Callie Doesn’t Stand a Chance

There certainties in life. Most people will say death, taxes, and whatever witty occurrence that they believe is a certainty. The first time I heard this, it was death, taxes, and never understanding women. To my 22 year old self, these were definite certainties. Women were a mystery. I was nice. I was a prick. There was no rhyme or reason. I was looking at what worked for other dudes, who were probably just as lost as I was, and applying it to my situation. But life has a way of educating those willing to learn and I should have written a thesis for future Crutchfield lads. I didn’t, so they’re pretty much screwed and on their own like I was.

In 2005, I was in need of a roommate. My apartment was a sweet setup and who wouldn’t want to live with me, right? Within seconds of discovering that I had a vacancy, a friend of mine was jumping at the chance to live with me. I had to promise that I would hold the spot, because being in my presence was sooo glorious. Not really, but it was quite an opportunity for the both of us. My friend was just starting college and I, ever the dedicated scholar, should have been closer to finishing my second stint in academia.

Did I mention she was female?

The following months were probably the most educational and life changing months my 24 years had experienced. At the time, I thought I was just hangin’ out and enjoying college. The truth was that I was being groomed. The grooming process included preparation for being a husband, a party planner, and the thing every male being on earth fears: being a father to a daughter. This grooming happened for several reasons. The most obvious was that Rhonda, and later Buffy, were several years my junior. I saw myself as a protector, big brother, and mentor. All very important traits. They probably just saw me as the dude who was over 21, but that was immaterial to me. While I was playing that role, I inadvertently learned quite a bit about the fairer sex and gained a more reasoned understanding of them. The results include, but are not limited to:

-Bathrooms can smell terrific.
-The amount of beauty products used by your average female could finance a small African country for several years.
-Thermostats are to be used to create weather, not control it.
-There is a lotion for every body part and they are not interchangeable.
-Eyebrows are very important to girls. Both their own and on dudes.
-What they think guys care about, we don’t.
-Every college age girl will hug someone, even if it has only been 10 seconds since they last saw that person.
-There are types of black flip flops.
-International accents cancel out douchebaggery, limited means, and gross physical deformity.
-Trash can only be taken to the curb by a man.
-Def Lepard’s Pour Some Sugar on Me transports otherwise normal females to the front row of pretend Def Lepard concerts.
-No matter how involved you are in the recruiting process for NCAA Football, grievances will be aired about random people.
-Insecurities must be beaten like a dead horse with no resolution.
-Their dads were suckers.

The last bullet is the reason for this entry. All three of us were “college rich”, which meant that we had enough money for a Little Caesar’s pizza, provided we could pick it up. Delivery? Are we the Rockefellers? However, like most college kids, budgeting wasn’t our strong suit. To me, poor budgeting meant a week of generic cereal for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. To the femaninas, it meant a call to their pops. This isn’t unique to my former roommates. My own wife used her daughterly wiles to extort cash from her unsuspecting paternal parent.

With my keen understanding of the female psyche, I refuse to be manipulated. Callie will be forced to live the same Spartan existence as her brothers. She will own one pair of dress shoes, one pair of running shoes, and one pair of flip flops that will double as shower shoes. She will wear Abercrombie clothes, only because they will be sold at Walmart in 17 years. On a monthly basis, I will purchase her allotment of beauty and feminine products. These will be an assortment of what is available at Dollar General or Dollar Tree. Her car will be a BMW, also sold at Walmart, and will receive a weekly stipend of $16.00 for one gallon of gas. She will work a minimum of 30 hours a week in addition to double majoring in mechanical and chemical engineering. She will be far too consumed with her studies to worry about what street hooker clothes are being sold at Carl’s Jr (they’ll be selling clothes in 17 years that the kids have to have). If she calls with a need for additional money, she will be directed to our front yard for landscaping duty. She will be paid a modest wage and be grateful for it. In her free time, she will volunteer at a charity of her choice, provided the work is labor intensive. For her selflessness, I will provide her meager wages.

These points are written in stone and will not be compromised. I’m stern and refuse to be taken advantage of. My ways may seem over the top and difficult. But because I love her, I will not be swayed.

Unless she shows me the picture below. Then I’ll buy her whatever she wants.