Editor's Note: I posted this while in sweatpants.

Editor's Note: I posted this while in sweatpants.

By Kendra

Apparently my badass, very much on point outfit for the Oscars that consisted of a black manicure, Lips by Topshop red smooch, and a Christy’s (aka: too expensive) fedora made me a look terrifying to the opposite sex last night. And your boys S­unday Scaries and Old Man Body let me HEAR it.  All right, motherfuckers. You come for my red lipstick and my nail polish and my hats; I’m coming for your gender. AS REQUESTED.

In case you don’t follow us on Twitter (and if that’s the case – what are you doing with your life?! Do you really just sit staring at your computer at work and never divert to Buzzfeed or something better? Sad, dude. Sad.) you missed some debate about hipster-dom and how all of me is essentially a walking “Red Flag” to the boys of Sunday Scaries. Never one to back down from a fight, I’m here to list the things that make me walk away without so much as a second glance from a dude.

Let me be clear; these are light. There are real things that I consider “for real” before dating a guy like their ability to spell, whether or not they’re homophobic, are they wearing a purity ring… all of which are total no go’s. But the following superficial things are frankly, things this girl can’t ignore. Or at least can’t ignore once the sun comes back up. We all make one or two or…several mistakes every now and then.

He came over in sweat pants.

Unless this was pre-talked about, everyone was on the same page, everyone is wearing sweats this is just really fucking rude. Like…thanks for putting in absolutely zero effort with your appearance to come over and try and suave the pants off of me. If he was coming from the gym that’s still not an excuse. CHANGE. Bring actual pants in a duffel bag and take advantage of the locker room that literally every gym provides. There’s no excuse; he’s just effing lazy. This is literally only permissible if the following text convo happened:

Him: “Hey girl, wanna grab a Redbox and Postmates Chipotle tonight?”

Me: “That actually sound fucking awesome. Extra guac please. Sweatpants party?”

Him: “Yep. They’re easier to pull off.”

BOOM. Yeah, your girl is smooth. (Can I be called “your girl” yet? Have I been here long enough?)

He’s not a dog person.

I say specifically dogs because, well…I have one, but I really mean animals in general. If he doesn’t like animals I don’t trust him. Who doesn’t like animals?! People suck. People are mean. They bump into you and don’t apologize, they hog the bed, and they eat your leftovers without permission. Animals are chill. Animals just want to hang out, cuddle, and stare at you while chewing on a $3.99 stuffed pig from Target.

If a guy comes to my place and isn’t all about my dog I already know he’s not going to last. Bitches before bros. See what I did there? Yeah. Still smooth.

He snores.

I already do not sleep well in general, much less with others. I wake up sporadically and unpredictably, I sprawl and flail around. I need water at an arm’s length. I’m a bad sleeper. It’s a combination of being an only child and also not giving a shit – educated guess. I’m scared of taking a sleep study because I they will just back away slowly and say “good luck.”

If he snores I really don’t think it can last. Breathing loud is like being a loud chewer and not really caring enough to change it. Be polite, sleep quietly.

He was a Communications Major.

Communications is a throw away major. It means “I didn’t know what to major in but I needed to graduate and was hoping I could figure it out later.” Communications means “I got into school for sports, wasn’t good enough to go Pro, so this is what I settled on.” Communications means “I’m probably going to take a job managing a Starbucks and stressing out about whether or not I can make this work or if I should go back to school.”

Nope. I’m into drive. I’m into having something to bring to the table. I’m not into talking about how The Butterfly Effect made him think. Nope.

He doesn’t drink.

People in recovery aside, this is a major red flag. Drinking is one of my top three favorite activities. What are we going to fucking talk about? More importantly, what are we going to do on a Thursday afternoon/pre-evening?

There is a Chelsea Handler quote I love that says: “There are only two types of people I don’t trust. People who don’t drink and people who collect stickers.” And totally honest, this is how I live my life. If we can’t share a bottle of wine and yell at the TV together this really isn’t going to have any longevity. I’m not too proud to say that alcohol is one of my besties. If we can’t all hang out together there is not a shot in hell that he is going to get me off. 

KendraKendra, Babes, Bros, Dating3 Comments