Today, I’ve been thinking. Yes, yes, I’m aware. This never goes anywhere good, and y’all are stuck in the bullshit with me. I promise, though, this time I’m not going to let my heart lead me around by my ass, pulling us down into whatever level of fuckery finds me.
On God, y’all. Not this time.
I was thinking about what I told y’all the other day, the “make a list” method, forming an idea of what you want in a partner before you’re wandering around like an asshole, blocking pedestrian traffic and getting cussed out, all to end up with it being completely fruitless, leaving you alone eating Cheetos on the couch naked at 3am.
I know that’s oddly specific, but that’s just what I heard happens. I would never eat Cheetos naked, because that cheese powder is nuclear and you can’t wash that off.
If I were to make a list today of what I require of someone, what would it take realistically for me to even let the thought cross my mind that I might trade my single in for a pairing…what does that list look like?
Allright, let’s run it back then.
He has to think he’s the lucky one.
So many times, I’ve been involved with someone who, most likely, was pushing an 8 out of 10, and they knew it. I can remember telling Huggie Bear many times that he was so far out of my league, it was a completely different sport. Y’all remember Huggie, giving college graduation commencement speeches while I’m telling women how to catch their husbands cheating? Yeah, that Huggie.
Although he’s a fantastic dude and would never admit it, he knows I’m right. I know that if I ever were to do it again, I want it to be because someone looks at me like they think I’m out of their league. Like they think they’re the lucky one. Even if it isn’t close to true, I want to know that he really thinks I’m his winning ticket, I’m his “I can’t believe this is my chic”. I don’t want it if he doesn’t feel that way.
He has to be one of those guys.
Y’all know the ones I mean, he’s building cabins with his bare hands on the weekend. He can disassemble a rifle faster than a Marine sniper, he rebuilt the engine in his ‘66 Nova, he built his granny’s bookshelves.
Look, I can do a lot of things. Really. I’m not a princess by any means, (obviously, I’m The Queen) but that doesn’t mean I want to tear this washing machine apart if it starts spinning halfway through the cycle. I could probably figure it out. Do I want to? No. Hell no.
That’s not my part of the deal, dude. Just like taking the trash out, and y’all say what you want, it’s the dudes job. You’ll never convince me otherwise. And in turn, I don’t expect my dude to be spending his Sunday evening steam mopping the fucking floors. Plus, he wouldn’t do it right anyway, nobody needs to fuck with my floors, just stay out of my way on that one.
Point being, I still believe in a household that runs a certain way, and if he doesn’t see it that way, it’s just going to end up being a problem later on. I hate problems later on. If he thinks I should be slipping my stilettos on to run the trash to the road on Sunday night, I’m just going to let him go on about his business, because I don’t need that kind of guy.
Them fucking dealbreakers, though…
We all have them. For some women, it’s kids. Or more than one baby’s mother. Or a million other things that basically mean there is one thing you can’t let go, you’re going to beat that dead horse until it’s jerky, and then keep beating it some more.
Which, of course, is exactly how you waste a lot of time and a lot of breath. Don’t put yourself through the stupid shit. If he has a dealbreaker situation, bitch, leave his ass where you found him. Don’t try to dust it off of him, don’t try to see if you can’t get it out with a Shout wipe, bitch, no. Stop it.
If he comes preprogrammed with things that will likely ruin your relationship, listen to The Queen, bitch it will not work. Leave it alone. It’s not for you.
He better love some dogs.
Yep. Y’all know the rule. And it isn’t just because Puffin lives here, and if you can’t get along with her, then kick rocks. It’s because men who love dogs are just better people, by nature. I don’t trust a dude that doesn’t love animals. I don’t trust a dude that doesn’t want to roll around on the ground with a puppy.
I also know that if he has a dog, he at least on some level, has his shit together. He has something he is successfully taking care of, so I know he isn’t one of those clowns who can’t boil water for pasta, and has no idea how to handle a simple ass household.
Also, dogs know. They know when you’re not good people. Say what you want, but I have had my ass saved by a dog, y’all read the story about Bo Dog, my running partner. There’s no doubt in my mind I woudn’t be typing this had Bo not been there that day. Dogs just know.
If he doesn’t have a dog his heart belongs to, I’m gonna probably pass on that. There’s just too much that not loving dogs says about you, and I’m listening.
He has to be able to handle the bullshit I dole out.
Look, I’ll be the first to admit, I am a fucking ridiculous broad. I mean, I’m mean and bitchy, the entire world revolves around me, and I know everything. Obviously, it’s why I give the answers to other bitches. That being said, I feel like on the scale of hot to crazy, I’m still coming out well over the recommended ratio.
I don’t have drama, I’m too old for that shit. I’ll damn sure tell you about yourself, though, and I always have some sort of inappropriate Bitchface comment to make. If you’re thin skinned, there’s no way in hell, nope. I can’t be with a dude that isn’t super mellow, just unbothered with the nonsense. You can’t be like me, ready to knuckle up on a Tuesday morning at the craft store. Anyone I get involved with has to be my “water off a duck’s back”, the calming element in my life.
That’s the long and short of it. It doesn’t seem like a lot, but I assure you, it may as well be as long as the Naughty/Nice list. However, I know the list, I heed the list, and I am not afraid to update the list. That’s important.
So, if y’all see me sitting around with a highlighter, giving people the once over, you know what I’m doing. I’m openly judging, I’ll give you a thumbs up if you do well, though.
Mind your list, y’all. You have standards for a reason. Stick to them, because you deserve someone deserving of you.
Hand to Gods, woman. If y'all weren't 2500 miles away and I weren't happily married.. things would get interesting.
Truth told though, it's probably just as well they can't.
A person can't be peaceable with critters, ain't no place in my home for them!