My Life As A Cereal Dater

It’s always nice to hear people bitch about their relationship status.  Those who are single, for the most part, always wish that they could find “The One”.  Like “The One” is supposed to be a clone to Keanu Reeve’s character, “Neo”, in “The Matrix”. (Wouldn’t that be an interesting first date?  Although, I much prefer his rock-hard body in “Speed”) What makes us say these crazy things?

Hi, my name is Simirah, and I’m a Cereal Dater. (I’ll explain the “Cereal” part in another blog, so just laugh now, and be educated later.) At 37, and never married, I thought that I would finally meet men that are grown up.  Really.  Seriously.  No, I mean it.  I’m on more dating websites than I care to admit, and my profiles continue to get wittier with each passing one.  Hell, one of my “ex’s”, if you can call him that, even sent me an invitation to “Bootycall.com”.  That’s right!  A website dedicated to nothing but one night stands.  How fu*king charming.  No, I didn’t join, but I have to admit that it was tempting. (NOT)  So…the point of this blog…I wake up in the morning, and say to myself, “Self. Hmmmmmm. There has got to be a better way.”  I’m trying really hard to believe it, too.  I don’t think there is an easier way to date.  Two of my dearest friends found love on Match.com. (No, I don’t get any kickbacks from them.)  I’m sticking with it, and do believe that there are good men out there. (Echo, echo, echo, echo) In the meantime, you get to read my funny dating events, classifications of men, perhaps some good advice on the do’s and don’ts of dating life, as well as recognizing your “MDE’s”(Mutating Dating Errors).  No matter your age, it’s a bitch.  Hang in there folks because we’re not getting any younger, and we still have to pay our taxes. (Dammit)

 

**Disclaimer: Simirah is not a psychologist, psychiatrist, comedian, actress, dentist, lawyer, doctor, or street light repairwoman.  I’m just a single gal.**

"Cereal" Explained

One day I woke up and said to myself, “Self…hmmmmm….If I had to classify the types of men that I date, what would I pit them against?”  I’m sure that many of you are just as perplexed as I am about cereal. (It’s ok if you want to say, “WTF is she talking about?” at this point.)  Seriously.  Walk down any isle of an HEB or even Costco, and you’ll find a myriad of cereals.  All of them promise, or not, some kind of nutritional value.  How do you decide which one to pick?  Is it the packaging?  Is it the promise of 100% Whole Grains?(translation: pooping more than once a day)  Is it the cute cartoon characters?  What makes you pick out your morning jumpstart item?  So, as I began my search for a grown up man, I began to classify them.  My search became as important as my choice for a proper cereal.  I need a healthy cereal, so why not apply that to my future Mr. Simirah?  Some of the first men I “dated” (oh yes, I use that term very loosely) offered a world that could only be described as something that came from the best writers at Lucas Films.   The majority, however, are nothing more than “grits”.  I don’t have a ton of them, but here are my key classifications….

 

Total:  Men who believe they offer 100% “nutrition”.  They want to feed you.  They want to clothe you.  They want to fuck you (over).  These are the men that offer 100% bullshit.  Men like this know no other way to communicate, and are often viewed as players/playboys/rico-suave/papi chulo’s, etc, etc, etc.  These are generally the type of men that begin writing love letters, via text message of course, within the first few days of meeting.  It’s soooo sweet that it not only gives me a toothache…It gives me a root canal!  NEXT!

 

Fruit Loops:  Not that I really need to explain it, but it goes without saying that there are still men who have yet to discover their…um…sexual orientation.  Yeppers.  I’ve been there, but didn’t do that.  My gay-dar is very strong!

 

Off Brand:  You know these.  They’re the cereals that are bagged vs. bagged AND boxed.  They are usually missing a key ingredient that makes them taste like the name-brand kind.  These are the men you generally find something “quirky” about.  You can’t quite put your finger on it, but you know it’s there.  For example:  I went out with a man a couple of times.  The conversation was nice.  Not too witty, but good with holding a casual conversation.  He was kinda pushy about heading to my place after only a couple of dates, but I managed to stave off the requests until I figured out what was so “quirky” about this guy.  He had the oogie eyes.  The eyes that kinda pop out when he’s emphasizing something.  The eyes that made him look like a serial killer in the making.  The eyes that…well…made me question what making love to him would be like.  Would I be able to hold off laughing if he made “the eyes”?(shit, I’m laughing my ass off just thinking about it now.)  Well, I was right.  During our “session”, he would respond to my cries of bliss by saying, “WHAT?!?”.  I was in total shock.  I looked at him, and said…”What?”  Nothing.  I did it again, and received the same response…”WHAT?!?”  I wanted to kick him out right there and then, but he was actually pretty good.  Anyway, that’s my point.  He was just off, and I couldn’t wait for him to get me there so I could send him on his way. 

