CAITLIN’S DEAL BREAKERS: A GUIDE TO WINNING THE HEART OF AN ANXIETY-RIDDEN 22-YEAR-OLD WOMAN WITH NO MONETARY ASSETS (BUT AN ENDLESS SUPPLY OF WITTY AND CHARMING REMARKS):
1. You don’t have a driver’s license. No, it does not make you look apathetic and cool when you are 22 and you still don’t have your license. It makes you look like you still live in your mom’s basement and your mom still drives you to your job at the gas station. I don’t even care if you have a car or not (I’m not one to talk, since i no longer have one, either), but goddamn it, you better have a little laminated card with your ugly mug printed on it.
2. You like tomatoes. I have learned the hard way that I will never be able to date someone who eats tomatoes. Tomatoes are the worst thing to ever grace anyone’s palate. Since much of a relationship is often revolved around food (going out to dinner, cooking, etc.), a similar taste in food is preferred. And I am not the type of person who freaks out if my spinach is touching my couscous. I am, however, the type of person who will freak out if you try to kiss me after biting apple-style into a tomato, or even just ordering them on your sandwich, because you “see nothing wrong with them.” Fuck you and your tomato breath.
3. You would rather go hiking than sit inside and watch a movie. Every. Single. Night. Yeah, yeah, yeah. I love the outdoors and nature as much as anyone possibly can. but some days, you know, I just wanna fucking sit down and chill. I’m a movie geek, I love sunny days but hate getting sun (I prefer to look at it from the window), and I wear cardigans in the summer. I'm not going on a hike with you unless it’s, a) up the road to get ice cream, or b) to Yellow Springs, where I can people-watch among all of the hippies and possibly eat some acid.
4. You have an Australian accent. I had a bad experience with an “Ozzie” once, and since I’ve been watching Flight of the Conchords, my dislike for Australian accents has grown even deeper. The only acceptable sexy accent: Irish. And, okay, Jemaine Clement’s New Zealand twang ain’t so bad, either. I guess I just like the whole monotone, dry humor thing. Being born and bred in the Miidwest has one good thing going for it, I guess.
5. You wear Crocs. So, we’re talking on the phone, and we’re supposed to go out to dinner with my parents. I say, “Hey, wear something nice. Like that blue polo shirt you have, and maybe some nice jeans, nothing fancy.” You agree. and then you show up at my front door wearing the aforementioned jeans and shirt. So far, so good. I then glance toward your feet, and I freeze in sheer terror: a hideous pair of Crocs. You seemed like a normal enough guy, and you’ve always worn tennis shoes up until today. But the minute I say, “Let’s get dinner with my parents” you all of a sudden decide that the lowliest form of footwear in existence is perfectly fine. I realize that this has been a test, and your ruse will not fool me. I take one look at you and close the door in your face (evil spirits have to be invited in, of course) and then I go close all of the blinds. I then draw a bath and sit in the tub with my clothes on, rocking in silence while I mentally weep for the human race. The only acceptable footwear for men are sneakers, and occasionally dress shoes.
6. You like really bad Japanese anime. If this is the case, I will know pretty much right away. I went to art school for four years. I can smell you right away, even before you say something like, “Gotta catch ‘em all!” after trying to grab my boobs.
7. You don’t “get” Radiohead, and/or you think David Bowie is ”gay.” Radiohead is my favorite band of all time, and David Bowie is DAVID FUCKING BOWIE. If you don’t like Radiohead, we can’t even be in the same city.
8. You have bad taste in movies. I am a movie snob. I shall say this here and now. I have seen almost every WORTHWHILE movie ever created (plus a few cinematic disasters here and there). I have discovered that VERY few people on this earth actually have good taste in movies. If we go see a movie and I look over and you are laughing unironically during a preview for a Brendan Frasier movie, I will get up and leave, even if we are about to watch Iron Man 2. Do you hear me? You are over there laughing as though it’s actually FUNNY to see Brendan Frasier getting beat up by animal puppets. This is enough for me to get up and walk away from Robert Downey, Jr. ROBERT FUCKING DOWNEY FUCKING JUNIOR. That’s it. I will calmly stand up and exit the theater, but not before I shove a handful of popcorn down your gaping maw. If we can’t have intelligent, awesome conversations about how violently good Inglourious Basterds is, or we can’t sit down for a good old-fashioned Sam Raimi horror movie night featuring some nice, cold Guinness, Bruce Campbell and the Evil Dead, then get the fuck out of my face and take your Along Came Polly DVD with you.
9. You don’t like to read. I have had many a seemingly fun, interesting conversation with many a seemingly fun, interesting guy. On top of being a movie nerd, I’m an avid reader. I always have been and I always will be. And so, the conversation inevitably turns to books and movies. You profess a taste for Wes Anderson and Stanley Kubrick flicks and you really like The Office. And then I say, “Have you ever read One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest?” You look at me blankly. “You know, the Ken Kesey novel that the film is based off of,” I say. You shake you head. “Really? The book is so much more descriptive. I mean, the movie is awesome and all, mostly because of Jack Nicholson and the woman who plays Nurse Ratched, but there are so many plot elements from the book that I think would have really added to the movie,” I say. And then you say, “Oh. I don’t really like to read that much.” WHAT. THE. FUCK. Are you even human?
