I do this all the time. I start a post, then never finish it. I always get distracted by something. Or someone. Why is that? I mean, its not that I don't love to write, because clearly I do. And, Lord knows I have time [or did, at least]. I know, it sounds stupid, but I am one of those people that spends hours psycho-analyzing everything. Especially myself. Like, why do I drink from two straws? Or why do I hate red roses? [Two stories for another day].
So after spending months trying to figure out why I stopped writing [it would've been alot easier to just pick up a pen], I've got it. I love pleasing other people more than myself. Don't get me wrong, I'm not claiming to be even remotely Saintly, but I believe that to be my best quality, and my downfall. Whenever I find someone [a guy] to please, I make him my number one focus. Sure, its really therapeutic to sort out my own head on paper [or blog], but how much does that count when I can be out there making someone else smile. Does this make me weak? Does it make me a weak person for needing to make another person happy in order to find my own happiness? I've always wondered that.
Everyone I know puts a great deal of focus on finding their own happiness and living their own lives before letting another person in. Don't get me wrong, I think thats great for everyone, but when did society become so jaded that solidarity is the way to go? Having a fantastic career is awesome, but is it really that rewarding when at the end of the day, you are alone? It's easy to surround yourself with good friends and drunken memories, but everyone has one person that they can share everything with. When did it become bad to want to share your life with another person? As far as I've been told, the more guarded you are, the smarter you are perceived as.
Maybe I'm stupid, but I refuse to give up on the romantic notion of finding another person with my views. Maybe it'll be tomorrow, or maybe he was an abortion, but I believe that all my dumb, weak personality traits will pay off one day. I want a career, so that I can build a home. I want to travel so that I can share the world. Most of all, I want to be sincere so that I never regret a day in my life, even the tough ones.
At the end of the day, its all about appearances. I find that we are much like children. We still play pretend more than any other game. When you're sad, pretend to be happy. When you're vulnerable, pretend to be strong. And when you want something really badly dear readers, pretend you don't want it at all. Maybe, if you pretend hard enough, it'll become reality.
One day, my prince charming will show up on his valiant steed and remind me that I'm not crazy. I just hope that we can stop pretending long enough to notice each other.
Do you.
XOXO,
Gouda
P.s Shout out to my blog-sisters, I don't care if I see you guys everyday, GET TO WRITING.
Friday, February 4, 2011
Monday, November 1, 2010
Extraordinary and Ordinary
"I must learn to love the fool in me- the one who feels too much, talks too much, takes too many chances, wins sometimes and loses often, lacks self-control, loves and hates, hurts and gets hurt, promises and breaks promises, laughs and cries."--Theodore Isaac Rubin
So I have had this theory for a long time that there are some ordinary people, perfectly nice and whatever else but kind of just blah, and some extraordinary people, you know the ones who make your day a little more interesting just by being in it, good or bad. I have often looked at couples, my cousin and her husband for one example, and been a little confused. Yeah, there is nothing WRONG with him; he’s not a drunk or a cheater or mean at all. But, we all were a little disappointed at her wedding. Because, she’s an extraordinary person. She’s the kind of person who can light up a room with her smile. She graduated from BC. She was captain of the swim team. She can funnel a beer better than anyone I know. She’s extraordinary. And, not that this is a bad thing persay, he’s just pretty ordinary.
Now, maybe my cousin and her husband are an exception, since they’re still married and have a baby and are perfectly happy, but, I don’t think extraordinary people and ordinary people can stay together. Maybe the extraordinary person realizes that the person they’re with just doesn’t make their heart pound like it should. However, more often than not, the ordinary person gets a little overconfident, or intimidated by all this extraordinariness (good or bad, again), and breaks it off, whatever “it” is.
The worst part is when this ordinary person immediately finds another seemingly ordinary person to be with or flirt with or what have you. The extraordinary person finds him or herself distraught, comparing every feature or personality trait with this person, coming to a dumbfounding conclusion— by every normal standard, they are better than the ordinary person. And this is because, simply put, they are.
It is a mystery of life why this ordinary person doesn’t realize how awesome the extraordinary person is. However, all I can say is that all of my very close friends are EXTRAORDINARY in every, single sense of the word. So if this happens to you, please don’t fret or compare. The sad truth is that you were just too extraordinary to handle.
xoxo,
j
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
The Best Dating Advice I've Ever Gotten
“The only thing to do with good advice is to pass it on. It is never of any use to oneself.”
