I didn't write this piece but I found it amusing and thought I would share.
It really puts into perspective what guys have to deal with.
This is the first time I’ve ever seen you - and that car. I wonder if this
is your first day on campus, I hope you talk to me. I really like that car.
Everybody loves me. I’m beautiful and everyone tells me this, so naturally I
don’t appreciate it and don’t put any effort into my relationships.
I don’t have to.
I’ll just sit here, looking pretty, and everyone will come to me.
I have, like, the cutest little phone!
And I’ll spend my time reading and answering all the texts that
all the people who adore me have sent in the last five minutes.
You will make the first move.
Finally, you’ve approached me! Now you have to say The Right Thing.
Here’s the catch: I don’t even know what The Right Thing is! Isn’t this fun?
Just talk about anything until you’ve hit my emotional G spot.
Some advice? Don’t be too nice, but don’t be a jerk.
Don’t be too laid back, but don’t be too aggressive.
Don’t focus on me too much, as that would be desperate, but
don’t focus on yourself too much, either, as that would be selfish.
Got it?
If you do things right, it should feel like you’re walking on a tightrope
over shark infested waters and juggling at the same time.
Don’t let me tell you what to do, because I need to feel you’re in
control of the situation.
That way, if anything goes wrong, I can blame it on you.
After I’ve given you the cold shoulder and runaround for a week
and a half or so, I’m going to reward you with the sheer pleasure of
taking me out to dinner and conversation...your treat, of course.
I’m going to order the most expensive thing on the menu and eat
only a third of it.
Then I’m going to talk to you about myself, my family, myself, the last item of
clothing I bought, my interests, my tastes, myself, the cute little thing my
roommate did the other day, and myself.
At the end of the night when you take me home.
What’s with this car? Where’s the car that made me first see you?
I’m going to hug you and tell you that I’m not ready for
anything serious, and I’d rather be friends.
When the aloof, insensitive guy I’m on and off with ****s all over me again,
I’m going to come crying to you and try to use you to wipe it off. After all,
I bet you’re a good listener.
Nice guys are totally emotional toilet paper.
Oh, and since we’ll be friends by then, I’ll see if I can convince you into
moving some couches for me that next Saturday.
I’ll have another “friend” lined up that day; I think you guys will get along great!
This might make you angry, the only emotion you will ever be
allowed to express again, unless you want to be viewed as a sissy.
However, you better not let me catch wind of your attitude, or
I’ll be forced to tell my girlfriends that you’re “psycho” and
that you’re only angry that I wouldn’t sleep with you.
So be a good sport, OK?
If you have a problem with any of this, it’s not because I’m cruel, dishonest or self-serving.
It’s because you either hate women, have a small **** and/or deep-seated
feelings of sexual inadequacy etc.
After I’ve notified the Women’s Center at the university that you’ve been harassing me,
and the police come to arrest you, and I’ve pressed charges, and you’ve been expelled;
my girlfriends will pick me up to go shopping so I can take my mind off of
how much all of this has hurt me, and how traumatized I am by your creepiness.
Classic!
It really puts into perspective what guys have to deal with.
This is the first time I’ve ever seen you - and that car. I wonder if this
is your first day on campus, I hope you talk to me. I really like that car.
Everybody loves me. I’m beautiful and everyone tells me this, so naturally I
don’t appreciate it and don’t put any effort into my relationships.
I don’t have to.
I’ll just sit here, looking pretty, and everyone will come to me.
I have, like, the cutest little phone!
And I’ll spend my time reading and answering all the texts that
all the people who adore me have sent in the last five minutes.
You will make the first move.
Finally, you’ve approached me! Now you have to say The Right Thing.
Here’s the catch: I don’t even know what The Right Thing is! Isn’t this fun?
Just talk about anything until you’ve hit my emotional G spot.
Some advice? Don’t be too nice, but don’t be a jerk.
Don’t be too laid back, but don’t be too aggressive.
Don’t focus on me too much, as that would be desperate, but
don’t focus on yourself too much, either, as that would be selfish.
Got it?
If you do things right, it should feel like you’re walking on a tightrope
over shark infested waters and juggling at the same time.
Don’t let me tell you what to do, because I need to feel you’re in
control of the situation.
That way, if anything goes wrong, I can blame it on you.
After I’ve given you the cold shoulder and runaround for a week
and a half or so, I’m going to reward you with the sheer pleasure of
taking me out to dinner and conversation...your treat, of course.
I’m going to order the most expensive thing on the menu and eat
only a third of it.
Then I’m going to talk to you about myself, my family, myself, the last item of
clothing I bought, my interests, my tastes, myself, the cute little thing my
roommate did the other day, and myself.
At the end of the night when you take me home.
What’s with this car? Where’s the car that made me first see you?
I’m going to hug you and tell you that I’m not ready for
anything serious, and I’d rather be friends.
When the aloof, insensitive guy I’m on and off with ****s all over me again,
I’m going to come crying to you and try to use you to wipe it off. After all,
I bet you’re a good listener.
Nice guys are totally emotional toilet paper.
Oh, and since we’ll be friends by then, I’ll see if I can convince you into
moving some couches for me that next Saturday.
I’ll have another “friend” lined up that day; I think you guys will get along great!
This might make you angry, the only emotion you will ever be
allowed to express again, unless you want to be viewed as a sissy.
However, you better not let me catch wind of your attitude, or
I’ll be forced to tell my girlfriends that you’re “psycho” and
that you’re only angry that I wouldn’t sleep with you.
So be a good sport, OK?
If you have a problem with any of this, it’s not because I’m cruel, dishonest or self-serving.
It’s because you either hate women, have a small **** and/or deep-seated
feelings of sexual inadequacy etc.
After I’ve notified the Women’s Center at the university that you’ve been harassing me,
and the police come to arrest you, and I’ve pressed charges, and you’ve been expelled;
my girlfriends will pick me up to go shopping so I can take my mind off of
how much all of this has hurt me, and how traumatized I am by your creepiness.
Classic!