other that makes their paramour a better human, and someone that does not need to vie for attention.
So, ladies and gentlemen, thank you for waiting for my long overdue blog. Thank you for reading this long convoluted story to get to the bottom of the PSA, don't be a jerk. And above all, thank you for making all of my horrible dates worth it.
Stay safe out there, daters, and avoid the guppies!
Xoxo
