I was in Northern California last weekend visiting my sister and going to yoga classes in the woods. One of the instructors looked like a combination of Bill S. Preston Esquire and Mr. Van Driessen from Beavis and Butthead. He taught us how to meditate by doing this alternate-nostril breathing thing. All I could concentrate on was how great our lives would be after I proposed to him when the class finished. The guys in mountain towns are a completely different breed of men than in LA or NY. They treat women with respect because that’s what they were taught, not just to fuck them. I know, crazy right? It was refreshing to be around people who didn’t give a fuck about how many twitter followers I had or that Jerry O’Connell told me he enjoys my writing. Yes, I just name dropped Vern from Stand By Me. The article in question? My piece on dealbreakers. Such a boost of confidence from Mr. O inspired a whole ‘nother slew. Without further adew… here is my second installment of deal breakers:
Men who can’t fix things
I’ve dated a few guys who have assistants that do everything for them. I’m talking about changing light bulbs and fixing the time on his twenty watches. I understand that successful men are busy, and having an assistant is necessary, but change your own fucking light bulbs you pussies. My sister’s boyfriend chops wood for their fireplace and filled the air in my car tires with his own compressor. I’ve been more self-sufficient than most of the guys I’ve dated. I grew up in Kalamazoo with a bunch of dudes who worked on their own cars and homes. I changed the suspension on my car when I used to autocross (I have trophies, I’m not lying I swear). Coming from a place where men build shit makes me appreciate a guy who owns tools and actually uses them. Also, when you’re sweaty and hammering things it makes you look even manlier. Every girl had a crush on that Dawson’s Garage owner guy from Adventures in Babysitting, right?
I love weed just as much as anyone (except for every single person in the movie Friday) but smoking too much is just not okay. My old roommate would smoke at least five times a day and do things like leaving toast in the toaster for two days and only eat frozen pizzas. I don’t want to be around a guy who is high all the time and plays video games. I wouldn’t mind if Mario Kart was still a thing but I don’t know how to play Call of Duty you dinguses. If you smoke a shit ton of weed it makes you lazy and unmotivated. I’m the one taking anti-depressants and anti-anxiety medication, I need a man who is alert and aware of my emotional state so he can cater to my needs instead of his. That was the bitchiest thing I’ve ever said. I need to smoke some weed and relax, brb.
Bad Sex Havers
It’s not that motherfucking hard, dudes. Women don’t want to immediately have sex with you after getting naked; you need to work up to it. I dated a guy who said he needed to have sex at least three times a week to be happy. He would take my underwear off and within three minutes start sexing me. It was the worst. He wasn’t worth explaining how women’s bodies worked so I faked my orgasms and eventually moved on. Yep, I said it, I used to fake orgasms. Guys hate having their egos crushed, especially during sex, so it’s easier and less complicated for both of us if I just fake the orgasm when it’s not happening. Oh, that’s mean? You know what else is mean? Slamming your barely-erect penis into my semi-lubricated vagina as hard as he could then asking me, “you like when I fuck you like that baby?” NO! I DON’T! YOU’RE RUINING MY LIFE! LETS JUST GET THIS OVER WITH INSTEAD OF MAKING IT VERY AWKWARD FOR BOTH OF US. ALSO, YOUR SWEAT IS DRIPPING INTO MY EYE AND IT BURNS! I CAN’T BELIEVE I’M WASTING MY VAGINA ON YOU RIGHT NOW.
Only about twenty percent of the sex I’ve had has been amazing. The times I remember it being as good as the make-up sex scenes from Waiting to Exhale or every black romantic comedy from the nineties were when the guy spent a really long time on foreplay. That’s sometimes just as enjoyable if not more than the actual sex itself. You should write that down, guys.
You can tell a lot about a person by their friends. For instance, my best friend has Asperger’s, a love for socks, and an obsession with organizing and reorganizing things. But she’s really creative and good at cooking when she’s not adding cayenne pepper to brownies. I like unique personalities. I dated a guy who had friends that I thought were total losers. They had the worst senses of humor and it was painful to fake laugh at their cringe-worthy jokes. I would get really depressed around them because they were not people I’d hang out with separately from my boyfriend. They were obsessed with video games and costume parties. Come on, costume parties are for Halloween, not for thirty year-olds in the middle of July. Also, they were much younger than my boyfriend and smoked a shit ton of weed. One of them listened to Tool and 30 Seconds to Mars…. More like 30 seconds til I kill myself. Heyoooooo!
Non-stop talkers and interrupters
I don’t want to listen to you tell the same story over and over again about that shitty movie you were in. Also, I don’t want to listen to you complain for three hours a day about how you’re not getting work anymore even though people said your performance was amazing in that shitty movie you were in. Enough. About. That. Shitty. Movie. See, this is why I don’t date actors. Men shouldn’t make their problems bigger than mine. You’re supposed to be strong and confident. Whenever I would start talking with this awful actor guy I dated, he would take over the conversation and make it about himself or tell me the same stories over and over again about that Farrelly brothers movie he was in. “People said I channeled that character better than they’ve ever seen.” Oh, did they? Good for you, I don’t fucking care and please stop talking about it. Umm, hello, you’re supposed to be getting to know me and impress me, not the other way around. Bragging about your career is unattractive and obnoxious, if we want to know about that shitty movie you were in, we’ll ask.