So I've been seeing this girl for the past couple of weeks.
So far the relationship, if I may be so bold as to describe it as that after only a couple of dates, is clicking together nicely. You know how it is when you meet someone and everything about them seems to be really OK to you? Not just acceptable-OK, but hey, this is a person I like to spend my time with-OK?
She's got a formidable wit and intellect. In fact, I'm becoming quite convinced that she's smarter than I am, and people with long hair and breasts aren't supposed to be allowed to enter that sacred realm, not even fat hippy scientist-type dudes. It's reserved for Nobel winners, and ones with pen1ses, at that. Large pen1ses, not The Crying Game pen1ses. Yet another of my allusions gets heaped onto the bonfire of my vanity.
She's all the things I never wanted: brainy, assertive, liberal, cultured and carries goals that have nothing to do with love or money, but actual societal ideals. I met her through one of the online matching services and she had posted a less than flattering picture of herself just to weed out some of the shallower types (i.e. most guys). Not all that uncommon, but still tricksy. Nasty womens, trickses us by posting bad pictures. It goes without sayig that where there lies one tricksy idea, there will be many more. Yet, I can feel the toils settling. I'm trapped already. Doomed. Cornered. A complete sucker. Dead man walking.
Now, I know you people need a life update every time I switch dating partners about like my cat needs a reminder that **** goes in the litter box. But, I find this information necessary to convey so that I can give proper context to a statement I'd like to make.
I blame you. All of you. This is your fault.
All you hippies with your ideas and your thinking and your dadblamed culture. In some manner, I've somehow become infested. Barefoot and pregnant has become boring and drab. I'll never, ever, in a zillion years be able to take this one to meet the folks. Museums and plays have replaced my last two fishing trips. And they're bedding, too! This is quite the predicament you've got me into.
Bastards. I should hunt you all down, one by one, get photos of you in compromising positions with farm animals, and then inform the White House that you're an outgrowth of a joint venture by Al-Queda and PETA. I want my old ideals back, yous SOBS.