Saturday, March 29, 2008
Wow, Ashley Alexandra Dupre and Eliot Spitzer, we hardly knew ye. Okay, so you introduced us to The Emperor's Club, er, The Emperor's Club and we found out the Governor of New York had forked over 80 grand on escorts over the years. That’s a pretty good start, but where’s the deets, people? We know Bill Clinton has a curved wiener for heaven’s sake and the best you can give us is this-
"Client 9, according to another woman associated with the Emperor's Club, "would ask you to do things that, like, you might not think were safe." There was no elaboration."
Booo-riing. Where’s the wide-stance? Where the certified de-gaying? Where’s Jessica Hahn? By the way, a more complete account of “Client 9” related communications is available on huffingtonpost, where this quote came from, and elsewhere, but have a strong cup of coffee at the ready because that’s as racy as it gets.
Seriously, though, all Eliot Spitzer wanted to do was go without a rubber? And failed? Lame. You’d think a dude who can get himself elected Governor of the third most populous state in the Union and who just dropped $4,300 would be more persuasive than your average pimply prom date about going au naturale. Not to mention more adventurous. Really, that’s it?
And the DW is sure his readers are disappointed as well because below is how Poll #3 turned out. As always, to all who voted.
Which would you most like to know more about regarding the Eliot Spitzer resignation story?
The new governor of New York, David A. Paterson – 15%
What Mr. and Mrs. Spitzer will do next – 3%
What is next for call girl/singer Ahley Dupre – 0%
What Spitzer wanted in the sack – 82%
The DW does admit, actually, some surprise at the landslide. Not that sex winning a poll is that shocking, but what a margin this was. 3 percent curiosity about the two women who, in their own ways, got f*#ked in this situation? Shame on you all, you Britney Spears gawkers. It is because of you that this country is going straight to hell. Or so say the folks who are most likely to father illegitimate children or proposition a minor.
As a sort of news sorbet to cleanse the palate, a few quick links for the noble 15% who wanted to know about David A. Paterson. The DW’s favorite tidbit was that the new Governor is legally blind, yet plays basketball. Do you suppose it’s awkward being the dude who has to guard the Governor in the Capitol pickup game? And do you suppose the first line of this story from the American Foundation for the Blind was intentionally pun-ny or got someone fired?
Will someone just give Ashley Alexandra Dupre a recording contract already? And tell her to respond to the DW’s MySpace friend request while you’re at it.
Best of luck with the dudes. The DW is almost caught up with mail, so keep the questions and comments and how-do-you-dos coming,
Thursday, March 27, 2008
I just wanted to drop in and let you know how all goes in the world of slutty SF girl [ DW NOTE: See Dudefile #5 - The Checkered Past]. SO, I followed your advice and dropped the 14 guys checkered past on my boy. He laughed. And laughed some more. Until he realized I wasn't kidding. He then got pretty quiet and looked at me super seriously and I started to think about how the hell I was going to back pedal out of it. BUT, then he stood up, leaned over, and gave me the cliche kiss on the forehead (yes boys, we know you all think this is the magical key to our hearts...and yes, sometimes it works) and said "he loved me whether I slept with two guys or twenty." Then made an inappropriate but complimentary comment about my blow job skills.
Unfortunately, and my heart really does go out to him, we hadn't yet dropped any L-bombs before this point and I'm not sure this was quite the time/place/moment he was hoping for. And ideally, I don't think he was hoping to follow his declaration up with a backhanded compliment about my sexploits. But luckily for him, and me I suppose, I found the whole episode kinda funny and rather endearing. I actually like him more for being able to bomb on me while telling me he loves me.
So thanks for the advice...And FYI, for the first time in my life, I actually could see waking up next to this dude in six months. Although I'm only 3 in, I could see the Slutty Six Month Wake Up Rule actually come to fruition.
Keep up the good work!
slutty SF girl
So wait, the kiss on the forehead doesn’t automatically work? Dang. The DW needs some new moves. Flowers still always work, though, right? Please?
Anyway, the first time you wrote the Dude Whisperer, we talked about terrible movie conventions. Now it looks like we can add one more to the list. The Happy Ending. And no, the DW is not referring to that one time in Vegas when your ex went to that massage parlor way, way, way off the strip and came back without his underpants. He means The Happy Ending where no matter what happened in The Tortured Checkered Past whether it involved the Foghorn Leghorn Crappiest Southern Accent Ever or A Menacing Eastern European Henchman or The Nagging Ethnic Mother In Law, everything pulls together in the last fifteen minutes and the dude and the woman ride off into the sunset happy forever and ever despite the fact that one of them is a pain in the ass or killed somebody or robbed a bank or something.
But wait. Actually, this isn’t a movie convention. This is one of those regular old-fashioned real life un-contrived happy endings where two good people talk openly about stuff and get along. How boring. And awesome. Hey, congrats, slutty! Well done!
Your dude sounds pretty alright, gotta say. Sure he's patting himself on the back a little too hard for being so understanding and stand-up about the 14 (you have no idea, incidentally, how many women have mentioned to the DW, unsolicited and off the subject of their own letters, that 14 is nothing and doesn't even qualify you as the illegitimate third cousin of slutty), but it's sweet. He’s shown that he’s the kind of dude you can trust and be open with. And when a dude feels comfortable dropping the L-bomb and making a hummer joke in the same situation? Good lord, that's about as affectionate as we dudes know how to get.
Would he have hoped for a different L-bomb situation? Maybe. But this is actually exactly why the DW is biased for truth and just getting stuff out in the open. The ideal L-bomb situation never happens like it does in The Beach Scene or The Steps Of A Famous Parisian Landmark Building In The Rain Scene. There is no magic-hour light or breathy expository narration. There’s just you and the dude and all your messy regular-ness. You might as well just get all your junk out there. Not your junk junk. Your junk. You know what the DW means…
Thanks so much for the update. Seems like if you and this dude stay up front with each other six months is likely, indeed. The DW wishes you continued happiness with your wisely appreciative dude,
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
I’m devastated. My personal dude whisperer, a dude I had hooked up with in the past and am now buddies with, told me that the reason it didn’t work with us is because it's weird dating someone who likes sports as much as a guy does. This is totally true, isn’t it? I knew it. I love bantering about sports, I love sports. Is this only solution really to keep my mouth shut and put the sportsfandom at only like 65% of what it is? Now what?
