Jenny and I went shopping.
And yes, that is a basket full of dental hygiene products. Does Jenny have jacked up teeth and bad breath? No. Jenny has a date with a dentist.
Dating is not a gender equitable sport. I’m not a gambling kind of girl, but I would bet that The Dentist did not go out and spend upwards of $100 on beauty aids, get anything waxed, or went shopping for a date outfit with his bff. I’m sure they did not sit around and debate her merits, look up her exs on Facebook, and ponder who should make the suggestion for dinner options. Is it the guy’s job to plan the date? What if he doesn’t live in Atlanta but is coming into town? The guy’s supposed to make the plans for a first date, but what if he doesn’t know your area? Who the hell makes up these rules, anyways?
To be fair to Jenny, I am just as neurotic. I tried on different outfits for my first date with the Camera Dude and sent her pictures on my phone. But this is what we do. Girls stress over looking our very best, making sure our smile is perfect, and that we show just the right amount of cleavage to look sexy, but not easy. I am pretty sure Camera Dude did not plan coordinating jewelry. I’m not sure he noticed that I did, either.
So we advance on to date #2 and now I’m stuck trying to figure out a cute outfit to wear to a museum, something adorable, trendy, artsy, but comfortable, and Jenny has another day or two to determine which shell to go underneath her blazer. To all of my married friends who met their husbands in college, screw you. Screw all three of you, Tine, Steph, and Beccers, Mrs. MyHusbandsAfraidPoopWillGetOnHisClothes. At least us single girls get to spend way more time shopping.