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Last week the Wall Street Journal published an article by Kay Hymowitz titled “Where Have All the Good Men Gone?” I tried, but I just cannot let this one go. After watching the reactions, from both genders, that this particular piece stirred, I feel the need to offer my opinion… and I suspect it will not be what you suspect.

Hymowitz uses her article/book to argue that men in their 20s have stopped growing up, frustrating women everywhere who are looking for a good man with whom to start happily ever after.

This article elicited many a cheer of “right on sister” from single women across the nation and defensively charged comebacks from men claiming “nice guys never get the girl” and that “its the crazy women that drive men to behave like adolescents.”

COME ON people.

Let me start with the very first sentence in the article, which immediately got my blood boiling. Hymowitz¬† points out the “milestones of adulthood”¬† to include a high-school diploma (check), financial independence (check), marriage and children…wait, what?

I agree that getting married and having children are most definitely milestones in the lives of those that choose to do so, but are these honestly how we are going to define adulthood? Am I still in pre-adulthood because I haven’t yet chosen the path of marriage and children?

The rest of the article provides interesting theories into why more men now choose to prolong their bachelor days, pointing to economic and cultural influences, which are likely true, but my biggest beef is “who the hell cares?”

Yes, way less people between 25-29 are married than back in 1970. Um, thank God.

It’s about standards people. Some women whine about all the good men being gone as we get older. I get asked all the time why I don’t have a boyfriend or why I am not dating anyone. Let me tell you why, and its not because men are now less mature and there are fewer options out there. Its because I have standards and those standards have become more and more refined the longer I go through life and realize what it is that I do not want. In my twenties I went on dates all the time. I didn’t know what was important to me yet. I didn’t know what I wanted. That was the time to explore the possibilities and learn what it is that makes me tick. At the very least I got a free meal and a buzz out of the deal.

Today? I don’t need a free meal.¬† Today I choose not to waste my time going out with someone that I just know doesn’t suit my needs. I’d rather spend my precious time with friends than being polite to someone that I know will ultimately end up in my wake. The problem is not that there are less men out there, the problem is that I know what I want. And I don’t see that as a problem at all.

(Side note: to those of you who are going to write me about how I am too picky and am going to end up weeding out someone that could have ended up being the love of my life, buzz off. My gut has always proven pretty accurate and I’ve wasted a lot of time trying to fit square pegs into round holes.)

And as far as the “immature boys” that are causing so much irritation amongst the females that are rearing to do some rearing themselves? Ladies, look elsewhere. Date up a few years. Do your presenting at a coffee shop instead of the sports bar. If you don’t want to date a frat boy or someone with commitment issues then stop chasing them around. Believe me, your mature, loving, ready to raise a Jolie-Pitt style brood is out there…

and it has nothing to do with age.

I briefly dated someone 7 years my younger. He behaved like he was 55 and was a total bore. I did not go out with someone in his mid-twenties to hear about mortgage payments and fiber supplements. I went there to have a good time. Maturity is not about age. Its also not about “milestones.” Its about… well, maturity.

If a guy wants to spend his days talking star wars and playing Sega, and you aren’t down with it, then let him be. He is not the one for you, so walk away so you can be free to find someone else and let him keep doing what makes him happy.

I’m going to go ahead and keep doing what makes me happy too… and one day hopefully I’ll find someone that is also happy doing the same things. That will be a milestone in my adult life.

For the record…here is what I want. In case you know someone.

  • slightly self absorbed (ie. confident) on the surface but secretly thoughtful and generous
  • cute but not hot
  • healthy but big on indulgence
  • passionate
  • prone to geekery when it comes to those passions
  • appreciates music
  • savors learning
  • tallish (sorry, I always feel bad for short boys but a preference is a preference. Funniness can, however, negate shortness.)
  • I don’t care about width. Seriously. Unless you are gross, but that goes back to the healthy comment.
  • Loves to debate and isn’t a whiny bitch about it.
  • Wit (full stop)
  • And finally, and most importantly I am seriously turned on/off by the pants someone is wearing. Men can go oh so very wrong with bad pants.

That’s it. Is that so much to ask for? I think not.

Or if someone could just deliver me the nerdy guy on criminal minds, I have a feeling he’d work out perfect.

I leave you with a quote that I just stole from my new facebook friend. This speaks to all the guys whining about females that are crazy. Yes, we are. Deal with it.

“I’m selfish, impatient and a little insecure. I make mistakes, I am out of control and at times hard to handle. But if you can’t handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don’t deserve me at my best.” – Marilyn Monroe

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Surely you did not think I would let Valentine’s Day come and go without some sort of bitter commentary? Truth is, whether I was single or in the shackles of coupledom, this post would be bitter. Why? Because, like Shark Week, Valentine’s day is just dumb.

Things that were delivered to me on February 14th:

  • An invitation to someone’s wedding
  • A box of kitchen utensils
  • A pack of pre-printed return address labels (THANK YOU Children’s hospital!!)
  • A notice that my cable was being shut off (I am not struggling, it was a Comcast error. I swear.)

I think my parents sent me the kitchen utensils because they realized I would not likely be getting any gifts from admirers on this loveliest of days. They are good people. This day started pissing me off when I was 7 years old and my boy crush only wrote “from Rob” on his mandatory Disney valentine.

But, I will comply and, in keeping with the love theme, I will list here 10 things that I love:

  1. I love that every morning my little coffee grinder blows the circuit in my outlet and instead of getting pissed off I just smile because that is a damn powerful mini-coffee-grinder.
  2. I love that my mom is the only person put on this earth that actually believes in my ability to cook. Hence the utensils.
  3. I love that my dad gave me all his vinyl and has not once called me out on not keeping up my end of the bargain.
  4. I love that my sister offers for me to live with her beautiful family at least once a week. Hooray for safety nets!
  5. I love that my friends put me up when I was homeless and they continuously put up with my complaints about humans and aliens of the opposite gender.
  6. I love beer. and food.
  7. I love my house now that the walls aren’t falling down and I am no longer cohabitating with rodents of the bushy tail variety.
  8. I love that I often get to wake up in Colorado and go to sleep in Austin.
  9. I love Jersey Shore marathons because I can get it all over with in one day.
  10. I love it when people casually walk on people movers at the airport. No wait, I hate those people. Stand (to the right), move your ass or stroll along on the non-moving flooring so you can continue to keep your head up your rear-end.

A few more things.

To Google: stop telling me that people “did not receive my chat” when in fact they read it loud and clear. Do you know how disturbing it is to think that someone did not receive my witty banter? Only to realize later, after I resend it 5 times, that they absolutely did read it (5 times) and were just trying to formalize an equally witty response?

To St. Mark’s Coffee Shop: Please do not put a shaker of unmarked pepper and spices next to the cinnamon and other coffee additives. I understand that this particular concoction was meant for sandwiches and the like, but I ruined a perfectly fantastic cappuccino thinking it was cocoa.

Oh, and one more thing, I saw someone write LMBO on Facebook today. Seriously? You really need to change it so the letter stands for a less offensive word than ass? I do not know you Stephanie Wilson, but I think you might annoy me.

(Mom, that rubber double ended spatula kicks ass. Just used it to stir my oats. So much better than anything a silly boy would give me for Valentine’s day.)

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