Dear Sports Fan,
This seemed like a good one for the DW to tackle in the midst of March Madness which, according to the ongoing poll, at least half his readers might not loathe. In case you were wondering, and the DW knows you were, the DW’s brackets look pretty good this time around. Why? For once, he picked a bunch of favorites, including UNC to win the whole thing. Granted, this made his picks look less like a dude’s and more like those of the proverbial Woman in Accounting Who Hasn’t Seen a Game All Year, but you know what? The DW has never won a bracket contest. And, as everyone knows, the Woman in Accounting has. Repeatedly.
Incidentally and apropos of nothing, two random things made the DW feel old-ish while watching the games this weekend. One was that a gangly kid he used to play baseball against in the summer is now the head coach of a team in the tournament. Head Coach! That little gangly kid! The other was that right after admiring the dance routine of a University of Texas stripper, er, cheerleader in chaps (yes, chaps), the thought briefly flashed through his mind, “She’s probably just 19! Her poor father!” Also, he thought a couple of the players’ moms were hot. At least the DW doesn’t need any of the enlarged prostate pills from those advertisements they were running eight times an hour with older dudes high-fiving in kayaks 128 miles from civilization. Yet.
But without further comment on the DW’s prostate, let’s head to the couch with our Doritos and beers. Is it weird to date a woman who likes sports? In the sense that ‘weird’ is unusual, sure. It’s unusual. But ‘weird’ as in off-putting? Er, no. Finding out the woman you’re really into is a huge sports fan would be about as off-putting as finding an extra slice of bacon on your cheeseburger. Think about it this way. Would a woman find it off-putting if her dude remained the same in every way except he liked to shop for shoes with her? And the DW means really browse, take his time, try on several pairs, discuss the merits of each, look for bargains.
But here’s where things might get weird. Let’s take the shoe shopping from above into a more specific situation. Imagine there’s a private runway show at the Macy’s shoe department with free wine and snacks. Your dude is busy late at work, so you and a couple close girlfriends plan a night of it. You’re thinking half price happy hour sushi at Wolfgang Puck, the runway show, then maybe a walk to a movie your dude refuses to attend on the grounds of It Has Drew Barrymore In It. Maybe you duck into a bar where you can see if any cute dudes will notice how hot your shoes are even though you know dudes (except for your special shoe loving dude) wouldn’t notice your shoes unless they had goldfish in the heels or you were wearing them on your boobies. Throw in some gossiping about your dudes and your bitchy coworker (you know the one the DW’s talking about) and possible detour to browse for fancy soaps and the more you think about it, the more this is going to be a perfect evening. Then you get a call from your dude. Turns out he loves shoes so much he’s leaving work, anyway, damn the consequences, and says he can join you. But do you still want him to?
You probably don’t. But if you don’t want your dude to come along this particular evening, it’s not that you’ve grown tired of his deep love of the shoe. It’s that you were kind of looking forward to a girls’ night out. Same with dudes and sports. You want to make the case Baron Davis should have been on the NBA All-Star team? Bring it on. Who wins the NL West this year? The dude will talk about it anytime. Go to a Giants game together? Pick the night. You want to be in the dude’s fantasy football league? Yeah, okay, that might be weird. Not because you love sports enough to want to be in a fantasy football league, but because a fantasy football league is beer and farts and watching games with dudes and profanity and insults and fantasy teams names that are unclever yet somehow excellent puns about enormous penises. It’s time to scratch and spill with impunity. It’s dude time. And dudes need dude time to be for only dudes.
This is all to say that it’s not your love of sports that’s the problem. The only thing to manage if you’re a woman who’s a sports fan is making sure the dude gets enough purely dude sports time. And there’s not anything tricky about it. Maybe you don’t watch every game with him. Maybe sometimes let him talk to his friends about the big trade before you do. Just plan ahead with your dude how the sporting calendar works out between you and the dudes. Say direct things like, “Look, dude. I want to watch Game One of the World Series, so if you really have to go have your little dude thing at Frank’s let me know now so I can make other plans. But if you go, we’re watching Game Two together, alright?” or some such extremely straightforward compromise offer.
Which brings us back around to your former whisperer. The DW thinks that dude’s giving you a polite and easily digestible line of B.S. Perhaps you two weren’t doing a very good job of managing his dudespace regarding sports, but that’s not a dumpable offense. What, you’re undatable because you have an opinion about the Shaq trade last month? Because you think Dale Murphy should be in the MLB Hall of Fame? Please. That’s like saying the DW’s wife would divorce him if he developed a sudden and passionate interest in matching pillow cover and duvet sets. That dude had other reasons for why it didn’t work.
Now what? Now nothing. Don’t tone down the sportsfandom to 65% or even 95%. All that happened was some dude didn’t work out. Another one will. And he’ll probably sit back and smile at how lucky he is that he found a woman who will get half drunk and scarf nachos and swear at the referee of a televised sporting event full voice at 8 on Tuesday just like him. Love like that is a rare and beautiful thing.
Saturday, March 22, 2008
A dude is unlikely to do any of the following. But if he did, which would you most prefer?
Ride shirtless on a white steed- (21%)
Turn off the televised sporting event and cuddle – (8%)
Take a cooking class with you – (27%)
Talk about feelings – (21%)
Go to a Bright Eyes show with you and your girlfriends – (10%)
Change his ways – (21%)
Here’s what the DW gleans from these particular answers. Feel free to comment away and correct his dude-ish misconceptions. Remember, the DW knows nothing about women.
One observation: A theme seems to be that women would like dudes to offer up time together, but far prefer that time to at least have the illusion that the dude is interested, too. In other words, the TV and Bright Eyes answers had, for lack of a better word, punitive components. The dude is pretty openly in the position of doing something only because you want it. On the other hand, Take a Cooking Class and Talk About Feelings are both things a dude can do and, whether he’s enjoying those fairly undudelike things a whole lot or not, at least engage as if it was completely mutual.
