OK Y’all,
So there’s this problem I used to have, and I thought I had conquered, or at least calmed it down enough not to drive myself crazy. But it seems that though I have tried, it still comes back to haunt me from time to time despite the fact that I am all too aware that it’s happening. It’s the problem of “expectations,” or more specifically, “high expectations,” aka “getting your hopes up.” I don’t know why I have them anymore, at least not for other people, because years and years and YEARS of experience have taught me that the minute you put even the most infinitesimal expectations on someone, they inevitably let you down. And it’s only getting worse out there, folks. Not only have expectations become the stuff of myth when dealing with dating partners, but it’s seeping into our collective consciousness too. How many times do you say to yourself on a daily basis, “man, does anybody even CARE anymore?” when dealing with the customer service industries? I know! Me, too.
I was pondering this latest bout of Am-I-Really-Crazy-Or-Do-People-Just-SUCK-itude when it occurred to me that my placement of expectations and the lessons learned by subsequent crushing of them happened quite early on in my life. Like kindergarten early. See, I used to be kind of a flirt at age 5. Seriously—I got in trouble more than once for kissing boys on the playground. So it was only natural that I would expect the boys to like me back. When they didn’t, it cut me, it cut me real deep. Two episodes stand out to me more than the others—picture it, Bristol, 1984. A cute-as-a-button Big E dressed in her tailor made finery (complete with tag reading “Made With Love By Mommy” sewn into the back) was out on the playground when she spies a kid named Andy. He’s got something in his chubby hand that he says is a present, and of course Big E thinks it’s for her. He walks toward her, coming closer, closer…and walks right past, to another girl named Amanda. He gives Amanda a ruby ring he had stolen from his mamaw’s jewelry box (hey, this is Bristol we’re talkin’ about here) and Amanda fawns over it with sickening glee. Big E stomps her tiny oxford clad feet and pouts the rest of the day. The next day on the school bus, Big E feels a tap on her shoulder. It’s Jimmy Yarber, her fellow kindergarten classmate. He says to her that he’s brought her something, and produces a gold metal ring with a red plastic jewel perched atop it. He says that he wanted Big E to have her own ruby ring so he got one for her from the chicken egg machine at the grocery store. He spent a whole quarter on it! Big E proudly dons the ring and walks into Mrs. Tauscher’s class feeling like the best girl in the world.
Cut to first grade—Big E is still not only the cutest girl in her class, but naturally the smartest. She gets her work done, always has examples ready to demonstrate for her “letter of the day” presentations, and knows how to bat her eyelashes for an extra Oreo at snack time. Since she’s a good girl, she always gets to go to recess, but not all of the children are as good as her. Especially not a little boy named Wes Combs. Wes is incorrigible and seems to have a hard time staying in his seat, thus causing him to miss recess frequently and have to sit in the classroom and write sentences. One lovely day, Big E comes in during recess to get a kickball or some sort of game equipment from the room. There sits Wes in all his badassery, writing sentences and generally making a mockery of his education. The teacher assigned to watch him has her head down, reading a book. So what does Wes do before Big E goes back outside? He says, “hey, look at this!” and proceeds to show Big E his tiny, 6 year old wiener. Yep, that’s right—indecent exposure. Big E squeals and runs from the room, still scarred by the experience 25 years later. To this day I don’t know his motivation, but I’m 99% positive he probably saw his dad or his older brother do it and thought it was a good idea.
So what lessons did I learn from these early life experiences?
Lesson #1—there are still nice guys out there.
Lesson #2—those guys usually have don’t stay in from recess because they were bad.
Really though, what it taught me is that I can’t expect every guy to like me, and if I do, that’s my fault. Some guys just aren’t that into you, or they have too many hang ups, or all they want to do is show you their dong. And the minute that you get your hopes up that he’ll call, or take you on another date, or generally act like someone you’d want to be seen with in public is the minute that you can throw all that out the window. People are people, and they screw up. If you have your sights set too high, all you’re going to do is drown when it rains. You have to have a healthy dose of realism when it comes to dating. Trying not to expect too much while still keeping your standards where you want them to be is a tough thing, but it’s not impossible. Trust me, I learned the hard way.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Monday, April 26, 2010
Creating the Perfect Storm
OK Y’all,
So I’m going to do a little exercise today, and not of the physical variety (though Lord knows I needed to get on THAT wagon a loooooong time ago). I’m going to indulge myself a little and be creative—all for the sake of l’amour. We all have the requisite “list” of things that we want in a partner; some people have a much longer list than others. So I thought, why not create myself a perfect man, piece by piece, using qualities I find in those men I admire, famous and non-famous? It sounded pretty good, so here we go: The Big E’s Perfect Specimen: Exhibit A.
1. Face: Obviously face is going to be first, because let’s “face” it…you’ve got to want to look at this guy every morning and think, Boy howdy! I am one lucky cowgirl! So I will have to go with Paul Walker. He is soooo pretty. I mean, ridiculously blue eyes, sculpted jaw, and lips like pillows of marshmallow crème—what else could a girl want to look at when heavy breathing is involved? Bradley Cooper would be a close second, and though he has limpid pools of gorgeousness for eyes, he’s a little big in the snout for me, which could potentially hinder proper kissing technique. Paul’s got the perfect face for causing me to melt into my socks. I know a lot of girls wouldn’t want a “pretty” boy, they’d want a rugged man, and honestly I can see that. But like I said, if I’m going to wake up and want to shake my own hand for how well I’ve done, Paul can get it done every time.
