Tag Archives: men

He’s Just Not That Into You!

Ok I know this film came out a long time ago.

However, the fact that I have ADD, and, like, a life, means that I rarely get to see films, much less romantic comedies.  That said, I meant to see this film FOREVER, because it is one of my favourite books and probably the reason why all of my girl friends’ boyfriends hated me in college.  Whateva.

Anywho. The film was supa funny and is now one of my favourite films because it was hilariously awkward…in fact, it was even TOO AWKWARD at times.  Remember that I have a high awkwardness threshold friends, so when I say it was intense, I mean this bitch was whack.

Anyway, because I LOVE this book and because apparently some bitches is whack, I am devoting this posting to all my crazy bitches out there.

And in case you were wondering, my love of this book stems from the fact that I dated a guy who was just not that into me for about three years. I know, how tragic.

Well this is why I now like to run my mouth about keeping men in line, because sadly I failed to get the point that homeboy was not into me for way too long, and I know I’m not the only one who has done this.

About the book: it is set up according to excuses.  It is outlined by the excuses guys make because making excuses is easier than saying “I’m just not that into you.” As they put it in the book: He is a man made up entirely of your excuses.  And the minute you stop making excuses for him, he will completely disappear from your life.

Unfortunately, I do not know where my copy of this book is, I may have given it away or it may be in storage, so I obtained some excerpts and interpreted them accordingly.  You’re welcome.

The “He Is Super Busy Right Now” Excuse

Don’t let the “honeys” and the “babys” fool you.  His sweet nothings are exactly that.  They are much easier to say than “I’m just not that into you.”  Remember, actions speak louder than, “There’s no cell reception where I am right now.”

Calling when you say you’re going to call is the very first brick in the house you are building of love and trust.  If he can’t lay this one stupid brick down, you ain’t never gonna have a house, baby.  And it’s cold outside.

The “But He Just Needs Some Time” Excuse

Cut your losses and don’t waste your time .  Why stay in some weird dating limbo when you can move on to what will surely be better territory? Don’t want to hear it?  Fine.  Here’s the answer you’re looking for, “Hang in there, baby.  He’s not the loser everybody’s telling you he is.  If you wait and keep your mouth shut and call at exactly the right time and anticipate his moods and have no expectations about communication or your own sexual needs, you can have him!”  But please don’t be surprised if he dumps you or continues to drag you through a completely unsatisfying relationship.

The “He Is Just Shy” Excuse

Men, for the most part, like to pursue women.  We (men) like not knowing if we can catch you.  We feel rewarded when we do.

The “He Is Worried About Damaging The Friendship” Excuse

He will always be able to play the “friend” card on you.  He only  has to be responsible for the expectations of a friend, rather than the the far greater expectations of a boyfriend.  He’s got the ultimate situation: a great friend with all the benefits of a girlfriend, whom he can see or not see whenever he wants to.  He may be one of your closest friends, but I’m sorry to say … as a boyfriend, he’s just not that into you.

Beware of the word “friend”.  It can often be used by men or the women that love them to excuse the most unfriendly behavior.  Personally, when I’m picking friends, I like the ones who don’t make me cry myself to sleep.

The “He Wants To Take It Slow” Excuse

I don’t want to be “sort of dating” someone.  I don’t want to be “kinda hanging out” with someone.  I don’t want to spend a lot of energy suppressing my feelings so I appear uninvolved.  I want to be involved.  I want to be sleeping with someone I know I’ll see again because they’ve already demonstarted to me that they’re trustworthy and honorable — and into me.

Alright I think my place in Heaven has now been reserved.  Please think about these wise words from Liz and Greg the next time your lova starts acting up, and if you are into praying or that sort of thing, I’d appreciate you putting in a good word for me because I have been sinning a lot lately and I am a little concerned.

x C

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Then what? My boobs are too big?

True story–I once got dumped for loving the film from which this awesome line was taken (aka Legally Blonde). He just could not get over it.

Clearly, I do not think it is a brilliant film, but I think the message is important–kind of muffled by the fact that the main character fails to exhibit any clear sign of intelligence, but an important message nonetheless.  That is, that you should not judge a book by its cover.

