It’s A Chick Thing
photo by Linda Brand
“Keziah is coming over! I have to change!”
“You broke up like a year ago… why do you even care?”
“It’s important!”
“How is it important?”
“It’s important that he knows I’m hot!”
I sighed and let her go change and put on make-up. This is the kind of thing that chicks do.
Ladies, how about this one? You “accidentally” send a text to a guy you dated twice, talking about what a great time you’re having screwing some other guy?
“Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to send that to you…”
To a man it seems neurotic, but to a woman it seems quite normal.
Or try this on for size. You saddle up and go over to a girl’s house. It’s the middle of winter, and you’re cold as a nun’s nipples. You put on a singlet, shirt, jumper, jacket, and maybe an overcoat. You arrive and she’s wearing a mini-skirt and a low-cut top.
“Damn,” you think. “It’s so cold, but you look so hot!”
Let’s be real though. Who does she think she’s fooling? Does she really expect us to believe that she’d be hanging out wearing glitter make-up if you weren’t coming over?
Imagine if a guy did that. Imagine if a girl called me saying she’d be over in 40 minutes. When she got here, I’d be sitting on the couch wearing a pimp hat, a gold jacket and jeans with my name stitched on the ass.
“Sup?”
“Uhh… you look… good!” she says, walking in wearing her gym clothes.
But hey, why stop there. Since we love dressing up, we may as well wear a costume. A Choder Boy costume. That will let her know how much I really care.
Here’s another scenario for your delicate consideration. There is a sudden black-out in Maitland and Killingsworth starts going through his phone, looking for girls he can text, call and/or harass. He finds his ex-girlfriend Monica’s number and starts texting her to ask if she prefers to do stealthy silent farts, or long satisfying ones.
“Um… I’m sorry, I really don’t know who this is or why you would be texting me. Who are you?”
Little does she realise, every Friday and Saturday night, Killingsworth has been receiving drunken Mystery Midnight texts from her, addressing someone called “Jess”.
“Yes, you have no idea. Is that the reason you send me ten texts accidentally every weekend, telling me how you’re passing out in the toilet.”
“Oh I … got a new phone today…” Lies!
The truth is, us guys know what’s going on… But we never call you out because we kinda like it.
