Friday, May 15, 2009

The ABCs of Men

Back by popular demand:

A: The Ass. They all are filed under this blanket, but there are varying degrees. Jackass is the worst (See ‘J’ for more details), lameass is the most tolerable. Dumbass falls somewhere in the middle. Too many qualifying factors to provide an exhaustive list.

B: The Baby Daddy. This one is so hard to resist! Toting an irresistibly cute, chubby-cheeked little bundle of adorableness, this one will melt your heart to mush in 3.7 seconds. Until you meet the other 4 bundles and their 3 different, disgruntled, annoyed, and rightfully so bitter mothers.

C: The Cuddler. You know the type. Must sit thisclose to you all the time, insists on holding hands during every waking second, and doesn’t understand the concept of having designated sides of the bed. He takes ‘affectionate’ to the nth degree, and quite frankly, it’s annoying. Meaning well and knowing not what he does, left untreated, the cuddler will get worse. See ‘W’.

D: The Divorcee. Or better yet, the ‘unofficial divorcee’. Both are dangerous. Living in a one bedroom apartment furnished with cardboard and the occasional lawn chair, using a cooler as a ‘fridge’, and entertaining himself with basic cable on a big screen t.v. DO NOT TAKE PITY ON THIS MAN! If another woman, in all of her wisdom, has fallen for him and then awoke to his idiocracy and taken all of his stuff because he was dumb enough to not have a pre-nup and didn’t have a leg to stand on in the divorce proceedings, you’re inheriting her unshaven, broke, throwaways that clearly isn’t so great at keeping promises. Congratulations on your monumental find.

E: The Executive. Powerful, successful, rich, and sexy in a suit. Translation: Caniving, embezzling, cheap, and dressed by his wife. It was a nice thought while it lasted.

F: The Flirt. Oh you know the one. He sends you sweet text messages that are waiting for you when you wake up, he sends flowers for no reason, has more compliments than you knew even existed, and then…he calls you by the wrong name. And suddenly, you are cutting up those flowers and turning them into potpourri.

G: The Good Ole Boy. He drives a truck, he wears jeans, he opens your door every time, he has that sexy drawl, he thinks your job is to cook, clean, have his babies, and cater to his every need. Even the drawl can’t save this one.

H: The Hottie. Who needs a brain? As long as he’s shirtless, tan, and well groomed, I’m on board. However, the hottie knows that he’s hot, and he knows it won’t last forever. He senses the ticking clock, and will not waste a moment of his reign as resident hottie not being seen by the public eye. Nights in on the couch in sweats will not do. He needs to be seen, and to be seen with someone who is just as hot as he --- baseball cap and jeans will not cut it, and neither will he.

I: The Idiot. Many times can’t help themselves. It’s a painful and tragic story to watch unfold. Will offer ‘compliments’ such as, “Your hair looks good today – not windblown like yesterday.” And in an attempt to recover, adds, “It’s okay honey, I know you look good when you leave the house…” There is no cure.

J: The Jackass. You know the one. He throws a temper tantrum when you cut your hair, mentions that if you got implants he’d worry about other guys hitting on you but not until then, and somehow manages to make you feel guilty when his whore on the side rats him out. True story. I’m not bitter. His name is Ryan. Kick him if you see him.

K: The Kisser. No matter how pissed you are at him, all he has to do is wrap you in his arms, pull your hair a little bit, and plant one on you. Suddenly, you can’t even remember why you can’t stand him. Stay strong, ladies. You can lose years of your life on this one before you learn to learn to associate his lips with the taste of vinegar. Years.

L: The Liar. Does he really expect us to believe that he has 400 random slutty myspace friends because he ‘doesn’t want to be rude and deny their friend request!’ or that he has ‘no interest at all’ in that tramp of a co-worker he has who constantly addresses him as ‘Sexy’ while showing every bit of cleavage she has? Just because we’re pretty doesn’t mean we’re dumb.

M: The Mama’s Boy. How cute. If he loves him mom, he must surely know how to treat a woman like yourself, right? Wrong. He can’t do his own laundry, doesn’t even buy his own clothes to have laundered, has to borrow the car when he wants to take you out, and will insist for the rest of his life that Wednesday night will always be lasagna night.

N: The Nature Lover. Yep. You heard me. His idea of a romantic weekend getaway is driving until you don’t know where you are and your cell has no service, pitching a tent (literally), and surviving off of berries and roasted rattlesnake while doing morning yoga with the rising of the sun and discussing how ‘freeing’ the whole experience is. My advice? Free yourself. Quickly. Air conditioning is our friend.

