Thursday, 13 November 2014

Baggage and Bullshit

I'm starting a list.

Not quite the kind you're thinking of.

You probably think I'm creating a checklist for the man of my dreams. Tall, handsome, witty, intelligent, sarcastic, thoughtful, considerate, passionate...all excellent qualities. All things I'd want in that man (of my dreams...he currently resides solely in my dreams).

I am creating a list for the man of my dreams...but one about myself instead of about his presently-fictional self. I have my fair share of baggage and bullshit. I am a woman. I am therefore, inherently, somewhat cray cray. Maybe if I was more up front with my particular brand of crazy it would change my dating life (which is currently non-existent guys, not a single fish on the line right now). Maybe the next time I meet someone I should hand over a list of things (traits, habits - bad, and maybe not so bad, quirks, etc) they will potentially face when entering a relationship with me. Maybe it will weed out the guys who are unwilling to put any effort into a relationship; the guys who seem to think they should date supermodels (who always look like supermodels) that will watch sports, drink beer, somehow maintain a fit figure, and give them blow jobs at the drop of a hat (gentlemen, those girls do exist, they just don't always look like supermodels).

Which of the following is going to be (or already is) a deal-breaker for you?

Road rage?
My inability to have my closet organized in any other way than in sections according to clothing type? (Ok I'll admit to being more anal than that...I also arrange things according to colour...yup, deal-breaker.)
My type A personality? (See above, duh.)
Being so lazy after night shifts that I'm lucky if I brush my teeth? (What I like to think of as an intriguing contrast to a closet organized by clothing type and colour...)
Patsy Cline sing-alongs? (In fact, any sing-alongs at all. I have an uncanny ability to memorize the words to songs very quickly...and I love singing. To myself. Mostly in the car.)
My repeated inability to refresh the toilet paper roll after it's run out? (Unless it is within easy reach of me as I sit on the toilet. Then I can put a new roll out.)
The pile of clothes that gathers when I work night shifts because I'm actually too tired to take five seconds and hang things up?
That I'm a complete shop-a-holic? (As a strong supporter of the local economy I fail to see how this could actually be a negative.)
Infertility? (You can have a family with me but it's definitely not going to come about the easy way - more about that in a later post. Way, way later.)
Binge-watching Netflix episodes of Party of Five, Suits, Lost, House of Cards, and/or House of Lies?
My love of country music and my accompanying small obsession with Garth Brooks? (There will also be Garth Brooks sing-alongs, generally after my BFF, Beansy, and I have drank too much wine. You will need to get used to that. Don't worry, her husband is itching for me to have a boyfriend that he can commiserate with over a dram of whiskey.)
Occasional insecure moments that will require you to provide a little extra assurance that you actually want to hang around for more than just the version of me all dolled-up and out on the town pretending to be a completely self-assured 30-something woman? (Every woman you meet is going to require this at some point, don't fool yourself.)

There's more. So much more. Who (if they're truly being honest with themselves) doesn't have a ton of baggage and bullshit? What would happen if we all just laid it bare right at the start?

"Hi, my name is April. Here's a list of all the baggage I carry with me and a few of my quirks, please review it. My number is at the bottom, if you're still interested in me after reading it, give me a call!"

The older I get (and I'm 32 years old so I can start sentences like that), the less interested I am in hiding the parts of me I used to be afraid to show others, especially guys. I could just be up front about everything, and guys can start being up front about their intentions and their own bullshit. Oh, it bothers you that I can't conceive children naturally? Well, fuck-you-very-much and goodbye. You just want someone around in Saskatoon who you can have sex with but not actually have any responsibility to? Um, no. That just won't do. Oh you were in a relationship for 13 years with your elementary and high school sweetheart and she dumped you two months before the wedding and you're still reeling from that? Well it was nice to meet you, but I'd rather find someone who won't crush me by being the most amazing person I've met in five years who will suddenly decide he's not ready to move on from his ex-fiance.

I just had a vision of how a person would incorporate all of the aforementioned list into one date. One date, immediately after I leave work from a night shift, where I pick the guy up, drive him to my house (all the while raging about people's inability to merge properly and singing along to Patsy Cline and Garth Brooks) where he would see my disaster of a room juxtaposed with my impeccably arranged closet and shoe collection. Inevitably, he would have to go to the bathroom, where (if it was number 2) he would find himself stranded on the toilet with nothing but a skiff of toilet paper on the otherwise bare roll. Surely, this would take some time for him to figure out, so I would be in my room, stewing about why he's taking so long which would lead to me question his every thought when he finally emerged with some less-than-clean underwear. We'll settle on the couch to watch a full season of Lost (because he hasn't fled the scene...yet) and he might try and get a little closer and then he'll get it. The full blast of my terrible breath as I had yet to brush my teeth. And that just seals the deal-breaker.

A

2 comments:

  1. Nice post. If he was a reasonable man he would emerge half to fully sockless with clean undies;)

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  2. One would hope he'd also give me a mint or some gum too :) Thanks for reading :)

    ReplyDelete