My 'D' Game and A Couple Unwanted Hairs
I truly think that only people in committed relationships should be allowed to get zits. It's not easy out here in the single world. Because we're competing against what seems like a zillion other singles for the one or two good ones left, we must maintain a state of constant vigilance. It requires diligence and attention to detail. The moment you let down for even the briefest instant, you'll finally meet Ms. Right. Of course, she'll take one look at you and roll her eyes in disgust. And that's a best case scenario.
The lucky folks in committed situations can let themselves go. They've already found The One and no longer need to compete. Simply put, they're off the market and as such have it easy. They can get a zit on a Friday afternoon and not panic. They can go to the gym or HEB looking like they just got done washing the car. And that's if they still go to the gym. Committed people are allowed to get fat. They can eat whatever they want and skip the gym. I used to say people in relationships gain weight because they're happy. Bullshit. Upon closer inspection, I discovered that it's not happiness; they just don't give a fuck anymore. Why should they? They've won. Besides, after so many years of meticulous personal scrutiny, they're probably damn tired. I know I wouldn't bother either.
Surely, the grass is always greener. Committed people get bored. I mean once you settle on one person, you just gotta like it or like it. Boredom and apathy are bound to set in sooner or later. Being single is by far more exciting. There's the potential, the blind curve. Life is a mystery. Of course, because we never know when it's going to happen, we must be ready every moment of every day. This means that our personal hygiene must be impeccable at all times. There's no 'I forgot to shower' or 'Oops, I should have worn deodorant today'. When the moment comes, when SHE is right there, we've got to have our 'A' Game.
I've determined that this is why I'm still single. My 'A' Game is a bit lacking. In comparison, of course, but it's the comparison that matters. I do work out regularly and try to keep my weight within decent limits, but that's about all I do right. I can barely remember the last time I ironed. I'm sure it was designed to impress someone, but that is by far an exception. My clothes are decisively wash-and-wear, even if they weren't designed to be so. I rationalize that wrinkles give me a casual (read: just washed the car) look that might be endearing to some. I also tend to put off shaving my legs until the last possible moment. No, I've never actually braided my leg hairs, but they have been known to blow in the wind. As I think about it, this is probably why I tend to date more in the winter. And then there's the one hair on my chin that the light in my bathroom apparently renders invisible when I pluck the rest of them. Sadly when seen in the light of day, it can make even Mr. Magoo recoil in horror. Ugh. Let's not even mention my near constant case of bed head, my chewed up cuticles, or the zits that magically appear on Friday afternoon and disappear late Sunday evening.
So do I do have anything going for me? Besides a moderate amount of fitness? Eh, they say I usually smell pretty good. I think that's called a 'D' game in the literature. Why don't I bring a better game? In many ways, I'm a conscientious objector; I simply don't care. I don't envy people in committed relationships and I never wish I had what they have. Sure, it might be kind of nice to meet Ms. Right. In theory. And really, eventually she'd take off the rose colored glasses and see behind the smoke and mirrors. If I get her used to my unshaven legs from the get-go, there won't be any unwelcome surprises later.
Ok, now I'm rationalizing. Maybe I should go iron something to wear to church tomorrow. You never know, Ms. Right could be there waiting for me. Just to be safe, I should probably take the tweezers with me. Knowing me, I'll check my look in the rear view mirror one last time and see something the yeti would be proud of. Yeah, it's a good thing I like being single.
The lucky folks in committed situations can let themselves go. They've already found The One and no longer need to compete. Simply put, they're off the market and as such have it easy. They can get a zit on a Friday afternoon and not panic. They can go to the gym or HEB looking like they just got done washing the car. And that's if they still go to the gym. Committed people are allowed to get fat. They can eat whatever they want and skip the gym. I used to say people in relationships gain weight because they're happy. Bullshit. Upon closer inspection, I discovered that it's not happiness; they just don't give a fuck anymore. Why should they? They've won. Besides, after so many years of meticulous personal scrutiny, they're probably damn tired. I know I wouldn't bother either.
Surely, the grass is always greener. Committed people get bored. I mean once you settle on one person, you just gotta like it or like it. Boredom and apathy are bound to set in sooner or later. Being single is by far more exciting. There's the potential, the blind curve. Life is a mystery. Of course, because we never know when it's going to happen, we must be ready every moment of every day. This means that our personal hygiene must be impeccable at all times. There's no 'I forgot to shower' or 'Oops, I should have worn deodorant today'. When the moment comes, when SHE is right there, we've got to have our 'A' Game.
I've determined that this is why I'm still single. My 'A' Game is a bit lacking. In comparison, of course, but it's the comparison that matters. I do work out regularly and try to keep my weight within decent limits, but that's about all I do right. I can barely remember the last time I ironed. I'm sure it was designed to impress someone, but that is by far an exception. My clothes are decisively wash-and-wear, even if they weren't designed to be so. I rationalize that wrinkles give me a casual (read: just washed the car) look that might be endearing to some. I also tend to put off shaving my legs until the last possible moment. No, I've never actually braided my leg hairs, but they have been known to blow in the wind. As I think about it, this is probably why I tend to date more in the winter. And then there's the one hair on my chin that the light in my bathroom apparently renders invisible when I pluck the rest of them. Sadly when seen in the light of day, it can make even Mr. Magoo recoil in horror. Ugh. Let's not even mention my near constant case of bed head, my chewed up cuticles, or the zits that magically appear on Friday afternoon and disappear late Sunday evening.
So do I do have anything going for me? Besides a moderate amount of fitness? Eh, they say I usually smell pretty good. I think that's called a 'D' game in the literature. Why don't I bring a better game? In many ways, I'm a conscientious objector; I simply don't care. I don't envy people in committed relationships and I never wish I had what they have. Sure, it might be kind of nice to meet Ms. Right. In theory. And really, eventually she'd take off the rose colored glasses and see behind the smoke and mirrors. If I get her used to my unshaven legs from the get-go, there won't be any unwelcome surprises later.
Ok, now I'm rationalizing. Maybe I should go iron something to wear to church tomorrow. You never know, Ms. Right could be there waiting for me. Just to be safe, I should probably take the tweezers with me. Knowing me, I'll check my look in the rear view mirror one last time and see something the yeti would be proud of. Yeah, it's a good thing I like being single.
Comments
Post a Comment