30, doomsday. I’m not 30, so I can still talk shit about them. No one wants to turn 30 and even with all the filters/emojis/hashtags you use, followers you have, and even with all botox in the world. 30 is NOT the new 20. What is it about the number 30? Does something un-magically mundane happen when someone hits that number? Is there something we stop understanding? Do we lose our youth? KEEP READING👀
I once met a 31-year-old man on Bumble named Paul.
He was very tall.
He drove a white AMG Mercedes and seemed like a guy that could get all the ladies.
I thought wow, now this is a guy to make babies.
He was born in Boston and was obsessed with Tom Brady.
He was a guys guy, a good guy into sports, and didn’t seem shady.
Paul went to a good college and seemed to come from a ‘good family.’
His father had passed and I felt embarrassed to have asked.
He was positive for the most part and successful at his job in tech.
He took me to fancy restaurants and was always the first to grab the check.
Paul dressed like a guy from GQ magazine, with his hair slick and his shoes shined.
It’s rare to meet a guy of Paul’s kind.
Paul was always polite and never late for a date.
He was a simple guy, maybe too simple for me, that just loved Boston and hockey.
The thing about Paul was he was really bad at a little thing called talkie.
He smiled beautifully big, listened to me ramble, and had NOTHING to say.
Trying to have a simple conversation with him would have taken all day.
But he liked me, he really really was interested despite him being mute.
On our first two dates I mistook it for shyness and thought it was cute.
It wasn’t shyness, he actually was a mute.
We didn’t have our first kiss until our fourth date.
After a few drinks, I figured it was time to seal our fate.
He smashed his face into mine like a head slam and bam!
Gosh fuckin’ dam!
He kissed me like a 13-year-old virgin then giggled as if he had never touched a woman before.
I really don’t think he had touched a woman before.
I took a shot of whiskey and figured hell, I’m about to act like a whore.
We went to his apartment and oh my god, what a horror!
The carpets were stained, the walls had holes, and his sheets were red.
I couldn’t imagine sleeping in that boy-in-a-man’s-body’s bed.
I tried so hard not to be a shallow, it was just a single man’s apartment.
But then he touched my boob and the man of no words at all squealed “yuppeeeee!”
And there I gave sweet Paul a hug and mercy kiss and ran on a spree!
Paul checked every box, he was perfectly dateable.
But despite the criteria our connection was non-debatable.
I never heard from Paul again and felt so guilty that I reached out.
It’s been months and after dating many ‘men’ since, I’ve come to realize maybe a guy like Paul wouldn’t have been so bad.
He did give me all he had…
Even with every box checked, Paul just wasn’t for me.
It just goes to show that there are no rules when it comes to human connection.
I do feel stupid and hope Paul finds a great girl.
The next time a guy gets so excited grabbing my boob I’ve learned to not be so rude.
With my new found realistic expectations,
I’m still single and hoping to find the right dude.
Swipe right, swipe left, wiggle undo,
It’s time I start to appreciate what is true.
Do you resent Instagram stars yet secretly want be one? Do you have too many ideas and do absolutely nothing with them? Do you know this guy that got rich quick and you think you’re better than him (cough cough my brother)? Are you young and hungry but eating the wrong food? You need to SIDE HUSTLE… and maybe trim your waist in the process.