Text Me In The Morning

Don’t text me unless you’ve had a vasectomy:

I adore kids, I have one, he’s pretty cool. That said, if you’re of an age where you want to spread your seed or sow your oats, please engagement farm elsewhere. I will not be bearing your fruit. Good day, sir.

I would prefer to date a daddy, sorry, I mean a dad:

If you have a gaggle of little blonde girls that I can dress alike and put ribbons in their hair like I am Maria von Trapp, I’m sold. Preferably their mother is out of the picture, not dead, oh god no, she’s pursuing her dream of becoming a country western singer in Nashville.

She brings her guitar when she comes for Christmas and we all gather ‘round the fireplace to sing a rousing rendition of “My Favorite Things.”

My dream date would be me drinking wine while I watch you detail my car:

First dates, to me, are akin to a job interview or jury duty, something I will eventually have to do, but I’ve successfully avoided most of my life.

I would rather watch you change the oil in my car than sit face to face with you at a restaurant. Hell, I would rather be the one changing the oil than have to make small talk over a fancy 37 course dinner.

Ideally, we would meet out in the wild (at a dive bar) organically strike up a conversation, order a couple burgers and throw back a few beers … for as long as we both shall live.

My exes are my roommates:

This is a tricky one to explain, hence I’ve based my entire writing career on it.

We don’t all live in the same house, that would be weird.

My exes have joint custody of me; I divide my time.

It’s not like they pass me back and forth, at a roadside Taco Bell, every other weekend like divorced parents do.

I can drive myself.

This arrangement has to do with the kid I mentioned above.

Sometimes good parenting looks like co-parenting in unconventional ways.

“Unconventional,” only if you think being best friends and having sleepovers with your exes is “unconventional.”

I feel little need to explain this further, but I will say, almost all the guys I’ve told this to think it’s a “green flag” that my exes still want to be friends with me.

*read I’m not crazy.

Don’t DM me if you’re married:

Here’s the thing you can DM me, but … if you are married (or in a relationship) don’t send me anything you wouldn’t want your wife to to see (or post on the local Trader Joe’s bulletin board). Please don’t put me on the firing line. If you are messaging me, it should be a given that you are single and ready to mingle, if not, walk away. Walk those fat little wedding band hands outta my DMs.

Odds are I find your wife more attractive than you anyways.

“But Candy, you’re still technically married?”

Nice try, noob. I told JC yesterday that some guy asked me out, you know what he said?

“The burrito man was at the grocery store today, he had his ‘Have a burrito!’ hat on and I ordered a burrito. It was the best day of my entire life.”

You think JC gives two fucks? Nah, he just wants you to be nice to me.

I hate bad texters:

As a communication-lovin-libra, I love good text as much as I love good sex.

I know you’re busy out there making that money, honey. You have all those children, probably some farm animals too. I get it, I’m also busy. This matcha isn’t gonna make itself. But if at the bare minimum you can’t text me

“Good morning, Gorgeous.” and “Goodnight, Babe.”

every day. We ain’t gonna work. If it sounds like I am asking a lot, I’m not.

There are men out there pulling their semi trucks off the highway to text their girlfriends. That astronaut called his wife from the moon … the fucking moon!

Don’t slide in if you don’t plan on sliding in consistently.

If you’re in a different time zone:

A much as I enjoy waking up to a 4 a.m. text from my east coast friends; if you live in Boston, London, or somewhere equally far, don’t bother messaging me unless you plan on uprooting your life to move where I live.

I know this sounds harsh, but I’ve tried to make it work with long distance loves and it doesn’t.

I need a boyfriend who is right in front of me or I don’t remember I have a boyfriend.

Please don’t DM me if you want me to boost your ego:

Cause the thing is … I will.

I will make you feel seen, heard, validated. I will highlight all your best qualities. I will be interested in your interests. You will think that you’re in love with me, but you wont be. You’ll be in love with the way I make you see yourself. Then when I feel invisible, which is inevitable, I will leave.

If you take one piece from this piece let it be this:

You’re the only one responsible for how you feel about yourself. Outside validation will always be that, outside.

Text people only if you’re genuinely interested in them, not to make yourself feel good.

(I’m guilty of this too, obviously.)

Have I successfully alienated everyone? Did I miss anything?

Like don’t message me when you’re drunk? I would never say that, drunk texts are my favorite to send and receive.

Text me!