10 Ways To Know That 'She' Isn't Right For You
WRITER'S NOTE: This story is Sincerely Dedicated to one of My Valued Followers, shaekelly, for inspiring me to do this piece which is purely a work of fiction with a sprinkling of common-sense mixed in to make it interesting. Thank you, shaekelly!" KENNETH AVERY
. . .It's all butterflies, pretty flowers
in the beginning. And you, like all men, American or European, love every minute of it. The winks, kisses, holding hands, 'those' unplanned gazes in public and 'those' long, longing, romantic looks across any dinner table. Yeah, you are certainly doing well, my male friend. You are a hard-worker with a work ethic that could be used as a textbook on 'How Workers Should Perform,' your character is impeccable, you do not have a spot on your background. Why haven't you entered the priesthood or run for Congress?
Then one day, (why do most drama's start with, then one day?), you rise from a deep sleep. Arise from your expensive Ashley Furniture Showroom king-size bed, shower, shave, head to your kitchen for a cup of coffee while you peruse the New York Times. A daily ritual shared by thousands of guys who live the life. In New York City. You glance at your wristwatch you purchased at Target, for the low, low price of $45.00, and realize that you are late. You gulp down your coffee, grab your European carry-all (like men of 2011 do) and of course, your ACER laptop, and it's off to the office for another obscure day of filing papers, talking to clients about investments, and just working the job. Like most successful single men in New York City.
. . .your day goes by swiftly
you say good-bye to Hal, your best friend and colleague who invites you for drinks at a nearby club. You agree. It's been months since you and Hal spent some "guy time" together. You like Hal. Even though he hurt your sister's feelings by standing her up on a date years ago, but that is the past. Hal has reformed. Some. With drinks being finished, and hands shook, you and Hal go your separate ways for the night. It's been a good day, you think to yourself. Then it hits you like a leprachaun's shalaylay. You are lonely. Without any date. Where is your life really going? No successful man in New York City goes this long without female companionship, even if it's only for one night. Even Hal has a girlfriend, Chloe, who makes him very happy for Hal comes into the office each day wearing a smile that would make any lighthouse in Maine envious. That's what you need, you decide. A girl. Not just any girl. But 'the' girl. The girl who can make you complete. A cinch to do. No challenge for you, a good-looking, clean-shaven, well-dressed single guy who always smells good. Soon, you will be with 'her,' and you too will be smiling like Hal.
. . .the next day
your quest for 'the' girl begins. Between meetings with clients in the office, you talk to Hal about if his girlfriend has a girlfriend who would go out with you. You know that your company frowns on you talking about girls on company time, but just this time won't hurt. And besides. You have just signed a huge multi-hundred-dollar account to your firm. Your manager should be taking you out on the town.
Hal laughs, "sure buddy. Chloe can hook you up. Why didn't you say something?" You grin. Your dateless days are gone. Even the musky office smells better as your attitude of near-depression has suddenly changed into that of a optimistic, healthy-thinking, positive-minded single man in New York City. You hate to use an overkilled phrase, but "life is good," you mumble to yourself ast you head to the BrewMaster coffeemaker across the office to grab that afternoon cup of java. You wink, out of habit, to Jennifer Lomax, the pretty, blond temp that your manager, Bill Goldstein, hired last week. Goldstein is a genius at saving the company money on payroll fees. As your pour your coffee, your mind wanders. And you wonder about only two things: Why does Jennifer spend so much time in Bill Goldstein's office and, will your date look anything like Jennifer? With those brief daydreams gone, you go back to your desk to await Hal's big news about his girl, Chloe, asking her best girlfriend to go out with you. You are not worried. At all. Not in the least. You have coached Hal into telling Chloe all the good things about you. And a few things that are exaggerated. Just to make sure your date likes you.
. . .the time finally arrives
Hal has told you that Chloe told her girlfriend, Susseux Kikkerbeaux, a Cajun girl, who is probably the best paralegal in New York City, to call you to set up the date with you. You couldn't be more excited. You almost dance on your way to the elevator at quitting time. You even whistle the hit classic, "Unforgettablele," by legendary singer, Nat King Cole as the elevator goes down. Lets you out. And you are embarking on a new phase of your life. Dating. Something you haven't done since you hired into your company. Oh you had the occasional one night stands with girls named, Barbara, Juley, and Genny, but nothing as genuine as this date with Susseux. You feel that it's right in the pit of your stomach. And since your college days at Dartmouth, you have always trusted the pit of your stomach.
. . .what happended to you and Susseux
was bad. I mean bad. Dark. Near fatal. Awful. Things that nightmares and flashbacks are made from. Even Satan avoids things like what happened on your first date with this highly-intelligent, great-looking, sultry, sexy, and witty Susseux Kikkerbeux. To coin famous sportscaster, Jim Lampley, of HBO Sports, when he called one of then-heavyweight boxing champ, "Iron" Mike Tyson's fights, "it was over before it started." Those six words sum it up well. How your first and mercifully, last date with Susseux went down.
