Every girl should have a poor man's boyfriend

This past weekend was pretty exciting. I was looking forward to golfing with Daddy all week long and finally when he did, we had a tiff over his lack of score keeping and him blabbing on about how we shouldn't be tiffing.

"You're the only person I can golf with! And you're not even taking it seriously!" I shouted. Or so he said. He thinks I shout about everything when I'm not speaking positively, but its only because he has this weird preconception that whenever a girl doesn't behave she turns into a screaming+shouting, foul-mouthed wretched crazy woman.

Anyways - enough with the venting. My point is, I have no friends to golf with (wow that was a loaded phrase...I have no friends therefore I have no one to golf with)and the only person I can actually go golfing with is Daddy. I left the golf course all pissy and wondering, is there anyone else who can go with me?! Anyone at all?!

That same evening, we met up with Daddy's two friends, Cody and Dan. I like them both - Dan is tall, blonde-haired, blue-eyed, single and looking (for a girlfriend and a new puppy since his bitch-of-an-ex took the dog with her) and Cody is the perfect housewife version of Daddy. By that I mean, he can make a mean blueberry cheesecake, loves desserts, uses two types of potatoes when he makes mashed potatoes (something about achieving the optimal starch content) and measures his glucose in take (or some kinda white powdered stuff anyway that looks like crack but isn't) and he's single.

Which begs the question, why are so many good guys single? Which also begs the question, why do girls complain about not being able to find a good guy? Hello! There were two sitting right beside me at dinner this weekend! Which begs another question - why did I just conflict myself? Girls complain about not being able to find good guys because they're all DOUCHES! DUH.

"Hey have you seen that coffee table book called 'Hot Chicks with Douchebags'?" Dan asked me, blue eyes sparkling in the setting sun. WOW, someone actually beat me to it, I thought.

Hell no, I replied, but whoever did that is a genius and I grovel at her (surely, she must be a she?) feet. Apparently this book is chock-full of douches who post pictures of themselves on the Internet (most likely Facebook, as it becomes public property once you do post). Must. Locate.

Cody then launched into his "I need to buy a couch cuz I just moved into my apartment and have no couch" schpiel. And I got excited! Why? Because I LOVE shopping at Ikea. I love shopping for couches and housewares (am I weird?!). And Daddy hates doing that stuff.

"Cody! I'LL go couch shopping with you!" I shouted, like some desperate stock trader on the floor of the NYSE. Maybe we could even go golfing? Shopping for shoes? Bake banana bread? Make macaroni angel ornaments?

"Cody! We'll go couch shopping tomorrow! And Dan! We can go puppy shopping this weekend!" I exclaimed, like some desperate friend-less loser making every last attempt to win some companionship after my big bout of rejection at the golf course today as Daddy snickered beside me.

"What?! Forget it, I'm not your Poor Man's Boyfriend," Cody shot back. Poor man's whaaa? I'd heard of that term in reference to steak but never a boyfriend.

"Sure, I'd be up for puppy shopping. You just have to make sure your boyfriend's there," Dan smiled and look at Daddy, "'cuz ya know, I only hangout with girls I'm sexually interested in."

"Hey, that's fine by me, you don't need me there, just as long as you get her outta my hair," Daddy replied back, all casual and cool about it.

Wow, am I dreaming? I asked myself.

But really, how cool would that be if your boyfriend was all like, hey go call up my friends and ask them to go do boyfriend-girlfriend stuff with you cuz I don't feel like it today...buy couches, puppies, bake cupcakes, just don't get me involved.

Or maybe even one boyfriend for every purpose. I'll keep Daddy around as my SexyTime Boyfriend.

Douching is bad for you

According to my research..

Regular vaginal douching changes the delicate chemical balance of the vagina and can make a woman more susceptible to infections. Douching can introduce new bacteria into the vagina which can spread up through the cervix, uterus, and fallopian tubes. Researchers have found that women who douche regularly experience more vaginal irritations and infections such as bacterial vaginosis, and an increased number of sexually transmitted diseases.

For these reasons, douching is no longer recommended as a safe or healthy way to routinely clean the vagina.

I have this gorgeous, talented, intelligent, ambitious, driven and gorgeous girlfriend who just can’t shake off the douchebags she encounters.

I don’t blame her. Douchebag encounters (DE) are very misleading.

They start out nice and harmless, like any normal date, I suppose. Fun and flirty text messages, box seats to hockey games and concerts, expensive dinners complemented by even more expensive wine, lather rinse and repeat. For a few weeks. Enough time to decide whether he’s longer-term material or not. These dates result in nothing more than a few days of analyzing the previous dates, strategic analysis conference calls or meetings with your girlfriends over a cockatail or five, and maybe even introducing him to your friends.

But a douchebag date ends slightly differently. After the expensive date, loads of wine, you’ll probably end up going back to his downtown penthouse suite where both of you will proceed to drink more expensive wine. Then douche gets trashed, words start coming out of his mouth with the sole purpose of trying to get into your pants. You’re trashed too, but you’re smart, intelligent, classy and have integrity. You don’t f*&^ on the first date. Or the second date. And hey, if you don’t feel like it, on the third date too. You’re not TrashyDumbSkank number 50034.

So the night ends, you go home, wake up with an expensive hangover, think about how well you handled the situation and get a round of applause from your girlfriends for not giving into a guy who thinks he can get whatever he wants, whenever he wants, just because he has money and is perceived to be good-looking by other TrashyDumbSkanks.

Then shit hits the fan a couple weeks later. Yes, it’s been weeks. You’ve now been going back and forth on text messages with Mr. Douche. You analyze every text, you have a strategic communications plan laid out for your reply text messages and you’ve spent countless waking (and sleepless) hours wondering, replaying every DE you’ve had with Mr. Douche, over analyzing the evening (with or without your friends, it doesn’t matter, your brain had an overdose of douche, there’s no turning back) and taking apart his text messages, trying to read between the lines.

Whatdya mean, shit hits the fan?

Well, you later find out through an associate of his that he’s spread this wonderful rumour about you. About why “it didn’t really work out” between the two of you. Apparently, YOU wanted a relationship and he just wasn’t looking for that, and that’s why YOU aren’t with him.

You wake up in bed. No it wasn’t a dream. You were just so mentally exhausted from all this drama that you fell asleep with your head buried under your pillow, in shame. Sure, you thought you did everything right. You kept it classy, clean and f*&^% free but you still got screwed over.

Pretty, Intelligent Girl 0 : Douche 1

Listen to your doctor, douching is bad for you