The Answer is Yes (or Dear Future Boyfriend,)

Some of you may be aware and some of you may not be aware, but my new hobby is going on dates. I go on dates every week. I’m currently averaging 2-3 in a seven day span of time, and for the most part it’s been glorious, a real riot. Pretty much, my dating life has gotten a wee bit out of control, by some people’s standards, and it began to dawn on me that any girl that says there are no guys around here is doing it wrong. There are tons of dudes. You just have to stop saying no to them.

I too used to say no often.

Part of me thinks it was because I was waiting on a particular dude to come out and be like “I like you a lot,” but the most I got from him was “you can bang whoever you like. blah, blah.” (Which more or less, directly translates in my mind to “Hi Becki. I would like to bang every girl I meet and I don’t actually really like you at all.” That’s clearly teeter tottering between irrational and blatantly obvious.) So there’s that. Another part of me thinks its mainly because “dating” is sort of a foreign world to me and gives me anxiety. My previous methods were much simpler in that they involved getting drunk in bars and being like “you! You there! Drive me home!” (Okay, sometimes I still use this method. Whatever.) So there’s also that.

Well shucks, what’s a girl to do?

Start saying yes. Duh. That’s what a girl’s to do.

And so I decided, I am saying yes to anybody that asks me on a first date. Anyone. Even women- I don’t care. If you ask me out on a date, the answer is yes. Let’s give it a try over some awkward getting-to-know-one-another dinner or lunch or brunch or coffee or whatever. That’s right; any person with enough gumption to ask me will get their one shot at love with Becki Trudell.

Mainly, I came to this bold decision because why not? What do I have to lose? I don’t have a boyfriend and I’m certainly not the type of girl to sit around and wallow because of said fact. Believe it or not, I actually want a relationship, but I’m clearly not going to find one by waiting for some dude while I watch Twilight over and over and over (and neither are you, chick who incorrectly says there are no guys around). If nothing else, I’ve plucked a good story or two (or 37), some free lunch, and a few new friends from my date whoring. I’ve gone on some terrible dates and I’ve gone on some awesome dates. I’ve met some really interesting people with really great stories and I’ve eaten at a bunch of restaurants I’ve never eaten at before. Most importantly, I’ve been having fun.

However, as I’ve been meeting and greeting, it has come to my attention that some people and I do not have the same idea of what an ideal relationship involves, and that the majority of dudes are unfortunately not for me in terms of anything more than a first date. (Only one guy so far has made it to a second date.) I’ve had some weird things said to me and some weird things asked of me. I’ve had dudes want me to meet their family on the first date, say “I love you” on the first date, and start planning out our future vacations on the first date. I spent two hours arguing about parenting styles on a first date with one guy. Another dude pronounced the word ‘sorry’ as ‘sowwy’ every single time he said it. Some other guy straight up screwed himself on the first date by saying “girls that watch porn are weird.” (Uh, what?) More or less, I’ve left a lot of these first dates thinking mother of god, I’m doomed.

So in an attempt to set the record straight from the get-go, here are a list of things I’ll probably never, ever do if you manage to get past the first date and sit me down for the DTR (determine the relationship) by saying something along the lines of “I don’t want to share you with every single person that asks you out on a date. I’d like to have all your whore moves to myself,” …and somehow by way of miracle, you convince me to agree that you are a good addition to my outfit and that all other boy accessories pale in comparison…

- Unless you are in fact a baby, I will never address you using “baby talk.”

This I can assure you. Honestly, I don’t even talk to babies in baby talk. (So 11 month-old, what’s your take on the use of drones in warfare overseas? Wait, you haven’t read “The Bonfire of the Vanities” by Tom Wolfe?! I don’t really think this babysitting job is working out for me anymore…Sorry I’m not sowwy.) I don’t know who decided that replacing all R’s with W’s and speaking to your adult partner as if they had just popped out of the baby canal was cute, but I don’t agree and generally speaking, I’d like to petition that we end this nonsense now. (Fun fact: the first documented use of baby talk was in 1836.) Okay, sure, if you and your partner are into goo-gooing and ga-gaing each other- by all means, go for it. But it’s not my thing, and I’d rather talk to each other like the adults that we (kind of) are. I have never seen two people canoodling on a couch speaking to one another in this way, and been like “wow, I sure do envy their adorableness.” No, on the contrary, it makes me silently pray in my mind “please let me be single forever. That looks horrible. I’m going to punch myself in the face.” (Bonus Round(!): this will leave more time for dirty talk, a much more acceptable way to express affection and intimacy.)

- I will not Facebook kill your dignity.

I will not tag you at a restaurant with the status “date night with my most perfect-est man!”

I will not mobile upload your face with the caption “my boo” or a joke that is not funny.

I will not post whole albums that are exclusively devoted to selfies of the two of us in our PJs, kissing each other on the forehead, while making silly faces and watching reruns of the Gilmore Girls.

I will not write on your wall “I love you more than the moon loves the stars and all things that love things and here’s a little more love and oh my god, we’re the most in love people in the history of love! Love, love, love, LOVE!”

