Tag Archives: what women want

Here’s The Thing About Men

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So I had a crush.  A big one.  I remember, it was third grade… and it was bad.

To keep things easy and confidential we’ll call him Norm.  Not to imply, by any means, that this young lad was normal… because he was not. This is also not to imply that he was anything special… because he was not.  Norm was just, Norm.  And I liked him.

One crisp, autumn afternoon, during a cut throat game of tag, Norm snuck up behind me and pulled my hair.  Actually, Norm is a horrible name.  Let’s call him Johnny.  So Johnny pulled my hair. Of course, my auto-retaliation response to such an attack was to thrust him face-first into a spinning merry-go-round.  Years later, I would realize that in third grade, when a boy throws a grasshopper at you or pulls your hair, they are not a threat to your very safety. They might just want to take you on a date to the sandbox.

My apologies, Norm.

Needless to say, this incident was a dual-sided foreshadowing.  It was a glimpse, if you will, of the plethora of not-so-normal chaps that I would find myself becoming unexplainably attracted to in the future.  Also, it would be the first in a very lengthy succession of realizations of this kind.  When I say “of this kind” I mean, precisely, those of the opposite sex.

Me:  Johnny hates me, I can just tell.  UGH, I like him so muuuuuuuuuuch.

Friend:  Why do you think he hates you?

Me: He pulled my hair and threw dirt at me.

Friend:  So, he pulled your hair AND threw dirt?  Well, he likes you then.

Me: Huh?  What kind of shoddy way of flirting is that?

Friend: I know for a fact that he does, cus he told Sammy he liked you.  So now you have to tell him you like him.  Or better yet, write him a note.

Me: Mmm.  I don’t know.  Sounds kind of risky.  I mean, I still think you’re waaaay off on this whole flirting thing.

Friend:  Trust me.

Me: Well, what if I go to tell him and then I chicken out?  Or my lips go numb? Or I lose the ability to speak?  Or I suddenly have a seizure? Or if I write the note, what if I go to hand it to him and the teacher intercepts it?  Or what if he gets it and doesn’t like me? Or what if he shows it to all the other boys and I become the laughing stock of the world?  Or what if …

And right there, a lifetime of over-analyzation began.

I guess I’ve been as confused by men over the years as they have been by me.  And let me tell you, I’m pretty confusing.  I make absolutely zero sense. I might go as far as to say that I make negative sense. If you’ve read this blog for more than one day, you need no further explanation on that point.   The problem with women is not finding what we want, the issue is knowing what we want in the first place.  And as soon as we think we know… DING, DING, DING…try again you poor ignorant soul!

OTHER POSTS YOU’RE GONNA LUUURVE:

What Women Really Want

Why I Hate Women: Oh Let Me Count The Ways

So You’re Telling Me That You’re Not MARRIED?!

A Boy, Not Yet A Woman

What Women Really Want

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Come on in.  Pop open a cold one (non-alcoholic, of course, cus I need you to keep it classy and focus on what I’m saying).  Grab all your friends and sit Indian style on the mat.  Please don’t be concerned if you can’t sit Indian style, the more important problem is, why don’t you have any friends?   Men, I especially want you to listen up.  Hurricane honesty is about to blow you away.   Sorry Mary, there’s no spoonful of sugar with this Robitussin.  Just the cold,  green, mystery flavor your mother used to shovel down your throat.  So let’s recap what we already know:

1. We want you to be nice. But not too nice, Nicey McCallaghan.

2. We want you to pay attention to us. But watch it, Smothery McFerguson.

3. We want you to give us our way. But only half the time, Doormat McPushoverPants.

Alright, so now that I’ve given you a month to digest that very scientific and logical information, we can move on to Part II:

christina-aguilera-and-husband4.  We want you to be funny. But not a comedian with a complex that has to make a joke out of everything or he has no self-worth because he used to get beaten up at the bus stop or something.  Got that?  If you can’t make us bust a gut, then it’s OVER, Snoresville McGee.  You know how you always get perplexed when you see a fine lookin lady with an awkward geek who is unfortunate looking?  Well that’s cus she just dumped her rich, gorgeous underwear model for the guy who works the late shift at Taco Bell because he cracked a joke when he handed over her Chalupa.   Yea.  I never said these were smart decisions.  But they are what we choose, nonetheless.

5. We want you to be manly. But over the years it seems that you’ve taken this to mean stubbly and un-showered with a beer belly?  No, no.  Just because you shower, shave regularly, and don’t wear brown shoes with black pants it doesn’t mean that you’re not a man.  P.S.  it won’t KILL you to do a face mask or a pore strip once in a while.  You’ll still be allowed to shoot people on Call of Duty.

6. We want you to be romantic. The problem is, you’ve taken this idea of “romance” and twisted it into a pretzel of ungodliness.  It’s downright scary, what you’ve done.  I think the underlying roses-with-babies-breathproblem is somewhere along the line there was a glitch in the matrix and you guys got terribly confused by the term: romantic.

I’ll tell you what it doesn’t mean: red roses with baby’s breath (and perhaps a fern), heart-shaped pendant necklaces (actually, heart-shaped anything), stuffed animals with mushy sayings, “gamble chocolates” with mystery fillings, or an attempt at writing us poetry.  [[Sigh]]   So really, the bottom line here is creativity.  So maybe we should rephrase this to say – we want you to be creative.

Can I get a witness ladies?

Remember it.  Write it down.  Fold it up.  Tuck it in your jockstrap.  And have a more successful life.

You’re welcome.