After years of subjecting yourself to crappy collegiate light beer of the Natty, Busch, or Keystone variety, it’s normal to start drinking something that’s a little bit more refined. In fact, most of us graduate our tastes during our post-college years, and whether it’s to a beer that doesn’t taste like water or a cocktail that is mixed with something more exotic than Gatorade, it’s completely fine. But when you take it to the next level, requesting a specific number of lemons or limes to garnish your otherwise perfectly-acceptable order, you may think you’re just being a little OCD or that you just know what you want and it’s not a big deal. We say it’s a red flag.
The typical girl who requests three limes in her drink is ordering a vodka soda or a vodka tonic, which could probably be a red flag all in itself if that’s the only thing she drinks. After all, it is the drink that one defaults to when thinking “I want to drink as much as possible without feeling full”, which can also be restated as “I want to get just sloppy enough to enjoy myself with minimal hangover and maximum calorie-saving”. Well-intentioned, but still a red flag.
If we have to order your “Greygoose & soda with three lemons”, we’d like to congratulate you for so successfully making us feel like complete assholes. Normally that’s something that takes at least one or two dates to accomplish, but you’ve managed to reach this highly-coveted objective with one simple drink order. Unfortunately, our feeling like assholes may not work to your advantage this time and it’ll start with the bartender’s “are you fucking serious?” look of disgust and continue with his sarcastic “good luck with that…” head nod of pity.
Not only is it embarrassing, it’s also an indicator that ordering food and drinks with you will put us through excruciating frustration, and enough internal eye-rolling to make us dizzy. We cringe at the possibility of having to actually go home with the girl who holds up the line at Starbucks when she changes her order from a Grande two-pump-skinny-vanilla latte to a Grande two-pump-skinny-iced-vanilla latte with 8 ice cubes, assuming of course that they are full-sized cubes. And we’d really rather eat dinner at home than have to order our normal-person meal after you spent 10 minutes inquiring as to the exact whereabouts of the farm where your side vegetables had grown, the name of the farmer who picked them (he better be white), and the physical proof that these vegetables did indeed receive 24/7 surveillance to save them from all those horrible chemicals and those dirty, yucky bugs.
What’s worse is when you start applying your strict my-way-or-the-highway standards to us. We wouldn’t be surprised if you try to change us into your ideal guy, altering our appearance to fit an image that’s fixed in your mind. You’ll complain when we get home from work and don’t place our coat on a hanger in the closet within 5 seconds of our arrival; you’ll yell at us for incorrectly stacking the groceries in the fridge and for storing the frying pan on the wrong side of the saucepan; and we can kiss all that morning sex goodbye because any interruption in your bed-to-shower-to-coffee-to-Today Show routine would obviously be an inconvenience. Before we know it, we’ll be rocking a bro-hawk while wearing three-buttoned Henley shirts that you say look “so hot” on Adam Levine; we’ll freeze our asses off in the heart of the winter because we’d rather go without a jacket than to deal with being reprimanded every time we walk in the door; and we’ll be forced to investigate other more “convenient” options to satisfy our sexual desires.
Just consider yourself lucky if we stop at masturbation.Tweet