wanna feel dumb? leave your wallet when you are taking a date to eat. wanna feel even more stupid? leave your wallet again, when you take the same girl to lunch. promise, you'll know what it means to make a zero move.
This song, however, is not a zero. It is contributing. I like to listen to it in the background, while I am working on my craft. But if you ain't feel my boy Cudi, then you adda listen to just youtube search your favorite rapper (I've only seen 50 cent, B.I.G. *His is the best, Tupac, Jay-z, Nas, Kayne) vs. the xx. Telling ya, you'll be hooked.
I am not big into covers, but my older brother, the connoisseur of music, posted this, and I was impressed. It also helps that I do not like the original.
Showing posts with label dating. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dating. Show all posts
Nasty Encounter
The story I am about to share actually happened. I hope I can convey it in such a way that you feel that you were there and were apart of it.
Time: 10:47 pm. Location: just out side of the Mariott Library, on the University of Utah campus.
I walk outside. It is bitter cold. I hear an odd angry type of 'ughhh' sound, but it had a woman's tone to it. I turn the corner and a couple comes into my sight. The girl is talking very fast. She keeps making the angry yelp sound. He says nothing, he just keeps looking down. They are far enough away that I don't really hear what is going on, and I try to keep my distance, cause she seems like she is ready to snap. Her arms are flailing all over the place. She finally yells, "Fine. I'll walk." And she does. She storms off. The man snaps his head up and watches after her, like he was awakened from a dream by a bucket of ice water. She is cruising, and the dude just keeps looking at her. Doesn't call out to her or run after her. Just stares. He slowly takes out his phone as she is about 40 yards away and I makes a phone call.
By this time she is almost out of sight. He is still staring, with the phone up to his face. By this time, I have completely stopped and am staring. She turns back to look at him. I can't see her face, but her whole body has that 'REALLY? ARE YOU JOKING?' look to it. It's that angry little girl look.
She takes out her phone, with the screen shinning brightly - indicating an incoming call, answers it, and yells.
She said things that would not be deemed lady like. She hung the phone up, turned around, and went back to her walking gig. He watched until she was out of sight, shrugged his shoulders, and went back into the library. By this time, I was like AWESOME!
Time: 10:47 pm. Location: just out side of the Mariott Library, on the University of Utah campus.
She takes out her phone, with the screen shinning brightly - indicating an incoming call, answers it, and yells.
She said things that would not be deemed lady like. She hung the phone up, turned around, and went back to her walking gig. He watched until she was out of sight, shrugged his shoulders, and went back into the library. By this time, I was like AWESOME!
Red Flags
After I wrote my previous post, it got me thinking that I need to add dragon eyes to my mental list of red flags. I have the basic ones, her family, how she chews her gum, if she is a 'yeller' or 'thrower', laugh and humor, favorite movie, and finally, if she spells her name with a "i", when it should be a "y". Then, I turned to my girl, Kristen Wiig for some answers.
She Dragon.
There was this girl the other day, on campus, who had an extreme amount of eyeshadow. It was so bright, that I almost mistook her face for a neon sign. Too much of a good thing can be bad, and in this case, it was. She had the Dragon eyes; which is a red flag. Initially, she might seem appealing, but when you dig deeper, you know there is a story to be told. As in our case, Shrek provides the story, doctrine, and principle of the 'She Dragon'.
"Dragon is never given a proper name in the [Shrek] films. Her fire can melt
metal in seconds, such as Prince Charming's sword in the third film. She
has a taste for knights, her favorite dish. She even has a recipe book
for preparing them for dinner. In the first film, Dragon is charged with guarding Princess Fiona in
her isolated castle, and is therefore initially seen by Shrek and Donkey
as an antagonist. While Shrek tries to rescue the princess, Donkey
finds himself at the mercy of Dragon. However, in terror, he
successfully, but unintentionally, wins her over. Shrek and Donkey
manage to escape with Fiona, leaving Dragon behind. Dragon returns later
in the film, having escaped the volanic keep, and reunites with Donkey.
She flies him and Shrek to Duloc to prevent Fiona marrying Lord
Farquaad, whom she later eats. Dragon and Donkey begin a relationship,
and at the end of the film, when Shrek and Fiona get married, Fiona
tosses her bouquet and Dragon catches it. She looks over at Donkey, who
then looks at Shrek with surprise and slight terror. After Shrek nods to
Donkey, giving them his blessing, Donkey accepts Dragon as his mate," (taken from Wikipedia). Then they make some kind of ugly flying jackass. The end.
Women, with dragon eyes, are like the dragon. Initially, violent, even willing to murder. Which can be attractive, even fun, I guess. Somehow, in their insanity, the dragon woman will fall in love with you. However, you did nothing to promote that feeling, nor did you reciprocate that feeling. You were merely interested. You are forced, not by the laws of nature or love, rather the laws of submission, to give into them. If you do not, they will eat you; they love eating people. In the end, you will make ugly looking babies.
When you see a woman with dragon eyes, you become interested. When you become interested, you say too much. When you say too much, you get into trouble. When you get into trouble, you get end up in a commitment. When you have a commitment, you make rash decisions. And when you make rash decisions, you wake up to an ugly baby. Stop making rash decisions. Don't look at women with dragon eyes.
NOTE: I do not have any real experience in this field. But I know a many men who have fallen to this con. Thanks to their experiences, I have dodged that bullet. Her eyes tell the story. And she either has F.P. or the murder gene, for sure.
When you see a woman with dragon eyes, you become interested. When you become interested, you say too much. When you say too much, you get into trouble. When you get into trouble, you get end up in a commitment. When you have a commitment, you make rash decisions. And when you make rash decisions, you wake up to an ugly baby. Stop making rash decisions. Don't look at women with dragon eyes.
NOTE: I do not have any real experience in this field. But I know a many men who have fallen to this con. Thanks to their experiences, I have dodged that bullet. Her eyes tell the story. And she either has F.P. or the murder gene, for sure.
Jealous
I got some issues man, some real issues, with my homies girlfriends. I don't hate em, just urked. I hate getting replaced, and that is exactly what has happened. I went from the starting lineup to the bench, but unlike my counterpart World Peace, I'm no team player; I am upset. Green with envy of these girls, that they get to spend all that time with 'ma boyz'. What do they have that I don't? Girls have some great qualities and advantages. I can admit that. One thing that I will not accept is they can replace me.
First of all, they are not more fun than me. For real, how could they be? Girls aren't funny/fun, sure there are some exceptions (Tina Fey, Kristen Wigg, and......). Sure, girls can be clever, make you chuckle/laugh quietly to yourself, but they'll never make you lose your shorts in laughter. Ever. As for fun... oh my gosh. Kissing could fill that void for awhile, but that fades, and then what do you have? Zero fun, that's what.
