Stuck in attraction overload
My attraction-determination thingy is broken. I’m not a doctor, despite previous claims, but I think the button is broken.
Not the button that makes me attractive, trust me if that thing existed it would have broke an hour after it came out of the box. That thing would have been pressed more times than the button on the condom machine at the senior prom.
No, the switch in my head that helps me determine what I find attractive in a potential mate. The fail-safe switch that keeps me from making decisions which will make me a guest on the Jerry Springer show.
A recent study done at Princeton University found that it takes people 10th of a second to determine if someone is attractive.
Ladies, I urge you to utilize the whole second when considering me, don’t go making up your mind with time to spare and miss out on the (cough) joy that is me.
But I think my device is broken, I don’t know if it’s the stress in my life, the utter bitter loneliness or simply my lack of standards, but lately I have decided that a lot of women are attractive.
This is especially worrisome given the fact that I am out of contact lenses and can’t see things far away. Why just yesterday I saw this girl walking down the street in a white jean jacket and black pants and thought to myself, “Hello Dolly.”
Sidenote: That’s much less “Hee Hawish” in my head.
And I was right, aside from being in his sixties and bald, he was kind of attractive.
But it’s not just people I can’t see. It’s bank tellers, checkout girls, lawyers, computer experts, teachers, cartoons, syrup containers.
Let me put it to you this way ” Disney’s “The Little Mermaid” is ruined, totally ruined.
It seems to me the little switch in my head that flips on (attractive) and off (not my type), is glued into on and frankly it’s like being a dog in heat. It will have a meaningful relationship with the couch if you let it.
Concerned about the permanence of this affliction, I confided in a friend about how to fix this problem.
His response, and I quote, “Your attraction button?!?! What the hell man. Oh you mean you’re desperate. That’s not a bad thing. In fact, I know this girl….”
Have I mentioned lately how much I loooooove my friends.
But he got me thinking, what if that’s it? No, I can’t be getting desperate, but just in case, I pulled out my copy of “Jarid’s Field Guide to Desperation: Yes, Women Can Smell it on You.”
This book has helped me out many times, plus Corey Feldman wrote the forward.
OK, chapter two, ways to tell you might be desperate.
One, name the last three hosts of Saturday Night Live. Ludacris, Alec Baldwin and Hugh Laurie. Crap.
Two, are your condoms expired? Let’s see, oh Dec. 12. That’s not ” 2004, damnit.
Finally, have you begun using the phrase “Hello Dolly?” OK, that’s just a freaky coincidence.
I refuse to believe I have strayed from Normalville into Desperation Hollow. It’s just simply a problem of my thingy being broken.
They have pills for that right?
Been through a dry spell? Tell me about it