He is the thunder to your lightning, the bed to your breakfast, and the macaroni to your cheese. Your romance is the stuff of legends. The spark is an everlasting star, burning brightly in the quiet night while you cuddle in the comfort of your passion.
Until of course, he utters the words: “Do you want to go out?”
“Does it involve other people?” You ask with dread crawling up your spine, the passion sizzling a quick death.
“Of course it does!” he says eagerly and smiles with that adorable tilt to his mouth.
You start to contemplate killing your goldfish just to have an excuse to say no. It is terribly selfish I know, but being an introvert dating an extrovert can be one of the most challenging things one must face when the mere thought of engaging with other people already gives you a headache even though you haven’t actually engaged with anyone – yet. ‘Shudder’
Parties and gathering are an anxiety-laden roller coaster that leaves you gasping for air and wishing for a swift death. Or a cat to pet in the corner while whispering sweet nothings to yourself. They already think you have a few screws loose anyway, might as well add fuel to the already burning pyre.
We, as introverts, understand that you want to include us into your world. You want us to get to know your friends but you have SO MANY OF THEM. I swear, it’s like trying to become friends with everyone on Instagram. I have like 3, you have it easy. Trying to tell your 21 work friends apart from each other is like trying to take a photograph of an invisible object. Impossible.
You give in anyway. You go to that party, even though every voice in your head is screaming “NAY”. You want to be part of his world. You want to make him happy but every time you accompany him to something, it feels like you’re holding him back from having fun because he stays by your side feeling obligated to keep you company while you’re trying your damn best to blend in with the furniture.
Then he feels weird because you’re so quiet around his friends and family and everyone is kind of sneaking a glance at the weirdo sitting in the corner talking to herself. You start to feel guilty because you’re not engaging with his friends but the mere thought of talking to them makes your throat clamp up and your palms grow sweaty. It’s this endless, awkward loop with no end in sight.
Realise that you are not going to change. It is so fundamentally part of you because this is who you are. You are an introvert. A social vegan that avoids meet. You can’t magically change just because it’s important to him that you change. That said, you’ll try. You really will but at some point, he will either just have to accept you for who are you or move on. Being quiet is normal for you. It’s when you’re not quiet that they should start to worry because either a parasite has taken over your brain or you are forcing yourself to be something you’re not. Which is social. It is a swear word in our vocab.
Alas, not all is lost. It is entirely possible to coexist with your extroverted partner in a semi-peaceful manner. There will be times both you want to shake the stuffing out of each other, yelling “What in the blasted name is wrong with you!?” – wondering what the hell you were thinking falling for the other. Do keep in mind that your partner’s differences is exactly what attracted you to him in the first place. That and his butt. Let’s be honest here.
Communication is key and not having a knife nearby helps to alleviate the tension. Mostly. Compromise and meeting each other half way is the only way to make things work. You cannot allow yourself to lose what makes you, you, just to please them. You hate people. Your social batteries last maybe a few hours at most before you have to crawl into your cave and recharge while your partner can party into the wee hours of the night.
Which by the by makes them an alien. I mean seriously, watching them walk into a room and instantly connect with everyone is fucking creeping. Only an alien does that. How is he that fearless?? It takes me 31 one-on-one conversations just to be able to not awkwardly avoid the other person’s eyes every time I am in the same room with them. He, on the other hand, can walk up to a plant and be like “You should totally come to my braai next week” and the plant will be like: “Yeah sure dude, sounds great!”
Respecting these needs in each other is the first step to finding a balance that works for both of you. Every time he wants to go out it’s like a WHOLE THING. You have to mentally prepare yourself to physically go somewhere and be social for x – amount of hours. It’s horrifying and it takes a lot of internal pep talking just to get out the door. Add strangers to the mix and you have one special, anxious little snowflake, ready to bolt at the first sign of someone looking at them oddly.