10. You don’t practice good oral hygiene. Smelling like you just hosed off a whole keg of beer 24/7 is not, contrary to popular belief, a good way to attract female pheromones. Or even a good way to attract a female conversationalist.
11. You don’t think South Park is funny. You’re such a Jew.
12. You’re super Christian and you make sure that everyone knows it. I’m an aetheist, but I’m all for freedom of religion and all that shit. I think that everyone should have a right to express themselves…but in a QUIET manner. Good for you, you found Jesus after your stint in jail after you “unknowingly” slept with a 15-year-old girl. but you don’t have to ask me to go to church with you every week. It’s like a soccer mom sticking to her diet: NEVER GONNA FUCKING HAPPEN. Although, if you go to one of those churches where everyone writhes around on the floor speaking in tongues, I may go with you, just once. I've always wanted to witness that shit first hand. Anyway, I won’t tell you you’re an idiot for believing in God if you don’t tell me I’m an idiot and I’m going to hell for not believing in God. I haven’t been to church in ten years, I spend my Sunday mornings sleeping in and eating pancakes, and I guarantee you I’m happier than almost anyone who gets up at 7 a.m. to go to church. But I won’t tell you that.
13. You are healthier than me. Good for you, you like to drink protein shakes six times a day and you get up at five a.m. EVERY SINGLE DAY to swim six hundred laps. Excuse me while I go back to bed until noon and then start my Dexter marathon and order a pizza.
14. Which brings me to: You get up early every goddamn day of the week, even when you don’t have to. I’m a deep sleeper and I can sleep through everything. When my ex-boyfriend was working early mornings for a merchandising company, he would quietly get ready for work and then kiss me goodbye. I am not totally averse to getting up early—I will get up early if I have to for work and whatnot. However, I do love sleep. I can sleep like 12 hours straight without a problem (thanks, fibromyalgia!). The only downside is that no matter how much or how little sleep I get, I’m always really fatigued. So if I’m going to sleep in, I’m going to fucking sleep the fuck in. Which means I will not be rising earlier than noon. Any day that I get a chance to sleep in means that my day will not start until noon or later. I relish these days. I love being up at night and in the afternoon. I hate mornings. mornings set my teeth on edge. Mornings—for people like me—are the reason that the coffee bean industry will always be hopping. I'm like a teenage boy. i’m your stereotypical, caffeine and tramadol-addled obsessive compulsive, ready to greet you with a smile each day. But not before 12 p.m., so fuck off.
15. You don’t wear boxers. Wearing tightey whiteys as an adult says, “My mom breastfed me until i was five.”
16. You think that giving me flowers is romantic. f you haven’t gotten it by now, I'm not your typical girl. Flowers actually creep me out. When I was a kid, I was more scared of the fake flowers on a teddy bear that my grandma gave me than I was of our trashy next door neighbors, whose son was a “knight” in the Renaissance Festival every year and practiced out in the yard in his full Medieval regalia. In fact, I thought that was pretty fucking cool. I just really hate flowers. Seeing their little petals cheerfully poking out of the ground every spring just really pisses me off.
17. You expect me to cook and be a good little housewife. If it doesn’t come with microwave instructions, you’re shit out of luck. I’m pretty good at cleaning—fastidious, in fact, due to my obsessive compulsiveness—but the same problem steers me away from the joy of cooking. I’m always afraid I won’t get it right, so I don’t even try. If I’m making dinner, it’s going to be off-brand cereal and toast. Get used to it.
18. You don’t like girls who have tattoos. If that’s the case, then you can just walk right on by. I have four tattoos (two of which are readily visible, on my forearm, and two on my back). Two of them are fairly large. I have a peacock feather on my inner left arm that takes up 3/4 of my arm, as well as the Gaelic word “Scealai” on my inner left wrist. On my right shoulder, I have the quote, “for life’s not a paragraph and death i think is no parenthesis” from the e.e. cummings poem, “Since feeling is first.” And on my back I have a large piece which features a set of Libra scales with a human skull and a human heart in each scale. All of these pieces are personal works of art that mean a lot to me, more than you’ll ever know. No, I did not just drunkenly pick flash pieces off the tattoo shop wall. And I don’t have to explain them to you, unless you politely inquire. However, if you’re just going to sit there and say that girls with tattoos are trashy without being informed about them, then you can kindly tattoo a dick on your forehead. Tattoos can say a lot about a person, and that would say everything for you!
19. You use pet names. If you utter the words, “babe, hon, sweetie, mami, doll” etc., in my vicinity, you will get drop-kicked in the testicles, babycakes.
20. You are shorter than me. I'm 5'8, almost 5'9. If I can’t comfortably rest my head on your shoulder, it’s a no go. I don’t like to admit it, but I like when you can do that sexy tilt my chin up to kiss me thing. I’m almost 5’9, and the height requirement is 6 ft or higher.
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