I Want to Buy You Shoes. Not Really.
People are such sticklers for what's right and wrong to say on a date. Or what to/not to wear. Enthusiasm for strippers creates contempt. And honesty gets you ejected from the train one stop short of that.
Then again, there might be a reason why women react poorly to all of the above. Plus they hate manboobs.
Worth a read.
Bottoms Up, Over-Reachers.
5 comments:
Very interesting. Confused about your comment about honesty, though. Honesty keeps this train rolling.
So nice and such a feel-good article to read. :) Way to go!
Totally with you on honesty's importance, Miss Licious.
Seems to me this guy - as appalling as he probably actually is - had no way to win despite/because of his embarrassing honesty.
I dunno, even dating dunces need a little helping of benefit of the doubt.
Ach, I just liked the train metaphor and now I'm justifying it, that's all. He lost me with the bedazzled jeans.
I see contempt flow across the room as a buxom flashily-dressed stripper enters the bar and walks straight to a bar stool - not bothering to check out her competition as convention dictates. Soon there after a gentlemen or two approach much less cautiously than would towards your typical bundle of labels draped in a protective air of smugness. Ms Smug oozes contempt because she knows the typical fish will be wandering over to that lure and ignoring her palling offer of a relationship. Sure the male catch of the evening knows he has no chance at a lasting relationship with this stripper, but he does have a shot at a sweet dangle of bait on a very small hook. He knows he can gobble up the morsel and with all faith stumble headlong into a 'catch and release' program.
This bait has no need for emotional maintenance, cashflow calculations beyond a couple hundred or need to constantly remind himself, 'Happy Wife, Happy Life!" out of the dire need to survive a relationship.
So, yeah, contempt flows quickly across that lonely farm raised fish pond. However, the patient she-wolf in the room knows it will again fill with the recklessness of despair and a once again the queue of clumsy potential schlubs will line up at her barstool for her to happily flick and stomp back into insecurity, leaving her to sleep happily alone once again.
That's what I got from your post, Wombie!
Consider me wordless, Mr Nights.
I am without words...although I do like the concept of farm raised fish, especially WRT recent explorations of Plentyofthem.
Post a Comment