OK Ya’ll,
So I was asked this question last year about this time, and I didn’t really feel like I gave a satisfactory answer. A friend of mine who had recently reconnected with an old flame wanted to know what to get him for Christmas. They’d only been seeing each other again for a few months, and though they had dated in the past, it had been many years since they had parted ways. She wanted to know what I thought would be acceptable gift ideas for a fledgling reconnection. I suggested several things—CD, book, DVD of a favorite movie, cologne—but I feel like when people ask me stuff like that, I never have a good answer. The only thing I really know is what constitutes a bad gift. I have been the recipient of said gifts, and also heard several bad gift stories from friends and in my “ladies light reading” periodicals. So here’s my list of what NOT to get for that certain someone you hope to impress, or anyone that has a vagina.
1. A six-pack of Diet Coke. Yes, I read this in the December issue of one of my aforementioned periodicals. It was a story about the author at 16, hoping her adorable boyfriend would get her something rad like Bonne Belle Lip Smackers in Dr. Pepper flavor and a teensy-weensy diamond chip necklace or some shit, and instead he plops a six pack of Diet Coke in her lap like it’s the friggin’ Taj Mahal of Christmas presents. Because, he said, “he knew how much she loved to drink it.” She was crestfallen to say the least. I felt bad for her to have been in the unfortunate situation of getting such a craptacular gift, but also for the fact that she probably thought he was insinuating that she was fat. Poor girl. I will say when I was 16, I got roses. Classy move, High School Boyfriend.
2. A battery recharging station. This little gem of a story came from my aesthetician, Charmin. She’s a whiz at hair removal and, I suspect, body part removal if things get hairy in the figurative sense as well. She said that the first Christmas she and her husband were together as a married couple, he was beside himself with glee at the prospect of her opening his present. It was rectangular, about 14x6, and felt somewhat heavy. Charm, being the girly girl that she is, had all kinds of wonderful things in mind when holding this Pandora’s box of opportunity, suspecting that it might be something in the way of a jewelry coffret with some sort of glittery bauble inside. She said Hubs kept telling her “it’s for both of us” (or bofus, to use common parlance), inferring that she would be happy and he would get laid. She eagerly ripped the paper off on Christmas morning to come face to face with a BRAND NEEEEEWWWW…Battery recharging station! To say that Hubs was in the doghouse for many, many cold nights to come is an understatement.
3. Anything you’ve already eaten or have no use for yourself. My beautiful and cool Aunt Helen fell victim to myriad ridiculously vomitous gifts Yuletide after Yuletide, courtesy of her drunkard of a mother in law, God rest her soul. See, my aunt was not so popular with Mommy Dearest; and so the acrimony MD felt, coupled with her drunken shopping sprees ending in the consumption of half her purchases, left my poor auntie in the clutches of a dysfunctional round robin of horror. One year, she received a banana hanger along with a half eaten jar of cocktail nuts; another year, a base to a punch bowl, sans the actual bowl. There are a host of other poorly chosen trinkets on this list, but out of respect for the dead, I’ll let the above be a lesson to you all: Don’t drink and gift.
4. Chanel No. 5. Now I know that it may sound silly to complain about something as nice as Chanel No.5, and granted, it is a pricey gift. I mean, even Marilyn Monroe said she wore it, and only it, to bed—which is why I wonder if perhaps JFK, and RFK, and Frank Sinatra, and Arthur Miller, etc. had no olfactory nerves, because that stuff STINKS. One spritz and suddenly you smell like the unwashed underpinnings of an 88 year old European woman. And good luck trying to get it off—I think the only thing that will get that smell off of you is skunk spray. So a word to the wise when choosing perfume (and using someone else’s bathroom)—just because you like the way it smells, doesn’t mean everybody else will. Let THEM choose.
Alright, that's all I've got. Let me know what horrible gifts you've gotten in the past and let's all have a Merry Chrismakwanzakkuh!
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Name, Rank, and Serial Number
OK Ya’ll,
So I have to admit something—I love to watch certain reality shows. And one of those shows is about a bunch of crazy bitches who get together for a “bootcamp” with a professional match maker dude who breaks down to them exactly why they are a bunch of crazy bitches and can’t buy a date. Which got me to thinking, I wonder what this match maker would say to me? On the show, he gives each girl a nickname, the sort of moniker one doesn’t want to be saddled with on national television—ones like, Ms. Desperate and Ms. He’d-Rather-Gnaw-His-Own-Arm-Off-Than-Wake-Up-With-You. So I sat down and analyzed a little bit about myself to see what name would fit. Here’s what I’ve come up with as “characteristics” about my persona:
1.Ms. Nerdy—I LOVE trivia games, and my favorite TV show is Jeopardy. You will be hard pressed to beat me at Trivial Pursuit as I am an overachiever in almost everything I do. I am an academic slut. I have a favorite dinosaur and even know a song about it (the Stegosaurus, if you must know). I am fascinated by science (biological, not chemical), how things work, and used to read the dictionary for fun. I also have the Merriam-Webster word of the day emailed to me, and usually already know the meanings. I love dorky jokes and sci-fi movies, but refuse to dress up like Princess Leia until I drop 20 lbs.
2.Ms. Loudmouth—I am ridiculously loud at times, and love nothing more than a giant, bohunkin’, gut-busting laugh. I have been accused of being too quiet when I first meet people, but only because I am observing before I unleash the madness. I will yell, holler, chortle, and generally make a fool of myself at a volume that is best described as “11.” It’s best not to compete with me unless you truly want to get kicked out for disorderly conduct.
3.Ms. Filthy—I have also been accused of being “the dirtiest person I know” by many people, but it seems to be most shocking to the menfolk. I love an off-color joke, and I know a lot of them, and I usually tell them at the aforementioned volume of “11.” I also tend to think or act in a way that has been described as “like a dude,” which I think means that I am generally unapologetic for my crassness and tend to sneak out of a guy’s house at 4 am after sex. I realize that many people may find this unladylike, or uncouth, and it’s not that I am without my manners. I’m fully capable of putting on the good girl personality and hobnobbing with the high falutin’ crowd. But I also find that life is so much more pruriently enjoyable when you’ve heard my version of The Aristocrats.
