Once upon a time, an average American family gave birth to a beautiful baby girl. The parents loved her and cherished her more than anything else in the world. They spoiled her and gave her only the best of everything. They never wanted their precious child to be without anything she desired, and so she grew up always expecting the best.
Things began to change for their bouncing baby girl on her first day of school. She refused to color with crayons that weren’t perfectly sharp. She wouldn’t play on the playground for fear of dirtying her tiny Jimmy Choos, and she certainly wouldn’t eat anything that had been frozen and reheated in their school cafeteria. The other kids noticed and began to tease her. “Is ANYTHING good enough for you, Little Miss Picky Pants?” they taunted.
Being picky isn’t so bad, she thought. She decided she liked the nickname so much that she took it for herself and refused to be called by any other name. She took picky as a compliment, because it meant that she never settled. Upon taking her new name, Little Miss Picky Pants vowed never to settle for anything ever again.
Once she began to own her identity, she got a lot of respect. All of the girls wanted to be her, and after the boys stopped assuming she had cooties, they all began flirting with her. Picky Pants had spent her entire pampered childhood scoffing at processed food, clothes manufactured in China, non-organically grown vegetables, and 2% milk, so when the boys started to give her valentines and store-bought chocolates, Picky Pants giggled her perfect little giggle and threw them in the trash, laughing all the way out the door.
As Picky Pants grew from a girl into a woman, her suitors grew from boys into men. They asked her to movies, dances, and dinners, but there was something wrong with each and every one of them. Mark’s nose was too wide, Josh ate red meat, and Parker was ONLY four inches taller than she was when she was wearing her highest heels. Picky Pants knew she was designed for greatness, so why should she be subjected to the company of someone who was obviously beneath her? Each man she encountered had obvious flaws, so she sent each and every one of them on their way.
Picky Pants was never bothered by her love life. After all, she’d spent her entire existence being the most fabulous person she’d ever known, so it was wildly unlikely she’d find a male carbon copy just as exquisite as she was…until she did.
His name was Phillip, and he was everything. The only prior experience Picky Pants had had with physical perfection was when she passed a reflective surface, so she was completely floored when she noticed Phillip’s tall, toned, and muscular physique. Like every other perfect thing in her life, Picky Pants knew she had to have him. She fluffed her hair with her perfectly manicured nails and walked up Phillip, batting her extraordinarily long lashes.
Picky Pants walked up to Phillip, assuming he’d bend over backwards for her like every other male had in the past. As she began flirting, Phillip held up his hand. “Picky Pants, what are you doing? No offense, doll, but I could never be interested in a girl like you.” Picky Pants’ face went from shock, to rage, to horror as she realized what had just happened. Too embarrassed to be seen in public, Picky Pants ran away in humiliation. When she finally made it home, she threw herself onto her bed (as all embodiments of perfection do to console themselves) in tears. She couldn’t understand why her less fabulous friends were all happy and lucky in romance while she, the most fabulous person on the planet, had just been rejected.
Picky Pants’ parents were startled by her outburst, and her mother cautiously entered her room to find her daughter sobbing. She coaxed the story out of her daughter while stroking her hair. Once Picky Pants had finished her story, her mother did what all mothers do best (after nagging, of course). She gave advice.
“Oh darling. Don’t you see? You’ve just been so picky about so many things. How could Phillip stand it if you rejected him like you had everyone else? I’m afraid the pickiness in your love life has scared away suitors. Wouldn’t you be scared to date you too? You know I think you’re perfect, darling, but I believe Phillip knew he would have been picked apart just like the others. Not everyone can be as picky as you are, dear. There are only a select few that can compare — of course I’m talking about your gays. Have you any?”
She hadn’t. Being the good little girl that she was, she followed her mother’s advice and promptly found a gay to call her own. Picky Pants soon discovered how wonderful it was to have someone around who was just as picky and judgmental as she was. He would laugh with her about the idea of poly-blend fabrics and constantly tell her just how skinny she looked. The two adored each other. They’d walk around, hand-in-hand, sipping venti skinny extra-hot no-foam lattes, wondering how they’d waited so long to find each other and indulge in gossip, fashion — anything, really, except calories.
It was strange at first to Picky Pants when her gay BFF started to tell her about his love life. There were so many possibilities, and they were all so different. Picky Pants couldn’t understand it! Her gay was just as picky as she was! Shouldn’t he be focused on finding the one man who is a sheer image of perfection? When watching her BFF run through his list of potential suitors, she noticed the sparkle in his eye and the way his voice sped up in excitement when he mentioned Joe with his perfect Steve Maddens, John who had the same favorite Miley song as he did, or Alex who knew exactly when to wear a Burberry scarf. She realized then that maybe she could still be picky about high-fructose corn syrup while being slightly less picky in the dating world.
Picky Pants decided to try out this world of dating. At first, it was hard to ignore the traits she’d previously shuddered at — ears that were too large, hands that were too small, or hair that couldn’t decide if it wanted to be blonde or brunette — but she finally discovered that she could easily overlook those traits to have someone with whom she could hold hands, go on dates, and furiously make out while drunk on the dance floor. Of course, she maintained some non-negotiable factors (like an extraordinarily large wallet), but overall, Picky Pants learned to have a great time in the dating world. She kept the name Picky Pants, because she still wasn’t a basic bitch, but it was largely just an inside joke with her best friends. When she realized that the only way to have a perfect life was to stop hopelessly seeking perfection, Picky Pants was able to let loose in a way she never had before. She enjoyed a great many years sharing time with her many boyfriends, before she finally used her talents to zero in on the boy that was best for her.
And so, Picky Pants, her (almost) perfect man, and her gay best friend all lived happily ever after.