Son, You Got a Panty On Yer Head...

Recently I heard this woman on NPR talking about an essay she wrote for the New York Times called "It's Not You, It's Your Books", the gist of which is that people have literary deal breakers in their relationships.

Being a native of Central Ohio I never really had a literary deal breaker in as much as I couldn't tolerate the company of someone who loved Ayn Rand or hated Dostoevsky, it was more like I was thrilled if the dude had a job, didn't have a mullet and could read at all, period. It was an extra super-duper double coupon bonus (and I didn't care what genres were preferred) if he happened to list reading as high up on his list of things he enjoyed doing.

Holding out for an avid reader totally paid off in the end because my husband (even though he doesn't enjoy fiction the way I do and is more into history and politics) is so brilliant it makes me want to weep with joy.

I am totally biased about reading, maybe unfaily so, but I have this thing like if you don't read then you must be stupid. Not that I'm some genius (my lips move when I do simple addition and I may even go blank and begin to drool) and I have certainly run into many people in my life that have proved this theory wrong. I used to work with a guy (at the construction company) who was functionally illiterate (like couldn't even fill out his insurance forms), but had an amazing photographic memory and could eerily recite shit that he had overheard word for word.

So it's fine not to be a reader, chances are I probably would have had sex with you anyway although I most likely wouldn't have dated you publicly or introduced you to my friends.

The concept of the literary deal breaker is how I knew that my best friend Amys marriage to Assface was as doomed as doomed can be when, not even one full year after their wedding, Assface proudly and pompously announced that reading for pleasure was a complete waste of time.

Amy was floored.

I probably mentally nicknamed him Assface right then and there.

Imagine the shock and horror of my poor darling Amy at this news. Like finding out you're married to Joseph Stalin or Jesse Helms or Roy Cohn. Fuck, name any historic killjoy.

Not that she hadn't noticed in all that time that he didn't care for reading. But he was a student and she just assumed that he didn't have the time. It never occurred to her that he or anyone on the planet could actually be anti-reading. What the fuck?

As I was saying, I didn't really have a literary deal breaker so much but I did have a movie deal breaker.

I loved the movie Raising Arizona so much that I saw it twice in one day. I went to see it at the theater the day it opened with my friend M. She and I both worked in retail at the time and had Fridays off so we went to the movies a lot on Friday afternoons. Matinee prices. We were young and poor.

Raising Arizona was the fucking funniest thing I had ever seen in my whole young goddamn life. M and I laughed so much we missed half the movie so we decided to shell out for it again at the next show.

It was too good not to share so we went to the pay phone in the theater lobby (because back then "car phones", as they were called were only owned by oil tycoons, real estate barons and Hugh Hefner) and called in the reinforcements, her boyfriend, my best friend, her sister and all our other friends and demanded they meet us at the theater immediately for our second viewing. We called as many people as we had change in our pockets to call.

A little later in life when I met Dan and Nature Boy I knew we would all be great friends because they loved Raising Arizona as much as me. To this day we all make references to and quote from this movie to each other. Some highlights include:

Not unless round's funny.

Sometimes I get the menstrual cramps... real hard.

Does the Pope wear a funny hat?

Let me sneak a little peek-a-loo!

I'm crapping you negative.

These things aren't as meaningful or as funny typed out here on my blog, but trust me Raising Arizona is all kinds of funny.

When I was a young singleton, and some man-boy was poking around looking for a date and he either refused to watch it, said it wasn't funny or didn't get it - he was immediately ruled out and the connection was instantly dead. I felt like if you didn't get that movie than you would never get me.

Flossing was my other deal breaker. That tidbit is somewhat unrelated to the subject of this post but a reminder to all you young (and old) single people out there of the importance of dental hygiene.

Now... on the other end of the spectrum I had another movie deal breaker in that I knew that if the interested party claimed to love any number of the Police Academy movies, Porky's, or anything having to do with Steven Seagal or god forbid Chuck Fucking Norris, not only would never work but I might have just run away screaming.

Anyhoo... if you have never seen Raising Arizona, what the hell is wrong with you? Rent it immediately. I realize that it's 21 years old now, but I think it is every bit as good as it was when it came out. I plugged in this scene for you that I found on YouTube. I never realized how much punch the Cohen Bros. were able to pack into a 7 and a half minute scene. There is not a millimeter of film wasted.



What movie, book or music is/was YOUR dating deal breaker?

Dodging A Bullet

I posted the other day about how I don't like to answer the phone. Well I'm sure it's no stretch for you to imagine that I don't like to answer the door either. In fact I dodged a huge bullet yesterday by following my standard format of never answering the door. It was 9:30am. I had just woken up. I was wearing only 3 small items of clothing; a very small t-shirt, very large underpants and a wristwatch. My hair was a scary fright wig and I had the previous day's mascara smudged around my eyes. (My husband is a lucky devil to be sure.)

I hadn't yet had my tea.

They knocked which MDH always says is a clear sign that it is someone of experience who is up to no good because that is what they teach you to do when you are learning the art of the door to door pitch. Don't ring the bell. Knock. MDH, a lifelong sales and marketing man, refers to this principle as Cold Calling 101.

I knew they could hear me ferreting about and then suddenly stop in my tracks the second I heard the knock because when I think that I am alone I pound around the house with all the delicacy of a water buffalo. I also happened to be very near the front door when they knocked. It was a close call because we have a stained glass front door and I was standing almost directly in front of it where I could have easily been seen.

It was a showdown.

I knew that they knew that I was home.

They knocked again and I stayed put. Frozen in mid step until I looked up at my ratty haired half naked reflection in the mirror over the sideboard and realized I was being a chump.

This is my house and I will sport about in it wearing whatever I please and y'all can stand out there until the rapture comes. I'm not answering the door.