2. Body: Paul’s a very good contender for this category as well, but he’s a little lean for me. I’d want someone who’s built well but not too skinny. I’m going to go with Gerard Butler in his 300 days. He looks like a guy who would whoop Batman’s ass and still be able to lift heavy furniture without issue, but would certainly go wing for wing with you at the bar. I like how broad his shoulders are and he’s got a cute bum—perfect for squeezing when congratulating him on a job well done after moving said furniture.
3. Voice: I would want him to talk to me like Matthew McConaughey. I love that Southern drawl that sounds like honey dripping off a graham cracker. He’s got to be a crooner too, and for that, nobody beats Michael Buble. That boy has magic in his larynx; I don’t know why in the world he would ever say regular words when he could sing them all and entrance hoards of women into doing his bidding.
4. Sense of Humor: Hands down, Vince Vaughn. He’s dirty, he’s quick, and he will take it to levels you never considered before, all while you’re struggling to catch your breath from laughing so hard. It takes intelligence to be that fast on the draw, to make impromptu connections and non sequiturs that work perfectly. And I want it. BAD.
5. Intelligence: I’m not going to lie; I like to feel like the smart one, but not the one who’s so much smarter that it’s a struggle to hold a conversation. I don’t want some mook, I want a reasonably smart guy who appreciates my predilection for trivia and craftiness. So I am going to have to go with my pal Big Worm. He’s super smart, and probably the only one I consider to be as smart or possibly even smarter than me. He has a fantastic trivia recall, and like me, can’t stand math. If we were truly smart, we’d probably breed our own race of superhumans, but for now I’ll settle for being intellectual counterparts.
6. Romantic Tendencies: I’m the kind of girl who likes attention, and who likes to feel wanted and needed. I like presents, I like compliments, and I like to be taken care of. I want someone who will share my interests, but still have some of his own. I need just the right amount of mush and thoughtfulness combined with a backbone. For that, I would want someone to treat me the way my Dad treats my Mom. He acts like my Mom absolutely hung the moon and the entire world revolves around her. He wants her to have what she wants and he always tells her how pretty she is and how impressed he is with her, but he isn’t a pussy. I really respect my Dad—he’s a man’s man who loves his woman. Paul-Gerard-Matt-Michael-Vince-Worm has big shoes to fill.
Alrighty y’all! That’s all I’ve got. Hit me up if you have comments!
So I’m going to do a little exercise today, and not of the physical variety (though Lord knows I needed to get on THAT wagon a loooooong time ago). I’m going to indulge myself a little and be creative—all for the sake of l’amour. We all have the requisite “list” of things that we want in a partner; some people have a much longer list than others. So I thought, why not create myself a perfect man, piece by piece, using qualities I find in those men I admire, famous and non-famous? It sounded pretty good, so here we go: The Big E’s Perfect Specimen: Exhibit A.
1. Face: Obviously face is going to be first, because let’s “face” it…you’ve got to want to look at this guy every morning and think, Boy howdy! I am one lucky cowgirl! So I will have to go with Paul Walker. He is soooo pretty. I mean, ridiculously blue eyes, sculpted jaw, and lips like pillows of marshmallow crème—what else could a girl want to look at when heavy breathing is involved? Bradley Cooper would be a close second, and though he has limpid pools of gorgeousness for eyes, he’s a little big in the snout for me, which could potentially hinder proper kissing technique. Paul’s got the perfect face for causing me to melt into my socks. I know a lot of girls wouldn’t want a “pretty” boy, they’d want a rugged man, and honestly I can see that. But like I said, if I’m going to wake up and want to shake my own hand for how well I’ve done, Paul can get it done every time.
2. Body: Paul’s a very good contender for this category as well, but he’s a little lean for me. I’d want someone who’s built well but not too skinny. I’m going to go with Gerard Butler in his 300 days. He looks like a guy who would whoop Batman’s ass and still be able to lift heavy furniture without issue, but would certainly go wing for wing with you at the bar. I like how broad his shoulders are and he’s got a cute bum—perfect for squeezing when congratulating him on a job well done after moving said furniture.
3. Voice: I would want him to talk to me like Matthew McConaughey. I love that Southern drawl that sounds like honey dripping off a graham cracker. He’s got to be a crooner too, and for that, nobody beats Michael Buble. That boy has magic in his larynx; I don’t know why in the world he would ever say regular words when he could sing them all and entrance hoards of women into doing his bidding.
4. Sense of Humor: Hands down, Vince Vaughn. He’s dirty, he’s quick, and he will take it to levels you never considered before, all while you’re struggling to catch your breath from laughing so hard. It takes intelligence to be that fast on the draw, to make impromptu connections and non sequiturs that work perfectly. And I want it. BAD.
5. Intelligence: I’m not going to lie; I like to feel like the smart one, but not the one who’s so much smarter that it’s a struggle to hold a conversation. I don’t want some mook, I want a reasonably smart guy who appreciates my predilection for trivia and craftiness. So I am going to have to go with my pal Big Worm. He’s super smart, and probably the only one I consider to be as smart or possibly even smarter than me. He has a fantastic trivia recall, and like me, can’t stand math. If we were truly smart, we’d probably breed our own race of superhumans, but for now I’ll settle for being intellectual counterparts.