 

I realize that reading about someone’s sex life is not exactly what you had in mind, but I am making a point.  Careful!!!!  Today’s world is not the Ward and June Cleaver-ville that our parents experienced. I’ve made a plethora of mistakes, and joking about them certainly relieves some the “OH MY GOD, I COULD’VE BEEN KILLED!” moments I’ve experienced this past year. Yes, it sucks, and I will remind you that we still have to get up for work, do laundry, mow the lawn, and clean our homes.  More importantly, however, we must follow our hearts/souls/instincts.  If you don’t like the cereal, don’t buy it.  Why even bother reading the ingredient list?  It won’t change, and will still taste exactly the same as you remember, so just move on, and try something new.  Toaster Pastries, anyone?  Anyone?

 

 

**Disclaimer: Simirah is not a psychologist, psychiatrist, comedian, actress, dentist, lawyer, doctor, or street light repairwoman.  I’m just a single gal.**

Shakespeare or Stephen King?

 

I read an article, author’s name withheld to protect the innocent and stupid, called “Marry Him!”  I found it rather insulting. The article insinuates that women should just settle for any old “man” that you could muster up enough energy to tolerate.  There’s much more to this article (i.e., settle because you want to have a baby), but for the purpose of this blog, I’ll stick to the “To settle…or not to settle?  That is the question.” part.

I do promise that I’ll begin posting my funny dating stories, but I don’t really have one for this category.  I have a funny, “I almost went out with that guy?” story instead.  So…once upon a time…in a land far, far, far away (TX IS the only state that can still legally secede from the Union, right?) there lived a girl.  Not a real girly girl, but just a simple gal.  All she really wanted was to find a grown up man.  So, she got on Match.com.  One day, a man “winked” at her!  She got so excited…that is, until she read the profile, and realized that this man was 48 years old!  So, this simple gal thought to herself, “Self.  Hmmmmmm.  Maybe he’s a “young” 48?”  Uh huh.  I was entertaining this because, why?  I have no clue.  Then, I remembered the article that I read, and got really pissed at myself.  I was considering “settling”!  OH NO SHE DIUHN’T!!!  Oh, yes she did.  Even though I got pissed at myself, I still winked back.  I had to find out if this man’s profile was accurate.  Was he REALLY 48?  Was he REALLY only 5’4”? (I’m 5’6”…5’9” with my shoes.)  I have to admit, he was very intelligent, witty, but the spark wasn’t there.  Not even jumper cables, connected to my earlobes, could create a teeny, tiny, remote chance that I would go out with him.  But why did I even entertain it?  Because for one moment in time, I was weak, and needed material for this blog. OK, fine…I WAS DESPERATE!  Happy now?

This is why the author of “Marry Him!” settled.  She was desperate.  Anyone ever seen the movie “Singles”?  Remember the part where Bridget Fonda’s character tells Campbell Scott’s character what she wants in a man?  In case you don’t, here it is:

 

Janet: Well, when I first moved

out here from Tucson...I wanted a guy with...Looks, security, caring.  Someone with their own place. Someone who said "bless you"

or "gesundheit" when I sneezed.  Someone who liked the same things as me, but not exactly.

And someone who loves me.

  

Steve:  Tall order.

Janet:  Yeah, I scaled it down a little.

 

Steve:  What is it now?

Janet: Someone who says "gesundheit”, although I prefer "bless you."

(Source: script-o-rama.com)

 

Why did I temporarily scale down MY list of ideals?  Although there is nothing wrong with dating someone older, I had already set my limits.  42-43 is the oldest I will consider.  Any older than that, and the man could be my father. (Ok…maybe not, but it could be a possibility if I lived in Arkansas.)  I was scared.  Would I be alone for the rest of my life?  Is this the pool of men from which I have to choose?  If it is…then I guess that I’ll be single for the rest of my life because this woman IS NOT going to settle.  Why would I?  I love myself.  My single-self.  My dating-self.  My, I’m a pretty cool chick-self.  I love everything about ME!  Why on earth would I settle for anything less than what I want AND deserve?  Keep telling yourself how much you deserve the right man because you do!  If you have the money to buy a Mercedes Benz, would you settle for a Chevy Aveo? (Remember that Chevy was giving them away, with the purchase of a Tahoe, a few years back.)  I didn’t think so.  Don’t settle.  It’s unbecoming of a lady.

 

**Disclaimer: Simirah is not a psychologist, psychiatrist, comedian, actress, dentist, lawyer, doctor, or street light repairwoman.  I’m just a single gal.**