- Oscar Wilde
Now, I could never, ever take credit for the brilliance I am about to disseminate to you. My cousin Kerin, now age 29 and happily married for the last 2 years to an AMAZING guy, offered this to me months ago when I had a particularly rough falling out with a guy I was very much into. I hope we can all learn to take Kerin's advice... it's pretty ground breaking.
It goes like this: in the world of dating, everyone falls into a bracket. The top bracket is like . . . supermodels, and then then we all fall into a subsequent bracket after that. Now: beyond looks, things like musical talent, or being funny, or being smart, etc., can move you up a bracket. That's why models always date ugly musicians, b/c the musical talent moves them up into their bracket. (Likewise, even if you're in a high bracket, if you're say . . . an *sshole . . . you get bumped down a bracket).
The rule is: NEVER date outside your bracket, or you set yourself up for heartbreak. And, I can tell from the pictures I'm seeing on facebook, that this boy from the beginning of the semester was a bracket below you. (Clearly!) You might think that while it makes sense that dating someone in the bracket above you sets you up for heartache (the hottest guys are generally not-so-nice), the bracket underneath you is safe territory. But you're wrong!!! The bracket under you is the worst one of all, because those boys will get a major self esteem boost from dating you . . . AND a major self esteem boost from breaking up with you. (Because if you can DUMP a person in the bracket above you, you feel like you're better than them, thereby boosting your bracket standings.)
Anyway: Long story short: Always date someone as hot as you are. And: this guy's new girlfriend clearly IS in his bracket (though her personality may put her one below him, which means he will eventually get his heart broken horribly), so they deserve each other.
Hope you enjoyed Kerin's wise words! Go build your bracket!
love,
Jane
Monday, July 19, 2010
Pretty Little Liars
Hello dear readers,
I've missed you. The past few weeks have been really crazy. I am officially back in my college town and am all moved in with a new apartment and a new roommate. It feels like a fresh start and I couldn't be happier. My apartment is the cutest thing on the planet, and my roommate has quickly graduated from being a friend to a sister.
Do not for a second believe that this good news means my life has taken a turn toward normal town. No, no. In fact, I have a few stories to share.
This first story is currently the most salient in my thoughts because it is the most recent (and shocking. And hilarious). Get this, readers. I, Gouda have now secured myself a reputation as some sort of crazy, sexually-frustrated rapist.
Hold the phone. Before you run off and inform your towns beefiest police officer about my escapades, listen to my side of the story.
I will preface this by saying that this past weekend was both fantastic and awful for different reasons. My friend L from high school was visiting and it was great catching up with her. We used to be extremely close and have drifted in recent years. This weekend changed that.
The bad part of my weekend occurred when I suddenly became every drunk person's Mom. Yes, you read right. Gouda, the girl that gets lost on five minute walks in her neighborhood and leaves the gas oven on every night BY ACCIDENT, had to play Momma Bear.
On Friday we all got super dressed up and cute. I even went as far as to wear extremely uncomfortable heels. My feet are still bleeding. It was going to be a good night, I could tell. I should've known better. I have the instincts of a goldfish. The night actually wasn't that horrible from what I remember. By the end of the night, L found herself somewhat intrigued by a lovely young man, named V. Ironically, V is close friends with someone named D that I had previously found myself attracted to. A whole group of us headed back to hang out at V's apartment, which also happened to be where D was staying [or so I thought].
On our way back, we ran into someone throwing up on a bridge. This young man had too much to drink and I didn't feel comfortable leaving him alone, seeing as I have somewhat of a medical background and a marshmallow heart. So, I urged L to continue on her trek with the rest of the group and decided to walk our puking princess home. Of course, he lived a few blocks out of the way, but I figured I'd rather make sure he was okay than step over his rotting corpse the next day while on my daily walk. I walked my new best friend home and made my way back to V's apartment. Apparently tequila brings out my inner Mother Theresa.
