That Single Guy Smell
I sat with coworkers F. and Schmool (not his real name) today as they ate lunch and talked about their various issues with women.
F is happy because he's finally dating a journalist. That's important because she'll understand his scheduling quirks. She's apparently also into sports, which F reports is a good thing. He's ready for a commitment. That means that while he's still trolling the bars looking for college girls to hook up with (using lines from Anchorman, no less), he'll stop as soon as she tells him to.
Schmool, meanwhile, is dating a girl who he thinks might be, "the one." The main problem with that is that Schmool's girlfriend drives oil tankers for a living and works four months at a time. They had been together just a couple of weeks before she started her shift. But it must be serious. He was dating the daughter of the owner of his favorite sandwich shop (which got him discount meals) and ditched her for the merchant mariner. That was fairly traumatic, he reports. It was so bad for a while that he was paying people in our office to go buy him sandwiches because he was blacklisted. But his favorite sandwich is so distinctive that when people would go in and order it, his ex would ask, "How do you know Schmool?"
Anyway, Schmool is famous around the office bouncing from girl to girl. He reported that the ex-girlfriend of one of his buddies bet him he couldn't make it the full four months without being unfaithful.
"What's the definition of unfaithful?" F asked.
"Oral sex and sex," Schmool responded. "Kissing doesn't count."
"That's bullshit," I said. "In the real world, kissing is definitely cheating."
"What if some girl walks up to you in a bar and starts making out with you?" Schmool asked.
"What bars are you going to?" I asked.
But then F and Schmool shared a joint memory about going to a bar and meeting a girl with a shirt that said, "Makeout Bandit" on it. Schmool and two or three of his friends made out with her that night. F was there, but kept his tounge to himself.
"Once she kissed you," F told Schmool," she was off limits."
You couldn't pay me to be single.
F is happy because he's finally dating a journalist. That's important because she'll understand his scheduling quirks. She's apparently also into sports, which F reports is a good thing. He's ready for a commitment. That means that while he's still trolling the bars looking for college girls to hook up with (using lines from Anchorman, no less), he'll stop as soon as she tells him to.
Schmool, meanwhile, is dating a girl who he thinks might be, "the one." The main problem with that is that Schmool's girlfriend drives oil tankers for a living and works four months at a time. They had been together just a couple of weeks before she started her shift. But it must be serious. He was dating the daughter of the owner of his favorite sandwich shop (which got him discount meals) and ditched her for the merchant mariner. That was fairly traumatic, he reports. It was so bad for a while that he was paying people in our office to go buy him sandwiches because he was blacklisted. But his favorite sandwich is so distinctive that when people would go in and order it, his ex would ask, "How do you know Schmool?"
Anyway, Schmool is famous around the office bouncing from girl to girl. He reported that the ex-girlfriend of one of his buddies bet him he couldn't make it the full four months without being unfaithful.
"What's the definition of unfaithful?" F asked.
"Oral sex and sex," Schmool responded. "Kissing doesn't count."
"That's bullshit," I said. "In the real world, kissing is definitely cheating."
"What if some girl walks up to you in a bar and starts making out with you?" Schmool asked.
"What bars are you going to?" I asked.
But then F and Schmool shared a joint memory about going to a bar and meeting a girl with a shirt that said, "Makeout Bandit" on it. Schmool and two or three of his friends made out with her that night. F was there, but kept his tounge to himself.
"Once she kissed you," F told Schmool," she was off limits."
You couldn't pay me to be single.
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