I'm Getting the Hang of It
I went to a party tonight, and while I was there, I realized I have become borderline rude with single women. Which probably guarantees that they will start finding me much more attractive.
Women generally don't do a hell of a lot to keep a conversation with a single man going. Somehow that has become the man's job. Which is not all that bad, if the woman is attractive. But random women you meet at parties? Or worse, business associates who don't know the difference between work manners and date manners? Uh...no. You have to contribute too, sweetie. I am not Teddy Ruxpin.
I think I realized I was becoming rude when a girl I went to high school with hollered at me at a restaurant earlier this year. This was not a friend. It was just someone I knew. Nice-looking, but no potential whatsoever. And married, as far as I knew. Although the odds are pretty high that that ended a long time ago. I wouldn't know. If she's hailing men in restaurants, it's not a good sign.
Anyway, I walked over to be polite, and I talked to her for a couple of minutes, and then there was a five-second lull, and I said something like, "Nice seeing you bye." And she looked at me like I had pulled a turnip out of my ear.
Hey, we were talking about stuff that bored me. People she was friends with, but who I never gave a crap about. And she ran out of material, and I didn't feel like extemporizing. DING! Time to move on, right? Was I missing something? Buh BYE. Talk to you again in ten years. Was I supposed to take you to a motel or what?
I kind of surprised myself, dismissing her like that. But in retrospect, I felt like it was the right thing to do.
Tonight someone introduced me to a woman, and then the person who introduced us ran away, so I was stuck. In around two minutes, ended up talking about my work, which I really did not feel like doing. Regardless of what women's idiot mothers tell them, men do not always enjoy talking about themselves endlessly. After what I thought was a respectable amount of time, I said, "Well, nice meeting you." And I went and sat down at a table, leaving her standing there.
You know what? It's OKAY to do that. I wish I had figured that out twenty years ago.
After that, a friend introduced me to a divorced lady. Very nice, I guess, and she looked good for her age. But I had no interest in her whatsoever. Luckily, there were other people around, so I didn't have to talk to her. I barely said three words to her. I know better. But later on she decided to talk to me anyway. And within a few minutes she was telling me she was going to teach me to a) smile, b) enjoy dancing, and c) tan.
Oh God. If there is one thing men love, it's having strange women tell them they need to change.
And she picked three things that really give me ulcers. Some people are not physically capable of smiling easily, just like some people can't touch their toes. It is normal for them not to go around grinning like village idiots. And I tried to like dancing, and I finally realized I did not have the dancing gene and never would, and that it was normal and healthy and acceptable for me to not dance. And after being in Miami this long, I want to punch people who give me shit for being white. It's normal. It's healthy. It's not a goddamn disease. I do not owe it to society to get a tan. Which I can't get anyway. And yes, I am intelligent enough to know whether I can tan. Yes, I know how to do it. Yes, I have tried. No, it did not work.
I left abruptly, right after that, only saying goodbye to my friends and people I could not avoid saying goodbye to, because they were right in front of me. Boom, I was gone. I appreciated the invitation. The person who invited me is someone I really think highly of, and I wanted to stay long enough to support her. But I was pooped, and I didn't want to talk to any more single women.
This was not my fault. I was the farthest thing from charming. I made no effort to engage this woman. I actually avoided her. And still.
It's gotten to where I don't even care if they're nice, attractive women who mean well. If the conversation is flat and they have no potential, pull the chute and get away. Don't stand around trying to amuse them. They'll survive the rejection. I always have. I don't know why women expect constant entertainment, but it's probably good for them to find out they are responsible for half of every conversation. And the way women love to talk, you would think that would be a wonderful surprise. Once you marry them, they never shut up. So it's amazing that they expect men to talk at all, ever.
Maybe I'm really settling into bachelorhood. Maybe when a woman starts yapping at me, I look at her and realize I just don't need the aggravation and the bullshit and the expense and the disruption in my wonderful routine. I think of everything I'd have to give up, and I look at her, and I think, "For THAT?"
It reminds me of something Mike said, which I thought was funny at the time. We were talking on the phone about women, and he said, "Women take and take and take." But damn, he was right. If you get the wrong one. And you almost certainly will. You end up with a parasitic organism which uses you to feed its larvae while restricting sex and destroying your hobbies and pleasures. You're sort of like those caterpillars wasps lay their eggs in, carrying the baby wasps around on their sides while they wither and grow feeble. And the alternative is to spend your own money and do the things you love to do and never have to worry about someone taking your house and your savings. That's my current situation. Thank God I dodged a few really big bullets.
I guess I'd feel different if I had any faith at all in my ability to distinguish decent women from shitty ones.
In other news, I forgot to record Cavemen, so I would appreciate some reviews if you have time.
