Even though we don't always act like it, women are a gift. After all, didn't God give the woman to Adam?
Don't treat women like they are a thorn in your flesh, pain in your side, nuisance. Don't speak to them like they exist solely for your pleasure. Don't toss them around like disposable napkins.
How do you speak to the women in your life? Are you respectful and kind or are you cavalier and obscene? How do you speak about them?
Even though we don't always act like it, we're listening. And if you're running your mouth and treating women in a way that is anything other than respectfully - we notice and we won't be inclined to let you lead us.
You might wanna think about that.
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Tip #37
Here's a Tip:
If she doesn't respond when you text her, it probably means:
1. She doesn't want you to text her.
2. She has nothing to say to you. Ever. Again.
3. If you're lucky, it means she doesn't have anything nice to say so she's not saying anything at all.
What it does NOT mean is:
1. She wants you to keep texting her.
2. You should blow up her phone with texts until she responds.
3. She's away from her phone and doesn't know you sent her a text. (ok. this one could be true. but let's face it: if she wants to hear from you, she's gonna have her phone close by in case you do text her. I promise. that's how it works.)
If she doesn't respond - don't keep texting. Just don't. Don't wait until the next day and text again. Just stop.
Or I will break your face with my phone.
If she doesn't respond when you text her, it probably means:
1. She doesn't want you to text her.
2. She has nothing to say to you. Ever. Again.
3. If you're lucky, it means she doesn't have anything nice to say so she's not saying anything at all.
What it does NOT mean is:
1. She wants you to keep texting her.
2. You should blow up her phone with texts until she responds.
3. She's away from her phone and doesn't know you sent her a text. (ok. this one could be true. but let's face it: if she wants to hear from you, she's gonna have her phone close by in case you do text her. I promise. that's how it works.)
If she doesn't respond - don't keep texting. Just don't. Don't wait until the next day and text again. Just stop.
Or I will break your face with my phone.
Friday, January 7, 2011
Soooo Not a Date
I had an outing last night. While some may confuse a guy asking a girl to hang out one on one as a date, this was not in fact, a date; just a couple of friends hanging out. But this turned out to be an outing with too many entertaining aspects to just let it slide by without making an appearance here. Refer to the previous post, T-Shirts and Twilight and you'll get a preview, as I spent my evening with the very same Dick.
Bless his heart.
He's trying really hard to make some improvements in his life, and so I was very pleasantly pleased when he text me early in the week asking if he could please reserve an evening of my time this week. I fully expected him to be a half hour early, in a tuxedo t-shirt, and wearing crocs, but he had done so well in politely asking to hang out with me so many days in advance that I had to agree (not to mention the fact that the other two contributors to this blog and I made a deal to never turn down a potential Weebles entry experience).
I suggested we go to a movie. In conjunction with being highly inappropriate 75% of the time, Richard has a knack for being kinda grabby, so I felt like a movie was a safe outing for us. We wouldn't have to talk, but we'd still be hanging out. But Richard wasn't gonna let that fly; much to my hesitation, I agreed to go to a bar that's down the road from my house for a few drinks with him. He had offered to come to my side of town - so again, I had to agree.
Bless his heart.
He was half an hour late, but we eventually made it to the place. Relatively early for a Thursday night, it was more or less empty when we walked in. We were making our way to a couple of stools at the bar when all of the sudden someone starts yelling my name. I mean, yelling my name. I weirdly start looking around the dark room - who on earth would yell in a place like this? - when a man at a table on the opposite side stands up, holds his arms out, and starts walking towards me. Good 'ol Dick left me standing awkwardly in the middle of the bar and made his way without me to his seat, while this stranger yelling my name continued towards me.
Thankfully, I did know this guy (and only figured it out when he said his name in my ear while he was hugging me. That was fun). He turned out to be, not a stalker, but my former boss; a very kind man who always thought very highly of me but is just old enough and has just enough of a creeper inebriate thing going for him that he can make a single girl feel oogey. I kept looking over at Richard in hopes that he'd rescue me, but he was preoccupied with the new friend he was making - the guy sitting at the bar next to him.
