Texts From Last Night...

Okay, so it was actually only this afternoon. I received the following text (which came across as 11 texts) from a disgruntled, fed-up, single but beautiful girlfriend of 26:

I need you to tell me that I am not going to die a dog lady...and that one day, a wonderful man will come along who doesn't bug the shit out of me, isn't jealous or insecure, doesn't overuse the phrase "check it out," has a real career, doesn't have to regurgitate movie lines just to have something to say, can go out without getting obliterated, wouldn't even dream of going tanning, doesn't comment on how much everything costs (especially when he takes me out), will pick the f*cking restaurant once in awhile, because if you don't we are going to Mahogany, doesn't feel the need to flex his arm if I brush up against it, doesn't wear size schmedium shirts that he constantly has to tug at the sleeves on, understands that "babe" is not to be used until a minimum 6 months of steady dating and maybe not even then or EVER, understands that my house is not an all-you-can-eat diner, knows the brand of his shirt need not be emblazoned across his chest in 4 inch letters, will not put his GD shoes on my furniture, knows that half-dead roses are lame, especially when I made it easy and said I like TULIPS (but wait, they don't sell those at Homeland), realizes that yes, my dog is cuter than your leg-humping laborador, and knows that the beer I buy is expensive, so don't drink it all every time you come over and not offer to replace it. While we're at it, jackass, who the hell taught you grammar? "Your" is not the same thing as "you're!" No one cares that your favorite movie is Dumb and Dumber--in fact, keep that to yourself when you're around my friends. It wouldn't kill you to make plans in advance, and it would be nice to get picked up and not always have to drive. Oh, and hey, guess what? BICEP is not the only muscle group, so my calves shouldn't be bigger than yours. Why the hell are you still sleeping on a futon and having your mother do your laundry? Sorry, that got a little more direct there at the end, but it felt great...I think I need to quit dating. The water is getting stale. Maybe it's that green algae.

Oh, honey...I may be older, but that doesn't mean I'm wiser...nevertheless, I offered the following:

You will NOT die alone. You will not be a crazy dog lady. That man exists, I just don't know where to tell you to find him...but it probably isn't at a bar. He likely needs to be at LEAST your age, or close to it. He might need to have learned a few things the hard way. You don't need to swear off men entirely, just those that are underemployed, undereducated, those with roommates--especially if the roommates are his parents--and those who get drunk more than once a week. He has to be at least as witty as me, and text with punctuation and without excessively abbreviating. Hang in there. I love you and would snap you up myself if I had the proper anatomy.

Good luck to you, K. I'll keep my eyes peeled...