Otherwise, how would we know that women who dig men are most interested in their left wrists? Oh, and dancing with a lot of hand gestures and head bopping…cause it indicates fertility. Or something.
Seriously. Yay science.
Yay! Just what I always wanted. A follow-up to the article about dude speak. This time, they’re deciphering the ladies. Well, as best as we can be deciphered. Lord knows, it takes an estrogen-coated Rosetta Stone to figure us out.
If you’ve ever spoken to a woman, it’s fair to say you’ve been confused by one.
Also, bemused by one. Possibly infused with one. Maybe even chartreused by nuns. See? I can make up nonsense too.
Yes doesn’t always mean yes, no doesn’t always mean no, and most of us have once in our lives even admitted, “Well, I may have said that, but I didn’t mean it.”
You know the whole “no means no” line that has become something of a joke? It’s not a joke. No does mean no. Words mean things. Even when they are emanating from silly, flighty ladies with girl brains.
…while figuring out what women really want can be difficult, it’s not impossible.
Stay with me for a second, because I’m about to suggest something radical. You could look at the woman across from/next to/underneath/on top of you and say, “What do you want/need/feel/like?” I KNOW.
Even in this day and age, most women like to be pursued, so if we really like you, we’ll happily hand over our digits and wait for you to call.
And wait and wait and wait. While eating Ben & Jerry’s Chunky Monkey and watching a Real Housewives marathon. Waiting is super fun.
As much as we all say that The Rules is an outdated tome that brews trouble between the genders, there are still some things we can’t let go of. And one of them is that we don’t want to accept plans with you last-minute, because we don’t want you to think we’re that easy to catch.
What are we? Fireflies?!? Hahaha. No, we are not. Good luck putting us in jars and watching our butts light up. You’ll have to try harder than that.
…when a woman says something is fine, it’s decidedly not.
Unless she is talking about dishware or Hugh Jackman.
When a man brings up another female’s name in the midst of a story, a woman’s internal panic button is pressed…
This button is red. There is no un-pushing it. You are screwed.
…women know that telling a guy we love him before he tells us could be too much for him to handle.
When a woman says I love you what she’s really doing is signing a contract. With you, dude. This entitles her to at least 10 years of marriage, 2.5 kids, and your testicles. You have no out other than running like hell or sleeping with her best friend.
I know it’s difficult to comprehend the idea of women as individuals with their own way of communicating. Some women are honest about what they want. Some take a more circuitous route to what they mean. Wanna know who else is as varied, interesting, and sometimes difficult to read? Men. If this idea shocks you, I recommend you stop reading articles that use the phrase “girl talk” unironically.
Another day, another article about men and the ways that they don’t say what they mean even when they kind of mean what they say. I love the title, “What he really means…”, since the ellipses leave it up to the most ridiculous interpretation. What he really means…when he picks his teeth. What he really means…when he folds his jeans. What he really means… when he votes libertarian.
“Do you understand “guy-talk?” Can you comprehend all the subtle — and not-so-subtle — nuances of his secret language?
Not without my decoder ring.
If you’re a woman, chances are the answer is: sort of, kind of, er, not really.
Translation: gay dudes are lucky.
“Men don’t always say what they mean,” says Scott Haltzman, M.D., clinical assistant professor of psychiatry and human behavior at Brown University and author of The Secrets of Happily Married Men.
Haltzman is also Captain of the Obvious Ship and occasionally pilots the No Shit, Sherlock Schooner.
“And sometimes we say what we mean but women understand it completely differently.”
It’s almost as if he’s saying that women and men don’t always understand each other…I’m shocked.
All in all, that means that cracking the code can be difficult — but not impossible.
It helps if you know the Navajo language. Wait, that was the Germans. My bad. I’ve got to stop watching Windtalkers before reading these things.
To give you a head start, we talked to relationship experts and real guys to shed some light on some of a guy’s most common lines — and what in the world he really means by them.
Real guys? As opposed to what? Robots?
What he says: “I really like your shoes.”
What he means: “I really like you.”
What he might mean: “I’m turned on by feet.”
Ty Marciniak claims that this is one of the first things he says when he’s into a girl. “It boosts her confidence, but it also shows her I’m fashionable and sweet,” he says. “She’ll notice that I didn’t come right out and compliment her legs or something.” Which is, of course, what he really was complimenting in the first place. Get it?
Wait, so, if he compliments my shoes, he likes my legs. What if he compliments my hair? Does he like my forehead? Or is that subtle guy code for he wants me for my brain? That can’t be right, cause guys are only after one thing, right? Crap, that’s from a different article. I have got to stop reading Cosmo before doing this.
What he says: “Maybe we should take some time off from each other — you know, take a break.”
What he means: “Maybe I’m better off keeping my options open.”
What he might mean: “I didn’t realize you had a hot friend until yesterday.”
What he says: “I am listening!”
What he means: “I’m listening, but I really don’t want to get into a long, emotional discussion right now.”
What he might mean: “I have no idea what you just said, but if I shout, maybe you’ll leave me alone!”