My freshman year of college, I found out halfway through the year that the girls from my hall called me ‘Barbie’ behind my back.  It was very hurtful, especially when I heard some of the really malicious things they’d said.  In fact, it still upsets me…I didn’t do anything to them, and yes I enjoy the color pink, but to be so needlessly bitchy is just so wrong in my book.

My point is–I can relate to the character in that film, because I feel like I constantly have to deal with people’s incorrect premature assessments and after a while, it gets old. Like, REALLY FUCKING OLD.

What I mean is…people are constantly treating me like I’m dumb. This isn’t a projection either, because one half of the time, they’re verbally telling me that ‘it’s okay if I just don’t get it’ or something along those lines–and the other half of the time, they’re in utter shock (sometimes even telling me so) when they get a chance to see that their perceptions of me are wrong.

So I can’t figure out what it is that makes people get this impression of me.  Is it the fact that I’m actually rather dim?  Have people just been being nice to me? I don’t know…intelligence is such an odd thing, and there’s probably nothing more difficult than attempting to assess one’s own level of it.  However, I tend to think this is not the case based upon the only objective information I have, which would be testing I’ve had done by a psychologist…which indicated that I’m somewhat of a smarty.  So, granting that I’m reasonably intelligent (though we’ll never know for sure), what is it that makes people think otherwise?

I think part of it could be that I’m a bit goofy, and giggly, and as a friend so affectionately put it, ‘bubble-headed’–I don’t fancy myself an airhead, but I also don’t jump at every opportunity to showcase my intelligence.  Not saying I have this great degree of intelligence, as perhaps I’m really dense and unaware of it, but in my experience, people are generally rather eager to assert themselves in this manner.  It’s just not my thing.

Still, although not particularly serious, I don’t think my behaviour gives any indication that I’m dumb.

So what is it?

Well, I’m sorry to say it, but I think I’m slowly starting to believe that people judge books by their covers.  Maybe I am naive to have not realised it sooner?

There are many reasons why I think this, but I’ll give you one big example–I have always had the biggest problem with uber-intense math/science nerds (as in, science nerds that are +2 sds from the mean).  I say the word “nerds” in the nicest way possible because I am a total geekette and actually took offense to it when my lover questioned my nerdiness.  But that is not the point.   The point is, I’m making a generalization about my experiences with a particular group of people–a group of people whom I have found, on the whole, to be quite socially awkward, not especially attractive, and really, probably lacking in certain aspects of their lives.  This is not an analysis I made prematurely, or out of spite, as I have been dealing with these people for a long time, and I treat them as I would anyone else…and once I get to know them, most of them are really cool people.  HOWEVER, it is my belief that this particular sort of person so values their intelligence as being exceptional, and is so psychologically invested in it in terms of self-esteem, that coming upon someone who does not share their more negative traits, but does share their most valued trait, is just too much for them to handle.  Therefore, in accordance with the theory of cognitive dissonance, they decide that said person (i.e. me) could not possibly be as intellectually capable as they are.

Sexual frustration is not a pretty thing.

I’m working on a research project right now–because I was ASKED, mind you, not because I wanted to do it, because it is not in my area of expertise.  Nonetheless, I thought it would be fun–and it is.  Difficult, but fun.  However, a few of my colleagues are really not very nice to me and I don’t know how to deal with it–perhaps I am not 100% as qualified as they are (since some of them ARE pseudo-experts in this area) but the bottom line is, we’re all doing the same shit, meaning none of us are complete imbeciles.  Yet whenever I ask a question, their facial expressions and excessively simplistic explanation suggest that they think I’m completely clueless.  Just yesterday, I questioned a colleague’s (negative) analysis of something I’d done, only to have him look it over and tell me that I did indeed do it properly, and he was sorry because he’d ‘just assumed I had no idea what was going on’–you ASSUMED I had no idea what was going on?  Did you even LOOK AT my work?

MORAL OF THE STORY: DO NOT JUDGE A BOOK BY ITS COVER, BLOGGA BUDDIES

Okay, rant over.  I’m just sick of people harshing my chill, you know?

xx Charlee

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best marketing strategy ever

I’m not a fan of reality tv.