4.Ms. Class Clown—I make people laugh, end of story. I don’t care what it takes, I will make an utterly ridiculous spectacle of myself if it gets you to crack a smile. I also tend to have a mean streak a mile wide coupled with a quick wit that gets me in trouble a lot. But even though it might get me fired, or get me permanently kicked out of your house, I guarantee it was funny when I said it. If you don’t laugh at least once when I’m around you, then your laugher is broken. Or you have no brain.
So there you go folks. Those are a few of my most outstanding qualities. I’ll let you decide what my Match Maker Moniker should be. I’m sure everyone’s opinion is different, or perhaps you have a combo for me. Let me know!
So I have to admit something—I love to watch certain reality shows. And one of those shows is about a bunch of crazy bitches who get together for a “bootcamp” with a professional match maker dude who breaks down to them exactly why they are a bunch of crazy bitches and can’t buy a date. Which got me to thinking, I wonder what this match maker would say to me? On the show, he gives each girl a nickname, the sort of moniker one doesn’t want to be saddled with on national television—ones like, Ms. Desperate and Ms. He’d-Rather-Gnaw-His-Own-Arm-Off-Than-Wake-Up-With-You. So I sat down and analyzed a little bit about myself to see what name would fit. Here’s what I’ve come up with as “characteristics” about my persona:
1.Ms. Nerdy—I LOVE trivia games, and my favorite TV show is Jeopardy. You will be hard pressed to beat me at Trivial Pursuit as I am an overachiever in almost everything I do. I am an academic slut. I have a favorite dinosaur and even know a song about it (the Stegosaurus, if you must know). I am fascinated by science (biological, not chemical), how things work, and used to read the dictionary for fun. I also have the Merriam-Webster word of the day emailed to me, and usually already know the meanings. I love dorky jokes and sci-fi movies, but refuse to dress up like Princess Leia until I drop 20 lbs.
2.Ms. Loudmouth—I am ridiculously loud at times, and love nothing more than a giant, bohunkin’, gut-busting laugh. I have been accused of being too quiet when I first meet people, but only because I am observing before I unleash the madness. I will yell, holler, chortle, and generally make a fool of myself at a volume that is best described as “11.” It’s best not to compete with me unless you truly want to get kicked out for disorderly conduct.
3.Ms. Filthy—I have also been accused of being “the dirtiest person I know” by many people, but it seems to be most shocking to the menfolk. I love an off-color joke, and I know a lot of them, and I usually tell them at the aforementioned volume of “11.” I also tend to think or act in a way that has been described as “like a dude,” which I think means that I am generally unapologetic for my crassness and tend to sneak out of a guy’s house at 4 am after sex. I realize that many people may find this unladylike, or uncouth, and it’s not that I am without my manners. I’m fully capable of putting on the good girl personality and hobnobbing with the high falutin’ crowd. But I also find that life is so much more pruriently enjoyable when you’ve heard my version of The Aristocrats.
4.Ms. Class Clown—I make people laugh, end of story. I don’t care what it takes, I will make an utterly ridiculous spectacle of myself if it gets you to crack a smile. I also tend to have a mean streak a mile wide coupled with a quick wit that gets me in trouble a lot. But even though it might get me fired, or get me permanently kicked out of your house, I guarantee it was funny when I said it. If you don’t laugh at least once when I’m around you, then your laugher is broken. Or you have no brain.
So there you go folks. Those are a few of my most outstanding qualities. I’ll let you decide what my Match Maker Moniker should be. I’m sure everyone’s opinion is different, or perhaps you have a combo for me. Let me know!
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Open Up and Say Aahh..
OK Ya’ll,
So it’s been a little bit, but I’m back. The Big E has been a busy girl, doing a world tour of sales knowledge and amazing feats of strength for the people of East Tennessee. While I was traveling the width of the Volunteer State, I got to thinking about a few things, and one of those was K-I-S-S-I-N-G. The long lost are of the smooch is something that I think is one of the most important aspects of a relationship. A bad kiss can ruin your mo faster than anything, and a really good one can turn an “ok guy” into “Holy Shit!” in a total ecumenical about-face. So let me expound upon some of the kissing techniques I find to be the most loathsome of the bunch. You know, so you can be prepared to NOT do these things the next time you go in for the kill.
1.The Jackhammer—This person is of the mindset that if a little action is good, repeated, forceful, thrusting action in your oral cavity is even better. They have not heard the adage “less is more when frenching your friends.” Sometimes this person is so vigorous in their activity that they become The Hummingbird, causing one to feel as though they have been assaulted without even registering what happened because it was all over so quickly. So please, for your safety and the comfort of others, take it slow and take it easy. You do not, however, want to become:
2.The Dead Fish—This person is the polar opposite of the Jackhammer. They feel that exhibiting their affection is best done through the placement of their tongue in your mouth and leaving it there. Their torpor could also be misconstrued as laziness, but in actuality, I believe this person is simply under-informed. Somewhere along the way they have grasped the notion that French kissing is all about putting your tongue in someone’s mouth, but they were absent on day two of the presentation regarding appropriate levels of movement and force. Thus, they employ the Dead Fish, and subsequently remove themselves from your dating pool in one fell swoop.
3.The Python—This poor sap possesses a jaw that becomes unhinged when smooching their partner, and said partner feels that they are, in fact, being consumed by Kaa in the Jungle Book. Sometimes in the heat of passion, one feels the need to kiss a little more deeply or openly, but let’s try not to Hoover someone’s face off, shall we? Not only will it save you a doctor’s visit for TMJ, but it will also instill your date with the confidence that you are not a predatory cannibal with a penchant for herpetology.