One question: The DW is assuming that the 21% of you who voted for Ride Shirtless on a White Steed simply couldn’t resist the joke answer. True? Another possibility is that a Steed dude surely possesses an irresistible sense of humor. Or is it that you secretly want an old-school, unabashed, Fabio flexin’, pheromone exuding, heavy object lifting, lion taming, take an ox down with his bare hands manlyman like the DW?
One warning: For the 21% of you who chose Change His Ways? Stop it. Quit running your head into the wall. Yes, a dude can learn the difference between a duvet and a comforter and he can, by rote memorization, maybe learn to do his part with the folding the towels and putting them on the right shelf or whatever. But those are just little adjustments. Tasks. Blips. If you don’t like a dude’s ways, get another dude. If you listen to one thing the DW says, listen to this.
As for the related Poll 2A. For those who have an interest, the results were:
Which of the following has the DW actually done for the DW’s wife?
Ridden shirtless on a white steed – (2%)
Turned off a televised sporting event and cuddled – (25%)
Taken a cooking class with her – (31%)
Gone to a Bright Eyes show with her and her girlfriends – (22%)
Changed his ways - (14%)
Quickly one by one:
Shirtless on a white steed?- Not yet. But the night is young.
TV and cuddling? – The DW has, on separate occasions, turned off televised sporting events and cuddled, but the two have never been specifically linked.
Cooking class – You were correct. Some dudes like to cook and the DW is one of them.
Go to a Bright Eyes show – Um, no. The DW is only assuming this number is so high because you think, due to earlier indie rock type allusions, he might like Bright Eyes. He doesn’t. In fact, there is a special type of deep and visceral disgust a lot of dudes reserve for Bright Eyes and John Mayer and those types of dudes who have a finely honed act of sensitive B.S. that we can’t believe women actually buy. The DW knows there are women who annoy other women in this fashion, but none come to mind. Thoughts?
Changed his ways- See above. The DW is the DW, better or worse. Although he does now know what a duvet is. Sort of.
You might notice the link on the left that the DW is on Facebook, so come on by and say hello and give him a fake cupcake or post a funny video or challenge him to Scrabble. The DW has to say that Facebook seems more professional and versatile than MySpace, but he might prefer the messy free for all attitude of MS, at least so far. Case in point, the DW’s Facebook account is under "Dee Ude Whisperer" because they don’t allow pseudonyms. I mean it’s Facebook, not a passport application. So serious. Anybody know a way around that?
Also, the DW wanted to give, as the kids say, mad props to his international readers. Okay, so some of the tracking that points to international hits might be due to server location or however that works, but world domination has to begin somewhere, right? So, big ups to Austria, Australia, France, Venezuela, Great Britain, and, of course, the DW’s homies in Canada. Right on, Toronto. Right on.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
I met a guy at the gym back in July. He and I had been checking each other out for about a year before that.
After several text messages and some that I deemed innappropriate (one asked me if I considered my breasts a beautiful thing and would he enjoy playing with them), we went out on an actual date. I thought I fucked it up a) because I was drunk, and b) I refused to have sex with him. Feeling this overwhelming sense of guilt I decided to text him offering my body. He took me up on it a month later. Then came only text messages propositioning sex... and he'd refuse invites to baseball games and other things I thought he'd enjoy doing. I gave it up two more times, then started dating someone else.
Well, I guess this is the reason I shouldn't fuck dudes I meet at the gym. I kept running into him and he'd say hi. I stopped dating "other dude" and gym dude came around again... with a text message that said, "I want to stop by right now." I *finally* refused, because I'd told him I wanted to get to know him if we were to continue having sex and he'd keep brushing it off. Shocked that I told him the freebies were up, he started to chase me half-assedly... Half-assedly I say because he only approached me at the gym a couple times and called me once to "hang out". When I finally started to respond to him, he backed away again.
Now, luckily I hate my job so much of my time is spent trying desperately to find a new one. That said, I folded my cards and decided that I can't waste any time on this cat-and-mouse game. Plus, it takes two to play a game.
But my question to you dudewhisperer is, I want to know this guy, I want to spend time with him... Is there *any* way in hell that I'll be able to trap him? And if so, how???
Hi there GL,
In a word, um, no. And we’ll get to why in a minute. But first, the DW is dying to talk about the movie he saw the other night – 10,000 B.C. Really, no matter what post went up today, he was going to find a way to talk about this film. It was that awesome. It’s just lucky there are some things in this letter that will eventually tie together with it.
Of course, by “awesome” the DW means that 10,000 B.C., which really should have been called Tribes of Unconvincing Appearance Unite! or The Sensitive Hunter/Gatherer, was the most spectacularly over the top hack job he’s ever seen. Just inept and dumb in ways that were truly fascinating to watch. But, as sometimes happens when the planets align just so, it was the utter completeness of the ridiculousness that made it so enjoyable. You know how sometimes a bad movie can make you frustrated because there was actually an interesting idea that could have been fleshed out or a great character you wanted to know better? In this movie? Nothing. The only two choices, and this was apparent from the first shitty voiceover in the opening credits, were to walk out of the theater or sit back and giggle. The DW and his wife chose to giggle. Did the DW mention his wife went with him to this steaming pile of movie poo? That’s why she’s the best wife ever.
Basically, here’s what happened. There were six or seven special effects sequences with the Great Pyramids and wooly mammoths that cost about 75 million dollars. The rest of the time you just sort of meander around soundstages with fake snow and matte paintings and lost bits of Stevie Nicks’ jewelry collection saying stuff like the people of the mountains have great honor and in the end the whitest guy in the movie and the model with blue eyes save all the wise and noble brown people from the evil Arab people. There were dreadlocks and perfect teeth and weird caveman accents and random daubs of facepaint and prophecies and a resurrection of a hot chick by magic.