I did watch the first Bachelorette and quite enjoyed it, but I believe that was primarily due to the fact that I was about 13.  Actually–that isn’t true–I’d probably watch a ton of shit tv if it weren’t for the fact that I have severe ADHD that prevents me from boob tubing it for more than about 30 minutes.  But the point is, this post is about The Bachelor.  (Accordingly, I apologize in advance if I don’t have my facts straight!)

I cannot imagine my outrage if I’d actually watched the show, but holy media saturation, batman!  I’m pretty sure that I’ve heard about what happened about 30 times within the past few days.

So, if you did not hear or are unfamiliar with the idea behind the show, the shortened version is that homeboy (‘The Bachelor’) lives out many a male fantasy with a harem of women who are grossly smitten by him from day one.  He dates them, they cry, he gives them roses and kicks them to the curb, they cry some more and declare homeboy The One.  One of these lucky women (barf) gets chosen by ‘The Bachelor’ and he proposes.

Well, this time, they did not walk hand in hand off set only to break up 8 months later.  This time, they broke up a month later.

But that isn’t all my friends.  No, that is NOT all.  Homeboy declared that he was just not that into the girl he’d PROPOSED to only a few weeks earlier, and decided that the lady he sent packing was indeed the one he should have chosen.

Disregarding the obvious stupidity of the entire ordeal, I have to say that there is no way that could be legit–as in, not manufactured by the producers of the program.  Who in the hell cared about the Bachelor a few weeks ago?  (Okay, I suppose there is a group of single 20-something women splitting their time between drooling over engagement rings and thinking about this program.)  But now, it has been getting so much attention…mostly because of the sheer ridiculousness of it, but even so, there’s no such thing as bad publicity my friends.

The dude from the show claims he simply had a “change of heart” or whatever.  I have a few things to say about this.  Number one: not only is he 32, but he has a child.  What kind of person is he that he plans to marry a woman and then ditches her for another?  I don’t really believe he would be so irresponsible with such a serious choice, especially given the fact that he is rather old and is making choices not only for himself, but for his son.  I would like to make another point–and I would like to thank People Magazine for assisting me with this:

WHAT IN THE HELL IS HE WEARING????

No, really.  REALLY.  How could 30 women be into a guy who dresses like a Fall Out Boy reject turned Abercrombie model??

I mean okay, he probably didn’t choose his own clothing on the show?  I pray this is the case and some overzealous costume designer (who is obviously oh-so-talented, to land such an enviable position!) misperceived the fact that he is not cool enough or–okay I’ll say it–young enough to pull that shit off.  He seriously looks like a fool.

I just had to let that out.

Anyway, I give hella props to the people behind this stunt because not unlike most people (since I don’t think the show is too highly rated), it takes a lot for me to think about The Bachelor and I’ve not only thought about it, but become interested in it, and even written a weblog about it.  And that, my friends, is the magic of marketing!

x C

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i am the queen of indecision

Sorry I have been MIA from blogga world!   That is partly because I’ve been very busy (barf) but also because a few rather difficult events have occurred recently in my life, and it’s hard to write about something relatively trivial when someone (or in my case, someoneS) that you love are going through serious sh*t.  At the same time, to try to write about the intense life-and-death events that have recently occurred is quite difficult also–I actually find writing rather therapeutic and began to write a posting about the things that have happened, but then I started to question if I really felt comfortable putting that much of myself–that much incredibly personal information–out into the world.

I’m an incredibly private person, and I know that is something people say fairly often, but I really am exceptionally private to the point that I’ve been called ‘secretive’.  It’s not that I really go out of my way to keep things to myself, it’s just that I don’t understand others’ expectation to be privy to the goings-on in my life; this is something that seems to really bother a lot of people in my life, but one has to wonder why our society has become one where everyone’s entire lives are completely public and “out-there”.  Since when did it become normal to chronicle our entire lives for our friends–and even strangers, and why has it become the norm to expose oneself rather intimately, seemingly without a second thought?