This is usually where the bargaining comes in: “I’ll go with you to y event but we only stay for x amount of hours.” Your extroverted partner may become irritated but this is where the consideration and understanding part comes in. You are going out of your way to accompany him to an event that terrifies the living shit out of you just to make him happy. It’s like buying a damn diamond for a girl. It’s that big of an issue.
It sounds ridiculous, you don’t have to convince me, but it’s when he accept this part of you that you start to fall even more in love with him because he is really starting to get you. The majority of people enjoy socializing with other people and it is difficult when you’re an introvert to find someone that really understand your need to be alone sometimes. I am not breaking up with you. I want to go hide in a corner and eat cookies, ALONE, and then, having recharged my batteries I will come back to you and make you a happy human because I am a happy human.
Sometimes it happens that he drags your ass out to a dumb event and you really don’t want to go but you end having you a whole lot of fun. It’s times like these that you realise that this is why you like him.
It’s as simple as that. If you do it right, in the end, you actually appreciate all of the differences because you both balance each other out really well. It may not always be easy, but it definitely is always interesting.
I is an adult. I is not happy. Adulting is not fun. Adulting can go suck a frog foot. It’s the bills, the rent, the calling the doctor by yourself when you are sick. Doing your own laundry, doing your taxes, being responsible, feeding yourself and all the little things in between.
Being an adult is probably the dumbest thing I have ever done.
There is no manual, no how-to adult book with a definite answer which is handed to you when you turn 18. Hell, there isn’t even an official age when you are considered an adult. It all depends on your mental age, how many sea monkeys you can juggle at once, the state of the moon in alignment with the tree down the street and your cat’s mood. You could be 40 and still don’t know whether you’re actually considered an adult or not.
Is it when you move out then? Is it when you leave high school? Is it when you make your first doctor’s appointment all by yourself? Or do you still call and beg your mother to do it?
Perhaps Adult isn’t something you are but something you do. A verb and not a noun. You can be a grown ass woman/man and still beat the kids to the ice cream truck when you hear its ever annoying tune blasting down your street. Or ambling rather.
Undoubtedly the most important lesson and the first thing you must learn in order to start adulting properly is:
You are not that special
(But appreciate those who disagree with the above) The world does not revolve around you. Nobody cares about you except your parents, on your good days, and your best friends, maybe that one teacher that let you hide in the classroom during recess that one time as well.
People are too busy with their own problems to care that you accidentally placed the ice cream in the fridge and now it’s melted. Ranting about it on Facebook only serves as temporary 2 second amusement before the 2/1007 friends who bothered to read it, forget about it and move on with their own lives.
This directly ties to: Be okay with being alone
You do not need a girlfriend/boyfriend or an x amount of friends to be happy or fulfilled. Learn that there are going to be times that you’re going to want a watch movie and literally no one has time to accompany you. Eventually, you’re going to swallow your dread and go anyway. You’re going to stand there, alone, by yourself, waiting to enter the movie theatre. People are going to think you’re a loser because you’re standing there all by yourself with no one to talk to.
This is what they’re really thinking in some form or another: “I wonder if toasters are secretly alive and only pretending to be inanimate objects.”
Seriously. They are probably not even going to pay attention to you unless they secretly want to squeeze your marshmallows…
Learn to be domestic
Another moment when you may be jolted into being an adult is the day you run out of toilet paper when you need it the most. When you realise it is NOT an infinite resource and must be monitored like a bloody panda.
Food does not magically appear in your fridge and dust accumulates on every surface possible. You’ll soon be arming yourself with surface cleaner and 3 different colour rags because nothing scares dust more than a well put together grown up that knows how to adult like a pro. You’ll have to start creating grocery lists and forgetting them every time.
No one is going to remove spider bro, casually hanging in the corner of your room. You’ll either have to deal with him or burn down your house/apartment. A friendly neighbourhood lady, whose name you’ll never remember, isn’t going to be knocking on your door and asking you whether you accidentally spilled milk all over yourself and offer to do your laundry.
You are responsible for the dead things your cat brings into your house. In pieces. You are responsible for cleaning your dirty plates before ecosystems form on them and you accidentally breed a new strain of deadly, leg eating bacteria.
