Why It’s Okay to Date a Dropout

Rarely while I am writing a story for CC do I find myself changing my mind about the subject halfway through. However, as I sit here with my can of sugar free Red Bull trying to muster up some energy for whatever kind of weird crowd will be at the bars during the summer on Thirsty Thursday, I had a sudden change of heart.

I’ve been spending a lot of time at music festivals this summer, like waaay more than anyone who isn’t obsessed with Jerry Garcia and The Electric Kool Aid Acid Test should, so I have run into a few very interesting characters, to say the least.

Now, I’m not saying that I’m not a whole fan of the hippie lifestyle. I’m extremely liberal and I love me some tye dye & hemp necklaces & moonshine just as much as the next chick. I just prefer to have clean underwear and hair that smells more like strawberries than Mary Jane. But the one thing I have never found appealing are the dreadlocked, banjo-playing, I-ate-way-too-many-mushrooms-once kind of crazies you run into at festivals – who basically live and breathe the whole scene.

I have a best friend; however, who is notorious for falling in lurrrve with every boy who writes her a sonnet and accompanies on his harmonica or enchants her with stories of touring with The String Cheese Incident. She’s a sucker, that’s for sure. I always wondered: How is it humanly possible that my friend who is gorgeous, intelligent & about to graduate with a B.A. going to seriously consider dating someone who is jobless, degree-less and (presumably) showerless?

This is especially hard for me to grasp as I am on the complete opposite end of the scumbag spectrum: I won’t give a guy a second glance if he isn’t enrolled in at least 16 semester hours, working his ass off at the local pizza shop to pay rent AND already completing or is planning to complete an internship in his chosen field (that would preferably be law, medicine or business) in the very near future.

Picky? Maybe. But I feel that if I’m gonna marry, or at the very least have some kind of future with someone, I want him to be at my “level” or above. Ya feel me? Leave the losers for the high school girls.

But, as I sat down to write this, I realized that perhaps, I am being a wee bit too judgmental. Isn’t it more important that the guy love and respect me – regardless of whether he is going to grad school or will be offered a fabulous job after college? Isn’t it possible to be happily married to a man who never slaved his way through four years of Shakespeare, lectures on the Industrial Revolution and quadratic equations?

I think the answer is: YES. It’s kind of a weird concept for me to wrap my hungover brain around, but I think there are actually some things more important in life than status and money. I see now, that the reason my BFF falls for these weirdos is because they are happy with who they are and are obviously extremely passionate about the way they live. What does all that money and power mean if you aren’t content? What does a degree actually do for you if you have no real sense of purpose? Absolutely nothing.

I wanted to write some story about how we as women should ditch all these loser scumbags with no jobs and no future plans in favor of the stud muffins in our Economics classes who will be makin’ six figures ten years down the road. Okay, I still suggest that. But I also want to make it known that not everybody has to go to college, or have a sweet job handed to them on a silver platter to make a potentially good boyfriend/fiancé/husband/life-long partner. In fact, you might even find that these guys have more drive and desire to get what they actually want out of life than the dude who was forced into college by his crazy father who is trying to live vicariously through him.

So next time a dude who tells me he’s living with his grandma and had to drop out last semester/quit his job at the local pizza shop/will probably never go back to school asks me on a date, I MIGHT consider saying yes.

As long as he plays the harmonica.