Single White Nerd: “Do You Want Me To Be Honest?”
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a blogumn by Michael Kass
Seven terrifying words. On the one hand I absolutely want her to be completely honest. All the books I’ve read tell me that honesty is the best policy. On the other hand, I have a rather delicately constructed sense of self-esteem. An honesty overdose could shatter me.
I should mention that her question is a response to a question of my own: “Why did we land in the no-sex zone?”
Emily and I met online two months ago. The emails rapidly became flirtatious, even suggestive. By the time we met in person, there was no doubt in my mind that she liked sex. Also she was smart and pretty, all that stuff.
So we met in person and had a great conversation. More flirtatious emails, now bordering on the pornographically explicit. She came over to my apartment to “help me decorate.” My understanding was that the whole decoration thing was code for “have sex.” I based this understanding on the fact that Emily had actually said “We can pick out a new bedspread and then mess it up while naked.”
Emily showed up on the appointed day at the appointed time. She walked into my apartment and proceeded to pick it apart. She hated the tiki lights framing my balcony window. (For the record—I like them. They’re festive.) My new used blue leather couch offended her sensibilities. I had not hung the pictures correctly on my wall.
Exhausted by her orgy of criticism, she then plopped down on my couch, wedged herself into the corner and fortified herself with pillows. I read the message loud and clear: don’t touch me, you maldecorated neanderthal. Ok, fine. So we talked for an hour or so. Then it was time for her to leave. I went to hug her and she kissed me.
Let me type that out again: She. Kissed. Me.
A real kiss. With tongue and little moany noises.
The next day, she sent me an email. No mention of the pillow fortress or the tiki lights. Just a thank you for my hospitality and for the kiss. Now thoroughly confused, I invited her over again. This time for dinner. When she arrived, I went to kiss her. She turned her head and offered her cheek. I tried again. She turned the other cheek.
We had dinner. And wine. She left.
Now, one week later, I’m sitting across from her at a bar. We’ve each had a couple of beers. The conversation has been flowing. And I ask: “Why did we land in the no sex zone?”
She takes a sip of beer. “Do you want me to be honest?”
Seven terrifying words. I look at her, trying to pierce her soul with my slightly inebriated gaze. I drain my glass. And then I nod. “Yes,” I say with more confidence than I feel.
She opens her mouth to speak and. . .speaks. Honestly. When she’s finished, I smile. “Thank you for being so honest.” Then I get up, go to the bathroom, and slam my head against the wall.
huh? wait? what did she say?!!!! details, dude!
huh? wait? what did she say?!!!! details, dude!
Yes, though I understand the artistic virtue of leaving it out, I also am dying to know what she said. Please do tell.
Yes, though I understand the artistic virtue of leaving it out, I also am dying to know what she said. Please do tell.
Though, I also want to say that you're well shot of her. Even if you had been able to take the relationship further, it's obvious that she's a "mixed message" kind of girl, and that would get old after awhile. Hot and cold is the worse. Normal sustained interest is the sexiest.
But at least she was woman enough to give you a reason for her behavior. Seriously, was it b/c you didn't get upset when she criticized your decor. I really want to know.
Though, I also want to say that you're well shot of her. Even if you had been able to take the relationship further, it's obvious that she's a "mixed message" kind of girl, and that would get old after awhile. Hot and cold is the worse. Normal sustained interest is the sexiest.
But at least she was woman enough to give you a reason for her behavior. Seriously, was it b/c you didn't get upset when she criticized your decor. I really want to know.
A slightly enshortened transcript of the omitted conversation:
Emily: I spent most of that first afternoon at your apartment waiting for you to attack me.
Me: But you seemed ambiguous at best. All hidden behind the pillows and squinched into the sofa.
Emily: True. But I could have been swayed–that's what ambiguous means.
Me: Well.
Emily: You should have attacked me. If you really were attracted to me.
Me: Ah. Thank you for being so honest. . .
A slightly enshortened transcript of the omitted conversation:
Emily: I spent most of that first afternoon at your apartment waiting for you to attack me.
Me: But you seemed ambiguous at best. All hidden behind the pillows and squinched into the sofa.
Emily: True. But I could have been swayed–that's what ambiguous means.
Me: Well.
Emily: You should have attacked me. If you really were attracted to me.
Me: Ah. Thank you for being so honest. . .
Duuuuuude. Emily sounds lame and super mixed-messagy.
Duuuuuude. Emily sounds lame and super mixed-messagy.
OK…why do girls always think they need to wait for the guy? it's clear that "the rules" have changed. she is going to be very lonely waiting for someone to court her. it literally takes 2 to tango….oy.
OK…why do girls always think they need to wait for the guy? it's clear that "the rules" have changed. she is going to be very lonely waiting for someone to court her. it literally takes 2 to tango….oy.
Also, if you think it's the guy's job to make the first move, then it's your job to give the green light. If she's ensconced in pillows or refusing kisses or sending mixed messages, then that's not the green light. Romance is really awkward for both people. I hate when one (obviously awkward) person gets on top of the other person for being awkward. Such a double standard. Also, she might be disappointed with the guy that goes for it, despite not having gotten any kind of body language or verbal green light — that's kind of icky, and a sign that he's not paying attention.
Also, if you think it's the guy's job to make the first move, then it's your job to give the green light. If she's ensconced in pillows or refusing kisses or sending mixed messages, then that's not the green light. Romance is really awkward for both people. I hate when one (obviously awkward) person gets on top of the other person for being awkward. Such a double standard. Also, she might be disappointed with the guy that goes for it, despite not having gotten any kind of body language or verbal green light — that's kind of icky, and a sign that he's not paying attention.
As a girl, I sort of see Emily's point. You want to be pursued, especially sexually. Cuz if you attack the guy, he might think you are a hooker. And if she kissed him first, that's the universal signal for, "I'm interested in you, dude! Make the next move."
I did make the next move. She gave me the cheek. The CHEEK!
As a girl, I sort of see Emily's point. You want to be pursued, especially sexually. Cuz if you attack the guy, he might think you are a hooker. And if she kissed him first, that's the universal signal for, "I'm interested in you, dude! Make the next move."
I did make the next move. She gave me the cheek. The CHEEK!
Dude, she's not worth it. A girl who doesn't know how to say what she wants is a girl who will waste all your time fucking with your head (and only your head, alas).
Now go sleep off the beer, get some stitches for your poor head, and move on.
Dude, she's not worth it. A girl who doesn't know how to say what she wants is a girl who will waste all your time fucking with your head (and only your head, alas).
Now go sleep off the beer, get some stitches for your poor head, and move on.
I can't believe you people! Engaging in this petty bickering about pursuer vs. prey and letting Mike sit there with the big elephant in the room, alone and lonely, unable to address his very fundamental relationship issues. To wit: Tiki lights? Used blue leather couch? Even if used in the proper ironic context, Mike has neither the too-short, tight pants nor the plaid hat to pull off the post-hipster early 90's retro-chic look. It will forever remain a barrier to sustained, healthy sexual relations.
Mike, you can get help. We're here to help.
I can't believe you people! Engaging in this petty bickering about pursuer vs. prey and letting Mike sit there with the big elephant in the room, alone and lonely, unable to address his very fundamental relationship issues. To wit: Tiki lights? Used blue leather couch? Even if used in the proper ironic context, Mike has neither the too-short, tight pants nor the plaid hat to pull off the post-hipster early 90's retro-chic look. It will forever remain a barrier to sustained, healthy sexual relations.
Mike, you can get help. We're here to help.