Tuesday, April 15, 2008

The Boyfriend

Having a boyfriend is so much easier than dating. It makes problem solving exponentially simpler. For example
Q: What am I going to do this weekend?
A: Hang out with the boyfriend.

Q: Who am I going to have sex with?
A: The boyfriend.

Q: Who is going to take me out to dinner?
A: The boyfriend.

Q: Who is going to tell me that they like me just the way I am even if my fat is rolling over the top of my jeans?
A: The boyfriend.

Q: Who is going to help me haul this huge, heavy piece of furniture that i just happened to find on the street that is so nice that it doesn't even matter that i have zero free sqare feet in my place but i have to have it because it's FREEEEEE?
A: The boyfriend (and if you're lucky, one of his friends, leaving you free to supervise).

Q: Who is going to empty the mouse trap with the dead, mangled mouse in it?
A: They boyfriend.

And on and on like that.

Now, when you happen to find yourself in the extremely liberating position of SINGLENESS, the answers to all of those questions in 98% percent of cases become much less enticing. This, of course, is after that stage where you lie to yourself about all of the great things about being single. For instance

Q: What am I going to do this weekend?
A: Lay around in my sweatpants eating Ben and Jerry's and drinking wine because i was dating someone for so long that i no longer have any friends to hang out with.

Q: Who am I going to have sex with?
A: No one. My vibrator. That guy i used to sleep with along time ago, shit, except i lost his number. In that order.

Q: Who is going to take me out to dinner?
A: No one. Yourself. In that order. Which is really the same thing.

Q: Who is going to tell me that they like me just the way I am even if my fat is rolling over the top of my jeans?
A: Maybe the homeless guy on the corner asking for change. Maybe. But probably only if you give him some change.

Q: Who is going to empty the mouse trap with the dead, mangled mouse in it?
A: Oh, God. Oh god. Maybe the roommate will do it. No, no, she won't, she definitely won't. Oh God, I think I'm going to vomit. I cannot believe there are absolutely no men in my life who will do this for me. Oh god. I don't even want to touch it. Oh God.

And on and on like that.

3 comments:

Sideshow said...

Let it be known that I love you even if you find yourself having a "muffin top" situation with the pants. And for the record...I empty all the mouse traps at our place. I get a sick kick out of it. Happy to lend you my services. Love ya!

Cast the First Stone -- said...

i like you just the way you are, jacqui!!! and i'd take you out for dinner except it would cost a lot to fly out to nyc for 1 nite.

Lizzie said...

Awww, you guys are the BEST! And though I did exaggerate a teeeny bit to get a point across, you reminded me just how amazing, loyal, and steadfast of friends I have. I love you guys! (Tiny secret: i'm actually pretty excited to be single again.)

And the next time I am in a muffin-top or dead-mouse situation, I AM going to call you, girl. Those are two very bad places to be.