Courting Trouble : His Side : He says, ‘I’ll call you--and doesn’t until three weeks later. She says, ‘Pick me up at 7’--and isn’t ready until 9. Tactical errors in the Game of Love? You betcha--which brings us to today’s lesson: The Mistakes Men an Women Make When They Go Courtin’.
Talking about the future: Unless you’re dating Jeanne Dixon, this is the ultimate turn off. Having testosterone means living fully in the moment, in the Now. Guys are Zen-like creatures, dammit. Macho bodhisattvas who understand the transitory nature of beingness in a causally connected cold and indifferent universe.
Because of that, nothing irks us more than when Little Miss Let’s-Be-Clairvoyant-Together has the bad taste to jolt us out of the present, especially while we’re trying to fully appreciate a particularly seminal episode of “The Simpsons.”
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Dwelling on the way you were: No, thank you, I don’t want to hear about the Prince of Monaco or Fabio or John Jr. or whatever you said your ex-boyfriend’s name was. Maybe it’s just me, but unless Mr. (former) Wonderful has done something really creative lately, like blown up a Zeppelin or colonized Mars, then why go yanking the scab off the past?
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Listening versus hanging on my every word: Here’s my beef. I’m a thinker. Theories and deep ideas ooze out of me like oily matter from a Slim Jim. Women, of course, appreciate this.
But I have this unsettling hunch that, although they appear to be listening, I often don’t believe that they’re truly grasping the nuance of my musings. I mean, when I voice a revelation, is it too much to ask for an occasional “Hallelujah, uh huh, say it, daddy,” to punctuate my witticisms?
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Bras: Why? That’s all I want to know.
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The cursed wait: Breakthroughs in forensic science have proven that the longer you have to wait for Ms. Oh-I’ll-Just-Be-a-Minute to get ready, the more radon you’re going to inhale while sitting around in her apartment leafing through Vogue.
Avoid this unnecessary health risk. Only date women who live in well-ventilated yurts.
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Apres date etiquette: This being the ‘90s, actual down and dirty gorilla sex with your date is, of course, out of the question.
But after dropping a thick wad of jack on dinner, drinks and tickets to Dwarf-Toss Mania ‘94, I don’t think it’s out of the question to expect a phone call or maybe some cash redeemable token of appreciation. Real estate? Treasury Bonds? Hallucinogenic toads? I’m certainly not picky.
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Lack of compassion when it comes to playing the field: It seems as if women nowadays just don’t possess the wherewithal they did a few years back . . . in the Paleolithic Age. Neither do their boyfriends or husbands. At least not any of the boyfriends or husbands of the ones I’ve gone out with lately.
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PMS: One day some guy is finally gonna invent a time travel machine--and he’ll be able to set the thing for fast forward by about, oh, let’s say, eight days. Then he’s going to collect the $100 trillion prize that every nation on Earth has set aside for just such a humanitarian contribution to life on this planet.