Sarah White House


Dear Dave/Steve/Josh/Joe/Mike/Mark/Homie,

Dating me would be more fun than watching your TV.

For instance: I drive an old BMW.  That’s fun.  I love playing flag football.  My tennis serves always place in the box, which makes me a good doubles partner, but my returns are never zingers, which makes me great to play against.  I will never make you lose at anything just so I can win.  I almost always win at Set and Boggle.  Car talk doesn’t bore me.  I am training for a half-marathon, but I guarantee you still run faster than I do.

Your roommates won’t ask you the questions I will.  They won’t listen to your answers the way I would.  They wouldn’t scratch your back in church, laugh when you tell dad jokes, or want to hear what you did at work.  They won’t (I hope) cuddle with you while you’re watching The Italian Job or hulu.  I do not smell like rancid male.

The quality of my massages is only exceeded by my willingness to give them.  In fact, I may or may not have been told that my hands know how to “pleasure a man”; I guarantee this was in as virginal a sense as possible.

Chances are good I kiss better than your last girlfriend.

I wear high heels.  I have beautiful skin.  I both tan and have freckles.  And the first night I wore red lipstick, my roommates could not get over themselves.  I’ll save some of that for you.

I score variously as an introvert and an extrovert on personality tests, so I’m great at parties and happy at home.  I’m neither chipper nor grumpy in the mornings.

Women love me, which means that your sisters, your mom, your aunts, and your female best friend are likely to approve.  It also means that when you want to hang out with the guys, I’ll have something else I want to do.  However, I have never had a desire to put a cat in booties or put a sweater on a puppy or kiss any animal on the mouth.  I do not use the word “kitty.”

I rarely stress out.  I like to laugh when I cry.  I was in a sketch comedy troupe.  My emails to you will be at turns clever, coy, honest, witty, deep, snarky, and literary.  You will want to reread them.  You will feel smarter when you are with me.

You will eat better with me than you will with anyone else.  I like eating in and dining out.  I bake chocolate cake with fudge frosting, all from scratch.  My eggplant parmesan is unreal.  I believe in produce at every meal and desserts everyday.  I can make dinner from only what you have in your cupboards.  I’d also happily let you cook.

I should probably say this: I may not be the prettiest girl you know, but I am better looking than I was at 18, 22, 25, even 27.  And I have to tell you—for at least the next 7 years (I’m estimating), it’s only going to get better.  Can TV say that?

I know there are good and bad reasons to date for the short-term/to never date for the short-term. But here I want to focus on this one thing: that dating me could be fun.  I may not be the girl you marry—you may not be the man I want to marry—but together, now, it could be a good time.

Perfect girl in the ether be hanged.

Author’s Note: I realize that if I really wanted to share this message with boys, I would choose a forum besides The Apron Stage, since from the daily comments, it seems our readership is largely female and often married.  But at this moment, your apparently predominantly femaleness relieves me.  A girl can only be so bold in one day.