6. Romantic Tendencies: I’m the kind of girl who likes attention, and who likes to feel wanted and needed. I like presents, I like compliments, and I like to be taken care of. I want someone who will share my interests, but still have some of his own. I need just the right amount of mush and thoughtfulness combined with a backbone. For that, I would want someone to treat me the way my Dad treats my Mom. He acts like my Mom absolutely hung the moon and the entire world revolves around her. He wants her to have what she wants and he always tells her how pretty she is and how impressed he is with her, but he isn’t a pussy. I really respect my Dad—he’s a man’s man who loves his woman. Paul-Gerard-Matt-Michael-Vince-Worm has big shoes to fill.
Alrighty y’all! That’s all I’ve got. Hit me up if you have comments!
Friday, April 23, 2010
Wishin' and Hopin'...and Buildin' and Directin'...
OK Y’all,
So I was reading an article today online about a book this lady named Helen Fisher wrote about the 4 “types” of people and how they date. Apparently Helen did some research with a bunch of people looking for love on match.com and translated it all into these biological types that depend on the presence of higher levels of different chemicals in the brain: Explorer, Builder, Director, and Negotiator. If you’d like to read the article, just copy this link: www.yourtango.com/helenfisher. I read through the types and I realized that I am a combo of two of the types: I am a “Builder” and a “Director.” Here’s the article’s description for each and how they tend to date:
“The second type is the Builder, who expresses with serotonin. These people are calm, social, popular, cautious, but not fearful. Very managerial, they're very good at networking, family's very important to them. They're traditional, conventional, often religious.”
“The third type is the Director, expressive of testosterone. They're direct, decisive, tough-minded and often understand music very well because music is very structural. They're competitive, ambitious and very good at spatial relations.”
“The Builder tends to follow rules and schedules, but you've got to take some risks when you're dating. They're also very social and very network-y so they'll take a new date to meet all their friends when the date might just want to spend the night with them.
The Director often thinks dating is a pain in the neck. They want to get to the point. They also make up their mind too fast so in the middle of the date, if they realize this isn't going anywhere for them, they can be very rude. They've got to relax.”
So I think what Helen is trying to tell me is that I am a hard-headed, dirty old man. And really, I’m fine with that. The thing that sort of got me, though, was that basically the article said that any of these types could date any of the others successfully as long as they thought each other were the shizz. I don’t know who wouldn’t think I’m the shizz, but for argument’s sake, let’s take a closer look.
I’m part Builder, so I’m a rule-following, overly cautious social butterfly. Great! I’ll fit right in at the mixer down at the Moose Lodge with all the other virgins in the quilting circle. Then again, I’m part Director, so not only will I compete so viciously with all the other virgins for the last remaining man at the Moose Lodge Mixer that I will completely railroad them all, but when I acquire said man, I’ll find him absolutely abhorrent in the middle of the first date and proceed to point out all his flaws until he cries or runs screaming. And all he really wanted to do was take me home and give me a railroading of his own. Wow. What a future I have ahead of me! I can almost smell the faint stench of desperation that will certainly be oozing off of me in just a few short months of continuing down that path. So what’s a Builder-Director Girl to do? Helen says Relax. I’m just going to keep networking, socializing, and being popular. There’s got to be somebody out there ready to Build and Direct a life with me.
So I was reading an article today online about a book this lady named Helen Fisher wrote about the 4 “types” of people and how they date. Apparently Helen did some research with a bunch of people looking for love on match.com and translated it all into these biological types that depend on the presence of higher levels of different chemicals in the brain: Explorer, Builder, Director, and Negotiator. If you’d like to read the article, just copy this link: www.yourtango.com/helenfisher. I read through the types and I realized that I am a combo of two of the types: I am a “Builder” and a “Director.” Here’s the article’s description for each and how they tend to date:
“The second type is the Builder, who expresses with serotonin. These people are calm, social, popular, cautious, but not fearful. Very managerial, they're very good at networking, family's very important to them. They're traditional, conventional, often religious.”
“The third type is the Director, expressive of testosterone. They're direct, decisive, tough-minded and often understand music very well because music is very structural. They're competitive, ambitious and very good at spatial relations.”
“The Builder tends to follow rules and schedules, but you've got to take some risks when you're dating. They're also very social and very network-y so they'll take a new date to meet all their friends when the date might just want to spend the night with them.
The Director often thinks dating is a pain in the neck. They want to get to the point. They also make up their mind too fast so in the middle of the date, if they realize this isn't going anywhere for them, they can be very rude. They've got to relax.”
So I think what Helen is trying to tell me is that I am a hard-headed, dirty old man. And really, I’m fine with that. The thing that sort of got me, though, was that basically the article said that any of these types could date any of the others successfully as long as they thought each other were the shizz. I don’t know who wouldn’t think I’m the shizz, but for argument’s sake, let’s take a closer look.
