You Must Be This Tall To Ride This Ride

Okay, so here’s the deal. I have rules about dating. But then a guy comes along and I feel a spark. The spark. You know the one. It’s that electric shock you feel that makes you say, “fuck off!” to your rules. It overwrites and short-circuits any safeguards that might’ve been in place. Rules be damned. I dive in head first, pursuing the connection, with no regard for self-protection. Passion and infatuation blur my senses as my rules slip further and further into oblivion. Then a matter of weeks or months (or even years) pass and shit unravels. I suddenly realize that the crap I’m dealing with is a direct result of the rule or rules I pissed on and then shoved in a deep dark corner. And as I slam my palm into my forehead, I remember why I had rules in the first place. Le sigh.

I may or may not have recently (ahem, yesterday) found myself in this very situation, yet again. So, it’s time to revisit my rules. Time for a 2011 rule book update. My list is lovingly titled “You Must Be This Tall To Ride This Ride.” But make no mistake, this is only a metaphor. I love me some pocket gays. Seriously. Short dudes are among my favorite. There are a few traits that get extra gold stars as attractiveness goes: Short, Jewish, Big noses (jewish or not), Big penis (more of a requirement, but still gold star-worthy), and Blue eyes. Of course, I don’t limit myself to these traits (except the big peepee one). It’s just that I find these traits to be extra awesome when they come my way.

So, much like Alanis Morissette has her list of 21 Things, I’m starting my own list of requirements, preferences, and rules to which I promise to hold true.

You Must Be This Tall To Ride This Ride
(aka Logan’s Dating Requirements)

  • You must be wicked fucking smart. I mean, not smarter than me, obviously. But almost.
  • You must be no more than five years younger than me. Currently that means 28 years old and above.
  • You must have a job that pays well enough for us to buy nice things and go to fancy places. I don’t want no scrubs.
  • You must have lived in San Francisco for more than a year. Twice now I’ve fallen for the recently arrived gay homosexual. Twice it was a bad idea. Go fuck around and then let’s talk a few years down the road after you’ve sewn your wild oats (or whatever the gays are calling their semen these days).
  • You must want to screw like rabbits. I’m toatlly not joking. Like, not even a little bit. This is a big deal for me. I have a voracious sexual appetite. Not that I hook up with a ton of strangers to satisfy said appetite. But if I’m with a committed lover, we’d better not be able to keep our hands off of each other.
  • You must be athletically inclined. Mostly this means hitting the gym a couple times per week at minimum. Because if we’re going to have sex three times a day, you’re gonna need some mad crazy endurance and stamina.
  • You must love pets. I grew up on a cattle ranch. We had dogs, cats, ducks, horses, cows, and a goose. I love dogs and cats equally and when I eventually have my own place I want several of each. So yeah, don’t be fucking allergic to pets because trust that the pets will be sleeping in the bed while you’re sneezing your way out the door.
  • You must be a liberal and politically aware. It’s okay if you’re not as passionate about politics as I am. You don’t even have to be as far left as me. But if you ever use the terms “conservative,” “moderate,” or “libertarian,” to describe yourself, then sayonara muchacho.
  • You must be willing to go all in. Love like there’s no tomorrow. No holds barred. Feel it. Express it. I’m too old for fucked up games of “does he like me or does he not?” Be in touch with and embrace your emotions. Because I’m gonna let you know how much I like you. And I can only lay it all out there sans reciprocation for so long before I become a moody unrequited Logan. Do you really want to play games by holding back your affection and be the one responsible for the frown upon my face? Yeah, didn’t think so. So, Bring it!
  • You must love to laugh. I cannot emphasize this one enough. If I could extra triple bold that first line, I would. You see, I love life and I love laughing at life. I can be reduced to hysterical giggling tears from the simplest of jokes. My mom used to call me my Dad’s own personal Ed McMahon. His jokes were never very funny, but I loved them. I still love silliness and laughing until I cry. (Helpful hint: Reciting lines of Shakespeare in chicken clucks and whale song imitations are sure-fire ways to incite such a giggle fest. Especially when performed in public.)
  • You must enjoy stillness. I know this flies in the face of the silliness thing I just listed. But, sometimes spending a quiet weekend day on the couch can be just as fulfilling as a day spent brunching, shopping, or bouncing around the city mooing at passersby. And if I’m enjoying a quiet day reading a book, the only reasons you’d better be bugging me are a) to be offering me food, or b) to be instigating sexy times.
  • You must enjoy, respect, and celebrate independence within a relationship. Growing up in the woods, I have developed a powerful need for quiet, introspective time. While I want to share lots of things with a partner, a key ingredient to a successful relationship is having separate interests, hobbies, and friends. I’m an independent woman, so have your own life and let me have mine, hokay?

That’s about it for now. I’m sure the next relationship will yield new additions. But for now these are the ones I have strong feelings about. So read up boys. If you fit the bill, then step forward and let’s make something unbelievably awesome happen.

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2 comments ↓

#1 WickedGayBlog.com on 03.27.11 at 2:50 pm

What a great post. I am amused and aroused at the same time!

Dave

#2 logan on 03.28.11 at 10:57 pm

Heh, glad you liked the post. It was cathartic to write.


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