Relationships are hard. You know what’s not? Cereal for dinner.

Lately I’ve had days on my feet that bring me directly home to a bowl full of honey-nut-cherri-no’s drowned in 2% suicide milk. There isn’t a microwavable dish in the world that could get me to spend my last bit of energy on “cutting a slit in the middle”. I’ll cut a slit in the middle alright, a slit in the middle of everyone’s neck after a 13 hour work day. Jokes. My terrorism skills are about as basic as my cooking. Protein, vegetable, starch, dessert. Always dessert.

While I’ve been known to like my flakes frosted, I still refuse to date one. Breakfast for dinner always supersedes putting in effort after a long work day to make even a two-course meal. That’s the very definition of how men view dating these days. If they can pour a bowl full of easy, they’d rather not spend the time doing extra dishes. And while were on the topic of flakes, the next guy to make me shave my legs in anticipation for their arrival and then “fall asleep before they could make it out the door”, dies. I get it, work days are long, life is hard, but for Christ’s sake set an alarm you narcoleptic tool pouch.

I don’t know if you know what goes on in the mind of a woman who’s been stood up, but it’s anywhere from “He’s sleeping with my best friend” to “I’m a bag of fat”. When in reality the culprit is just face deep in some pillows with his phone on accidental silent. There is no worse feeling than the moment you realize you’re the only one who showed up for your date. You sit there wondering where the line between concern and crazy blur, writing point A to point B text messages that are both rational and irrational in succession. Nobody sits through the anticipation, followed by embarrassment, and deals with it normally.

Instinctively there are five stages of being stood up:


“Hey, it’s been about a half hour, I take it you aren’t coming over?”

“Hey, it’s been about an hour, you ok?”

“Hey, it’s been two hours, bummed you aren’t here yet :(”

“Hey, it’s been three hours, if you’re not going to come can you just say so, don’t keep wasting my fucking time asshole.”

“Hey, it’s been a week, you didn’t show up Friday so I slept with your brother”

That’s it. Every time. Some women toggle between acceptance and concern to avoid being labeled crazy. And then there’s me….who is so absolutely jaded by being stood up so often that I just swing directly for revenge. Sometimes even prematurely. Whoops. We sprung forward, our clocks are off and I’m over here letting the air out of your tires. Hey, if you aint early, you’re late. Get with the program.

Tonight I write you this from my couch. With a whole bowl full of time un-wasted. With absolutely no dates on my calendar. Just a pantry full of the easiest clean up I’ll have all week. Unlike men this week, General Mills is getting all my thrills. Cheers to being a cereal dater.

One thought on “Cereal Dater

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