I’m part Builder, so I’m a rule-following, overly cautious social butterfly. Great! I’ll fit right in at the mixer down at the Moose Lodge with all the other virgins in the quilting circle. Then again, I’m part Director, so not only will I compete so viciously with all the other virgins for the last remaining man at the Moose Lodge Mixer that I will completely railroad them all, but when I acquire said man, I’ll find him absolutely abhorrent in the middle of the first date and proceed to point out all his flaws until he cries or runs screaming. And all he really wanted to do was take me home and give me a railroading of his own. Wow. What a future I have ahead of me! I can almost smell the faint stench of desperation that will certainly be oozing off of me in just a few short months of continuing down that path. So what’s a Builder-Director Girl to do? Helen says Relax. I’m just going to keep networking, socializing, and being popular. There’s got to be somebody out there ready to Build and Direct a life with me.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Plop Plop, Fizz Fizz...Oh What A Relief It Is!
OK Y’all,
So here recently I’ve been guilty of doing something that I hate when other people do. In fact, it’s happened twice in the last six months. No, it’s not the ‘dine and dash,’ though that is completely tasteless. It’s what I like to call the “Slow Fizzle.” It’s when you go out with somebody, and either you’re not feeling them, or they’re not feeling you, or you’re both not feeling each other (up or otherwise) and you’re both too lazy to call the other one and say “hey Bub, this is kinda bleh. You say tomato, I say potato…let’s call the whole thing off, whaddya say?” So you just don’t do anything, nobody calls anybody, you both go AWOL, and frankly neither one of you is all that put out by it.
Like I said, I really hate it when people do that to me, but I have been a two time offender in recent months.
The first guy seemed to be pretty interesting, and I was actually interested in him. He was cute, and smart, and we had people in common. I thought there may be something that came of it, or at least some fun to be had. But the more we hung out, I noticed that he didn’t seem to be all that wild about me for whatever reason. And the more disinterested and distracted he acted, the less interested I became. I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, but there were too many things getting in the way and I didn’t really have that much invested in the process. I decided to give him one last chance, just to see if maybe I was wrong, or just confused with the signals I was getting, but my gut was right. He was the firework in the 9.99 bundle at Crazy Al’s that just didn’t want to spark, no matter how many times you tried to light it. So I thanked him for our date, got in my car, drove home, and didn’t hear from him for weeks. I sent him a text at one point just to make sure he was in fact still alive, and he was. So I just left it at that. It didn’t really bother me because I felt like I was worth more than a lukewarm response. I’m sure he’s fine. I’m fine. It just fizzled little by little and didn’t end with a bang but a whimper.
The second guy I wasn’t so interested in outwardly, but he had a lot of good qualities on paper. I thought I’d at least give him a shot, and he did impress me in a superficial sort of way. He obviously set out to do his best and he really gave it a nice effort. But I just couldn’t get rid of the nagging feeling that I would always be on the lookout for someone better looking. I really wanted to like him. So what did I do? I gave it the old college try. I argued with myself. I tried to talk myself into it. But when I went out of town for a week and didn’t even give him a second thought, I knew I had to let it go. I know that sounds really, really shallow and awful, and I admit that I am a really, really shallow, awful person sometimes, and even with that admission and realization I still couldn’t get past it. I just couldn’t imagine myself with him 10 years down the road. I’m not saying you have to be Dash Riprock, and I’m not saying I’m Hottie McHotness, but I’ve got to see something in your appearance that I like or it’s just not going to work. It’s a primal instinct. Fortunately for me, I think he took my lack of contact as a hint and he progressively slowed the contact as well. Sure enough, I never heard from him after a brief text exchange one evening. I was a complete coward and never bothered to get in touch with him again either. It all worked out in the wash I guess. I don’t condone the Slow Fizzle, but I suppose now I’m just as guilty as the rest of us who’ve done it. I suppose my sentence is to remain single. Fortunately it’s a sentence I’m used to.
So here recently I’ve been guilty of doing something that I hate when other people do. In fact, it’s happened twice in the last six months. No, it’s not the ‘dine and dash,’ though that is completely tasteless. It’s what I like to call the “Slow Fizzle.” It’s when you go out with somebody, and either you’re not feeling them, or they’re not feeling you, or you’re both not feeling each other (up or otherwise) and you’re both too lazy to call the other one and say “hey Bub, this is kinda bleh. You say tomato, I say potato…let’s call the whole thing off, whaddya say?” So you just don’t do anything, nobody calls anybody, you both go AWOL, and frankly neither one of you is all that put out by it.
Like I said, I really hate it when people do that to me, but I have been a two time offender in recent months.
The first guy seemed to be pretty interesting, and I was actually interested in him. He was cute, and smart, and we had people in common. I thought there may be something that came of it, or at least some fun to be had. But the more we hung out, I noticed that he didn’t seem to be all that wild about me for whatever reason. And the more disinterested and distracted he acted, the less interested I became. I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, but there were too many things getting in the way and I didn’t really have that much invested in the process. I decided to give him one last chance, just to see if maybe I was wrong, or just confused with the signals I was getting, but my gut was right. He was the firework in the 9.99 bundle at Crazy Al’s that just didn’t want to spark, no matter how many times you tried to light it. So I thanked him for our date, got in my car, drove home, and didn’t hear from him for weeks. I sent him a text at one point just to make sure he was in fact still alive, and he was. So I just left it at that. It didn’t really bother me because I felt like I was worth more than a lukewarm response. I’m sure he’s fine. I’m fine. It just fizzled little by little and didn’t end with a bang but a whimper.
