FW:FW:FW: Things Girls Don’t Realize About Guys – THE TRUTH

Posted on November 13, 2008

My friends, we live in a time of utmost uncertainty. The internets are rife with information that is incomplete, half-true, or just plain wrong.

Take for instance, an e-mail I got this morning while I was wasting time on Twitter looking for another job. The subject: Things girls don’t realize…Take NOTE. Looking at the headers, I saw that it was forwarded to dozens upon dozens of netizens, some friends, some strangers; with so many unsuspecting lives at stake, I decided to take the risk of opening said e-mail, and judge the worth of its contents for itself:

5. Guys hate it when you talk about your ex-boyfriend or ex love-interest. Unless they’re goin for the let-her-complain-to-you-and-then-have-her-realize-how-wonderful-and-nice-you-are method.

This is demonstrably FALSE. In the checkered past of my female relationships, having little going for me but my “niceness”, I have tried this approach, and I can assure you, dear readers, that it DOES NOT WORK. What usually happens is that the male will tolerate discussion of his rival up to a certain point, after which he will either:

  1. Lash out against girl.
  2. Have a nervous breakdown.
  3. Impatiently blurt out secret, forbidden, romantic feelings, culminating in awkwardness, embarrassment, and possibly a restraining order.

If you don’t believe my hard-earned experience, perhaps you’ll believe the following clip from Felicity. For most of the first season, Noel Crane (the nervous-looking dude pacing around), though harboring feelings for the title character, has been reduced to the embarrassing “best friend” role, which Felicity conveniently uses to complain to him about her real love interest – Ben. Despite his best intentions, it all comes to a head one night during finals week:

Granted, he was on “smart powder” – a substance that makes Ephedra look like cough syrup. But the point is QED, no? Learn from Noel’s mistakes.

2. Guys may be flirting around all day, but before they go to sleep, they always think about the girl they truly care about.

This is TRUE. So ladies, don’t be mad when you discover breathy voicemails on our phones, strange credit card bills from hotels, or suspicious perfume smells in our car. Whether we’re really working late or not, rest assured, we are thinking about you. We wonder whether you’ll notice that small red mark just above our collarbone.

4. Guys will do anything just to get you to notice him.

TRUE, unfortunately. Among the things I have done to impress women:

  1. Fixed their computers (which have usually seen more virus infections than the CDC)
  2. Written “Heavily edited” whole papers.
  3. Derived thermodynamic equations.
  4. Wrote an O(|E|+|V| log V) implementation of Dijkstra’s Algorithm.

The logic behind it seemed so infallible – my undying love would be unmistakable, if not through my words, then through the gusto and cleverness with which I approached said tasks. Did it work? Usually they just thanked me graciously, and moved on. Once or twice I was offered a vanilla latte. Unfortunately, as you can see, discussing search algorithms is not a particularly effective form of flirtation. :-/

34. When a guy hits your butt it means that he wants you sexually

This is most definitely FALSE – unless he’s itching to see the inside of a courtroom.

There used to be a time when men could sashay down most any boulevard, wolf whistling, poking, and prodding without worrying about troublesome things such as feminism, a woman’s dignity, etc, etc, etc. As poor Isiah Thomas found out earlier this year, times have changed; these days, men actually have to be civil in their dealings with the fairer sex. Imagine that!

Thus, any man with a head on his shoulders, or at least a good lawyer, will only touch the posterior of a woman with whom he is in a relationship. And if he’s in a relationship with said woman, the presence of sexual desire is usually not a question. Otherwise, we can usually file it under the category “Accident”.

It happened to me, on the bus, in seventh grade. As I held up my Discman to change the CD, the prettiest girl in the grade chose that moment to slide up the aisle. There was brief contact between fabric and fingers; she turned around, shocked and not amused:

“What the f-you touched me!”

“I couldn’t help it!” I said weakly. “I mean, they were right there…”

To make a long story short, I nearly ended up in the principal’s office, when my hand was merely in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Having just reread this message, I realize I was supposed to forward it within a hour of reading. As a result, I have lost the girl of my dreams, will start losing my hair, and will die of drug-resistant pneumonia. Please consider this information carefully, readers, so my…sacrifice…was not…in vain…

» Filed Under Everything and Nothing, Writing


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