An Estrogen Induced Rant

I need to be a little more careful about what I say on this blog. Apparently the LAPD and Captain Hammer are among our viewers.

Well, not really, because this is a written blog, not a video blog, and I don't have a PhD in Horribleness. Not yet, at least.

Anyhow. I have made a decision as of late: dating is stupid. I don't like it. I think that horomones are stupid as well. As are members of each gender between the ages of eighteen and twenty-six. Before eighteen they are just immature and after twenty-six (or so) they are either married or bitter (at least if they are LDS).

Females are stupid because they usually either want what they can't have or what would be bad for them. Sometimes both in one fell swoop. They want what doesn't want them back or what lives hundreds of miles away or what doesn't exist. Philip, Beast, Eric, Aladdin, Prince Charming; none of them really exist! What we get are real, live men with real, live flaws, which, don't get me wrong is fine! Life would be incredibly boring without the flaws and the quirks, but ladies, we cannot pretend that those quirks don't exist! We will end up breaking our own heart! And why go through all that effort if we can just let a guy come along and do the breaking for us. What a gentlman, saving us the trouble. Gee, thanks.

Boys are stupid because they don't realize that we are breaking our spirits over them and so they don't realize that we read into their every movement, thinking, hoping, that maybe that one adjustment means they want to be closer to us. No! That's not what that means! It just means that he is uncomfortable on that part of the couch because there is a board or something jabbing him in the back! Males don't realize that the one playful punch they land on our arms makes our stomachs leap and that one wink, or grin, or laugh makes us feel like we are the only person in the room. Maybe stupid is too harsh a judgement to pass; oblivious might be more accurate. But to a girl whose eyes are brimming with a cocktail of hope and heartache there isn't much of a difference.

Ladies, just cry out that cocktail, throw in some olives, maybe a little something slightly stronger than salt water. Drink it down. Feel the burn of it. Better you than him.