Seriously–facebook, myspace, weblogs–how much of yourself do you put on the internet for all to see?  I find facebook quite invasive, and to be frank, a bit freaky, but it’s basically unavoidable.  That said, I rarely use it and don’t really have very much information/photos/etc. on there, nor will I become “friends” with someone on there unless I know them incredibly well.  Facebook has long freaked me out, and I did have a weblog before this one, but it was anonymous.  Oddly enough, until recently, I hadn’t given a second thought to the implications of having a weblog and writing about my entire life, but I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately.

For some reason, to me, it feels as though putting certain aspects of my life out there for public consumption trivializes them.  This is just another way that I seem weird to my friends apparently, but it happens to be a facet of who I am that the nature of things and the philosophy behind many aspects of my existence consumes me at times.  I just feel like I need to own my life and my relationships–and I know that one might wonder how sharing things with people changes that–and I suppose in reality, it doesn’t, but the idea of speaking casually and nonchalantly about the things that are dear to me–the things in my life that I consider sacred–just isn’t appealing to me.  I’d rather not discuss them at all.

Not to mention–it isn’t anyone’s fucking business…I couldn’t care less about the details of my friends’ relationships, etc. (unless of course they are seeking advice or comfort or whatever) so I don’t know why they not only care about that information, but seem to think I am obligated to share it.

Part of the reason I am so weird about this could be that I come from a somewhat public family, and I probably on some level resent that, even if I don’t consciously think I do.

Anyway, I will most likely get over this soon, because I do enjoy writing on here and it is rather cathartic in a lot of ways.  Sometimes my crazy need for privacy just becomes extra intense, or as my therapist would say, I have ‘intimacy issues’ at times.

Hope all is chill with you, blogga-buddies! :)

xx Charlee

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f my life

Firstly, if you have missed out on the brilliance of this website, then I suggest you check out fmylife.com!  It is quite hilarious, and totally my sense of humour, as there is nothing I find more amusing that the absurdity of everyday life.

Secondly…my apologies for being a delinquent blogga.  I spent the majority of last week paying for my one day of freedom with extreme productivity and also dealt with a bit of an internal conflict regarding the concept of keeping a weblog.  But I’m chillin’ now…so it is all good.

Thirdly, the past week or so has been overflowing with manly misadventures so  I suppose I shall update you on what has gone down!

I made the rainbow cake (which will be a tale for another day) for Mason and he kind of freaked out…he made such a big deal out of it that I didn’t really know what to say or do.  I am generally immune to awkwardness, but I didn’t really think it was a huge deal, and he acted like I’d given him a kidney.  Marley told me this was because I was ‘clearly declaring my love for him, à la Napoleon Dynamite’ (in the film Napoleon’s sidekick with a poor grasp of the English language, Pedro, suggests that in order to ask a girl to a dance, Napoleon “bake her a cake or something”).  This left me feeling like a big dork, a sentiment that was only made worse the day after Mason’s party when my coworker Theresa commented that Mason ‘looked like he was going to cry’ when I gave him the cake.  Not exactly the reaction I was going for.

This strange situation was further compounded by the fact that I had to work Saturday night–I had volunteered to work on Valentine’s Day because I’m not the biggest fan of said cheesefest and especially of the behaviour it tends to induce in Mr. Martini, although I was no more interested in spending the “holiday” with any of the other men in my life right now.  Not to mention, I knew most of my coworkers were in relationships so I thought it would be nice if they could have the night off to recite poetry and listen to Sinatra.  See, I’m not entirely bitter!

However, Mason switched shifts with someone so that we could work together Saturday night…so that ‘my Valentine’s Day wouldn’t completely suck’.  I thought this was very sweet, and was quite excited that we’d be spending the evening together–even if it were to be spent at work.  After the cake incident, though, I was a bit weirded out about this, especially since he has a girlfriend–I imagine they are on the verge of breaking up, but nonetheless, I’m not trying to spend singles awareness day with someone who is not single…

Then there’s Mr. Martini, who spent the weekend here despite my numerous reminders that I would not be available on Saturday, and true to form, planned a super over-the-top date for Friday night.

Unfortunately, one of my very best friends was dumped by her EVIL boyfriend on Thursday.  Yup, you read that correctly.  Her boyfriend of five years broke up with her right before Valentine’s Day.  I cannot tell you how angry this makes me, but I am comforted by the fact that I know karma will come back to bite him in his sorry ass.

