Thursday, June 11, 2009
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Where The Hell Did All The Nice Girls Go?
To the nice girls who are overlooked, who become friends and nothing more, who spend hours fixating upon their looks and their personalities and their actions because it must be they who are doing something wrong.
This is for the girls who do not give it up on the first date, who do not want to play mind games, who provide a comforting hug and a supportive audience for a story they’ve heard a thousand times.
This is for the girls who understand that they are not perfect and that the guys they are interested in are not either; for the girls who flirt and laugh and worry and obsess over the slightest glance, whisper, touch, because somehow they can keep alive that hope that maybe… maybe this time he would have understood. This is a homage to the girls who laugh loud and often, who are comfortable in skirts and sweats and combat boots, who care more than they should for guys who do not deserve their attention.
This is for those girls who have been in the trenches, who have watched other girls time and time again fake up and make up and fuck up the guys in their lives without saying a word.
This is for the girls who have been there from the beginning and have heard the right words of advice, from “there are plenty of fish in the sea,” to “time heals all wounds.” This is to honour those girls who know that guys are just as scared as they are, who know that they deserve better, who are seeking to find it.
This is for the girls who have never been in love, but know that it is an experience that they do not want to miss out on. For the girls who have sought a night with friends and been greeted by a night of catcalling, rude L0VESzs and explicit invitations that they would not have experienced.
This is for the girls who have spent their weekends sitting on the sidelines of a beer pong tournament or a case race, or playing Florence Nightingale for a vomiting guy friend or a comatose crush, who have received a drunk phone call just before dawn from someone who does not care enough to invite them over but is still willing to pass out in their bed.
This is for the girls who have left lyrics from sad songs in their away messages, who have tried to make someone understand through a subliminally appealing profile, who have time and time again dropped their male friend hint after hint only to watch him chasing after the first girl in a skirt.
This is for the girls who have been told that they are too good or too smart or too pretty, who have been given compliments as a way of breaking off a relationship, who have ever been told they are only wanted as a friend.
This one is for the girls who you can take home to mom, but would not because it is easier to sleep with a whore than foster a relationship; this is for the girls who have been led on by words and kisses and touches, all of which were either only true for the moment, or never real to begin with.
This is for the girls who have allowed a guy into their head and heart and bed, only to discover that he is just not ready, he is just not over her, he is just not looking to be tied down; this is for the girls who believe the excuses because it is easier to believe that it is not that they do not want you, it is that they do not want anyone.
This is for the girls who have had their hearts broken and their hopes dashed by someone too cavalier to have cared in the first place; this is for the nights spent dissecting every word and syllable and inflection in his speech, for the nights when you’ve returned home alone, for the nights when you’ve seen from across the room him leaning a little too close, or standing a little too near, or talking a little too softly for the girl he is with to be a random hook-up.
This is for the girls who have endured party after party in his presence, finally having realised that it was not that he did not want a relationship: it was that he did not want you. I honour you for the night his dog died or his grandmother died or his little brother crashed his car and you held him, thinking that if you only comforted him just right, or said the right words, or rubbed his back in the right way then perhaps he’d realize what it was that he already had. This is for the night you realized that it would never happen, and the sunrise you saw the next morning after failing to sleep.
This is for the “I like you, so let’s still be friends” comment after you read more into a situation than he ever intended; this is for never realising that when you choose friends, you seldom choose those which make you cry yourself to sleep. This is for the hugs you have received from your female friends, for the nights they have reassured you that you are beautiful and intelligent and amazing and loyal and truly worthy of a great guy; this is for the despair you all felt as you sat in the aftermath of your tears, knowing that that night the only companionship you’d have was with a pillow and your teddy bear.
This is for the girls who have been used and abused, who have endured what he was giving because at least he was giving something; this is for the stupidity of the nights we have believed that something was better than nothing, though his something was nothing we would have ever wanted.
This is for the girls who have been satisfied with too little and who have learned never to expect anything more: for the girls who do not think that they deserve more, because they have been conditioned for so long to accept the scraps thrown to them by guys.