4.The Slobberpuss—This fine specimen has salivary glands that work overtime and the product of this hyperactivity usually ends up slathered all over your face. Sometimes the Slobberpuss even enjoys licking their prey to the point of pruniness. My advice to you? Swallow, and swallow often. Do not eat Sour Patch Kids immediately before kissing. And for Pete’s sake, do not let your tongue wander outside of the established parameters of the lips!
5.The Spelunker—This Nightmare on Smooch Street has not mastered the power of retraction. They find that if your tonsils have not been properly polished, then their job has not been completed. Sometimes the Spelunker may just be in possession of an abnormally large tongue and it unintentionally chokes you, or they may just not realize that the mouth is an entryway to the digestive system and thus should be treated like a foyer and not a dining hall. Either way, Gene Simmons called, and he said you’re cramping his style.
Ok peeps! That’s all I’ve got for you. Feel free to leave me your bad kissing stories or reprehensible kissing methods, along with other comments, rants, raves, and questions!
So it’s been a little bit, but I’m back. The Big E has been a busy girl, doing a world tour of sales knowledge and amazing feats of strength for the people of East Tennessee. While I was traveling the width of the Volunteer State, I got to thinking about a few things, and one of those was K-I-S-S-I-N-G. The long lost are of the smooch is something that I think is one of the most important aspects of a relationship. A bad kiss can ruin your mo faster than anything, and a really good one can turn an “ok guy” into “Holy Shit!” in a total ecumenical about-face. So let me expound upon some of the kissing techniques I find to be the most loathsome of the bunch. You know, so you can be prepared to NOT do these things the next time you go in for the kill.
1.The Jackhammer—This person is of the mindset that if a little action is good, repeated, forceful, thrusting action in your oral cavity is even better. They have not heard the adage “less is more when frenching your friends.” Sometimes this person is so vigorous in their activity that they become The Hummingbird, causing one to feel as though they have been assaulted without even registering what happened because it was all over so quickly. So please, for your safety and the comfort of others, take it slow and take it easy. You do not, however, want to become:
2.The Dead Fish—This person is the polar opposite of the Jackhammer. They feel that exhibiting their affection is best done through the placement of their tongue in your mouth and leaving it there. Their torpor could also be misconstrued as laziness, but in actuality, I believe this person is simply under-informed. Somewhere along the way they have grasped the notion that French kissing is all about putting your tongue in someone’s mouth, but they were absent on day two of the presentation regarding appropriate levels of movement and force. Thus, they employ the Dead Fish, and subsequently remove themselves from your dating pool in one fell swoop.
3.The Python—This poor sap possesses a jaw that becomes unhinged when smooching their partner, and said partner feels that they are, in fact, being consumed by Kaa in the Jungle Book. Sometimes in the heat of passion, one feels the need to kiss a little more deeply or openly, but let’s try not to Hoover someone’s face off, shall we? Not only will it save you a doctor’s visit for TMJ, but it will also instill your date with the confidence that you are not a predatory cannibal with a penchant for herpetology.
4.The Slobberpuss—This fine specimen has salivary glands that work overtime and the product of this hyperactivity usually ends up slathered all over your face. Sometimes the Slobberpuss even enjoys licking their prey to the point of pruniness. My advice to you? Swallow, and swallow often. Do not eat Sour Patch Kids immediately before kissing. And for Pete’s sake, do not let your tongue wander outside of the established parameters of the lips!
5.The Spelunker—This Nightmare on Smooch Street has not mastered the power of retraction. They find that if your tonsils have not been properly polished, then their job has not been completed. Sometimes the Spelunker may just be in possession of an abnormally large tongue and it unintentionally chokes you, or they may just not realize that the mouth is an entryway to the digestive system and thus should be treated like a foyer and not a dining hall. Either way, Gene Simmons called, and he said you’re cramping his style.
Ok peeps! That’s all I’ve got for you. Feel free to leave me your bad kissing stories or reprehensible kissing methods, along with other comments, rants, raves, and questions!
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band
OK Ya’ll,
So I’ve been researching a little bit about the subject of loneliness as of late. Everyone knows that there’s a difference between being alone and being lonely, and while it’s nice to be alone (especially when you have a stage 5 clinger on your hands), it’s not all that fun to be lonely. I know a little about both such feelings, seeing as how I live by myself and have ample time to be alone and sometimes that makes me feel lonely. Sometimes it just makes me thankful that all I have to deal with is two cats and a pile of dishes I don’t have to put in the dishwasher if I don’t want to. Anyhoosle, the more I thought about the topic of loneliness, the more I noticed a pattern of behavior that stems from loneliness in most people. Here’s my take on what happens when people stop being polite and start getting real—real lonely, that is:
1.Unplanned pregnancies skyrocket. Loneliness is simply a feeling of isolation and withdrawal from positive human interaction. And what happens when people who want some interaction don’t get it? They go looking for it at the closest establishment that serves up liquor and loosely moral-ed members of the opposite sex. And what does that lead to? Doing it! Doing it under any circumstances, including without the prerequisite blood test and prophylactic devices! And we all know that the result of such interactions is many times a single mom at the PTA meeting with an embarrassing story to tell when it comes around to signing up for the couple’s retreat. I’m not saying it’s wrong to go out and get you some strange when you feel like it, but for Pete’s sake, make sure you’ve got some form of birth control about you when your wits aren’t.
2.Feelings develop unexpectedly. I don’t know how many times I’ve seen it happen—people date someone out of loneliness and nothing better to do and end up mired in a ridiculous situation they would never have gotten into if they hadn’t been so tired of sitting on the couch on a Friday night. Before you convince yourself that Bud ‘just needs some inspiration’ to get a job but is otherwise a great catch despite living in his mother’s basement, try taking a good hard look in the mirror, Sissy. You’re lonely and you’re letting this whole doomed exercise in failure get started because you’re bored. Ask yourself—if I had a whole passel of eligible suitors, would I be looking twice at this dimwit, knuckle-dragging cretin? I doubt it. So get a cat instead—they’re a lot more company, and they don’t ever make you switch the channel to NASCAR when you’re trying to watch an America’s Next Top Model marathon.