So, considering that my friend was feeling a bit psycho-crazy, I thought it best to not leave her alone Friday night…however, I also felt awful cancelling on Mr. Martini.  So, I told him what was up, and because he is so crazy awesome, he said that she could come along.  I also felt like getting her out and about and wined and dined would be good for her morale.  And my dear, sweet, Mr. Martini was so very cool about it and even got roses and chocolate for my friend.  How nice is that?  I was really happy that he was so nice about her crashing because we hadn’t seen each other in a while and I think he was looking forward to some intense romance…but, he was perfectly kind and understanding, he even listened to my friend moan throughout the entire evening and was totally sincerely sympathetic and comforting.  It made me appreciate him so much more, because I know he isn’t particularly fond of this friend and we haven’t been on the best terms, and the fact that he was so sweet about the whole thing was just incredibly endearing.

Blah blah blah, this entry is boring me…

To sum things up, Mason and I had fun making fun of the yucky couples on Valentine’s Day, and my girlfriend joined in, as she chilled at the coffee shoppe all night so she would not be ‘drowning in an ocean of tears’ as she so nonchalantly put it.  Then, the three of us went out and drank massive amounts of tequila and continued to have a number of laughs at the expense of Cupid et al.

However, tequila has long been an enemy of mine, something I conveniently forget all-too-often, and upon approaching Mr. Martini’s hotel, I felt the uncontrollable impulse to tell the cab driver I needed to get out.  It is true, I showed up at my (ex) lover’s hotel room at 2 am on Valentine’s Day, exceptionally intoxicated.  How tragic am I?

Mr. Martini was awake and seemed pleased to see me, although I do believe he was somewhat taken aback by my drunken state as I tend to be on my best behaviour in his presence.  I don’t recall much but I believe I went to sleep straightaway, presumably after confessing my undying love and devotion to him.  The next morning, I awoke quite late and probably looking somewhat reminiscent of roadkill, to an awesome champagne breakfast (I obviously skipped the bubbly) and Mr. Martini smirking at me and inquiring as to when we were going to ‘talk about last night’.  I believe I told him “never”, and left it at that–truthfully, I kind of wish that Mr. Martini had skipped the very sweet gesture of ordering breakfast because I was probably blushing throughout the meal and really, really just wanted to leave.

But it gets better.  I arrived at work yesterday to discover that Mason and my friend had spent the night together, ‘but nothing happened.’  My friend confirmed this supposed innocence, but  it’s kind of the latest turn-off in a string of unappealing actions for Mason–not least of all because I think it highly inappropriate for someone with a girlfriend to be sharing a bed with anyone…and certainly not my best friend who just had her heart broken.  Although he tells me “she said she just didn’t want to be alone” and he “felt bad”, to me this screams of shadiness.  Perhaps I am imagining it though…maybe they’re both just oddballs. In any case, it makes me think to myself, “fuck my life”.

So tonight I must face Mr. Martini…and I am really embarrassed because I unfortunately have very little recollection of the other night.  Boo!

…f my life. :)

I hope everyone out there in blogga-land had a fantastic Valentine’s Day, devoid of drunken debauchery and intoxicated impromptu sonnets!

xx Charlee

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i am a ‘BAMF’

Hah!  Not really.

I am indeed being a rebel by playing hooky today though.  Of course this is nothing new for me, but lately I’ve been quite responsible, and this morning as I was trying to fall asleep (at 5 am), I cringed at the thought that I had to work (at the coffee shop), go to two classes, get a project done for my other job, and somehow manage to bake a treat for Mason and obviously sex myself up for the festivities tonight.  It was simply too awful for me to bear the fact that my effort was going to be a waste,  because crazy tiredness (from extreme lack of sleep), and the brain burn resulting from contributing to society all day would have prevented from enjoying myself at the party, thereby killing my buzz.  Quite literally.

So I’m being naughty, and I couldn’t be happier about it!  It reminds me of the good old days…my stoned slacker days, as I fondly call them.

