meet Jerry.

I think Jerry is like the best dude name ever. When I picture someone named Jerry I picture them with permanent plumber’s crack, busting ass in public and not giving a fuck, and drinking a lot of beer. And peeing in public. You do you, Jerry. If I was a dude, I’d totally want to be called Jerry.

You’re probably wondering where the fuck I’m going with this. Or you’re blacked out and wondering where your pants are and who that dude snoring on your couch is. I truly hope it’s the latter because I only want my spirit animals to read my blog.

But last night while drinking some wine, and I mean shit got serious because I was literally just drinking from the bottle after I found a super long straw that someone gifted me so I didn’t have to move my arms, while scrolling through the trolls and hot pieces on OkCupid I had a revelation. Or a spiritual awakening. Or acid reflux. Whatever the fuck it was. I think I have a man’s brain.

Throughout my extensive dating career, I’ve learned something about dudes. No matter how unattractive, uninteresting, unemployed, and despite having an ant-sized dick, dudes ALWAYS think they deserve a super smokin hot girlfriend. No fucking joke. It seriously chaffs my very sensitive ass cheeks when I see a dude who sucks, with a super cool lady friend. For real? I can smell your ball cheese from here and you’re clearly hiding some balding issues under that Dodgers hat and there’s more hair coming out from under your shirt collar than a legit 70’s bush. What is happening? But it’s true. Gross dudes with hot chicks. It’s a god damn plague.

And I think I might have caught the disease. Maybe it’s sexually transmitted? I’m pretty sure I got a slight case of Asperger’s through sexual contact with one of my dipshit exes. Sometimes my vagina loses all social skills and makes public outings super awkward. So it’s completely possible I caught the aim way, way too high disease. And obviously there’s not a cure since it’s still running rampant in the world.

I diagnosed myself after I realized my criteria for dudes that I would respond to. Ethnic sounding name? Nah. I don’t want to have to roll my tongue every time I yell at your ass in public for cutting me off at the bar. Hats in every picture? Nah. I don’t care if you’re bald or balding, but I need to know what’s going on with your head. Posing with random babes or porn stars in your pictures? Fuck nah. You’re going to try to put it in my butt immediately and I’m not going to go into detail, but nothing goes into my asshole because I don’t trust her. She’s shady as hell. Oh you like rock climbing, surfing, mountain biking, running, getting out of bed, etc.? NOPE. I like sitting in a bar, or if it’s a nice day I’ll even be down for an outside bar, and drinking until everyone seems hotter and funnier. I’ll walk there. But I’m sure as shit not gonna climb a fucking mountain or swim in the ocean to get there. NOPE. I could keep going, but I’ll sum this up with I will ignore your message if one small thing irritates me about you. It could even be that you’re wearing aviators and I think you have a more of a wayfarer face. Yup. I’m shallow as all hell.

It made me think, am I aiming for Channing Tatum when I should be going for Tourette’s guy? If you don’t know who Tourette’s guy is, first of all SHAME ON YOU, secondly look it up on YouTube immediately. It will change your life. Also, RIP my friend. But seriously, am I a dude? Trying to date a Victoria’s Secret model when you look like you just emerged from under a bridge after terrorizing some fucking goats or children or virgins or whatever. I also hate cuddling. I get talking about feelings is necessary but it makes me nauseous and I’d rather get drunk and scream that I hate you and then make you get me Del Taco and forget I was mad. I like to drink beer and watch war documentaries and zombie movies and curse and burp and laugh at poop jokes. I could also be 13 years old.

However, I know I have ovaries and a uterus because I hate video games and love puppies and like to make babies laugh because it’s crazy cute when they giggle until they almost vomit and start crying. Does this mean I’m gender fluid? I don’t have my tits out all the time and shove glitter in my peesh like Miley Cyrus. So maybe not. I know I don’t want to be a dude because ew. Am I just fucking nuts? Don’t answer that. Am I one of those letters from the LQBTQRFHSUO that I don’t know what the fuck it means?

All I know is, I don’t want to be the troll under the bridge trying to rape models. I don’t know if that’s what I was trying to say but now that it’s out there I can’t, won’t, am too tired to fix it. I guess maybe I can give the dude wearing a fedora non-ironically a chance. Actually, no, no I can’t. Fuck that guy. But maybe I can suck it up and hang out with the dude that wore dad jeans. Son of a bitch I can’t do that either I’d barf in my mouth. I could handle the pink polo. No. No no no. I can't. I have to maintain some sort of self-respect after the couch incident. 

Shit. It’s going down. This is real life. Guys, call me Jerry.