i just don't have the proper tools

There comes a time, in adulthood, when it becomes apparent that the activities of one’s Sundays and Mondays are in direct correlation to the activities of the previous two nights (or days, if that’s you’re thing, which I’m totally not criticizing, because it’s generally completely my thing). So when you find yourself at Walgreen’s, purchasing Clorox kitchen cleaner and degreaser, Pledge hard surfaces dusting spray, and something called “Tilex Mold and Mildew Remover,” it should become evident that you will soon be attempting to bleach out all evidence of your ex-boyfriend’s brief visit to your apartment with caustic chemicals. Instead, all you end up thinking about is how what should be evident is that you have kind of started to flirt with the Walgreen’s guy.

It is easy to giggle while dumping an amount of cleaning supplies that makes it clear that you don’t really do a lot of cleaning, into the open arms of the cute, slightly ageless cashier. It is still easy to giggle when he says, “Hopefully we’ll see you soon,” because you’ve just bought enough cleaning chemicals to pull off a mildly successful mass suicide, and really the only reason you would need to return “soon,” would be if you lived in a frat house, or if you had an immune system lined with aluminum, and for some reason this didn’t finish you off. You think about saying this, but instead you just smile and say, “Oh, probably!”

This is how you know you’ve started to full-on flirt with the Walgreen’s guy. Whenever you start to flirt with someone you’re embarrassed to find attractive, you always lose your funny. It is only later, as you are unlocking the security door to your apartment building that you begin to wonder what the logical progression of this relationship will look like. Now that he’s looking forward to seeing you again soon, will he ask you out? Will you go? Is that creepy? Is it weird? What will happen if you go on a date? Will you make out with him, just a little? Maybe he’s an aspiring pharmacist (not possible – he doesn’t work in the pharmacy). Is he certainly younger than thirty? Also important – what if you have to buy Maalox again soon?

This is how you are once again reminded that you are lonely.

One of my few joys at work is eating the leftover baked goods from meetings. Depending on meeting attendance, sometimes I can enjoy my baked good with leftover coffee or soda. Sometimes if the end of the meeting coincides with lunch time, I can do all this while checking facebook on my lunch break. Today I got the trifecta.  It's really the little things.

If you were wondering, yes, this does make up for the fact that our entire ceiling is leaking into buckets to such an extent that it sounds like it is raining inside, and three ceiling tiles have fallen down, because of the water pressure, already this morning. I am eating a bran muffin!

i think i was the last one remaining

In all seriousness, this is what I look like. This is an actual picture of me, taken with the photo booth camera on my MacBook Pro, and edited, so that you don't know who I am. Pretty cool, I can wear my hair in two different ways. I can also put it into an accidental variety of hairstyles. Neat, huh?

Yep, that’s me. I’ve never really had a boyfriend. I mean, I had one in high school, but does that really even count? We didn’t hug in the halls or anything, and he dumped me before prom anyway. It was cool, I didn’t really want to go anyway. Nope, not even a little bit. I had way better stuff to do like smoke pot out of apples and walk around my house in all my other dresses. He also broke up with me on AIM. He told me I didn’t have any original thoughts. Yeah, so, anyway, are we really going to consider high schoolers people?

Back to the matter at hand, which is that I’ve never gotten a date. I’ve never even had any interest expressed outside of several distinct venues and demographics. I work in the building next to the temporary holding cell. I seem to particularly blow up that spot, as one might say. Unfortunately, theirs is a moveable feast, as they are on their way to jail to be held until someone sells a savings bond or a child to get them out. It’s not really a very stable relationship plan. I also have lots of success in bars, among the drunken elderly gentlemen with real estate built up around the side bar stools by the bathrooms – hair optional. I’m also quite pleasing to those who are at least thirty pounds overweight. This isn’t a bad thing, other than the fact that I starve myself of most of my favorite foods (pizza, bacon, ranch dressing, French fries) and work out like it’s my second job in order to attract those who place similar concern on their fitness, and I just expect that same kind of attention to detail in some way. I’m not asking for Rambo here. But if we were looking for something to do, and decided to go on a jog, I wouldn’t want you to get it handed to you. I’ve got pretty short legs.

And that brings me to another point. I am athletic. I’ve been athletic for a long time – since I was about four. I’ll just get right to it. My thighs touch. There, I said it, I was a breaststroker in high school. But these days, I can do a mean adducter and there’s only so much a girl can do if she wants to walk out of there afterwards. Right? I’m not really even all that athletic anymore. I just like to go jogging. Is that a problem? Most people do it, I don’t know. I don’t think this is that big of a deal.

I like to go out. I know a lot about beer. I enjoy hip-hop music and dancing embarrassingly and I’m pretty good at flip cup. But in case you were looking for one of those more lightweight, twee girls who giggles when she messes up, I am also pretty bad at beer pong, so we could just always play that if you have a complex or something. Also, I don’t go out as much anymore, now that I am an adult. Now I get kind of sick if I have more than four beers, and actually, I don’t really have money for more than that, so I think that makes me pretty much like a normal girl.

Is it seriously because I don’t believe that a fetus has as many rights as the fifteen-year-old girl’s body that it unwillingly inhabits? Or because I believe that I should make as much money as a man doing the same job I’m doing? Is this a feminist thing? Haven’t we gotten to the point where men believe it is empowering to be with a feminist, or with a girl who wants to be treated like a real person? I shave my legs – I’m not nasty. I also enjoy being treated with respect, pretty much at all times, and I make it pretty clear. Once, some dumb five-foot guy who wore Crocs like they were normal shoes asked me if I wanted something explicit from him while I was walking from my dorm room to the campus bar. I slapped him, to the amazement of all in audience. He pretty much had it coming. If this is a boyfriend deterrent, then I guess I don’t want one. Okay, as long as we’re laying it all out on the table, I’ll admit, when I was in college, I was an art major, and I had a lot of friends who were dudes. People probably thought I was a little crazy. But, I don’t know, I think it’s crazy that we don’t have universal health care yet.

People tell me a lot of things about “turn-offs” lately. They try to give me a lot of first date advice. That’s all nice, if I could even get my foot in the door, I’d be sure to hide my professional personality, not mention too many of my own successes, be sure to appear kind and comforting, and hide my masculine, self-deprecating sense of humor. I would probably also straighten my hair, or at least use a large barrel curling iron. I’d do all that.

So, I get it. I’m not perfect. Neither are you. But you know what? I’m a lot of fun, especially at an open bar, a rap battle, or while sailing with your Uncle Ted. So throw me a bone, and ask me on a date. Don’t drunkenly scribble your number on my hand or text me and ask me to come over after midnight. I graduated from college, and I deserve all the privileges that come along with that honor.