Ladies: If there's one thing I can pass onto you in my infinite wisdom, it's this: No matter how old you are, do not attempt to date a dude in his 20s. This rare breed of dude may be fun at parties, in office meetings and late at night in bars once all hope for a real connection is gone, but they are meant to be exploited, not dated. Come to think of it, they're a lot like condoms: Everyone likes having them around but no one actually wears them.
But seriously, dating dudes in their 20s is a capital-B bad idea, for reasons more numerous than a Medal of Honor cheat code list. First off, a guy in his 20s has never even been on a date, anyway. So when he asks you out, he really means, do you wanna come over and drink a beer or two and then bone? Yo, how about an IMAX ticket or something.
Also, dudes in their 20s have never even had a girlfriend. Oh, they always think they've had a girlfriend. Like that one girl he boned every time they ran into each other at The Basement. And then there's the like four girls he diddled outside the Springwater, but he's never actually gone out with them. They've ended up at the same parties, which to a dude in his 20s is like the same thing as going out. But they've never had a relationship. And guys need relationships to even be datable, because that means they'll actually take you out to eat occasionally instead of bringing over a sixer of Simpler Times at 11:47 on a Tuesday night with their hair smelling like Krystal.
Also: Having experienced adolescence in the decade that brought us both Beavis and Butthead and Bio-Dome, they think all the stupid shit they do, besides their band's 67 appearances at 8 off 8th, is straight-up hilarious. Like, farts are still funny to them. Like really funny. Like when they fart it's like it's the first time they've ever heard their own farts, and apparently it's as funny as seeing Richard Pryor live in 1979 or something, instead of what it really is, which is just a twentysomething dude's fart which, in my experience, has never even once been a spectacular thing. Not even once. Question: How many farts does it take before a guy in his 20s gets used to his farts? The answer is infinity. Guys in their 20s would buy IMAX tickets to their own farts if they could. Just ask them. Hey, I hate fart humor as much as the next gal, but I call 'em like I smell 'em.
If they see a boob like on TV or in real life, they will still say something out loud like, "Boobie." And it's not even in that funny of a voice. Just in a regular, almost kind of quiet voice, they'll go, "boobie." That's like the first sign of human stupidity.
In conclusion, dudes in their 20s are so stupid as to render them undatable. Just try to go out with one. In no time you'll be getting whoopee cushions for Valentine's Day and Christmas. He'd have given you one for your birthday as well, had he remembered it. If he does remember it, get ready to down some shots at 3 Crow and then stumble into his macaroni-encrusted lair for a soused crotch-grind, all part of your whirlwind romantic evening at no cost to him.
Or maybe you'll get lucky and you and his buds can form a human pyramid. That's like their favorite thing to do anywhere they go with more than five people and some booze, and they have about 300 pictures of them doing it on Facebook right now with everyone they've ever known. If you're at a party with a guy in his 20s, you have two options: You'll either be forming a human pyramid or fast on your way to making up a game that involves two stupid things, like a lighter and two beer bottle caps. Which come to think of it, makes farts sound like a pretty darn good time.
Ladies: Don't be led astray by the embittered grumblings of a woman who has clearly never had the pleasure of knowing (biblically or otherwise) a solid, consummately datable twentysomething dude. We exist — in great numbers, I might add — and as far as charm is concerned, we have it in spades. Not only are we merely "datable," but also our social freedom (i.e. no responsibilities!) and financial freedom (i.e. Mom and Dad have our backs!) make us among the most qualified, untainted and romantically gifted potential lovers you will ever have the pleasure of drunkenly stumbling upon.
Sure, your first encounter and ensuing fly-by-night relationship with a dude in his 20s might initially seem like a "bad idea." The Miller Lite we bought you with pocket change and a dollar bill borrowed from our bro might not be the finest cocktail you've ever received, and the excuse we used to lure you into our charmingly squalorous abode was as flimsy as the suds-soaked coasters at 3 Crow. But the second you see the macaroni-encrusted dishes in the sink and the college-core, eons-old laundry piles eating up every spare inch of floor space, your maternal instincts are going to kick in. Not only are we voracious and occasionally gifted makers out — you're also going to find yourself unable to fight the urge to cook us pancakes and buy us a dust ruffle. Whatever the fuck a dust ruffle is.
Now, as far as dates are concerned, my colleague has a point. We're broke as a joke, and, most nights, dinner and dancing just ain't in the cards. But that's where our creativity and spontaneity come into play. We'll help you catch a mean buzz and show you the best ways to, say, score a free game of bowling, and all you have to do is accompany us to our weed dealer's house and listen to us talk about how awesome our musical gear is. Seriously, though, we really do have the best gear.
And as far as fart jokes go? Come on. We're wily enough to know that we're not going to get past first base if all we can do is riff on flatulence. Dick jokes are where it's at. First of all, they're utterly hilarious. But more than that, phallic humor gives us the opportunity to show off the fact that we're packing fully functional equipment. Can your 50-year-old sugar daddy say that?
It will of course dawn on us at some point just how many special occasions we've missed, and our pent-up guilt and abject fear of losing you will prompt us to do something really nice. And if not nice, it will at least endear us to you so readily that you won't be able to resist. Seriously, how sweet would it be to find that we've detailed your car and plucked you a scraggly bouquet of wildflowers? Pretty cute, right? And that's the type of shit you can count on us to bust out once or twice a year, no problem.
Think about the things you have to look forward to once you're firmly locked into an eternally nonchalant relationship with one of my twentysomething brethren. The excitement. The sincerity. The fact that we're easily manipulated. The puppy-like loyalty. The reminders of our virility via constant run-ins with our exes. The hilarity — what's wrong with having a fierce appreciation for boobies and human pyramids, by the way? Fine, maybe we aren't the best candidates for, like, a family or security or a genuine connection or whatever, but do any of those things really sound like a party to you? That's what I thought.
I doubt she'd choke on yours.
The story on "the Lutheran," ELCA Presiding Bishop Mark Hanson, was from January. I was…
Bill, I agree. But you're messing with Betsy's MO.
That's cute, gast, and something he might have said.