May 15, 2013 by Manny Wordsmith
It’s the lure, the pull, the aching, the feeling you get in your gut when the person enters the room. You can’t explain it and it annoys you, it eats at you.
That’s a tiny Alice, in your gut, EATING YOU.
You think, “Pssh, she’s not even that hot. She’s not wearing that long, red, low-cut dress like it was made for her. Nope. I’ve seen better.”
She starts to creep up the ranks as you remember what she drunkenly said to you at a bonfire.
“I like guys with dark hair he he!”
You ignore the flashbacks of her constantly texting her ex and misinterpreting your jokes.
“It’s retarded not ReTARDIS. Why would you say that wrong? And who is this Doctor Who you keep talking about?”
Instead, you concentrate on the little things like the one time she grabbed your shoulder before she fell on the ice in front of your house last December. Or the dances you shared at your mutual friend’s wedding in 2011. And that one time she told you your shirt was cute.
You catch yourself and try to think of ex’s, one-night stands, the new model on the front page of Suicidegirls.com, anyone who could topple her. Because putting a girl, who doesn’t like you or want anything to do with you, on top of a pedestal is the last thing you want.
But you usually do it anyway, imagining the “what if’s” like the thoughts alone would bring you together. Bullshit.
So let me tell you a bit about a girl I called…
Blond and bitchy with a low-cut shirt. She was a friend of a friend and had Shue hair. She made snide jokes about my afro and courageously “flirted” with me by beating me in arm wrestling (Swimmer and volleyball player…who knew?). So where was the appeal you ask? The attraction? The draw?
Did you not read what I just wrote? I was 17, green, and got to hang around a chick who never once wore a bra. Before I even knew her name, which I clearly forgot, I watched her make out with three of her girlfriends, climb on a roof of a house without trouble AND call someone a cunt! She was one insult and sapphic exchange away from making me tattoo her name on my chest (which I clearly forgot) and have her baby.
But I made a fool of myself each time I saw her. She was tough, pretty and maybe a little too interested in kissing her homegirls, but I fawned over her and annoyed everyone while I tried to get her AIM (AOL Instant Messenger for all you “Millennials”) screen name. But I lost my cool. I went all in when I should have called, put all my chips on red and landed on black. I threw a snake eyes…in that big tub with the green felt and the boxes.
I have no idea if any of those references explain my feelings correctly because I honestly know little to nothing about gambling.
But I was out, my chips were down, my luck was drawn…ok I’ll stop.
I can’t ignore the fact that this girl was a firecracker that I probably couldn’t have handled in the first place. I had just gotten facial hair like 2 weeks before and was still using Family Matters episodes as reference points for dating.
But I threw her up there on a gracious pedestal anyway. And Weakness didn’t even resemble one thing I really actually liked. She was tough, but not like Princess Leia mouthing off to Grand Moff Tarkin tough.
I mean, her planet got blown up anyway, but she gave a convincing lie before it happen. If only Dantooine was closer…
Weakness kissing the girls thing was cool, but she had no respect for herself. And yeah, she had hair like Queen Elisabeth Shue, but she wasn’t anywhere as smart, funny or warm as any of the characters I loved. I probably liked her because she was everything I wasn’t, but really, she was just a bitch.
So, rule #1 nice guys, stop putting “bitches” on pedestals.
Treat the person at the level of respect in which they deserve.
Whore = Whore
If all the signs point to that…get it, knock it out, beat it up. But remember what De Niro said in Casino, “You can’t turn a whore to a housewife.” Or was the Ludacris?
Classy Lady = Whore
So, know what you want and what your willing to go after. Make sure she’s worth it. And by doing that, you are less likely to boost up, praise or treat the wrong girl as royalty. No problem waiting for the right chance to come along.