This should come as no surprise, but there are people who are worried about me. It’s not because the last time I brushed my hair Monica Lewinsky was smoking a cigar from her beef curtains. It’s not even because my I’ve begun talking about reality show characters as though they were my real friends. It’s because I’m single.
I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but I wish my friends would stop telling me about a “great guy” they know. I appreciate the concern, I do. Everyone should be so lucky to have friends who care so much that they go out of their way to try and make you happy. My issue isn’t with their attempts at helping me find true love. My issue is that they suck at it.
I tweeted this the other day:
It’s not fair to be critical of something if you’re not willing to help remedy it. Let’s take this time to talk about what Jen and Tonic looks for in a man.
What he should be
Breathing. Seems pretty self-explanatory, but there are people whose OkCupid profiles describe “Shakespeare as my ideal man.” Maybe they aren’t caught up on the obituary sections of their local newspapers, but that dude is dead as a doornail. Unless you have a Weekend at Bernie’s fantasy, there’s no way you can go grocery shopping with your dead beau, take him on a tropical vacation, or have him escort you to your company Christmas party. Pulses are sexy.
Childless and wanting to keep it that way. I love kids, and think my 6-year-old nephew is the coolest person alive, but I’m not interested in raising them. A guy can give me the flu, but if he infects me with a case of the babies, I’m going to go into an ALL CAPS RAGE on him. I’ll share a lot of things with my significant other, I’ll even give his sick ass a kidney, but my uterus is non-negotiable.
Someone who shares my inappropriate sense of humor. If his idea of humor is telling me a knock knock joke that ends in, “Orange you glad I didn’t say banana?” then he and I are not meant to be. Most of my jokes end in things like dick punching, a sex act that isn’t even cataloged on Urban Dictionary, or something completely politically incorrect. If he doesn’t like crude humor, or even worse, gets offended by it, he isn’t the man for me.
What he shouldn’t be
Mr. Fancy Pants. I think it’s great when a guy dresses up for special occasions, but if his idea of being dressed down is sporting Chinos (that words disgusts me) then we most likely won’t be attracted to each other. I would describe my overall style as Pajama Jeans meets thrift shop. Basically, sexy as hell. If he shows up to dinner wearing an ascot and penny loafers, and I show up wearing yoga pants and a bib, I don’t see burning desire forming between us.
A bad boy. Is he emotionally unavailable? Does he party too much? Does he think it’s funny to joke about sleeping with some of my friends? Is he a loose cannon? Does he love living the “thug life”? Please, give his number to your friend with incredibly low self-esteem and/or poor judgment. I’m only attracted to guys whose resumes don’t include being the President of Assclown, Inc.
Significantly younger than I am. Despite what some people may think, my train isn’t bound for Cougar Town. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure that younger men are fun in their own way, but there’s something very unappealing about someone whose balls haven’t dropped, and whose mom still cuts the crusts off of his sandwiches. I want to date a man, not babysit him. I’m 31, so I’ll need a guy who is in the 28-“bitten the dust” age range.
The truth is, I don’t need anyone’s help in finding a suitable partner. It’s not because I’m the most incredible woman in the world, and can have any man I want. That couldn’t be further from the truth. It’s because I honestly don’t give a shit. Dating is only a problem if you think it’s some disease you need to cure yourself of as soon as possible.
So, dear friends, the next time you think about fixing me up with someone, please refer to the list above. Don’t try to force two people on each other whose only common ground is the fact that they now hate you for setting them up. Relationships are formed by shared interests, undeniable chemistry, similar lifestyles, and the mutual hatred of knock knock jokes.