The second guy I wasn’t so interested in outwardly, but he had a lot of good qualities on paper. I thought I’d at least give him a shot, and he did impress me in a superficial sort of way. He obviously set out to do his best and he really gave it a nice effort. But I just couldn’t get rid of the nagging feeling that I would always be on the lookout for someone better looking. I really wanted to like him. So what did I do? I gave it the old college try. I argued with myself. I tried to talk myself into it. But when I went out of town for a week and didn’t even give him a second thought, I knew I had to let it go. I know that sounds really, really shallow and awful, and I admit that I am a really, really shallow, awful person sometimes, and even with that admission and realization I still couldn’t get past it. I just couldn’t imagine myself with him 10 years down the road. I’m not saying you have to be Dash Riprock, and I’m not saying I’m Hottie McHotness, but I’ve got to see something in your appearance that I like or it’s just not going to work. It’s a primal instinct. Fortunately for me, I think he took my lack of contact as a hint and he progressively slowed the contact as well. Sure enough, I never heard from him after a brief text exchange one evening. I was a complete coward and never bothered to get in touch with him again either. It all worked out in the wash I guess. I don’t condone the Slow Fizzle, but I suppose now I’m just as guilty as the rest of us who’ve done it. I suppose my sentence is to remain single. Fortunately it’s a sentence I’m used to.
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Learn From My Fail
OK Y’all,
So I was reading my newest ladies magazine the other night and they had a breakdown of different types of guys and how to spot them. It was pretty stereotypical, with the brooding intellectual, the surfer dude, and the well-dressed heartbreaker all making an appearance. Reading those descriptions got me thinking about the men I have known or dated in my own life, and led me to create some descriptions of my own. Here’s what I came up with:
1.The Goodyear Blimp: I call this guy a blimp not because he is fat (though the one I dated was a total chubbo) but because he is full of hot air. This guy talks a good game, but when it comes right down to it, he’s got nothing to show for his peacockery. The guy I dated looked great from the outside—a sports career, nice car, good family, attentive nature. He seemed to be exactly what I was looking for as far as ambition and drive, and presented himself as a hard-working, moral person. I had visions of us making a life together and conquering the world with his business savvy and my creativity. What he turned out to be was a failure at life, relying on his parents for a job, a ride, and a place to live. He had no faith, no self-esteem, and he couldn’t give a compliment if his life depended on it. Unfortunately, it took me 2.5 years of my life to finally be done with him, and the humiliating part was, HE dumped ME. Ridiculous!
2.The Rodeo Clown: This guy is a clown not because he’s funny, but because he makes an ass out of himself from all the drama he gets himself into or chooses to be a part of. He’s a rollercoaster of emotional turmoil, and dating him is much akin to riding a bull and trying to stay on for the whole 8 seconds. You’re trying to follow the dips and bucks, but it’s the most frustrating thing you’ve ever tried to accomplish. Well guess what friends? I’m not Lane Frost, and this guy is no good for you, especially if you’re more into pony rides than steer roping. He’s always pining away over some long lost love, or finding himself embroiled in some latent feelings from a “friend” or some mystery person from the past that only revealed themselves when you decide to go out with him. It’s not as bad as it seems, though, because eventually this guy will recede so far into his cocoon of emotional upheaval that he’ll forget to call or text you for weeks. And surprisingly, it’ll not even occur to you until you sit down to write your next blog.
3.The Wolf: this guy is almost the opposite of the Blimp, because he actually does have the qualities you’re looking for and demonstrates them regularly. You get all comfortable being treated like you’re the best stuff on earth besides Snapple, and suddenly the rug gets pulled out from under you. The sweet, loving, well-mannered guy you were dating turns into a total cad. He stops calling when he says he will, breaks plans or makes them and doesn’t show up, and generally turns into a frat boy at midnight—he’s gone from the Sheep to the Wolf. It may take a little while to figure out the Wolf, as his deceptions begin somewhat innocently, with a little extra time elapsing between calls or dates, accompanied by what seems to be a reasonable excuse. But trust me ladies, the time to wise up is not the time that your friend that lives across the street from him tells you that some girl has a moving truck outside his apartment and is hauling all his furniture out. Just a little warning to prepare yourselves—don’t say I didn’t tell you.
4.The Rick Astley: this guy is never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down…until he does it for the 14th time again this week. This poor guy has all the best intentions, and really does mean well, but he’s overextended himself to the point that having a girlfriend is only a theory and not a scientific fact. He’s working full time, into several hobbies, and has a passel of friends that always want to hang out. It’s easy to see why—he’s got personality in spades and is great at one-liners. But this guy is never going to have the time to really devote to your relationship if you’re even vaguely interested in spending more than 10 minutes with him, while he’s awake, and not working, and…..you get my drift. He tries hard, but he’s got too much going on to really make a relationship work, despite his many promises that he will do better. Do both of yourselves a favor and just let this one go. You can always be friends, but you won’t have to sit around for hours after he said he’d be someplace on Friday night.
Ok folks, that’s all I’ve got this week. Hit me up and let me know what you think—rants, raves, comments, questions!
