Warning: Angry Word Vomit

I have nothing to share.

Sorry. What can I say? 

My parents are getting divorced. I think I just broke up with one of my friends because I can't deal with the kind of maintenance the relationships requires. I have to write a gajillion papers. Money is tighter than a hipster's pants. I work 950 hours a week.

So, please, tell me when I'm supposed to be looking for Mr. Right? Hell, when am I supposed to look for Mr. Right-Now?

I guess, really, what I'm saying is this: if one more person tells me that I need to put more effort into finding a boyfriend right now in my life, I'm going to go ape-shit.

Yes, I'm single. Yes, I would love to have someone who cares for and supports me that I can, in turn, care for and support. But you know what? That doesn't just jump out of the bushes when you walk down the street. It takes looking to find a guy worth the effort, and right now, time is what I just don't have.

I'm not giving up, my eyes are still peeled. I just needed to vent that because I hate the way people who have never in their lives been totally single with no one at all interested in them think they can tell me (and people like me) that we should just get significant others. As though we can go to Target and pick one up. 

They're people. Not tampons. He has to like me. And I have to like him. It doesn't work one-way. I like Adam Levine. He's not my boyfriend. See how that works?

Oh, and if I happen to be ringing a cute guy up, I don't need anyone standing over my shoulder watching ("helping") so they can tell me what I did wrong. I don't need anyone telling me that I let my future walk out the door, or that he drove away in a BMW with an UoAlabama Alumni tag on it. 

Honestly, yeah, he was cute, but U------ stood there and starred at me, so I already felt super uncomfortable. Then, while he was actually checking out, he didn't make eye contact with me. Not once. That's rude. So, I don't are how many nice cars or degrees he has, if he can't treat a cashier like a person, then I'm in no way interested. 

So, there it is: my super explosion. If you read the whole thing, you should get a cookie. I apologize. I'll go back to just noting random hot guys now.

The Cowboy Casa-never

I almost forgot all about this, but you're in luck because I just remembered.

As I've said before, my co-workers have made it their solemn mission to find me a man. This has entailed flirting lesson, styling tips, a field trip to the club, and lots of advice. But one of them has taken it to a whole new level.

Very often, they start sentences with "We saw this guy, and I was like he'd be perfect for Elizabeth..." Now, however, E---- has gotten a little desperate for me. She's started asking guys if they'd be interested in me. And not guys she knows. Guys at work. Customers. Yeah.

So, recently, we were doing a closing shift together, and she said, "I need to tell you what happened the other night."

So, what happened was this: This guy wearing a cowboy hat came in, and for some reason, E---- decided to ask him if he'd be interested in me.

Now, I stopped her at cowboy hat, because there are only two reasons a guy would wear a cowboy hat to a pharmacy (or anywhere really). One, he's actually a cowboy, in which case, fine. Or two, he's a colossal asshole, which doesn't interest me at all. When I asked why she thought he would be a good match for me, she said he "talked kind of smart" and "seemed a little cun-tree." So, from that, I was able to deduce that he was Cowboy Hat Type 2, and knew not to hold my breath for a happy ending to her story.

So, anyway, she apparently said something along the lines of "are you single, because I have this friend--"

And before she finished the question, he snapped, "I don't do that kind of stuff."

Now, I agree that E----'s approach was more than a little clumsy, but seriously, dude? You just got second-hand hit-on (sort of), and you're gonna choose now to prove my Cowboy Hat Hypothesis? A more appropriate response would have been, "I'm flattered, but I'm not interested. Thanks though, crazy lady."

But the part that gets me is "that kind of stuff." What kind of stuff? A blind date? Being second-hand hit-on? Did he think E---- was inviting him to some sort of creepy-random-stranger-orgy? Did he think she was about to pay him to take me on a date then dump pigs' blood on me so that I would end up the star of my very own horror movie? What?

So, anyway, that's the story of another disastrous attempt to find me a date that blew up on the launch pad without ever leaving the ground. All the second-hand rejection is starting to mess with E----'s mind a little. If I don't get a date soon, she's going to start putting ads on craigslist for me, or something, but for me, it's all funny as hell in a depressing, forever alone kind of way.

The Way You Flirt, Sir...

...it pisses me off.

Tonight, I worked 11am to almost 10pm. About eight hours into my shift a couple of guys came in They may have been a little older than me, but not much, and they were okay looking guys; you know, not movie stars, but not skeezy or gross. Anyway, I said hello when they walked in, then went about my business.