3.The plug doesn’t get pulled. I’ve seen this one a lot, too—people let things go on and on and on because they’re afraid of being lonely. So they stay in a galactically stupid dating situation for months, sometimes years, on end. They think that “he/she will come around” or that the person will wake up one day and realize, “hey, I’ve really had an epiphany and I think I’m going to stop sleeping around on you, taking all your money, ignoring your pleas to spend time together, and be an upstanding human being that values your feelings!” Guess what, sweet cheeks? It ain’t happening. Like I always say, GOMO—Get Over it, Move On. There’s nothing left of this relationship but a hollowed out husk of a love story that never should have happened. What’s the worst that can happen? Oh yeah—they get half your stuff and joint custody every other weekend.
4.You show up on an episode of Cheaters. It is possible to be in a relationship and be lonely. Especially if one of the parties is not exactly home all the time or not attentive to the needs of the other. Long distance relationships are breeding grounds for cheating. If you don’t see each other at least once a month, there’s going to be some seriously pent up physical tension going on, and someone’s got to be on the receiving end of it. Let’s face it, you’ve only got two hands, and even that gets boring. So what happens? Sweetykins goes down to the very same establishment we mentioned earlier that serves liquor and loose morals, and comes home 9 months later to tell you something you don’t want to hear. I’m not saying everyone in a long distance relationship that doesn’t see their significant other very often ends up cheating or getting cheated on, but the odds are against you, friend. That said, cheating can occur when both parties are in the same town, in the same house even. If the relationship itself isn’t very solid, if emotional needs aren’t being met, then that can lead to loneliness. And if your honey isn’t getting what they need at home, they can stray. So let’s take a note from that and go home and do something nice for our significant others. Like the adage goes, an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.
That’s it for this week! Send me your rants, raves, comments, and questions!
So I’ve been researching a little bit about the subject of loneliness as of late. Everyone knows that there’s a difference between being alone and being lonely, and while it’s nice to be alone (especially when you have a stage 5 clinger on your hands), it’s not all that fun to be lonely. I know a little about both such feelings, seeing as how I live by myself and have ample time to be alone and sometimes that makes me feel lonely. Sometimes it just makes me thankful that all I have to deal with is two cats and a pile of dishes I don’t have to put in the dishwasher if I don’t want to. Anyhoosle, the more I thought about the topic of loneliness, the more I noticed a pattern of behavior that stems from loneliness in most people. Here’s my take on what happens when people stop being polite and start getting real—real lonely, that is:
1.Unplanned pregnancies skyrocket. Loneliness is simply a feeling of isolation and withdrawal from positive human interaction. And what happens when people who want some interaction don’t get it? They go looking for it at the closest establishment that serves up liquor and loosely moral-ed members of the opposite sex. And what does that lead to? Doing it! Doing it under any circumstances, including without the prerequisite blood test and prophylactic devices! And we all know that the result of such interactions is many times a single mom at the PTA meeting with an embarrassing story to tell when it comes around to signing up for the couple’s retreat. I’m not saying it’s wrong to go out and get you some strange when you feel like it, but for Pete’s sake, make sure you’ve got some form of birth control about you when your wits aren’t.
2.Feelings develop unexpectedly. I don’t know how many times I’ve seen it happen—people date someone out of loneliness and nothing better to do and end up mired in a ridiculous situation they would never have gotten into if they hadn’t been so tired of sitting on the couch on a Friday night. Before you convince yourself that Bud ‘just needs some inspiration’ to get a job but is otherwise a great catch despite living in his mother’s basement, try taking a good hard look in the mirror, Sissy. You’re lonely and you’re letting this whole doomed exercise in failure get started because you’re bored. Ask yourself—if I had a whole passel of eligible suitors, would I be looking twice at this dimwit, knuckle-dragging cretin? I doubt it. So get a cat instead—they’re a lot more company, and they don’t ever make you switch the channel to NASCAR when you’re trying to watch an America’s Next Top Model marathon.
3.The plug doesn’t get pulled. I’ve seen this one a lot, too—people let things go on and on and on because they’re afraid of being lonely. So they stay in a galactically stupid dating situation for months, sometimes years, on end. They think that “he/she will come around” or that the person will wake up one day and realize, “hey, I’ve really had an epiphany and I think I’m going to stop sleeping around on you, taking all your money, ignoring your pleas to spend time together, and be an upstanding human being that values your feelings!” Guess what, sweet cheeks? It ain’t happening. Like I always say, GOMO—Get Over it, Move On. There’s nothing left of this relationship but a hollowed out husk of a love story that never should have happened. What’s the worst that can happen? Oh yeah—they get half your stuff and joint custody every other weekend.
4.You show up on an episode of Cheaters. It is possible to be in a relationship and be lonely. Especially if one of the parties is not exactly home all the time or not attentive to the needs of the other. Long distance relationships are breeding grounds for cheating. If you don’t see each other at least once a month, there’s going to be some seriously pent up physical tension going on, and someone’s got to be on the receiving end of it. Let’s face it, you’ve only got two hands, and even that gets boring. So what happens? Sweetykins goes down to the very same establishment we mentioned earlier that serves liquor and loose morals, and comes home 9 months later to tell you something you don’t want to hear. I’m not saying everyone in a long distance relationship that doesn’t see their significant other very often ends up cheating or getting cheated on, but the odds are against you, friend. That said, cheating can occur when both parties are in the same town, in the same house even. If the relationship itself isn’t very solid, if emotional needs aren’t being met, then that can lead to loneliness. And if your honey isn’t getting what they need at home, they can stray. So let’s take a note from that and go home and do something nice for our significant others. Like the adage goes, an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.
That’s it for this week! Send me your rants, raves, comments, and questions!
