By Comedic Storyteller Onicia Muller
A 90% match. According to OkCupid’s algorithms, we were a 90% match. It was our second date and he showed up in an ugly oversized brown raincoat.
He didn’t look like his profile picture. In an attempt to not be superficial, I forced myself to think beyond physical attraction.
He wasn’t ugly. It’s just that every time we met, my brain screamed, “Shave it! Shave it! Shave your patchy facial hair.” My eyebrows – hell, my moustache – is fuller than that thing he called a beard. Those struggly ten strands failed to connect with his jaw, moustache, chin or sideburns. It was like applying a single tap of blush to his cheeks, but instead of makeup, it was wiry hairs.
Yes, man shall not live by bread alone; and woman shall not love based on looks alone. We were a 90% match. I was determined to make this relationship work.
Sometime during this non-torrid affair, I invited him to meet my friends. He showed up wearing his mom jeans, a Hawaiian shirt, and sporty outdoor sandals – you know those strappy sandals for men that are usually brown with cushioned soles and Velcro straps? – well, those, with socks.
What can I say? I was thirsty for a relationship. Fashion and looks were low on the list. The last dude – I had met him organically in the library – turned out to be a creep. Seems that the admissions department does not filter out those with high Norman Bates potential.
I tried not to wince every time he spoke, especially when he chuckled. His voice was three je ne sais quois from sounding as gentle as the King of Pop. Das no bueno, luv.
I know. I know. Don't try to change the person you're dating.
He was pursuing a Ph.D., came from a good Christian family, and had nice teeth. (Mini shout-out to all the orthodontics). We were a 90% match. Theoretically, we were 10% away from perfection.
During my first visit to his apartment, I noticed a large bag of paper dishes in his kitchenette.
“Oh, did you have a party?”
“He-he” (curse that bootleg Michael Jackson laugh). “Those are for me. I hate washing dishes.” He plucked a bowl from the stash and filled it with cereal. No milk. After he emptied the contents into his stomach, he tossed the bowl into the trash.
My right eye twitched. There’s so much to unpack with this crime:
* Cereal is dry. He could have reused the bowl.
* He had a dishwasher. He could have been using dishes provided by the university.
* As a grown person living alone, he could have eaten straight from the box. No judgment.
* He could have allocated the disposable dishes and cutlery funds to hiring a wardrobe stylist.
That 10% of incompatibility was probably his blatant disregard for the environment. Check, please!
No, I didn’t immediately exit stage left. Sigh. I hung on until he broke up with me. You believe that ish? Da thirst will have you out here looking foolish.
In an ideal universe, he would have hooked up with my roommate who “mopped” the entire apartment with high-quality paper towels. Dread, even using a disposable mopping pad was more eco-friendly.
Shout out to all my people looking for love. Never settle. Not even for 10%.
Created on St. Maarten; based in Chicago, Onicia Muller (@OniciaMuller) is an award-winning comedic storyteller. She writes and says funny things, and enjoys hanging with creative minds. “Just Being Funny” is a weekly reflection where Onicia laughs at life. Visit www.OniciaMuller.com/JBF
