Dancing on tables is the easiest way to be a social climber

I've been going out this summer. A lot. A lot, a lot. And I've been meeting more people than I can keep track of. Rather than refer to any of them by their God given names, Ally and I tend to refer to them by a defining quality...Irish, Lollapalooza guy, Irish Two, Lawyer, Engineer, Italian, Yale...which gets me thinking. Am I going for PEOPLE, or am I going for a label? It seems everyone I give five minutes of my drunken time to has to have some sort of gimmick to them. I'm no longer excited meeting regular guys. I've become sucked into a world of marketing execs, foreigners, and Ivy Leaguers...

Ladies and gentleman, though I adamantly have always insisted that I pride my own depth, I have become the shallowest of all creatures...I am a social climber. Now standards are normal; no one is suggesting someone should want to date a dude who looks like Carrot Top and acts like Flava Flav (or looks like Flava Flav and acts like Carrot Top, for that matter). But this is far beyond looking for compatibility; lately I'm looking for the hottest, the best story, the newest man fad. When did I go from my quest for the sincere to my quest for C-list celebrity status? (I realized this somewhere in between making out with a banker from Naples, and watching Ally grind on an actual C-list celebrity, by the way).

The best I could come up with is this: I've dated some pretty average Joes, and I don't mean this in a bad way. But I usually date mildly attractive guys, who have typical life goals, and wouldn't stand out in an American Eagle ad. And guess what? They've all fucked me over. So if I'm going to get screwed over somehow, can't it be by the amazingly hot marketing exec for Lollapalooza, instead of the barely post pubescent dude from the frat next door? If I'm going to make out with a stranger, why not a dude with a Yale degree instead of a junior college drop out? If you're never going to get past the shallow make out portion, I don't see a point in not getting a little fucking shallow about your selections.

So I'm going to admit something more indulgent and deadly than a deep fried Snickers bar... being shallow is fun. The people are hotter, the stories are funnier, and the tequila is more plentiful. But I'm well aware that like all fun things, there is a drawback. If I'm spending all my time looking for guys with gimmicks, will I miss it when the average Joe love of my life finally shows up? Because maybe he won't have a six figure job, and maybe he won't have free bottle service at his reserved VIP table...but maybe he'll be perfect for me. And I'll be too busy macking on foreign MMA fighters to notice (I'm dead serious). Even when you're a social climber, it can still get lonely at the top.

At least I don't have to bring money to the bar now,

Ivy