“Intelligence....that’s why I’m still single”.
I get asked this question on average about 7 times a month.
Every now and again the truly amusing, sarcastic people will hit back with a
response for me: ‘breathing, she can’t afford to be picky’. Whilst I should probably
be highly offended it actually makes me like them a little bit more, good work
dad, good work.
I have in fact given up on this question after discovering
that either a) our ideals are impossible to achieve b) it ends in the genie
effect. That effect of be careful what you wish for, it seems whenever someone
makes a wish with a genie they realise how ridiculous that wish actually is. It
always backfires, bastard genie’s.
This is what happened with my ‘I want someone slightly older’.
I decided to start a relationship with a 30 year old. Now if this was happening
now then it wouldn’t really be an ‘older’ guy it would just be a ‘slightly
older than me guy’. Either way at 24 I was pleased with myself for having a
goal and sticking to it. Then I discovered that when you start dating someone
in their 30’s there’s a fucking good reason that they are 30 and single. To
make this very clear I do include myself in this statement. Anyone who starts
dating me in the future needs to have the skin of a rhino. I’m a mental case, I
should know, I spend all my time with me! I can’t stand me! We’re talking about
a girl who stung her ass on stinging nettles, spends time actually considering
who would make a better lover Batman or James Bond and the reincarnation of
genital crabs. So when I consider me in my ..... very mid 20’s I should really
have been prepared for a guy in his early 30s. He was a man child. An actual
man child. He looked like a man, he drank like a man but it turned out he was a
child. As I looked around his other single friends I started to realise
something; the 30 year old single man is a man still pretending to be 20 whilst
sipping a glass of wine on occasion to look sophisticated. I was hoping for
some sort of intelligent conversation, I got an estimation of how much wine you
can drink before it ‘just won’t hold up anymore’. After he asked whether ‘thou’
was a real word whilst I was ready Charles Dickens I decided I wanted an
intelligent man for my next conquest. I couldn’t find one. Well that’s not completely true. I went on a
couple of dates with a guy who was intelligent but had a bit too much arrogance
to go with it. We went for a walk along the beach, across the wet sand where
there are lots of little streams flowing back down to the sea. I hoped over
each one like a 2 year old child which I’m sure brought a little smile to his
face. I jumped over a particularly wide stream and suddenly found myself
sinking. One jump and I was up to my knees in quicksand. It was like a cartoon,
I resembled Dawn French when she jumped in that puddle. Slightly like a
panicked moose who was too heavy to walk across the ice like all the other
animals. I did what any sane person would do at this stage. Laughed like a mad
man. There he stood staring at the girl he had been convinced to go on a date
with up to her knees in muddy sand laughing like a loon, before running into
the sea because ‘how else am I supposed to get the crap off my boots’. Upon
walking back up to the pontoon he pointed to a sign with a stern, disappointed face
that only mothers should own.
‘WARNING: Quick sand, walk with caution at low tide’.
I’ll never forget the look of disgust on his face as I
grabbed his arm to rescue myself, like picking a sticky lollipop from a carpet.
So older and intelligent didn’t work so what do I do next. I think boobs are
the answer. I’m going to date a man with boobs. If I’m going to have failed
relationships then at least they should have an element of discovery. I have
always wondered what the obsession is with them. I can look down and play with
mine all I like but I don’t get anything from it, so I can only assume that
they have to be on someone else to get some sort of joy. So I’ll date a man
with breasts so I can give them a little jiggle and see what the fascination
is. A bit of a motorboat and maybe I’ll have the answer to the question women
have long wondered at.
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