A few minutes later, the Talker walked up to me and said, "I'm ready to check out, are you ready to check me out?" Like right up in my face. Now, it's true, if my day up 'til then hadn't been quite so stupid, I probably wouldn't have been so bothered by his tone, but today pretty much sucked, so I regret nothing.

I went to the register, and was checking him out, and he just kept asking me things and talking to me in the same tone where I knew he was joking (and probably trying to flirt) but really all he was accomplishing was pissing me off. At one point, he said, "Oh, you don't have to keep calling me 'sir,' you're probably older than me, anyway."

At this point, I feel that I need to interject that I can't even get into rated R movies without every employee in the theatre checking my I.D., so no, I don't look old, asshat. I mean, seriously, how the hell was I supposed to respond to that? After that he asked if I'd had a long day, because "the humor's just not rolling on you the right way." I said that my day had, in fact, been long, that I'd been there since 11 and didn't get off until 9:30.

Then, it was his friend's turn to check out, and the Talker still wouldn't shut up! He said, "This guy [his friend] will smile at you to make you day better. [Friend], smile at her." His friend then said, "Shut up, [Talker's-Real-Name-That-I-Didn't-Catch]," under his breath. That got sort of a derisive snort from me, which was apparently encouragement for the Talker, who then proceeded to celebrate his ability to get any reaction (which, I'll admit, at that point, it was pretty impressive, because usually that deep into a stupid predicament, I'm totally shut down, and not even pay attention to anything but escape) from me at all.

Thankfully, they didn't hang around. That whole story might have ended a lot differently if I had been in better humor, but seriously, dude, your idea of flirting is stuck in the third grade. Teasing and talking down to me is not the quickest way to my heart. In fact, it's pretty damn close to the quickest way to piss me off. So, I have yet again, successfully shut down a guy who might possibly have been interested in me. Fuck my life.

With Friends Like That, I'd Be Better Off With Enemies

There's this man, old man, that works next door to the drugstore I work at, and he buys his cigarettes from us. He also has a not so subtle crush on me. He's 51. That's 5 years older than my dad. And he works part-time at a fast food chain, has been evicted twice in the last year, and is greasy, icky, gross, skeezy.

So, pretty much every time he comes in, my coworkers find a way to make me talk to him. Tonight I was zoning the back when E----- paged me to the front. I didn't see him until it was too late to turn around and hide, so I had to go up to ask what she needed even though U------ was up there and could have taken care of anything she needed. When I asked what she needed (I was already pretty sure of the answer), she said that J--- just wanted to speak to me and make my day.

The whole time J--- was talking, I was glaring daggers at U------ and E-----. If I could have killed them then, I would have. He just kept talking about going home to bake a cheesecake (which they were quick to tell him I liked and would love to try), and how his online classes are going.

Eventually, he ran out of things to say (twice) and he just stood there looking at me awkwardly while I imagined U------ and E----- spontaneously combusting.

Finally, an old couple walked up and asked me where something was. Now, I knew we didn't have what they wanted, and I knew exactly where it would be if we carried it, but I insisted on helping them look for it as though it might actually be there. I pretty much ran to the back with them without even acknowledging that I was walking away from a conversation.

The lady even said that they didn't mean to interrupt, but I told her it was fine. Then, when I walked back up front, I made absolutely certain that J--- was already gone. Then, I proceeded to berate my "friends."

"The Talk"

Eventually, everyone gets "The Talk." I thought that I had escaped this rite of passage, but tonight, my mom took care of that. Yes, you read that right. Tonight. Just to clarify, I'm twenty-two (22) years old. 

The conversation went something like this: we started out talking about one of my friends who is a total Assy McAsshat, and progressed on to how Assy, my ex-friend Bitchy, and my actual friend were all drinking at the hockey game last week. My sister saw them and was telling my mom what a horrible friend Assy was and how much everyone hated Bitchy, so that led Mom to suspect that I, too, drink.

So, we talked about how I drink like once a year, maybe, and laughed at how my sister ratted me out without even thinking that might be what she was doing. After that, we talked about how we don't like the sports teams from New York (Yankees, Rangers, Jets, Islanders, Knicks, etc.)

Mom got up to go to bed, and I got up to get ready for bed (yes, we were in my bedroom because yes, I still live with my parents because I'm a poor college kid, but guess what, I'm cool with it because I'm debt free). Suddenly, she slammed my door open and said,

"And while we're having these talks, just in case you sometime decide to have sex, use protection."

