Are you a Teddy Wayne?
The Election’s Most Personal Attack Ad
St. Louis
TEDDY WAYNE sure talks a good game. But how is he on the issues — specifically, my issues with him as a boyfriend?
Teddy Wayne promises he’ll call you that night. He promises to be a better listener. He promises to let you hold the remote.
Ladies, aren’t these the same broken promises we’ve been hearing from guys since high school?
Teddy Wayne claims he’s concerned about my health care. But when I got the flu, he dropped off a can of chicken soup and then cut and ran, saying he didn’t want to “risk getting sick when I’m swamped at work.”
Teddy Wayne professes to have a reputation as quite the “swing-stater,” but during his term as my boyfriend he has proven again and again that he kisses like a seventh grader.
And how’s his record?
Teddy Wayne voted no on Proposition “Let’s go somewhere romantic when you have time off in September,” under the pretense that there weren’t the financial resources for it.
But just one week later he passed his friend Randy’s “Dude, let’s hit up Atlantic City tonight” grassroots initiative and spent as much as a weekend at a Vermont B&B would have cost. Is this the kind of fiscal responsibility you want in your boyfriend?
Let’s ask a few women who know Teddy Wayne what they think of him:
MICHELLE F. Things started off nice — $50-a-plate dinners, love speeches, the works. But once I committed, he became the worst lame duck ever, carrying through his real agenda of doing whatever he wanted, always pardoning his awful friends. What a Dukakis.
CAMERON M. That guy? Ugh. He would not leave me and my friends alone on Saturday. At the bar, he kept saying we were “babes” and we should pose for “photo ops” with him kissing us. Later, I saw him drunk-dialing all the girls in his cell — or, as he called them, his “constituents.”
JULIE B. Impeach Wayne!
Ladies, I need a new direction for the men I date. No more singles-bar insiders. Not another out-of-control spender whenever it’s my turn to pay for dinner who then exorbitantly taxes my patience by rambling on about how his boss doesn’t appreciate him.
I want my own Obama, a boyfriend who shows he cares about my livelihood by sincerely asking how my day was, who will look to diplomacy first and not get violently jealous when the deli guy innocently winks at me, who’s willing to share his feelings without first watching “Field of Dreams” — even though I’ll probably soon get bored because he’s a little too nice and harmless and is exactly the sort of guy my mother would vote for me.
This Election Day, join me in showing Teddy Wayne the door. But first I have to make sure there isn’t a Knicks game on, or he won’t even notice.
I’m Teddy Wayne’s girlfriend, and I approve this message.
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