So I was reading my newest ladies magazine the other night and they had a breakdown of different types of guys and how to spot them. It was pretty stereotypical, with the brooding intellectual, the surfer dude, and the well-dressed heartbreaker all making an appearance. Reading those descriptions got me thinking about the men I have known or dated in my own life, and led me to create some descriptions of my own. Here’s what I came up with:
1.The Goodyear Blimp: I call this guy a blimp not because he is fat (though the one I dated was a total chubbo) but because he is full of hot air. This guy talks a good game, but when it comes right down to it, he’s got nothing to show for his peacockery. The guy I dated looked great from the outside—a sports career, nice car, good family, attentive nature. He seemed to be exactly what I was looking for as far as ambition and drive, and presented himself as a hard-working, moral person. I had visions of us making a life together and conquering the world with his business savvy and my creativity. What he turned out to be was a failure at life, relying on his parents for a job, a ride, and a place to live. He had no faith, no self-esteem, and he couldn’t give a compliment if his life depended on it. Unfortunately, it took me 2.5 years of my life to finally be done with him, and the humiliating part was, HE dumped ME. Ridiculous!
2.The Rodeo Clown: This guy is a clown not because he’s funny, but because he makes an ass out of himself from all the drama he gets himself into or chooses to be a part of. He’s a rollercoaster of emotional turmoil, and dating him is much akin to riding a bull and trying to stay on for the whole 8 seconds. You’re trying to follow the dips and bucks, but it’s the most frustrating thing you’ve ever tried to accomplish. Well guess what friends? I’m not Lane Frost, and this guy is no good for you, especially if you’re more into pony rides than steer roping. He’s always pining away over some long lost love, or finding himself embroiled in some latent feelings from a “friend” or some mystery person from the past that only revealed themselves when you decide to go out with him. It’s not as bad as it seems, though, because eventually this guy will recede so far into his cocoon of emotional upheaval that he’ll forget to call or text you for weeks. And surprisingly, it’ll not even occur to you until you sit down to write your next blog.
3.The Wolf: this guy is almost the opposite of the Blimp, because he actually does have the qualities you’re looking for and demonstrates them regularly. You get all comfortable being treated like you’re the best stuff on earth besides Snapple, and suddenly the rug gets pulled out from under you. The sweet, loving, well-mannered guy you were dating turns into a total cad. He stops calling when he says he will, breaks plans or makes them and doesn’t show up, and generally turns into a frat boy at midnight—he’s gone from the Sheep to the Wolf. It may take a little while to figure out the Wolf, as his deceptions begin somewhat innocently, with a little extra time elapsing between calls or dates, accompanied by what seems to be a reasonable excuse. But trust me ladies, the time to wise up is not the time that your friend that lives across the street from him tells you that some girl has a moving truck outside his apartment and is hauling all his furniture out. Just a little warning to prepare yourselves—don’t say I didn’t tell you.
4.The Rick Astley: this guy is never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down…until he does it for the 14th time again this week. This poor guy has all the best intentions, and really does mean well, but he’s overextended himself to the point that having a girlfriend is only a theory and not a scientific fact. He’s working full time, into several hobbies, and has a passel of friends that always want to hang out. It’s easy to see why—he’s got personality in spades and is great at one-liners. But this guy is never going to have the time to really devote to your relationship if you’re even vaguely interested in spending more than 10 minutes with him, while he’s awake, and not working, and…..you get my drift. He tries hard, but he’s got too much going on to really make a relationship work, despite his many promises that he will do better. Do both of yourselves a favor and just let this one go. You can always be friends, but you won’t have to sit around for hours after he said he’d be someplace on Friday night.
Ok folks, that’s all I’ve got this week. Hit me up and let me know what you think—rants, raves, comments, questions!
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Call 'Em Like You See 'Em
Ok Y’all,
So I was just hanging out at home the other night when I got a text from a friend of mine who asked me an odd question. He wanted to know if girls judge guys on what kind of phone they have. He was a little worried and self conscious because his phone is sort of a POS and he’s too cheap to get another one, but he still wants to present himself in a decent light for the ladyfolk. I thought about it and honestly I could care less what kind of phone someone has, as long as they call me, you know? My friend was relieved, but it got me to thinking about what other little things I, as a woman, really do take into account when sizing up a guy. Granted, none of these things by itself has caused me to not go out with someone, but in the aggregate I believe it says a lot about a person and their tastes and predilections. Here’s what I’ve come up with off the cuff:
1.Shoes. I’m sorry, but if you’re wearing the new Jordans with a pair of dress pants, you are probably A. Nelly or B. sartorially challenged. I’m not saying that you have to wear the best pair of Cole Haans you can get your hands on, but you have to have a little bit of style. Match your shoe type to the outfit at hand, and try to put a little effort into it so you don’t look like a goof. Same goes for pointy shoes. Men who wear pointy shoes run the risk of looking like they might be going on a date with another man, or they’re next in line for the elf tryouts at Santa’s Workshop. They’re a don’t all the way around, and personally I would rather you wore flip flops in the dead of winter than force me to look at those gawd awful brogans.
2.Fingernails. I don’t understand why, when there’s a Walgreens literally on every corner that sells clippers, that guys can’t cut and/or clean under their fingernails. I have dated a few guys who got regular manicures from me, and they were quite grateful for it, but it always confounded me as to why I had to be the one to keep up with the grooming of their phalanges. So, a little hint, fellas—check your nails once in a while. Cut them, and clean them. It takes a couple of minutes that I promise you will give you hours of enjoyment from the opposite sex.