When I arrived, I thought that maybe the night would start looking up. I expected D to be there and thought that maybe, just MAYBE I could get to know him better. [A little background info: I just met D and for some reason or another, find him interesting. That being said, he definitely has a lot going on in his life and I'm not sure if the timing is right. That, and I barely know the kid. Every time we hang out, alcohol makes an appearance.] Boy, was I wrong. L and V disappeared for a little bit. From what I hear, they had a heated debate about politics and then went on to play some pretty hardcore chess.
So there I was, sitting in the living room with people I barely knew. I refused to abandon L in a town she didn't know, when she was my guest, and in the process, turned into that awkward friend that sits in the corner while her much hotter friend has a grand time. Normally, I would allow my social prowess to shine at this point, but I was exhausted and my feel were bleeding and I was painfully bored. Also, I got the sneaking suspicion that some of the company in the room didn't exactly love me, Lord knows why. Then, to my relief, D walked into the room. Actually it was more of a stumble. I think.
He sat on the couch and looked like he was about three seconds from death. Why, oh why dear readers, can I not have a crush on a normal boy and have normal situations with said normal boy? Apparently, he had ALSO had too much to drink and once again, I felt maternal flames lick through me the sun's fury. Mind you, at this point I was kind of annoyed. The ONE person I had counted on to sort of rescue my evening had turned into some sort of incapacitated bean bag. The next thing I know, I'm sitting there feeding him water, trying to talk to him so that he remains conscious. I think I definitely also got some good eye-rolls in there. Look, I am an affectionate person. From what I remember, I may or may not have given him little kisses to make him feel better. These were not passionate kisses a la Days of Our Lives, but were more like little pecks. As I was taking care of D, I felt the tension in the room increase. Since at that point my sole focus was taking care of him [as it had earlier been with princess pukie.], I didn't care much. I just wanted to get home and take off the heels-of-death. Long story short, I went home and L continued her game of chess, which went into overtime.
When I got home, I decided it would be a good idea to make Buffalo wing flavored mac'n'cheese. It tasted like a lovely combination of hot sauce and throw up.
The following night was equally boring [though the day, was awesome]. I do have many more stories from this weekend, which include the douchebag who tipped his kayak over, and me face planting [gracefully, and in slow motion, mind you] while trying to catch a frisbee.
I found out today, a few days later, that according to some that were at V's apartment [and I have a sneaking suspicion who], I was trying to "take advantage" of D while he was severely intoxicated. You know what, you are right. I am just so desperate for male attention [because clearly I don't get it that often] and am SO into men that are inebriated that I couldn't resist myself. The water and wishing I was at home was just a ploy to gain your trust so that I could steal D's innocence while you weren't looking. Is society so jaded that it's hard for people to think that someone genuinely cares about the well-being about another? Are we, as a generation, so untrusting of others that we have to come up with crazy stories to try to grasp the concept of something as simple as compassion? On one hand, the whole thing is so ridiculous that it's laughable. On the other, this situation is so stupid that it almost turns me off D altogether. I know none of it is his fault, but I'd rather not associate with people that would like to see me on America's Most Wanted.
Jealousy makes you ugly. Don't ever forget that, dear readers.
LoveLoveLove,
Gouda
I've missed you. The past few weeks have been really crazy. I am officially back in my college town and am all moved in with a new apartment and a new roommate. It feels like a fresh start and I couldn't be happier. My apartment is the cutest thing on the planet, and my roommate has quickly graduated from being a friend to a sister.
Do not for a second believe that this good news means my life has taken a turn toward normal town. No, no. In fact, I have a few stories to share.
This first story is currently the most salient in my thoughts because it is the most recent (and shocking. And hilarious). Get this, readers. I, Gouda have now secured myself a reputation as some sort of crazy, sexually-frustrated rapist.
Hold the phone. Before you run off and inform your towns beefiest police officer about my escapades, listen to my side of the story.
I will preface this by saying that this past weekend was both fantastic and awful for different reasons. My friend L from high school was visiting and it was great catching up with her. We used to be extremely close and have drifted in recent years. This weekend changed that.
The bad part of my weekend occurred when I suddenly became every drunk person's Mom. Yes, you read right. Gouda, the girl that gets lost on five minute walks in her neighborhood and leaves the gas oven on every night BY ACCIDENT, had to play Momma Bear.