“Men process verbal information better when it’s direct and to the point,” says Haltzman. Scott Borchert agrees. “When I say this, it usually means I just wish she’d get to the point sooner,” he says. One way around this is to ask him for his advice — guys love to fix problems — or to make sure he’s primed for a marathon talk session.
Consider training him for a 5k talk session first. And then never use the term talk session again. Or assume that all guys are the same. Or buy into sexist stereotypes. Problem solved!
I’m not a fan of lists that are full of absolutes and dicta about what qualifies a dude as a real man. A man is a man is a man based on biology or choice; there is no exam to pass, nor any Herculean tasks that should be required.
I credit the author of this article for including things on the list that are thoughtful. Number 3: “He’s not afraid for you to see him cry.” is emotionally healthy and number 5: “He never calls anyone a ‘fag’.” is the first rule in the book, How Not to Be a Douchewang.
Unfortunately the list doesn’t stop there. Time to trot out some not at all old and tired stereotypes.
6. He does the premenstrual tampons-and-Ben-&-Jerry’s run.
This one made me laugh as a grammarian. Are the tampons, the Ben & Jerry’s or the run premenstrual?
9. He can lift you up with one hand.
Only if he’s green and has anger issues.
12. He knows his way around the kitchen and doesn’t mind cooking 90 percent of the meals.
Look, I couldn’t “find my way” around the kitchen with a GPS and Giada De Laurentiis, and I wouldn’t want to cook 90% of the meals. I don’t expect that of a man either. 50/50 suits me just fine. 50% of the time he cooks. 50% of the time we order out. I kid! It’s more like 60/40.
13. He has the ability to spot a cool car when all you can see is the city bus and a minivan.
I…wait, what? This one doesn’t even make sense. A real man can spot a cool car. Does a fake man only see PT Cruisers? And why does his girlfriend see the bus and the minivan? She’s environmentally conscious…and her biological clock is ticking?
15. He doesn’t have more than four pairs of shoes.
Running shoes, hiking boots, brown dress shoes, black dress shoes, crappy casual shoes to wear on weekends. Boom. Already up to five. And what if he’s a tap dancer? Is this lady saying Gregory Hines wasn’t a real man? I think not.
16. He doesn’t ever order a drink with fruit juice in it.
Which is why so many “real men” used to have scurvy.
17. His drink of choice is bourbon. Always bourbon.
Unless he doesn’t like bourbon. Or he doesn’t drink. Or he’s a recovering alcoholic.
20. When the going gets tough—like, really tough—he remains cool, calm, and collected, but not devoid of genuine emotion.
Ya hear that, real men? Have emotion, but not too much. Be cool and collected, but not a robot. Here’s one better for you. Read stuff online, but not lists like this.
Of the many rules that women are force fed about how to get and/or keep a man, my favorite will always be:
1. Why buy the goat when you get the milk for free?
I knew you were tired of hearing “cow” so I switched it up—also, I just love goat cheese. This is the oldest and most redundant of mom-isms, but there’s a grain of truth here, and it’s in the notion that you should make sure your needs are being fulfilled as much as his are.
Hahaha. So true, amirite, ladies? Dudes are shallow, sex-obsessed dillholes with only one pursuit in life, and women are the gatekeepers of their sacred cooter grails. Hey, random author dude, how’s about going the extra mile and updating it for 2010? My suggestion:
Why follow her on Twitter when you can read her tweets for free?
See? Current and yet still blazingly sexist. Fantastic.
Oh, and author man. That aphorism is not about women getting what they need from relationships. It’s about controlling both women’s sexuality and sexual desires while casting men as single-minded assclowns. It really needs to go away. My fabulous update not withstanding.
It’s the opposite of statistical reliability, but this poll still makes me sad.
42% of people think men should pay for the first date? The only question I have is: why? I have yet to hear an answer that makes sense.
Deep down inside, I didn’t believe that Roman Polanski was going to be extradited. Hell, it wasn’t even that deep down. This is a man who evaded justice for over 30 years. Who continues to evade justice. A man who has garnered sympathy from both Hollywood compatriots and people commenting on blogs and websites. From the privileged and the non privileged alike. He is a man who drugged and raped a 13-year old girl, a fact that has never been in question, and he is free to live a life of luxury.
It’s precisely this luxury that infuriates me at the same time that it contributes to my absence of disbelief. Money is the great sandpaper. Smoothing out the unpleasantness in life. Not erasing it mind you, but taking away the rough edges. In this case, Polanski’s rough edges included dealing with a court system that wanted to put him in jail. Where he should have been. For what is one of the worst crimes a person can commit, the violation of a child.
My frustration with the systems that allow him to live unfettered by reality shouldn’t be mistaken for nonchalance or apathy. The entire case from start to finish has made me angry and sad. And angry. Ever so angry. But I can’t work up disbelief. This kind of injustice doesn’t surprise me anymore. I wish it did.