Monday, September 21, 2009
Call of The Wild
OK Ya’ll,
So I was at a party this weekend (I know, I’m a party animal!) chatting with a group of friends and one of the hostesses when the subject of communication came up. The hostess, a lady about my mom’s age, mentioned how she and her husband reconnected and finally married years and years after they had first dated. They had been high school sweethearts, gone their separate ways in college, and then got back together at a high school reunion. The hostess lamented the fact that it took them so long to find one another again, but she also indicated that a lack of communication was partly to blame. She talked about the “old days” when you had to put quarters in a communal pay phone in the dorm hall and had to write letters and postcards to keep in touch. I never had to deal with such arcane communication methods, but I did have a little bit of difficulty even in my college days, what with no cell phone and a dorm phone that didn’t have any calling features. So if a boy I really, really liked decided to call me and my roommate was on the phone, it was sorry Charlie. Line busy, call missed, dating life over. I had an answering machine, but a fat lot of good it did when your housing committee-assigned roommate from overseas answered the phone and took a message that was unintelligible at best because she didn’t speak “southern.” But I digress…
What this conversation sparked in my mind was a little question I have asked myself a few times about communication methods and what they mean. These days we’ve got voicemail, texting, caller ID, email, social networking sites…a veritable cornucopia of ways to stalk, be stalked, and ignore people. There’s a scene in the movie “He’s Just Not That Into You” where Drew Barrymore’s character uses every method available to flirt with guys and complains that she’s been dumped through every medium out there, thus making the heartbreak even more painful. Her (ridiculously gay) friends in the office offer her advice, telling her that someone who only talks to her through social networking sites is definitely chasing other tail, etc etc. So that, coupled with the conversation this weekend posits to me the question, what does it mean when someone uses one communication method over another? If someone texts you but doesn’t call you, is it because he/she is not much of a talker but still wants to holla, or is it because they don’t find you chat worthy? If they communicate primarily through a social networking site like Facebook or Twitter, are they avoiding more personal, one on one contact or are they publicly declaring their affinity for your every thought? It’s a conundrum that I had to roll around in my head for a bit before I could really make a decision. I thought about what my communication methods mean, and why I choose one over another. For me, the best method is talking on the phone, but sometimes there’s a progression. It could start via facebook comments, to email, to phone. Or it could go from meeting at a party, to exchanging numbers, texting, then calling. But to me, the very end result, the one that says they officially like you and find you worth the time, is the phone call. Here’s what I’ve come up with to explain the other methods:
1. Texting but not calling: I’ve run into this quite a lot over the past couple of years with a few friends and acquaintances. Some people are more textually active than others, and though I resisted at first, I had to add texting to my phone plan eventually so I could keep in touch with certain friends who it seems would only text me, even if I had called them and left a message saying “call me back.” Other friends have become more textual, as have I, and for the most part I find it a handy method for when you don’t have much to say except “I’m on my way” or “good luck today!” or something relatively simple. My old pal Skip (he of mystery girl body language musings) texted me just last night with the question “do you think anyone has had sex in outer space?” These types of texts are ones I can appreciate, and don’t necessarily require a full conversation. My answer, by the way, was “Captain Kirk.” But what about when you meet somebody you like and want to go out with at some point? I think the answer is this: if they, or you, are using text as a primary communication source, it’s a method of protection—they’re feeling you out and deciding if they want to make the step up to calling. It’s a little less awkward to send a text and not get a response than to call someone and have to leave a message when they don’t answer. You never know what to say when leaving a message, and you don’t sound as stupid in writing. There’s a certain amount of nerves that come with a conversation, but texts help bypass that by letting you think about what you’ll say before you text. And honestly, it’s nerve racking to be the first one to call. You don’t want to let go of the security blanket, and you don’t want to cross the line if they’re still unsure.
2. Social networking sites only: This is the coupe de grace of stalking these days. If you can get a friend request accepted by someone on Facebook, you have access to as much personal info, photographic representation, and social circle commentary as you can handle. When someone “friends” you, and proceeds to comment, it’s sort of like saying, “hey, I like what I see and I wanted to say so.” Think about it—how many people do you friend and then never comment or even look at their page? You only comment on those you like, you know, or you want to get to know. Where it gets tricky is when the other party uses the social networking site as the only means of convo. If they email you on Facebook, then you can only email them back on Facebook if you don’t know their real email address, or see it on their page but don’t want to seem like a freak who’s stalking someone on Facebook, right? So it leads to a sort of false sense of insecurity. You both pretend you don’t see their cell number or other communication method staring at you from their Info tab and let it be because you don’t want to be “that guy/girl” who mistakenly thought someone liked you enough to move on from Facebooking to texting/emailing. And you most certainly don’t want to get burned by number three here:
3. Email/text/Facebook with a denied request to move to the call level: This one is the one I can’t stand the most, probably because it has happened to me before and it hurt my feelings. I was on a dating site and met an eligible bachelor that I thought may be a decent candidate for a free dinner. We emailed through the dating site a couple of times and then made the leap to personal email. I thought the progression was going well, and I felt comfortable enough to offer the digits after a few more days of emailing. The expectation was set that a phone call was imminent that weekend. What happened? An email on Monday morning explaining why he had not called over the weekend. Illness or something like that. So I gave it another shot, opening the call window in a subsequent email. And still nothing but emails. And then nothing at all. The way I figure it, he was chasing other tail, and I had taken the step out there for a premature call request. Ouch. So while I am not a fan of texting/emailing/etc. when I think calling ought to happen, I keep texting/emailing/etc. to keep myself from making a fool of myself.
So there it is folks. Let me know your thoughts, rants, raves, and comments!
