I Want Up
After going on three really good first dates last week, I came to an important conclusion: When I date men who are handsome, charming, wealthy, well-mannered and intelligent I AM HAPPY.
After not being asked out on a second date by any of them . . . . I AM MORTIFIED.
Clearly, I’m getting in the door and being led gently down the hall, through the house, and right on out the back. (I have to scamper pretty quickly so the screen door doesn’t hit my ass on the way out.) It’s time to accept that I need to bring more to the table if I’m going to be given a seat and a fork.
LIST (ALBEIT, RATHER SHORT) OF WHAT I HAVE GOING FOR ME
- Blonde hair
- Great legs
- Perfect teeth
- 36C natural (and perky) rack
- A PhD
- Occasionally bat-shit crazy (in a good way)
- My super-cute furry mutt
LIST OF WHAT I REALLY WANT IN A MAN
- Pretty much the whole package—although I am not too big of a stickler about hair just so long as it doesn’t look like Donald Trump’s.
Still, I want to “date up” despite the fact that people will stare and openly declare: “What the hell does HE see in HER?” That’s a risk I’m willing to take if it also means I will get to be in the presence of a man who totally outshines me.
I want to go out to restaurants serving food I can’t pronounce, hold hands with a demi-god, and wake-up in sheets with a thread count larger than my paycheck. Quoting Vivian Ward (for those of you too young to remember Pretty Woman, you can just stop reading right now—you won’t get any of my other references either): “I want the fairytale.”
I am not alone in this quest to be connected to someone who clearly deserves someone better. It is not always “dating” up, however. There are a whole slew of things folks do when they want up:
PREZZING UP (Think Monica Lewinsky and her soiled blue dress
CONGREZZING UP (All of those bitches associated with Anthony Weiner who will probably got their own reality TV series for one half season)
PREGGING UP (Kim Stewart . . . didn’t HER daddy, Rod Stewart, have a similar problem with B-list models?)
IMPLANTING UP (While it’s true that I like watching Girls Next Door reruns, those “I-LOVE-my-fake-boobs” chicks were pretty trashy even for The Hef)
ROYALING UP (Camilla Parker Bowles AND Larry Fortensky come to mind)
MARRYING CRAZY DISGUISED AS UP (Kevin Federline probably contributed to Brittany’s insanity just a wee bit—(and got what he deserved)—just saying)
DEFINITELY GONNA BREAK UP (Anyone with a last name that rhymes with “Snar-fash-ee-un”)
So, while doing the “up thing” may not seem like a bad idea—don’t forget the people who cleared the way and heard from the whole world that they were too ugly / mullet-y / fat / stupid / bimbo-y / untalented to be with their better half.
Bio: Never one to shy away from a chance to break-out the lube, Panty Parade writes about her sex life at Off Go the Panties.
Twitter: https://twitter.com/offgothepanties (“Panty Parade” @offgothepanties)
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