Pussies. From their claws and their fangs to their mysterious prowl, I hate cats. Who knew this fear would follow me to college?
In the beginning of my freshman year, I dated a macho man with a ‘closet grandma disorder.’ He and his three cats welcomed me to his territory. Upon entering his apartment for the first time and stiffening like a board as cats purred around my legs like sharks circling a victim, I contemplated dealing with the felines to continue dating Catman. After about two seconds of torture, I came up with a solution: next.
Call me shallow, but I do not withstand certain qualities and behaviors. I am not saying that I expect a stepford companion, however there are intolerable pet peeves that drive me crazy.
- The technique to eating spaghetti and meatballs. Men who cut their spaghetti rather than twirling their spoon are criminal. Even the dog from, “The Lady and the Tramp,” understands this phenomenon.
- Pinky Rings and Ponytails. Pinky rings are completely unnecessary and were obviously bought in a 25 cent machine. Do not trust a man with a pinky ring. Pony tails are for sock-hops and horses.
- The goo-goo ga-ga of a baby voice. Unless his lungs are filled with helium, there is no excuse.
- If he wears a smaller pants size than me. I do not want to know that I can kick his butt. Find a nice spot somewhere between Peewee Herman and Arnold Schwarzenegger.
- The blue ribbon champion. A guy who lists his every achievement and trophy won only leaves me to assume one thing: small penis.
- Driving a yellow car. Normally at this age we are lucky to get a box on wheels, however a yellow car screams obnoxious. Taxi driver, what’s my fare?
- One’s appreciation of the most delicious and mesmerizing spice: garlic. If he doesn’t like garlic, he will never be able to share a meal with me. I would starve.
- Leg shakers and pen chewers. I am easily distracted by someone bobbing their leg up and down and lose track of the conversation. Nervous habit verses where that pen has been before is an unsanitary balance. Your mouth, not mine.
- Kindergarten etiquette. A bow and a pinky up is unnecessary, however the simplicity of opening doors and using a napkin rather than a sleeve does not hurt.
- High maintenance. Please do not take longer than me to get ready.
Nancy’s nit picks:
- Due to a traumatic sixth grade experience of slow dancing with a boy in need of stilts, height is of crucial importance. He must be tall to go on this ride.
- If he pulls the, “I am really smart, but I just do not try,” line, than he may please remove himself from my presence. Security?
- Youtube Kelly would agree with me that his shoes matter. If I look down and see the white slip on’s that my grandmother does her water-walking in than he might as well stop trying. The Adidas with the three white stripes down the side do not fly either.
- In good fun, I expect to be matched after I dish him out. Curling up into the fetal position after a harmless joke simply declares him the weakest link, goodbye.
- Trying too hard to impress me and listing your stats like a pro athlete will only convince me that I will most likely find you taking my order in a Burger King. And no, thank you, I do not want fries with that.