Dating Espionage

I believe I was sick the day in second, maybe third grade, when teachers separated the boys from the girls and taught each gender how to ultimately mind-fuck those of the opposite sex — a form of dating espionage that to this day I still remain completely unschooled in.  I wonder how those courses would have gone?

I’m under the general impression that if someone thinks you should know something, he or she should just tell you, because with me, if you want to know something, just ask. I have found that this motto holds as much water as a gestating anorexic whilst trying to decipher the cryptic code the opposite sex communicates in — at least when it comes to courting a girl with a mental penis. This got me thinking: it may not be their expectations that aren’t being reached — perhaps they’re mine.

I don’t ask if my ass looks fat in pants; I’d rather watch the Pistons play than have my mind numbed by The Hills; and “Coach” is the show starring Craig T. Nelson. Maybe wires cross, because after having nothing but guys in my family growing up and nothing but guys as friends in life, I know that mostly when guys say they want a girl with a sense of humor, they mean they want a girl that will laugh at their jokes. When they say they want a girl with that “natural” look, they mean they don’t want the boob job to be obvious, and when they meet you in a bar and get your number while taking a picture with their cell phone, they are doing this so they will remember what you look like tomorrow.

I love my boys and make a great wingman, but maybe being so in tune with that world leaves me little in touch with my feminine wiles. I don’t know if the problem is I can so easily see through the bullshit or that I am so full of said bullshit.

On the other edge of that sword, I’m not one to go hit on a guy — mostly I am with a bunch of guys and this usually serves as a deterrent for any game-playing. Even if an opening round occurs and things seem to be going well, it never seems to proceed to that next level of, oh, say an actual date. This is where my confusion lands so heavily. If a guy is interested, he acts interested; if he’s not, he doesn’t. Should we rely on “he’s just not that into you?” Is there a gray area? Normally I would say no, but living in the city of oversized apples and neuroses proves to be a lesson in percentages and odds. It’s not that we are dealing with your everyday guys; we ladies of neon and chrome are just dealing with a crapshoot. So I’ve devised a simple pie chart to help ease the sting of deciphering signs and codes and other forms of dating espionage. The odds are good but the goods are odd. Enjoy and remember: he may be into you, he may not be, or he may be drinking from a completely different tea set.

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