Luckily you are not alone. There are billions of people all over the world that have managed to successfully adult and not kill themselves in the process. If they can do it, so can you. Until you accidentally drop a bag of frozen peas on your foot and your world effectively ends in pain and misery.
Learn to cook. At least how to boil water. Learn to do your own laundry. Red and white do not go together unless you really like pink. Google is your friend.
Knowing that mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell, isn’t going to help you change the lightbulb or be a functioning adult.
To be continued…
“I am happy on my own.”
The moment you utter these words, the world seemingly goes up in flames as people reprimand you, lecture you and give you a serious talking to as to why such a statement is taboo. (I mean seriously if I have to hear one more old person tell me “You’re next.” at a wedding or whatever, I’m getting them back by subtly uttering the words “You’re next.” at someone’s funeral.)
It is impossible to be happy in your singlehood. Absolutely unspeakable. They utter as they give you this look. You have to have a boyfriend to be happy. You have to have a girlfriend to be happy. Anything less and suddenly you’re technically not a person.
People are marrying their pillows and you’re worried about me being alone for the rest of my life? I think I’m good thanks.
Why is it when people admit that they are single and that they’re happy to be that people stare at them disapprovingly. That they’re lectured and frowned at for daring to utter these words. Why is the notion so taboo? Does happiness not come from the self? Are you not the architect of your own life? So why is it when you express your lack of a relationship that suddenly it’s not okay?
Why are people so concerned about other’s relationship statuses in the first place? I blame Facebook. I think I’m going to write a strongly worded letter. With exclamation marks.
We live in a world where sex has become cheap and divorce the norm. Where the sanctity of marriage is no longer sacred. Finding someone to spend the rest of your life with, that will uplift you and make your happy is more difficult than finding a unicorn riding a unicycle, juggling tubs of ice cream.
They’d rather just bang you.
But you keep on trying because society expects you to. You sign up on dating site x and cast your net and wait. Or you go out, disguised as an outing with friends but secretly you are looking around. Eventually, after a few weeks, months or even a year, you finally meet someone promising.
You start to chat. Things look really favourable but you tell yourself that it’s only a conversation. You build a fortress around your heart and continuously stomp on the little flame that wants to ignite.
The flame of hope. Hope that you have finally met THE ONE. Hope that they like you just as much you like them. Hope that this thing between you will blossom into something beautiful. Hope that they will accept you for who you are. And help you find your missing screws. I’m pretty sure my imaginary friend hid them somewhere. Damn it Katherine.
You resist and you’re proud of yourself. You’re protecting your heart from breaking. Also your ass. Three words. Chocolate grief eating. Does that sentence even make any sense? Not the point.
As time wears on and you get to know the person on the other side of the screen. You throw everything that you are at this person expecting them to high tail and run but they don’t. They accept you and your toenail collection for who you are. You can no longer snuff the flame, the walls start to crumble and you start to fall, long and hard. You try your utter best to resist the pull but your resolve weakens after each passing day.
“She is so smart.”
“He is so funny.”
“They truly understand me.”
You’re happy, smiling all the time, giggling at your phone at inappropriate moments like an idiot. Life is good. Unicorns are farting rainbows. But this temporary high only lasts a split second. Something changes. It is so minuscule you don’t notice it at first but it’s there.
They start to take longer and longer to reply to your messages. Sometimes days go by before you hear even a peep from them and then it’s some half-baked, half assed excuse. You’re putting in more effort than one person should to keep this thing between you afloat.
Yet, things are still rosy. Or so you tell yourself. You deny that something is wrong. You ignore the signs as best you can but eventually, it starts to wear on you. No amount of blanket forts can protect you now.
They no longer jump at the opportunity to see you. They don’t bother to reply to your messages in a reasonable amount of time. They no longer subtly flirt with you. It feels like work. Like you’re trying to swim through thick sludge.
You become livid.
“How dare he ignores me?”
