I had the good sense to start dating young. The point where asking out a guy was really not that big a deal. The point where if a guy wasn't interested, they straight up told me they weren't. But as I got older (and thank God, more picky), it just got more freaking complicated. There were rules, and signals to read, and like a freaking flowchart to follow when you started talking to a dude, or even just noticed him from afar. My imagination got elaborate, I was told that I had select guys with futures, at sixteen. I could barely think past whether I could save enough money for the next event, or if I really, really had to do my Maths project today
(there's always in the morning).
Today I read a post that just kinda blew the wind out of my sails. All your life, well girls at least, we're taught that if a guy is either particularly nice, or particularly mean (if he has the brain of a Neanderthal), it means that he's interested, and that we should, with caution, proceed. Give him hints, he's a smart guy, he'll get it. But not too subtle, cause in the end, men are simple creatures.
What a load of bull. What we, as girls again, perceive to be particularly nice, is usually guys basic courtesy. You know, holding the door open, replying to messages, maintaining a basic conversation. For some reason, in our heads, that's just not what most normal people do, most normal people are bitches who slam the door in your face and never reply to messages and always cut you off. Right? Right? Eh, wrong. Guys don't think like girls. They. Like. Backups. Sure, he might not be interested now, but you never know, there could be a day when he's just striking out completely, and he needs to know that he's really not that bad with girls. Or maybe he's just chicken, bat shit terrified of the crap storm that may come after telling you a point blank no. So they kinda string you along. Keep you in the guessing phase. You know, the point where you're not sure if going for coffee is a date, or a friend thing. Or when you don't know whether to scrap it, or act on it. Or even when you start to really think about whether him liking your facebook photo/ blog post/ instagram/insert-social-media-thingy-here is a sign, or just plain old niceness.
And to be honest, to any guys out there, that's just mean. Not even like oops mean, like full on, bitch mode, Blair Waldorf, Mean Girls, Torture a couple of puppies kinda mean. You have this girl, who's dangling on a string like some worm, waiting for you to bait her and you're just sitting there purporting it. You can't even say it's in her head, she has stone cold evidence, all the texts, the suggestions to meet up, the conversations, you honestly lead her to believe that there was some hope. And that makes you a bad person. Your nice people membership has officially been revoked. Jackass.
I think we should go back to the way we were when we were kids. Ish was so simple then. People told others what they really thought. There was no being nice, there was what I wanted, what I didn't want, and what was just right. And that's how it should be. Just be straight up with people, dudes and chicks. And if you have to, get some mase ready. If you need to bring in the popo, I suggest doing it over the phone, that'd be easier. And safer. But at some point in everyone's life, including Heidi-freaking-Klum, we've been strung out by someone, someone who made us think there was more than there actually was. And it hurts. Like shit. The kind that even Tangy Cheese doritos, and choccie covered fingers can't heal. Because now it's not just a question of being rejected anymore, you feel stupid. And humilliated. And hurt. And that takes a lot more work to get over, than a simple effing rejection. So don't do it. Pretty please?
I'll link the post here, cause everybody, young and old needs it. Read it, and get with the damn program. Screw being nice, do the right thang. (Best Spike Lee movie ever :p)
Now excuse me while I go delete some fools' numbers :p