No. What the fuck? No. I will never do that. You deserve better, future potential boyfriend. In fact, for at least the first year of our relationship, I’ll probably ignore you on the internet altogether- like you’re not even there. And if for some reason after that I decide you are worthy enough to be tagged in a hilarious status update… maybe I will, but maybe I won’t. Sure, I’ll accept your request for an online relationship -if we are indeed in a relationship- but if I have an overwhelming urge to express to you my feelings -which is unlikely unless I’m hammered- then I’ll call you or something old school like that. My Facebook profile is for joking purposes. Not to show everyone that my boyfriend is the absolute best boyfriend ever and that we’re so in love it’s a crazy Facebook love fest and to alert everyone that they should totally envy me because my boyfriend bought me flowers on Valentine’s Day like every other boyfriend has done and will do in the history of all boyfriends ever. (If you didn’t catch my drift there ladies, I’m telling you that getting flowers is not that special.)

- Couple’s Halloween costumes? Nope.

I’m of a genre of woman that is not fully keen on overly cutesy couple things (read above). You know, like joint social networking profiles, adorable selfies, promise rings, and matching well… anything. I am my own person which is to say that if I want to dress up as an octopus for Halloween and that doesn’t coincide with your costume choice- I’m going to dress up as a goddamn octopus. (Don’t worry, I’d obviously make it the sexiest cephalopod mollusc ever to be seen.) When we do hit ‘super couple’ status (Bonus Round(!): we will be a super couple- it’s inevitable…) I want to be able to hang onto all of my awesomeness that comes with me being an individual and I hope you want the same thing. Don’t get me wrong, I love gay romantic shit and I even want it, but I don’t need to be so entwined with you that our outfits match every single day and we say things like “we finish each other’s sentences all the time!” to our besties. (DOUBLE Bonus Round(!): Dressing up is for the bedroom. That’s totally acceptable.)

- I will not quit watching porn for you.

Some people drink a beer to relax. Some people smoke weed to relax. Some people take a long, hot bath to relax. I watch porn to relax. And I’m not stopping anytime soon. Listen, I may cut back on my drinking for you. I may quit wearing a certain perfume for you. I may even quit saying yes to every single date for you. But I’m not giving up porn. (Bonus Round(!): I will watch porn with you.) It’s just not going to happen. Porn to me is as crucial as my 3 o’clock coffee. In other words, I can go a few days without it -even though I don’t want to- but on the third day I will remember how much I actually enjoyed it and be all praising the lord and shit that I remembered. (Fun fact: More than 70% of male internet users from 18 to 34 visit a pornographic site in a typical month…. so mainly, I think we’ll be on the same page. Pornographic web page, that is.)

- I will never, ever embarrass you in front of a server.

My friend and fellow waitress was once waiting on a table and the husband ordered the soup. His wife got a look of absolute horror on her face and then hissed “Soup?! More soup?! You’ve already had soup today!” This tale ended with my friend and I discussing how happy we were to not have a wife ourselves, because that lady made it look really sucky. Aside from the fact that this lady was clearly just a bitch, it’s rather astounding how many couples will just argue in front of me like I’m not even there. It’s also rather astounding how many people have to give me a look that says “I’m sorry my husband/wife is such a raging asshole/bitch. Just imagine my life. Please just kill me.”

This is something you will never have to deal with while being my right hand man. You can order soup ten times in one single day if you want. I will also never send anything back, special order gluten-free whatever the fuck, or inconvenience the server, you, or any other patron in general. -all bets are off after midnight, don’t keep me out that late- (Bonus Round(!): Because I have worked in the service industry for so long, I’m actually a really good host. I can fold dinner napkins in 182 ways, never deliver an unopened beer, and I make sure everyone has the adequate amount of condiments at all times. Dinner parties? Ours will sparkle. I make sure everyone is happy- a little something I call hoe-spitality.)

- I will not skype you while you cuddle your cat with a weird look of pleasure on your face.

There was a while in my life where I only dated dudes from far off lands. I was totally into the long distance thing. (My aunt would tell me it was because I was afraid of actually committing to a person but I’m inclined to think it’s because I don’t want to see you all the time. I want a boyfriend, not a tumor. So sometimes… go away.) Anyway, obviously this meant I was doing a lot of skyping and there was this one guy that I was seeing that I skyped who would gather his little kitty and just pet it while he smiled at me all whimsically. It creeped me the shit out. Maybe he thought that I would find it endearing that he was so sensitive because he enjoyed heavy petting with a feline, but I actually found it disturbing. So please, if we skype, leave your cat out of it. Or better yet- don’t have a cat; have a dog.

- I will not request to prematurely meet your parents/move in/have babies.

Meet the parents? No earlier than 8 months (because you probably won’t last that long). Move in? Not until we’re engaged. Have babies? Christ. I haven’t even thought that far ahead. I can barely get passed meeting the parents.

So there ya have it, gents (and ladies.) That about sums up what I won’t do, which pretty much means there sure is a shit ton I will do.

Now… let the dating games begin. May the odds be ever in your (but mainly my) favor.

(Fine Print: I will not bang you on the first date, because you may have herpes or frankly, I just might not want to. After the initial ‘yes’ to the first date, I can say no whenever I want. Just a head’s up. As whorish as my bedroom antics are, I prefer to keep it to one dude’s bed and adding 2-3 guys to my “list” every week is a little excessive, methinks.

Also, for those of you girls sitting there, pulling your hair, wondering how the fuck I’m doing this- fear not. The upcoming blog will be on how you too can be a lady stud.)

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This entry was posted in a contradictory life coach, a romantic commitment-phobe, an aimless ranter. Bookmark the permalink.

5 Responses to The Answer is Yes (or Dear Future Boyfriend,)

  1. Who do you think. says:

    Haha, tumor.

  2. Stephanie says:

    Huzzah! 3 Cheers.

  3. Louis says:

    Your future boyfriend is a lucky dude.

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