Future Boyfriends' Guide for Dating Me

A comedic piece not meant to be taken literally. Everyone has to make fun of themselves every once in a while.

Hello reader! In this guide, you’ll learn everything there is to know about dating me. At this point, I’m probably still in the beginning relationship, butterflies in my stomach, goo-goo eyed stage. I seem to hang on every word you say and think you’re absolutely perfect. This will change. Soon. You’ll get to know me better and realize that, in fact, I can be kind of… hard to handle? But luckily for you, I've created this guide. This will be your Bible for the next period of time that we are together, which may possibly be ‘til death do us part, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

Now, if you’re going to be my boyfriend, there are a few things you should know. First, I’m a romantic. No, not the red roses, candle-lit dinner kind of romance. Think Thoreau, Emerson, Poe, etc. If you don’t know who these people are, either read up or get lost buddy! Second, I guess I’m an awesome singer, since my audience--the toothbrush, bathroom sink, and shampoo bottles-- have never complained before, so don‘t feel threatened by my profusion of talent. Third, if you’re unsure about what my answer will be to something, it’s probably a no.

Have I mentioned that I’m always right? No, really, I am. This means that you are basically always wrong in an argument. You haven’t experienced this yet, but if you disagree with me, expect a fight. Now, I don’t mean those little fights where you just go back and forth for ten minutes, compromise, and then kiss and make up. I mean full fledged, Middle Earth versus Lord Sauron, except I’m more powerful than that little punk was. I don’t hide in a tower behind a giant flaming eye (it‘s like he‘s never seen those Clear Eyes commercials before). Oh, and if you continue to fight with me, watch out for my death glare… I hear it’s usually accompanied by the “Imperial March“.

I am always pretty. My makeup is always perfect, my face flawless, my body a work of art. Nothing ever makes my butt look big, and I even look beautiful when I’m in pajamas and devouring a full carton of chocolate ice cream, hoarding it and rocking back and forth whispering, “My Precious.” Dude, I am the Mona Lisa, and don’t you forget it.

We both probably know that I am no homemaker. I like my house messy, my meals from a freezer, and everything generally disorganized. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if I found a pair of shoes and a handbag in that mysterious, utterly useless box sitting in the kitchen called an “oven”. Nevertheless, if I take time to make you dinner or clean something, you should see me as a domestic goddess. At the very least I should be compared to June Cleaver, despite the fact that it‘s probably burnt to a crisp. A for effort, right? If not, let’s see how well you can cook (if you are, in fact, a chef, this part is switched.. Babe, you’ve earned the title “domestic goddess” then).

Also, I’m a writer. Anything you say or do can and will be put in print at some point. Even miniscule things that you think I don’t notice. Believe me, I do-- the way you stop to check yourself out in the mirror when you think I‘m not watching, or the way you can‘t ever put the milk carton back in the same place you found it. Writers are kind of funny people, and when I say “funny,” I mean absolutely insane. We make observations of the littlest things; we act like spoiled children; and, if you touch any of our writing, we act like you’re Adolf Hitler come back as a brain-eating zombie. We can be very arrogant as well. We are, after all, God’s gift to the world, and therefore feel a certain… duty to let people know it. I mean, we are just extraordinarily interesting, witty, and charming. Another thing is, we like to go on killing sprees, usually murdering people we are very attached to, but when a person’s got to go, they’ve got to go. After spending months or even years developing a story character, we are like psychopaths when it comes to assassinating them at the drop of a hat. We have absolutely no pity as they draw in their last breath or go through a myriad of torturous situations before absolutely begging for death. Don’t worry though, you’re completely safe unless you’re a fictional character.

Finally, the dog/cat/pet mongoose always comes before you, end of story. Any pets that I own have to approve of you before this can go anywhere serious. Maybe this sounds a bit drastic, but they’re my babies, so if you don’t already possess it, you might want to develop a love for animals within the fortnight if you want this to last. You’re allergic? Hm.. I guess I could pitch you a tent out back…

As long as you keep all these things in mind, we will get along just fine. The most important thing to remember, though, is that I love getting flowers arranged by my favorite florist. I keep massive amounts of his business cards on my person at all times (hint, hint), and if given the choice between having a love affair with him or Channing Tatum, I might choose him. At the very least, it’d be a narrow win for Channing. Did you break one of the rules? Piss me off? Get a bouquet of flowers. This pretty vegetation is your get out of jail free card--use it!

Please note that this guide is subject to modification or amendment at any time and place for whatever reason, and is relative to my mood at any particular moment because, well, princesses are allowed to change the rules whenever they damn well please!