My 25th year of life has been a year of job interviews and dates. Basically a year of me sitting across from some stranger trying to convince them that I am fun/sexy/cool and incredibly punctual, reliable and a good candidate to grow with the company. And, not to be overly dramatic, but at this point, I don’t know if I will make it to 26.
The Top Five Best Worst Dates I Have Been On:
1. The guy had the flu. I kind of only want to go out with men who are experiencing both a fever and the chills from now on because in their weakened state, they are kinder, softer, more open to being vulnerable, and interesting conversation just flows with ease. Sitting in a booth with a tall sick man crumpled up next to you and force feeding him soup fulfilled my feminine desire to care for another, while also giving me the ability to tell stories about my favorite childhood pet to someone too weak to do anything but listen and engage me. “Your cat Fred sounds like such a fun pet,” the guy told me, his face twisted in pain. “I can’t believe he ran away as a kitten and came back months later obese, who was feeding him?” I put my fork down, “I know! No one knows!” As soup dribbled down his face, I wiped it off with a napkin. He took his napkin and wiped cheese off my face, “you have Mac and Cheese in your hair too,” he said. I picked pasta out of my locks as he put his head down on the table, “I’m going to die,” he moaned. I rested my head on my hand and twirled my hair, “Me too…we all are, we just don’t know when..” Afterwards, I texted my best friend: “Omg, had such a good time, I think we really have a connection. Like, I think I’ve met the one.“
2. The guy turned out to be incredibly old. I didn’t know he was old at the time he asked me out, he looked around twenty-eight or twenty-nine but he turned out to be thirty-six. I found this out by accident, we had been casually talking about siblings while browsing the menu and when I asked how old his sister was he said, “Oh me? I am thirty-six.” In the moment, I didn’t really think anything about it but later on when I started doing the math I realized that when I was zero, he was eleven, and when I was eleven, he was twenty-two. I know age ain’t nothing but a number, but you’ve got to question the man with age defying pores who is still asking out twenty somethings. The main question being what is his skin regime because he looks incredibly youthful and glowy. It made me think of my future self, me at the end of my thirties- where will I be? I really have no idea but if I am still single, not even a divorce to my name, I will absolutely be living amongst a colony of mute nuns on top of a remote hill in the Netherlands because at that point, I am just one of the unlucky ones meant to share their life with no one except The Lord.
3. The guy is best friends with someone I’ve previously dated the week before. L.A. is actually quite small and I’ve decided that when you’re on the third or fourth date where you meet a guy’s group of friends, instead of trying to impress them by being the hot fun girl all the bros are jealous their friend gets to date, just pick their cutest bro friend and start dating them as well. This is effective, especially for those women commonly dismissed as sweet and timid, because no one sees it coming and it gives you an air of danger. I think Stevie Nicks tried something along these lines and the result was the end of Fleetwood Mac, but all I conclude from that is that it’s not a good idea to solidify all your conquests in the form of a musical group who shake tambourines and sing together. Baffle the bros. They won’t turn on each other- because without their bro who are they? They will just be confused together, essentially strengthening their bond while, if you go about it with class and sincerity, they won’t turn on you either and you surpass the crazy ho category, and get placed in the one just above it, the one where all the beautiful mysterious creatures who can’t be tamed go. If I were an animal in the wild, my defense mechanism to escape predetors would not be camaflouge, or the ability to turn my ribs into spikes, it would be my ability to confuse my enemy in such an intense and volatile way that all they can think of to do is run away as fast as they can.
4. The guy is/was/has been/ an underwear model. I’ve dated two men who, when you Google their name, fill your browser with pictures of them in tight, low rise white briefs and let me just say there are two types of attractive guys: those that pose with their arm over their head while a stylist greases their abs, and those who don’t, but who can run five miles shirtless without any shame. I can tell them apart now when they approach me. Men on the Google in their underoos have an air of confidence that regular muscley men just don’t possess, I think it might even be classified as a type of insanity, but I’m not sure.
5. The guy who isn’t scared away by your Instagram handle and still takes you out to dinner. I guess it’s a thing now, for people you meet to show their interest in you by following you on Instagram. This is wildly unfortunate for me because in the past few months my Instagram handle has changed from:
Aloha_Big Jenny to Hamburger_Jenny to Big_HambergJenny to Regular_Old_Jenny1973.
I already have my next handle picked out: Sad_Flat Chested _Jenny but I’m still deciding if I should throw an 88 on the end or not. There is nothing more thrilling to me than having a man with perfect hair and teeth ask me if I’m on Instagram. “I am, I’m Regular Old Jenny 1973.” The silence that ensues could cut glass, and if you’re lucky they ask you to repeat it and you get to introduce yourself as Regular Old Jenny 1973 again. It’s an excellent way to weed out people early on because for some frail and unadventerous men, that’s all they need to hear to know that Big Hamburg Jenny is a huge red flag, a ticking time bomb, stay away. I need a strong, creative man, one with a heart of gold, one who isn’t going to question why 1973?