June 27, 2010

A Guest Post by SSDATED

*Disclaimer. There are clingy chicks in the world. There are clingy boys in the world. This is about the rest of us.  Who get a bad rep.

I’m a planner. Some people think that’s a flaw. I think it’s brilliant. And FYI: Planning and spontaneity are not mutually exclusive. My passport is always up to date. At a moment’s notice I’m ready for a summer road trip. Camping? Sure!  ouse-party in Kelowna tonight? Fuck yeah…I’ll get gas, you get snacks and we can be there in five hours! I’m basically up for anything at anytime. Party at the moon tower and I’m rounding up money, kegs (for you guys of course, I’ll drink diet coke) and Mathew McConaughey. But essentially I’m looking for fun fun fun all the time time time.

Now while I may spend the majority of my days egotistically thinking I’m super awesome and RARE, I would hedge my bets that there are lots of lovely ladies out there just like me. Ladies who have careers. Ladies who have friends. Ladies who have goals, dreams and priorities. Frankly, Ladies who have shit to do. And yet. Ladies who have time to date. Like I have time to date. Ladies like me, who are available. And not because we’re clingy. Or desperate. Or insecure. Weak or sad. Losers or duds.

We’re just simply not retarded. Allow me to elaborate.

The biggest complaint I hear from men (trying to date me, trying to date others, floundering about) is that they’re busy. They’re tired. They’ve just got so much going on *stifles eye roll* But here’s the thing of the thing. There are a lot of hours in the day. There are a lot of days in a week and weeks in a month. Our lives are fucking filled with time.  So why can’t these men find any of it.

They’re retarded? They’re confused? Something in their DNA? Momma didn’t teach ‘em right? They’re really just big babies? I honestly couldn’t tell you. It baffles me to no end.

Logic tells me that fun…is fun. Experience tells me that fun is…awesome.  And since you can never have too much awesome in your life, logic tells me that I would want to squeeze every drop I can of it into my life. I mean honestly.

I like to make plans in advance. Why? Because then I can fit more in. I don’t wait till the weekend to make weekend plans. Why?  Because when three people call Saturday afternoon to kick it Saturday night…I have to pick one. Only one plan gets made. I only get 1/3 of the fun. However, if those same three people call by Wednesday, it’s likely that I can make plans with one on Friday night, one on Saturday night, and possibly one even Sunday afternoon. Three out of three. That’s one whole cup of fun. Fucking Awesome.  Now sometimes shit doesn’t work out and schedules collide and other times there simply aren’t plans to be made. And that leaves all that lovely room for spontaneity.

And I know that often guy’s want to leave their options open. They don’t want to commit to a plan, a girl, an idea for the weekend. And that’s fine. Go ahead and wrap yourself up in your issues. It could very well work out awesomely for you. I’m not saying I have all the answers. I’m just offering an alternative perspective. A reason she doesn’t answer your weekend texts. A reason she cuts ties after three weeks without connecting for a date. So like I said, I don’t know all the answers. Not by a long shot. But I do know about chicks. And I know about awesomeness, lol. And I know about planning. And I know about having the most fun possible. So with all that said, I leave you with this.

Boys, I beg you. Next time you meet a girl who only wants to make advance plans with you. Or calls you on Tuesday to make plans for the weekend. Try to remember. While it is possible she’s clingy or high maintenance. It’s just as likely that she’s awesome…and quite simply smarter than you. So do a cross-word or brush your teeth with the other hand and get that brain power up. Step it up a notch, get your shit together and get the most out of your life. Or don’t. I mean do what you want. But don’t be shocked when you call on Saturday and she’s busy.

Just Sayin’.

Class dismissed.

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