The men I date must possess the following traits:
- They’re mature. (Meaning they can vote, buy alcohol and most importantly their wisdom molars have come in.)
- They have a job. (Hell no, paper boy doesn’t count.)
- They’ve graduated (Not just from grade school- but college. Go ahead call me a snob!)
Okay, so let me rephrase my initial claim. For the record I have NEVER “been with” a 14-year-old boy! What I was trying to say is there are moments when I am a 14 yr. old boy on the inside. Not all the time- just sometimes.
And he, for the sake of argument let’s call him Chase, comes out at the most immature inopportune times. Like in the middle of grocery store when I’m perusing the soup aisle I see something like this:
The most recent display of my teenage wasteland mentality came up when I received an e-mail from a casting directory looking for women 18-45 of all ethnicities for the film currently titled “BEAVER”. Really? The adult animal-lover in me thinks, “It’s about time Hollywood made a movie about those adorable bucked-teeth furry creatures who are nature’s construction workers.” Chase, my inner 14 year-old thinks “Hmmm, I wonder if that means I have to wear crotch-less panties to the audition.”