So Hugh Hefner, that lover of women, has dreamed up the ultimate website. TheSmokingJacket.com is for men who like everything about Playboy but the naked ladies. Hugh knows that the modern man wants nothing more than to get relationship advice from a dude who thinks that inviting a woman to join an erstwhile harem is appropriate on the first date.
My issues with Playboy aside, the website at first perusal looks like a sad knockoff of AskMen.com. Which is really just a sad knockoff of any issue of Maxim from the ’90s. I realize that there are some guys who swear by the boobs and beer mentality that mags like those espouse, but it doesn’t make FHM, Gear, et al. relevant or interesting.
I watched 300 Monday night, and despite issues I have with the movie’s racial and gender politics, Gerard Butler is a star in it. Charismatic, strong, and even funny. Which, in a movie filled with bloodletting of various severity, is no small thing.
Ever since the release of the film, the man who would be king of the box office hasn’t released anything that isn’t a complete dud. (Okay, I will admit to loving P.S. I Love You. Shut up.) I figured I’d go back to some of the movies that started him on his path to 300 and the films that have stripped him of all the credibility the movie gained him.
Her Majesty, Mrs. Brown
His first IMDB credit. It’s a small part, but he’s great in it and not because he shows his hindquarters. Ahem, not just because he shows his hindquarters. It’s hard to stand out in a movie with Billy Connolly and Judi Dench, but anyone who thinks he can’t act should start here.
Tomorrow Never Dies
I had no idea Butler played Leading Seaman-HMS Devonshire in TND. It’s my favorite pre-Craig Bond film, so…yay Butler.
Blah, Blah, Blah, Bunch of Stuff I’ve Never Heard Of
Dracula 2000
Wowza. I know Butler had to eat, but come on. It’s a vampire movie with Danny Masterson from That ’70s Show and the least scary bloodsuckers since Bunnicula. GB scores back a few cool points by going head to head with Christopher Plummer as Van Helsing. Who wins in a fight between King Leonides and Captain Von Trapp? Serious question.
Doo Da Dooo More Stuff
Reign of Fire
GB’s involvement is overshadowed in every way by the mondo-uber-weirdo-machismo character that Matthew McConaughey inflicts on the audience.
Lara Croft Tomb Raider: The Cradle of Life
This is a not great sequel to a ho hum film. Gerard Butler does horizontal pull-ups on the ceiling of his prison cell. Angelina Jolie acts bored and almost sleeps with him. That really is all there is to recommend it.
Timeline
Haaahahha. Hoo boy, this one is bad. But in a good way. Scientists jump back in time to try to save Billy Connolly (who stepped WAY down from Mrs Brown.) Gerard Butler gets to be all romantic times with a lady in olden times and the costumes and sets are fun. However, those of you thinking that the movie sounds like silly fun should remember two words. Paul. Walker.
Dear Frankie
You have not seen this movie. You should see this movie. Butler plays a The Stranger. Wait, wait, stay with me. A woman who has spent the better part of 10 years lying to her son about his father’s whereabouts hires Butler to play the part of Dad for a weekend. Maudlin sappiness ensues yes, but Emily Mortimer is lovely as the overprotective mother who does something desperate. And Butler and Jack McElhone as Frankie act like real people as they get to know each other rather than film cliches.
The Phantom of the Opera
Allow me a moment to speak directly to the man himself…Hey Gerald, sup? So, listen, I know it might seem like a good idea to star in a film as a disfigured man in love with a breathy, sweet-faced ingenue. Your agent might have even told you that it was Oscar material. Your publicist promised you magazine covers. Fire them. Fire everyone who told you this bloated, preening mess of movie musical would do anything but make you look like a putz. Cause you did, you know. Look like a putz. A putz in a mask.
Skipping ahead to….
300
GRRRRRRR. I’m making a Spartan face. ARRRGGGGHHHHH. And I’m done.
P.S. I Love You
Shut UP, it’s sweet. And Kathy Bates is wonderful and looks a lot like Hilary Swank. Harry Connick Jr.! Jeffrey Dean Morgan! Gina Gershon! James Marsters! Seriously, people. Spike from Buffy. GB’s role is small but pivotal. If the dude didn’t die, his widow would never have the impetus to go to Ireland and start designing shoes and make nice with her mom. Really, his death in this is almost as noble as his death in 300. Really.
RocknRolla
Haven’t seen it. Dig the title.
The Ugly Truth
I watched this…movie. I can’t think of how to describe it without saying awful things about the writers’, producers’ and actors’ progeny and ancestors. If the world was fair, everyone involved including Butler would have to spend a year volunteering at a local Planned Parenthood, or homeless shelter, or animal rescue to reset the karmic balance upset by this crap. Gerry, you make me sad.
Gamer
This movie is not about what I would like it to be about. An overly muscled man who thinks he’s a Spartan warrior, joins a D&D group, and convinces them to invade the local Jamba Juice.
The Bounty Hunter
Everything in my feminist soul wanted to go HULK SMASH whenever I saw the trailer for this piece of blech. King Leonides is looking pretty far away, dude.
I’m ending it there. At the apex of his career immolation.
Hey, you know who was stupidly good looking?
