I've got a birthday coming up.
This birthday will mean I've been going after, sometimes getting, and every-single-time losing women for nearly two decades. I'm going all the way back to middle school here, when -- after watching "9 1/2 Weeks" too many times -- I excused myself from second-basing Kate B. behind a couch, fetched two ice cubes from the freezer, and proceeded to rub them upon the nipples of my eighth-grade girlfriend.
Goodbye, Kate B.
(Eleven years later, at a high school reunion, I would finally ask her why she was so cool with that admittedly ridiculous, bizarre moment. She had forgotten about it. Things. Got. Awkward.)
In the 20-odd years I've been attempting to find a nice girl and consistently screwing it up, I've come to a lot of conclusions. Not just on dating women, mind you --conclusions about existence!
And I'm going to share them. Right now. Consider this moment, right now, your opportunity to take the red pill or the blue pill. (Hi, "Matrix" reference! Why am I single again?)
You're still here! The red pill it is:
Heavier Girls Have the Best Vaginas
I've rolled around the hay with my fair share of bigger gals. But even just the girls with meat on their bones, the curvy ones -- they, too, have really amazing vaginas. It's like their bodies, rich of nutrient and excess fat, are actually happy. I can't even fathom the science behind it, frankly, but I know that every curvy babe I've gotten naked with has had great, wondrous throbbing, velvet fields that smell of lilac. Fat girls, your vaginas are g*ddamn miracles.
Now, am I suggesting that the opposite
of this is also true -- that skinny girls have lesser vaginas? I've said it before and I'll say it again -- women are beautiful, big or small or naturally thin. But some women simply don't eat enough food, and their vaginas -- like their bone density and iron requirement -- are left wanting.
Drinking Red Wine on Dates Is the Best
There's just something about red wine. Maybe it's the image of a 1920s Parisian cafe, or the fact that it looks a little like blood, but red wine can turn any date into living literature. Unlike hard alcohol, which is like drinking liquid mistakes, or beer, red wine engenders the best conversations about nothing.
Because that's what most dates ultimately are -- seemingly unending conversations about nothing. However, when you get drunk on red wine, every conversation gains the import of those whispered during the Last Supper. The story about a miscast reply-all that resulted in an awkward apology is suddenly f*cking incredible.
Olive Tapenade Is a F**king Abomination
Get this sh** out of my face.
You Can Tell a Lot About Somebody Sexually by the Way They Order at Subway.
That girl who micromanages the placement of the banana peppers on her turkey sub and does the whole "No, not that tomato, could you use some of the redder ones? Well, THAT'S too much lettuce" and hems and haws about whether or not to get the combo because she can't decide if she really wants Fritos or not is probably going to give you the worst missionary bone of your life. Oh, and anybody who orders a 6-inch seafood-salad? Begging for anal. Don't shoot the messenger here!
Women Who Begin Emails "Hey, You" Are Crazy
Women who write cute emails are batsh** insane. This goes double for those who use elaborate fonts, refer to you as "Mister" and use numbers instead of letters, like Prince. It may seem adorable or affectionate, but don't be fooled. The women who use emoticons in text messages are the same ones who will eventually leave you angry, swear-filled messages. In blood. On your bathroom mirror.
Midwestern Girls Are the Europeans of America
I spent some years in the Midwest, and I found the women to be sexually open, compassionate, funny and carefree. Where else will you find a woman who eats a steak, drinks nine beers, smokes and rides you until you're a shaking puddle?
Midwestern women are like Europeans in that they have they are unashamed about enjoying the so called "vices" of life. They drink and smoke and f**k and don't apologize to anyone about it. They're less status-hungry than your East Coast striver and less full of sh** than a West Coast vegan yoga monster. And I say this loving West Coast women and living on the East Coast and being at all times in love with some beauty I saw on the subway.
They send out too many Census letters
I get it. You want me to fill out this form. Jesus Christ, relax already.
Trail Mix Is Candy.
Stop lying to yourself.
People Who Do Yoga Are All a Little Gay
I don't mean "gay" in the homespun pejorative way. I mean that all women who are into raising their asses in the air with other women and being constantly "adjusted" by other women in a room full of sweaty other women were probably college lesbians or were made embarrassingly wet at a casual group party where "Mulholland Drive" was on. Likewise, if a guy does yoga he is at least slightly willing to try another man like a grocery-store sample. You know, in a "Hmm, I've never really liked feta, but I'll try this" kind of way.
Nobody likes giving them or getting them. Handjobs are the black jellybean, scented-candle-Christmas-present, gift-certificate-to-Talbott's of sex.
If Blake Is Your First or Last Name, You Are Crazy
People who use the term "making love" should never be made love to. If awkwardly divesting myself of a few ounces of sperm between your knees onto your sheets which I now feel bad about making you wash is "love," I hope I remain forever unloved.
All Women Can Do That Grippy Thing With Their Vaginas, Apparently
This isn't a theory, just something I recently found out, which floored me. I can't believe you've been keeping Kegels a secret for all this time, ladies! Ark of the Covenant, my ass -- this is the f**king Holy Grail!
I Am Going to Get Hate Mail
Just a fact of life.
[Redacted] Guy is the resident Single Guy writer for Lemondrop. He was almost made an honorary member of the Lakota tribe, but he didn't like the name Weeps With an Erection. He lives in New York.
You can send him hate mail and love letters here, and follow him on Twitter.