I Don’t Want to Be That Asshole In His Mid-30s Who Dates Girls Who Were Born On the Year That Kurt Cobain Died

July 12, 2010

My friend Papu and I were talking about relationships last week and she asked me why I seemed like in a rush to get into one. It’s not that I’m in a rush, I’m just starting to feel that pressure: the pressure of not wanting to be that asshole in his mid-30s who still lives with his parents and dates a girl who was born on the year that Kurt Cobain died (that’s a depressing decade-long difference).

 

Sure, I’m only 26, but I guess I’m just afraid of seeing myself in that position. But then again, I definitely don’t want to just close my eyes and settle. So I boldly declared to my friend my current three-step plan of 1. Car – 2. Home – 3. Wife.

 

I’ve nailed Step One using my life savings (and I still intend on upgrading to a brand new automobile someday), so now I’m off to Step Two. I don’t care if I do end up with a girlfriend pretty soon; I’m not marrying her until I find us a home. I’ve always wanted a house in the quiet suburbs, but we’ll see if the city life in a condo would be more befitting.

 

And then there’s Step Three. Of course, there’s going to have to be a Step 1.1 or a Step 2.1 where I get myself a girlfriend first, and this is where I’m going to be a bit more particular. It doesn’t mean that the lady has to be everything that I’ll mention below, it’s just not going to be a one-or-the-other type of deal unlike Steps One and Two.

 

So here goes. I want:

 

-a girl who laughs at my dumb jokes when no one else does.

-a girl who doesn’t smoke, because I need her to make me quit.

-a girl who cooks, and if not, who at least makes a mean sandwich.

-a girl who never asks me if she’s fat, because she consciously, but not obsessively watches over her figure. I mean, I still want a girl that I can go to Shakey’s with.

-a girl who is street-smart and can commute to my place when I’m sick and bring me oranges, donuts, and quesadillas.

-a girl who sleeps longer than I do, so I’ll always have time to get her breakfast in bed and videotape her while she’s snoring and show her the video when she wakes up and laugh at her until she cries.

-a girl who has porcelain skin.

-a girl who rocks a miniskirt or short shorts and whose gorgeous gams would go on for days. I’ve always found myself lucky in this department.

-a girl with only one boyish quality (hopefully not in the crotchal department, i.e. a tiny, concealed penis), but perhaps a girl who doesn’t roll her eyes when I mention Chris Jericho, or who watches the occasional Formula One.

-a girl who doesn’t care that I drive a beat-up ’91 Corona.

-a girl who is not that into music, and wouldn’t mind listening to the crap that I play in my car.

-a girl who is into movies, who wouldn’t mind watching the crap that I enjoy, and who would drag me into seeing stupid, girly movies from time to time.

-a girl who doesn’t know much about technology as I do, so I can impress her when I tinker with her computer.

-a girl who will never ever find out where I keep my porn.

-a girl who thinks that motels and strip clubs are disgusting.

-a girl who gets along well with my family. I’ve always found myself lucky in this department, too.

-a girl who knows a lot about the stuff that I never would bother handling myself, like credit and banking and travel planning and things we have to affix our signatures to.

-a girl who is the initiator maybe around 2 out of 5 times we do the nasty.

-a girl who keeps a few secrets, but who never lies to me. Hopefully, those secrets aren’t of the “I’m two-timing you” or the “I killed a man once” or the “I drink my own urine” kinds.