The Chat-Up

Just over a month ago, I announced that I was going to go out and have the mother of all celebrations for my fortieth birthday.  For a number of reasons, some of which were beyond my control, the shindig didn't eventuate, and my best mate has been at me to reschedule ever since.  Well, thanks to her incessant pleading/nagging/threats of bodily harm, I finally gave in.  Next Saturday, we are hitting the Irish pubs of Melbourne for a night of Bailey's, Boys and Bad Karaoke - but my chronic shyness has had a major resurgence of late, and is threatening to put the kibosh on all but two of these activities.  Fortunately, my best mate is the most stubborn, bull-headed woman in the universe, and will have none of my refusals or excuses this time around.  She told me that my inability to initiate conversation with men, (while sober), could be solved by the implementation of a time-honoured practice that has been used the world over since social interaction began all those years ago - you know, before women waxed their legs.

The icebreaker.

'All you need is a really great line, delivered in just the right way.  Men do it all the time.  It can't be that hard.'

So sayeth the tall, gorgeous, blue-eyed Rachel McAdams lookalike who has never had to approach a man in her life.  Still, a conversation starter might not be a bad idea, and I think I've come up with a good one: I'm going to tell them about the blog!

It might sound crazy to try to capture the attention of potential suitors by telling them that if we do decide to take things further, thousands of other people will be reading all about it.  Well, not ALL of it - I'm not      angling for an HBO series.  I do have to wonder about the types of men this approach would attract.  I mean, do I really want to share physical space with a guy who would read my blog the following week, eagerly searching for a mention of himself like he was trying out for a football team?  (And yes, I do know what that analogy suggests - shut up).  Some guys would understandably be put off by it, particularly if they had never actually read the blog.  For all they know, it could be a performance review, (something I would NEVER partake in, unless I was assessing my own talents, or lack thereof).  Everyone I've told about this, which no doubt now includes you, thinks it's insane and, you know what I say to that?

Thank you.

Why?  Because it's a compliment.  It takes bravery to put ones self out there and do the crazy thing, and if you guys think that much of me, then I must be a lot gutsier than I thought I was.

Or just crazy.

Time will tell.  

*Note:  I just realised that the phrase 'Take things further' may be misconstrued as code for 'Engage in non-committal carnal festivities.'  This was not my intention.  At least at the time of writing.          

From the Oh my friggin' God files...

The jewels I find while playing Google Search Bingo never cease to amaze me.  This morning I discovered a site built by men, for men, for the altruistic purpose of helping them to better understand us women.  The particular article I happened to stumble upon attempted to explain the differences between what women say and what they mean.  Not one to cast a shadow over journalistic integrity, the author duly credited his source - a female spy named Pamela (nothing remotely suspicious about that pseudonym).  'Pamela' put her life on the line to clue the author in on the fact that we subtly manipulate our language in order to hide that we're asking for something.  Apparently, guys are so dumb that they won't realise they're doing us a favour and consequently won't ask us for one in return.  'Pamela' went on to provide some helpful examples.

If a woman says: 'I'm so tired!'  she means: 'Can you pick me up from work?'  If a woman says 'I feel sick,' she means 'Don't go on a lads night out tonight,' and if she says anything with the words 'Mother;' 'Hair;' or 'Work' in it, she means 'Not tonight, baby.'  I know a few of my male readers, and they are all sharp, witty, intuitive guys, so the following message is not intended for them, but rather for any men who find women so confusing that they need to rely on 'self-help' articles to communicate with us, (and I seriously hope such a creature doesn't actually exist).  When we say 'I'm so tired,' we mean 'I'm so tired.'  When we say 'I feel sick,' we mean 'I feel sick, swap bodily fluids with me at your own risk.'  As for using our mothers, our hair or work to get out of sex, I honestly don't think that's likely in the twenty-first century unless your 'girlfriend' lives in the magic, 52 inch black box on your wall. 

The rest of the site, featuring articles with titles like 'How to impress a woman without spending all your money' and 'What's stopping you from sealing the deal,' are enough to send any female writer worth her salt into multiple blog-gasms.  I was torn between wiping up the coffee I kept spitting and highlighting all the lampoon-worthy passages, (I haven't seen so much blue since Avatar).  I can't say that the site made me angry; it wasn't thought provoking enough.  It didn't make me sad, either; I have too much faith in the wisdom of the majority of the male population for that.  The only way I can think of to summarise the way it made me feel is with a time honoured expression that crosses cultural and gender boundaries alike...

HA, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!