This is what I don’t understand. Men sit and question and whine that girls are only attracted to the mean guys, the guys who berate them and belittle them and do not appreciate them and do not want them; who use them for sex and think of little else than where their next conquest will be made. Men complain that they never meet nice girls, girls who are genuinely interested and compelling, who are intelligent and sweet and smart and beautiful; men despair that no good women want to share in their lives, that girls play mind games, that girls love to keep them hanging. Yet, men, I ask you: Were you to meet one of these genuinely interested, thrillingly compelling, interesting and intelligent and sweet and beautiful and smart girls, were you to give her your number and wait for her to call… And if you were to get a call from her the next day and she, in her truthful, loyal, intelligent and straightforward nice girl fashion, were to tell you that she finds you intriguing and attractive and interesting and worth her time and perhaps material from which she could fashion a boyfriend, would you or would you not immediately call your friends to tell them of the “stalker chick” you’d met the night prior, who called you and wore her heart on her sleeve and told the truth? And would you, or would you not, refuse to make plans with her, speak with her, see her again, and once again return to the bar or club or party scene and search once more for this “nice girl” who you just cannot seem to find? Because therein lies the truth, guys: We nice girls are everywhere. But you are not looking for a nice girl. You are not looking for someone genuinely interested in your inter-mural basketball game, or your anatomy midterm grade, or that argument you keep having with your father; you are looking for a quick fix, a night when you can pretend to have a connection with another human which is just as disposable as the condom you were using during it.
So do not say you are on the lookout for nice girls, guys, when you pass us up on every step you take. Sometimes we go undercover; sometimes we go in disguise: sometimes when that girl in the low cut shirt or the too tight miniskirt would not answer your catcalls, sometimes you’re looking at a nice girl in whore’s clothing - - we might say we like the attention, we might blush and giggle and turn back to our friends, but we’re all thinking the same thing: “This isn’t me. Tomorrow morning, I’ll be wearing a tee-shirt and flannel shorts, I’ll have slept alone and I’ll be making my hung-over best friend breakfast. See through the disguise. See me.” You never do. Why? Because you only see the exterior, you only see the slutty girl who welcomes those advances. You don’t want the nice girl. So don’t say you’re looking for a relationship. Relationships take time and energy and intent, three things we’re willing to extend - - but in return, we’re looking for compassion and loyalty and trust, three things you never seem willing to express. Maybe nice guys finish last, but in the race they’re running they’re chasing after the whores and the sluts and the easy-target. The nice girls are waiting at the finish line with water and towels and a congratulatory hug (and yes, if she’s a nice girl and she likes you, the sweatiness won’t matter), hoping against hope that maybe you’ll realize that they’re the ones that you want at the end of that silly race.
This is for the girls who do not give it up on the first date, who do not want to play mind games, who provide a comforting hug and a supportive audience for a story they’ve heard a thousand times.
This is for the girls who understand that they are not perfect and that the guys they are interested in are not either; for the girls who flirt and laugh and worry and obsess over the slightest glance, whisper, touch, because somehow they can keep alive that hope that maybe… maybe this time he would have understood. This is a homage to the girls who laugh loud and often, who are comfortable in skirts and sweats and combat boots, who care more than they should for guys who do not deserve their attention.
This is for those girls who have been in the trenches, who have watched other girls time and time again fake up and make up and fuck up the guys in their lives without saying a word.
This is for the girls who have been there from the beginning and have heard the right words of advice, from “there are plenty of fish in the sea,” to “time heals all wounds.” This is to honour those girls who know that guys are just as scared as they are, who know that they deserve better, who are seeking to find it.
This is for the girls who have never been in love, but know that it is an experience that they do not want to miss out on. For the girls who have sought a night with friends and been greeted by a night of catcalling, rude L0VESzs and explicit invitations that they would not have experienced.
This is for the girls who have spent their weekends sitting on the sidelines of a beer pong tournament or a case race, or playing Florence Nightingale for a vomiting guy friend or a comatose crush, who have received a drunk phone call just before dawn from someone who does not care enough to invite them over but is still willing to pass out in their bed.
This is for the girls who have left lyrics from sad songs in their away messages, who have tried to make someone understand through a subliminally appealing profile, who have time and time again dropped their male friend hint after hint only to watch him chasing after the first girl in a skirt.
