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.**
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