Secondly, the boys have to alter their personality for them. For instance, they gotta watch their tongue, pretend that they don't fart, that they actually want to watch lame TV, and diet Coke is good. C'mon man. That's not you. You love to say the B word. It is funny. You have the worst smelling farts ever, and you love to share your brand. And I know you would NOT choose to watch shows that are similar or are like: The Bachelor. As for the Diet Coke crap. Really dude? Really?
Finally, she is cutting into our time. You know, the time where we "do stuff". Now all of the sudden you can't play ball, or you can't come with me to do hood rat things. Instead, I do hood rat things on my own, and look like a real tool. I pulled off of a sweet gig the other day, and guess what? I still haven't told you guys. Then I went to a movie by myself the other night. You know how depressing that was? I had to go to the middle of the theater by myself then I left before the credits even started.
You have to take what I say with a grain of salt. I'm just super ornery right now. Forgive me.
First of all, they are not more fun than me. For real, how could they be? Girls aren't funny/fun, sure there are some exceptions (Tina Fey, Kristen Wigg, and......). Sure, girls can be clever, make you chuckle/laugh quietly to yourself, but they'll never make you lose your shorts in laughter. Ever. As for fun... oh my gosh. Kissing could fill that void for awhile, but that fades, and then what do you have? Zero fun, that's what.
Secondly, the boys have to alter their personality for them. For instance, they gotta watch their tongue, pretend that they don't fart, that they actually want to watch lame TV, and diet Coke is good. C'mon man. That's not you. You love to say the B word. It is funny. You have the worst smelling farts ever, and you love to share your brand. And I know you would NOT choose to watch shows that are similar or are like: The Bachelor. As for the Diet Coke crap. Really dude? Really?
Finally, she is cutting into our time. You know, the time where we "do stuff". Now all of the sudden you can't play ball, or you can't come with me to do hood rat things. Instead, I do hood rat things on my own, and look like a real tool. I pulled off of a sweet gig the other day, and guess what? I still haven't told you guys. Then I went to a movie by myself the other night. You know how depressing that was? I had to go to the middle of the theater by myself then I left before the credits even started.
You have to take what I say with a grain of salt. I'm just super ornery right now. Forgive me.
Hopeless, according to... everyone.
I am 24... In this Mormon culture I am ancient, especially considering that I am getting close to that age of 25. That's a bad number to hit when you are single. Brigham Young said that a man who was 25 and unmarried is a menace (A person or thing that is likely to cause harm; a threat or danger) to society. I am certain that I will become another menace. I do not know how I've managed to remain single in this fast relationship world. I'm such a fool. I should've been in a hurry and married the first broad I dated. [I hope you are catching the sarcasm.]
Let be real though, I do feel like my age marks me. I am hesitant to tell people, because I can see them hold back their gasp of shock. Then, their shock, turns into matchmaking. They wanna fix me, like I am their service project. If they could just line me up with Ms. Right, then maybe they can sleep at night, cause I am their responsibility.
This is a real concern for those who love me; my family, bless their hearts, are very worried, and I get that. My mother thought I would be married six months after my mission. Phew, thank heavens I did do that. No offense Melissa, but.. yeah.... I am the last member of my family who has yet to be married (Steven gets married this June). So, naturally, everyone wants to set me up. Just this last Christmas break I had a former young men's teacher corner me and try to set me up with a "girl that would be perfect for me." He taught me when I was 16. He obviously KNOWS me.
Call me jaded, cynical, whatever, the blind date thing-- getting set up, is a farce. It doesn't work. I can't think of a single blind date that resulted in a lasting and meaningful relationship. They have all been casualties, train wrecks, just bad. Maybe it's user error, but I doubt that. I am not saying that those dates and interactions weren't helpful, they have been, but the whole match making is doomed from the beginning (the expectations from both parties lead to a superficial interest and involvement).
I'm over it. So, no thanks Uncle Rod, I don't wanna date your egotistical niece. No thanks Brother Sorenson, I'll pass on your friend. No thanks Mom, I love you, but it ain't gunna happen. It might be easier to have a sign, "Unmarried. 24. Undecided profession. Loves the Lakers. High blood pressure. Selfish."
Cold shoulder.
Besides being a song by Adele, that everyone should listen to/ like it, I've been getting a cold shoulder from a girl I barely know!
My monster of an Uncle, Rodney, suggested that I should date one of his nieces. No relation. Again, she is not related to me. No, she is not. NO. Nope. Uh-uh. Neva.
He said she was a "10", and that I shouldn't let the grass grow underneath her feet (whatever that means, I don't deal with fertilizer). Rod said that he talked me, made me sound good... so he lied... and anyone can find that out (thanks facebook for making my life transparent)....My uncle then gave me her number. Before I could call her, which should have been immediately, I got a call the next day from my uncle asking me if I had called. He followed up with me because a) this girl is awesome and wants me badly or b) he is worried sick about me. Which leads me to side note....
My family is truly worried about me, not because I am Ute (that does relate to their worries), but because I am not married. I am 24 and single. This is information about me, this doesn't conclude that I will be forever alone. That's not knowledge. Read a book. Then you'll get some knowledge. But I am getting constantly haggled about dating and people are trying to set me up. Call it what you want, I find it obnoxious, just like Tim Tebow. He is really annoying. Back to the story.
I call her. No answer. Hmmmmk. I am thinking. Why play hard to get? I mean, your aunt and unlce, okay, fine OUR aunt and uncle tried to set this up. Can't be a bad thing, right? It's legal! I let it go, kinda, as much as I can. So I don't. I fester.
Then a week later I text her. I was a little bugged that she never returned my call. Wouldn't you be? She texts back saying she is terrible at communication and all that monkey business (an idiom for being a liar). I give her the benefit of the doubt and wait till I am back in Utah to call. I do. She doesn't pick up. Pissed. Me. Off. She responds to my texts, that say stuff like, 'why are you bein lame? C'mon. Be real.' Because I ain't asking a girl out on a date over text. I call her two more times than I ever should have. Why? Pride. The whole thing didn't make sense to me.
What kind of a person doesn't answer the phone? That was rhetorical, but I'll answer it for you, people without hands or manners! What kind of girl doesn't give a mercy date? Again, I'll take this one, a mean one. This affair was set up by OUR aunt and uncle. This was like an invite to Christmas party. All she had to do was show up. Actually, she just had to be picked up. This was more like me coming over to sing Christmas carols to her. I was asking to sing songs about Christmas... Alas, I gave up the ghost.