So I was at a party this weekend (I know, I’m a party animal!) chatting with a group of friends and one of the hostesses when the subject of communication came up. The hostess, a lady about my mom’s age, mentioned how she and her husband reconnected and finally married years and years after they had first dated. They had been high school sweethearts, gone their separate ways in college, and then got back together at a high school reunion. The hostess lamented the fact that it took them so long to find one another again, but she also indicated that a lack of communication was partly to blame. She talked about the “old days” when you had to put quarters in a communal pay phone in the dorm hall and had to write letters and postcards to keep in touch. I never had to deal with such arcane communication methods, but I did have a little bit of difficulty even in my college days, what with no cell phone and a dorm phone that didn’t have any calling features. So if a boy I really, really liked decided to call me and my roommate was on the phone, it was sorry Charlie. Line busy, call missed, dating life over. I had an answering machine, but a fat lot of good it did when your housing committee-assigned roommate from overseas answered the phone and took a message that was unintelligible at best because she didn’t speak “southern.” But I digress…
What this conversation sparked in my mind was a little question I have asked myself a few times about communication methods and what they mean. These days we’ve got voicemail, texting, caller ID, email, social networking sites…a veritable cornucopia of ways to stalk, be stalked, and ignore people. There’s a scene in the movie “He’s Just Not That Into You” where Drew Barrymore’s character uses every method available to flirt with guys and complains that she’s been dumped through every medium out there, thus making the heartbreak even more painful. Her (ridiculously gay) friends in the office offer her advice, telling her that someone who only talks to her through social networking sites is definitely chasing other tail, etc etc. So that, coupled with the conversation this weekend posits to me the question, what does it mean when someone uses one communication method over another? If someone texts you but doesn’t call you, is it because he/she is not much of a talker but still wants to holla, or is it because they don’t find you chat worthy? If they communicate primarily through a social networking site like Facebook or Twitter, are they avoiding more personal, one on one contact or are they publicly declaring their affinity for your every thought? It’s a conundrum that I had to roll around in my head for a bit before I could really make a decision. I thought about what my communication methods mean, and why I choose one over another. For me, the best method is talking on the phone, but sometimes there’s a progression. It could start via facebook comments, to email, to phone. Or it could go from meeting at a party, to exchanging numbers, texting, then calling. But to me, the very end result, the one that says they officially like you and find you worth the time, is the phone call. Here’s what I’ve come up with to explain the other methods:
1. Texting but not calling: I’ve run into this quite a lot over the past couple of years with a few friends and acquaintances. Some people are more textually active than others, and though I resisted at first, I had to add texting to my phone plan eventually so I could keep in touch with certain friends who it seems would only text me, even if I had called them and left a message saying “call me back.” Other friends have become more textual, as have I, and for the most part I find it a handy method for when you don’t have much to say except “I’m on my way” or “good luck today!” or something relatively simple. My old pal Skip (he of mystery girl body language musings) texted me just last night with the question “do you think anyone has had sex in outer space?” These types of texts are ones I can appreciate, and don’t necessarily require a full conversation. My answer, by the way, was “Captain Kirk.” But what about when you meet somebody you like and want to go out with at some point? I think the answer is this: if they, or you, are using text as a primary communication source, it’s a method of protection—they’re feeling you out and deciding if they want to make the step up to calling. It’s a little less awkward to send a text and not get a response than to call someone and have to leave a message when they don’t answer. You never know what to say when leaving a message, and you don’t sound as stupid in writing. There’s a certain amount of nerves that come with a conversation, but texts help bypass that by letting you think about what you’ll say before you text. And honestly, it’s nerve racking to be the first one to call. You don’t want to let go of the security blanket, and you don’t want to cross the line if they’re still unsure.
2. Social networking sites only: This is the coupe de grace of stalking these days. If you can get a friend request accepted by someone on Facebook, you have access to as much personal info, photographic representation, and social circle commentary as you can handle. When someone “friends” you, and proceeds to comment, it’s sort of like saying, “hey, I like what I see and I wanted to say so.” Think about it—how many people do you friend and then never comment or even look at their page? You only comment on those you like, you know, or you want to get to know. Where it gets tricky is when the other party uses the social networking site as the only means of convo. If they email you on Facebook, then you can only email them back on Facebook if you don’t know their real email address, or see it on their page but don’t want to seem like a freak who’s stalking someone on Facebook, right? So it leads to a sort of false sense of insecurity. You both pretend you don’t see their cell number or other communication method staring at you from their Info tab and let it be because you don’t want to be “that guy/girl” who mistakenly thought someone liked you enough to move on from Facebooking to texting/emailing. And you most certainly don’t want to get burned by number three here:
3. Email/text/Facebook with a denied request to move to the call level: This one is the one I can’t stand the most, probably because it has happened to me before and it hurt my feelings. I was on a dating site and met an eligible bachelor that I thought may be a decent candidate for a free dinner. We emailed through the dating site a couple of times and then made the leap to personal email. I thought the progression was going well, and I felt comfortable enough to offer the digits after a few more days of emailing. The expectation was set that a phone call was imminent that weekend. What happened? An email on Monday morning explaining why he had not called over the weekend. Illness or something like that. So I gave it another shot, opening the call window in a subsequent email. And still nothing but emails. And then nothing at all. The way I figure it, he was chasing other tail, and I had taken the step out there for a premature call request. Ouch. So while I am not a fan of texting/emailing/etc. when I think calling ought to happen, I keep texting/emailing/etc. to keep myself from making a fool of myself.
So there it is folks. Let me know your thoughts, rants, raves, and comments!
