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January 28, 2008

dog jobs

I didn't achieve self-awareness until a female friend recently professed her affection for a fire fighter. That's when my bias kicked in. "But they're all dogs!" I said.

I do not, of course, know this. I only suspect it. Without exception, every fireman I've known has been a narcissistic cheater—all they did, all day every day, was work out and place booty calls. And apparently I've come to hold this against an entire profession. Firemen will always bottom my list of Guys I Don't Want My Friends to Even Know, Let Alone Date. Their similar freedom from supervision have made me skeptical of stay-at-home dads and realtors, as well. And several other professions have earned their way on to my radar.

Cops. Two kinds of people become cops: altruists and assholes. I have no problem with the former. My friends have only brought home the latter. My favorite was the guy who serially pulled over cute co-eds. His idea of a meet-cute. Charming.

Physical therapists. Where some guys are creeped out by male gynecologists, I'm creeped out by male PTs. This comes from my having dated two female PTs. Familiarity definitely bred contempt. About their male counterparts, both women reported a culture of scheming, preening creeps who, at best, boasted about feeling up their female patients and who, at worst, boasted about screwing them. Bonus demerits for the cadaver-penis sword fights staged in college.

Anything at Microsoft. Nothing good can come from this. True story: when I hired one of my students, Darcy, I told her "If you date a guy from Microsoft, you're fired." And I meant it. Having long since had my soul sucked out by these people, I'll be damned if I'm responsible for Darcy's intellectual, emotional and spiritual destruction, as well.

Bartenders. I don't actually have any data to substantiate this. This profession is just packed with so much potential for sexual conquest, I can't ignore it. If I were a creep, this is exactly how I would make my living.

posted by john at 7:31 AM  â€¢  permalink