You stalk them, your anger growing as you realize they are out living their life while you sit here like an idiot pining after them. You contemplate posting passive aggressive statuses on Facebook just to give them a piece of your mind. You remind yourself that you would not look good in orange overalls. As quickly as this fury started… it ends.
You start to bargain with yourself.
“I’ll give her until Friday to call back.”
“I’ll wait until x before I message him.”
They finally call back. They finally reply to your message. Angels sing. Ponies frolic in the sunshine. Everything is right in the world again. After all, your patience paid off, no? The conversation does not go like it did in your head when you were arguing with yourself a while ago.
You deny what is right in front of you. That they’re keeping you on a thread. Perhaps it is because they’re selfish pricks that enjoy making other people miserable pining over them. Perhaps they are truly busy and this just wasn’t the right time to initiate a relationship. Or perhaps it is pure ignorance.
Nevertheless, you are the one sitting with the sputtering flame of hope in your chest. That is the worst part, isn’t it? If they were to just end things, to throw a bucket of ice water out over you, it would snuff the flame completely and ultimately, you’d be free. But they don’t.
You are the one that loses here. Not them. You tried to protect yourself. You tried to resist them. You tried. It was not enough and now here you sit, a cloud of misery hanging over your head.
You feel empty on the inside. It feels like a gigantic sumo wrestler is sitting on your chest, eating cookies. You don’t know what to do with yourself. You wander around work, an empty vessel, trying to find something that will make the pain go away. It feels like it will never end. You cry yourself to sleep at night, wondering: “What did I do wrong? Is there something wrong with me?”
No answer presents itself.
Finally, you accept it. When a man likes a woman, it’s obvious. And vice versa. If you continuously have to ask yourself: “Does, he/she like me?” then you already have your answer.
The moment you realise this, that flame finally, finally dies.
There comes a time in every young female’s life when she must put away her flamethrowers and Barbie dolls and become the badass, totally mannered woman of pure etiquette she is meant to be.
Or at least try not to burn down the kitchen. That works too. Ladies are not born, they are made. That being said what exactly does it mean to be a lady?
Does it mean you speak in old English, thou, art, thee? Does it mean you walk with your nose in the air and your tush tucked in firmly as if you’re holding a credit card between your butt cheeks? Does it mean you hide behind a fan and giggle properly while scalding your enemies with your laser eyes? Perhaps it’s drinking your tea with your pinkie in the air…
No my darlings, it is much more than that.
How to be a lady.
A lady is groomed.
Presentation is a key part to becoming a respectable woman. Your future depends on you being a sophisticated creature that always has her shit together. Even when you want to crawl into a hole and cry while stuffing chocolate bunnies into your face and making tissue shrines. Make-up is your arsenal. Use it. But not too much. You don’t want it to look like you took a trowel to your face.
Wash your face regularly and apply a good moisturizing cream. Avoid caking your face with powders and creams though. It could lead to acne and everyone knows that those with acne are probably ogres or even worse… Communists.
Care for your hair. Don’t go out if your hair looks like a family of bats made a nest in it and then you tried vacuuming them out. Put some extra effort in to making sure your hair always looks nice or at least presentable. There is nothing a man loves more than running his fingers through a woman’s silky, soft hair while kissing her senseless. Just saying.
When the demons are plaguing you and your evil twin sister is out (#period), be extremely careful for anyone not to see certain items that you require to survive the ordeal. Men don’t need to know you’re human, you are a lady damnit.
A lady dresses appropriately at all times.
This does not necessarily mean you wear a blouse that button up to your throat, knickers that make your granny proud or a dress that hide your ankles…. Because you know… nothing riles a man up more than sexy ankles. The shame. It means you wear the colours that compliment you. Your skirts can be short, but they don’t loving climb up into your butt cheeks. Your blouses don’t show every lump and bump that graces your drop dead gorgeous body. Don’t get me wrong, there is nothing wrong with having a little extra. Blatantly flaunting that “extra” by wearing skint tight clothing that could cause a seizure from tightness however, might just send the men running in the other direction. Wear clothes that compliments your figure and that doesn’t scream “cringe when you see it.”
