I’ve been living in Chelsea for 4 months now. Once a week, hungered by a heady hybrid, my autopilot guides me to the Billy’s cupcake shop on the corner of my block. It’s small and charming: the air, warmed by the removal of naked cupcakes from the oven, tastes heavy and sweet like the inside of a rum distillery; a small, tangible bell tinkles as you open the door, and the staff says hello and means it. The cupcakes are incredible, too. A rolling mountain of cream cheese frosting finishes an undercake so moist that it could teach a women’s masturbation seminar. My favorite is the carrot cake, but I typically buy a box of four which I round out with a banana nutella, a chocolate peanut butter, and a red velvet. For tomorrow. For later tonight. For the walk home.
Four cupcakes. It might seem strange that someone so obsessed with his body would risk losing a knee to diabetes. But I don’t do it for me; I do it for her. And who is she? Why, the friendly neighborhood cupcake girl. I have no idea what her name is. I think I asked her once, but I was so high that the moment she started talking I realized I didn’t care. She’s tall and willowy like a ballet dancer, which I find disconcerting given that she works in a cupcake shop. Does she not sample the wares? How am I to trust her opinion on the cupcakes if she’s either:
A) Not eating them herself (“most customers seem to like the red velvet!”)
B) Eating them and throwing them up (“try the vanilla buttercream. It tastes great in both directions!”)
Still, she has the loveliest face, untouched by the soot and cynicism of Gotham. It’s a bright, open face with a cute nose and smiling eyes. She wears a hat to keep her hair out of the food, as per the NYC restaurant health inspector, so you know she’s disciplined. It casts a slight shadow across her brow but she has learned to tilt her chin up and talk to people from an obtuse angle, which helps. She wears her hair in a braid that falls out of that strange hat hole one finds on the back of adjustable ball caps. I am mesmerized by the ensemble.
I haven’t asked her out, though, and for good reason. I find myself buying crippling quantities of cupcakes to impress her already. Imagine if we were dating, and she were to bring home a box of cupcakes for me every night? Goodbye, beach season. Goodnight, feet. Hello, family history of high blood pressure and heart disease. Welcome, depression, as I watch the tip of my penis disappear under the horizon of my gut like the world’s saddest sunset.
It made me wonder though: what are the best perks a boyfriend can gain from the profession of his girlfriend?
If your girlfriend is a chef, it doesn’t matter if you two never have sex. In fact, you probably won’t want to because you’ll be full all the time from the delicious food she brings home from the restaurant/cooks for you at home. I’m not implying that a chef girlfriend will want to cook for you every night, because if she cooks for a living, she probably wants a break when she comes home. But when someone in the restaurant fucks up a filet by adding one too many twists of pepper? The restaurant has to toss it. Instead of hitting the bottom of the trash bin, my lovely foodsmith tucks it into a napkin and sneaks it home just in time for my midnight snack.
There are so many benefits from dating a doctor/medical student. First, you never have to go see a doctor for non-life threatening issues. Common cold? Syphilis? She’s got you covered, unlike your stupid fucking insurance that has zero doctors in network. Need a quick scrip of xanax or adderal? Bae can hook you up. Miss your flight because you were hungover and want a refund that is only applied if there’s a medical emergency? Boom, she’s writing that doctor’s note. And that doesn’t even begin to cover the sexual possibilities. She understands your body inside and out. Let her explore.
PS- I had a doctor girlfriend once. There’s a reason I can never love again.
3) Works for your team
This was Carrabis’ suggestion. He said he’d rather have free tickets to Red Sox games than a girlfriend who can stitch him up after she beats the shit out of him in a sparring session. If you’re not aware, Jared tends to date women who… can handle themselves. If you know what I mean. A girl who has a pet tarantula. A girl who heads into the woods for a week with only a hunting knife and some flint and tinder. A girl who can explain the nuances of different pass rushing moves because they played OLB on their otherwise-male high school football team. You guys get it.
I’m not a huge sports guy despite being exceptionally good at sports, so this one doesn’t factor as much for me. But I can understand and appreciate the perk.
4) Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Model
Overrated. I know from experience. But still great. The best. Best perks ever.
5) Member of Elite Country/Golf Club
Imagine if you had access to Augusta National or Pine Valley, but didn’t have to pay dues because your girlfriend’s father had that covered? Free rounds of golf a couple times a year at the best courses in the country? Sigh, a boy can dream. Guess I’ll do it the old-fashioned way and play off my own parents’ accounts… thanks for the 38 transfusions dad! Food minimum covers booze, right? lol.
Feel free to send your favorite girlfriend perks!!