Yes, 10,000 B.C. deserved the 10 % rating it got from the surprisingly reliable mob justice of Rotten Tomatoes. Because that scale is if you’re looking for an actually good movie. But if you judge 10,000 B.C. against the way it advertised itself, it actually delivered every bit of the hammy schlockfest it promised and then, accidentally, even more than that. Which is how the DW gets back to the dude at the gym.
The gym dude didn’t exactly advertise high art either. His movie trailer, as it were, was a lot like 10,000 B.C. if you think about it – great visual effects glued haphazardly together with little or no substance. He led off with text messages about playing with your boobies, after all. I mean, really? Why not a picture message of his balls while he’s at it? Not that this guy should be absolved for being a bit of a, er, caveman, but it isn’t exactly like he was promising fine wine, home cooked coq au vin, and discussion of Kant while painting your toenails. You don’t go to Porky’s at the dollar theater and expect them to show Michael Clayton.
Compounding the problem is that you didn’t do much to suggest this guy take you seriously, either. If you’re going in with the mindset that not sleeping with him on the first date is a f*$kup and that the way to get back in his good graces is “freebies”, well, the 10,000 B.C. treatment is going to roll on and on and on.
So no, you’re not going to trap him. The dude never said or did anything that indicates he is the least bit interested in anything but some hot gym people lovin’. He was, in your own words, “inappropriate” from the start, brushed off your attempts to engage him in any activity that involved wearing clothes, and ran the other way at the simple suggestion that you’d like to know him a little before the Boneapalooza world tour was to continue in your yoga pants. He won’t be changing his mind any time soon. The DW couldn’t be more sure of it.
Move on. Get out of the gym for a while. Find a dude who at least takes the time to dress up his trailer to look more PG-13 than late night Cinemax. And get 10,000 B.C. in you Netflix cue immediately. It won’t be in theaters much longer.
Best of luck,
Monday, March 17, 2008
I met this guy, "Joe," through mutual friends a few months ago -- as an official set up, not a happenstance encounter. We hit it off, hung out in groups a couple of times and then went on two excellent dates. He's super busy [with a legit reason the DW was asked to edit out] so sometimes it would be a week or more before I'd hear from him, but whenever we did talk or see each other, the conversation and chemistry were both great.
Then he invited me away to the lake with him and the mutual friends (a couple) for the weekend. We had a really really good time: after only two real dates, we spent 48 hours together (including about 3 hours driving, each way, just the two of us), shared a bed, saw each other first thing in the a.m. all sleepy faced and unprimped, and it was still amazing. We had good conversations about big things that are important to us. We slept together (which was also really good) and there was some mild hand holding, and all in all it was great -- I came back from it exclaiming to self, "That was the best weekend ever!"
Then I didn't hear from him for almost two weeks. I'm not one to sit around, so I called/emailed him twice. When I finally heard back from him, he apologized for being so MIA and said he'd been really busy, but he knew that was no excuse for not at least calling me. He came over, told me how amazed he was that I didn't get angry at him, and took me to dinner, where we -- as usual -- had great conversation and I felt really comfortable.
Finally I brought up: "So...can we talk about how busy you've been and get it over with, and then just go on to enjoying each others company?" He laughed and we started talking.
About 2 hours of talking later, both at the restaurant and back at my place, he finally decided: he really likes me, really has a great time being with me, is very attracted to me, but he's too busy right now, he's not the kind of person who can date casually and at the moment he's not able to give me the attention he would want to. Plus, I'll likely be away for 2 months beginning in a few months, and he might have to move away for work next year. If this was two years ago when our lives were more settled he'd be all into it, but it's not so he isn't.
I said: I understand that both of us have uncertain futures, but I think this has the potential to be really good and I really like you and I think we should try it, and cross that bridge when we come to it (fwiw, we both have had successful long distance relationships in the past).
He said: Nope, sorry, just can't do it.
He's 29, I'm 26. This was a few weeks ago and I'm still thinking about it. What gives? Any chance I can romantically show up on his doorstep (or via his cell phone...) and ask for another chance?I firmly believe that if a person really likes someone, they'll make time, even if they're busy. True? Does this mean all of our amazingness together wasn't as amazing from his end, and I'm just not worth it to him?
--He Rained on Our Parade
When the DW was young, he was a really good baseball player. Of course, like every dude since the first caveman who threw a rock just for the fun of it he overestimated his talents a bit, but even by objective standards the DW was really good. So, when high school came to a close, the DW assumed he would play college ball. He showed up for tryouts, played well against the returning members of the team, and waited to get a call asking him what number he’d like on his uniform, where he’d like to hit in the batting order, and if he’d prefer his groupies to be slinky or buxom.
Well, nobody called. No list was posted on a door in the athletic complex. The team simply moved on and began preparing for their season. At first, the DW was utterly confused as to how the team was going to cope without him. Then he rationalized that maybe the team had too many roster spots locked up with scholarships, but maybe next year after a couple dudes graduated they’d find a way to have him. Finally, grudgingly, much much later (like about a month ago), the DW faced the truth that he just wasn’t good enough.
Let’s leave baseball there for now and get to your weekend away with this dude. First of all, if a dude takes you on a trip for two days, out of town, with a couple, he's definitely taking you seriously, or at the very least considering taking you seriously. Hooking up is one thing, but that kind of time commitment is not something a dude forks over just because he’s bored and wants to chat. Especially a dude who, as you mention, finds it hard to call more than once a week.
In fact, you could consider the weekend a tryout of sorts. Did the dude plan this as a tryout? Probably not. And true, you’re not wearing a uniform and competing against a team of other sweaty women throwing a ball around or whatever. Although that would be kind of awesome. But the situation is stuffed full of ramped-up intimacy and the potential for “taking the next step”, as the DW’s writers seem to call it. It’s pivotal. You’re in the car forever together, you’re in the same bed, you have sex, and all the things you mentioned.
