The last time I blogged about my future ex-husband, I was still not entirely free from my first ex-husband. But now that I am 9 months legally divorced and sober from marital strife, I’ve decided it is nothing short of necessary to write another personal ad to the world revealing my deepest innermost desires for love, happiness, and someone to clean up after me when I miss the toilet bowl.
Moments like this remind me of why I am single.
To further narrow the plethora of romantic options that bombard me on a daily basis (ha!) I am going to follow up on the original six characteristics of my future ex-husband. Let’s do this.
My future ex-husband will undoubtedly wear cologne. But not just any cologne. Grade A douchebag cologne. Cologne sold at Hollister, Express, and Rite Aid discount bins. Cologne that conveys an overwhelming attraction to Natural Light and girls with butterfly tramp stamps.
I wish this wasn’t true. But I can’t deny the fact, that every time a guy with pierced ears and a backwards Yankees baseball cap passes me on the street and I get a whiff of the sweet scent of bottled stupidity he bathed in earlier that morning, I shudder with physical excitement.
2. Plays a
musical instrument guitar
I’d like to say I am open-minded to whatever kind of instrument he plays, but I’m really not. I’m not going to accept some mediocre Billy Joel-esque piano rendition of “Blowin in the Wind” when he is fulfilling his hourly requirement of serenading to me. It’s either guitar or one of the pre-approved string instruments I wet dream about.
*I will also accept a man with harmonica playing skills for reasons that have nothing to do with music.
3. A Fan of NATURAL blondes
There is a rumor circulating through the public restrooms of America that men prefer to call blondes for a good time, than women of any other hair color. However in my experience, almost every man I have ever made acquaintance with has openly told me he prefers brunettes. Even my aforementioned ex-husband mentioned in our pre-marital counseling that his only qualms with my looks involve my Nazi hair color. He wasn’t even Jewish!
So, enough of that b***shit. If my future ex-husband is going to love my hair. He is going to worship it with passion formerly reserved for all of the hobbies I force him to give up.
4. Says no to trendy word choices
“My mancave is like, so random. But it’s soooooo awkward when my bros stop by. EPIC FAIL.”
My future ex-husband will never say this sentence. Or the word “chillax.”
iHate iPhones and iHate anyone who disagrees on the matter. The only benefit of owning an iPhone is that it gives you some way to entertain yourself while your iPhone lacking peers mock your inability to participate in a conversation without Googling every topic mentioned.
My future ex husband will not own an iPhone and will instead have the ability to communicate like a real live boy, spending his youth doing something
more productive than playing “Draw Something”. Like watching “Rupal’s Drag Race.”
6. Intellectual Capabilities that Far Exceed Mine
This one will be difficult as it is has been a good 6 months since I’ve met a man who could spell the word calendar without spellcheck. Nevertheless I have faith that my future ex-husband will be such a rare form of genius, he will feel the overwhelming need to remind me of my intellectual failures on a daily basis, from my inability to recite multiples of ten to ignorance of economic policy. After all,if I’m not constantly made to feel inadequate, it’s not a real relationship.
This is good. The last time I wrote a blog like this, I had a difficult time imagining divorcing the man I described. But this time I’m looking forward to freshening up on Pennsylvania divorce laws.
I hope you enjoyed your venture into my neurosis and always remember: “A woman with no standards, can never get disappointed.”
The girl who wishes she read that in a Chinese fortune cookie, instead of having to claim it as her own
Forty-two days ago I wrote a blog entry about being at the cusp of a new and healthy relationship.. It was basically my opportunity to tell the world, “Yes, I am capable of dating someone who does not shit the bed OR have stories about the time they underwent 72 hours of psychiatric evaluation.” It was like a breath of fresh air after two years in a closet with Carrot Top. I have a feeling he smells bad. I have no factual evidence to back this up.
Well, needless to say, that relationship dropped dead about a month ago and I haven’t gotten around to blogging about it. Not necessarily out of depression because it was a mutual decision, but because it seems like a weird thing to blog about. You know, like talking about my huge boobs or how I pee when I sneeze. Oh, wait…
We haven’t spoken at all since I ended it via text message (I should be shot). The thing is, Gerard (pseudonym) was a grand chap. We had a lot of fun together but unfortunately too little in common and too far of a distance to sustain. I think and hope we both agree on this.
So now I’ve been single for about a month. Unfortunately within that month my market value has depreciated. Though my body has begrudgingly surrendered five pounds to my slightly healthier eating habits, my overall body-bettering efforts have been lost.
I got a bug bite on my right boob.
At least I think it was a bug bite.
It was red, swollen, and looked like it may have been filled with pre-historic DNA. If that’s not a bug bite, I don’t know what is.
So naturally I assaulted it. I started to pinch it and squeeze it and treat it like a third nipple. But then it started bleeding so I put alcohol on it (terrible idea). Then it turned a weird white color. Then a few days later it was all red with a tiny scab on it. Now it looks like my gingerbread man mosquito bite scar from last summer which is only cute when it is not on my right boob.
So basically I am single with a mangled breast which isn’t even a secret anymore because I’m posting it on my blog which happens to have an international audience, with highly judgmental feelings about breasts. And as an added bonus, I am apparently a bitch, as this conversation just went down on Facebook:
So who wants to be my friend???? Let me know so I can start devaluing your existence ASAP.
The girl who has spent her morning singing a country rendition of “Crazy Bitch” by Buckcherry