Dating in this day in age is already hard, but factor in my intimidatingly high standards, and it’s near impossible. See, I’ll only ever go home with a guy if he first impresses me with his iridescent breeding plumage, and let me tell you, the men today just aren’t up to par.
Sure, it could be the fact that I only date human men who aren’t really naturally inclined to possess bright and elaborate feathered displays, but I believe that my perfect man will meet and exceed all my standards — which, just to reiterate, means possessing 200 to 300 breathtaking tail feathers and knowing how to flare them just so.
Unfortunately, every guy I’ve gone on a date with in the past year has had lackluster breeding plumage, or worse, no breeding plumage at all.
I know some of you will be like, “Why is the tail feather thing such a deal breaker? Why not just date someone based on their personality?” All I have to say to those people is that these are my standards and so far I’ve failed to be sufficiently impressed by any guy that has come my way.
It doesn’t matter if I come across a guy with whom I have an indescribable, once-in-a-lifetime soul connection — if he doesn’t have vibrant, voluptuous tail feathers to signal his fitness and genetic quality, then why would I start a life with him, let alone go home with him?
If peahens wouldn’t, then why would I?
Did I happen to stumble across such a connection once? Of course! Have I felt like a chunk of my heart has been ripped out of my chest every day since he walked out of my life? Absolutely! Has loneliness and an overwhelming sense of “wrong” colored the 428 days of my life that have passed since I last set eyes on him? Can we please talk about something else?
At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter how I felt about him — my sweet Theodore — as he only ever had three shabby tail feathers, and it was only because h sat down on a sticky pink feathered boa at the bar and left with it hanging off his ass. God, we laughed so hard that night. I wonder if I’ll ever laugh again.
So, please, if you happen to know any guys with an impressive mating dance and a train of feathers that could stop traffic, for the love of God send them my way. Without Theodore, my days have gone gray, and I’m afraid the only cure is to have a blindingly bright array of feathers flared right in front of my eyes. Only then will color reenter my life.
