I have well-meaning friends. I say that lovingly.
See that girl up there in the picture? She looks smart. She looks lonely. She looks attainable. She looks hot (at least, from the top of her head, but it’s buried in a book which is doubly attractive). I’d be perfectly content – nay, pleased as spiked punch – if I came home (or, really, left my living room) to that each twilight after work. But I don’t, and that’s not entirely obnoxious … yet …
It’s probably fairly difficult to convince you snowflakes of this, but there was an epoch when I wasn’t stricken with Chronic Singlitis.
Oh yes indeed. In fact, there was a time when I was off the market almost consecutively from 1997-2007. I was in my dating prime, playing hopscotch from LTG (Long-Term Girlfriend) to LTG, with very little appreciable difference in quality or aesthetic. I used to pat myself on the back often. Or, as you kids are calling it, constantly informing groups of friends, “Yeah, I’d hit that … wait, I did.”
That was then … this is drought.
That’s not to say I’m not engulfed in a sea of gorgeous and charismatic sirens … because I totally am.
I have beautiful, electric, energetic, kind-hearted, engaging and hysterical ladyfriends. A lot of them. I got a boatload. I’ll sell you three on the black market for $6.2 million. Seriously, I could use the cash – to easily replace the ones I let you purchase.
And they’re all delighted to bask in the warm glow of my presence. “Oh my god, you’re SO AMAZING! You’re like the greatest guy ever!!1!!” I get that … a lot. The BINGO card generally reads something like: Hilarious, Genius, Talented, Sweet, Gentleman, Riotous, Wise, Entertaining or some other similar hyperbolic set of adjectives placed on shuffle.
And then, as what nearly always seems to happen, we get closer and feelings deepen and we’re really starting to sense something for each other andohmygodtheywantmetohangoutalonewiththemintheirhouseandwatchamovie and then it hits like a bullet train against a blind, paraplegic squirrel:
“You’d be perfect for my friend.”
Crushing. I’ve heard this nine times this year (one short of an all-time record!) and possibly 62 times this decade.
As generally the token “single dude” in my circle (doesn’t matter which circle, really) I’m often the popular target for setups and hookups and “you should go after”s.
Oh, do I get excited. “Really? Oh, really, would I? Oh, it’s so nice to have such a great friend who thinks so highly of me as to recommend the John Gorman Experience to one of their besties! zOMG!!!11!!!1!” And I start bouncing off the walls and kicking my cat in anticipation of meeting someone with whom I’m painfully attracted to and with whom I feel supremely entranced.
Then I meet her … and then I have one less friend.
And I really appreciate the effort. I really do. But holy lord, you’re my friend! You talk to me on a somewhat regular basis. You know what I like … can’t you come up with something slightly closer than this?
Like, seriously? Take a look at this specimen. Plain hair. Creepy smile. Non-descript eyes. Ironic and middle-American fashion sense. Low-brow sense of humor. Possibly questionable taste in fast food. Looks like she still lives with her parents. Shit, if she were a Yankee fan it’d be like following a treasure map directly to hell.
I get that … a lot.
This is how I get weaseled in each time. They’ll soften me up a little bit at first with classics like:
“She’s a little shy, but she’s a lot of fun once she opens up.”
“She has great taste in music.”
“She can cook the best Italian I’ve ever had.”
“She’s been let down by guys before, and I know you wouldn’t do that to her.”
Then, my friends start spraying blatent lies which make the Bush Administration look positively direct and forthcoming by comparison.
“She has a great personality.”
“She’s so beautiful. I’ll bet you’d really like her.”
“She’s almost always single and yet I have no idea why.”
“Whenever I’m around her, she leaves me in stiches.”
I humor my friend and show the girl a swell time, and maybe we chat for an hour or so, but then it gets late really early on that given night and I’m fighting back yawns and feigning interest and having wind-chimes and black-and-white movie caliber alternate reality breaks as to how I’d mortgage damn near anything to taste a bite of sarcasm or a sweet morsel of charisma.
The night ends with me positively wiping the boredom off my brow and calling another of my gorgeous and intelligent playmates late at night to rave coherently and dissect the debacle, causing them shriek in fits of laughter and exclaim, “Oh, John, you’re SO AMAZING. YOU WILL FIND SOMEONE SOON WHO YOU DESERVE!!”
Deserve? That’s a strong word. Leads me to believe (based upon outside recommendations) that I’m deserving of someone who may or may not have daddy issues, ex issues, social issues, agoraphobia, schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, three STD’s, striped skin, an extra eye or fins and gills.
How about “desire?” I like that word better. “I will find someone soon who I desire.” Yeah, that has a clearer ring.
So, here it is … here’s the casting call. This is for all you friends who are thinking about setting me up once again and giving the ol’ college try on finding Mr. Endless Parade a lifemate who will tickle my ivories and emancipate my innermost true self:
- Must have all her teeth, or at least hides the fact that she’s missing half of them reasonably well.
- The type of eyes and smile that would end world wars and draws light from distant galaxies.
- An overwhelming intelligence that includes knowledge of basic human talking points such as: books, politics, art, philosophy, sociology, the DH rule, the shotgun spread, the decline of western civilization and German luxry sedans.
- The ability to get, laugh at, tell (and take) a joke that may or may not relate to cheesy puns, plane crashes, French people, Helen Keller and various parts of the human anatomy.
- An appreciation for rudimentary social activities like: going to the game, hanging out at the pub, making fun of bad movies, spontaneous episodic sex, kissing in the rain. Musical ability will earn you bonus points.
- Moderate proficiency in athletic endeavors such as: running, hiking, golf, darts, bowling, bocce, croquet and horseback riding.
- Can you name three songs by Wilco? Ok, great. Now … can you name three songs by Otis Redding? Ok, great. Now … tell me in 25 words or less why no modern rap group sounds half as great as Public Enemy.
- I’m not racist, but I do hate ugly people and Canadians. You should, too.
- Do you find that creepy guys often come up to you and ask you for your number? That means you’re probably desirable. Come find me. I’m 50% less creepy.
- An obsession with making lists that end in some multiple of five or ten.
If this sounds like the type of person that you are, then I’d love to meet you. Send headshot and resume my way and we’ll do dinner and drinks.
If not, well, then … you’d be perfect for my friend.