And now, Monkey Barn is proud to present a Very Special Love is a Battlefield: Directly from her inbox, Sea Hag shares an e-mail to a suitor who just wasn't up to her standards.
Today's lesson: I shaved my legs for this?
I enjoyed meeting you yesterday for lunch. That was one tasty grilled cheese sandwich. I also enjoyed our conversation, thank you for enlightening me on the fascinating and varied world that is Data Processing.
In spite of the fact that one would consider our date a success, and that you were, indeed, a smart, handsome, funny and well-educated man, I believe there is no future for us. Now, now, I know this is a shock to you. I'll give you a second to come to terms with this. Are you ready to continue our conversation yet? No? OK, I'll give you a second to dry your tears.
Well, now that that bit of awkwardness is out of the way, let me inform you where it went so horribly wrong: I spent that morning at the mall for the express purpose of buying a shirt for our upcoming date. This was actually my third day of shopping for The Perfect Date Shirt, and luck was with me that morning as I found the adorable cinnamon-colored blouse I wore on our date. As you may recall, it was cotton, which conveyed the 'I'm laid back' message, but preppy enough to say 'but not too laid back to be unfashionable!' I'm sure you also noticed that the color of said shirt superbly set off my light tan and also accented my fabulously juicy breasts in a sensual but non-slutty way.
I went home after this and agonized for an hour over what shoes I should wear with my Shirt-To-End-All-Shirts, and I'm sure you noticed the adorable open-toed sandals I wound up wearing, and the fact that they matched my purse exactly and, of course, showed off my new pedicure.
And then, I drove to the restaurant we chose. And you showed up.
And you hadn't shaved.
I won't even mention the fact that the clothes you had on were so wrinkled it looked like you got them out of the Dumpster at Old Navy. Also, I won't mention the faded, sweat-streaked turd you had on your head that you had the nerve to refer to as a 'hat'. No, we'll just focus on the fact that you didn't even bother to do one of the most basic personal hygiene requirements. Think of it this way: I'm sure you'd shave to go to a job interview, so why wouldn't you shave for a first date? After all, isn't a first date just an interview to see if I think you're qualified for a position in my panties?
Oh, and don't get me wrong; I may have gone the extra mile to look great on this first date, but I wasn't doing it specifically for you. I did it because I have a little pride. Try it sometime.
No love for you,
loveseahag (at) gmail (dot) com