In the past, I have had a habit of setting criteria for what kind of guy I would date. My original list was written after escaping my first psycho boyfriend and consisted of about 20 criteria that a potential date had to meet before I would even consider them.
As a result, I was single for 3 years.
I eventually decided that I was restricting myself with the criteria and got rid of them (no doubt in some dramatic fashion such as lighting a candle and setting them on fire, as you do), but as the years rolled on and I started to encounter more than my fair share of crazy men, I introduced, revised and deleted numerous criteria for who I would and wouldn’t date, always with good reason.
The criteria have, at various times, included (I assure you there is a true story behind every one!): No facial hair – no smoking – must have stable job – must have any job – must be a tradie (followed quickly by) – must not be a tradie – must not hate women – must wear pyjamas to bed – must have siblings – must have good grammar – must be able to differentiate between there, their and they’re – must have a degree – must have a passion – must make more money than me – must make a grand gesture – must be good at fixing things… Needless to say, I’ve gotten a little carried away with it at various times and I’ve occasionally needed a friend to remind me of who I should and should not actually be dating.
For the past few years I have been living an almost criteria-free life and it is actually working out well for me. I enjoy dating, and although I’m still a disaster, I’ve come to appreciate the random experiences and life lessons that it can bring. And really, as long as you still have both your kidneys at the end of the evening, it can’t have been too bad.
Alas, my criteria-free life came crashing down the other day when I realised that there are still some things that are not negotiable, for example – I will not date a boy who wears flood pants.
I was walking through Flinders Street station over the Christmas break when I got stuck behind a guy wearing a pair of beige flood pants. It wasn’t particularly warm and it was most definitely not flooding and the sight totally threw me.
I am definitely not someone who judges men for how they dress, I actually wouldn’t know what is fashionable for the opposite sex if it hit me on the head, however until last week I thought we had been freed from the clutches of such a horrendous clothing item in the late 1990′s.
Now, let me reiterate that I am not talking about rolled up jeans, they are a whole different kettle of fish, but straight leg, chino-looking material man-pants that finish above the ankle.
Being short, I’ve always had a slight fear of this ridiculous excuse for clothing. Flood pants on me are simply pants that don’t need to have 3 metres cut off the bottom of them to fit, but they never look quite right and I don’t condone flood pants on anyone, let alone a potential date.
I did a little Googling on the flood pants phenomenon and was shocked to discover that there are actually two different types of flood pants, short pants and long shorts, according to Urban Dictionary:
|Pants that fall around the ankle. Often called high-waters/ high waters as well. This refers to the fact that you can wear them when there is a flood, or “high waters.”Wow, those flood pants are so cute, but your ankles must get cold during the winter…|
|Shorts so baggy, they look like short pants, the kind you would wear if a flood ever came to town. Usually sported by cholos/gangsters/white boys living in the hills.*Yawns and wipes out eye-boogers* Today, I feeel extra cholo. Besides my XXXXXXXXLLL plain white tee, bandanda, and new tatoo of my name placed on the back of my neck, I think I’m going to show off my new flood pants to the homies and hynas.|
So which am I against? If I’m against both, does that equal two new criteria as opposed to one?
Further Googling led to a realisation that flood pants are actually favoured by cyclists as they don’t get caught in their bike pedals and that Hipsters, backpackers, tennis players and even Pirates are also quite fond of them…
Having realised that I might just have unintentionally set criteria eliminating half the male population of Melbourne, I decided to stop. I felt like my criteria-free life was being challenged and I needed to re-assess the situation.
Maybe flood pants have a time and a place in society… I mean, I can’t judge a flood pant-wearing Hipster when I’m still confused as to what exactly a Hipster is, right? And would I really say no to the chance to go on a date with a pirate just because his ankles were showing? Or not accept that I am, in fact, destined to marry Marat Safin just because he might like the odd pair of floods?
I considered changing my criteria to ‘I will never date a boy who wears flood pants without good reason’ but I think this is only going to cause me further confusion. So, I guess I’m staying true to my criteria-free life.
I accept that I may one day date someone who wears flood pants…
Having said that, I may also date a pirate and/or Marat Safin… and just like that, the future is already looking brighter!
Just don’t get me started on Meggings… I would NEVER date someone who wears meggings!