So, when you get back and the dude doesn’t call for two weeks? You didn’t make the team. The DW isn't saying it was necessarily a wise decision on your dude’s part, or that it was any one thing you did or didn't do. But, for whatever reason, the dude knew at some point on that trip it wasn't going to work long term. You wouldn’t know at what point he decided, because it would have been like poking himself in the eye with the sharp corner of a Rachael Ray cookbook for the dude to give you the bad news, say, 7 hours into a forty-eight hour trip and have you two spend the last 41 hours miserable and awkward and endlessly hashing over the whys and why nots. The point is that after a trip that intimate, two weeks simply do not pass if a dude is interested. Do. Not. Two weeks didn't even pass for Mr. Superbusy even before you went away together.
As for what came after? The DW suspects this dude felt shitty about not even calling at all and when you prodded him enough that he had to respond, as you should have, he went through the theater of saying it was circumstances and apparently did it well enough that you were let down easier. But that's not when he "finally decided". The DW is 147% positive he knew way, way before then that you two were not happening.
And you really are not happening. Ever. Once a dude says no, especially knowing that he’s giving up a season pass to ski the slopes of Yourunderpants Hills, take him at his word. Whether the reasons he gave were the truth or a load of horseflop, in his head something is making the situation not right and winning him over is simply not going to happen.
So, no. Don't show up on the doorstep. He's not invested in this. If anything did strike up, it would be out of convenience and you would get your heart smooshed even worse later on after even more run-around.
Here’s the good thing about not making the team, though. When the DW didn’t make the college baseball team it was a wake-up call that he wasn’t good enough to play baseball on that level in general. It was a matter of measurable value. College ball. Not happening. Period. Your tryout was with one dude. And for all we know, this “Joe” might be kind of a flaky douchebag with all his “I’m so busy” junk. This wasn’t anything across the board damning about you as a person or as a lay or anything at all. Be exactly the same with the next dude and he might find you the bee’s knees.
Hope the next tryout goes better,
Saturday, March 15, 2008
1. Take a punch in the face – 46%
2. See 27 Dresses in the theater – 28%
3. Browse for an hour and a half in Pottery Barn – 20%
4. Go to any opera – 22%
5. Listen to an entire Sarah McLachlan record – 10%
Well, while the DW appreciates that his readers clearly picture him as the sort of swarthy manly man who would stick out his chin rather than compromise his tastes, the Take a punch in the face option half of you chose is not even near the top of this list. Of course, you may have simply chosen it because it was the obvious punchline (so to speak), but either way, very few dudes like to get punched in the face unless they have extremely niche bedroom habits or major daddy issues. Most of them will have a punched in the face story, though. Here’s one.
When he was 17, the DW was in D.C. on a high school trip and, upon seeing a parked Jeep with its lights on, did what seemed like the polite thing in the mind of a naïve kid from the south. Reached in and turned the lights off. And set off the Jeep’s alarm. That’s right, reached into some random Jeep in D.C. to turn off the lights. Truly those were simpler, more idealistic times in the brain of the wee DW. Anyway, naturally, four large dudes in rugby uniforms immediately come sprinting across a park and three lanes of traffic. They listened to the DW’s explanation for about 1.3 seconds (“It’s okay, I was just-”) and promptly punched him in the face. At first it was a kinda neat feeling in a tingly sparkly vision I Have Just Gained Some Sort of Life Experience way. But then it mostly just hurt like he'd been whacked with some kind of physical manifestation of Rachael Ray’s voice. Yum-O!
Anyway, for those who are interested, here is how the DW would have ranked the choices:
1. Opera. No doubt. The DW likes music to be complicated and new. Which is why the DWs wife won’t go near half his record collection. And opera would be new to his ears.
2. See 27 dresses. The DW can watch just about anything in a theater. Even crapola. Especially going in with spectacularly lowered expectations.
3. Browse Pottery Barn – The DW is not a browser. He believes in surgical strikes if, in the age of internet shopping, stores must be entered at all. In. Out. Like they never knew you were there.
4. Punch me.
5. Sorry, Sarah. The DW is pragmatic. And a whack in the jaw simply gives him less of a headache.
You may have noticed the larger font size this post. A couple readers asked why the text was so small before. Is that a dude thing? Well, it wasn’t a dude thing in terms of dudes having a preference for font size, but the DW supposes it probably was a dude thing in terms of unknowingly being insensitive to the needs of the ladies. Ever attentive, the DW has righted his wrong, now that it has been brought to attention. Which is actually a mini-lesson about dudes. You’ll notice the DW didn’t get defensive or refuse to do anything about the problem. He just didn’t know there was a problem. Tell a dude what you want, and if it’s reasonable and he likes you, he’ll do it. If a dude doesn’t know what the problem is, he’ll continue to frustrate you. Remember this. And enjoy the non-squinty nature of the blog from here on out.
Also, in case you missed the link on the left, the DW is now on MySpace. He’s trying his best to be a total networking ho, but so far the responses have mostly been from big organizations like Hillary Clinton for President and Van Halen 2008. So, if you’re in the MySpace neighborhood, come on by, say hi, and be the DW’s friend so you can leave him little notes with pictures of kittens or whatever people do on MySpace.
Have a good weekend,
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
I used to think I could interpret male behavior very easily. Until now. I met a guy. We hit it off, he called the next day, made plans to meet that week. We talked everyday up til then. Went out, great time. No sex or anything. Continued to talk everyday.
But there is a noticeable difference. Before we went out he would flirt and be sweet and complimentary, like excessively (in the 4 days between meeting him and going on date). Now it's like he almost goes out of his way to joke and tease and not even throw me a bone. Not that I’m in the habit of baiting someone for compliments. The odd things that I can't make heads or tails of: we continue to talk every day for hours on end. Never about "us." It's always devoid of flirtatious undertones or innuendos and just straight up conversation.
We've gone out together on a few dates too. We recently started sleeping together. Nothing's changed (discernibly anyway). My inclination would be to think, he's just in it for the hooking up. But there have been times we've gone out on dates and then we don’t hook up. But the part that really gets me is the frequency and volume of our communication. Why would he talk to me for hours a day if he was only in it for sex? I really just don’t get it at all. I’m not being cocky when I say I'm hot. Some even have called it intimidating. I just really don't get it. It doesn’t make sense to me.
