Love. Pffffft.
Figures Luck would be a Lady considering my luck with ladies, on par with my luck with luck, was always crap. Not crap in the sense of odor-imposed celibacy; I never had a problem dating or meeting girls*, it’s just that dating and meeting girls inevitably ended with me as their springboard.
That’s kind of expected in High School where there’s always the next best hookup, but my role as sprinboardee absolutely and uncannily morphed into (500) Days of Summer when college hit. As far as college went, if there are actually guys who turn girlfriends into lesbians, I’d have been the opposite– the guy who turned girls he dated into brides for other guys. By the time I married, I was knocking on the door of a consecutive 20-streak and even then Lady-Friend had a dating pool filled with literal Abercrombie & Fitch models/trust fund silver spooners (IE- douchebags, all) praying for my demise while peeling off their shirts at the drop of a hat.
That said, lately I’m afraid all my past-life lady luck is hereditary.
See, Little Dude has had a crush on a girl in his class. An older girl he “liked first and now all the boys like her”. Normally, that’s warrant for high fives, fist bumps or a restraining order, but on a recent shopping trip Little Dude looked in the mirror and said, “I don’t like being me. I don’t look cool and I’m not handsome. I want to be someone else.”
Coming from a four-year-old, that’s shocking, heartbreaking stuff. I didn’t think self-loathing kicked in until pooping yourself in the first grade or, barring that, at least sixth.
As a Papa and a dude I immediately went to work on trying to fix the problem. I laundry-listed all the reasons Little Dude IS awesome and added “I dunno, man. A lot of girls have told me they think you’re pretty handsome.” Never mind they’re all 13-86 years old. Little Dude quickly perked up and with a grin. “Did Brinley say that!?”
I’m not big into lying (only obfuscating) so I dodged the question with something like “I bet she thinks it!” or “Brinley? That little tramp? Who needs ‘er?” Apparently, that did the trick as he seems pretty content. For now.
In the mean time however: a deep and sincere thanks for all the compliments you’ve given Little Dude over the last few days by way of these posts here at Vintonville.com. I’ve passed every one of them along and every one gets a wide, “Papa-knocked-out-my-two-front-teeth-when-I-was-two”, check out my blue eyes smile…
…and chicks kind of dig that, right?
Tags: (500) Days of Summer, Little Dude, Love
