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A Womansplaination: How to connect with men

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I hope you didn’t click on this link for advice on how to romantically connect with men, because that would be as embarrassing for me as it would be for you. Please seek immediate help elsewhere.

No, this is for those women in brown leather boots and a beige cardigan, journaling at the local café, wondering – “I have no guy friends. How do I make them?”

Never fear, Galloswag is here to share her decades of expertise on how to be legit friends with men. Get out that pink-glitter gel pen and get in formation, cuz I have a lot of womansplainin’ to do here… and I do NOT repeat myself.

1) Break the ice with a clever, fitting quote from a “bro” movie

What’s a bro movie, you ask? Anything with Will Ferrell, The Hangover, Ted.. you know, all those movies you let your ex-bf watch with his bros and didn’t even resent being excluded. Hold your nose and rent a few. Step 1. Watch them. Step 2. Watch them all again. Step 3. Repeat steps 1-2. Memorize every word. Marinate in them.

Then bide your time, like a patient panda. Wait casually for a mundane conversation with a male you’ve targeted for future friendship. With every sentence of dialogue, rack your Ferrell-saturated brain for any possible connection. When you find a hit, *KAPOW* lay it on them.

I can tell you’re not getting it. Example-

Future bro: How was your weekend?

You: Good! My best friend got married. It was such a gorgeous wedding.

Future bro: Oh, yeah? ..cool.. *entire body sags in boredom*

You: Yeah we’ve known each other forevs, so the whole time I was like *scrunch your face* “I’m in a glass cage of emotion!”

Current bro: *body flooded with energy, begins to recite Anchorman from beginning to end between joyful chuckles*

Trust me ladies, this always works. Your only potential pitfall would be to memorize a few quotes, but be unable to hold your own during the recitation of the entire movie. Men can identify a fraud, and they will not be fooled by your half-bootied performance. Don’t shirk! Make the commitment and it will pay off.

2) Convert at LEAST 80% of your formerly verbal, text-y communication to memes and gifs

If you like to express yourself through eye contact and a lot of words, you need to take that preference and blend it to smithereens just like the kale-acai-almond butter smoothie you had for breakfast this morning. Nothing wins over brotherly love like a good reaction meme in a text or fb convo.

Whenever you’re writing a response to a future bro, ask yourself: how could I capture all of this in a single meme? If your idea is more complex than that, you may proceed to a gif. If a gif is inadequate, you can be sure the guy probably won’t want to read it. At this point, your best options are to a. abandon train of thought, or b. FaceTime your female bestie instead.

3) Talk some trash

[Important: not to be confused with talking dirty…unless friending is not your goal, and then I suggest you consult other sources as mentioned above].

Sometimes, being ru-ru really is the way to go. I’ve never seen men beam at me with quite the same warmth and affection as when I drop in a good old fashioned, nonsensical mom joke.

Although beware: this is a subtle art form. Despite their bluster, men can be little delicata squashes when it comes to certain insecurities. I would never, for example, mock the facial hair of a man with real undergrowth issues. I’d keep it in the territory of nick-naming one of my super buff friends Johhny Bravo. You’re going for messin’, not mentally distressin’.

[Also important: don’t bring the kitchen if you can’t take the heat. Like iron sharpens iron, guys have been training in the Dojo of Bro Jokes since they were mere babes. Expect some return messin’. If it gets too intense, cry it out in the bathroom, roll up your sleeves and adjust your bra, and then get back in there.]

I have already given you three solid ways to connect with men on the bro level. For $39.95/hr, I will personally infiltrate your work and social settings to shadow you and give you instantaneous feedback. But WAIT: If one of your friends is good looking and wants to take me out for a kale-acai-almond butter smoothie, I will even slash that fee in half.

Go out and befriend!

White people, please stop making babies.

No, I didn’t stutter. White-white child production needs to end.

This sentiment has no political, religious, or racist motivation. No – this is a sincere, heartfelt plea from yours truly, who is in fact the product of one of these white-white baby-making ventures.

On a recent trip to Florida, I went to the beach per usual. On said beach, I laid under the sun brazenly, like a normal human being. But I do not have the skin of a normal human being. I have the tortured, angsty skin that can only arise from generations upon generations of European love-making. If my skin was a musical genre, it would be 90s goth – super pale, forever stuck in pubescence, and tremendously angry at the world – particularly bright happy sunlight. Thus, it screeched with indignant rage that I dare enjoy my vacation like 100% of Americans like to enjoy their beach vacations – soaking in the sun with some of my favorites. My skin attacked me with every tool in its belt – it stung, itched, chafed, and peeled. If I exposed my skin to temperatures even one degree hotter than its ideal, it literally* caught on fire; one degree cooler and it literally sent my entire body into hypothermic shock. I have never taken so much naproxen and Benadryl just to keep from bursting into tears or running wildly around my vacay house in a crazed effort to distract myself. It was the second** most traumatic experience of my life.