On Friday we all got super dressed up and cute. I even went as far as to wear extremely uncomfortable heels. My feet are still bleeding. It was going to be a good night, I could tell. I should've known better. I have the instincts of a goldfish. The night actually wasn't that horrible from what I remember. By the end of the night, L found herself somewhat intrigued by a lovely young man, named V. Ironically, V is close friends with someone named D that I had previously found myself attracted to. A whole group of us headed back to hang out at V's apartment, which also happened to be where D was staying [or so I thought].
On our way back, we ran into someone throwing up on a bridge. This young man had too much to drink and I didn't feel comfortable leaving him alone, seeing as I have somewhat of a medical background and a marshmallow heart. So, I urged L to continue on her trek with the rest of the group and decided to walk our puking princess home. Of course, he lived a few blocks out of the way, but I figured I'd rather make sure he was okay than step over his rotting corpse the next day while on my daily walk. I walked my new best friend home and made my way back to V's apartment. Apparently tequila brings out my inner Mother Theresa.
When I arrived, I thought that maybe the night would start looking up. I expected D to be there and thought that maybe, just MAYBE I could get to know him better. [A little background info: I just met D and for some reason or another, find him interesting. That being said, he definitely has a lot going on in his life and I'm not sure if the timing is right. That, and I barely know the kid. Every time we hang out, alcohol makes an appearance.] Boy, was I wrong. L and V disappeared for a little bit. From what I hear, they had a heated debate about politics and then went on to play some pretty hardcore chess.
So there I was, sitting in the living room with people I barely knew. I refused to abandon L in a town she didn't know, when she was my guest, and in the process, turned into that awkward friend that sits in the corner while her much hotter friend has a grand time. Normally, I would allow my social prowess to shine at this point, but I was exhausted and my feel were bleeding and I was painfully bored. Also, I got the sneaking suspicion that some of the company in the room didn't exactly love me, Lord knows why. Then, to my relief, D walked into the room. Actually it was more of a stumble. I think.
He sat on the couch and looked like he was about three seconds from death. Why, oh why dear readers, can I not have a crush on a normal boy and have normal situations with said normal boy? Apparently, he had ALSO had too much to drink and once again, I felt maternal flames lick through me the sun's fury. Mind you, at this point I was kind of annoyed. The ONE person I had counted on to sort of rescue my evening had turned into some sort of incapacitated bean bag. The next thing I know, I'm sitting there feeding him water, trying to talk to him so that he remains conscious. I think I definitely also got some good eye-rolls in there. Look, I am an affectionate person. From what I remember, I may or may not have given him little kisses to make him feel better. These were not passionate kisses a la Days of Our Lives, but were more like little pecks. As I was taking care of D, I felt the tension in the room increase. Since at that point my sole focus was taking care of him [as it had earlier been with princess pukie.], I didn't care much. I just wanted to get home and take off the heels-of-death. Long story short, I went home and L continued her game of chess, which went into overtime.
When I got home, I decided it would be a good idea to make Buffalo wing flavored mac'n'cheese. It tasted like a lovely combination of hot sauce and throw up.
The following night was equally boring [though the day, was awesome]. I do have many more stories from this weekend, which include the douchebag who tipped his kayak over, and me face planting [gracefully, and in slow motion, mind you] while trying to catch a frisbee.
I found out today, a few days later, that according to some that were at V's apartment [and I have a sneaking suspicion who], I was trying to "take advantage" of D while he was severely intoxicated. You know what, you are right. I am just so desperate for male attention [because clearly I don't get it that often] and am SO into men that are inebriated that I couldn't resist myself. The water and wishing I was at home was just a ploy to gain your trust so that I could steal D's innocence while you weren't looking. Is society so jaded that it's hard for people to think that someone genuinely cares about the well-being about another? Are we, as a generation, so untrusting of others that we have to come up with crazy stories to try to grasp the concept of something as simple as compassion? On one hand, the whole thing is so ridiculous that it's laughable. On the other, this situation is so stupid that it almost turns me off D altogether. I know none of it is his fault, but I'd rather not associate with people that would like to see me on America's Most Wanted.
Jealousy makes you ugly. Don't ever forget that, dear readers.
LoveLoveLove,
Gouda
Thursday, July 8, 2010
The Game
Been there, done that, messed around I'm having fun don't put me down. I'll never let you sweep me off my feet.