This applies to all woman. You don’t want your double D’s flopping around possibly hitting innocent passer-by’s in the face. Although I’m sure some men would be more than willing to take the fall for their brothers in arms. Wear a good bra, wear clothes that cover everything appropriately but there is just enough sass to make the men pant behind their cool facades. Underwear is not a misnomer. Exposed things are not glamorous. Men eventually grow up and realise that a lady is a lot more worth than a quick booty call and if your clothing is not on par they will lose interest. Even if they do take a peek. They’re still men.
A lady behaves
Ladies do not have one night stands. Ladies do not do booty calls. Ladies behave themselves and is the picture perfect representation of what you probably want in a wife one day if you’re a man. (I can already see the boys cringe in horror. Marriage? Bogwash! Who thinks of such things at this day and age?).
If you as a man wishes to go sow your seeds then do so. Just don’t expect your lady to participate in such unladylike acts. Explore if you must. You will come to your senses eventually. In a decade or so. But don’t expect her to sit and wait for you. She is her own person and a man that actually has come to his senses will appreciate her for her worth.
Being a lady means that you do not sow your wild oats. At all. How can you claim to be respectable woman if you jump in bed with every man that sings pretty poems to you? Now you might argue with me that how dare I be so prudish? Woman should also be allowed these liberties that men seem to have but unfortunately for you we still live in a day and age where it is frowned upon if a woman is “loose.” It is unfortunately our lot in life. If you wish to be a lady you must accept it. If not, that is your choice.
Jumping in bed with a man after only a few dates is wholly untasteful. It’s doubtful he will have much respect for you if you do. He might placate you with pretty words and such but do not be fooled by them. Men might not want to admit it, but they do have a lot more respect for a woman that stands firm by her morals even if it leads to said poor man having an itch that cannot be scratched. Oh the sacrifices the poor souls must make!
It will be worth it in the end. A lady is loyal to a fault and will stand by your side through thick in thin while still looking fabulous.
A lady has manners.
Not much needs to be said here. Please and thank you is your bread and butter. Do not talk with your mouth full. Spitting peas all over your date might not be the best way to get the conversation going. You do not curse like a sailor even if that motherfucking bitch sitting a few feet away from your table dared look at your man. Smile politely at his jokes even if you want to roll your eyes so far into your head you might just pass out.
A lady knows how to please her man.
Yeah I know. We were all sniggering behind our hands. Get your head out of the gutter. Let me rephrase that. A lady knows how to make her man feel like buffalo wrestling, axe-wielding, female swooning male life form. Better?
Men do so love a damsel in distress that they can sweep off their pretty little feet. Don’t lie to us, you so do. It’s okay, because a lady knows how and when to ask for assistance even if she’s wholly capable of doing it herself. Men love feeling like protectors in the relationship and if you allow him to save you from the invisible woman eating raisin dwarves every now and then he’ll love you more for it. Sure the modern woman needs no man, yada yada yada but this is an inborn instinct and you can only use it to your advantage. But don’t go soft either. You should let him assist you in your endeavors yes, but subtly let him know that you could do it yourself as well.
Enjoy the fact that you are a woman and men will enjoy it too. Being a lady is last and foremost carrying yourself with confidence. It is sexier than any low cut dress…
Introvert: A social vegan that avoids meet. If you’re dating a creature of this type then kudos to you. Introverts are like cats. We are loyal lovers, tending to be more selective with whom we show our love and affection and we don’t just wag our tails for anyone. We are independent creatures that don’t need a lot of attention and hype to feel good and we have simple needs:
Food + affection + quiet comforts = happy introverts.
That all sounds wonderful to another introvert but what happens when an extrovert dates an introvert? How do you deal with this aloof creature that one seconds wants your undivided attention and then in the next dismisses you with a flourish?
Survival tips for courting an introvert:
Getting them to express themselves is like pulling teeth. Painful.
