The Un-Date-ables

My best friend and I were so bored during Radiology class so we decided to act like a couple o' high school gigglers, drawing evil caricatures of our professors and a few classmates, and writing incriminating notes to each other (if they fall into the wrong hands I would gladly pay for ransom). As soon as I got home, I went straight to my room, opened my gigantic wooden treasure chest, and found a lack of space for the new piece of top secret medschool memory I was about to add in it.


Being a sentimental floozy has its disadvantages. One of 'em is realizing one day that you have to throw out some prized moments in your time capsule to make room for others. Sighing heavily, I sat down on the floor in front of my box and took everything out, knowing it was gonna take me the entire night.


Old letters, love letters, three photo albums, tickets, laminated petals, aced high school exams, a drawing of the house I wanted to live in back in grade school, a journal dated 1991-1993, my first cross-stitch set (i know, i know, you don't have to say it.), the ribbon I used on my hair when I graduated from preschool, three slambooks from grade school, a collection of poems I wrote in grade school, a high school prom corsage, an expired driver's license that I would never EVER dare show ANYONE (one of the first few things I threw out), a few school ID's, Star City and Enchanted Kingdom bracelets, five old pagers, two giant cellphones, small stuffed toys, drawings, an old reflex hammer (where the f*ck did that come from?)... there was nooooo end to it. It broke my heart to do away with most of what I parted with, but sometimes, I guess we just have to let go and rely on our memories to keep them in spirit.


One of the things I couldn't part with caught my interest though. It was something I wrote back in 1997. I was a high school junior back then. It totally brings me back to those days of Hard Rock, Streetlife, high school fairs, crushes that weren't meant to be shared, surprise bouquet deliveries to classrooms, and when having a boyfriend above 18 was a big deal (of course, having an 18-year old boyfriend today would be a f*ckin' big deal since I'm 23). It's a real classic and it's something that any normal frustrated dating female can relate to.


Girls, this is for you:

THE UN-DATE-ABLES

(C) 1997, Unedited

The Schizo

Two-Face in disguise. A devoted, sweet and thoughtful lover when you're around. He's all poetry, roses and chocolates, and seems ready to buckle down to the ground or commit suicide once you leave him. Alas, he's a completely different person once your back is turned. You find out he's not exactly the devoted puppy you thought he was. Yes, he's the type who just LOVES being committed--too much... to too many. Best approach: AVOID HIM. He's bound to give you a mental problem even worse than his schizophrenia.

The Babe

Have you ever had the experience of hanging out at Hard Rock and being approached by this drop-dead gorgeous hunk--then finding out he's a freshman? But hey, Aaliyah says "Age ain't nuthin' but a number." So you try goin' out with him a couple o' times, but you realize that you REALLY don't care much about one of the latest and coolest video games called "Diablo", or the most touching episode of X-Men you've ever watched, or how much Synergy means to him as a second home. So you cut him off. He gives you a gumamela and probably tosses in an issue of Marvel Comics to get you back. You say you're really sorry but it wouldn't work. He cries a little, drowns out his sorrows over a glass of milk, and goes back to his computer games. Eventually, he forgets about everything including your very existence, and fixates on how the Monster-Muncher unbelievably zapped out his B-607A Spaceship. Some say that age doesn't matter, but think twice before exposing yourself to the risk of a cradle-snatching accusation or becoming a babysitter for the rest of your life.

Mommy's Little Pumpkin

He's everything you've ever dreamed of. The perfect boyfriend. Except that he jumps at every call his mommy makes. Save yourself from the heartache. Pretty soon, his mother would probably get jealous enough to make him break up with you anyway.

Daddy

Now this is the guy who needs to get a life. He wouldn't even let you glance at anyone else whenever he's around--or not, for that matter. You talk to an ex and he freaks out. You tell him about how cool your professor is and he gets suspicious. You go to the ladies' room and he worries about the possibility of you getting abducted. You have to tell him where you are, at what time, and who you're going with. He needs to know what roads you're taking to where you're going, and the addresses, phone numbers, pager numbers, and even fax numbers of the people you're with. He always has a blanket handy at the trunk of his car just in case you wear something that exposes your ankles. You have to call him every fifteen minutes and be home by 6pm whenever you're with someone else. Who the heck would want another father to tie you down? You'd end up being handcuffed to his basement and dying from lack of air and sunlight.

Richie Rich

Please. Do NOT forget to bring your jacket if you're going out with this guy. He's just so full of it, nothing but air comes out from his big mouth. He looks at you from underneath his Killer Loop sunglasses with an eyebrow raised. He runs his hand across the hood of his awesome, red-hot sports car and says, "Hey babe, need a ride?". Or maybe a simple, "C'mon chick, let's go cruisin'." You hop in but just can't seem to make conversation because the speakers were a bit TOO deafening. You feel like there's someone beating a bass pedal against your chest, and you wonder about his hearing. You say "Nice car," and he says, "It's Saturday, why'd you ask?". He asks you to tell him about yourself, then doesn't wait for an answer and blabs on with a one-way conversation about his dad's job as the president of the bank and how he got two cars for his birthday a few weeks ago, which included the sports car you're riding. He gives you tulips and orchids, boxes of chocolates shipped from Switzerland, and probably even an ultra-expensive bracelet or necklace. He says, "You're so lucky. I actually love you." Why not try puncturing his exaggeratedly inflated ego and dump him? It would do both of you some good.

The Chicker

You'll end up acting like a mother hen around him. The world's greatest Casanova, he's too aware of his good looks and draws girls to him like flies. Thing is, he enjoys the attention he gets too much, and even takes advantage of it from time to time. He makes you aware that once you dump him, there's still gonna be a lot more to choose from. Find someone else before he drives you nuts.

Johnny Bravo

His obsession and only passion in life is his own body. He loves gulping down raw eggs and all his idols are from the WWF. He asks you out to watch a movie and you end up at his house, watching the video of the body-building contest he won last summer. Everything you're ever going to talk about are how much he works out each day, how cool going to the gym is, how much weight he can lift, the circumference of his biceps today as compared to the past month, et cetera, et cetera. Forget it. Find someone who can handle a real conversation.

The Pup

He runs at your every beck and call. Anything you want, anywhere, at anytime, and he'll give it to you in a split-second. Pat him on the head and he drools all over the carpet. Smile at him and he howls at the moon. Give him a peck on the cheek and he rolls over and plays dead. This guy is desperate to get a life of his own. Tell him to leave you alone and flush his head down the toilet. Then call an ambulance. He might do just that.

Everyone knows that Mr. Right is hard to find. We all want the perfect one, and he's one in a million. Let's just acknowledge each others' efforts and triumphs in our lifelong boytoy-search, and do our best in finding The One. So I end this piece with a wish of good luck.

You're gonna need it.