They knocked a third time. What great balls you have, whoever you are! It was at this point that I became seriously indignant and decided to just continue doing what I was doing pre-knock and stomped past the front door to the bathroom where I had originally been headed.

I steeled myself knowing that there was now the possibility that they had seen me or at the very least heard or seen my movement in front of the door. I decided that if they had big enough balls to knock a fourth time I would give them exactly what they deserved. I mentally prepared to open the door in my underpants and start telling them all about atheism and godlessness and how rewarding it can be to have an open mind and think or say whatever I damn well please with no fear of repercussions from an angry blasphemed god, à la the video I had seen on Some Guy's blog (in a post called Devangelism from Sept. 2007).

In my crazy head I was really getting into it. I started to adjust my clothes so that my shirt got shorter, my undies got larger and my boobs were even more out of control, so I'd look even crazier than I knew I already did.

There was no fourth knock, but thankfully I came to my senses before it came down to that anyway.

I somehow realized in the haze of my un-caffeinated state that I didn't know who the fuck was out there. It could be my sweet neighbor, Patty with a flat tire or her even sweeter teen-age daughter locked out of the house or something. It could be the gas meter reader dude whom I've been avoiding all summer. It could be well, anyone.

I put on a bra and some jeans, swiped a cotton ball doused with make-up remover under my eyes and reluctantly, sheepishly opened the door.

There was nobody there, but this little booklet was rolled up in the screen door handle:

Darling, You & I Are Through

Last night I hosted a sleep over with my new GR girlfriends Rachel, Playtah and Aria. I haven't had a sleep over since I was about 6 and even then my mother wouldn't ever let me have more than one friend over at a time, so this was quite exciting for me. As my guests arrived I answered the door in my PJ's and slippers - something I have never done.

The evening was relaxed and laid back. I chilled some chardonnay and made my special prosecco and pomegranate juice cocktails, but Aria and I were the only ones partaking of the alcohol. Rachel and Playtah drank sodas. I laid out a spread of nibbly things mostly and made a small dish of tandoori chicken bites and as we sat around nibbling the girl talk ensued.

Aria and Playtah are both 25. Since I too was once 25 I can easily relate to many of their woes and struggles. I remember my 20's as a time of much fumbling and somewhat disastrous decision making, especially in the dating department. Not that I didn't have fun and I certainly wouldn't take back a minute of my youth as I firmly believe such fumblings and mistakes were formative in the happiness and security I now enjoy.

The years between ages 25 and 30 were difficult for me. It seemed like I was standing still, watching as most of my friends paired off, got married, started families and solid careers. All I wanted was for someone to fall madly in love with me and rescue me from my stagnation. I was so sure that being in love was the answer to all my real and imagined problems that I was willing to tolerate some crazy and/or annoying behaviour, although for the most part, not for very long.

Thankfully somehow in all instances I was able to slam on the breaks and, although many times heartbroken and disappointed, come to my senses before I did anything rash like move in with someone or get married. I was always the primary breaker-upper in these ridiculous match-ups. What were the tell tales signs that things just weren't right? Some of them were easy to identify and the situation was terminated immediately. Others were hidden from my sight depending upon the temperature of the spark and factor of chemistry, therefore crazy and annoying behaviour was sometimes tolerated for longer than necessary.

Here are some of the deal breakers in no particular order:

• One man told me with no remorse or embarrassment that he didn't have car insurance. He thought it was a scam.


• One man spit on the ground several times as we walked to and from the car, restaurant, etc.


• One man got sloppy drunk, drove to my house to "see" me even though I asked him not to. The deal breaker came when he showed up anyway and then he yelled at me when I admonished him for driving drunk after I'd asked him not to. Don't ever yell at me.


• One man apparently obsessed with wolves, wore a t-shirt with an airbrushed wolf on it to my birthday party where people I knew could see him. That should have been the deal breaker right there, but I really liked him (thought he was very bright and funny). Another deal breaker should have been when he actually bought a pet wolf pup (cub?). But alas, I was temporarily won over when he told me I could have the honor of naming the wolf pup. I chose the name Ivan. The deal breaker came when he overruled my choice and named it Smokey. The pup was gray and brown and this man clearly had no imagination.


• One man bought me a plunger for my birthday. Just a plunger. I kept waiting for something else, a pair of earrings, a bottle of cologne, a single red rose, but no, that was it. Just a plunger.


• One was simply the dumbest person I have ever met. At first I chalked it up to the fact that he was 6 years younger than me and I continued to date him for a couple of months. He was also possibly the sweetest person I have ever met. The deal breaker came when he told me that he there was no more room in his brain for new information and that whenever he learned something new he worried (seriously) that some of the older knowledge was getting pushed out.


• One man, I realized after several months of dating had never introduced me to any of his friends or family even though many of these people lived very nearby. He also told me that he owned a coal mine in another state and had been captain of his college football team. Neither of these facts could be verified.


• One man was a terrible father who constantly bitched about paying child support and on the rare occasions that he could be bothered to spend time with his child would lie to him about why he didn't spend very much time with him. He always said he had to work. The deal breaker came when I realized this man had also been lying to me about such things as having graduated from college and not having sex with other women.


• One man had decorated his living room with framed pictures of kittens. Not in an ironic, kitchy way or because he merely had poor taste. He really liked kittens. A lot.

What's the point of this post Lady?

Well I guess to make my young friends feel better about some of the more unpleasant aspects of dating and relationships. Also to say that once I stopped pinning all my hopes on whether or not some shithead would fall in love with me and started planning my life around the experiences that made me feel fulfilled I actually became fulfilled.

You're lucky to be alive! Have fun! Think about all the other experiences in life that bring you joy and focus on getting more of that.