Buddy, listen to someone who knows about worldly issues. All is not lost. You are still single, clean-shaven, employed at a highly-successful company in New York City. You might be cut-up, scratched like a food-crazed alley cat, but those cuts and scratches will heal in time. Before you ask Hal, or any of your good-intentioned colleagues, to help you get a date,
read this list of
"10 Signs To Know If She Is Right For You"
#1. When you pick her up or meet her at the theater or restaurant, she has this craving to speak to, wink at, and smile at the other men who are inside. Eventually, she sits down with you. And scolds you publicly for helping her with her chair. She is too empowered for trivial things like this. But when she has to visit the ladies room and returns, she gladly lets your handsome waiter pull her chair out for her and insists angrily that you tip him twenty-bucks for that gesture.
#2. You, being the gentleman, try to find things she will like to talk about. But when she only talks about gangs, police brutality, female wrestling (which she does on the side), and how she 'loves' Marines who are on-leave, you stutter. Stammer. And look foolish trying to talk about sports, politics, art fairs, museums and nice things to which she just sits and glares at you with her eyes glazed over with boredom.
#3. Finally, you arrive at a subject that she likes. But in mid-conversation, actually in mid-statement, yours, she suddenly interrupts, yells at the man in the next booth with his wife and says in a loud voice, "Hey, doll. If you two ever bust up, I'm available. Anytime. Who's this guy? (pointing at you) Oh, a 'goody-goody' friend of my BFF Chloe. He ain't anybody important."
#4. She gets serious and asks if you like interpretative dancing. You politely say no. Then in a rage, she gets up and does a sample of this dance for you--and the other patrons. This dance, according to her, is called, "Loving A Serpent," and she hisses for special effects.
#5. She only talks to you with a mouth full of food. She never uses a napkin for she is protesting how restaurant napkin companies are hurting the ozone. She wipes the spaghetti sauce on her tank top and keeps hogging it down like a starving wolf. You hang your head in shame as other diners now are pointing at her and taking bets on how many plates of spaghetti she can hold.
#6. Then, out of the blue, she becomes sensitive. Caring. And changes completely into a new woman. She even wants you to '"tell her everything, the sad things first, about you," as she coos while drinking her water so lady like. Then at the moment you tell her about losing your pet bird, "Jockko," to rare disease traced all the way back to New Zealand, she bursts into a wild laughter--wheezing, coughing and telling people at the next table, "can you get this guy? Having a bird named "Johnson," or something. That is funny, man!" Again, you silently pray that this date, as it were, will soon be over.
#7. All of her close friends are guys. And they hang-out at her apartment. All of the time. You, out of curiosity, ask, "All guys? That's funny," Then she slams her fist on the table and angrily replies, "Got a problem with that 'mamby pamby'? I cannot help it if I only take in sexual addicts as roommates. So there." Your God must be hearing your cries for help now. You begin to tremble with fear that she might whip you just for fun and the pleasure of the other diners.
#8. She grabs an innocent customer on his way out, and forces him to sit on her lap. She laughs it up. And laughs at you for sitting there and just taking this abuse. "I thought Chloe said you were a real man! Boy, that Chloe must have been drinking when she called me this afternoon to 'nurse you' tonight." She barks as the man on her lap is now covering his face for two reasons: one, shame. And two, sheer, unadulterated embarrassment. Make that three. For fear that her huge fists will crack his head open with a punch.
#9. She openly lays out several hits of controlled substances on the table--not afraid of anyone who might call the cops. You are now shaking with fear. Why did you do such a stupid thing as to ask Hal to get you a date with this 'monster,' but now she is high on cocaine. Subdued. Quiet. But two men, dressed in rain coats, at the booth across the room are staring at you like you are dealing the drugs. Are these guys undercover cops? Sweat now pops out on your forehead as you try to bring Susseux back to reality.
#10. After laboring for an hour, and with the help of a kind waiter or two, you manage to get Susseux back to real life. You walk out with her hanging on your arm. You pay the bill. Quickly as possible. Cover your face with your scarf as to not be recognized. Walk Susseux to the taxi waiting at the curb, then she hits you with this devastating line, "You know, bub. You've been as much fun as a corpse tonight. I think that I will just move in with you. Chloe confided in me that she thought you quiet guys are like tigers behind closed doors."
You wake up in the hospital hooked up to EKG, heart-monitors and other life-support machines. You are alone. Thank God. You survived the worst date in recorded human history. The door slowly opens, it's your good buddy and colleague, Hal.
"Heyyy, budd-eeee, how ya' doin'?" Hal sheepishly asks.
"Well, Hal. I survived. That's all I can say. Why in God's name did you set me up with that crude, rude, raw, 'beast' of a girl last night?" You ask with anger showing in your voice.
"What girl? What date...ohhhh, the one...that....Chloe, okay. Let me explain. You're gonna love it," Hal explains while nibbling your strawberry Jell-O that the nurses have just brought you.
"You see. Chloe didn't have the heart to set you up with her best friend, Beth, for she was afraid that Beth might be a bit much. You know, wild, and stuff. So she got her sister, Susie, to fill-in for your date. That Susie is a great gal. She teaches grade school across town and is a lovely girl." Hal says to your disgust.
Your friendship with Hal suddenly, and with much-anger, dissolves.