Calls without fail. Great sex. Dates (though always "my type of date" which is low key. I’m a bit of a tomboy. Nothing ever romantic or anything.) What’s going on here? I’d say, maybe he just wants to be friends. But when I put myself in his shoes, I don’t put that much effort into friends of the opposite sex unless I like them "more than a friend" so to speak.
Interesting you should say “throw me a bone”. The other day the DW and his wife were driving east on I-80 gettin' the Led out listening to The Bone, which depending on where you are in the world might be called The Bone, The Bone, or, well, The Bone, and this thing came on called the Freeway Three-Way where they play clips from three stand-up comedians for a minute or so. The DW has no idea who at the station inherited a bunch of free tapes from their uncle’s failed comedy club in San Leandro, but the Three Way is always stuffed with the most un-funny jokes you’ve ever heard. Anyway, one of the comedians this time was doing a bit about people who can worry about anything. I just won the lottery? Oh jeez, that’s gonna be a lot of taxes. You’re giving me a new sportscar? It’s so fast I’ll probably crash it. Etcetera. Not exactly fall on the floor stuff, right? Still, the DW brings it up because it had a nugget of truth that made him think of your current conundrum. My dude is being totally awesome? Eh, he probably just wants to be friends.
Or, to put it another way – Um, what exactly is supposed to be wrong here? This dude talks to you a lot, he doesn’t need to have sex every time you go out, the dates are your kind of dates, nothing changed dramatically after you first had sex, you see a ton of time and effort. Etcetera. The are a lot of women who write the DW who just asked their screens if this degenerate bastard also has the temerity to bring you breakfast in bed, wash your hair, and sing you gentle lullabies as the cherry blossoms slowly fall in the back yard of his seaside estate. Relax, for heaven’s sake. The DW was beginning to think he might never get to say this, but your dude sounds pretty great.
A few points of dude clarification, though, just to make things clearer. In the spirit of gettin' the Led out on The Bone, The Bone, The Bone, or The Bone, let’s give each point an excellently dumb classic rock title.
Lovin’, Touchin’, Squeezin’ (Jokin’, Teasin’) – The DW doubts this dude is going out of his way to joke and tease, despite what you say. Or at least he’s not doing it in an unkind way. It doesn’t fit logically with the rest of his behavior. More likely, it’s simply this – no dude can sustain the momentum he starts when he’s first flirting with you. At first, he’s practically on drugs with excitement about you and your boobies. It fades to more normal life. It just does. And really, thank goodness for that. The DW would not want to see his parents continue to act like the horny, gross, and googly-eyed twenty year olds they were when they met, and neither would you.
Ain’t Talkin’ ‘Bout Love – Dudes don’t talk about “us” just to do it. If you need an “us” talk because something is wrong or you want to move in together or something like that, let him know and he’ll do it. Otherwise? Good lord, no dude is interested in idle “us” chat. He’s talking to you a ton more than most dudes would talk about whatever else you talk about already. That’s a good enough sign. Seriously.
Take it Easy – Basically, you’re making this way more complicated than it is. This dude is doing the right things. And doing is a way better judge of dudes than saying. If you want any more, just quit guessing and bring your worries up with him directly. This dude sounds like he can handle it and your worries all really minor minor minor.
Lets hope the dude stays this good,
Saturday, March 8, 2008
First off, I just want to give you props on your awesomeness. My friends and I love your website.
Okay, so last week I went out with my four single (hot) girlfriends and we just grabbed happy hour drinks at a bar. We were there for maybe an hour and not one guy (hot or otherwise) approached us. I understand that when a lot of girls are standing together, it can seem intimidating, however, we were looking around, giving inviting signals, smiling, laughing and generally exuding positive body language.
I hear about other girls getting approached all the time, so why is it that guys don't seem to want to come over and talk to us when we are doing all the "right" things? I know you may tell us to approach them, and I have no problem doing that, but sometimes it's nice to not always have to be the aggressor, especially in a city that is so aggressive.
ES in NYC
Next time you look up at the TV and see a lion jumping out of some tall grass into a group of deer-ish things with twisty horns, note how the lion goes about business. As the deer-ish herd takes off, the lion doesn’t actually chase the herd. It chases one of the poor little deer-ish thing that runs the wrong direction and finds itself all by its cute defenseless little lonesome. Then it corners the freaked out little deer-ish thing and eats it.
So, yes, the DW realizes that it’s actually the lionesses that do the hunting, and it’s perhaps a little unsettling to draw a parallel between your Five Pack of Hotness hanging out in a bar and being violently taken down by a five hundred pound cat, but bear with him. If that cat goes running into the herd, there’s a whole lot more to worry about than if it takes on the one solitary singled out deer-ish thing.
First of all, there’s the matter of just trying to figure out where to pounce. Lion tamers poke chairs at lions because the four points of the legs are enough to split the cat’s attention enough to confuse it and dissipate its focus. Imagine one of those poor single-minded cats in a running herd with thousands of legs darting back and forth, flying dirt, thundering noise. Its little cat brain might explode.
Dudes are kind of the same way. With five of you, it’s too many boobies and too much talking and we don’t know what the hell’s going on. We feel like we have to jump out of the tall grass and make an impression on you, but also make an impression on your friends because, well, you’re not giving your number to a dude right in front of your friends unless they like him, too, right? It’s too complicated. There’s probably another hot woman standing by herself somewhere else further down the bar. A dude could approach her and feel more himself and more in control of the situation.
And you hit on something with the word “intimidating”, too. Part of that, as you suspect, is sheer numbers. Quite simply, it’s hard enough for a dude to try out his dumb little conversation starters and worry about getting blown off by one woman. But in a public forum? Please. Brutal. If a dude is the least bit shy, you might as well ask him to host the Oscars.
The other part of “intimidating”, however, is exactly the opposite of what you suspected. The “right” signals to you, in this and many other types of situations, often have nothing to do with the “right” signals to a dude. In this case, although it may seem paradoxical, the more smiley and happy and positive you look in the Five Pack of Hotness, the less likely some dudes might be to come over.
