I watched TLC's show 'Virgin Diaries' last night, and I just want to say first, that I like you, Skippy. I really do. And your mom is so cute that I want to fold her up like a travel brush and put her in my purse pocket. That being said, I think that maybe you are just a wee bit off course in trying to land a Utah county Mormon lady. As a Utah county girl who is practically the same age as you (go AF '94!) and knows the travails of local mormon-flavored dating, I feel like I know what I am talking about. I want to help you. Take my help, Skippy. Take it.
Let's start off with the things I really like about you.
- Your glasses. They are cool.
- Your t-shirt approach to life. I like that you project your personality through the medium of t-shirts. It's like, 'hey! Here I am! Take me or leave me! Oh, you're leaving me? WHY? Is it the t-shirt?!' (Also, I really need to score a good deal on some tees myself. Who's your shirt guy. Message me!)
- Your friends. They genuinely like you and wish you well. Good job scoring good friends. That says a lot about you.
- Your 'hair dryer to dry off the sweat' technique. I really like that. I might use that myself sometime. Being sweaty is seriously yuck. I think your solution is ingenious.
- Your sad sad vulnerable honesty. That is a very priceless and remarkable quality in a man. It reminds me of my favorite set of magnets:
|MEN CRYING magnets|
Let's move on to the things that are more difficult to hear. But you are ready for change? Right, Skippy? Right. Here goes.
- Never ever ever EVER let someone film you while doing the 'shake weight.' EVER.
- The screw-top mason jar full of your belly-button lint. I am indeed impressed with the dedication to your, ahem, collection. But, at some point you need to realize that you can either hold the jar of body lint or boobies. But not both at the same time. It will never happen. I say, take that jar and bury it in the woods somewhere, and then maybe, in like fifty years, when you are surrounded by grandkids, you can give them a shovel and a treasure map and scare the crap out of them.
- What is with the dating of the super young size 4 hotties who work at Buckle in the Orem mall? Geeze, Skippy. It is insulting. I am your age. Go and look at a picture of me. This is more the type of lady that you should be aiming for. I, alas, am unavailable, so sadly I cannot go on a date with you and get the 'Skippy is my friend' t-shirt (which I assure you, grieves me to no end). But I'm not a size 4. And I look just this side of 'used up.' But you get what I'm saying. Do not date these young nubile girls. It makes you look predatory and pervy. Go out and find a real woman.
- Never serenade or let someone else serenade your date. That scene of that guy playing the guitar and singing at you and your date in your mom's basement? Do I need to say it, Skippy? AWKWARD. The worst dates I ever went on involved serenading of some sort. It is beyond uncomfortable on the receiving end. And I swear if I ever hear about you singing a rock ballad cover of a hymn on a date, I will cut you, Skippy. Cut you.
- Your mom. There. I said it. You are way way WAY too close to your mom. You live in her basement. She goes on dates with you?! NO SKIPPY NOOOOOOO NOOOOOOOOO NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
If you want to talk about any of this with me in person, Skippy, I would love that! I want to buy you a burger at the Purple Turtle or a sandwich at Kneaders. Heck, I'll even throw in one of those chocolate-covered strawberries in a to-go box for your mom. Let's lunch, Skippy. I'll make you an embroidery of anything you want.
The Cotton Floozy