3.Facial hair. This also falls into the grooming category. I personally find many guys very attractive with facial hair. Hell, my dad has had at least a mustache his entire life and I think he’s a handsome dude, but he’s also 62. Certain types of facial hair need to be reviewed before sporting. My thoughts: Guys who are under 50 probably should forego the ‘stache unless accompanied by a goatee. Beards I can deal with, but it has to be a tidy beard, not like a Joaquin Phoenix on crack beard (“Is there a frog on my head?”) or a ZZ Top type thing. Most ladies also don’t want some scraggly, patchy mess that looks like you got into a fight with a hot glue gun and lost. If you can’t grow it like a man, don’t try to go there. Sideburns are totally ok at any age as long as they are more Brandon Walsh than Elvis. There it is—now go out and get you some chin pubes.
4.Voice and diction. Now, I know that people cannot help a lot of what happens during puberty to affect their vocal cords, but it’s getting ridiculous out there and I feel I would be remiss if I didn’t say something. It’s what I call the classic “David Beckham Syndrome”—a good looking dude that chicks drool over until he opens his mouth and sounds like he just sucked down an entire liter of helium. Not sexy! The same rule applies to guys with excessive sibilance—you just end up sounding like you need some of the aforementioned pointy shoes. Think Sean Connery, Harrison Ford, Matthew McConaughey—those dudes have some speaking skills. You want to have a nice, manly timbre with a pleasing accent. I’m not saying Southern isn’t sexy, I’m just saying there’s a difference between Southern and Redneck. I shouldn’t need an interpreter from the Blue Collar Comedy Tour to help decipher what it is you just asked me because you can’t form words properly. In fact, I love me a nice Southern accent (like Mr. McConaughey), especially when he whispers those 4 little words every girl likes to hear—“I’ll pay for dinner.”
Alright peeps, that’s all I got! Let me know your thoughts, opinions, rants, and raves!!
So I was just hanging out at home the other night when I got a text from a friend of mine who asked me an odd question. He wanted to know if girls judge guys on what kind of phone they have. He was a little worried and self conscious because his phone is sort of a POS and he’s too cheap to get another one, but he still wants to present himself in a decent light for the ladyfolk. I thought about it and honestly I could care less what kind of phone someone has, as long as they call me, you know? My friend was relieved, but it got me to thinking about what other little things I, as a woman, really do take into account when sizing up a guy. Granted, none of these things by itself has caused me to not go out with someone, but in the aggregate I believe it says a lot about a person and their tastes and predilections. Here’s what I’ve come up with off the cuff:
1.Shoes. I’m sorry, but if you’re wearing the new Jordans with a pair of dress pants, you are probably A. Nelly or B. sartorially challenged. I’m not saying that you have to wear the best pair of Cole Haans you can get your hands on, but you have to have a little bit of style. Match your shoe type to the outfit at hand, and try to put a little effort into it so you don’t look like a goof. Same goes for pointy shoes. Men who wear pointy shoes run the risk of looking like they might be going on a date with another man, or they’re next in line for the elf tryouts at Santa’s Workshop. They’re a don’t all the way around, and personally I would rather you wore flip flops in the dead of winter than force me to look at those gawd awful brogans.
2.Fingernails. I don’t understand why, when there’s a Walgreens literally on every corner that sells clippers, that guys can’t cut and/or clean under their fingernails. I have dated a few guys who got regular manicures from me, and they were quite grateful for it, but it always confounded me as to why I had to be the one to keep up with the grooming of their phalanges. So, a little hint, fellas—check your nails once in a while. Cut them, and clean them. It takes a couple of minutes that I promise you will give you hours of enjoyment from the opposite sex.
3.Facial hair. This also falls into the grooming category. I personally find many guys very attractive with facial hair. Hell, my dad has had at least a mustache his entire life and I think he’s a handsome dude, but he’s also 62. Certain types of facial hair need to be reviewed before sporting. My thoughts: Guys who are under 50 probably should forego the ‘stache unless accompanied by a goatee. Beards I can deal with, but it has to be a tidy beard, not like a Joaquin Phoenix on crack beard (“Is there a frog on my head?”) or a ZZ Top type thing. Most ladies also don’t want some scraggly, patchy mess that looks like you got into a fight with a hot glue gun and lost. If you can’t grow it like a man, don’t try to go there. Sideburns are totally ok at any age as long as they are more Brandon Walsh than Elvis. There it is—now go out and get you some chin pubes.
4.Voice and diction. Now, I know that people cannot help a lot of what happens during puberty to affect their vocal cords, but it’s getting ridiculous out there and I feel I would be remiss if I didn’t say something. It’s what I call the classic “David Beckham Syndrome”—a good looking dude that chicks drool over until he opens his mouth and sounds like he just sucked down an entire liter of helium. Not sexy! The same rule applies to guys with excessive sibilance—you just end up sounding like you need some of the aforementioned pointy shoes. Think Sean Connery, Harrison Ford, Matthew McConaughey—those dudes have some speaking skills. You want to have a nice, manly timbre with a pleasing accent. I’m not saying Southern isn’t sexy, I’m just saying there’s a difference between Southern and Redneck. I shouldn’t need an interpreter from the Blue Collar Comedy Tour to help decipher what it is you just asked me because you can’t form words properly. In fact, I love me a nice Southern accent (like Mr. McConaughey), especially when he whispers those 4 little words every girl likes to hear—“I’ll pay for dinner.”
Alright peeps, that’s all I got! Let me know your thoughts, opinions, rants, and raves!!