Why? What you want the dude to receive with that body language is Come On Over, Big Fella! but what he probably actually receives is Everything’s Just Fine Over Here, Thanks! If a dude looks over and you’re already having the time of your life with a group of close friends, what does a dude think he has to add? He might just think he’d be interrupting some girls night out of dude gossip and lemon drops and tapas and a Sex in the City DVD and manis and pedis or whatever we dudes suppose it is you do when we have no idea what you really do.
Now, the DW is not suggesting you have to mope around like you just listened to Unknown Pleasures ten times over straight whiskey and valium. Have all the fun you want. But if you want a dude to approach you when you’re traveling in fives, maybe split up every now and again. Two of you go over this way, three that way. Go by yourself to get your drink and just stand by yourself for a second looking unoccupied, maybe even near a dude you wish would talk to you for a minute. No acting like you're texting, no reading something, just stand there unoccupied and look around the room for a minute or two. You don’t have to look wounded or limp or wheeze or fall over. Just be there for a moment. Look at the room and take it in. Be a little deer-ish thing with twisty horns. And not just once, split up a few times in case the dude misses the first shot or freezes up and needs a second chance.
Hope this helps. And thanks for the props!
Best of luck to the pack. Be nice to those intimidated dudes, alright?
Thursday, March 6, 2008
Oh, the DW had noticed. And the letters already posted are just the tip of the red hot berg. The DW’s been feeling a little like Captain Kirk lately, living in a universe where you can’t turn over a rock on the remotest of planets without finding a hot chick. (Incidentally check out this excellent gallery of Star Trek babes.) Smokin hot, super hot, damned sexy, fine, the total package, HOT!!!. One after another, at least 85% of the letters the DW has received have contained some kind of very flattering self-assessment. The DW fears that, married or not, the pressure of such a sexy readership might lead him to try to impress so badly he’ll end up like Kirk, wearing a girdle as he steers his ship directly into the sun or something.
Anyway, the show of the hip band that shall go unnamed starts, the band is great, the crowd is congratulating itself for liking the hip band, and the DW thinks about what one woman said in her note directly after her own description of hotness. "I'm saying this because I don't think that this dude met me and then ran for the hills because I'm ugly." And the DW finally gets it. Duh. This is probably the logic of Everyone who writes in. Saying I’m hot is sort of code for Look, me being unattractive isn’t the problem, okay? What else you got?
So, is that all there is to the Declaration of Hotness? Or is there something else the DW doesn’t understand? If any of the women out there want to illuminate the DW, please comment away below. He always wants to learn. In the meantime, he will assume any Declaration of Hotness to mean you are relatively attractive and datable unless the facts strongly suggest otherwise.
And speaking of hotness, let’s briefly revisit the postscript to Dudefile #4 – The Bus Crush where SD wrote “I'm *smokin* hot, I don't know if that makes a difference.” At the time, the DW thought he would address this further, but has since decided against it. We all know smokin hot changes everything, right? Hot women get more dates, make more money, have more people laugh at their jokes. On and on and on. But, if anybody needs elaboration from a dude point of view, write in and we’ll pick it up again.
Other Quick notes:
- Thanks to Slutty SF Girl (who you may remember from Dudefile #5 – The Checkered Past) for this link. It’s just what the DW’s wife had been looking for. For other links, check out the left side of the page over there if you haven’t noticed them before.
- Also, thanks to LR for the lead on a gig. Too kind.
Monday, March 3, 2008
ok, i will keep it simple, but if you need more deets, just ask.
i met someone about 8 months ago, and we hit it off immediately. first date: drinks, at which he asked if i wanted to have dinner the following week. dinner plans fell thru, but we had drinks again, also great. note: minimal physical contact. then we parted ways for quite about two months-each traveling, doing stuff, etc. etc. third date: my place-physical stuff, not the whole shebang at this point, he really just didn't seem keen on committing to a date. he had lost his job, and was looking, etc., but not in any great rush to get together again. but we did after i was a way for a while. 4th date. a falling out ensued. two months go by. i made contact-5th date: great time, talks about doing stuff, etc. etc.
in between dates he mentions wanting to get together, texts, emails, etc., but no hurry to get together. i have called him on this a couple of times, and he chalks up the wishy washyness to not knowing about his future etc.
my question is, fine and well if he wants friend status, which he has said is a given. but he makes no effort. YET, always responds, makes comments about doing something else, etc. so what gives? i don't get why he even bothers responding....
as i write this, it all seems pretty obvious, but in general, what is this all about?
Here are five of the DW’s favorite foods, not necessarily in order.
- any decent spicy curry
(Incidentally, the DW recently had pizza for the first time at Gaspare’s on Geary between 19th and 20th Aves in S.F. Why did I not know about this place sooner? Super thin, greasy, and perhaps the DW’s new favorite in all of the city. And the tiramisu nearly brought him to tears of joy. So there you go, Gaspare’s. Don’t say I never did nothin’ for ya.)
It’s probably not a surprise then, given the list above, that the DW has a piece of chocolate in his mouth right now and just emailed a friend about meeting up for some Indian food in the next couple days. Day before last? Steak burrito. And pizza? Including the other night, the DW must have had pizza five times in the last three weeks.
Here’s the thing, though. That’s food. And as much fun as it is to say a fat steak or Gaspare’s pizza or raspberry cheesecake or French fries are “better than sex”, none of those things are. Unless you’re really, really bad at sex. Like, so bad the DW can’t even make a joke, he just feels deeply sorry for you and wants to buy you a cookie and some instructional videos. None of those food things are even better (to dudes either, believe it or not) than the rush of those early dates where you’re going out with someone who drives you crazy because at that point even the prospect of touching boobies and getting it on seems charged with matters of life and death.
Can you see where the DW is going with this? You’ve gone out with this dude five times in eight months. Forget about eating his favorite food, a dude might call his parents more often than that. Or do the laundry. Or floss. The DW understands that some of this is scheduling, traveling, and whatever, but if a dude is into you, he’ll find a way to see you more often than once every month and a half. He just will.