This is for the girls who have been told that they are too good or too smart or too pretty, who have been given compliments as a way of breaking off a relationship, who have ever been told they are only wanted as a friend.
This one is for the girls who you can take home to mom, but would not because it is easier to sleep with a whore than foster a relationship; this is for the girls who have been led on by words and kisses and touches, all of which were either only true for the moment, or never real to begin with.
This is for the girls who have allowed a guy into their head and heart and bed, only to discover that he is just not ready, he is just not over her, he is just not looking to be tied down; this is for the girls who believe the excuses because it is easier to believe that it is not that they do not want you, it is that they do not want anyone.
This is for the girls who have had their hearts broken and their hopes dashed by someone too cavalier to have cared in the first place; this is for the nights spent dissecting every word and syllable and inflection in his speech, for the nights when you’ve returned home alone, for the nights when you’ve seen from across the room him leaning a little too close, or standing a little too near, or talking a little too softly for the girl he is with to be a random hook-up.
This is for the girls who have endured party after party in his presence, finally having realised that it was not that he did not want a relationship: it was that he did not want you. I honour you for the night his dog died or his grandmother died or his little brother crashed his car and you held him, thinking that if you only comforted him just right, or said the right words, or rubbed his back in the right way then perhaps he’d realize what it was that he already had. This is for the night you realized that it would never happen, and the sunrise you saw the next morning after failing to sleep.
This is for the “I like you, so let’s still be friends” comment after you read more into a situation than he ever intended; this is for never realising that when you choose friends, you seldom choose those which make you cry yourself to sleep. This is for the hugs you have received from your female friends, for the nights they have reassured you that you are beautiful and intelligent and amazing and loyal and truly worthy of a great guy; this is for the despair you all felt as you sat in the aftermath of your tears, knowing that that night the only companionship you’d have was with a pillow and your teddy bear.
This is for the girls who have been used and abused, who have endured what he was giving because at least he was giving something; this is for the stupidity of the nights we have believed that something was better than nothing, though his something was nothing we would have ever wanted.
This is for the girls who have been satisfied with too little and who have learned never to expect anything more: for the girls who do not think that they deserve more, because they have been conditioned for so long to accept the scraps thrown to them by guys.
This is what I don’t understand. Men sit and question and whine that girls are only attracted to the mean guys, the guys who berate them and belittle them and do not appreciate them and do not want them; who use them for sex and think of little else than where their next conquest will be made. Men complain that they never meet nice girls, girls who are genuinely interested and compelling, who are intelligent and sweet and smart and beautiful; men despair that no good women want to share in their lives, that girls play mind games, that girls love to keep them hanging. Yet, men, I ask you: Were you to meet one of these genuinely interested, thrillingly compelling, interesting and intelligent and sweet and beautiful and smart girls, were you to give her your number and wait for her to call… And if you were to get a call from her the next day and she, in her truthful, loyal, intelligent and straightforward nice girl fashion, were to tell you that she finds you intriguing and attractive and interesting and worth her time and perhaps material from which she could fashion a boyfriend, would you or would you not immediately call your friends to tell them of the “stalker chick” you’d met the night prior, who called you and wore her heart on her sleeve and told the truth? And would you, or would you not, refuse to make plans with her, speak with her, see her again, and once again return to the bar or club or party scene and search once more for this “nice girl” who you just cannot seem to find? Because therein lies the truth, guys: We nice girls are everywhere. But you are not looking for a nice girl. You are not looking for someone genuinely interested in your inter-mural basketball game, or your anatomy midterm grade, or that argument you keep having with your father; you are looking for a quick fix, a night when you can pretend to have a connection with another human which is just as disposable as the condom you were using during it.
