“I hope she doesn’t smell like soup.”

Dating is a fun game. You meet someone and you gain interest. Maybe, it’s their eyes…their smile…or the cute way they flip people off in traffic. But, we all have dealbreakers. That one thing that will make us lose interest in a second. He could have the face of Zac Efron….body of David Beckham…he builds orphanages….he gives to charity….he sits through every Jennifer Aniston romantic comedy with you…just perfect. You talk to him one day and you discover that one thing. That one thing you can’t get pass. That one thing that makes you lose interest.

“Hey honey….its me. What did you do all day?”

“Well, after I was helping at the homeless center I decided to go to the park and feed birds. But I saw this little boy eating an ice cream cone, it fell down and he started to cry. So I took him by the hand and bought him another one. We got to talking and he told me he hated math. And how he hated Algebra. So I taught him about the history of the Pythagorean Theorem. And now he loves math..”

“Wow, you are too sweet…..”

“Yeah I used to have trouble with math. But my ex helped me with it…and it wasn’t just math. I had family problems, but she showed me that family is important. I am the way that I am….because of her.”

Boom. You learn he is not truly over his ex. And everytime he does anything,  you question:

“Is he that way because of his ex?”

And it goes downhill from there.

I have had those situations. And through my 30 something years on this earth,  I found out what I liked and what my dealbreakers are.

1. Substance. A pretty face is great. But what I love most is substance. Tell me about you, what your dreams are…your goal in life. Personally, I love the art of conversation. Current events, whats happening in the world.  Where do you see yourself in ten years? Please don’t say:

“In ten years? Umm..i don’t know. Probably shopping…hi-five!”

2. A sense of humor. I never used to thing this was important until I met Lindsay. She was hilarious. She was witty. She made me laugh all the time….but it didn’t work. Why? See number 3.

3. Voice. Lindsay’s voice was very very deep. I felt like I was dating a late night radio DJ who played Slow Jams. Not cool. But on the opposite side of the spectrum, baby voice. You ever meet someone who talks in ‘baby voice’ all the time? And even makes a baby sound while they sneeze? Yes, not cool.

4. Smell. I dated a girl named Cassie. She was beautiful and interesting. But for some odd reason, she always smelled like soup. Specifically,  minestrone soup. Did she work in a soup kitchen? I don’t know. But,  needless to say, it didn’t work out. The power of smell is strong. You can smell something and it will make you flashback to your childhood…when you walked to school and you always passed a bakery and smelled fresh bread. So everytime you smell bread, you are reminded of this childhood memory. So whenever I walk into Olive Garden and smell soup, it reminds me of Cassie.

4. “Other” This is a wild card. Maybe, the person you are dating has the habit of cutting his toenails in the middle of a restaurant. Or, maybe the guy you are dating always uses the words “pal” or “buddy” or “chief”. Or maybe the guy you are dating likes to keep the door open while he is doing “number 2” in the bathroom. I used to date a woman named Andrea. She had everything…looks…smarts..good voice…but she had this weird habit of making sound effects whenever she talked.

“Hey Andrea! How you been? You ok?”

“Yeah..sorry im late. I was driving(she would make a car sound) and this car cut me off (she would make a car beeping sound). I was so mad (she would make an angry face and say GRRR. ) And at work, I couldn’t get anything done. ..cause the printer kept jamming (she would imitate the sound of a printer. .and then the sound of it jamming.)

I’m being totally serious. Feel free to tell me any dealbreakers you may have.


“I’m a man and I need a purse.”

There comes a time in every man’s life where we contemplate if we could walk a straight line in heels. What….just me? But seriously, I’m jealous of purses. I need a purse but a manly purse. The ability to carry whatever you want….wallet….tissue…extra clothes…food…phone…checkbook is underrated. Men have to carry a lot of stuff too….why cant we be fashionable and manly at the same time? And no, don’t say messenger bags. I don’t want to look like a roaming IT support guy who has a messenger bag and can clear your computer viruses on the drop of a dime. I wear jeans every day. And there is no room for extra accessories in these skinny pockets. My wallet…my keys…an inhaler(I’m an asthmatic)…tissue(allergies)…yes, I’m quite a mess when it comes to health. That’s all I have room for. But what about if I want to store a peanut and jelly sandwich. ..or goldfish crackers for my little one if she gets hungry? And what if I want to sneak snacks into the movies?

“Let’s see….popcorn….two sodas….two candies…one kid size lemonade….that will be 35.00.”

“Wow what a deal! You guys should really charge more for this stuff..I mean, with prices like this you could go out of business.”