O: The Older Fox. You’re drawn to his salt and pepper hair, gentle laugh lines around his eyes, life experience, infinite wisdom, and witty charm. Fast forward a couple weeks and you’ve got a balding, saggy, lazy, know it all who has to be charming because he only has so many hours in the day to win you over – Work all day, dinner is at 5, he’s too tired to do anything but scratch himself, and it’s lights out at 8. However, if he’s loaded, has no children, and a serious heart condition, you’ve got the ideal first husband. Hang in there.

P: The Perfect Man. Fictional. If you think you have found one, it’s because you are asleep and your subconscious has taken over. If actual creatures, they would be hot, independent, loyal, and quiet. Speaks only four phrases; “You’re beautiful,” “Honey, football is on --- I will rub your feet while you enjoy the game in silence,” “Here’s my wallet. Buy yourself something pretty,” and “I’m lucky to have you. I will show my gratitude by cleaning the house and cooking dinner. You just relax and watch t.v.” Modern science is working on this one. In theory, even this is possible.

Q: The Quitter. He’s never followed through on anything in his life, but says it’s because he just hasn’t found his passion yet. Guess what? His passion is being a lazy bum.

R: The Romantic. Certain milestones are special, and deserve to be celebrated. I like romance as much as the next girl. In moderation. Our 3 week anniversary of the first time we held hands is not reason enough for me to shave my legs and exchange presents, complete with a poem about how you feel. 6 months, one year, and annually thereafter. Mark your calendar.

S: The Sensitive One. You can’t tease him, or you’ll spend hours handing him tissues and reaffirming how much you like him. He’ll get you matching notebooks that you can journal in together and then discuss how journaling makes you feel. Before you know it, you’ll find yourself sitting in the dark around a candle and ‘cleansing your mental toxins away.’ Until he can grow a pair, you need to take yours and run.

T: The Tattooed One. Bad boys are irresistibly sexy. They are irresistible to other women, too. Lots of them. Icky ones. And every time you kiss him, you’re kissing all of them. He’s not so sexy anymore.

U: The Uniformed Hero. Comes complete with handcuffs, fire hose, or intense patriotism. Said uniforms have the elusive power to increase the ‘hot or not’ level by a solid 2 points. Also has the ability to blind the otherwise well trained female instinct to arrogance, chauvinistic ideals, and narcissism. Beware ladies, this one will get you every time.

V: The Vegan. Much like the nature lover, this one will take away all of the things you know and love. Vegetarian, I can work with. But when you try to take away dairy products, we cannot be friends.

W: The Woman. Equipped with all the correct biological makeup of a man, this special breed has more estrogen than the Oprah studio during a taping of her ‘Favorite Things’ episode. There are some tell-tale signs that you have landed yourself a Woman. Wanting to incessantly discuss feelings, insisting that you turn off football and go to the park instead, expressing that you are too concerned with physical affection and he’d rather just ‘talk’ sometimes, showing no interest in a ‘guys night’, and/or wanting to come along on every shopping excursion are some conclusive pieces of evidence that you, in fact, might be dating a woman. Your options in this situation are few, and they’re extreme: either buy some flannel, start referring to yourselves as life partners, and call it a life, or run as fast as you can to the nearest construction site outside of a sports bar inhabited by 50+ frat boys and submerge yourself in the sea of testosterone, silently praising Jesus for leading you to this desert oasis.

X: The Ex. No matter what he has accomplished since the split, or how much he has changed, he’s still the one that didn’t make the cut. He had his chance once, and blew it. That’s more than most men get. Let him think about his stupidity and pine after you for the rest of his life. If you broke up once, there is a reason --- there is no cure for an idiot, remember?

Y: The Younger Man. A clean slate. He’s legal, but just barely. He has boundless energy, no baggage, and he’s completely stoked that a woman like yourself would even look his way. You have a few tricks up your sleeve and you are ready to teach this young whipper snapper a thing or fifty. Only problem is you have to get all those lessons fit in somewhere between beer bong construction, hazing the new pledges, and midterms. And all that boundless energy? Unfortunately, it comes between the hours of 11pm and 6am, and you, unlike him, have a real job that you have to be at all day while he is sleeping off the latest hangover before his 3 hour shift at Abercrombie and after those rugged 4 hours of class he may or may not sleep through.

Z: The Zoolander. Anytime a man takes longer than you to get ready, and/or looks better in a pair of your jeans, the reason you get along so well is because you have so much in common – including your taste in men.

1 comment:

christinega said...

Love it love it love it