Introverts don’t want to discuss their “feelings” or have a formal conversation about their emotions. They prefer dealing with their bullshit on their own. Unlike most people, introverts don’t need other people to help them cope with their problems. They prefer to slay their demons on their own… with pointy things and lots of crying in the dark. When you just want to make things right or figure out what the heck they want for delivery, you have to coax them into talking or just leave them alone for a few days to just “deal” and then everything will be okay. Trust me, I have a marshmallow.
Just as nature detests a vacuum, we detest vacuous small talk.
Translation? Meaningless conversations are a no-no. Our energy is limited, partly because a lot of it is expended by frolicking in our minds and we don’t like wasting it on meaningless activities. Like small talk. Small talk is the bane of our existence. We hate it. We want to throw it into a volcano and watch it burn. If you have a death wish and want to die a slow and painful death then engage in small talk with an introvert. If their stare doesn’t kill you, the vacuum that is formed probably will.
Silence is only awkward if you make it awkward.
So you’ve hit a little snag and the conversation has stopped dead. It’s silent. You can hear your own breathing. It’s horrifying. Your toes are starting to twitch. Your palms become sweaty. You don’t have anything to say and the panic starts to claw at you like a rabid bunny with a bow on its head.
Chillax brother. While you’re silently freaking out like an introvert that just send a friend request to their crush… Said introvert is perfectly comfortable. Yes cupcake, you read that right. While you slowly slipped into your panic induced state, the introvert of your affections has been arguing with the voices in her head. You only think it’s awkward because silence is not a natural state for you. It’s perfectly natural to us though. In fact, sometimes it’s preferred.
Introverts love cuddling. Instead of you know… freaking out, why don’t you pull your introvert into your arms and enjoy the silence together.
I know right? Madness.
We hate the phone. Oh, dear BURRITOS, do we hate the phone.
That “rule” about dating, where you’re supposed to call after three days? Or how people will say that, in dating, calling is preferable to texting because it’s more personal or thoughtful or whatever? Bullshit. Crap. Twak. Nada. Please don’t call us. A phone call is intrusive, it disturbs us and catches us off-guard, and it is often filled with superfluous small talk. Yes – small talk. Ingrain that into your brain if you must.
Also texting. If your instincts are to just send text messages all day all week with no tea breaks, it’s not any better than calling. We can ignore them for a while. Heck we can ignore them for daaaays but that’s not the problem. It’s seeing those notifications pop up just knowing that you’re waiting for a response and that causes uncalled for amounts of anxiety. Nail biting agony. Look don’t get me wrong, we are not completely against conversations on the phone. If it doesn’t happen too often and the conversations are fun, it’s chilled. It’s those conversations that have no value. You know… SMALL TALK. Dum dum duuuuuuuuum. I wouldn’t touch that with a ten foot pole. Small talk in person is bad enough. Small talk over texting is like throwing gasoline over yourself and striking a match while yodelling Justin Bieber.
Don’t expect us to be available at a moment’s notice.
“What are you doing tonight?” are the five worst words we can receive in a text message. It’s not that we don’t like going out — we love it! We just have to mentally prepare ourselves for it. If your introverted other has been assuming that he or she will be spending the evening stuffing Oreos in their mouth and playing video games then that is what they are doing. Disrupting that is traumatizing. For them, not for you and you will probably have a very sour, grumpy hoodie glaring at you the entire night if you drag them away from it.
By the by… this is what we mean when we respond with: “Sorry, I already have plans.” We are not making up excuses or going behind your back to do unholy things. We have plans. They don’t involve other people. Respect that. If the need to see your lover is very great and you’re willing just to hold them while they engage in whatever they had planned for the night… then you’d probably score on the brownie points big time. It would mean that you are understanding and totally get that they need their me time… Wink wink, nudge, nudge.
Just because we need quiet time doesn’t mean we expect you to do the same.
We understand our need to retreat into a corner and vegate AWAY from other people can be a bummer. There are weekends that we don’t want to leave the house. We want to leave parties early and there are social situations we just blatantly avoid but we’re not unreasonable human beings. If you want to go out and do shit, then go out and do shit. Don’t let us stop you, just don’t try to force us to go with you and don’t make us feel like horrible people that should not walk this earth because of it. We already spend enough time feeling like we’re kicking everyone’s puppies around us.