So do not say you are on the lookout for nice girls, guys, when you pass us up on every step you take. Sometimes we go undercover; sometimes we go in disguise: sometimes when that girl in the low cut shirt or the too tight miniskirt would not answer your catcalls, sometimes you’re looking at a nice girl in whore’s clothing - - we might say we like the attention, we might blush and giggle and turn back to our friends, but we’re all thinking the same thing: “This isn’t me. Tomorrow morning, I’ll be wearing a tee-shirt and flannel shorts, I’ll have slept alone and I’ll be making my hung-over best friend breakfast. See through the disguise. See me.” You never do. Why? Because you only see the exterior, you only see the slutty girl who welcomes those advances. You don’t want the nice girl. So don’t say you’re looking for a relationship. Relationships take time and energy and intent, three things we’re willing to extend - - but in return, we’re looking for compassion and loyalty and trust, three things you never seem willing to express. Maybe nice guys finish last, but in the race they’re running they’re chasing after the whores and the sluts and the easy-target. The nice girls are waiting at the finish line with water and towels and a congratulatory hug (and yes, if she’s a nice girl and she likes you, the sweatiness won’t matter), hoping against hope that maybe you’ll realize that they’re the ones that you want at the end of that silly race.
--Wei Qi
A girl’s point of view on the matter of where the hell did all the nice girls go.
Friday, April 3, 2009
6 Men You Shouldn't Date
#1. Rebound Guy
Knowing how bummed I've been since my ex, Claudia, left for Europe, my buddy tried to set me up with his "fine coworker." Very kind of him, but I declined. With my heart stuck in international customs, there's no way I could make a connection. Not that I wasn't tempted. We men secretly hope we'll never have to deal with our feelings and instead can "fix" our sadness with a new woman. Problem is, we're always comparing her to the ex.
#2. Disappearing Guy
Some seemingly normal guys have a bad habit of vanishing. Excuses like "work's really busy" may be true, but there's often something else going on. My old roommate tried to woo his new girlfriend while still dating his old one. I also know someone who told a woman he was single in New York, although he was married in Ohio. Both guys checked out for days at a time.
When you're just starting to date, it's not like you're tracking a person's every movement. Still, the giveaway is erratic contact. Is he in touch every day and then suddenly MIA? Does he often cancel plans? Or does he suddenly want to meet up in an hour, after not calling all week? Beware.
#3. Slick Guy
With his sporty car, high-tech cell phone, and Swedish designer toothbrush, my college roommate managed to hide his insecurity behind hip stuff. He never let women get close for fear they'd find him out. So women wound up feeling rejected when HE was the one who sucked.
My advice: If his life looks like a magazine spread, steer clear. Say what you will about the guy who has a painting of poker-playing dogs or a mountain of laundry, but I promise you this: He's real.
#4. Rude Guy
I'm amazed at what men get away with. A partial list of nasty moves I've witnessed: checking out the waitress, fiddling with a BlackBerry during dinner, asking the cute bartender for her number when his date is in the bathroom. If a man lets the door slam shut instead of opening it for you, make that all the closure you need.
#5. Grabby Guy
Hands on thighs, stroking things that didn't ask to be stroked, sensual innuendos when you barely know each other -- he may try to explain these things with an "Oh, I'm so attracted to you I can't help it" line. But no matter how attractive you are, he CAN help it. And if you're not getting the respect you want early on, he probably won't surprise you with it later.
#6. Last Year's Guy
Long nights and a fear of being single forever can make going back to an ex seem mighty attractive. I've been guilty of it twice, both during lonely times in the dead of winter. Recycling romance seemed far easier than the unknown, and it was... for the two months before we rediscovered exactly why we broke up in the first place. What's the lesson here? Move forward, not back. And know that it's better to be out there looking than stuck on a couch with some guy you're just going to wind up dumping anyway. He might be happy, but you deserve more.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
The Six Biggest Dating Mistakes Women Make
#1: They go on too many unproductive dates. "If you know how to date, and you're meeting losers, get off the market and go into dating detox. Clean your energy up so those people don't ask you out anymore. The problem is we women are very impatient. We want it now. Instant gratification! Sometimes the best single men are worth waiting for. You might get one good date a year, versus 100 bad ones, but he's worth it."
