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!
Monday, April 26, 2010
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!
Thursday, December 10, 2009
It's The Thought That Counts
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!
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!
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