I was speaking to my friend the other day about a guy she went on a date with and it got me thinking about how I think girls get off too easy with this stuff.
“Oh we went out a few times… and he’s a nice guy… but I’m just not into him..”
“Ok, so tell him”
“Like to his face?? OH I could never do that, how awkward!”
Haha, you just read this in ALF’s voice!
When it comes to dating, guys have a lot of rules to follow. If we meet a girl we fancy every hormone in our mentally challenged bodies goes nuts. 100,000 years of evolution is telling us we need to be with this women. She drives me wild! I will go and hunt wild animals covered in my animal skin to impress and look after her. I will be her ultimate man warrior, thumping any competing mate with my enormously oversized wooden club and then make sweet love to her with the equally oversized wooden club I have under my snugly fitting animal skin. Unfortunately, 200 years of social pressure (Australia is only that old therefore I don’t know anything before that) is telling us to play it cool and put the wooden club away. Both of them.
We have to go and talk politely to you. We have to smile and make it seem like we have a real personality. We have to try really hard not to stare at your lovely boobies even though you have worn a tight top and we can see the outline of your lacy bra. We have to work out if you are a phone number girl or a Facebook girl. A phone number girl thinks a man should be a man. That even in this age of instant digital communication, it is polite and gentlemanly to call a woman and ask her on a date. Fair enough, we want the milkshake so we will work for it. However then there is Facebook girl, who thinks it is all too much to be giving such personal details as a phone number and would rather sound you out via online chat where she can casually type behind the safety of her iPhone. Now, we have to work out which one you are, so we can approach you in such a way which appeases the mighty goddess who may one day let us touch those sweet boobies which we have tried so hard not to look at. Heaven forbid if we get it wrong though! “Oh what a weirdo, he found my phone number, I only answered because I thought it was that other guy I met at the club calling!” Or.. “Oh what a pathetic non man, he just chats to me on Viber, sending me winky stickers and never asking me out”. It’s hard to know sometimes ladies, extra points to you if you indicate this during the first conversation.
OMG, he added me on Facebook and then proceeded to… oh god I can’t even bring myself to think it… he.. he.. CHATTED WITH ME! Oh god the horror!
Then we have to find the right place to take you. Even with those new American burgers, apparently McDonald’s still isn’t a good choice. I thought you said you liked foreign food? Do you find dinner for two romantic or do you tremble at the thought of being trapped behind a table for 3 hours with nothing but the pretzels to stab him in the leg in defence with when he tries to play footsies with you. The point is, we have to do a lot of stuff and that’s ok, we want to do that… ok… we have to do that… but either way, its the way mankind has been doing it for 200 years.
This is your last line of defence between you and his boring ass travel stories. Oh wow you went to Thailand once, how cultured you are! Stab him in the eye with one of these, if the pretzel doesn’t take him down, the little salt flakes will get in his hair and make him seem like he has dandruff
Here is the deal ladies. If we have go through all of that crap at the start, then the least you can do is tell a guy straight when you don’t like him. You can’t just leave him hanging on because you kinda like the attention. You can’t just say you are washing your hair for the 15th night straight. The nice guys are the ones who often don’t get the message. It’s hard. It’s awkward. It sounds rude and maybe it’s presumptuous but if you don’t like him and his badly fitting shirt then you gotta tell him. Oh but be nice. But direct. I know its tricky but sometimes its us who needs to be beaten over the head with an enormously oversized wooden club. Err.. the first type that is.