I escaped and finally grabbed a seat next to Richard, who'd already ordered a drink for himself (really, this wasn't a date), and he introduced me to his new Padna' - Mr. Richard Glasscock (it's probably not cool for me to use this guy's real name, but that was his REAL NAME so, I just have to). There I was, sitting in between the Dicks, who were swapping stories about some Louisiana delicacy that is known as a slang term that even I won't type out loud.
Bless my heart.
I was sitting there, counting the bottles behind the bar and swirling the ice in my glass trying to figure out how on earth I could find a way to contribute to this conversation, when lo and behold - my dreams came true! In the door came a whole host of Aggies in town for the bowl game lookin for a cool place to grab some libations. (I only hang out at cool places, so clearly they had made a good choice.) It was like a scene in a movie: someone dreamy walks in the door, time slows, the wind blows, a strange light appears, and they suddenly have the need to run their very Texan looking hand through their longish tresses. Through the door walked a guy who looked exactly like my very favorite pretend high school football player. I quickly shot an excited text to erikascrimp who promptly gave me permission to ditch Richard.
Bless my heart!
If only I were a woman without moral scruples, I would have done just that. But alas, I loyally stayed put and lamely attempted to re-engage the Richards - who now, were discussing how adorable my friend Richard & I were together. Why on earth wasn't this a date and why hadn't my Richard made a move yet? Oh Lord. My Richard was LOVING this guy. Coincidentally at that very moment, one of the bartenders came up to me, leaned his elbows on the bar, leaned forward and said, "Hey stranger."
In the dark room, under his dark baseball hat, I realized that this stranger happened to be my very first ever major crush, circa 1996ish. Turns out, he spent so much time hanging out at this particular watering hole, they hired him to bartend (I have very good taste). Ever hour he'd spent in that place showed well on him, and the mullet he now has gave the Dicks quite a bit of ammo for their argument that I should be "with" my Richard. That was fun for me.
We finally got a standing, leaning, slurring goodbye from the other Dick (my Richard informed me that the standing and leaning was so that Dick could get a good look at "the ladies", and then he proceeded to inform me that he too does that from time to time. That was fun for me). And about that time, all the TCU cats were coming out for their Thursday evening shenanigans [side story: this place is very much so a "jeans and t-shirt" kind of place, so imagine my annoyance when all these Phillies show up in cute little dresses and goin' out clothes. One of these said females skips up to the bar right next to me to order a drink and shamelessly squealed to the bartender "I looooooooooooove your shirt!!!!! (which was a black t-shirt that read something like, "I need to find my zombies") Perplexed, I had to ask her what his shirt meant. "Is that a band or something?" Bless her heart. She looked at me like I was out of place and said "I just like zombies." Oh. Well. Obviously]. I finally convinced my friend that it was time.to.leave. His friend had left. My Texan football player had left. And zombies had become a hot topic. (Richard was very excited to tell me the he preferred to fight zombies and not robots in the Apocalypse).
He paid his tab. I paid my tab (not a date). I drove (again, not a date) us back to my house and politely, since it was so cold of course, dropped Richard off at his door before pulling my car into the garage. Hoping I'd escaped an oogey, prolonged goodbye hug, Richard gets out, walks to my side of the car, opens my door and wants a hug. Did I mention it was cold?!
That was fun for me.
Bless his heart.
He's trying really hard to make some improvements in his life, and so I was very pleasantly pleased when he text me early in the week asking if he could please reserve an evening of my time this week. I fully expected him to be a half hour early, in a tuxedo t-shirt, and wearing crocs, but he had done so well in politely asking to hang out with me so many days in advance that I had to agree (not to mention the fact that the other two contributors to this blog and I made a deal to never turn down a potential Weebles entry experience).
I suggested we go to a movie. In conjunction with being highly inappropriate 75% of the time, Richard has a knack for being kinda grabby, so I felt like a movie was a safe outing for us. We wouldn't have to talk, but we'd still be hanging out. But Richard wasn't gonna let that fly; much to my hesitation, I agreed to go to a bar that's down the road from my house for a few drinks with him. He had offered to come to my side of town - so again, I had to agree.
Bless his heart.