And speaking of jealousy, another reason why I’m jealous of women. You have the power to be sexy. That is not a normal male trait. Well, unless you are Ryan Gosling…cause admit it men, even you think he is sexy.

“Nah man that’s fruity….I can’t say he’s sexy. But he does have beautiful blue eyes.”

A man can put his best outfit on…..get his hair done up….kick his best lines….be witty…and still go home and grab his big bottle of lotion.

But a woman could walk into a bar wearing sweat pants…straight out of bed….and still come home with a man. Its the simple things. A woman can sit there and twirl her hair….sexy. She can bite her lip…sexy. Imagine a female going into your closet and putting on one of your shirts on just wearing panties. And if a man goes into a woman’s closet….grabs a blouse or cardigan..puts it on….and walks out wearing that and his whitey-tighties on….sexy? Nope.

And finally, I’m jealous of your bathrooms. Women have individual stalls. You get privacy. We have urinals. We line up and stare straight into the wall because if we look a centimeter to the left or right, the chances are high that some other guys’ s schlong will appear in your periphery. And if that happens,  you will leave the bathroom depressed because that accidental dong-sighting was bigger than yours.


We all guilty pleasures. Maybe we feel guilty cause we know it’s wrong….or because it’s not healthy….or maybe because we feel it would be embarrassing if anyone knew. I have a guilty pleasure for each category. But, I think its perfectly normal to have these secrets. I mean, honestly, do you really share everything with people? Are you completely honest all the time?

“Will the medicine taste bad doctor?”

“Will the shot hurt Doctor? ”

See, even doctors have to lie. Or would you like this?

“Will the medicine taste bad?”

“Yes…it will taste horrible. It tastes like phlegm mixed with tartar sauce. And to make things worse, it will give you diarrhea….a serious case of what us doctors call ‘mudbutt’.”

“Will the shot hurt doc?”

“Yes, it will hurt immensely. Your right arm will become numb for two days. And this will affect your aim while urinating. Your aim will veer to the right,  so in suggest practicing or you will make a mess everytime you pee.”

No, we don’t want to hear that.

First thing, I love reality TV. My DVR is filled with it. What’s going on the Kardashians? This guy needs to know. Which star is being eliminated from Dancing with the Stars? Again, i’ll be watching with a big tub-o-popcorn. Mama June is getting married in Here comes Honey Boo Boo? Oooh, I gotta see that! Tribal council on Survivor…who’s getting voted off? But seriously, I am addicted to reality tv shows that have to do with singing. I sit there and sing along to every sing song a contestant sings. Well, they hit the notes…I sing terrible. I cheer when my favorite contestants do well and I go into deep depression if one of my favorites leaves the competition. Yes, I know. That’s very manly of me.

I have a huge sweet tooth. I need it all the time. I can stand in the candy aisle for hours. Am I in the mood for chocolate? Something sour? Something fruity? All of the above please. I am a dentist’s nightmare.

“Yes…i have to say this but, you have seven cavities. And they are huge. The size of a Skittles to be exact.”

“Really? Cause I just had some before I got here….you want some? The green ones are my favorite.”

But my all-time favorite sweet thing is caramel. I have eaten jars of that stuff. I put it on ice cream, apples, pies, cakes, and certain body parts. (I don’t recommend it cause it is very sticky and hard to wash off. Plus, you and your significant other will smell like caramel all day.)

Speaking of my junk, that leads me to my next guilty pleasure…social media. I spend all day checking Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter. I comment on statuses…like pics…and retweet funny posts. But, my current addiction is Snapchat. Just ask my wife, she constantly receives  special pics of me.

But my number one guilty pleasure is blogging. Why? Writing? Really? Yes. Because no one I know knows about this blog. The things I write about my wife…my dirty past….my thoughts on marriage and single life…the struggles with parenting and marriage…it would cause me great trouble if this blog was discovered. But I love writing and expressing myself through it. I am addicted to reading other blogs and sharing in their lives. I feel honored to see that aspect of the people I follow. And if you are reading this…thank you.

The Daily Post-Guilty Pleasure

“Do I need to wash my junk tonight?”

The process of dating is fun. You meet someone. You work up the nerve to try to talk to them. You spit out awkward conversation knowing that any line you say could turn her off for good.

“Yeah, people say I’m pretty sensitive. I mean, I slept with a teddy bear until I was 17.”

“You love to shop?  So do I! I can just stay in the condom aisle for hours….I mean, so many choices….Magnum,  extra sensitive, ribbed….the possibilities are  endless!”

But say you find the one…..the real one. Not the one you just want to sleep with. THE one….the person who would accept you even if you pass gas every 15 seconds in public. Thats gross,  by the way, don’t do that. (I’m talking to you Mr. Blue Polo shirt who was in front of me at Target this morning.)