I can't wait till my uncle sees me and ask, "Well, my boy, how is my niece?" I will look up, gulp my confidence down, and say, "I never took her out." He will look at me, frown a bit, furrow his brow, and then say, "huh." That will be the end of our conversation and relationship. Thanks cold shoulder girl.
I like this. Thehe
My monster of an Uncle, Rodney, suggested that I should date one of his nieces. No relation. Again, she is not related to me. No, she is not. NO. Nope. Uh-uh. Neva.
He said she was a "10", and that I shouldn't let the grass grow underneath her feet (whatever that means, I don't deal with fertilizer). Rod said that he talked me, made me sound good... so he lied... and anyone can find that out (thanks facebook for making my life transparent)....My uncle then gave me her number. Before I could call her, which should have been immediately, I got a call the next day from my uncle asking me if I had called. He followed up with me because a) this girl is awesome and wants me badly or b) he is worried sick about me. Which leads me to side note....
My family is truly worried about me, not because I am Ute (that does relate to their worries), but because I am not married. I am 24 and single. This is information about me, this doesn't conclude that I will be forever alone. That's not knowledge. Read a book. Then you'll get some knowledge. But I am getting constantly haggled about dating and people are trying to set me up. Call it what you want, I find it obnoxious, just like Tim Tebow. He is really annoying. Back to the story.
Then a week later I text her. I was a little bugged that she never returned my call. Wouldn't you be? She texts back saying she is terrible at communication and all that monkey business (an idiom for being a liar). I give her the benefit of the doubt and wait till I am back in Utah to call. I do. She doesn't pick up. Pissed. Me. Off. She responds to my texts, that say stuff like, 'why are you bein lame? C'mon. Be real.' Because I ain't asking a girl out on a date over text. I call her two more times than I ever should have. Why? Pride. The whole thing didn't make sense to me.
What kind of a person doesn't answer the phone? That was rhetorical, but I'll answer it for you, people without hands or manners! What kind of girl doesn't give a mercy date? Again, I'll take this one, a mean one. This affair was set up by OUR aunt and uncle. This was like an invite to Christmas party. All she had to do was show up. Actually, she just had to be picked up. This was more like me coming over to sing Christmas carols to her. I was asking to sing songs about Christmas... Alas, I gave up the ghost.
I can't wait till my uncle sees me and ask, "Well, my boy, how is my niece?" I will look up, gulp my confidence down, and say, "I never took her out." He will look at me, frown a bit, furrow his brow, and then say, "huh." That will be the end of our conversation and relationship. Thanks cold shoulder girl.
I like this. Thehe
Fairy tales are for kids.
Welcome to the real world, you little jerk.
(names were made up. Any similarities to your life is completely by coincidence. This is a fictional story with a real theme. I would never write about you.)
Once upon a time, there was a boy named Charles. He had a friend name Samuel. They were best friends. They were friends with many friends, like Mikey, Reggie, and Jet. These boys liked girls, but getting the best girls was hard. Jet moved too fast. Reggie was too sweet. Mikey was too shy. Samuel might have been gay. But Charles, he was able to slay the hottest babes. The other boys didn't mind, because Charles' babe would bring other babes. This was all fine until Charles brought his new woman to meet them...
Eyes were fixed on her, well, the boys would sneak glances, to stare at her. Her jokes couldn't seem more funny. Her intelligence was mediocre, making her seem to good to be true. She was a sheer dean. (sheer dean is a term used in the Hyde home. It means she is without question, a keeper, a ten, aka your childrens mother) All of the boys had a crush on her, but none of them would come out and say it, that would be wrong.
Kind of like Samuel admitting he had a crush on Jet... That would be wrong, cause that would change the dynamic of their relationship. Jet wouldn't be mature about it or supportive really.
What could they do to get Charles girl? All of them could see that Charles was a bad match for this sheer dean. They would and could treat her better. Alas, they dreamed of the couple breaking. The bro code forbade them from trying to ruin the relationship. What could they do? A lie, yes? A rumor of sorts. No, that was overplayed in recent movies. Murder? Too far. Send her love notes? Give me break.
Actually, this story sucks. The point is to get over her... Or pull a Dane Cook. I really just posted this so I could put this link up. Fair warning, this website has some very foul language, but makes me laugh.
(names were made up. Any similarities to your life is completely by coincidence. This is a fictional story with a real theme. I would never write about you.)
Once upon a time, there was a boy named Charles. He had a friend name Samuel. They were best friends. They were friends with many friends, like Mikey, Reggie, and Jet. These boys liked girls, but getting the best girls was hard. Jet moved too fast. Reggie was too sweet. Mikey was too shy. Samuel might have been gay. But Charles, he was able to slay the hottest babes. The other boys didn't mind, because Charles' babe would bring other babes. This was all fine until Charles brought his new woman to meet them...
Eyes were fixed on her, well, the boys would sneak glances, to stare at her. Her jokes couldn't seem more funny. Her intelligence was mediocre, making her seem to good to be true. She was a sheer dean. (sheer dean is a term used in the Hyde home. It means she is without question, a keeper, a ten, aka your childrens mother) All of the boys had a crush on her, but none of them would come out and say it, that would be wrong.
Kind of like Samuel admitting he had a crush on Jet... That would be wrong, cause that would change the dynamic of their relationship. Jet wouldn't be mature about it or supportive really.
What could they do to get Charles girl? All of them could see that Charles was a bad match for this sheer dean. They would and could treat her better. Alas, they dreamed of the couple breaking. The bro code forbade them from trying to ruin the relationship. What could they do? A lie, yes? A rumor of sorts. No, that was overplayed in recent movies. Murder? Too far. Send her love notes? Give me break.
Actually, this story sucks. The point is to get over her... Or pull a Dane Cook. I really just posted this so I could put this link up. Fair warning, this website has some very foul language, but makes me laugh.
Oops... I did it again.
During my freshman year of college, I dated this girl name Melissa. We had a lot of fun together. I really liked her. She was a really cool girl, but I had a problem with her. I just could not keep her name straight...
Right before Melissa I dated Michelle. We didn't date that long, at least it didn't feel like it, but she made a lasting impression on the side of my brain called Randy. Randy would prod me late at night to call Melissa Michelle. Call it a Freudian slip, call it an accident, it was getting out of control. I finally had to pause every time before I said Melissa's name, look at her, and ask myself, "What is her name?" I guess the "Mu" sound at the beginning of the names was too much for me too handle.
