Someone once told me that the reason I’m still single is because my standards are too high. I laughed in her face, flipping through a mental catalog of the disgusting creatures who’ve woken up in my bed. “Au contraire,” I told her. “I think my standards are non existent.”
But last night, as I enjoyed a large DQ Blizzard while watching the latest drama on The Real Housewives of New York, I started reflecting on my dating past and why none of those boys are in my dating present. I grabbed a piece of paper (Ok, the back of a takeout menu…it was closer) and began listing all of the guys I’ve met/gotten naked with.
To my horror, the list had more dishes than the Chinese menu it was written on.
Next to each name I wrote down why that particular dude didn’t work out. Over half of the list consisted of “d-bag didn’t call me back,” or “don’t know his real name,” but the rest were my own doing. And after seeing it all written down on paper, I began to see my friend may have been right.
Reasons I’ve rejected boys:
– Too much body hair.
– Watched Fox news.
– Wears khaki cargo pants.
– Wears a pinkie ring.
– Too skinny.
– Jack rabbit sex.
– Says LOL and BRB online. And in person.
– Two words: Doc Martins.
– Gave me a UTI.
– Man boobs.
– Thick calves.
– Doesn’t know who Chelsea Handler is.
– Serious gambling and drug problem and now living at home with parents because he can’t be trusted alone.
Ok, so that last one is a pretty legitimate concern, but seeing the rest down on paper made me feel ridiculous. (And seeing it next to #C12 – Chicken Lo Mein – made me hungry.) Maybe my standards are too high when it comes to finding a boyfriend. Yes, my boom-boom-buddy standards consist merely of “will he get in a cab with me?” but I am unrealistically picky when it comes to something more.
Maybe a little body hair or some moobs (read: man boobs) aren’t such a bad thing; they’d definitely keep me warm on a cold, winter night. And, sure, the UTI was inconvenient (and could have killed me), but that wasn’t his fault, right?
I’m beginning to realize that maybe I wouldn’t spend so much time with DQ soft serve if I didn’t let such petty things get to me. A pinkie ring can be removed, but DQ on my thighs lasts forever.
I know I’m not the only one with a ridiculous list. What are some of the more absurd reasons you’ve rejected guys?
[This story was originally posted by Lauren – University of Michigan.]
Likey? Don’t worry, there are plenty more faves where this came from.