It’s amazing the lengths we go to impress someone. You comb your hair, you dress up in your best outfits….you ACTUALLY bathe. Being single was great,  but many people don’t appreciate the perks of being married. This is my list of perks to being married.

1. My socks don’t have to match and they can have holes in them. My wife loves me even if my big toe is sticking out of my socks that don’t match.

2. I don’t have to be “Mr. All Night Long” anymore. Now its more like, “Hurry up, commercials are on…don’t want to miss my show.” And she doesn’t get mad at my “secret collection” that I’ve had since I was a freshman in college. Had some lonely nights back then.

3. I don’t have to shave my face every day. I hate shaving. And I end up a bloody mess every single time I do it. But I do “man-scape”, I take pride in it. I treat it like a Bonsai Tree…I prune it, shape it. It’s a work of art.

4. She is not embarrassed by my actions. She laughs at every bad joke I say….and doesn’t mind that I still sing Blackstreet Boys and N’sync songs full blast with the windows down in my car.

5. She helps me keep my “Man-card.” No, I wasn’t watching NASCAR or giving my car a tune-up last night. I was letting my daughter paint my toe nails while watching American Idol.

“….you probably shouldn’t do that.”

Sometime in the 90s, a sixteen year old boy stared in the mirror. And what looked back at him was a boring light-skinned spiky-haired boy. His eyes were red from crying all night….his heart still aching from his latest broken heart.

“I’m done….I can’t do this anymore.” He looked at his pager….the screen was blank. Anger began to erupt again and tears started to flow out of his eyes.

“Why is she doing this to me? I paged her over an hour ago….are you cheating on me or not?”

He talked big game but he was a virgin. But his so-called girlfriend was experienced and during their tumultuous two month relationship, there were rumors of her “sharing” herself with more than a few people. Every day he heard a new story.

“Dude….i saw your girl at my prom….she was making out with some dude in my class.”

“Hey man, I know this sucks..but I saw your girl with my friend getting down in a car at the beach.”

“Yo….I hope that’s not your girl cause she was REAL friendly to my cousin at the movies…she had no problem trying to figure out what was in his pants.”

This was it. He called her.

“Look, you know I hate rumors. But I can’t just ignore all of them. Who are these guys? And why are you doing this to me? I thought you loved me….you said it.”

He was naive…..and almost stupid.

She was quiet. “You can’t give me what I want. Why….are you holding out?”

He replied, “I’m a virgin ok? I know I talk like I’m all experienced. But I’m not. I’m scared, ok? Happy? And I’m not going to give my virginity up so fast. Can’t you wait?”

She simply said , “no.” He heard the dial tone. She had hung up.

He threw his cordless phone at the wall. It split into pieces. He did not understand why being a virgin was a big deal to him, but he secretly was proud of it. If someone got to know him, they would be surprised because he was arrogant and cocky.

He looked back at the mirror. He needed change. He stared at his hair and grabbed his wallet.

He got into his car and blasted his radio.

Color Me Badd’s song “I wanna sex you up” blared through the speakers. He turned it off. Fifteen minutes later, he pulled into a plaza and walked into a salon. He stomped in and received angry stares from all over the salon.

“Can I help you?”

“I wanna dye my hair….bright red and blond.”

“That will take a while….your hair is black….very black.”

“I don’t care. I got all day…” He grabbed a magazine and sat in the lobby.

5 hours later, he walked out a new man. He stared into the mirror and saw a different man. A man who didn’t care about broken hearts….baggage…and wether he would hurt people. And he did. But, he learned he had fallen in love with a new hobby. He loved his red hair. So the next month, he tried orange. And after that, blue.

“Dude, you look like an Asian surf.” That was the last time he dyed it blue.

His mom questioned him, “…cant you just stick to one color? You look like a bag of Skittles. You probably shouldn’t dye your hair too much, you will lose your hair.”

He laughed it off.

Nineteen years later, that same man looks into the mirror and sees a bald man. He decided to shave it all off when he was 24 because he noticed bald spots all over his head. He has shaved his head bald ever since. But now he loves his cleanly shaved and shiny head. And wonders if the dye really was the reason he lost his hair. He remembered one particular conversation with a buddy when he was 21.

“Man, I think I’m losing my hair…it seems thinner.”

His buddy turned to him, “Yeah…maybe cause you jack off too much…you lose hair that way.”

He laughed nervously. But he panicked. He did do that a lot.

