So it’s been a few months, and I’ve met quite a few gentlemen of interest whilst accepting my Facebook relationship status is now single. And in a lot of ways they fit my criteria. Smart, physically attractive, witty, well-to-do, you catch my drift. Exchange of numbers, then the game begins.
You see, everything up until the digit dance is practice for the real sport: the waiting game. You know, the wait two days to make contact, have a cutesy conversation, then pause again until someone decides to reconnect. Grrrr, the texting tango drives me crazy!!!!
I have a condition that I thought was reasonable. All I ask is that you call or text when you’re thinking about me. That’s it. I won’t consider it “thirsty” if you opt to break the stupid 48 hour rule. Who the hell said that rule was a good idea in the first place?
Break the rules. Be an anti-conformist. It’s really sexy to me (Note: unless you’re the gentleman that jumped my car battery and then asked me to take you home to my house, just to somehow be offended when I drove away laughing. No sir, have a seat in a muddy ditch with that foolishness. And calling a woman every 10-20 minutes for 2 hours is not hot, it’s creepy.)
But alas, sometimes your pride will keep you from being great, and the game plays on.
I thought graduating from high school and subsequently college would change things. Ha! Shame on me. The only things that have changed are age and taste palates.
Other rules that I’ve observed thus far that haven’t changed since I was an adolescent singling:
– Being an open book is a big hell no
Nope. Don’t you dare show your bare face. Beat your personality’s face to the heavens. Foundation of serious yet light sense of humor, mascara of sexiness, blush of coyness, lipstick of lust.
This is going to be the hardest rule for me to implement if I decide to do so. I am ridiculously goofy. I don’t know how to not crack jokes or bust stupid dope moves in aisles of ShopRite. And there’s no off button. Ever. I am in a perpetual state of Turn Up.
And I am honest. Told a guy he smelled like laundry detergent. Met him five minutes prior. I can’t help it. I mean, I can, but I don’t see how it’s fair that I sacrifice who I am to land a man. Me or Him? Why the dichotomy?
-If you contact him before the 48 hours, you clearly want to have sex with him
Kidding, but this is what I was told runs through the mind of the male species. Seriously? Super stupid. Do I think you’re cute? Yes. Enough to drop my panties? No. Hell no. Please find your seat in row 1 of the muddy ditch. Thanks.
Guys, is that where the first 48 came from? Don’t want your intentions to be too apparent? “Say what you mean, mean what you say” could totally come into play, but that’s exactly how I get into trouble. Telling people they smell like Tide I guess is an insult, but I think it’s divine. *sigh* moving on…
-Give him your number
“Let a man be a man. He wants you, let him start the dialogue.” Again, this was some -ish I used to do in high school. But if we’re chatting and flirting, what does it matter who takes what first? Are ladies so afraid of losing ground? It’s the first quarter, a little ground may help you win in the fourth! And if he doesn’t reply until Jesus comes, then perhaps he isn’t worth the time.
I have a lot of catching up to do, and have no idea where to begin. But one thing is for sure, I have been having a lot of fun relearning old tips while incorporating new tricks. Stay tuned for more Single Peacock Female chronicles.
If you have any pearls you’d like to introduce, do so in the comments!!!!
Be Extraordinary- Alyssa Peacock