What Broke my day: When guys try to prove something through their vehicles. If you have a loud sound system sir, or a super nice sports car that you make go 'vroom vroom' at every corner, us girls automatically know you are compensating for something. Yesterday at dinner, this decent looking male pulled up to the restaurant in a very nice black, sports car, booming his music. My first thought: somebody is compensating for something, showing off to the girl he was meeting. Second thought: He's young, he either has had everything handed to him with a silver spoon, something not uncommon in Holland, MI, or he's successful:maybe. But then he had to go and step out of his car. There on his feet were two poop-brown, pieces of incomplete plastic, so unflattering, and disgusting, I don't even think they should be called shoes. Yes, those holey pieces of fashion suicide, called crocs.They were never intended to be worn in public, they started out as gardening clogs. I know this because when I was 8, I bought my mom a pair for her gardening. Back to the compensation of that dude. Honestly men: yes, women do like sports cars, but when you wave it around in our face making it extremely conspicuous, we know your making up for something. And I'm not saying that it has to be a certain appendage, it can be mommy issues, intelligence level, money problems (you own a nice car, but you live in a trailer park for instance) or a plethora of other things. Girls aren't stupid, we know that you have to make up for something. But, if you are driving a car of that sort, please, for goodness sakes, at least make sure you look the part of successful, handsome, well put-together guy. Because when you step out in crocs it makes me want to ask you, "You can afford that decent car, with a decent sound system, but you can't afford a decent pair of shoes? " Priorities man, priorities. And, for the record, that flamboyant ass grab that you performed as you walked away with your lady friend doesn't help your case. But PDA is for another day (hey...that rhymed! and now I'm happy.)
What made my day: Cosmopolitan Magazine. The young college girls Bible to relationships.Now, I'm very religious and I cringe calling it a Bible, but think about it: the Bible is supposedly a manual on how to live your life, Cosmo is a manual on how to live your life... like a whore. I'm not calling myself a whore (okay, maybe I am... but it's hard to rate sexual promiscuity on a scale of prude to whore), but every month I learn certain valuable life lessons on relationships, and last month I even learned things about my body that I should know, but didn't, all thanks to their boob article. The whole point of Cosmo is to take what you need to know, or want to know, and apply it in a realistic way. Just like you interpret certain figurative things in the Bible, you can sort of do that with Cosmo. Taking certain suggestions on ways to 'instantly seduce your man' doesn't mean do every single thing on that list. Instead, it opens my mind to realize that every guy is different and each finds different things sexy, not just what the media says we should feel is sexy. I know this comparison is a little bit of a stretch, but I still hold that Cosmo empowers women (through sexual prowess), and when I read it I feel like less of a harlot, because I wouldn't do half the things suggested (just like I wouldn't do half the things in the Bible, like take out my own eye for doing something wrong). Cosmo is like my own little 'sex talk' every month, and through it I can avoid those awkward conversations with my super-conservative mother who (even though she doesn't mean too) makes me feel like a slut when I ask out-there, serious questions about sex. I would go on about how great Cosmo is but I have a date with the relationship style quiz, and the beach.
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