I’ve never experienced a natural disaster until this week in NYC. First, my ass shook like a video ho’s while sitting on my bedroom couch. It was an involuntary booty shake, forced onto my butts jiggle, roundness and stretch marks by an earthquake. Then there was last night, when Hurricane Irene threatened to blow me away, and not in a good way. Luckily, aside from a frightened ass and frizzy hair, I survived.
Still, these tragedies got me to thinking about my single status.
Or maybe it was the “find a cuddle buddy” tweets on Twitter.
I have been single since I broke up with Luke. I have been sexless since before I broke up with Luke. I have been dateless since Raymundo rushed in as quickly and recklesslessly as Irene. They were both bitches with a lot of promise and little follow through. If I do the math, that means I haven’t had a man in 3 months, sex in 5 months (I don’t count my vibrator, thank you very much) and a date in 3.5 months (what can I say, my pepa™ and ovaries want me to move fast!). These numbers and my near death and bad hair experiences are a wake up call! I need a Disaster Ready Boyfriend, much like Floridians need a Hurricane Season Boyfriend. Below is my criteria:
- You must have enough food to feed me, particularly platanos. I don’t know what it is about natural disasters that makes me want mangu every morning.
- You must be good looking enough for me to let you do me. Because not even a life or death experience lowers my standards.
- You must not be afraid of rats as they may rise to the surface if not drowned by the rising water in the sewers (crossing my fingers, toes and pelitos). If they do rise, you must be ready to be eaten alive so I can survive.
- You must have a liquor license to guarantee booze is flowing. I may be strong but don’t let my Aries nature and Dominican resourcefulness fool you. I am a pendeja and will need to be medicated.
- You must be strong enough to lift me over your head for hours in case there is a flood. You’d win extra points (see: more pepa™) if you have wings. If there’s an earthquake, we’ll be safe in the sky!
- Your parents must be deceased, or, if alive, a 10-hour flight away. No need for you to choose who to save. I wouldn’t want you to feel pressured or guilty when you choose me. You’re welcome, Lover.
- You must not have children. Your only fatherly instinct is to make sure I am okay. See above.
- You must be a singer, writer, painter, dancer, comedian, or all in one. You don’t want me to get bored during a natural disaster. That’s where the real danger lies.
If any men fit the above description, I am accepting applications for a Disaster Ready Boyfriend. Please comment below if, and only if, you are ready to fill this role. And no enormous penises welcome. My pepa™ rather not be soar when having to repopulate Earth.