He rows boats, wears his white buttondown three-quarters undone, has dimples so prominent they wink as he talks, and hair parted deeper than the ocean his irises resemble. Can you guess who that is?
No, he does not fix cars, cannot play guitar, nor can he sing. Yes, he is a Disney prince. Apparently, when I was around five years old, I told either my mom or big sister that Prince Eric from The Little Mermaid was my boyfriend.
After a decade and some change had gone by, I have to say that nothing much about me has changed. I have too many expectations. So many to list, that my friends have expressed their concern for my high-intensity pickiness when it comes to Prince Erics.
No girl really dreams of being asked out by a Michael Moscovitz.
Mr. Mask-Of-Zits — whom in theory probably has bangs to hide awkward, teenage forehead pimps' — can actually fix cars, play guitar, and he supposedly sings. He's no Prince Eric. He ain't even a Disney prince. Although, he did kiss a princess.
Who is Michael Moscovitz? He's a messenger bag wearing, sideburn rockin', "I'd like to top my cheese pizza with M&M's" type of guy.
Is he a hunk or nah?
Maybe he is more conservative in the pectoral region, a nightmare for vegans, and has a sister that some gals might hesitate to call their in-law; but you're missing the point. Michael Moscovitz is in that category of gentlemen you should be ashamed of ignoring since the advent of your dating prime.
Not only am I about to grill you on your realistically unrealistic expectations of a boyfriend, but I will help you reconsider what you're looking for in a man.
If you're sure you want to settle for a Josh Bryant, go get your foot poppin' kiss and enjoy the exfoliation treatment on your lips from his salted, surfer pair.
No, seriously, if that's your thing, it's your life. He'll even pass you his gum wad that actually tastes like the corn dog he chowed down at the snack shack. Josh Bryant is kind of our millennial Prince Eric — he hangs by the beach and has great hair.
Just as you shouldn't date a Josh Bryant a.k.a. player-player-mood-slayer, don't be a Mia Thermopolis.
You're Mia if you think the man you're after would be nothing more of a pretty accessory linked to your wrist. Or, a lipstick stain in the shade "soft kisses on a summer's day."
You're mia if you, for some reason and so badly, want to be seen holding hands with a "Backstreet Boy clone." Whoever your Josh Bryant is, he's probably what others see as a 3-D printed copy of your boy band member crush.
I had a boyfriend once. No, he wasn't a Josh Bryant, but he did have dark hair like Prince Eric. You following me? I dated Prince Eric. Capital "E" for ex. Emphasize "ex" in expectations. And where did that get me? Nowhere. He's now and forever just a cold, hard, shiny silver charm dangling from the hypothetical bracelet on my wrist. Yet this, I am not ready to unclasp.
This metal hoop is frigid on my skin and nips at my baby hairs. The clasp is there; it's not stuck. I can remove it if I want to, but I won't. You know why? The newly painted mani on my thumb will likely chip.
Who is the charm on your bracelet? Weight on your earlobes, loop around your finger, or key to your diary?
Whoever that is, which is likely your Capital E for Ex (emphasize Ex for expectations), you're not required to take it off. Even if he was just an accessory, keep it on because — hair flip — at least it helps you feel pretty.
Even if you decide to go bedazzle free, you'll attract a genuine boii like Michael Moscovitz...he will even see you when you're invisible.