I thought I was over this little problem... until I started dating Brittany. One night we were having a serious talk. The kind of talk where if you say something dumb, the walls of Jericho are going to come tumbling down. During the conversation I was getting all close, trying to be sweet, then it happened. Randy makes me spit out an awkward, "Brryyynnnn." I trailed off on the end after I started to hit the "y". I was going for a "Britt" but I made the awful "y" sound.
It was bad. I felt so bad. It couldn't have come at a more inappropriate time. I almost wish she would've punched me in the face, that would have made me feel better. I will never live it down...
Right before Melissa I dated Michelle. We didn't date that long, at least it didn't feel like it, but she made a lasting impression on the side of my brain called Randy. Randy would prod me late at night to call Melissa Michelle. Call it a Freudian slip, call it an accident, it was getting out of control. I finally had to pause every time before I said Melissa's name, look at her, and ask myself, "What is her name?" I guess the "Mu" sound at the beginning of the names was too much for me too handle.
I thought I was over this little problem... until I started dating Brittany. One night we were having a serious talk. The kind of talk where if you say something dumb, the walls of Jericho are going to come tumbling down. During the conversation I was getting all close, trying to be sweet, then it happened. Randy makes me spit out an awkward, "Brryyynnnn." I trailed off on the end after I started to hit the "y". I was going for a "Britt" but I made the awful "y" sound.
It was bad. I felt so bad. It couldn't have come at a more inappropriate time. I almost wish she would've punched me in the face, that would have made me feel better. I will never live it down...
Dating 101
If there was a class offered on dating at SUU or the institute building, I would take it.... oh wait, I guess that class is called preparing for eternal marriage. Any-who Ballo, I am not going to give a do's and don'ts list. I am not going to tell anyone how to act on a date, mainly because I think I am a terrible dater. What I can offer is some possible memory making ideas. Like a bottle of Jordan's cologne, this could change your whole outlook on dating.
CAUTION: Cedar is extremely small. Be careful to use these tactics, if ever.
I will say this, dating is supposed to be fun, so make it fun. If you can't make it fun, quit. That is what Charlie Sheen did.
Scenario 1: This is a first date. She is cute, however she has the sense of humor of Jack Bauer and an IQ of Paris Hilton. You can foresee that this date is going to be awful. You have planned an outing; something witty, special even, and you don't wanna waste the time on her. I suggest that you don't. Ask a controversial question, or a seemingly arbitrary one. She will hopefully respond, and when she does, get pissed. Get so pissed that she is afraid you might jerk the car off the road. "YOU WOULD CHOOSE MONET AS A MORE INFLUENTIAL ARTIST THAN MICHELANGELO?!!" Imagine the confusion. The utterly beautiful way you have destroyed a mediocre night. Now you can take her home, you can go home, you have a wonderful story. Tell me about it. I will laugh. We will laugh. I will call others, they will laugh.
Scenario 2: You have been dating this girl off and on for a few months. Things are not looking promising, but she is super cool, but you can't seem to shake her. She feel likes a shadow with the tenacity of a ingrown hair. You need to make it clear that she is just not cutting it. Take her out to eat. Midway through your meal, and mind you, you should be eating like you have been eating sawdust for weeks, you just get up and leave. Don't say a word. Ghost like Swayze. You have successfully said two things: 1. You are hilarious. (Which she will call immature and a real jackwagon move, which is probably true) 2. She should have been paying for other dates. (Thanks for a small portion back. I really enjoyed that steak).....Sure she might hate you for a little bit, but was she ever really worth it? Have you really ruined your reputation? No. Nothing of the sort....
Scenario 3: You have been set up on a blind date, but you have done your homework. She is suspect, she may or not be super duper boring, or just dog ugly. This is a solo blind date, the real McCoy, a true test for a battle harden warrior. As all warriors do, you have a back up plan. You utilize the bro code. You may be out, you may be in, you may be anywhere, but "maybe I'll call in the troops..." isn't a back up plan. A simple text to a friend with your location and the urgency, will resolve the floundering date from a possible drowning. Your super hero friend comes into your date and pretends to be a long lost friend. You cannot simply turn him away, to do so would be utterly rude and inconsiderate. He needs to befriended. He needs to be with you and your date the rest of your night. Seeing what I am painting? You have turned this into a bro-session. Gold. Pure gold.
I could give you scenario after scenario, but I need to wrap this post up, I am barely holding on to your attention. Here is the Spark Note section: What I am saying is that you should end crappy dates. If she looks tired, that is an open door that you need to smash trough like Dwayne Johnson. If she is lame, take her home. Now there are some exceptions. I am sure you can figure those out (she knows everyone and will tell everyone, she is a second cousin, she has a physical or mental handicap).
CAUTION: Cedar is extremely small. Be careful to use these tactics, if ever.
I will say this, dating is supposed to be fun, so make it fun. If you can't make it fun, quit. That is what Charlie Sheen did.
Scenario 1: This is a first date. She is cute, however she has the sense of humor of Jack Bauer and an IQ of Paris Hilton. You can foresee that this date is going to be awful. You have planned an outing; something witty, special even, and you don't wanna waste the time on her. I suggest that you don't. Ask a controversial question, or a seemingly arbitrary one. She will hopefully respond, and when she does, get pissed. Get so pissed that she is afraid you might jerk the car off the road. "YOU WOULD CHOOSE MONET AS A MORE INFLUENTIAL ARTIST THAN MICHELANGELO?!!" Imagine the confusion. The utterly beautiful way you have destroyed a mediocre night. Now you can take her home, you can go home, you have a wonderful story. Tell me about it. I will laugh. We will laugh. I will call others, they will laugh.
Scenario 2: You have been dating this girl off and on for a few months. Things are not looking promising, but she is super cool, but you can't seem to shake her. She feel likes a shadow with the tenacity of a ingrown hair. You need to make it clear that she is just not cutting it. Take her out to eat. Midway through your meal, and mind you, you should be eating like you have been eating sawdust for weeks, you just get up and leave. Don't say a word. Ghost like Swayze. You have successfully said two things: 1. You are hilarious. (Which she will call immature and a real jackwagon move, which is probably true) 2. She should have been paying for other dates. (Thanks for a small portion back. I really enjoyed that steak).....Sure she might hate you for a little bit, but was she ever really worth it? Have you really ruined your reputation? No. Nothing of the sort....
Scenario 3: You have been set up on a blind date, but you have done your homework. She is suspect, she may or not be super duper boring, or just dog ugly. This is a solo blind date, the real McCoy, a true test for a battle harden warrior. As all warriors do, you have a back up plan. You utilize the bro code. You may be out, you may be in, you may be anywhere, but "maybe I'll call in the troops..." isn't a back up plan. A simple text to a friend with your location and the urgency, will resolve the floundering date from a possible drowning. Your super hero friend comes into your date and pretends to be a long lost friend. You cannot simply turn him away, to do so would be utterly rude and inconsiderate. He needs to befriended. He needs to be with you and your date the rest of your night. Seeing what I am painting? You have turned this into a bro-session. Gold. Pure gold.
