Sexy Washers?

I was at the laundry mat last week, and I had to wonder. Where are all the cute guys that allegedly hang out there?

The laundry mat is always depicted in movies and commercials as this cool place to hang out and meet people. Everyone’s attractive, everything’s clean, and the colors are all somehow magically complementary in a hip, retro kind of way. Somehow, everything is sexy and fun. Even the washers.

You know the scenario. We’re both alone, waiting for our laundry to dry. We start to talk, and within a mere half hour, we are folding our underwear across from each other and exchanging saucy banter.

Then there’s reality.

Everything’s wet. The air is muggy and oppressive. The radio is set to some station playing shitty AM gold crap. You look in the vending machine, and there’s dust on everything. It looks like it hasn’t been stocked in several decades. In fact, when you look at the labels, there’s some stuff in there you don’t even recognize, it’s that old.

When you try to play the one arcade game in the place to try and pass some time, you find out the buttons don’t even work, and then it won’t give you you’re money back when you hit coin return. The only things to read are some Watchtower Society pamphlets that some Jehovah’s Witness left there, and some Avon catalogs.

There are no hotties anywhere in sight. Not even close. You look around and here’s what you see:

An old guy reading the paper.

Morbidly obese guy loading a washer and sweating like there’s no tomorrow.

Some guy in his mid thirties wearing a t-shirt with the sleeves cut off and gym shorts. He’s got sweat spots all over his shirt like he just got done working out and couldn’t be bothered to change his shirt on the way over. Gross.

Oh yeah, and the one mom that’s always there with her three or four annoying kids that won’t shut up.


Maybe there is some laundry mat somewhere filled with young, attractive men, but it sure as hell isn’t the one that I go to.