Everyone has a type. If the answer to the question is, “I don’t have one,” it’s a lie. Some people don’t want to admit it, while others live in denial, but the fact remains: EVERYONE HAS A TYPE.
Mine? For the past ten years, or really my adult life thus far, my boyfriend wake is littered with creative Jewish types with a lot of feelings and a whole lot of heart. And that is just my serious relationship track record. My single gal dating library card punches look a hell of a lot different with selfish, crazy, coked out, drug dealing, dirty, emotionally unavailable, distant, and ridiculous dudes. Clearly I have acquired a lesser sub-type to pursue in between relationships.
But it wasn’t always like this. I wasn’t always a staunch advocate for the emotionally available, infinitely caring, funny, Jewish artist with blue eyes and a solid beard. Nay, my type has evolved over the years, and I mean years. I was born a flirt.
Dear Girlfriend I Recently Moved In With,
It’s been about six months since we moved in together, and I have to admit – it’s nowhere near as bad as I thought it would be. In fact, it’s actually been kind of, well, good. Our differing sleep habits, tastes in music/tv/movies, eating tendencies, and definitions of the word ‘clean’ have yet to become the relationship killers we both feared they would be. I’d say we’ve settled into a really nice groove at the intersection of friends, lovers and roommates. I cook for you, you clean up after me. I toss you the occasional romantic comedy in exchange for your undivided attention during football season (although we’re still stuck trying to hammer out a deal for the playoffs – I will not under any circumstances watch Sex and the City 2. But I’m confident we’ll get a deal done). I leave the seat down, and in exchange, you take responsibility for the epic amount of your hair that clogs our shower drain (seriously, are you secretly getting chemotherapy?). And we’re both still holding in our farts around each other (except for that one time we both had the flu). And the great thing is, we still occasionally make time to do things on our own, you with your ‘retail therapy’ nights with the girls and gays, and me with my poker nights with the guys.
Really, everything has been great since we moved in together. We’re both as content as we’ve ever been. So because of all these things, I think it’s time we consider our future.
(If you can sense where this is going, first let me apologize for doing this in a letter. God knows it’s not the most romantic way, but I might not ever get my nerve up to do it in person, so…..Deep Breath…..Here it goes.)
I think I should move out.
If you’re one of the millions of women who are single, dating regularly, and yet you’ve had inconsistent luck in the match game, it may be time to do some introspection. I can’t begin to tell you how often I hear complaints about scarcity of quality guys. I hear it in the dating echo chamber with alarming regularity; “Men don’t want to commit!”
Okay, let me clear that last bit up. The idea that guys won’t commit or don’t want to commit is an unabashed fallacy. I’ve said this before, it’s not that the guy won’t commit – he just won’t commit to you. The right guy for you will find you. That’s a guarantee.
Now about this so-called, “quality guys” drought…complete bunk. Seriously, most of the guys I know who are looking for serious relationships bristle at that statement. Because they know a certain general truth that women don’t seem to appreciate; the quality guys are there but you’re either ignoring them or not giving them the opportunity to show you how great they are. But why does this chasm exist? There are obviously variables aplenty that cause these missed connections. But I would submit that the idea of “dealbreakers” is a major culprit.
(500) Days of Summer is one of my favorite movies (minus the very last line of the film; if you’ve seen it, you know EXACTLY what I’m talking about) and a big reason for this love is because of Joseph Gordon-Levitt’s character, Tom. The dude is awesome, so yeah, I agree with the people over at Thought Catalog who named him one of The 10 Best Fictional Boyfriends.
This is how easy it is to make women happy.
Jezebel posted a study done for the journal PLOS ONE about men and emotions; mainly that while men can read other men pretty well, they’re still clueless when it comes to picking up “emotional cues” from women. Here’s an excerpt from the study’s findings:
If someone’s texts you for sex, there is a good chance he is also looking for a long term relationship. : )
Men: there’s confidence and there’s cockiness. It can be hard to figure out which one is which. It can be hard for women too. But please, do not have this mindset.
Sometimes I read something on a guy’s dating/pick-up blog and think, “Wait, what? This is a joke, right?” This was one of those times. And so is this:
There I was, sitting across from him: A 6’2” Swedish guy with shades and more swagger than you could shake a stick at. We were grabbing a beer, discussing thoughts on life, women, and his plan to spend months in the Bahamas working on a boat. We started picking each others brains when I asked,
“How do know when you should approach a girl or not? How do you know she even wants to talk to you?”
He sat back, smiled, and let out a chuckle. “It’s always the right time to talk to her. Why? Because every girl wants me. If a girl makes eye contact with me, smiles at me, or whatever, she’s into me. It’s that simple.”
What? What? No. No. No. No. No for everything he said but also for the idea that I may wind up sitting next to someone like this guy.
At a party with my female friends a week or so ago, there was a lot of talk about nicknames. In an email friend chain, we’d circulated the recent column from The Atlantic detailing the trend for ladies to affectionately (or not so affectionately) nickname the men in their lives with stuff ranging from semi-cutesy (“Hot Deli Counter Guy”) to pretty darn demeaning (“Limp Dick McGoo.”)
[For the record: It is very mean to call a person you’re intimate with “Limp Dick McGoo”. You should not be dating someone named this. If you find yourself referring to the person you’ve elected to spend romantic time with as “Limp Dick McGoo”, please consider that Limp Dick McGoo is not the only one with some, er, functional issues.]
What does he really mean when he says…well…anything.
Learn respect, then show respect.
Celebrated on March 14th, Steak and Blowjob Day is a holiday for men, celebrated the month after Valentine’s Day — a holiday for women.
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