I could give you scenario after scenario, but I need to wrap this post up, I am barely holding on to your attention. Here is the Spark Note section: What I am saying is that you should end crappy dates. If she looks tired, that is an open door that you need to smash trough like Dwayne Johnson. If she is lame, take her home. Now there are some exceptions. I am sure you can figure those out (she knows everyone and will tell everyone, she is a second cousin, she has a physical or mental handicap).
If you have nothing to post.
Post nothing at all... however, I think I have a little nugget of funniness. That has nothing to do with me in this shark costume.
Over a month ago, maybe longer, I went on a date with this girl named Trisha*. How I came to meet Trisha foreshadows what kind of a date we would have. I was at a dance party. The lights were pretty dim, frankly it was dark, but I see this girl who knows how to move. I like girls that know how to move. I make my way over to this blonde headed girl and dance with her. I get her number, which I never do, so I felt pretty good about myself. After the allotted time that guys are supposed to wait, I call her and set up a date.
Mowgli and his g/f, McCall, accompany me to pick her up. The anticipation is running high, I haven't been on a date in a LONG time. I go to her door and the girl that comes out is not the same I remember dancing with. I am a little disappointed. As we get into the car the awkwardness creeps in heavy. I ask some of the pointless first date questions, hoping that they will move the clock faster. I feel Mowgs and McCall listening to everything, which makes me even more uncomfortable.
We get to the APX building, which is a big kids playground. We decide to play horse, but after watching Trisha shoot the ball we agree that pig is a better choice. The whole concept of matching the shot and going in order is just too much for her. Maybe she was nervous, but pig might as well have been taking integrals for her. I noticed something else odd. She kept standing behind me and to the side, so creating a conversation was extremely difficult. I kept having to turn my neck at a funny angle to even see her. Then I smelt her, and realized why. I knew that smell from the dance party. Poor girl, bless her heart.
Naturally, it is now my turn to make this date better. I take her home in my car and the conversation becomes more comfortable. Then I recognize the PoPo5o. The Pearl still doesn't have lights. I pull over before his lights flash bright. She is looking confused. I explain that I am a cheap-o and still haven't replaced the lights for a year and have just been trying to dodge the police. The officer comes to the window and I get my shiznit out. He notices two things in my glove compartment that I have forgotten about, a shiny silver hip flask and my throwing knife. I see that he sees them, and he sees that I saw that he saw them, she sees that he and I saw them. I know he is wondering what I am wondering. She is probably wondering what you are wondering, we are all wondering the same thing. WHY? Why do I have a hip flask and a knife? Hip flask was from a game I played at work... I used to take swigs of it without being noticed. When people did see me, they would give me a really funny look. I promise, not a single drop of alcohol has touched that flask. The knife, you never know when you might need to throw a knife.
I hope I have done justice to this date, because it was the worst of my life. Imagine if I was really into this girl? Gosh, I would be just heartbroken. I am glad that I went through it though. Now, on a first date if I get asked, "So, David, what has been your worst date?" I can tell this story instead of looking at some broad and say without blinking, "You."
*Trisha's name is not Trisha.
Over a month ago, maybe longer, I went on a date with this girl named Trisha*. How I came to meet Trisha foreshadows what kind of a date we would have. I was at a dance party. The lights were pretty dim, frankly it was dark, but I see this girl who knows how to move. I like girls that know how to move. I make my way over to this blonde headed girl and dance with her. I get her number, which I never do, so I felt pretty good about myself. After the allotted time that guys are supposed to wait, I call her and set up a date.
Mowgli and his g/f, McCall, accompany me to pick her up. The anticipation is running high, I haven't been on a date in a LONG time. I go to her door and the girl that comes out is not the same I remember dancing with. I am a little disappointed. As we get into the car the awkwardness creeps in heavy. I ask some of the pointless first date questions, hoping that they will move the clock faster. I feel Mowgs and McCall listening to everything, which makes me even more uncomfortable.
We get to the APX building, which is a big kids playground. We decide to play horse, but after watching Trisha shoot the ball we agree that pig is a better choice. The whole concept of matching the shot and going in order is just too much for her. Maybe she was nervous, but pig might as well have been taking integrals for her. I noticed something else odd. She kept standing behind me and to the side, so creating a conversation was extremely difficult. I kept having to turn my neck at a funny angle to even see her. Then I smelt her, and realized why. I knew that smell from the dance party. Poor girl, bless her heart.
Naturally, it is now my turn to make this date better. I take her home in my car and the conversation becomes more comfortable. Then I recognize the PoPo5o. The Pearl still doesn't have lights. I pull over before his lights flash bright. She is looking confused. I explain that I am a cheap-o and still haven't replaced the lights for a year and have just been trying to dodge the police. The officer comes to the window and I get my shiznit out. He notices two things in my glove compartment that I have forgotten about, a shiny silver hip flask and my throwing knife. I see that he sees them, and he sees that I saw that he saw them, she sees that he and I saw them. I know he is wondering what I am wondering. She is probably wondering what you are wondering, we are all wondering the same thing. WHY? Why do I have a hip flask and a knife? Hip flask was from a game I played at work... I used to take swigs of it without being noticed. When people did see me, they would give me a really funny look. I promise, not a single drop of alcohol has touched that flask. The knife, you never know when you might need to throw a knife.
I hope I have done justice to this date, because it was the worst of my life. Imagine if I was really into this girl? Gosh, I would be just heartbroken. I am glad that I went through it though. Now, on a first date if I get asked, "So, David, what has been your worst date?" I can tell this story instead of looking at some broad and say without blinking, "You."
*Trisha's name is not Trisha.
And the Categories are...
First of all, Happy Thanksgiving. Be grateful, you capitalistic pig.
Red, Blue, Yellow, White. Four in all. Four simple colors that define the personality type of every single human being on this planet. Dr. Taylor Hartman, the guy who came up with this book, theorizes that if we understand others personalities and our own, we can have more substantial relationships. I have not completed the book, I have glanced over most of it, mostly reading the sections about my personality type. I just find it interesting that we have to put labels on things. For whatever reason it makes us feel more comfortable. It is practical. I mean, imagine going into a store and none of the aisles are labeled, uh annoying. But the problem is when we categorize people. Put them into a box and say, "This is you. You are good at x,y,z, however, you are not good at a,b,c." Sometimes the category that Joe Shmoe was put into was right, spot on, however, there are obviously exceptions.
