I am not an expert on a multitude of things. I couldn’t tell you what the space time continuum is. I don’t know much about the war or politics for that matter. And if asked to give you the sum of any two numbers quickly, most likely I’d go looking for the calculator on my phone. Of all these things I am deftly aware. But one thing I would like to think myself an expert on is the inner workings of the male psyche. I believe that I have a better understanding of the stranger man standing next to me at the bus stop than I probably do of my own mind. Of this, I am certain.
Don’t let me fool you; this skill hasn’t gotten me any closer to a pass out of singledom. I think it has left me even deeper entrenched in the battlefield of love. I have tricked myself into believing that I am always two steps ahead of my male counterparts. This leads me to overanalyze and pick apart every minute detail of every relationship I have ever come close to maintaining. However, it has also allowed me the opportunity to dispense what I feel, and what my friends assure me is very sound advice. As always you should take everything with a grain of salt. But a few things I have learned:
For most men, looks are secondary.
I know what you are thinking; no they are not Danae because I’ve been at a bar and overheard some douchebag make some derogatory comment about an unfortunate looking girl at the bar. Okay. So yes maybe for that one guy looks are of particular importance. Not everything I say is meant to be a blanket statement. But trust me on this. For every douchebag that only cares about what size your waist is, there are twenty guys who are happy to just be in the presence of a woman. How do I know this? Oh, it’s because I live in the world. And when I walk around said world I see studly men dating and married to some real bombs. Guys are way more interested in a cool girl who will hang out with them, laugh at their jokes, drink beer, take vacations, and understand their affinity for wearing plaid on plaid.
Don’t under any circumstances let go of archaic gender roles.
Okay. So I know I am going to get a lot of flak for this one. The whole “we want to have our cake and eat it too.” Women want the career, the respect and still want the door held for them on the way out the restaurant. Well . . . damn straight we do. You know why? Because no one got laid going dutch. It’s not romantic and it definitely doesn’t make me want to take off my panties for a man. The minute that you as a woman start giving up your right to be treated like a woman, you’ll start being treated like a man. And it feels yucky.
We are all animals, nothing is that complex.
One time I went to a party with the explicit goal of making out with an ex of mine. That’s all I wanted to do, nothing more, nothing less. Now that might not be everyone’s idea of a good time, but I was single and he was single and hey I was bored. So you know what I did to make sure that it happened? I dressed up. Not with my breasts exposed or anything. I just put on a great outfit, did my hair, put on some make-up, a spritz of delicious perfume, and a new pair of pumps. Two hours later I was sucking face outside of a bar with said ex. I barely had to talk to him. Now I’m not saying that men are
