The Commander has three basic functions that her performs on this website. Well, four, if you count “Mystical, Wizard in ‘Wizard of Oz’-esque Presence” as a function. He comments nearly daily, he woos the ladies en masse, and occasionally suggests topics that I should write about, since he’s too busy wining and dining the women he picks up on my blog to actually write the damn thing himself.
So Friday night he points me towards the most recent Sports Guy’s mailbag, where this question was posed:
Do all men find along the way their test for present and future girlfriends?
“This will be a great blog topic, man!” he said to me. “Go for it, I gots to get to Spago’s before 8 pm, or I’ll be late for my 10 o’clock over on Avenue B. Don't wait up, Pumpkin.”
Thanks, Tim. To be a blogger is to be a bachelor, I suppose. To be a commenter is to see more ass than Mo Vaughn at Flashdancers.
Also, I hate it when he calls me Pumpkin.
OK, so to the topic at hand: do men find a test and/or tests for prospective mating partners? Well, I imagine most do. They range from common-sense (ie, she has a cranium) to mundane (ie, doesn’t regularly bleed from the ears) to the sublime (ie, infinite capacity for forgiveness) to the ridiculous (ie, infinite capacity for paint ball). Many men will only consider a woman as anything more than a one-night stand if certain criteria are met, and while these men may not actively try to gauge these criteria, they do keep a general look out. For instance, a guy might be a huge football fan. There’s no easy way to introduce Daunte Culpepper into conversation, but if Girl X starts talking out of the blue about what a jerk Randy Moss is, this girl has passed the test without even knowing she was in school in the first place.
The easy trap to fall into, of course, is having far too many tests, precluding you from ever meeting anyone unless you can somehow swipe the software from “Weird Science” and create your own version of Kelly LeBrock. (And for the record, the last 20, mutant-biker filled minutes of that movie rank up there in the “They Totally Did Drugs During the Production” Pantheon of films. But that’s another saga.) When you’re single, the world can seem like your oyster. If you’re of an optimistic, or plain old superficial, ilk, you can pick and choose your potential partner like you’re hooking up your dream car on Vehix.com. So, all of a sudden, you’ve got a guy who wants a women, between 25-27, between 123-132 pounds, between 5’6’’-5’8’’, likes football, gourmet cooking, going to strip clubs, is Mom-approved, enjoys to be brought to a motel that features a heart-shaped bed, plays six instruments, considers “keg stands” to be a work out, considers Power Bars to be part of this complete breakfast, and is a yoga/gymnastics/Tantric sex instructor.
These guys then wonder why they’re home alone every Friday night watching Steven Seagal movies on USA.
It goes without saying that such a girl does not exist. However, if you do exist, and want to prove me wrong, drop me an email and I’ll have a chartered flight come pick you up.
Now, ladies, you’re no less guilty of such pickiness. Go check out Craigslist here for examples. I read the ads, because they’re funny as hell, and actually some are pretty interesting. But most of the ladies’ ads fall under the following three templates:
WANTED: SUGAR DADDY
I’m hot. You’re rich. I want you to pay my rent, parade me around, and expect absolutely no physical interaction whatsoever. If you like strippers, and wish they would consistently take your money in public while clothed, write me.
NICE, NORMAL GIRL HERE *Insert Random Emoticon*
I’m so sick of the dating scene. Why can’t I find a nice guy who doesn’t care about looks? Write me. Oh, and emails without pictures will be ignored.
IF YOU DON’T LOOK LIKE COLIN FARELL, DON’T FRICKIN’ BOTHER YOU ASSCLOWN
I don’t know why I can’t get dates. I’m wicked hot, have a great rack, and can get any man to do whatever I want. But I can’t find someone who will treat me nice. If you’re ugly, don’t even think about writing me. I already hate you. If you’re making less than $50K, back the f#ck up too. Pictures and credit referrals along with your email or I will find out where you live and step on your crotch for wasting my time.
OK, so yea, being a little harsh here, but I’m the friggin’ sandpaper of the blogging world. Sue me.