I guess what really got me thinking about this is the crisis of relationship labels. The dreaded D.T.R. This talk will make or break whatever kind of thing is going on. This is the point of no return. As soon as you say or hear, "So, what are we?" there is NO going back. Don't even try to grab a Twix, it is just too late. I do it. I wanna know. I guess that is part of human nature, curiosity? -- but curiosity killed the cat. So should I really even ask or talk about it? Cause how dumb does this sound:
About a year ago, maybe more, I am dating this girl. I like her a lot. I ask her, "Do you want to be exclusive?" As soon as I said that I felt this stinging sensation in my mouth and felt brain cells die inside my head. I found out that day that there is such a thing as a dumb question, and when you ask dumb questions, brain cells die. She says,"Like be official?" with a tone saying, 'Oh my gosh, you are like so middle school.' *AWKWARD PAUSE* I am trying to come up with something sweet/cute/smart, but nothing is coming. "Yeah...." I said. "Of course David" with a snide tone, as if I said that her choice in toilet paper was poor.
I felt from that day forward that it was dangerous to put a label on any kind of a relationship. If I call you to play basketball, we are friends. Just assume. If you are questioning it, don't. My actions let you know where I stand.
There are two types of people in this world, men and women.
Red, Blue, Yellow, White. Four in all. Four simple colors that define the personality type of every single human being on this planet. Dr. Taylor Hartman, the guy who came up with this book, theorizes that if we understand others personalities and our own, we can have more substantial relationships. I have not completed the book, I have glanced over most of it, mostly reading the sections about my personality type. I just find it interesting that we have to put labels on things. For whatever reason it makes us feel more comfortable. It is practical. I mean, imagine going into a store and none of the aisles are labeled, uh annoying. But the problem is when we categorize people. Put them into a box and say, "This is you. You are good at x,y,z, however, you are not good at a,b,c." Sometimes the category that Joe Shmoe was put into was right, spot on, however, there are obviously exceptions.
I guess what really got me thinking about this is the crisis of relationship labels. The dreaded D.T.R. This talk will make or break whatever kind of thing is going on. This is the point of no return. As soon as you say or hear, "So, what are we?" there is NO going back. Don't even try to grab a Twix, it is just too late. I do it. I wanna know. I guess that is part of human nature, curiosity? -- but curiosity killed the cat. So should I really even ask or talk about it? Cause how dumb does this sound:
About a year ago, maybe more, I am dating this girl. I like her a lot. I ask her, "Do you want to be exclusive?" As soon as I said that I felt this stinging sensation in my mouth and felt brain cells die inside my head. I found out that day that there is such a thing as a dumb question, and when you ask dumb questions, brain cells die. She says,"Like be official?" with a tone saying, 'Oh my gosh, you are like so middle school.' *AWKWARD PAUSE* I am trying to come up with something sweet/cute/smart, but nothing is coming. "Yeah...." I said. "Of course David" with a snide tone, as if I said that her choice in toilet paper was poor.
I felt from that day forward that it was dangerous to put a label on any kind of a relationship. If I call you to play basketball, we are friends. Just assume. If you are questioning it, don't. My actions let you know where I stand.
There are two types of people in this world, men and women.
Outta my League.
Its a Monday night, it is dark outside. I drive alone home, only the fog lights are on, just thinking. I ask myself, did you really just get back from the Eden?
Monday morning. No work, the steer skid is still out of commission. I wrestle out of bed wondering what I am going to do to entertain myself until the evening's plans. The People and I go to get a hair cut, cause I need to look sharp for tonight. My salon specialist suggests a Euro Faux Hawk. She promises that I will have "more play with the ladies than I have ever had." I of course call her bluff, and get the hawk (come to find out she is a total liar).
The day passes uneventfully. No car accidents, no littering fines, no bums calling out for help. Nothing. Suddenly, just like a heart attack, the night arrives. I need to get ready, because tonight I journey to Eden with Jasmine.
Jasmine is what I would like to call Ms. Independent. Ne-Yo was singing about her. She has her own things, she does her own things. She doesn't need a man to provide for her. It is sufficient to say that she intimidates me. The combination of beauty and intelligence in one woman is just stupid crazy good, but throw in fun, genuine, and kind... shoot, better call up the President cause we have a national security situation up on over here! And what do I have to offer her? Cosmetically and materially? Nothing. That is why I can't lose... or win.
Eden is a splendid little spot north of Utah. It is relatively secluded. We are attending a wedding reception tonight, which makes things a little awkward as is. People are asking if we are a couple, dating, and such. But I handle cool like a ice cube, cause nothing is really cooler than that. However, I am completely surrounded by ball flexors. I mean the real deal. These fools embody the definition of flexing nuts.
I was feeling pretty confident, then all of the sudden I realized that I have really nothing to offer this woman. I need to get with the program. I am usually pretty calm and collected, but when I think about calling her, or going over to her place, I get rattled. I don't know what it is. Maybe I just know that I am a minor league hitter swinging in the big leagues (as said by McD). No, I know I have a lot to offer.... like.... fun? We'll roll with that. Anyways, she flat out scares me. I do not know what to do. Making a move seems more difficult then reciting the alphabet backwards in Swahili.
Yes, you did just back from Eden bro; and yes, you are a fool. However, it is not about how many home runs you have, it is about how many times you go up to swing. Right? Just a confident booster for myself. Swing for the fences, aim for the moon, hitch a wagon to a star......
Monday morning. No work, the steer skid is still out of commission. I wrestle out of bed wondering what I am going to do to entertain myself until the evening's plans. The People and I go to get a hair cut, cause I need to look sharp for tonight. My salon specialist suggests a Euro Faux Hawk. She promises that I will have "more play with the ladies than I have ever had." I of course call her bluff, and get the hawk (come to find out she is a total liar).
The day passes uneventfully. No car accidents, no littering fines, no bums calling out for help. Nothing. Suddenly, just like a heart attack, the night arrives. I need to get ready, because tonight I journey to Eden with Jasmine.
Jasmine is what I would like to call Ms. Independent. Ne-Yo was singing about her. She has her own things, she does her own things. She doesn't need a man to provide for her. It is sufficient to say that she intimidates me. The combination of beauty and intelligence in one woman is just stupid crazy good, but throw in fun, genuine, and kind... shoot, better call up the President cause we have a national security situation up on over here! And what do I have to offer her? Cosmetically and materially? Nothing. That is why I can't lose... or win.