I still laugh about that today. And I can’t help but be a little jealous of others who have hair. I’ve had my mother give me advice on every single subject. But the one piece of advice that haunts me every single day when I look in the mirror is:

“…probably shouldn’t dye your hair so much. You might lose it.”

The Daily Post-One Piece of Advice

“..I’m sorry, I really didn’t expect this.”

“….and the nominees are John Travolta for his absolute massacre of Idina Menzel’s name during the Oscars….Lauren Caitlin Upton for her hilarious speech about ‘the Iraq…such as’…..Sweet Brown for her phrase ‘ain’t nobody got time for that’ during a stroll through her hallway to get a ‘cold pop’….and misplacedtalent2 for his impressive mediocrity in everything he does…”

“…and the award goes to….misplacedtalent2….”

“Wow…seriously I didn’t expect this. I didn’t even think I would be nominated for this category…and how could we leave off ‘Keyboard Cat’? But….I do have a speech prepared surprisingly….first of all, I’d like to thank my wife for teaching me that having 7 inches and only lasting 49 seconds  is ok. Thank you babe, and let’s try for 52 seconds next time! I want to thank the three judges from the Waltz competition I was in during the 8th grade…thank you for giving me a chance to show that anyone could find a way to embarrass themselves while dancing to ‘Moon River.’ I want to thank the two bullies who stole my Halloween candy bag when I was in 6th grade while I was walking down Elliott Drive….all I had was Tootsie Rolls in that bag anyway…I want to thank the hot lifeguard in the red bikini who taught me the importance of tying your swim shorts tightly before you jump into a swimming pool…cause if you attempt a belly flop, your shorts will fly right off….and the water is cold…so please expect ‘shrinkage’……I also would like to thank Jergens Lotion….you have helped me during many lonely nights during high school….I’d like to thank Smokey the Bear for showing me that even I could prevent forest fires…..and last but definitely not the least…..my daughter. For showing me unconditional love. For becoming the reason why I wake up every day. For giving me a purpose in life…and for smiling at every joke I tell. I love you baby.”

The Daily Post-Your Acceptance Speech

“Heavy breathing + a dog farting + a tiny little screen = Heaven”

An alarm goes off.

“Just five more minutes.” My wife says half-awake.

I lay there staring at the ceiling.

The alarm goes off. I turn to my wife.

“Hey….hey…five minutes.” She turns on zombie mode and walks to the bathroom.

I get up and walk to my little one’s room. She is hiding in the covers, showing me that she is not ready to get up. I grab her clothes for the day.

“Bug….bug. Time to get up.” I hear giggling from under the blanket. I jump on her bed.

“Oh I thought you were still sleeping….tickle alarm is going off.” I go into a tickle rage and tickle her feet. She laughs loudly and jumps out of bed.

The mornings are hectic….filled with getting a little one ready and trying to remember all the “honey-do’s” my wife tells me why she walks around getting ready. Most of this is done while she is in the shower, and it’s hard to pay attention to your wife reminding you about permission slips while she is wearing no clothes.

“Ok ok. I got it. But can you just stand there naked for just a few more minutes.” She laughs and closes the shower door.

Twenty minutes later, we are all out the door. I press play on my CD player in the car and the Frozen soundtrack fills my speakers.

“Yay! Thank you daddy!” My little proceeds to sing each song word by word with amazing accuracy.

Ten minutes later,  I drop her off.

“I love you daddy!”

“I love you too, my love. ”

Thats when my day starts. And what follows is 7 hours of dealing with high school angst. Wether its discussing the beauty of the five paragraph essay, discussing steategy in Call of Duty or Clash of Clans, conversing about Miley Cyrus and twerking, or breaking up teenage couples who are expressing “too much” affection to each other.

“Hey…hey you. Are you a dentist? Found a new way to do oral surgery with your mouth? I don’t think anyone wants to see you perform this miraculous new technology in the hallways….so stop.”

I love my job. It reminds me of when I was a teenager who filled these halls…in and out of detention. But this still isn’t my favorite part of the day.

My favorite part is usually around 11:00 at night.

I walk into a dark room with only a cell phone light to lead the way. I walk to my little one’s room to check on her. I see her asleep in a mound full of Hello Kitty blankets. I kiss her forehead and move slowly into my room and bed. I lay in bed and observe my surroundings. To the left, is a wife breathing heavily in deep sleep. And on the floor is the family dog…farting in his sleep. I turn to my phone in my hand and look at my apps. I proceed to press a bright red colored app….and watch my Netflix app boot up. Walter White and Jesse Pinkman fill my little cell phone screen. Heaven. These past 10 minutes are my favorite part of the day….

The Daily Post-Favorite routine