So why does he respond? Why not? Even after having a falling out on the fourth date- which honestly begs the question how much there is to fall out from on a fourth date- and basically not going out of his way one lick to move along your relationship, you still make it easy for this dude to take you out, have a drink, maybe fool around. The dude probably figures he’s got nothing to lose, right? He doesn’t have to act interested or commit to anything. If you fall out again, you fall out again. If you see him in two months, you see him in two months. As the kids say these days, whatevs. He makes no effort because he has no reason to.
Maybe what the DW would ask is what you, SP, want out of this dude. After you figure that out, ask him if he’s willing to move in that direction. Once he’s prodded out of his stupor, he’ll make a decision. And the DW bets it won't be that he'd like to be friends.
Best of luck with Mr. WishyWashy. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go get a donut,
Saturday, March 1, 2008
I use to talk to this guy on Match a couple of years ago. The very first conversation, it didn't go well, I thought he was an asshole, and he thought I was a bratty bitch.... yet we continued chatting. In the middle of our conversation, something was said and he had said "you have to earn it" and I'm thinking "what a jerk off!"
Now, even though there was a strong chemistry, and yes there was, believe it or not, I ended up disappearing after our very first conversation for 2 months - Match was time consuming and I was getting endless e-mails. I started panning through old emails, came across his, and called him out of the blue....
As expected, he had his wall up - that’s an understatement. He didn't push me away, nor did he tell me not to ever call him. I think him liking me won out more...with him being pissed at me. He liked me and my disappearance kinda hurt him. After that, we talked alot..long hours...every night. But there was always an excuse why we couldn’t meet - it was always this or that with him, at first I was fine with it - as I don’t like to feel hunted.
Then I started to think is he married, but he called me every night ....so that couldn’t be it. He said that I gave him what no other girl that's he's talked to gave him - I pushed his buttons. He is older than me. And he likes the fact that I am younger, inexperienced. And I am alot younger than him. I later found out that he had back problems. He use to be one of those buff guys at the gym, and because of all that strenuous lifting, it did a number on his back. He’s 45 . He said he didn’t want to tell me, because he didn’t want to come off weak - as that might turn me off.
To this day we still haven't met, and I've told him to stop calling me and to go fuck himself. He says that he wants to meet me, but I feel there’s no respect there.... I feel like so much shit has happened already (without us meeting) I don't want to do it. So I know I have a lot of balls thinking this, but I figure, if he wanted to make amends with me...surprise me, send me flowers at work, a card. Ok, so we haven’t even gone out on a date yet, but what the fuck. Show me a sign that you really really like me. He has my work number, and I don't even have his home number anymore and he won't give it to me again. In the beginning when we first talked, if the phone disconnected our call, he would call back lickety split, he would call me at night, every night..now, none of that happens. I wrote him an email the other day, he didn't write back. When he recently called me, I basically said, "why are you calling me, so you can get off on me. Apparently no other chick is doing it for you. I do it for you, don't I.... Then he cursed and said "yeah, you do". He says he can't get me out of his mind, and that he could only imagine if we ever met.
I think if a guy really likes a girl, nothing will stop it. It’s that simple.
When I was younger, I walked into Rite Aid with a friend. There was 2 guys in there. My friend and I didn't notice. As we were walking out, one of the guys came over to me and said that his friend back there saw me. I never gave my number and told him the general area of where I lived....a couple of days passed, the same guy who approached me (who wasn't interested in me, but had approached me on behalf of his friend) that friend paid him to go to house to house to find me. Being a teeny, I didn’t truly see the significance of that. Just my own conceit of how hot I must be. In retrospect, it taught me a valuable lesson.
So Whisp - Should I call him now....and and...I don’t know what...or let the email stand, the one that I sent last week? the email he hasn’t responded to...dreading to hear the "out of the blue call" and what do I say, that I haven’t already been said...
p.s. why would a married guy like yourself care to give advice, opinions, guidance to girls.... what do you get out of it? why would you even care too?
Okay wild orchid,
This is a great example why the DW has a hard time with the word chemistry unless it is used in a context that includes white coats and beakers. Like partner in crime and soul mate, it has essentially no useful meaning to dudes. You describe your first impressions of this dude as “asshole” and “jerk off”, yet you had “strong chemistry”. This leads the DW to believe chemistry can logically be only one of two things.
1) Pure physical attraction and dudelike lust.
2) Magical fairie pixie dust.
If it’s number one, just bone the dude already, find out what you need to know about his former bodybuilder abs or whatever, never call the asshole back, and be done with this whole sordid situation. If it’s two, well, it’s gonna be a long, long road ahead for wild orchid.
Honestly, hacking through the underbrush of this he said, she said the DW cannot find one thing, save for this ethereal notion of chemistry, that you like about him. Not one lonesome little thing. And the only thing he likes about you is that you are young and inexperienced. Which is super creepy. As in, Super. Creepy. Really the only creepier thing I’ve heard in a long time was your digression into that Don Corleone of the Rite Aid that paid his friend to go door to door looking for you. Paid another dude. To go door to door. To find a teenage girl. You need better creep radar. And I mean in a hurry.
Anyway, all this is to say the DW is horribly confused. This is truly an astonishing amount of weirdness and drama that is utterly over his head. The only thing he can say for sure is that there is so much negativity, complication, and sheer white noise of supposition about this situation before you’ve even met, that there is approximately a negative 189% chance of this turning into something that does the least bit of good for either of you or anyone you know. Do not call this dude, about whatever you it is you think is going on, or for any other reason that comes to mind. Ever. Move on. That’s it.
Here’s to finding a dude with whom you can exchange pleasant words and niceties,
PS- since you ask, I do this for reasons like I said in the original post. Maybe I’ll add some text to the front page of the site, too. Some women friends thought it would be fun and perhaps, in some very small way, helpful to offer to the public what I was already offering in my kitchen over dinner- sharing elementary dude knowledge. Since I love to write, have an operating and research budget of $0.00, this seemed like a good format in which to start.