Have made startling discovery: Am just too perfect.
Alright, so is not exactly as it sounds but v. interesting insight into Fishy workings. Am the sort of gal that mothers (though perhaps not the UMF) describe as lovely. Or, as E-Friend, C so kindly points out, am... precious. Perhaps too precious. What? Was not aware that there was a Preciousness Scale and that somehow, yours truly is sitting at far end with likes of Shirley Temple, lap dogs and Royal Dalton porcelain.
C: Maybe you're just too precious and pedestal.
H: What?
C: You need to learn to like beer. And maybe pick your nose or something. Start drinking tequila shots...with the lemon and salt. Any chance to legitimately lick yourself is good. And any drink with juice and vodka is a no-no.
H: Just because I don't drink beer does not make me high maintenance! Though, the whole getting ready ritual certainly qualifies, but let's not bring that up. How about Bacardi Ice? Out of the bottle? Doesn't that count for something?
C: That's almost as bad.
H: Damn. But! But! I curse like a sailor... I love red meat... I know stuff about cars!
C: That does count for something.
Count for something? Hmmmm. As was v. curious as to precious status among the male population, did v. brazen thing and asked both J and S. How precious is too precious, and is yours truly really on the extreme end?
H: Am I annoyingly girly? I mean, too prim?
J: You drink, smoke (funny cigarettes), talk dirty and hook up. That's not prim.
H: Ok, so now I sound like a classless whore. That's SO much better.
So far, research efforts NOT yielding pleasing results. S, though at times comes off as the only man God forgot to give a soul, turned out to have deeper thoughts on said issue.
H: Am I too clean... too girly?
S: Um, you can be. I guess so. This feels like a trap.
H: Come on. We've always been brutal with each other. Why change now?
S: True. Ok, so I used to think you were high maintenance. Now I'm not sure if I was just crazy or what.
H: That sounds about right.
S: Shut it. I think you can come off that way sometimes. You know, the Princess Thing.
H: My friend says I need to start doing tequila shots and picking my nose.
S: Well, you're not what I would call a "man's woman," if that's what you mean.
H: Meaning? Are you saying I'm a lipstick lesbian?
S: I wish. No. What I mean is, there's a certain group of girls that I call "men's women." They do guy stuff. They just go out and hang. They watch porn and drink beer (or tequila shots, if you will). They watch football. They don't wear makeup.
H: I watch football! One of out five can't be too bad. Is this where I mention I can load a gun?
S: Fine. Anyway, these women are in a unique position to seduce men... often they become their "friends" first and then WHAM!
H: I see.
S: So you might give off a different first impression even though, in the end, you can do all this stuff. You'll just have to find a guy who can tolerate your non-beer-drinking ways.
H: It's all my other "ways" that are the selling points, believe me. What kind of prim and proper girl talks dirty? Hmmm?
S: (laughing) That is so true. What kind of girl comes over to S's house to try out his new sex swing?
H: You don't really have one. Don't tease me! (laughing) Uh, I mean, I don't know that girl.
S: See... nothin' too clean about you.
And there, from the Boy-With-No-Soul was an honest break down. Sure, this fish may look like she's not up for any nail chipping activities, but her presence on the Preciousness Scale is certainly deceptive. Am still the gal worthy to go home and meet the mother, but am also the kind to play dirty with the boys. As long as there will be beer alternatives.
Indeed. Chardonnay, anyone?