TO: Men all over the planet
RE: Take note – disclaimers
DATE: October 21, 2009
Hello, boys! It’s come to my attention that there exists in this big world a little something called a dating disclaimer. Now, I know we’ve gone over the obvious sad disclaimer that some of you have toward my disability, but guess what? This whole disclaimer thing is a two-way street, and I have the right-of-way now. I’m positively sure that I will go on a date with one of your kind one day (heck, maybe my date is reading this right now, who knows?), so I think it only fair to give you a dose of some of my handy-dandy disclaimers.
First, of course, let’s review the obvious (well, I hope it’s obvious to you, boys) disclaimer I have chosen to prominently display on my blog:
DISCLAIMER: If I fall in love with you or you break my heart, you’ll find yourself in these pages. Such is the blessing (or curse) of crossing my path. Single file, please!
This, obviously, is not only to release me of all liable should a libel suit ever find its way to the Supreme Court (wow, could you imagine those judges discussing my little old blog??), but also to clear up any confusion about my intentions. The hilarious Young Guns recently told me that I am all talk. Oh, how wrong the poor boy is. I’m not. And these are my disclaimers – those things I either can’t do or won’t do on a date.
No action-adventure movies
Now, this isn’t just because I’m one of those girls who hates action movies. To the contrary, actually. I like them. But over the weekend when I went to see Where The Wild Things Are, and let’s just say that for the foreseeable future, you probably shouldn’t take me to those sorts of films on our date. Apparently, my action-movie induced motion sickness is back in full force. Midway through the movie, I had to leave. I didn’t come back. I’ll let you fill in the blanks on the rest of that story.
Rock-climbing, sky-diving (basically any verb with -ing tacked to the end of it) isn’t a good idea
I like a heavy dose of thrill just as much as the next girl, but certain afflictions (well, the most obvious being my disability) has rendered me not a very adventurous candidate. Oh, and the same goes for car racing, paint–balling and, obviously ice-skating. Now, if you invest in one of those hip Wii things all the cool kids are playing these days, I’ll so kick your ass. Bring. It. On.
A beach-walk is a definite maybe
The last I heard, there aren’t many places where the beach is handicapped-accessible – most places frown upon putting a giant boardwalk right up against the shoreline for some reason. But think about it this way: There is a way we could enjoy a quiet, conversation-filled walk on the beach. It’s easy. You simply carry me (assuming you’re strong enough and don’t have spindly arms or legs) on our walk. Come on, you should be thrilled about this. It’ll give you an excuse to be close to me, seeing as that’s about as close I’ll ever get on a first date, if you know what you mean.
I will write about you
I suppose that comes with the territory of dating a writer. No matter how the date went, good or bad, I’m probably going to write about it. I like to think that if I date a painter someday, he may erect a sculpture in my likeness or paint a masterpiece of my lovely face, complete with the oversize specs. And, really, don’t worry so much about it. After all, I have been known to sing a guy’s praises every now and then. I’m not that intimidating. Really. As long as you don’t say anything way out there, or bring your mother or your cat (or you mother and your cat) on our date, everything should be peachy.
I’ll probably be incredibly awkward
I’m just saying this again, so you’re not caught off guard. Here’s hoping you just find my awkwardness downright cute – or maybe even sexy?
[Photos via Audrey Hepburn Complex]