That is why I stand before you now, with tears of sincerity glistening in my beautiful blue eyes: Please save the next generation of humans from this sunburn madness.

This has nothing to do with mixed-race children being beautiful (um, hello Shemar Moore). This is not an appeal rooted in white-hatred. Indeed, it is my tender love for the descendants of current white people that I beg you to give them a better life. Neither is it somehow an appeal rooted in white-supremacy. Indeed, I hope that there are no 100% white people remaining by 2100.

Please, men and women du blanc – stop strengthening this debilitating genetic mutation that makes white people unfit for venturing outside for a full 60% of the year (at least in the south). Don’t be selfish. Lean in, and make a less sunburned world. A less painful world. A better world.

— EDITORIAL NOTES —

*By literally, I mean figuratively.. of course.

**#1: being a true conservative in 2016.

THE FEATURED PICTURE IS NOT ME! I would never wear such an ugly bikini.

The Cray Aunt Theory

Be honest with yourself – we all* have an aunt that’s a little quirky. “My crazy aunt” just rolls of the tongue, yes? No further argument needed. But how did cray aunts become such a widespread phenomenon? Especially cray aunts like myself with few signs of starting their own little litter, our existence is indeed a profound mystery that has troubled scientists** for centuries.

I’m assuming that because we cray aunts exist, there has to be some utility to our existence. Otherwise, we would have gone extinct long ago. According to the newly developed Cray Aunt Theory***, not to be confused with the Gay Uncle Theory, cray aunts serve several important functions that can increase the likelihood of a fragment of our cray genes being propagated via our adorbs little nieces and nephews. Consider the following:

1) Cray aunts are very unlikely to have important plans on weekend nights, and therefore serve as excellent last minute baby-sitters for their sibs. Bo nus: because we are blood related and naturally adore our siblings’ little tikes, we are less likely to text bae while babe chokes on a lego.

2) Cray aunts can serve as potent motivation for their siblings children, girls especially, to not grow up cray. Their parents have a real life, familiar example to point to when their daughters are being ornery – “Aunt Claire didn’t wear sundresses either. You don’t want to end up like your cray Aunt Claire, do you?” *Point to a pic of cray aunt* *child gasps in horror* … And everyone knows sundresses are the key to mating success, at least for southern females.

3) Cray doesn’t preclude aunts from making moneyzzz. When I become a Cray Rich Aunt (CRA), I plan to take my nieces and nephews on fun adventures. Skiing, hiking, cow-tipping, and when my nieces are old enough, we will drive around in my classic ‘stang and holler out the window at young attractive men. Cat-calling with your cray aunt is guaranteed to increase the numbers of dates you will land, although I cannot comment on the quality. But either way, our genes will march on.

These are just the first three, but I’m hopeful this intro will instigate a tsunami of double blind, placebo controlled clinical trials to investigate this further, and truly really establish causality.****

— EDITORIAL NOTES —

* Besides me. All my aunts are exemplary aunts. If they are cray in any way, it’s crazy awesomeeeee

**Or a scientist (me). And by “centuries” I mean “several hours”

***Galloswag 2016, personal observations

****Because everyone knows you don’t know anything unless it was done with a DBPCCT

I like big guns and I cannot lie

What can I say, this is attractive *shrug emoji* jk.. kinda!

I’m tired of lying to myself and the world, and I will no longer live in a ratty dish cloth of guilt – I love me a man with musclezzzz.

I know that to some, this confession seems ridiculous. Why would anyone feel guilty about appreciating a good pair of latissimus dorsi? Well it seems to be a popular narrative among *some* communities that it’s a horrible thing to ever consider any feature of the opposite sex besides their personality. Bonus points if you can actually stand hanging out with them and enjoy the same food. But evaluate someone based on their looks?! *gasp* Be gone, you trollop!

Even if you can’t relate to that, there’s another narrative among some people that goes something like this: On one hand, you have the beefy, unintelligent gym hounds who are obsessed with their bodies, and on the other hand, there are the intelligent, environmentally conscious, Prius-driving gentlemen who gravely dress their skinny bodies in worn leather and plaid, put on artsy hats, and discuss poetry at the local café. The choice:

1) A lumbering idiotic Neanderthal with six pack abs

2) A refined modern man who can loan you his pants in a pinch.

This my dear children, is a false dichotomy. Let me ‘splain.

For most of us, especially as we age, maintaining a really nice body is hard work. Letting your body deteriorate into limp noodles is easy. A consistently muscular body tells me that this stud has the discipline to set goals and live a consistent enough life to reach those goals. Discipline and drive are attractive. Hardly Neanderthal qualities.