- Bulletproof
I will never be the type of girl who knows, or claims to know, how to play games. I am pretty up front about that. As smart, or sarcastic, or bitchy I can be, I will never be able to do the whole "hard to get", keep 'em in line, kind of fandango. Subtlety has never been my strong suit. HOWEVER, I definitely recommend this foolproof method, and I recommend that if you are like me, you learn it.
However, on a different note. Because I am the type of girl who doesn't really pull any punches, or enjoy the game, I've gotten my heart broken a few times. This leaves me with a whole slew of ex-boyfriends, ex-hook ups, ex-guysIwastogetherwithinhighschool, etc.
ANYONE will tell you to play hard to get, make him work for it, etc. What they won't tell you, but I will, is how rewarding it is to play the game once you no longer care. I should have prefaced before: I can't play the game when I actually like a guy. When I don't really care about him, it's easy as pie (for anyone).
The most rewarding thing in the world is that (usually) inevitable moment when you get a text from a guy who formerly had you on a string, because he just wants to catch up. At this point, you have moved on. You have probably fallen and had your heart broken by someone else. This opportunity gives you the perfect leverage for a little redemption.
The perfect example of this is my ex-whateveryouwant to call it, D. D was your typical playa, playa with whom I was totally infatuated for about a year. We texted (and even sexted) nonstop, and was constantly fucking with my emotions by picking me up and putting me back down whenever he had a new girl friend. I played it pretty cool throughout the entire thing. He considered me his "friend." This all went down my junior year in high school. We continued sporadically until the end of my senior year. Obviously, life continued.
At the beginning of this summer, D contacted me. He contacted me via facebook and via text message with the whole "hey stranger, i miss you" etcetc. I saw my opportunity and I pounced on it. I responded demurely, not enthusiastically, and have been keeping up steady contact with him (without EVER contacting him first). By this point in the summer, D is ready to take it to a level we have never even seen before, emotionally. I dreamed of this moment for SO long in high school. I never thought it would give me MORE satisfaction to turn around and say "we don't really need to do that do we?"
So here is my lesson for today: Ex-boyfriends are not always bad news. Sometimes, it is an important chance to show that you are totally and completely over someone. Obviously, only you can know if your feelings have really evaporated so tread lightly.
xoxo,
jane
Monday, July 5, 2010
Darling, you are the only exception
None of us have the opposite sex completely figured out. I have yet to meet a guy who can honestly say "Oh Yeah, I know EXACTLY how girls work". Actually I have. Granted, this guy looked like an underfed Eminem and had never even kissed a girl.
So dear male readers, this blog entry is especially for you. I can't tell you everything about the female mind, because then I'd have to kill you. No just kidding. Maybe. Actually, if i told you everything, I would be breaking The Sister Code. What? You thought you were the only gender with a code? Also, we're completely crazy and can't even figure ourselves out. I can however, give you a few pointers. Do's and Dont's if you may. There are many guys that are so clueless that it is almost painful to watch them try.
Since I am clearly so fond of lists. Here's one just for you. Print it out and tape it to your wall. Show all your friends. Give it out as party favours. I don't care how you spread the word, just make my advice heard!
1) Why do you feel the need to honk when you drive by? Do you think that I will be so flattered by your desperate plea for attention that I will get naked and run after your mom's beat up Volkswagon? No, Romeo. It is annoying.
2) The same goes for catcalling. Hearing a man scream "hey baby. hey gal. EEEYYY GAL OVER HERE" doesn't exactly scream masculinity. In fact, it screams desperate virgin trying to impress his desperate virgin friends.
3)Don't exaggerate to try to impress us, unless you're gorgeous [in that case you can say whatever you want. We're probably too busy having dirty thoughts to care what you're saying anyway]. We know when you're lying. So when you tell us that you spent last summer helping orphans in Somalia, we know that you actually spent last summer working part-time as a cashier at Costco.
4)My eyes are up here. Cornball touched on this in an earlier. What is the deal with men? I don't even have boobs, and their eyes still wander. I mean, I'm not stupid. You're going to look. Art is meant to be appreciated, right? But please, for the love of God, pick your jaw up off the floor and disassemble the tent in your pants.