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Let Me Hear Your Body Talk
OK Ya’ll,
So I had a conversation recently with a friend of mine, we’ll call him “Skip” for now, who is staking out a lady. This lady is a patron of an establishment that Skip frequents (and by “frequents” I mean I think he secretly lives there) and he’s had his eye on this gal for several months (and by “eye on” I mean he tracks her every move like a hound dog in heat). I don’t blame him, she’s a cute girl, and God knows he needs to get himself a woman. Anyhooser, one night last week this covert operation of his came to a head and he actually had a brief, albeit enlightening, conversation with Mystery Girl. I was not present for said interaction, but he did text me to let me know that the jump had been made; I did what any other friend would do and insisted he call me after he left the bar to discuss in detail. I mean, I do write a blog about relationship issues and what have you, so who better to go over the minutiae of even the smallest of conversations with your intended amour? We broke it down like MC Hammer, analyzing the mannerisms, conversation, company kept, and body language. The funny thing about this whole scientific process, beside the fact that Skip and I are both firmly in the 30 and over category but we talked like two 16 year old girls after the school dance, was that he actually noticed things that I did not think men (well, straight men) were too aware of—specifically, the body language angle. Either he’s been stealing his friend’s Cosmo and reading “How To Subconsciously Trap A Dude” articles, or he’s smarter than I give him credit for. I’m voting for the Cosmo, but it still made me curious. As a woman, I read said Cosmo articles and other media regarding the entrapment of hapless gentlemen, and frankly I find it a little elementary; however, there are people who make their living off of reading body language, so I can’t completely discredit their research. These articles always say things like “don’t cross your arms and legs together—it makes you seem closed off” or “brush your neck with your hand and run your fingers down your arms to subtly show him your secret erogenous zones” or something like that. Personally, I don’t think that kind of body language is all that subtle, and I think it ruins the allure of an interaction if you’re constantly repositioning yourself like a GPS in hopes of drawing attention to the inside of your elbows or whatever. To me, body language is something that should be natural and reactive, and I don’t think it’s hard to tell if someone likes you or doesn’t like you without having to maneuver yourself too much.
But I digress, so back to the lecture at hand. Skip said that MG sat down next to him to have a chat and a smoke (insert anti-smoking propaganda here), and the conversation was good, but her body language was awkward. He said that she crossed her leg away from him, which is an indicator of uncertainty, but her upper body was fairly relaxed, which is a sign of comfort. So you can see his confusion—do you go off the convo alone, or is the body language that he’s unnaturally attuned to an indicator of her feigned interest to procure a cigarette? It gave me pause to go through and consider my own body language for a moment, specifically the leg crossing and it’s strength of schedule. In combination with the crossed arms or hands tucked under the legs, it could indicate a couple of things—disinterest, sure, but also perhaps that you should have brought a sweater because it’s a might bit nippy where you are. I cross my arms not so much to close myself off from someone, but because I’d rather them talk to my face and not my glaringly obvious nipples due to the chill in the room. Without the crossed arms, I’m banking that she just has a preference for one leg over the other when it comes to crossing them. The way you clasp your hands is hereditary—right thumb over left, or left over right—so perhaps you have an affinity for one leg crossed over the other for comfort’s sake. I tend to go left over right most of the time, because I’m a lefty all the way and my right side is only here for cosmetic purposes and balance. I asked another girlfriend of mine, and she said she crosses a particular way to make her legs look more comely and appealing. I even paid particular attention to my leg crossing when meeting a new gentleman for the first time, and I noticed that though my legs were crossed away from him, I liked him quite well. So, Skip, in my estimation, man cannot gauge interest from crossed legs alone. If it were me, I’d enjoy the conversation and hope that she runs her fingers down her arm later.
So I had a conversation recently with a friend of mine, we’ll call him “Skip” for now, who is staking out a lady. This lady is a patron of an establishment that Skip frequents (and by “frequents” I mean I think he secretly lives there) and he’s had his eye on this gal for several months (and by “eye on” I mean he tracks her every move like a hound dog in heat). I don’t blame him, she’s a cute girl, and God knows he needs to get himself a woman. Anyhooser, one night last week this covert operation of his came to a head and he actually had a brief, albeit enlightening, conversation with Mystery Girl. I was not present for said interaction, but he did text me to let me know that the jump had been made; I did what any other friend would do and insisted he call me after he left the bar to discuss in detail. I mean, I do write a blog about relationship issues and what have you, so who better to go over the minutiae of even the smallest of conversations with your intended amour? We broke it down like MC Hammer, analyzing the mannerisms, conversation, company kept, and body language. The funny thing about this whole scientific process, beside the fact that Skip and I are both firmly in the 30 and over category but we talked like two 16 year old girls after the school dance, was that he actually noticed things that I did not think men (well, straight men) were too aware of—specifically, the body language angle. Either he’s been stealing his friend’s Cosmo and reading “How To Subconsciously Trap A Dude” articles, or he’s smarter than I give him credit for. I’m voting for the Cosmo, but it still made me curious. As a woman, I read said Cosmo articles and other media regarding the entrapment of hapless gentlemen, and frankly I find it a little elementary; however, there are people who make their living off of reading body language, so I can’t completely discredit their research. These articles always say things like “don’t cross your arms and legs together—it makes you seem closed off” or “brush your neck with your hand and run your fingers down your arms to subtly show him your secret erogenous zones” or something like that. Personally, I don’t think that kind of body language is all that subtle, and I think it ruins the allure of an interaction if you’re constantly repositioning yourself like a GPS in hopes of drawing attention to the inside of your elbows or whatever. To me, body language is something that should be natural and reactive, and I don’t think it’s hard to tell if someone likes you or doesn’t like you without having to maneuver yourself too much.
But I digress, so back to the lecture at hand. Skip said that MG sat down next to him to have a chat and a smoke (insert anti-smoking propaganda here), and the conversation was good, but her body language was awkward. He said that she crossed her leg away from him, which is an indicator of uncertainty, but her upper body was fairly relaxed, which is a sign of comfort. So you can see his confusion—do you go off the convo alone, or is the body language that he’s unnaturally attuned to an indicator of her feigned interest to procure a cigarette? It gave me pause to go through and consider my own body language for a moment, specifically the leg crossing and it’s strength of schedule. In combination with the crossed arms or hands tucked under the legs, it could indicate a couple of things—disinterest, sure, but also perhaps that you should have brought a sweater because it’s a might bit nippy where you are. I cross my arms not so much to close myself off from someone, but because I’d rather them talk to my face and not my glaringly obvious nipples due to the chill in the room. Without the crossed arms, I’m banking that she just has a preference for one leg over the other when it comes to crossing them. The way you clasp your hands is hereditary—right thumb over left, or left over right—so perhaps you have an affinity for one leg crossed over the other for comfort’s sake. I tend to go left over right most of the time, because I’m a lefty all the way and my right side is only here for cosmetic purposes and balance. I asked another girlfriend of mine, and she said she crosses a particular way to make her legs look more comely and appealing. I even paid particular attention to my leg crossing when meeting a new gentleman for the first time, and I noticed that though my legs were crossed away from him, I liked him quite well. So, Skip, in my estimation, man cannot gauge interest from crossed legs alone. If it were me, I’d enjoy the conversation and hope that she runs her fingers down her arm later.