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Keep On Truckin'
Ok Y’all,
So it’s a new year and I think we can all agree that now’s as good a time as any to make some dating resolutions. It only makes sense that whilst I attempt to overhaul my diet and exercise regimen that I overhaul my outlook on wooing and being wooed by the opposite sex. Here’s what I’ve come up with:
Resolution #1: I will not date out of boredom. There have been a few times in my life where I’ve been in a bit of a dating lull, and to combat the lull, I have made questionable dating choices out of sheer ennui. Now that’s not to say that my dates were not decent people, or that they did not put forth effort, just that I was not quite in the frame of mind to be working toward anything but a good time, or the person I was going out with had a few deal breakers that I knew were not going to be acceptable over the long-term. And you and I both know that can sometimes cause hurt feelings, especially when the person you are going out with is genuinely interested in you but you are not so interested in them. Obviously, being honest about your intentions for the date up front is preferable, but who’s going to want to take you anywhere if you blurt out, “Hey, dudarino, I’m only going out with you because, even though you are ridiculously wrong for me, I couldn’t stand another night of Golden Girls reruns and stale pizza”? I’ll take NOBODY for $500, Alex. But hey, if you’re both bored and just want to hang out with no expectations, then by all means, friends.
Resolution #2: I will not settle for less than I deserve. I have been in several dating situations that were also less than ideal because converse to Resolution #1, I was the one who was more into the relationship. And it ended up causing me some heartache because I went over and above to prove myself to someone who couldn’t have given a shit less. I tend to be that person—trying to prove that I am helpful, fun, smart, whatever. And no one should have to work that hard. As a woman, I want a man who is going to be excited to see me and spend time with me, flattered to have me on his arm at a restaurant/theater/honky tonk/beer pong tournament, and totally pumped at the prospect that my lips might somehow touch his—just because I am me. I want to feel wanted, beautiful, and skinny. And this year I am not going to settle for someone who does not treat me thus.
Resolution #3: I will be honest, but tactful. This one is probably going to be the hardest one for me to keep, because if you’ve met me or even read the last couple of posts, I’m not exactly Nancy Niceness. I tend to err on the side of being blunt with a side of “WTF did she just say to me?!?!” and it gets me in trouble. When I think back on some of the things I have said to boyfriends past, I cringe. And I know in my heart that if they had said those things to me, I would have punched them squarely in the wedding tackle. So this year, I’m going to be my creative best in crafting the harsh words I’m thinking into fluffy pillows of constructive feedback. Will I fail on occasion? Abso-frickin’-lutely. But I’m going to pick myself up and try again, after I apologize profusely and go buy some new lingerie.
Alright, give me your dating resolutions, rants, raves, and comments! Happy new year and happy dating!
So it’s a new year and I think we can all agree that now’s as good a time as any to make some dating resolutions. It only makes sense that whilst I attempt to overhaul my diet and exercise regimen that I overhaul my outlook on wooing and being wooed by the opposite sex. Here’s what I’ve come up with:
Resolution #1: I will not date out of boredom. There have been a few times in my life where I’ve been in a bit of a dating lull, and to combat the lull, I have made questionable dating choices out of sheer ennui. Now that’s not to say that my dates were not decent people, or that they did not put forth effort, just that I was not quite in the frame of mind to be working toward anything but a good time, or the person I was going out with had a few deal breakers that I knew were not going to be acceptable over the long-term. And you and I both know that can sometimes cause hurt feelings, especially when the person you are going out with is genuinely interested in you but you are not so interested in them. Obviously, being honest about your intentions for the date up front is preferable, but who’s going to want to take you anywhere if you blurt out, “Hey, dudarino, I’m only going out with you because, even though you are ridiculously wrong for me, I couldn’t stand another night of Golden Girls reruns and stale pizza”? I’ll take NOBODY for $500, Alex. But hey, if you’re both bored and just want to hang out with no expectations, then by all means, friends.
Resolution #2: I will not settle for less than I deserve. I have been in several dating situations that were also less than ideal because converse to Resolution #1, I was the one who was more into the relationship. And it ended up causing me some heartache because I went over and above to prove myself to someone who couldn’t have given a shit less. I tend to be that person—trying to prove that I am helpful, fun, smart, whatever. And no one should have to work that hard. As a woman, I want a man who is going to be excited to see me and spend time with me, flattered to have me on his arm at a restaurant/theater/honky tonk/beer pong tournament, and totally pumped at the prospect that my lips might somehow touch his—just because I am me. I want to feel wanted, beautiful, and skinny. And this year I am not going to settle for someone who does not treat me thus.
Resolution #3: I will be honest, but tactful. This one is probably going to be the hardest one for me to keep, because if you’ve met me or even read the last couple of posts, I’m not exactly Nancy Niceness. I tend to err on the side of being blunt with a side of “WTF did she just say to me?!?!” and it gets me in trouble. When I think back on some of the things I have said to boyfriends past, I cringe. And I know in my heart that if they had said those things to me, I would have punched them squarely in the wedding tackle. So this year, I’m going to be my creative best in crafting the harsh words I’m thinking into fluffy pillows of constructive feedback. Will I fail on occasion? Abso-frickin’-lutely. But I’m going to pick myself up and try again, after I apologize profusely and go buy some new lingerie.
Alright, give me your dating resolutions, rants, raves, and comments! Happy new year and happy dating!
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