5)When we speak, listen. We are not telling you little stories because we like the sound of our own voices. Okay, maybe sometimes. But, that's beside the point. Girls are pretty smart. When we tell you stuff, its always laced with intricate messages. And if you cannot decode these messages, well lets just say I hope you like sleeping on the couch. Example: I told one of my boyfriends [lets call him M] that I don't like recieving red roses. Why? Well one of my exes gave me red roses for EVERYTHING [and sometimes for no reason at all, which was cute]. Red roses are his thing. Anyway, come Valentine's Day, what do I get? M at the door of my dormitory, holding red roses [WHICH, by the way, he hastily bought from Wal-Mart earlier that day, because he had NOTHING planned.] Like come on dude, step your game up.
6)My family is attractive. I happen to be AWARE of this. So it really isn't that necessary for you to tell me just how hot my mom and sister's are. Do it once, and it's cute. Do it too much, and it becomes super creepy. Please stop.
7)Please, Please, Please, IN THE NAME OF GOD, PLEASE do NOT under any circumstances try to be cooler than you actually are. I'll be the first to admit, that I think nerds are a little cute. The whole nervous [I'm talking regular nervous, not prepubescent band-geek nervous] thing can be adorable. But when that band geek puts on his dad's shades and tries to turn his "swag on", the results are abysmal.
8)Nobody likes a pretty boy. It's great that you take care of yourself, and shower [which is more than I can say for many males] but please do not own more hair product than me. Do not wear lipgloss. Do not straighten your hair every morning. Do NOT own more pink than me. I love it when my arm candy is attractive, but I still want to feel like the one with the vagina.
9)Just because a girl has been drinking, does NOT mean she is deaf. So when you and your buddies have a full blown discussion [a la G20 summit] in front of my friends and me about "who gets who", you're basically guaranteeing yourself a date with your right [or left] hand that evening. And that's another thing. YOU don't decide who goes home with who [or not]. We do. So instead of wasting your dog breath trying to convince yourself that the hot brunette is into you, spend that time making a good impression.
10)High school is over. I feel like guys are more immature than girls when it comes to this. It's probably about time to stop lusting after the now-preggo girl you've fantasized about since third grade. And I'm sorry you lost battle of the bands in tenth grade, but please for the love of sweet potatoes build a bridge and get over it. Nobody cares.
11)Don't talk about how great you are. Okay, if you're being sarcastic or witty then I guess it's okay. But talking about the "anaconda" in your pants or telling us how much stamina you have is NOT a turn on. Girls talk. So as much as you're trying to build up hype around your genitals, it is very likely that your ex already told everyone that you're about as impressive as a roll of pennies.
12)DO watch our favorite t.v shows with us. It'll make us melt and make us want to watch UFC with you ALL DAY.
13)Don't dispute Cosmo. We know logically that it's a little ridiculous, but we love it regardless. It's the girl Bible.
14)Don't wear your pants below your waist. Or worse; below your bottom. How that could possibly be comfortable escapes me. And another thing, that little stumble/ limp walk some guys do is not cool. You're from the suburbs, so please refrain.
15)Unless you're completely droolworthy [think Gerard Pique], do NOT try to pull off the scruffy look. You'll just end up looking like the lumberjack paper towel guy. And do not grow out your facial hair if you are blonde. Nobody likes a flesh coloured beard or a Spencer Pratt wannabe.
I could probably continue this list forever [and might even add another edition], but for now I'll leave it at this.
Hope your summers are going great!
Keep it PG readers. Or not.
LoveLoveLove You,
Gouda
So dear male readers, this blog entry is especially for you. I can't tell you everything about the female mind, because then I'd have to kill you. No just kidding. Maybe. Actually, if i told you everything, I would be breaking The Sister Code. What? You thought you were the only gender with a code? Also, we're completely crazy and can't even figure ourselves out. I can however, give you a few pointers. Do's and Dont's if you may. There are many guys that are so clueless that it is almost painful to watch them try.
Since I am clearly so fond of lists. Here's one just for you. Print it out and tape it to your wall. Show all your friends. Give it out as party favours. I don't care how you spread the word, just make my advice heard!
1) Why do you feel the need to honk when you drive by? Do you think that I will be so flattered by your desperate plea for attention that I will get naked and run after your mom's beat up Volkswagon? No, Romeo. It is annoying.
