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# GETTING PERSONAL What I don’t want for X-Mas
- URL: https://www.smdp.com/getting-personal-what-i-dont-want-for-x-mas/
- Published: 2007-12-24T16:00:00.000Z
- Updated: 2026-10-25T01:31:56.000Z
- Author: Guest Author
- Tags: Opinion, Santa Monica, #archive-import

*By TAYLOR VAN ARSDALE Special to the Daily Press*

Ah, Christmas … that joyous, giving, philanthropic time of year — people scurrying about, doing last-minute shopping, honking their horns and flipping each other the bird. Try cutting into shopping mall traffic — it’s a melee, with everyman (or woman) for himself (or herself). Yes folks, Christmas seems to bring out the “beast” in people.

Let’s face it, aside from those recent do-gooders in Pennsylvania kindly purchasing the Starbucks order for the person behind them in the drive-thru line (for a scant two hours), this Christmases “Me Generation” is determined to get what they want and I’m no exception. In fact, every year, I make it a point to sit on Old Saint Nick’s lap (no matter my age and collect a tawdry scrapbook photo) and ask him for my heart’s desire, but that portly, red-suited bugger has failed me year after tired year.

This season, I thought I’d give the fat codger a break. Instead of deluging him with a long list of qualities I expect in my ideal mate, I’m providing him a “short list” of those qualities I don’t.

I don’t want a guy who: Is dating around (as in sleeping with everyone in Los Angeles); has a girl-friend (that he’s hiding); is in financial duress; asks me to foot half the bill (the “El Cheapo” category is non-negotiable); changes his story; cheats on his wife; sits around watching TV all day; smokes cigarettes; lies; gives his number out to the meretricious cocktail waitress while we’re on a date (yeah, I saw you hand it to her); becomes rude after a few beers; is rude … until he has a few beers; makes promises he can’t deliver; says he’s going to call but doesn’t; minds if I’m 15 minutes late (get used to it; I like making an entrance) acts like a baby; wants me to diaper him … like a baby; tells me how to drive; needs me to tell him how to drive; pretends he’s not into S&M when he clearly is (yes, requesting I spank you with a switch is typically considered masochistic); begs me to have his child when I’ve only known him two weeks; tells me he loves me on our first date; treats me disrespectfully; treats me respectfully (there’s a fine line here guys; find it); calls me at 9:30 p.m. for a date that same night (as if); lives in his van; lives in someone else’s van; wants to buy a van (you know — anything “van” related is out); needs to have secrets for drama (we’re in L.A.; save the “D-word” for the movies); refers to my buttocks as “them Appaloosas!”; passes wind in public; passes wind in public and feels compelled to make a show of it by lifting and shaking his leg; thinks heroin is a recreational drug; says he’s bigger than he is (this one never ceases to amaze me; I’m going to find out eventually. Did you measure metrically?); texts me pictures of his member (especially when it looks like a gnarly, two-day old pork chop); needs Viagra; needs Viagra but won’t get a prescription for it; has children he’s trying to hide; uses, used, or plans on using crack cocaine; only thinks about sex; never thinks about sex; has a transmission he’s working on … in his living room (yes, I dated this guy, I’m sorry to say); talks about other women he’s “been with”; plays in a crappy cover band; is only doing his (fill in the blank here) until his acting, music or writing gig gets going; listens to Styx; refers to me as “Hey Gurl!”; is a raging alcoholic; thinks I’m a “whore” if I put out on the first date (if that happens, you’re lucky; accept it and grow up); can only have sex in the bathroom; freaks out if I ask him to run out the trash; can’t carry a conversation; only reads the sports section; clips his toenails and leaves the scraps on the floor (Wow, I so do not miss my ex); never flosses; and thinks it’s cool to paint himself team colors at sporting events.

I figure anything leftover Santa can rustle up has got to be acceptable dating material. And Guys, listen carefully here … because this will help you while you’re out looking for women; telling a potential date that you are bi-polar and you refuse to take your meds will send even the least discriminating girl running.

Have a great holiday folks, and remember, when you cut me off in traffic and I give you the New York Hello, all I’m really saying is, “Happy Christmas!”

TAYLOR VAN ARSDALE is a writer/producer and movie reviewer for the Daily Press. She

*Originally published in the Santa Monica Daily Press print edition on December 24, 2007.* [Read the original PDF.](https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/smdp%5Fbackissues/122407.pdf?ref=smdp.com)