Luv Doc: Deal Killer
As the Homeland Security poster says, “If you see something, say something.”
Dear Luv Doc,
My best friend started dating a guy recently who is nice, generally well-mannered, and good-natured. However, I had to give him the thumbs-down last Saturday night when he reached for the check and revealed ... dear God ... that he has the longest, yellowest, dirtiest fingernails I have ever seen on a man. Sorry. Deal killer. Was I wrong to be so judgmental? She seems really mad at me.
– Her Man Needs a Mani
Amazon is currently selling 24 pairs of nail clippers for $8.99 with free one-day shipping. That comes out to something less than 37 cents per pair. What does that mean? Well, on a macroeconomic scale it means that the Chinese are frighteningly efficient at feeding our basest materialistic instincts, but on a personal hygiene level, it means that your best friend's boyfriend has literally no excuse. Zero.
Sure, he may be an amazing classical guitarist, but that excuse really doesn't hold water because being a classical guitarist is basically the same thing as taking a vow of celibacy – sort of like wearing toe shoes or selling Amway. No matter what lengthy excuse those people try to give you, they clearly have no interest in mating or even recreational copulation, other than perhaps trying to play a practical joke on the gene pool.
For the sake of argument, however, let's pretend he actually is a classical guitarist; that's still only an explanation (mind you, not an excuse) for just five nasty fingernails. The other hand should be flawlessly manicured ... if only as an act of contrition for the abomination of its non-fretting counterpart. Furthermore, if the willingly celibate feels some sort of moral obligation to defend the usefulness of classical guitar played classically, the very least said celibate can do is to keep the nails on the picking hand meticulously clean and well-manicured, as if the celibate were always about to leave for a hand modeling session. What am I saying? No one would try to sell anything with a creepy classical guitar hand.
OK, sorry. I went off on a bit of a tangent there. What I meant to say is: You are doing the work of the Lord. As the Homeland Security poster says, "If you see something, say something." Otherwise, a few months down the road, your friend might end up in the ER with an accidental clitorectomy because Edward Scissorhands broke the speed limit on the road to O-town.