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 feature depends on you being a sophisticated creature that always have 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 moisturising cream. Avoid caking your face with powders and creams thought. 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 make 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 buttons 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 in 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 endeavours 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 was 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 don’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 offence. 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 labelled them all juvenile idiots. We’re quite fond of prejudice aren’t we Nigel? We’re bad people. Well I am 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 womanly 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 the 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 women 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.
If there is one thing I’ve learned it is not to take life too seriously. It can kill you… Like grab a fork and tickle you, kill you. Like seriously. There is nothing more dangerous than a fork and peanut butter falling on your head when you open the cupboard in the kitchen. I should totally write a post on how to wash peanut butter out of one’s hair. Because it happens. Shit happens my dear readers and it’s often peanut butter in your hair. How bloody poetic.
Peanut butter infested hair aside, let’s get down to business.
Cue University, the main reason why this blasted blog of mine is so quiet. But I repent; I do honestly try to make an effort… I promise no wait I don’t. Screw you all.
As pleasant as the thought of chasing a three legged cat down the street in my underwear sounds, I do believe I’ll pass. What? You had not suggested something so absurd? Well excuse me for assuming you’re interesting.
Another little life lesson that have been adequately forced down my throat would be not to hit morons over the head with my water bottle. You see I’m in that awkward position of choosing to study a degree equivalent to an engineering degree. Some might argue that I’m talking a cluster of crap; nothing in the world is more challenging than an engineering degree… I beg to differ. You try spending everyday getting up at half past 5, working for hours upon hours having barely enough time to pee and then going home, eating, bathing – that is to say if I even remember…(if you remember, there is reason I have dead windowsill fly collection. They seem to love me by the time I reach Wednesday and end up dead by Friday. Could be me… Could be the bug spray or perhaps Katherine carrying an aerosol can filled with au de stinky toes.)
Okay I’m lying; I’d eat my own ear before I got to bed smelly. I have no idea how I’m going to accomplish that but I will, hear me out, I will non-believer. (Here is a dirty little secret… I shower naked.) Anyway… where was I? Oh right, I was at the part of repeating the entire damn process over and over again until you eventually reach that point where you’re willing to lick a wall just because you can. Well that’s just me; I don’t know what the rest of you people do when under a lot of pressure. Me?
I lick walls and hunt carpets in the middle of the night.
Now the reason as to why the urge to use my water bottle as a weapon of mass destruction had risen in the first place is because I was in the unfortunate position of being stuck behind some two girls chattering like banshees and walking really… really… really slowly. I was irritated, irrational, female and hungry. I couldn’t help overhearing one complain to the other over the absolute atrocity of her having to sit through three hours of class before having a blessed break. Cue eye twitch. I’m lucky if I even have a bloody break. You my dear, are probably studying something like BA arts, I have nothing against any BA degrees what I do though have a problem with is people complaining about absolutely nothing. Shame you have class until half past 3? Well that’s cute; I have class till half past 6 sometimes but never mind me. Oh no, you have to get up at 7 to make class… Oh dear, what absolute train wreck, your life is ending because you can’t go out with your friends tonight because you have this foreign thing called homework. I’m lucky to even have social contact with people for 5 min a day. What the hell am I talking about anyway? I don’t know what her life is about.
Perhaps I’m too hard on this individual whose name I do not know, but when you reach the point of finding late night activities like hunting carpets entertaining… You know you are losing your mind or perhaps a pillow and finding any kind of sympathy is asking a bit too much.
That is all.
What is more horrifying than your cell phone inexplicably dying on you?
It’s not the boogeyman picking his nose or the daunting task of finding something to watch on television… Oh no, it’s something much worse.
A power failure.
Dum dum duuuuuuuuuuuuum.
There is nothing more horrifying than the knowledge that for a unknown finite amount of time you will be sitting at home with no electricity meaning no way to charge your dead cell phone, no video games, no hot water, no television and food that might as well be still alive since the means to cook it is… is so primitive (forgive me I had a horrible flashback. It involved burned grilled cheese, the horror! I know for a fact that my wonderful oven wouldn’t have inflicted such monstrosities on that poor sandwich.)
Not to mention no lights, eternal darkness, an increased threat of boogeyman dancing, spiders (I’m not kidding, they seem to thrive on the no electricity front. Something about crawling out from underneath the rug while you try to pee strait and not fall off the toilet in the middle night with a flashlight barely making a dent in the black abyss of your bathroom. You sit there (or stand…) minding your own damn business and then bam! OH SHIT! Need I elaborate? We’ve all been there.) and of course it’s the middle of dead winter. So no electric blankets, no heaters, did I mention the no hot water?
But what gets me the most of this big mess is nothing else than the soul sucking boredom of it all. What the hell am I suppose to do with myself the entire day? What do people do when they have no technology to entertain them? In my defense I realize that there are people out there that deal with this on a daily basis and to them I say: “Well done. I applaud thee.” But that is simply not the point. I am a spoiled child with access to technology on a daily basis and my question is: “How does one entertain oneself when technology has inexplicably bit you in the butt?”
Things to do without technology:
- Write a story… with your bare hands. That’s right, look for a pen, it’s a tangible, long, thing object that is usually about 20 cm long more or less that when you scratch on a piece of paper (a thin white sheet, you need this as well.) it makes a mark. Magic! Now go, be the next Stephanie Meyer.
- Write a song. It’s like writing a story only the difference is that this can be used to inflict mass horror on people by singing it. So if you ever feel like being hunted by pitchforks and the power happens to be out, this is your means to a very painful end… and possibly finding out what the definition of “Run Like Hell” is.
- Wash a car. Time to get down and dirty… like with mud and shit. Get your head of the gutter honestly what do you take me for? A llama-llama? I think not. Washing a car is an entire process on its own and will be elaborated on a later date. For now take it as an excuse to stalk that super hot neighbour of yours and ask him/her for help on washing your car or someone else’s car or the cat’s car. Whatever floats your boat?
- Stand on your head and try to lick your toes. It’s harder than it sounds, trusts me. This should waste a few hours, for added effect you could invite over your cute neighbour and try to light your farts on fire but this should only be done in the clutches of pure, undiluted stupidity.
- If you have a sibling (like me) that is even more useless than you are during a horrifying crisis like this, play a board game. Something likes chess. If not really your thing or your brain-cells struggle to understand the concepts of intellectual pwning, you can always tie your sibling to a tree and throw them with the board pieces…
- Take a nap. Also commonly referred to as a horizontal life pause. Even the most simple minded of beings understand this concept and should I not have to elaborate on the art of napping.
- Get a hammer, some wood and some nails… and make something. What the hell did you think I was going to say? Go after your arch-nemesis and have a tea party of death involving a hammer and a lot of screaming? Noooo, bad murdered in the making. We do not kill people. We help them into the afterlife.
- Light a candle and fry marshmallows. Ignore the strange colour your marshmallow takes on. I’m still alive so I can say with certainty that it will not kill you. I think. I might be dead already but I’m not sure.
- Watch a movie. Ha ha… ha ha ha… ha ha ha ha. I’m sorry I had to.
- Read a book. My brother absolutely hates reading but when desperate times call for desperate measures you’d be surprised as to what you discover you can and cannot do. Like reading a book. After spending some time ignoring him flat while he wandered around the house listlessly I held out a book to him and urged him to read it. He actually liked it. So shut up you “I hate reading morons”, the revolution will get you!!
Last but not least…
If all else fails, eat a peanut.