We just want to feel safe and cherished.
We need to know that we can be our natural reclusive selves without worrying about pommeling your feelings into the ground or being judged for who we are. NOTHING will shut us down faster than hearing something like, “C’mon, what’s your deal?” or “Why are you being difficult?” or any other similar nonsense. This is the way we are. This is the way we have always been. This makes us feel deficient and we end up apologizing for ourselves a lot for not being “normal” or “typical.” There’s a reason we can seem guarded with our hearts: because we sure as hell are.
We’re loyal, supportive, and uplifting partners who will listen to you and want you to be happy.
If you need constant validation for every minor day-to-day achievement, we might not make good partners. We might just roll our eyes. We are often very independent creatures that don’t require constant love and affection and reassurance and quite often we might seem aloof and uncaring. However, if you’re looking for someone that will always listen (we are very good listeners), that is more than happy to let you shine and take the spotlight, that put things in perspective when the feels get too pressing and can look past your bullshit… Then head on.
Otherwise run in the other direction.
A loooooooooong time ago I did a post about bad boys and why women like them and now to focus on the other side of the rainbow infested spectrum.
Why do women always reject the nice guy?
Now, this is purely from my perspective because I too am one of the culprits of rejecting various young men and most of them are the adorable, marriageable nice kind…
I never went through my bad boy phase. Like ever. Nigel (a.k.a my brain) just decided that our hormones don’t have anything on her and completely obliterated them. Well not completely, she couldn’t fight them off when random bouts of wailing were in order for the day but bad boys she could fend off. Mostly. I still drooled over pictures. I am not perfect and neither is Nigel.
Now a bad boy can be defined as a male life form that doesn’t play by the rules. That don’t follow trends but have trends follow him… Like puppies. Wait…. Puppies are not manly enough. Fine. A half dead buffalo with a missing horn. Yeaaaaaah now that’s badass. That smokes in a non-smoking area (but not rob a bank. That would be a criminal offense. There is a fine line here people.). That is dangerous and make your legs go all wet noodly and of course, there is a sense of danger about him. Like he’s not going pay for his parking ticket because screw that man. So sexy, where did I put my palm leaf?
Anyway, now usually when I was approached by above mentioned male life form my thoughts would generally follow this line:
“Oooh he’s cute.” (Start picturing all kinds of corny scenarios. Us frolicking in a field of flowers, us walking in the rain all romantic and stuff. Us kissing under the moonlight while crickets sing the song of their people…)
“Oh crap, he’s coming this way. What do I do? Oh, I am going to die right here, right now.” (Start looking for a way to escape his penetrating gaze. Nigel fervently tries to wake up noodle legs. Fails.)
At this point, he’s standing in front of me and I freeze on the inside. The fear of talking to another human being taking over me.
And then he opens his mouth and Nigel has a seizure.
Bitch mode initiated. Now starting itching to slap him protocol.
Yes people. I never dated bad boys because Nigel labeled them all juvenile idiots. We’re quite fond of prejudice aren’t we Nigel? We’re bad people. Well, I am a bad person. Nigel is my brain. I should probably stop talking about her as a separate entity… Like now.
But you don’t care about any of this, do you? DO YOU? You just want to know why women don’t want to date your adorable, slappable (no Nigel…) ass.
Things that I have noticed about nice guys:
Nice Guys Don’t Have Self-Respect
No one respects a doormat. Nice guys don’t set boundaries or make any real demands. My entire dating history followed the same pattern. I was always the alpha male. I made all the decisions and frankly it pissed Nigel off. We have better things to do like frolick in our nothing box than decide on things. A bad boy doesn’t let a woman walk all over him or control him. Women can’t respect a man they can control. Take it from someone who knows. No respect equals no attraction.
