First of all, I am a Tumblr nutbag, like I troll that place harder than a hooker on Santa Monica Blvd (if you live in LA, YOU KNOW), so I know a gem when I see one. As such, I was so very delighted to stumble upon this new Tumblr blog, “Your L.L. Bean Boyfriend.”
The blog chronicles the men of the L.L. Bean catalog, fantasizing about what they would be like as boyfriends and husbands. These dudes are all adoring, loyal, handy, dominant, thoughtful, sensitive alpha males who will go to the end of the earth (or Cape Cod) for you. Your new L.L. Bean Boy Toy will also be full of WASP-y childish wonder:
“As we lazily sipped lemonade in our Adirondack chairs, Peter asked, “What do you think about getting the sprinklers out and running through them like kids?”
What is this vision?? Can I just add one of these to my shopping cart over at llbean.com?
See, for me, this is completely exotic. Yes, you heard me right; these men are straight up foreign in my world. I am a Los Angeles native and a Jewish girl who grew up middle class. When I look at this catalog, I cannot compute. Preppy dudes sporting puffy vests and crew cuts have just never been in my dating repertoire.
I believe the closest I have to come to a relatable experience was my four year stint at a public high school in Orange County. I was a little, frizzy, mop-headed mess in a sea of straight, blonde-haired, blue-eyed. perfect people. I’ll admit it; I was way into surfer dudes, but that’s only because there wasn’t exactly a buffet of diversity from which to choose. Sixteen year-old me loved a blonde-haired boy in Vans, and a little part of me still has a soft spot for “radical” bros.
But as I grew up and moved back to the cement motherland of LA, my “type” took a turn, and I haven’t looked back. Some girls are noncommittal and claim to not have a type, but I definitely do. I love them Jewish, neurotic, creative, scruffy, sensitive, funny, and all around alphas disguised as “nice guys,” without “real” jobs. As you can imagine, there is no shortage of these men in the greater Hollywood area.
This is why this new blog is so intriguing for me. I’m getting a look into, albeit a satire, how the other half (or coast for that matter) lives. Man, I love content curation! How else would I know what dating a waspy catalog man would be like? My only real frame of reference of the Hampton’s lifestyle are old Sex and the City episodes, Grey Gardens, and The Real Housewives of NYC.
Say what, Walter? I have never even had a Christmas tree in my home, let alone taken the pick-up truck to go out the perfect pine! This is exactly what I am talking about. I am living these never before accessible experiences vicariously through this brilliant blog. It might as well have been called, “See What You Could Have Had If You Had Grown A Pair And Moved TO NYC To Pursue Writing After College?”
Anyway, as much as I like to look at pictures of and dream about a thick blonde coif in dressed in flannel and Wellies, I don’t think I could ever be happy with such a Ken doll. There’s a reason I have never dated a banker, lawyer, or really anyone who has to sit in an office all day. I just don’t think that type of person has a lifestyle that complements my own.
In fact, I once dated a guy who took me to the most expensive restaurants in LA, and it made me surprisingly uncomfortable. It was weird that we never just went to get bloated at Chipotle. I need a comfortable guy who doesn’t mind going broke pursuing his dream or having a mustard stain on his shirt. I CAN’T DEAL WITH PERFECT…in a man at least. However, an idyllic seaside home with a wraparound porch…that I can handle.
Heather is a contributing editor at the-dah. She is a Los Angeles based writer, improviser, snacker, social media mistress, and aspiring adult. Read more of her food-stained stories about growing up weird at Terrible-Twenties.com, or follow her digital alter ego @MissHezah on Twitter.
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