Here’s the trend I’ve noticed. I usually shy away from trends, because I’m not trendy. I still have those free t-shirts the college gave away during the yearly activity fair, cuz hey, free t-shirt. But here’s what I’ve noticed, and I’ll italicize it and make it its own paragraph to highlight this Public Service Announcement:
Girls say they want a nice guy, but actually want a bad guy; guys say they want a bad girl, but really want a nice one.
“Nice” and “bad” are of course relatively, but in a manner of speaking, I really think this is true. Maybe this trend is lessened and/or reversed as people get older, but I can only speak for my generation, the 20-somethings, and years and years of watching dating patterns emerge and trying to decipher them, John Nash-like, and see what I can’t pass onto you, the reading public.
Now, to say we look for a “nice” or “bad” person is of course saying we want someone with predominantly those traits. Unless you’re in an 80’s sitcom, you’re neither one nor the other. Those who want “nice” guys want someone who’s basically a clean-cut dude who tucks in his shirt, doesn’t swear too much, won’t embarrass her at a family wedding, and will do a modicum of activities without being prodded. That being said, most girls who want this type of guy also want someone with a bit of a “dark” edge as well. Someone who can maybe be a touch different when they are alone. Risk taker, maybe a bit of kink, whatever it is that appeals to that side we all (and yes, I said “all”, I will not argue about this) have.
Here’s where it gets weird, though: girls who go after a “bad” guy want the exact type of relationship as above. Doesn’t make sense, but hear me out. They can see in this type of guy the type of guy who can get them excited, whether it be emotionally of physically, so hey, that part’s already covered. Now all that’s left ot do is clean him up and completely change him to your specifications of what you want in a person who’s presentable as your boyfriend. In doing so, you either completely suck his soul out, you force him to be something he’s not and you both get on each other’s nerves, or do you basically throw a costume on a complete jackass. You then wonder why it’s not working out.
Now, guys are no better. No better at all, so don’t be all up in that feminist tip. Guys date very nice girls all the time only to cheat on them with tramp or leave them for said Slutty Sally. Guys also date women who are “naughty” in that “I like to emotionally destroy whoever I’m with way”, and here’s where my personal experience could lend many a helpful anecdote, but I never know who’s reading here, so we’ll let that one slide for today. This type of relationship is best exemplified in “Teen Wolf”, where Michael J. Fox wanted Pamela but should have been with Boof, but he couldn’t date Boof, mostly because she went by the name of Boof. The terrible name aside, everyone but the Fox character knew he and Boof were perfect for each other, but he was too emotionally whipped to see it for himself. (Other movies in the “Boof” genre: “Better Off Dead” and “Some Kind of Wonderful”. All worth checking out. Great dialogue. “He has his testicles all over me." “You look good wearing my future.” Good times. Again, I’m digressing. Blame it on Boof.)
(OK, one more Boof note...this was Susan Ursitti's second movie. Her first? "Zapped!" Not surprisingly, she did basically nothing afterwards. After the one-two punch of "Zapped!" and "Teen Wolf", aka, the "Godfather"/"Godfather II" of the "Movies in the 80's That Featured High School Guys Who Can Use Telekinesis Or Turn Into a WereWolf For Comic Effect" genre. I mean, where else could she go? Ok, this time, I'm really done.)
(Really. I swear.)
(BOOF!)
(Damnit. I slipped up.)
So, really, we’re all looking for that perfect balance. Doesn’t get to the whole “test” issue that is nominally at hand in this article. Well, I don’t like tests. They annoy me. I’ve dated so many types of people that I never thought I would want to date that I’ve given up on the whole idea. I mean, who knew that James Spader and I would make such a hot couple? Exactly. You just never know.
Not to say I don’t have criteria, however. Like, being of legal age. I feel that’s very important. If anything, though, I have a laundry list not so much of what they should be like but more a list of what to avoid. To wit:
- The moment they say, “You know, I think Hitler was onto something,” I’m out of there.
- Ditto if they say, “If you really loved me, you’d let me see other people.”
- If she likes to stay in all the time…because she’s under house arrest. Yea, not so much.
- Her name is Ann Coulter. Check, please.
- She wants a $15,000 engagement ring. Been there, done that.