Then, she slammed the door closed, leaving me to laugh at how slim a possibility that is, and at how lucky I am that my mom is freaking awesome. Oh, and, I got the Sex Talk. It's been an interesting night.

I'm not Picky... Really...

There are several other people invested in my thus far fruitless search for a romantic partner. For example, I work with two girls who have made it their New Year's Resolution to find me a man. So, I often receive suggestions about this guy or that guy. And more often than not, I look at the guy they're suggesting and say, "Not for me."

This frustrates them to no end, and I've received countless lectures on how the perfect guy does not exist. So, this is a post in defense of myself and my picky behavior.

First off, I realize that having never even been on a date before, in many peoples' opinions, I should accept any offer I'm given gratefully, but I refuse to become the desperate, do-anything-for-a-man girl that goes psycho and boils a rabbit halfway through the movie. So no, I will not accept bottom-feeders, here defined as a) men old enough to be my father, b) men who make less money than I do, c) men who spend all their money on alcohol, cigarettes, illicit drugs, etc. d) any combination of the above, or e) all of the above.

Then there's the problem of where a particular guy might fit into my life. I am a college student working retail full-time. I only intend to be living in Alabama for another two years tops. So, a relationship with someone established and unwilling to relocate would have a shelf-life. That's a problem. And if he was willing to relocate, would he want to relocate when I did, or do the long distance thing? Would I want him to relocate with me, or do I want to enter the adult world on my own two feet? Would he want to get married before relocating? I realize that most of those questions wouldn't come up on a first date, but you can see where it could quickly become an issue in the relationship if he were to try to talk me into staying, or we were racing to get serious before the move. So, there's reason two that I shake my head at a guy: he seems too attached to north Alabama.

 Reason three is simple: I don't find him at all physically appealing. I'm not looking for some guy out of GQ, just someone that I might look at and think, "Yeah, I might like to sleep with that at some point in the future." Also, it's important to admit that I like what I call odd beauty. Something a little different about a guy's looks that makes him unique. And, I have kind of a thing for redheads. Having red hair doesn't make a guy cute, but it does make a cute guy cuter.

The fourth thing is that he seems to be going nowhere. He's happy just drifting along without any dreams or aspirations beyond beating COD for the millionth time. Me, I'm ambitious; I have dreams. If I were in a relationship with someone who wasn't, I know that I would constantly be nagging him about what he was planning to do next, or when he was going to do this or that. He would resent me, I would resent him. It's just my personality type.

No rednecks. One of my friends at work (let's name them Model and Married), Married, keeps telling me I need to find a country guy because I'm a country girl. What she doesn't realize is the being from the country and being redneck are two different things, so when she sees a redneck come in, she says, "What about him?" Now, I'm not against dating someone from the boondocks; I've lived my whole life in the sticks, but the difference is the amount of class. Yes, rednecks can be great guys, but that type is just not for me. i'm more of an indoors kind of girl. (Not that I won't go fishing/hiking/whatever, I just don't want to make a lifestyle of it.) Basically, if Jeff Foxworthy would classify you as a redneck, I'm not interested.

Also, no assholes. I'll be the first one to admit I can be a bitch, but I don't make a habit of it. So, I don't want to date an ass. Rudeness is unacceptable. And someone who is nice to me, but rude to the waitress is a Class A Asshat.

So, if that makes me picky, then I'm picky, but I won't apologize.

Single Problems

There's a hockey game tomorrow night, and my friend* and I have been planning to go together for two weeks now. Longer, really, because we go to pretty much every game together unless one of us has to work. Anyway, I asked him tonight if we had a game plan for tomorrow yet, and he said that he might not be going because he might have a date. Excuse me?

I asked where he might be going on his date (with a guy he's never met before), and he said that he wanted to go to the hockey game. So... what he really meant was, I'm not going with you. And, if he goes and I go, too, then one of us will have to sit somewhere other than our regular seats. WFT?

Believe me, I'm going now, come Hell or high water. And, I'm sitting in my damn seat.

The problem with my righteous indignation? My best friend has to work, and he's my other hockey friend. So, I'm having to press gang my younger sister, who doesn't like hockey, into going. Oh yeah, and I don't have a date. Bollocks!

*In the spirit of full disclosure, he's gay, so I'm not jealous that he's going on a date, I'm freaking pissed that he is ditching me for some random guy that he met online.