Nice guys don’t have a lot of self-confidence
Everywhere you look you see magazines of skinny ass women wearing gorgeous clothing that you as an average woman can never have either because you’re broke or your body is just not anorexic enough for it. We are continuously bombarded by the media to always look our best, to barely eat anything or go on this special diet consisting of seaweed and air just so that you can squeeze into a pair of pants that nature never intended for you to squeeze your buttocks into. Women are insecure. Women need to be told that they’re pretty and bad boys are charming and confident enough to achieve this. They make girl feels pretty and that’s why said girls are so attracted to bad boys. Nice guys tend to fumble through their words and don’t always know when to say the right things. Feminism be damned, women don’t want to make the first move. They want YOU to make the first move and don’t let any feminazi tell you otherwise.
Nice Guys Are So Predictable
Most people lead boring, predictable lives, (Not me of course. I have a nothing box. What is a predictable life when you have a brain called Nigel?) So naturally they’re attracted to people who are exciting and a bit volatile. Bad boys are like trying to resist that last piece of chocolate lying in your secret stash. Nice guys are never a challenge because they’re so afraid they’re going to say the wrong things or do the wrong things and then you will like hate them forever. By being predictable you’re doing the wrong thing in any case… You simply can’t win. I’m sorry. Predictable + no excitement + no challenge = I prefer bad boy.
Women Like To Feel Needed.
Nice guys usually do not need to be fixed. Their mothers did not drop them as babies. Well not enough to rattle all the brain bits into badass mode. Bad boys usually do, so they become a project. Like making a volcano with uhm… I’ve never made a volcano before okay. Things. Some women think if they can fashion the perfect man, he will never ever leave them and they will live happily ever after in a cottage with singing birds and mice that do all the housework. (Yeah no.) If a woman is so busy fixing her brooding boyfriend, she doesn’t have to look at what needs to be fixed in her own life.
Bad Boys Are Drop Dead Gorgeous and Strapping
Have you ever seen a bad boy who didn’t make your heart go all fluttery and stupid? I’m sure there are a few, but they wouldn’t be able to get away with half the stuff they did if they didn’t look so damn fine. Looking at our history, men have always protected women, physical and otherwise.
It’s still ingrained in our womanly genes to want the male that can feed you and like kill a buffalo with his bare hands. With nice guys, women are more likely to think that the Buffalo can and will impale him with its horns. Bad boys generally are the muscular kind that spend hours in the gym while nice guys tend to pursue intellectual quests.
As women get older they tend to realize that their bad ass boyfriends cannot provide for them and their bad qualities outweigh their good ones. It’s then that they realize that a good guy is a good choice but usually by then it’s too late and all the good ones have been taken but you know. One for the good guys… Yay? Frankly, if a woman always tends to go for the bad boy then the chances are she will likely never date you or she will and then she will dump your sorry ass for the next asshole that comes walking by. It’s the ones that stray once or twice you should consider, they’re only going through a hormone invested phase after all…
But most of this is just speculation on my part. I’ve never dated a bad boy and can only draw my conclusion from hearing other women’s stories. But what I do know is that I am quite tired of being the alpha male. Before you go off and tell me all kinds of things I really wouldn’t care to hear. If you can point out a nice guy with a backbone of steel then I will worship the ground you walk on and you can reprimand me all you like. But that’s not how it works, is it? There is no such thing as a strapping young man with confidence and the personality of a saint. You either get one or the other.
All is not lost however. I think the trick is not to be nice but to be kind. A nice person conforms his behaviour to what he believes society sees as “nice”. A “kind” person doesn’t give a damn about what society thinks but acts out of a deep-rooted love for his fellow human beings. Perhaps the solution is not to become a bad boy to get the girl but to rather be a man that shows compassion and mercy and who knows when to take his stand. Someone who is trustworthy but also strong of will. I’d like one order of strong, kind, compassionate and trustworthy. But not nice. Never nice. We’ve seen this doesn’t seem to work very well. Leave that out, please.
I know I am putting in a tall order here but consider it.
Some poetic bullshit for you ponder.