Eden is a splendid little spot north of Utah. It is relatively secluded. We are attending a wedding reception tonight, which makes things a little awkward as is. People are asking if we are a couple, dating, and such. But I handle cool like a ice cube, cause nothing is really cooler than that. However, I am completely surrounded by ball flexors. I mean the real deal. These fools embody the definition of flexing nuts.
I was feeling pretty confident, then all of the sudden I realized that I have really nothing to offer this woman. I need to get with the program. I am usually pretty calm and collected, but when I think about calling her, or going over to her place, I get rattled. I don't know what it is. Maybe I just know that I am a minor league hitter swinging in the big leagues (as said by McD). No, I know I have a lot to offer.... like.... fun? We'll roll with that. Anyways, she flat out scares me. I do not know what to do. Making a move seems more difficult then reciting the alphabet backwards in Swahili.
Yes, you did just back from Eden bro; and yes, you are a fool. However, it is not about how many home runs you have, it is about how many times you go up to swing. Right? Just a confident booster for myself. Swing for the fences, aim for the moon, hitch a wagon to a star......
THE PHATOM POST
My friend told me that I wrote some post about why guys do not really want to be friends with girls. I have never written such a post. I have talked with him about it, maybe in passing, or a short text at four in the morning, but I have not tackled this straight on. Here it is. Thrilling, I know, like the seventh Rocky that is coming out soon... The Expendables. Good ol' Sly.
Take what I say with a grain of salt.
FACT: Boys, over the age of eight, do not want to be friends with girls.
1. When boys turn eight they can choose right from wrong. Therefore, they gain a knowledge and understanding that being friends with a girl sucks. Unless they have homosexual tendencies. Wait that is wrong. So, it is a double negative and shouldn't exist. Glad we cleared that up.
a. Girls cannot belch, throw, fart, eat, pee, run, talk, or do any other daily activity like a boy. Sexiest? Yes. Because there are two sexes. One is more prone to other skills than the other. Pretty obvious.
b. Girls do not like to be silly and stupid as much a boys do. Meaning, girls silly is painting toe nails and giggling about Bobby's cute mole on his face. Guys silliness is throwing pennies at cars and making fun other of each other. Girls mature much faster.
2. Men were designed to be attracted to girls, and visa versa. IE Scarlet Johansen. Brad Pitt.
a. I have had a crush on a girl since I can remember. When I was in the "special school", I crushed mad on my teacher. Then it was Jess, then Crystal, then Cindy, then Rachel, then Cindy again, then Ashley and Kiley... this can go on till right now. Boys have the hots for ladies all the time. HARDWIRED INTO US. Take a physiology or human sexuality class.
3. Would you rather watch how to lose a guy in ten days or you've got mail. Neither? Oh, sorry, that is what she wants to watch tonight for the hang out, while your man friends are tipping back on dew and watching Walker Texas Ranger. OUCH. Have fun. Maybe you should put some moisturizer on your hands too.
4. Watch Just Friends. He hated being her friend. He loved that blonde like I love raspberry jam. And I LOVE raspberry jam, especially on toast. What happens in the end. Seals the deal.
If you are still not convinced, then I have not done my job. Ask a man. Ask Jeeves. Ask your mother. I bet she married her best friend. Yeah, cause he was never her friend. She thought that... but he didn't, now you exist. Thank your dad next time you see him. Say, "Father, thank you for not allowing yourself to stay in the friends zone. You have done society a great service. I owe my life to you and will now dedicate it to you. I will make myself a successful person in this world and contribute to the community in which I live. I will be a an outstanding citizen. I will make a difference in more ways than you can now imagine or dream. You are my hero."
I sure hope Bud Light makes a Real Men of Genius commercial about the saps that believe being friends with girls is cool. Ok. Said that wrong. Guys just don't want to be friends. They want more than swapping stories about... whatever girls like to share with boys... and not cuddling while watching a movie. Boys want love; aka coodies.
Spitting Game
It is an art. It is a gift. It can be worked on and enhanced, much like any muscle or skill, but we all have built in limits. Hitting on the ladies is serious skill. I know, I know, here we go again with another post about girls and dating. Sorry, but they are one of the most fascinating subjects that I face on a regular basis.
I've been chasing girls since I was a kindergartner. I remember when the girls tagged me, I would feel a shot through my heart. Butterflies exploded in a glorious array of colors and lights inside of my chest. And that was just a tag. So, maybe, just maybe, you can understand the type of feelings that are released when I am with them. Euphoric? Maybe too much. Suffice it to say, happy.
What really got me think about this is being in the land of milk and honey. Provo, UT. Young beautiful women are everywhere. The other night we were at a campfire. I listened in on a conversation between some dude and a young lady.
(Names have been changed, because who is named Orlee?)
"Hey, good to see you Orlee."
"Yeah! How are you?" the usual introduction.. yada yada... you could care less about that. After several minutes of talking about garbage...
"Orlee, I think I'm going to head out." No reaction from her other than... "Ok, good to see you. Later." The man was confused. She wasn't biting on his hint. She didn't fight for him, asking him to stick around. He wanted, "OH NO! Dooooonnnn'tttttt leave!!!!!" He leaves though, head bowed down.
Suddenly, from the dark, maybe seven minutes later, homeboy is back. And 'b-lines' it for Orlee. "Oh, you're back?" She says, obviously confused. "Yeah.... I just" bogus excuses... Then the first date questions are launched. The guy is sending out the same old trash that cavemen used. Which is not game. Just watch Hitch (because that is the Bible of dating). "What is your favorite color? What is your favorite movie? What calling in the ward do you have?"
BLAH BLAH BLAH. Right Kesha?
"So, just hush baby, shut up. Heard enough. Stop, stop, stop talking that. Blah, blah, blah think you'll be getting this? Nah, nah, nah. Not in the back of my car, car, car. If you keep talking that blah, blah, blah, blah, blah." Terrible song, but comes close to what I am getting at
Just a bunch of filler words and questions. It made me nauseas. The man was trying so hard to create a conversation. He even said, "Oh, what is something exciting we could talk about next." PALEASE. Dude, be you. Just be you.
I am no expert. I do not pretend to be. I struggle getting a girls number. I usually just send a friend to do it or just stare at the girl. I do know one truth, girls like real. They like the real person, the personality, the drive, the inner being, the person underneath the skin shell that is trying to achieve life's purpose. That is the great secret.
I do not think there is a great one liner that slays any woman. I doubt blonde headed blue eyed men are better looking than any other man (besides redheads. Ugly, like sin). And I know buying a fish, as a gift, is a bad idea, they always die. A fish cannot be the symbol of a relationship.... Can anyone define omen or foreshadowing for the fool who buys a fish for his girl? Unless its a tiger shark. That is what I like to call passionate. I lost my train of thought....
