The Luv Doc: Real Choices
The Luv Doc is a bad planner
Dear Luv Doc,
I like piña coladas and getting caught in the rain as much as the next guy, but I hate online dating. I hate having to sell a BS version of myself to some nameless, faceless, probably soul-less person so I can "compete in the dating marketplace." Every girl I go out with is always obsessively checking her smartphone. I caught the last one actually swiping right on her iPhone as I was coming back from the bathroom. Our drinks hadn't even made it to the table yet. What kind of person is so ADD they can't have a drink without checking their phone? Was I born too late? Where are the real women at?
That's easy, Lefty. They're in the real world doing real-world shit ... like left swiping dudes on Tinder while their date is in the bathroom. I am just going to put this out there, Lefty – and keep in mind this is coming from someone who has a bladder the size of a peanut – how is it that you were in the bathroom before your drinks even got to the table? That sounds like exceptionally bad planning to me. Either that or you're a coke fiend or a meth head.
Did I mention that I too am an exceptionally shitty planner? Yeah, I routinely decide that I want to go out to dinner at 8pm on a Friday night. I get to the airport with 15 minutes to go through security. I never remember my fucking toothbrush so I always have to use one of those free brushes the hotel gives you with the bristles that don't bend. At all. It's like running a comb over your teeth. I know from bad planning, and I can spot a bad planner from a mile away. He's always the sweaty, red-faced, panicked bastard running at full sprint from the long-term parking carrying two huge suitcases bulging with unnecessary clothing.
You, Lefty, are a bad planner. You were probably born too late because your mom didn't give herself enough time to pick up her birth control from the pharmacy and your dad didn't plan on needing to bring a condom and they sure as shit didn't plan on the caterwauling bundle of joy that was you. Don't beat yourself up. It's probably genetic. If you were a water buffalo, your ancestors would have been culled from the herd eons ago, but no, you're human, and because of some goddamn inspirational planning and execution by certain humans over the course of history, most of us get a pass on some truly monumental bouts of stupidity. Fortunately our lives rarely hang in the balance (present presidential election excluded).
So here's your real-woman challenge, Lefty: Pull your shit together and drop your deuce a solid 30 minutes before your date starts. That will give you some time for a thorough hand scrubbing and maybe you can even buy a slap of Old Spice from the men's room attendant. Then go out into the real world and be as genuine, and interesting, and charming, and engaging as you can be. Why? Because real women in the real world have plenty of real choices.