On Behalf Of My Gender

I took a cute blind date out to dinner the other night.

In the words of my Grandfather, "That's the only girl that will fall for you, so keep picking them up at the deaf and blind school."

For full effect, download "All Apologies" by Nirvana and play at maximum volume throughout the duration of this post.

I must say that it was an enjoyable evening. She was attractive, ambitious, and a shade sarcastic. We talked about education, about politics, and about gluten-free desserts. As the night wound down an embarrassing topic came up to which I am still somewhat ashamed.

The Blind Girl: "I dated a real project once. He was an athlete, a high-school love, but as I look back he was kind of a tool. A real project."

Swamp Thing: "So why did you stick with him for over two years?"

The Blind Girl: "I don't know, because I think girls want projects like him."

It was at this point where I offered my emphatic condolences for this high-school sweetheart's selfish blunders, and with this blogpost I would like to apologize to every woman reading this, for all of the idiotic actions that my gender is responsible for.

I'm sorry for the guys that walk into a college dorm room holding a guitar saying that they "just want to play a few riffs for the ladies". I'm sorry for the guys who only tuck their shirts in at the belt buckle and think that is attractive. I'm sorry for the guys that don't open your door, that don't say you look pretty, that don't pick up the check on your second dates with them.

I'm sorry for all of the two-word text messages sent after 1 a.m. which are essentially booty calls. I'm sorry for the guys who get another girls number even when they are on a date with you. I'm sorry for movies like "The Expendables", "Terminator", and "First Blood" that you've been forced to sit through. I'm sorry for the guys that value the new exhaust pipe on their F-250 more than they value what happens in your life.

I'm sorry for the guys who think that late nights at Iggy's Bar and Grill is more important than your anniversary. I'm sorry for the guys that invest more time in "leveling up" in World of Warcraft rather than investing time in getting to know you more. I'm sorry for the guys that actually know how to "level up". I'm sorry for the accidental text messages that are sent to break a couple up. I'm sorry for the guys who actually take their spray tans seriously.

I'm sorry for the guys that know more about the starting lineup for the Chicago Bulls than they know about your parents. I'm sorry for the schmucks who don't know how to do their own laundry, cook a meal, or even shave for that matter. I'm sorry that they were too lazy to learn anything from their Moms. On the opposite side, I'm sorry for the guys who are more feminine than you are, and who care more about their bikini wax and manicure than you do.

I'm sorry for the drones who are 31, still live in their parents basements, have no career, no education, no motives, no standards, and are hoping that "this gig in California" will somehow work out. I'm sorry for the guys that drive Ford Priuses. I'm sorry for the guys who don't understand the concept that you sometimes L-word chocolate more than you L-word them. I'm sorry for the guys who wear pink.

On behalf of all of the men who are respectful, kind, and devilishly good-looking, I apologize for all of the putzes, for all of the curse words, for all of the projects that you deal with. Don't waste your time with them.

You're better than that.