Once upon a time, dating started to suck in my 30's. Perhaps, I need a break. I can tell you this much, it wears me out. However, I have come to learn a few things. Men will tell you what they want, but in all fairness, it's not what they really want.
Let's review the "leaving things at some one's house."
The Woman's View:
I am pretty sure we are all thrilled if something were to get left at our house, even if by accident (although we can analyze that wasn't an accident). I think it shows, security and stability. The easy tell tale sign is, hey this guy likes me and will be coming back. All of this, we can determine by a t-shirt left or perhaps even as little as a toothbrush.
The Guy's View: (true story)
My BFF Mr. Pacman told his now live in girlfriend, NEVER to leave anything at his house. He said, "don't leave any shampoo or just a toothbrush." I am guessing that means they feel trapped if something gets left.
Next item on review: "I want a smart, independent girl"
The Woman's View:
We are pretty happy if we are viewed as smart and often times stable. We think this will make us more attractive to the opposite sex. We are easy to handle and low maintenance.
SIDEBAR: This is a TOTAL HORSE SHIT!
The Guy's View:
They want the damsel in distress. If you don't believe me, talk to the guys I work with. All of them married one and all of them are miserable. SIDEBAR: I am grinning as I write this. The girl that can't change a tire or can't pay the rent, so they can swoop in and rescue them and pay for it all. *By the way, if you find this guy, definitely send him my way* That way, they can exchange those types of good deeds for others. You know what I am saying. It's all part of their master plan. They don't want you to be smarter than them, that is blasphemy. This also goes along at beating their ass at air hockey or other such games, video games included. I am just saying.
EXAMPLE OF THE DAMSEL:
Earlier this year in a cold tundra, I saw the damsel in distress in full effect. There was a blizzard here in Texas and if you live here you will remember it was right around the Super Bowl. So, this lady who worked for me, her name was Petunia was terrified of the snow. Of course she was. So one day it was snowing pretty good. She went out to the warehouse and asked one of male employees to come and wipe the snow off her windshield. I swear to you. As I live and breathe!!! I thought I was going to come unglued. As soon as she pulled out of the parking lot with her clear windshield, I went outside. I pulled out the most awesome snow window scraper in all the land. My dad got me one on a business trip via the rental car he had. I brushed off my window, and the other 2 girls in the office and the 2 guys in the warehouse out of being just plain annoyed that she couldn't just use her mitten like any other normal human being. That is the day I knew I wasn't the damsel.
REVELATION / EXCEPTION TO THE RULE:
Now back to the story at hand. I got a little side-tracked with the damsel in distress story, but it had to be told. Now, I did meet a fabulous woman who broke this horrid trend of men only like the damsel in distress. It must have been magic or destiny. I am still trying to repeat her very story only in my own life. Her name is Ms Chuck Taylor. Before she met her beau (who happens to be awesome and younger, and will never get fat - EVER), she was a successful editor in Hollywood. Her life happens to be fascinating if you ever hear a chapter of it. She is smart, worked hard, and made so much money she could make it rain. She met this man on a website, how it turned out as good as it has is beyond me. He is also smart and hard working. I am pretty sure he might be the only one left and sadly because I am such good friends with Ms. Chuck Taylor, stealing him would be a deal breaker and could end in my death. I am pretty sure it would end in the streets ala kickboxing style and with awesome sound effects.
Next time on review: "You aren't my type, I prefer brunettes"
LONG SIDEBAR:
Let me just say, if I had $100.00 for every time I heard that line, I would have $200.00. Yes, I have heard it twice, but what I am is saying is that I also have a type. A type that I think is ideal that I happen to never date. Now my dad said blonde's are the most beautiful and of course he is right, but if Niche ruled the world, I would be here and these schmuck men who said they preferred a brunette would not. It's not my fault I am a fair maiden and it's not my fault I drank enough milk as a kid so I could be a Sasquatch. I am healthy and I have good skin, so suck it!
A Woman's View:
I should probably change my hair color because then he will like me and we can live happily ever after. Now mind you this is the accommodating woman speaking. I, on the other hand, like who I am. The End. Now I am not saying I haven't had brown hair. There was the breakup of 2008 where I went all Carrie Bradshaw circa Sex in the City Movie 1 where I was heart broken and the only way to feel better was to transform myself into someone I didn't recognize in the mirror. It worked and my mom hated it.
My BFF Mr. Pacman told his now live in girlfriend, NEVER to leave anything at his house. He said, "don't leave any shampoo or just a toothbrush." I am guessing that means they feel trapped if something gets left.