I blew off EVERYTHING, and even lied about it–this is something I have never done before, because for all of my neglect of responsibility, I am nothing if not honest.  Through all of college, through all of life, I have made it a point not to make excuses for my actions, especially bogus excuses.  However, it suddenly came to me not all that long ago that part of life in our society is bs-ing.  As I believe I have said before, my main purpose in life is keeping it real, so I had some trouble accepting this.  Even when I was always getting in trouble for not doing shit and my friends were claiming their grandmothers had died, I kept my mouth shut–but therein lies the problem.  It may sound silly that I really didn’t figure this out until recently, but apparently not saying anything gives the impression that you just don’t give a fuck.  People expect you to make excuses.  I’m not even going to get into how stupid this is, but I’m happy to say that I don’t feel bad at all about lying to my bosses or prof today, because I think in the end it’s less rude than not saying anything and I’m probably doing good in terms of their egos by making them think their nonsense is important to me.

(Side note: I can seriously rationalise anything.  It kind of freaks me out.)

Well I shall continue this later as I have to go prepare the rainbow cake (hooray! I am pumped!!) and get sexed up for the soiree this evening!

Hope everyone else is having an amazing day also!! :) :)

xx Charlee

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what are (gay) best friends for?

First off, I would like to step up on to my soap box once again and inject unnecessary political undertones into this post by saying that I am STILL flabbergasted that Proposition 8 passed and to be perfectly honest, very angry.  When I heard it had passed, I spent several days trying to find someone to fly to California with me to protest.  I was unable to do this (apparently some people have lives which they cannot abandon at random), however, I am passionately against this HATEFUL legislation and I think it is utterly sickening that it passed on the same day that Obama was elected–the old “two steps forward, one step back” strikes again.

On the subject of Prop 8, here is a very funny video which has been quite circulated by now, but hey, if you have not seen it, it is worth the few minutes in terms of amusement (in my opinion anyway):

Prop 8: The Musical

Anyway, needless to say, I love me some gay men.  I mean I’m down with all the gays, but two of my best friends happen to be gay men, so I’m partial to their genre of gay people.  Of course, I know some gay dudes that are not at all stereotypically “gay” and whom I didn’t know were gay until they came out to me, but with my two very close friends, this is not the case as they are quite the flamers.  This is part of the reason I love them so dearly–they are incredibly informed of fashion and there’s nothing I love more than a man that appreciates the genius of Tom Ford.

One of my best friends in the world, J, was out of the country for the past month or so to celebrate the holidays and I missed him like crazy.  J was my neighbor freshman year in college and I couldn’t have survived without him!  He has truly influenced the person I am today and he’s like family to me–so it is for this reason, and our extra close bond, that he told me at lunch today that I need to get back to my days of detoxes and spinning classes.  Yes, though I can always count on him to be brutally honest about my appearance, my sweet J put his honesty into that delicate little package.

I think I needed to hear the harsh truth though–I’m a borderline health nut, but I have in the past few months, and especially during the holidays, really been taking it easy.  Living life like it’s going out of style, if you will.

Therefore, I’m meeting with my nutritionist tomorrow and starting a week-long detox to get all of the yucky stuff out of my temple…the only sad part is that this means I cannot drink.  Which is very sad, because I love to drink. :(  And I might actually try breaking a sweat whilst working out instead of happily jogging along for a measly 30 minutes!

In other news, I have to say I feel a bit daft after my last posting–I have absolutely no right to complain about anything, ever…I’m so incredibly blessed that I actually often feel guilty for having such a nice life and therefore feel somewhat guilty for complaining about a bunch of meaningless BS!  Alas, meaningless BS is still BS though and therefore not altogether pleasant.  That said, I’m going to work on looking on the bright side more!!

But (!) I must whine for a moment and say that the job is still really difficult.  I am cursing the fact that I took it–I was perfectly happy giving my brain an extended vacation!  The problem in my life tends to be that my work ethic does not equal my ambition and this has bit me in the ass yet again.  Bottom line, I need to put my nose to the mirror (joke) and put some hours in with the books, which is way more difficult of a task for me to accomplish than it should be.

I’ve been (mostly) shutting BC down because I’m over it and uncomfortable about the whole thing, i.e. the fact that I let my lust for him overwhelm my sense of propriety.

And this weekend I’m going skiing!  Hooray!!!

Just have to get through this week first…

xx Charlee

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