I think it’s time we changed the rules on dating, or at least the order. Hell, even women who buy sperm get comfort in knowing their anonymous spunk has been genetically tested. So why is it that the rest of us schleps are forced to interact, to date people, then go on to blindly marry into a bullshit family? By the time we realize what kind of extended family we’re up against, that silly thing called “love” gets in the way and before we know it, we’re marrying into it. For a civilized society, we’re sure going about things in an ass-backwards way.
Here’s what I think we should do. If you see someone and you think you might like him/her someday, put the brakes on immediately. Then, go look up that person’s family – parents, siblings, cousins, grandparents, you name it. Date the family for 6 months and if you’re still cool with that end, circle back and start up a real relationship with your person.
It sounds ludicrous, but if you really, really think about it, you’ll realize it’s ingenious. I’m sure if most of us realized what kind of nutcase families our significant others had prior to getting emotionally involved, we never would have returned their calls in the first place. Would I like to go on a second date, Cousin of Lurch? I don’t think so!
From my own personal experience, if I had known that the one guy I dated had a retarded sister whose daily goal was to not shit herself, or the schmuck with the crazy mom who howled at the moon, or another guy with the schizo uncle who ate toilet paper, or that other dude whose mother’s “claim to fame” was simply the fact she gave birth to 7 kids (oh sure, she was missing teeth, had a bad dye job and one kid dragged her leg ~ but who cares about that stuff?), I would have seriously reconsidered getting involved with any of them in the first place. I mean, aside from the potential that I could have ended up being legally bound by default to any of those families, there’s a genetic concern to consider for my future spawn. I don’t need to give birth to some cretin child who eats paperclips and shoves forks into electrical outlets all because its dad comes from a long-enough line of weak-ass, mutated genes.
Now don’t get me wrong: I’m not saying I’m a diamond mine of material when it comes to DNA. As you’ve read in previous blogs, I used to shit all over the place when I was a kid and I befriended bike tires. It’s amazing I haven’t died in a freak flossing accident up this point. But all in all, I’d say I’m generally okay and that my family is fairly ‘normal,’ at least in a FOX sitcom sense. We might have a few drunks scattered around, but no serious mental problems or delusions.
I guess my point is that I simply want all information up front. I’ll be providing the cookie batter and the dude will be contributing the chocolate chips… and it’s just so hard to tell nowadays that with my luck he’ll give me raisins. And let me tell ya, nothing pisses me off more than when I bite into a chocolate chip cookie and find out it’s a raisin one instead. Which is why meeting the family before emotions get involved should be the proper way to do it. If I see that the dude’s family has a large number of grapes throughout, then I’ll haul ass out of there and go get a sandwich. That saves everyone time, energy, and (especially) money on presents throughout the year.
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