The only girl I’ve ever dated who lived here was way back in high school. She tried stalking me for two weeks, sent me threatening letters, and later moved to Wisconsin with an alleged rapist. That was the high point of my experience with local girls.
Everyone else local has been from either New Jersey, Westchester, or Ulster. At this point, I have to seriously suspect that they’re putting something in the water.
What this means is that when I do find someone fun, I’m in for a drive…up to a point. I got a call late one night from my dear friend who had to drive a girl of his back home…to Queens…at 12:30AM...on a Wednesday. He needed someone to talk to on the ride home so he didn't fall alseep, so I agreed to ride with him. As I’ve said before, really do enjoy driving, but there’s a certain ratio that applies to long-distance relationships. There’s a direct correlation between a girl’s attractiveness and the distance that a man is willing to travel. Talent in bed goes a long way, as well.
I know, because at 2 AM somewhere on the West Side Highway, I turned to my friend and said, “Man, I don’t know that she’s cute enough to justify this kind of commute.”
My friend replied, “Yeah, but she does some great things in bed.”
My response: “I don't care if she's double jointed and knows the Karma Sutra by heart. I don’t think she has enough holes to be worth this drive.”
Not me at my most charming, I know. But however unrealistically high my standards are for long-distance relationships, they’re subsequently low for local girls…but some how I always seem to be holding the bar too high. Let’s put it this way, ladies of Rockland: At this point a keeper would be a literate female (for you trannies, that means that the operation’s already been done. Don’t try to sweet talk me with this “but I have a cootch on lay-away!”) with no noticeable burns and who’s no longer selling her body for crack.
What can I say? I’m a hopeless romantic.
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