Oh real. When you are real, then you'll really want to know the real them. It won't be this facade that we often put up. A refreshing idea right? Be you. The army is right, be all you can be. Unlock your potential by being yourself.
I've been chasing girls since I was a kindergartner. I remember when the girls tagged me, I would feel a shot through my heart. Butterflies exploded in a glorious array of colors and lights inside of my chest. And that was just a tag. So, maybe, just maybe, you can understand the type of feelings that are released when I am with them. Euphoric? Maybe too much. Suffice it to say, happy.
What really got me think about this is being in the land of milk and honey. Provo, UT. Young beautiful women are everywhere. The other night we were at a campfire. I listened in on a conversation between some dude and a young lady.
(Names have been changed, because who is named Orlee?)
"Hey, good to see you Orlee."
"Yeah! How are you?" the usual introduction.. yada yada... you could care less about that. After several minutes of talking about garbage...
"Orlee, I think I'm going to head out." No reaction from her other than... "Ok, good to see you. Later." The man was confused. She wasn't biting on his hint. She didn't fight for him, asking him to stick around. He wanted, "OH NO! Dooooonnnn'tttttt leave!!!!!" He leaves though, head bowed down.
Suddenly, from the dark, maybe seven minutes later, homeboy is back. And 'b-lines' it for Orlee. "Oh, you're back?" She says, obviously confused. "Yeah.... I just" bogus excuses... Then the first date questions are launched. The guy is sending out the same old trash that cavemen used. Which is not game. Just watch Hitch (because that is the Bible of dating). "What is your favorite color? What is your favorite movie? What calling in the ward do you have?"
BLAH BLAH BLAH. Right Kesha?
"So, just hush baby, shut up. Heard enough. Stop, stop, stop talking that. Blah, blah, blah think you'll be getting this? Nah, nah, nah. Not in the back of my car, car, car. If you keep talking that blah, blah, blah, blah, blah." Terrible song, but comes close to what I am getting at
Just a bunch of filler words and questions. It made me nauseas. The man was trying so hard to create a conversation. He even said, "Oh, what is something exciting we could talk about next." PALEASE. Dude, be you. Just be you.
I am no expert. I do not pretend to be. I struggle getting a girls number. I usually just send a friend to do it or just stare at the girl. I do know one truth, girls like real. They like the real person, the personality, the drive, the inner being, the person underneath the skin shell that is trying to achieve life's purpose. That is the great secret.
I do not think there is a great one liner that slays any woman. I doubt blonde headed blue eyed men are better looking than any other man (besides redheads. Ugly, like sin). And I know buying a fish, as a gift, is a bad idea, they always die. A fish cannot be the symbol of a relationship.... Can anyone define omen or foreshadowing for the fool who buys a fish for his girl? Unless its a tiger shark. That is what I like to call passionate. I lost my train of thought....
Oh real. When you are real, then you'll really want to know the real them. It won't be this facade that we often put up. A refreshing idea right? Be you. The army is right, be all you can be. Unlock your potential by being yourself.
The game.
I just had one of the worst nights of my life. All b/c of a girl.
In a nutshell.
The day started out grand. I went shooting with this girl, we'll call her Becky to make things simple. Anyhow. I went clay pigeon shooting with Becky. It was fun. I had a great time. Hit some baseballs in the afternoon with the same chick and some friends. My day was going grand. In the evening I had an enjoyable time playing on my friends softball team. I had a pretty good game too. I decided that I wanted to kick it with this girl again. Maybe see what happened. She seemed like a way cool girl. And I had put myself out there enough to let her know that I was interested.
We kicked it. Played some cards, watched a funny animated film, then talked. I tend to lean towards the easier route. If she is into me I am into her. I've never been good at chasing... and looking at the day in retrospect I see why. On the surface it looks like a good solid day. WRONG. Dead wrong. I did so many things wrong.
First off, I kicked it with this girl for more than several hours, meaning more than 3. Bad move man. I know that rules are important to dating. I used to think, "Screw these unofficial rules man. They are for dudes that just want tail. Go with the flow." Not any more man. They are a safeguard. The protect suckers like me.
Second bad move: I always assume. Now, I know you have to have confidence. You should feel like a million bucks, but just because you think every girl wants some, doesn't mean it is true. It has been my sad experience, that it isn't true. I always assume that I can read people. I have not a clue. I can't figure people out more than I can figure out the chemical formula to the element that Iron Man invented. I assumed that this chick was interested. I mean, she text me saying that she wanted to hang out. She never said that she didn't want to hang out. However, I am probably the only option, or one of the few options she has. Girls think that guys just want to be friends. Sure we like a girl or two we can get back scratches from or some advice, but those are usually the girls that have made the rounds, and we figured that it wouldn't work. Becky probably just wanted some entertainment. She was bored, needed something new.
Third: I gave way too much. I didn't play hard to get. I practically told her that I liked her. Terrible. I do not know her that well (once again I assumed that she was tight), and girls love to chase (assuming that she liked me). The morning shoot was expensive, shells and clay pigeons aren't just handed out. Remember, this was the first time we hung out alone. Call it a date if you want. I didn't even test the waters. I dove right in. During the shoot we made a bet about snow cones. I won... but guess who ended up paying? Me. I AM A SUCKER. Another example, that has nothing to do with money cause I am sounding really cheap right now... I was nice. I was sweet. Not mean. When that feeling isn't being reciprocated back, that has to tell you something. When your handing out flowers and they are dishing out punches, that has to make you wonder. What the hell is this? You shouldn't have to ask them to be sweet. Shouldn't that just be there.
Here is the curve ball. She came to my softball game and cheered. She texted me and said that we should hang out. But when ever I got close, or there was physical contact, an odd feeling shot into the room. The feeling was almost like a shot from the doctor. Ugh. Even thinking about that shot makes me shiver. She was rude to me as well. The jokes weren't even cute or flirtatious. Just rude. They got annoying. There wasn't chill and all is good vibe. It wasn't easy to be there. I felt like I had worn out my welcome, yet she had invited me. It was awful.
I am too nice and sincere. I really want to know the person for who they are and them me, in the matter of minutes. I want there to be trust, but I am only fooling myself. Completely fooling myself. I put myself out there way too much. I tend to do that, but I never learn my lesson. I don't know when I'll figure it out, but hopefully sooner than later. At the same time, this type of "give it your all son" attitude has helped me eliminate the girls that aren't worth my time. I am trying too hard. Some guys just have it-- the mojo. As well as the intuition to know which girl will be worth their time. I have neither. I hope someone makes a rule book I can follow so I can nail this down once and for all.
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