He was half an hour late, but we eventually made it to the place. Relatively early for a Thursday night, it was more or less empty when we walked in. We were making our way to a couple of stools at the bar when all of the sudden someone starts yelling my name. I mean, yelling my name. I weirdly start looking around the dark room - who on earth would yell in a place like this? - when a man at a table on the opposite side stands up, holds his arms out, and starts walking towards me. Good 'ol Dick left me standing awkwardly in the middle of the bar and made his way without me to his seat, while this stranger yelling my name continued towards me.
Thankfully, I did know this guy (and only figured it out when he said his name in my ear while he was hugging me. That was fun). He turned out to be, not a stalker, but my former boss; a very kind man who always thought very highly of me but is just old enough and has just enough of a creeper inebriate thing going for him that he can make a single girl feel oogey. I kept looking over at Richard in hopes that he'd rescue me, but he was preoccupied with the new friend he was making - the guy sitting at the bar next to him.
I escaped and finally grabbed a seat next to Richard, who'd already ordered a drink for himself (really, this wasn't a date), and he introduced me to his new Padna' - Mr. Richard Glasscock (it's probably not cool for me to use this guy's real name, but that was his REAL NAME so, I just have to). There I was, sitting in between the Dicks, who were swapping stories about some Louisiana delicacy that is known as a slang term that even I won't type out loud.
Bless my heart.
I was sitting there, counting the bottles behind the bar and swirling the ice in my glass trying to figure out how on earth I could find a way to contribute to this conversation, when lo and behold - my dreams came true! In the door came a whole host of Aggies in town for the bowl game lookin for a cool place to grab some libations. (I only hang out at cool places, so clearly they had made a good choice.) It was like a scene in a movie: someone dreamy walks in the door, time slows, the wind blows, a strange light appears, and they suddenly have the need to run their very Texan looking hand through their longish tresses. Through the door walked a guy who looked exactly like my very favorite pretend high school football player. I quickly shot an excited text to erikascrimp who promptly gave me permission to ditch Richard.
Bless my heart!
If only I were a woman without moral scruples, I would have done just that. But alas, I loyally stayed put and lamely attempted to re-engage the Richards - who now, were discussing how adorable my friend Richard & I were together. Why on earth wasn't this a date and why hadn't my Richard made a move yet? Oh Lord. My Richard was LOVING this guy. Coincidentally at that very moment, one of the bartenders came up to me, leaned his elbows on the bar, leaned forward and said, "Hey stranger."
In the dark room, under his dark baseball hat, I realized that this stranger happened to be my very first ever major crush, circa 1996ish. Turns out, he spent so much time hanging out at this particular watering hole, they hired him to bartend (I have very good taste). Ever hour he'd spent in that place showed well on him, and the mullet he now has gave the Dicks quite a bit of ammo for their argument that I should be "with" my Richard. That was fun for me.
We finally got a standing, leaning, slurring goodbye from the other Dick (my Richard informed me that the standing and leaning was so that Dick could get a good look at "the ladies", and then he proceeded to inform me that he too does that from time to time. That was fun for me). And about that time, all the TCU cats were coming out for their Thursday evening shenanigans [side story: this place is very much so a "jeans and t-shirt" kind of place, so imagine my annoyance when all these Phillies show up in cute little dresses and goin' out clothes. One of these said females skips up to the bar right next to me to order a drink and shamelessly squealed to the bartender "I looooooooooooove your shirt!!!!! (which was a black t-shirt that read something like, "I need to find my zombies") Perplexed, I had to ask her what his shirt meant. "Is that a band or something?" Bless her heart. She looked at me like I was out of place and said "I just like zombies." Oh. Well. Obviously]. I finally convinced my friend that it was time.to.leave. His friend had left. My Texan football player had left. And zombies had become a hot topic. (Richard was very excited to tell me the he preferred to fight zombies and not robots in the Apocalypse).
He paid his tab. I paid my tab (not a date). I drove (again, not a date) us back to my house and politely, since it was so cold of course, dropped Richard off at his door before pulling my car into the garage. Hoping I'd escaped an oogey, prolonged goodbye hug, Richard gets out, walks to my side of the car, opens my door and wants a hug. Did I mention it was cold?!
That was fun for me.
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