– If I care enough about someone to date or marry them, I want them to be around for a while. Exercising, unless taken to an excess, is healthy. A muscular man will be better able to protect me from bad guys and be useful (e.g. mow the lawn, chop wood shirtless (ow ow!), etc.) for a longer time, if he has muscles.

– I have worked pretty hard and made sacrifices (oh the donuts that are still alive today because of my great discipline!) to be a lean mean machine. Yes, for shallow reasons – I like to oil my muscles and flex in front of a mirror for hours and hours – but it’s also just healthy (physically and mentally) and something I value in myself. I would resent dating or marrying someone who couldn’t understand or support those goals. And the best situation would be someone who was an inspiration. We could spur each other on to better health and reaching new heights. Like literally, climb Mt. Everest together. Check out each other’s booties as we squat in unison at the gym. Make eyes at each other as we share a kale smoothie with two straws. Whatever.

So, now for the caveats.

– Whether or not a guy has a nice body should not be the only or most important factor when you are considering whether or not to date him. All I’m saying is, it’s ok for it to be one factor of many.

– To some weirdos, a muscular physique isn’t important at all. Fine, then WRITE YOUR OWN BLOG AND TELL US ALL ABOUT IT

– There are many other things about a man’s looks aside from his degree of muscularity. Does he have dimples, a chiseled jaw, gleaming white teeth, eyes that sparkle only when they look at you, and a cleft chin? Oh, let us hope so. BUT, many of the points I’ve made only apply to physique, not genetic blessings of bone structure. So if you’re holding out for that cleft chin, you are shallow. Shame. Shame!!

– Some men are strong and work out like beasts but don’t necessarily look very big, and some guys were just gifted with great bods. You know the type- as long as they do two push-ups a week they look like Vin Diesel. Pfft okay. I’m talking in generalities. Again, a rockin’ bod shouldn’t necessarily be the first and foremost thing to consider. I just think it is worthy of factoring into an overall evaluation.

– What I’m saying could apply to females too, although not for some of those features guys seem to value so dearly — for example, a woman cannot do much naturally to change the size of her bosoms* while she is trying to stay healthy in other ways. The hour glass figure is just not something that all women can attain, sans plastic surgery. So if you’re a guy reading this, getting offended, and ready to angrily demand, “How would you like it if a guy had this attitude about female’s bodies?!” I’d say, “Calm down, Charlie Brown.” I think it would be perfectly reasonable for a strong muscular man to want a sleek tigress. To disqualify a woman because she’s not the right cup size… well that is indeed a bit shallow, because it has nothing to do with her character. Shame. Shame!!

In toto, I like men with muscles. Because I value health, drive, and self-discipline. And man bosoms are unseemly.

—- EDITORIAL NOTE —

*#galloblog is safe for the whole family

;)

My friends and I have spent an embarrassing amount of time* debating the true, deep meaning of the semi-colon-right-parenthesis, or as its better known, the simple and sassy ‘ 😉 ‘.

My friends.. Milo and Josiah**.. strongly contend that a wink is always a flirty thing. I contend – with the strength of a bear! – that winks are meant for teasing. Sometimes that teasing is flirting, and sometimes it’s just for funsies.

Even the names of winks give us a clue – the knowing wink, the conspiratorial wink… Neither of these is supposed to convey “Hey gurl, I wanna get witchu.” They were designed to convey some light-hearted fun, some mischievous silly-sils if you will. I refuse to believe that every time a man engages in lively banter with me that he is flirting.

As a Woman Who Winks (WWW) I can say with firm certainty that my jokes and/or winks are not meant to convey my romantic or sexual interest. If they have been, I have put out an invitation to my Dad, my academic advisor, my undergraduate assistant, and everyone who lays eyes on my Facebook status updates. So.. no. Just stop.

One of my peripheral visions in life, that I’m nonetheless deeply committed to, is to make people lolz. I’m 100% sure that there are also men out there who share a similar commitment to inducing lolz on all sorts of people – some they may be attracted to, others they’re probably not. I WILL NOT over-interpret their jokes as some low key declaration of their personal attraction for me.

Yet we must deal with the Milo’s and Josiah’s in our life, who apparently think there is no such thing as innocent fun in the world. Therefore, I propose that the ambiguous wink be supplemented with extra emojis to clear the air. Please consider the following:

😉 + 😀 = [platonic] “Heehee”

😉 + 😥 = “I have a hot pepper in my eye”

😉 + ❤ = “Hey gurl/boi, I wanna get witchu”

So WWW and MWW, stand strong! Keep winking with wild abandon! And if you meet a Milo or Josiah.. just be prepared to supplement your winks so they don’t “get the wrong idea,” as some would say.

—- EDITORIAL NOTES —-

*Because any amount of time discussing this in detail is embarrassing.

**Real content, fake names. No one’s reputation should have to suffer through association with #galloblog.