If there’s one thing I’ve always known about myself, it’s that I don’t make for great boyfriend material. For one, I’m afraid of just about anything that has more than two legs. For twosies, I have zero capabilities when it comes to sports or any variation of physical activity. For thirds, I do things like wear pink headbands, cuddle with huge unicorn stuffed animals, and enjoy watching episodes of “General Hospital.” I could list off all the names my roommate Micah calls me, but they generally all start with “h” and rhyme with “romorexual.” So imagine my surprise, and innevitable guilt, when I one day realized that I had a girlfriend.
“Come on now, Newcott,” you might say, “Look at yourself! You’re an upstanding humor columnist for the local Chimes periodical! Surely, you must think higher of yourself!” Well that flattery will get you nowhere, good sir. Right now you’re talking to a man who frequently mixes up the names of his girlfriend’s roommates, is frequently mistaken as Jewish because of his nose, and who once worked at a Quizno’s for less than 24 hours before quitting. This is the kind of man who zones out during conversations if he happens to see a dog with a poofy tail, and who frequently goes into violent giggling fits if he happens to think about said tail later that week.
Just the other day I saw my girlfriend walking across campus wearing her familiar blue sweater. In an effort to grab her attention I gave her my frequently used bird call. “Heeeey Yoooo!” I yelled at a high pitch. “Heeey Yooo! Lookupeer! Lookupeer!” Yet she did not turn toward my direction. Was it because I forgot to shave/use deodorant that morning? Or the morning before that?
I tried again. “Heey! Yoo! YOOO! Lookupeer!” Again, she did not respond. Perhaps it was because I had made her watch numerous episodes of “LOST” the night before and then suggested that we pretend to be Kate and Sawyer together. I just didn’t know.
"Say, Kate, the sea might be rough, but not nearly as rough as I. The only place I'm LOST is in your eyes..."
Even though I may be inept, I am also determined to a fault. So I continued my bird calling, this time louder and more intense. “HEEEY!! YOOO!! HEEEY!! YOO! LOOKUPEER! LOOKUPEER!”
Finally, she turned my way. When she did, my eyes were met with an expression of fear and confusion. No, this girl was most certainly not my girlfriend. In fact, this stranger was someone I had never seen before in my life.
Standing awkwardly, I briefly considered turning towards the nearby bushes and continuing my calls as though I was addressing something else. Instead I continued staring at her with my jaw open in a stupor. Assuming I was mentally ill, the girl walked away. The strategy still works.
So I thought I’d add that to my list of faults.
Number 172: I frequently mistake other women for my girlfriend.
On the other hand, maybe that just shows how much I want to be with her. The trouble with trying to be better boyfriend material is that it’s just hard for me to accept sometimes that someone can love me even when I know how unworthy I am of that love. She deserves better than anything I could provide, but I wouldn’t want her to be with anyone else. There’s no way I can earn that love, instead I just have to learn how to accept it. And maybe that’s what love is sometimes, accepting someone as perfectly flawed, and then being accepted in the same manner.
Hey look! That dog has a poofy tail!!