Okay, okay – in full disclosure, I’ve never actually speed dated. But I’ve seen enough of it on TV (and we all know if it’s on a screen of any kind it must be valid!) and heard about it from friends that I feel that I’m well versed (enough) to use it in this metaphor. If you have speed dated and have a different opinion than mine, I’d love to hear from you in the comments below.
I do believe experience trumps conjecture. How I wish everyone believed that.
But honestly, if you’ve ventured forth into the jungle of retail recently, I can’t imagine how you can disagree with my insightful statement: Buying jeans is like speed dating. This truism struck me during the third hour in the fifth store as I tried on yet another stack of jeans that all ended up in the Reject pile in my dressing room. Well, except for one hopeful pair that made it to the empty Maybe pile until I retried it on in sheer desperation and then realized I really need to be able to sit down in my pants.
Nope. Reject pile for you, buster.
I suddenly started feeling badly for this poor rejected pair of jeans whose only crime was not curving where I needed it to curve and not squashing what I needed squashed. And it occurred to me, “This is how rejected people must feel when they’re speed dating.”
Logical conclusion, right? Don’t you think this esoterically when you’re exhausted, disscouraged, and your feet feel like bowling balls? Of course you do.
So here are the stats to prove my bold assertion:
While buying jeans:
40% is First Impression. Same is true with analylizing a speed date; how appealing is the candidate? A+ = Wowzers. C = Meh. D- = Blech. If the first impression is not favorable, the candidate will never make it to the next step and second consideration.
30% is it a Good Fit? With jeans, I, personally, need a little extra seat room (got a lot of junk in my trunk). Shamu and Shazam also need room to breathe (remember those side saddle beached whales attached to our hips from my OOPS Coty Near-Facts-Of-Science theory? OOPS stands for Obstinate Orca Propogation Site. I named mine Shamu and Shazam and instead of plankton, they’re thriving on a steady diet of M&Ms.) I’m quite sure a possible future mate requires the same consideration for fit and comfort.
10% is the Esteem Factor. How do these jeans make you feel in them – uplifted? Energized? Ready to take on the world? Afraid to move? The same question applies to a guy. And if the answer is the last one, you’d better shuck him quick.
10% is Wear & Care. I made a hard and fast rule 20 years ago that there would be NO MORE dry clean only items in my closet and NO MORE clothing that requires ironing. It’s a good, energy-saving, time-honored rule and I’m sticking to it. For my own good. And it seems to me that when Papa God makes it evident to us that there are certain unhealthy qualities in a fella that we should be restricted from for our own good, we should consider that a hard and fast rule and stick to it.
10% is Longevity. Ask yourself: Are these jeans quality-built? Are they made to last? Or will they begin unraveling at the first washing? In relationships as well as laundry, reckoning day will come, accompanied by tumbling, scrubbing, and repeated rinsing. Will these jeans (or person) withstand the friction of the relationship or fall apart when the going gets tough? Is the stitching (or his foundational faith) strong and resiliant enough to rebound from a little pounding?
So what do you think, my friend? Is there merit to my musing or did I consume a little too much dark chocolate before entering the store’s dressing room? Am I the only one who tries to figure out life while evading the horror of a three-way-mirror? I’d love to hear your thoughts. Hugs!
P.S. I’m happy to report that although the Chinese tariffs are still holding my new books hostage, my revised (three times!) release date for Bless Your Heart is still September 9 and preorders are abundant (thank You, Lord!). I would appreciate you helping spread the word with your friends who like devotionals. Many thanks!