The Way Boys Feel About Girls

French Girls

“Hey Man!” I yelled from across the hallway. He turned and looked at me. “What are you doing tonight?”  There was a social gathering I thought he might enjoy.

“Going to a party with some French girls.”

“Ohhh R L Y?”

“What?”

“Where at?”

“I don’t know, somewhere around Wrigleyville.”

“Ew.”

“I know, but French girls.”

“Oh yeah, love the French girls.”

“Yeah, gotta love the French girls.”

“Can’t get enough of the French girls.”

We stared at each other down the long hallway thinking of nothing but French girls.

“Well, bye!”

The Sex is Incredible

A woman’s talents in the bedroom can very closely be related to how crazy they are in their normal life. This may not apply to 100% of good lays, but what I’ve found is the crazier the girl reacts to what I meant when I said, “You seem like someone who wouldn’t like milk,” the more likely it will be that they will pleasantly tear my dick off.

This is a very specific crazy that I’m trying to explain.  It’s not the girl who dies her hair blue or talks in a fake British accent.  That’s not crazy, that’s just weird.  That’s just annoying. This type of crazy won’t appear until 3 months into a committed relationship.
“You look tired today.”
“Are you calling me ugly? Because that’s what tired people look like. You don’t love me anymore, do you?”
“…yes?  …or no..”
Pathological liars that conjure up completely imaginary jobs as nurses at retirement homes, not to avoid you, but just to make conversation. One day, they’ll accuse you of committing treason. When you ask, “How is that even possible?”  They politely, but ever so bitchedly, respond with, “You should know.”

You can’t understand why you’re still with these nutcrackers other than the fact that the sex is incredible. You’ll never have better sex. It’s because the dames are genuine. They moan and thrust with ease, they look into your eyes and grab your hair.  They pull you towards them and bite your lip, slowly pull your head back and kiss you ever so gently.  Their bi-polar tendencies of the real world transformed into unadulterated sexual fierceness, and you believe it.  You soak up every little drop of her mating dance until you can’t take anymore and explode wherever she demands it. You feel like a king.

Ladies and gentlemen, do not feel sorry for us men dating these crazy women.  We know perfectly well what we’re doing. These short-circuited, halfway to the mental institution girls will rock your world.  I highly recommend giving one a shot, at least for a few months. Just please, don’t come inside her.

What do you say to them? It seems as if it’s the hardest part about meeting a girl. Walking up and not looking like an asshole.

A girl sneezed several times. I waited, she seemed to be a multiple sneezer, but this is my chance, I can say something clever, interesting, and definitely sexy. I wait several seconds after the final sneeze. Have I waited too long, is she going to sneeze again?

“God Bless You.”

“Thank you.”

Dammit- God Bless you? I sounded like a fucking priest and I don’t even believe in God. Now she thinks I’m some religious freak, I probably look like an asshole now. I’ll just stay in my seat and occasionally, awkwardly glance up and stare at her.

What We’re Thinking

We’re not thinking about anything else. You sit two or three seats away from us on a train, the table behind us at a coffee shop, you’re talking on your cell phone outside the library, you’re in the aisle next to us at the grocery store.

We’re not thinking about ourselves, we’re not thinking about the weather. We’re pretending not to see you. We’re pretending we don’t care. We’re occasionally drifting our eyes passed you, hoping you’ll be doing the same. We’ll just keep doing it. Acting like we don’t care, not thinking about anything, pretending not to see you, occasionally trying to catch your glance.

We’re thinking you’re probably an artist or a dancer. We’re hoping you’re a gymnast or a yoga instructor. We’re looking at your calves and thinking you’re definitely a yoga instructor.

How great it will be to introduce you to our friends. “She’s a dancing artist yoga instructor,” we’ll say as our friends raise their eyebrows in full on sexual yearning. What it must be to ride this girl.

We’re not thinking of anything but how great of a story it would be if we met in the salad dressing aisle, both grabbing for the Thousand Island dressing. We’re not thinking about anything other than the glimmer of hope that you enjoy Thousand Island dressing as much as we do.

We’re glancing over at you, this is it, you’re turning your head, we connect and you smile at us…

Hmm… we didn’t realize you had such a snaggle tooth. Your eyes are just a little too close together and from this angle, your calves are actually kind of fat. You grab the Thousand Island dressing, but honestly, Thousand Island dressing is only in our top 5 favorite salad dressings. How many other people have it in their top 5? We much prefer Italian or even French. Thousand Island is so fattening and Lord knows you don’t need the extra calories. But a French girl, they have such attitude, so voluptuous, so sexual. Yes we’re thinking a French girl will do the trick.

We move on to the next aisle, to another train car, we walk inside the library and there she is. We’re not thinking of anything but her.

The trouble was she never tried to be beautiful. She had so much potential but wore dirty jeans and a t-shirt everyday. Pulled back hair and dark rimmed glasses everywhere she went. She wasn’t ugly, far from it. You knew once you got her out of those dirty grubs, her naked and curvaceous body would be other-worldly, a goddess with unpainted toenails. Maybe that’s what gave her such appeal, such wonder. But damn, I would have loved to see those legs in a short summer dress.