#2: They go out with their girlfriends in the hopes of meeting guys. "When you're with your girlfriends, you're not approachable. They're scared. Single men are very timid. I have this theory: Women who travel in packs do not attract. Men who are quality aren't going to go in there and ask you out while your girlfriends are standing right there -- he could get shot down. So it's a really good idea, at about 4 or 4:30 P.M., to go to the bar: Sit at the bar, have a drink, get an hors d'oeuvre, read a mutual-gender book like "The Da Vinci Code," know the score on TV, and pretend you're busy. You're reading a book, you're eating an hors d'oeuvre, you're meeting a friend -- and then you're more approachable because you're by yourself."
#3: They think a guy will always like them if he just gets to know them. "A guy knows right away if he's attracted to you or not. There's no warming up. Men are microwaves, women are Crockpots. Women heat up very slowly. They take in information; they decipher it and download it into their computer. Men know in one second, yes or no."
#4: They overshare on the date. "Single women are so trusting that they tell too much information about themselves. They pump and dump -- they baggage dump! They say, "I'm all relaxed, now he's my best friend and I can tell him whatever I want." They're nervous, and they tell their life story -- and sometimes their life story is not a good story to tell."
#5: They don't let the guy talk enough. "The way you talk on a date should be like a tennis match, but the guy should talk three times as often. It should be 3:1. He volleys, volleys, volleys, now you talk. You can answer the question every time he volleys, but then you lead him with your question, and it should be topical to the conversation he's having. You don't say, 'Hey, do you want to get married? Hey, what's your ex-girlfriend like?' You don't do that. You lead with what he's talking about."
#6: They forget their manners. "The key to a good date is to smile. Engage with eye contact. Let him lead and then you compliment little things along the way. If he orders the dessert and you guys share it, say, 'Oh, this is the best chocolate mousse, I'm so glad you picked this.' Manners are key. Most people do not have manners."
By Dating Blogger, Erin Meanley for Glamour
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Mom & Dad, Please, Please Don't Divorce!
An elderly man in Mumbai calls his son in New York and says,
'I hate to ruin your day son, but I have to tell you that your mother and I are getting a divorce; 35 years of marriage... and that much misery is enough!'
'Dad, what are you talking about?' the son screams.
'We can't stand the sight of each other any longer,' the old man says.
'We're sick of each other, and I'm sick of talking about this, so you call your sister in Hong Kong and tell her!'
Frantic, the son calls his sister, who explodes on the phone.
'Like heck they're getting divorced,' she shouts, 'I'll take care of this.'
She calls Mumbai immediately, and screams at the old man, 'You are not getting divorced. Don't do a single thing until I get there. I'm calling my brother back, and we'll both be there tomorrow. Until then , don't do a thing, DO YOU HEAR??' and she hangs up.
The old man hangs up his phone and turns to his wife.. 'Okay', he says, 'It's all set. They're both coming for our anniversary and paying their own airfare!!'
MORAL:
No man / woman is busy in this world all 365 days.
The sky is not going to fall down if you take few days LEAVE and meet your dear ones.
OFFICE WORK IS NOT EVERYTHING IN LIFE and MONEY MAKING IS NOT EVERYTHING IN LIFE.
'I hate to ruin your day son, but I have to tell you that your mother and I are getting a divorce; 35 years of marriage... and that much misery is enough!'
'Dad, what are you talking about?' the son screams.
'We can't stand the sight of each other any longer,' the old man says.
'We're sick of each other, and I'm sick of talking about this, so you call your sister in Hong Kong and tell her!'
Frantic, the son calls his sister, who explodes on the phone.
'Like heck they're getting divorced,' she shouts, 'I'll take care of this.'
She calls Mumbai immediately, and screams at the old man, 'You are not getting divorced. Don't do a single thing until I get there. I'm calling my brother back, and we'll both be there tomorrow. Until then , don't do a thing, DO YOU HEAR??' and she hangs up.
The old man hangs up his phone and turns to his wife.. 'Okay', he says, 'It's all set. They're both coming for our anniversary and paying their own airfare!!'
MORAL:
No man / woman is busy in this world all 365 days.
The sky is not going to fall down if you take few days LEAVE and meet your dear ones.
OFFICE WORK IS NOT EVERYTHING IN LIFE and MONEY MAKING IS NOT EVERYTHING IN LIFE.
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