- Someone who would ever go to something like this, least of all in team formation in a frickin' uniform, is straight out of the running. *shudder*
I guess I would have more tests if there were more things I was truly passionate about. Like, some people have the religion test. I don’t. Jenny and I were years away from marriage even before the breakup, but we had talked about raising any kids Jewish. We talked about it, and it made the most sense. Went a long way to solidifying a lot of her doubts about a long-term future for us. For some people, they wouldn’t do an inter-faith scheme. Some people are willing to convert, others aren’t. Some people would even switch from Democrat to Republican. It’s probably a sign of bigger problems if you dump someone who won’t vote down a party ticket, though.
Even the word “test”, to me, is antithetical to how a developing relationship could work, anyway. If you’re constantly keeping a running tally of pros and cons (“OK, likes sports…but likes the Yankees…likes dogs…but likes them as a side dish…ok, we’re still at zero here…”), then you can’t check out the color of his/her eyes or even notice if you’re having a good time or not. Just plain wrong. The best dates are when you hear “last call” and you can’t believe time has flown so fast. Kinda goes without saying, but no one seems to be saying it, so here I go, here I go, here I go again. Girls, what’s my weakness? Men! (The last part of this paragraph has been brought to you by the song “Shoop”.)
To say you should abandon any standards you yourself hold near and dear is not the point of all this, however. It’s about, ultimately, being open enough to let yourself be surprised by what you will and will not tolerate in another person. “Tolerate” may seem too harsh a word, but really, we spend so much time talking about what we don’t like in other people that it’s fair to say we deny ourselves many good times based on suppositions over what we find initially intolerable in others. Wrong hair color. Bad wardrobe. Likes Cat Stevens. Kills homeless people. Little things that can prejudice us against someone with whom we could have a meaningful relationship.
Tests usually just provide easy excuses to be lazy. To break things off before they can possible get serious, and, by proxy, potentially harmful. Much easier to mock someone’s choice of restaurant and nip it in the bud, even if you had a fairly nice time at dinner anyways. Much easier to call it off before you can get involved. Much easier to think “There’s always someone better.” Or even worse, “They weren’t The One.” Look, folks, only Neo is The One, and even he can’t figure out his relationships. Another italic, stand-only sentence:
There is no such thing as The One.
There. I said it. Now, there are Ones. Oh yes. Many a One to be had. How many? OK, you really want to know? Here’s the answer, but don’t tell anyone I told you this: Twenty-Six. But see, it doth not roll trippingly off the tongue to say, “I’m found my One Twenty-Sixth” so some people got together: magazine editors, screenwriters, musicians, and for some reason a few street mimes gathered together one night in late 1947 and decided to sell the world on “The One”. So, there you have it. Now, I need to go back to Roswell and hop on my spacecraft before the government seeks me out for revealing that little secret.
Here’s why I refuse to believe in The One: I’d never ever stay with anyone if I did. No one I’ve met has been remotely close to any type of perfection that I couldn’t say, “Hell, there MUST be someone who does X better than her.” I’d never stop moving. I’d find a flaw, figure this couldn’t be The One, and move on. I’d be like a guy looking for the World’s Greatest Cheesecake. It exists, alright, in 17,000 different places if you asked 17,000 people. What if I find the best cheesecake in Boston? Does that mean that if I had moved to say Nevada three years ago, I would have been miserable my entire life? Or that I’m single now because I never did move to Reno? I have enough problems in my life. Holding down a job, paying down my student loans, figuring out what the hell happened to the concept of continuity on “Buffy” during the last half of Season Seven….I have a lot of stuff on my mind. I can’t add The One to the list.
What’s the point? Well, I’m gonna say that the issue is complicated, sloppy, and sort of bounces around a lot. Which is convenient, since that’s how this article reads as I’m proofing it. Yes, men have tests. Yes, women do too. Both do them for reasons sane and insane. Tests are a way of life, they are often an evil necessity, and quite often they deny us what could be some pretty fun relationships. But they’ll always be with us, just as we bemoan their existence. Sorta like Smash Mouth, that way.
In the end, if your dating life isn't going the way you want it, or a person's not working out the way you had hoped, and you really just want someone to blame, just blame Boof. I know I do.
Posted by Ryan McGee at August 17, 2003 08:11 PM