Monday, August 24, 2009
Don't Dream It's Over
OK Ya’ll,
So I did a quiz on Facebook today that was pretty interesting. It wasn’t so much of a quiz as an extrapolation of my profile data compiled into a statistical representation of how lame my life is, but it was still interesting. This EPD said I had a 90% probability of getting married, which sounds pretty promising at first. But then I got to thinking about it, and a couple of things occurred to me.
1. There’s no time line on this probability, so I figured I’m basically starting at 90 and going downhill rapidly from there. I mean, probability generally decreases over time for these types of events, so if I’m at 90 now, then I can’t help but drop a few percentage points as time marches on. But then I had another thought—maybe my probability wouldn’t drop, because the divorce rate is such that if I wait long enough, I’ve got a shot at a few fellas that may be off the market now. So this could work for me or against me depending on the dissolution of the matrimonial bonds in my area. Let’s hope by the time the divorce rate has evened out my chances, Vince Vaughn is still single.
2. (or maybe one and a half) Since there is no timeline, I could be 70 before this marriage occurs. Not promising. My great aunt Mildred was well into her 50s before she got married FOR THE FIRST TIME. I don’t even want to know if she stuck to her guns and decided to save herself for consummation *shudder* but she did end up marrying her freshly widowed pastor, so who knows. Then again, if I marry someone when I’m 70, they’ll obviously have a fantastic personality because very few people look all that hot at 70 (except Sean Connery), and pretty much nobody is attractive from the neck down at 70. And I’ll probably have had enough stories about bumpin’ uglies by then to get me through the next 15 years or so ‘til I shuffle off this mortal coil, so the personality angle will be that much more of a joy to me in my advanced state. But watch out—if he’s anything like me, we’ll have a ball swindling all of our friends at bingo and shuffleboard after the ice cream social at 4:30.
3. There’s still a 10% probability that I won’t get married. I could end up being the fun, good-looking friend with a killer sense of humor who people secretly think is a lesbian because I’m still single at 95. At first glance it seems depressing, but sometimes I think it may not be so bad. A lot of people just get married to have kids, and since I don’t want any, I’ve got nothing but easy sailin’ ahead. I wouldn’t have to change anybody’s diapers, I wouldn’t have to worry about my husband passing away before me, I could collect as many cats as I want with no one thinking it odd, I wouldn’t have to cut any ingrates out of my will…the possibilities are endless. And hey, if things get too crazy, Congress will send me off to pasture with the warmest of shoves. So I’ll take your 10% and make the best of it. I just need to make sure I don’t marry plenty of wealthy benefactors who insist upon financing the living out of my remaining years in comfort.
So I did a quiz on Facebook today that was pretty interesting. It wasn’t so much of a quiz as an extrapolation of my profile data compiled into a statistical representation of how lame my life is, but it was still interesting. This EPD said I had a 90% probability of getting married, which sounds pretty promising at first. But then I got to thinking about it, and a couple of things occurred to me.
1. There’s no time line on this probability, so I figured I’m basically starting at 90 and going downhill rapidly from there. I mean, probability generally decreases over time for these types of events, so if I’m at 90 now, then I can’t help but drop a few percentage points as time marches on. But then I had another thought—maybe my probability wouldn’t drop, because the divorce rate is such that if I wait long enough, I’ve got a shot at a few fellas that may be off the market now. So this could work for me or against me depending on the dissolution of the matrimonial bonds in my area. Let’s hope by the time the divorce rate has evened out my chances, Vince Vaughn is still single.
2. (or maybe one and a half) Since there is no timeline, I could be 70 before this marriage occurs. Not promising. My great aunt Mildred was well into her 50s before she got married FOR THE FIRST TIME. I don’t even want to know if she stuck to her guns and decided to save herself for consummation *shudder* but she did end up marrying her freshly widowed pastor, so who knows. Then again, if I marry someone when I’m 70, they’ll obviously have a fantastic personality because very few people look all that hot at 70 (except Sean Connery), and pretty much nobody is attractive from the neck down at 70. And I’ll probably have had enough stories about bumpin’ uglies by then to get me through the next 15 years or so ‘til I shuffle off this mortal coil, so the personality angle will be that much more of a joy to me in my advanced state. But watch out—if he’s anything like me, we’ll have a ball swindling all of our friends at bingo and shuffleboard after the ice cream social at 4:30.
3. There’s still a 10% probability that I won’t get married. I could end up being the fun, good-looking friend with a killer sense of humor who people secretly think is a lesbian because I’m still single at 95. At first glance it seems depressing, but sometimes I think it may not be so bad. A lot of people just get married to have kids, and since I don’t want any, I’ve got nothing but easy sailin’ ahead. I wouldn’t have to change anybody’s diapers, I wouldn’t have to worry about my husband passing away before me, I could collect as many cats as I want with no one thinking it odd, I wouldn’t have to cut any ingrates out of my will…the possibilities are endless. And hey, if things get too crazy, Congress will send me off to pasture with the warmest of shoves. So I’ll take your 10% and make the best of it. I just need to make sure I don’t marry plenty of wealthy benefactors who insist upon financing the living out of my remaining years in comfort.
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