and welcome the Cute Single Boy of the Week
So, I made it. I’m twenty-five. Mom called to rub it in. Thanks, Ma.
I’m celebrating with an all-day meeting at work. whoo-hoo. Tonight, Eric is taking me out to dinner, as it is also our three-year anniversary.
Three years. Lots of laughs. Lots of memories. Lots of stories and secrets shared. Lots of love. It seems like it just started, and it seems like I’ve known him forever. My best friend. (Baby, I know you can do anything. Be brilliant. I love you.)
Birthday week is kicking off in style. A bottle of wine, a pack of Frappuchino and an *NSYNC poster to deface in my office. That boy knows my weaknesses.
Well, it’s time for another moment with Pamie’s
Cute Single Boy of the Week
Hi. My name is Chris. I’m a friend of Pam and Eric’s.
That is to say Eric is my best friend and so, according to the rules of dating, Pamie is now my friend too. I love’em lots, and not just because they let me sleep over, drink their beer and play with their cats. They would do anything for me. There are, however, certain favors that just aren’t appropriate for me to ask, if you catch my drift.
Pamie, sensing the oppressing weight of my singleness and not wishing to participate in some sort of fraternal lovefest, has offered me this opportunity to get the news out that, yes, I am AVAILABLE! Now you ladies out there might be saying to yourself, “But I don’t know this guy, how could I possibly be interested?” But the thing is, you know me. Think back to high school. Remember the guy friend you had that you could call up and talk about your boyfriend problems with? The guy who was your best friend but when your female friends wondered why the two of you didn’t get it on, you replied with something like, “He’s a nice guy but I don’t think of him THAT way.” Or “He’s real sweet and all, but I’m looking for someone who looks more like Christian Slater.” If you’ve seen Pretty in Pink, you know what I’m talkin’ about. That’s me, in a 6’1and *” nutshell.
Now you’re 5-10 years down the road and you look around and wonder where all the good men are; that special someone who will “listen to your problems” and be your best friend. Well guess what — you passed him up a decade ago when you decided to go out with Mr. Hunky McDangerous from the football team or that guy in the cool rock band that did Bryan Adams covers. But, hey, that’s all right, I forgive you. Now that you have come around to your senses let’s take a look at why you should be all excited about MY science, –cause it is so damn tight.
I’ve been told that it is always good to go with what you know and seeing as I am about finished with a Master’s Degree in history, I thought it would be good to approach this like a term paper. You remember from college — a thesis and three supporting arguments? Well here it goes:
Thesis: Chris is a much better find then Mr. Hunky McDangerous
Argument #1 — Chris doesn’t act like Mr. Hunky McDangerous.
I’ll tell what the hell that means. After graduating from college Mr. H.McD. got a nice little office job where he has worked his way up to middle management. On weekends he goes out clubbing and, after a couple drinks and a little smooth-talking, gets your digits. He then takes you out on some nice dates and maybe a relationship blossoms. Everything is fine for about 6 months and than he starts thinking that this just isn’t nearly as exciting as his younger years, you know, wild keg parties and one night stands with passed out sorority chicks. So what does he do? Well, he can’t quit his job, –cause he’s got bills to pay. He can’t go on an spur-of-the-moment all night drinking binge –cause he’s got work in the morning. So he waits for the next business trip to come along and he has a nice little rendezvous with a waitress from the hotel bar. He comes back home fully planning on never telling you what happened. But he begins to feel guilty and because he would rather just not feel guilty than look like a bad guy, within a month he’s out the door and you’re left weeping like a 13 year old girl at a Backstreet Boys concert, wondering what the hell you did wrong to make him leave. That ain’t me, baby. Know what rocks my world? Independent film, discussions about life and a double shot espresso. I don’t cheat and I don’t lie, except if you call me from work and ask if I took out the trash and I said I did but I really didn’t but I will before you get home. I swear.
Argument #2 — Chris is human and knows you are too.
Not looking like you did ten years ago? Are your breasts not quite as firm as they used to be? Put on a few pounds? A little more self-conscious getting into that swimsuit? Hey — me too!! It’s called getting older, sweetheart. I like it. In fact, I find it damn fascinating. I don’t mind a little filling out here and there if you don’t either. So if your current hombre du jour is a little disappointed because you don’t look like you could get cast in V.I.P., tell him to take his adolescentpornoflickmastubatoryfuckfantasy into the bathroom with the Victoria’s secret catalog and leave you to the real man, namely me.
Argument #3 — Life is scary and don’t I know it.
Know what really sucks about being single? It’s not the lack of sex, going to the movies by yourself, or eating Healthy Choice microwave entrees because cooking for one is such as hassle. It’s 11:42pm on a Tuesday night. After you have turned off the TV/stereo/computer, brushed, flossed and got into bed. When it is all quiet and those nasty thoughts start creepy-crawling into your head. You know the ones. “Shit, I’m going to die totally alone and forgotten.”, or “I sure wish there was someone here right now so I can talk about how nervous I am about that meeting/presentation/conference tomorrow.” I don’t care what Mr.H.McD. has told you, guys get just as scared about life as you do. I’ll be more than happy to stroke your hair with your head in my lap and tell you everything is going to be O.K. I just hope you would do the same for me.
Hell, if you haven’t figured it out already I’m not gonna tell you.
Plus I’m disease-free. And I got references. What more could you ask for?
Come on, ladies. What are you waiting for?
My office was vandalized this morning by the birthday bandits, and now there’s glitter all over me. Last night Eric tossed confetti into the air and one of the pieces hit me in the eye. Suddenly, Birthday Week has become dangerous.