This evening, Susie and I were discussing a topic near but far from dear to my heart; this is a conversation that has been had by all women, of all ages, from what I’m assuming is the beginning of time. We was t@lkin’ b0yz.
The conversation was, as per usual, a dissection of the active (or, perhaps more accurate, complete lack of) female to male relationships as it pertains to the lives of one Julia Patton and one Susannah Ashkenas. Although conversation with a friend such as Susie is always warmly welcomed, our dialogue on the subject was brief and unoriginal at best, no thanks to the complete lack of changes since the last time we had this exact discussion (estimated at roughly one week ago).
As I’ve briefly mentioned before, bringing boy talk to the blog is always something that I shy away from for a few reasons (one main whopper being due to the fact that there is not much to write about on the subject besides “me lonely. me want boy. me eat feelings.” over and over and over again), but as I’ve briefly mentioned before (or you’ve had the immense pleasure of hearing me complain about this in person (…sorry…) ) Savannah is a complete, desolate, dehydrated, wasteland for available guys …but, hold on– that’s not completely true. As I’ve taken to local coffee shops as my laboratories of observation and discovery in the last three years in this fair city, it has come to my attention that it’s not just the lack of men keeping us from this mythical adventure called dating. Oh, no. There are boys alright. Everywhere I freaking look, they’re there. What’s really keeping us ladies from evenings of lipstick, small talk and chivalry (you didn’t know that word still existed, did you?) is what I call the “SCAD Funnel.” Let’s walk through it:
Take 100 SCAD students
Now take out all of the girls
You’re left with 30 boys
Now take out all of the boys who like boys
You’re left with 17 boys
Call me picky or old fashioned, but now take out all of the boys who have, in the past year used illegal drugs.
You’re left with 7 boys
Call me prudish or intolerant, but now take out all of the boys who don’t share the same religious beliefs as me, and just to save them the time, let’s drop the ones who we both know I have absolutely nothing in common with.
You’re left with 2 boys.
Oh, but before we get all home-wrecker up in here, Do either of you boys have girlfriends?
Ok, I’m left with 1 boy.
1 boy who, we’re assuming, isn’t a total arrogant jerk thanks to the fact that he knows he is 1 available boy out of 30 boys in a city teeming with 70 female piranhas lurking around every corner.
1 boy who’s chances of meeting me are highest either literally bumping into me as I walk down the street or in class (which, let’s not forget, are classes in which I study… wait for it… fashion design.)
1 boy who, and I know I’m shooting for the stars here, but is… dare I say… attractive…?
1 boy who has to like me back.
May the odds be ever in your favor.
This brings me to my next point.
I think about all of my close girl friends. And how, completely objectively speaking, of course, THEY ARE ALL THE GREATEST. Fun and smart and creative and caring (not to mention totally beautiful) girls who are all undesirably single. I’m reminded of something that I learned in high school physics (I know– I’m as shocked as you are). Newton’s third law: For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. So, from what I understand about physics, shouldn’t this mean that for every amazing girl that I know, there should be an amazing guy somewhere out there? But where are they? I refuse to believe they just don’t exist. That’s too easy. And I have way too much faith in the mom’s of the world to believe that they’ve all raised they’re sons to be total duds. I’ve been thinking and I’ve come up something: The Cream Theory.
Allow me to explain.
Throughout high school when it seems that teenage boys today get nearly a free pass from society to behave in a manner with absolutely no real expectations, limitations or consequences put on them, I came to terms with turning a blind eye. It’s just a phase, they said. Boys aren’t ready for you, they said. They literally have the emotional capacity of a lima bean, they said. Wait until college to date, they said. Well, call me naive, but I thought that by the time they hit their 20’s and the bright light of life after college started to glare deep into our eyes, the creamiest of boys, the best of the best, would have risen to the top, ready to join the ladies in taking on the responsibilities of life and the joys of a (far from perfect) maturity that comes with growing up.
Let me just take this moment to clarify. I’m not looking for Don Draper. I am SO so far from the expectations of marriage and a salary to depend on. What I am asking for is a date. A date with a boy who can carry a conversation (about basket weaving, for all I care) and who compliments my hair. In return, I promise to laugh at most of your jokes and pretend to care about your favorite sports team.
This, my friends, is the Cream Theory.
I’m not complaining. Ok, maybe I am a little. But I definitely don’t want your pity. All I’m asking for is for guys to show up. Boys, it’s time for you and all your little creamy friends to pack up your comfy spot in the middle of the milk that you’ve all been hanging out at for the last 20 years and get moving. Us girls are ready. As Ghandi once said, “Be the cream you wish to see in this world.”
RISE TO THE TOP.
BEFORE YOU TURN SOUR.