2) The same goes for catcalling. Hearing a man scream "hey baby. hey gal. EEEYYY GAL OVER HERE" doesn't exactly scream masculinity. In fact, it screams desperate virgin trying to impress his desperate virgin friends.
3)Don't exaggerate to try to impress us, unless you're gorgeous [in that case you can say whatever you want. We're probably too busy having dirty thoughts to care what you're saying anyway]. We know when you're lying. So when you tell us that you spent last summer helping orphans in Somalia, we know that you actually spent last summer working part-time as a cashier at Costco.
4)My eyes are up here. Cornball touched on this in an earlier. What is the deal with men? I don't even have boobs, and their eyes still wander. I mean, I'm not stupid. You're going to look. Art is meant to be appreciated, right? But please, for the love of God, pick your jaw up off the floor and disassemble the tent in your pants.
5)When we speak, listen. We are not telling you little stories because we like the sound of our own voices. Okay, maybe sometimes. But, that's beside the point. Girls are pretty smart. When we tell you stuff, its always laced with intricate messages. And if you cannot decode these messages, well lets just say I hope you like sleeping on the couch. Example: I told one of my boyfriends [lets call him M] that I don't like recieving red roses. Why? Well one of my exes gave me red roses for EVERYTHING [and sometimes for no reason at all, which was cute]. Red roses are his thing. Anyway, come Valentine's Day, what do I get? M at the door of my dormitory, holding red roses [WHICH, by the way, he hastily bought from Wal-Mart earlier that day, because he had NOTHING planned.] Like come on dude, step your game up.
6)My family is attractive. I happen to be AWARE of this. So it really isn't that necessary for you to tell me just how hot my mom and sister's are. Do it once, and it's cute. Do it too much, and it becomes super creepy. Please stop.
7)Please, Please, Please, IN THE NAME OF GOD, PLEASE do NOT under any circumstances try to be cooler than you actually are. I'll be the first to admit, that I think nerds are a little cute. The whole nervous [I'm talking regular nervous, not prepubescent band-geek nervous] thing can be adorable. But when that band geek puts on his dad's shades and tries to turn his "swag on", the results are abysmal.
8)Nobody likes a pretty boy. It's great that you take care of yourself, and shower [which is more than I can say for many males] but please do not own more hair product than me. Do not wear lipgloss. Do not straighten your hair every morning. Do NOT own more pink than me. I love it when my arm candy is attractive, but I still want to feel like the one with the vagina.
9)Just because a girl has been drinking, does NOT mean she is deaf. So when you and your buddies have a full blown discussion [a la G20 summit] in front of my friends and me about "who gets who", you're basically guaranteeing yourself a date with your right [or left] hand that evening. And that's another thing. YOU don't decide who goes home with who [or not]. We do. So instead of wasting your dog breath trying to convince yourself that the hot brunette is into you, spend that time making a good impression.
10)High school is over. I feel like guys are more immature than girls when it comes to this. It's probably about time to stop lusting after the now-preggo girl you've fantasized about since third grade. And I'm sorry you lost battle of the bands in tenth grade, but please for the love of sweet potatoes build a bridge and get over it. Nobody cares.
11)Don't talk about how great you are. Okay, if you're being sarcastic or witty then I guess it's okay. But talking about the "anaconda" in your pants or telling us how much stamina you have is NOT a turn on. Girls talk. So as much as you're trying to build up hype around your genitals, it is very likely that your ex already told everyone that you're about as impressive as a roll of pennies.
12)DO watch our favorite t.v shows with us. It'll make us melt and make us want to watch UFC with you ALL DAY.
13)Don't dispute Cosmo. We know logically that it's a little ridiculous, but we love it regardless. It's the girl Bible.
14)Don't wear your pants below your waist. Or worse; below your bottom. How that could possibly be comfortable escapes me. And another thing, that little stumble/ limp walk some guys do is not cool. You're from the suburbs, so please refrain.
15)Unless you're completely droolworthy [think Gerard Pique], do NOT try to pull off the scruffy look. You'll just end up looking like the lumberjack paper towel guy. And do not grow out your facial hair if you are blonde. Nobody likes a flesh coloured beard or a Spencer Pratt wannabe.
I could probably continue this list forever [and might even add another edition], but for now I'll leave it at this.
Hope your summers are going great!
Keep it PG readers. Or not.
LoveLoveLove You,
Gouda
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