Next item on review: "I want a smart, independent girl"
The Woman's View:
We are pretty happy if we are viewed as smart and often times stable. We think this will make us more attractive to the opposite sex. We are easy to handle and low maintenance.
SIDEBAR: This is a TOTAL HORSE SHIT!
The Guy's View:
They want the damsel in distress. If you don't believe me, talk to the guys I work with. All of them married one and all of them are miserable. SIDEBAR: I am grinning as I write this. The girl that can't change a tire or can't pay the rent, so they can swoop in and rescue them and pay for it all. *By the way, if you find this guy, definitely send him my way* That way, they can exchange those types of good deeds for others. You know what I am saying. It's all part of their master plan. They don't want you to be smarter than them, that is blasphemy. This also goes along at beating their ass at air hockey or other such games, video games included. I am just saying.
EXAMPLE OF THE DAMSEL:
Earlier this year in a cold tundra, I saw the damsel in distress in full effect. There was a blizzard here in Texas and if you live here you will remember it was right around the Super Bowl. So, this lady who worked for me, her name was Petunia was terrified of the snow. Of course she was. So one day it was snowing pretty good. She went out to the warehouse and asked one of male employees to come and wipe the snow off her windshield. I swear to you. As I live and breathe!!! I thought I was going to come unglued. As soon as she pulled out of the parking lot with her clear windshield, I went outside. I pulled out the most awesome snow window scraper in all the land. My dad got me one on a business trip via the rental car he had. I brushed off my window, and the other 2 girls in the office and the 2 guys in the warehouse out of being just plain annoyed that she couldn't just use her mitten like any other normal human being. That is the day I knew I wasn't the damsel.
REVELATION / EXCEPTION TO THE RULE:
Now back to the story at hand. I got a little side-tracked with the damsel in distress story, but it had to be told. Now, I did meet a fabulous woman who broke this horrid trend of men only like the damsel in distress. It must have been magic or destiny. I am still trying to repeat her very story only in my own life. Her name is Ms Chuck Taylor. Before she met her beau (who happens to be awesome and younger, and will never get fat - EVER), she was a successful editor in Hollywood. Her life happens to be fascinating if you ever hear a chapter of it. She is smart, worked hard, and made so much money she could make it rain. She met this man on a website, how it turned out as good as it has is beyond me. He is also smart and hard working. I am pretty sure he might be the only one left and sadly because I am such good friends with Ms. Chuck Taylor, stealing him would be a deal breaker and could end in my death. I am pretty sure it would end in the streets ala kickboxing style and with awesome sound effects.
Next time on review: "You aren't my type, I prefer brunettes"
LONG SIDEBAR:
Let me just say, if I had $100.00 for every time I heard that line, I would have $200.00. Yes, I have heard it twice, but what I am is saying is that I also have a type. A type that I think is ideal that I happen to never date. Now my dad said blonde's are the most beautiful and of course he is right, but if Niche ruled the world, I would be here and these schmuck men who said they preferred a brunette would not. It's not my fault I am a fair maiden and it's not my fault I drank enough milk as a kid so I could be a Sasquatch. I am healthy and I have good skin, so suck it!
A Woman's View:
I should probably change my hair color because then he will like me and we can live happily ever after. Now mind you this is the accommodating woman speaking. I, on the other hand, like who I am. The End. Now I am not saying I haven't had brown hair. There was the breakup of 2008 where I went all Carrie Bradshaw circa Sex in the City Movie 1 where I was heart broken and the only way to feel better was to transform myself into someone I didn't recognize in the mirror. It worked and my mom hated it.
The Guy's View:
I am all powerful, and now that she is a brunette, I think I really do prefer blonde's. Followed by the line of, "can we just be friends?" Which I will mention is the kiss of death.
The moral to this story is that men are picky too. They say they aren't, but that is also HORSE SHIT. Someone fabulous could be on their door step and until someone whacked them in the head with a wiffle ball bat, they wouldn't know it.
I have been told I am picky, but guess what, so are men!
The End.
I am all powerful, and now that she is a brunette, I think I really do prefer blonde's. Followed by the line of, "can we just be friends?" Which I will mention is the kiss of death.
The moral to this story is that men are picky too. They say they aren't, but that is also HORSE SHIT. Someone fabulous could be on their door step and until someone whacked them in the head with a wiffle ball bat, they wouldn't know it.
I have been told I am picky, but guess what, so are men!
The End.
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