MSN could have saved some servers space had they just written one article entitled “You will never get what you need from the opposite sex so you might as well buy a masterbatory aid and call it a night” but then there’s only half as much space for ads, so they broke it up into his and her ‘perfect ____friend’ companion articles.
Lucky us.
From the man, a 5-clause contract designed to spell out exactly what makes the ‘perfect girlfriend.’ She’s not a pushy bitch, so obviously the ‘perfect boyfriend‘ article is written as a wishlist, not a demand-filled legally binding contract.
And yet, according to Maxim’s Jon Wilde (*snort*), I’m supposed to find something about this ’startling.’
Why rely on a legal document to fix the end of a relationship when I can use one to create the ideal relationship? So here it is; my contract for the perfect girlfriend. Laugh at it if you will, ladies, but you are about to get some startling insights onto the male mind.
Turns out the male mind wants exactly what beer commercials tell him he wants, which is great for the ladies because it means you don’t even have to finish Intro to Psych in order to have that be-penised status symbol all figured out. This will free up your time to focus on making yourself sexy enough that, should he accidentally glance at you, he won’t leave you.
Clause 1: Dates
[...]
B. The Man will not be expected to plan every date. He will be chivalrous, but he will not be the cruise director of the relationship.C. If The Lady would like to attend an event that she knows The Man will despise, she is advised to do so with other people…However, should she deem a night at the ballet, opera, or foreign movie house to be a necessity within the scope of the relationship, she should make plans [herself]
Tit for tat – for every ballet you force him to attend, he gets one sporting event. This keeps the yin and yang forces of the universe in check and prevents Earth from spiraling into the sun. For those of you saying, “But he’s the one always dragging us to see subtitled films at the independent movie house, and I love pig roasts,” maybe you should get back into the stereotypes in which you belong. Your deviance makes baby Jesus cry.
Clause 2: Dialogue
[...]
B. If The Lady wants something or wants to know something, she will ask. There will be no hints or guessing games.
Yeah, yeah, yeah. My own boyfriend is not into playing head games either, but I find that when directly asked for something, he is like my parent’s dog: well meaning and responsive as long as you are looking directly at him, but kind of absent minded and thoughtless when left to his own devices. But when I’m in an inexplicable funk that he can’t tie to any specific reason, he leaps into action and suddenly no task is too trivial if it will make me happy again. But please, no mind games, because we are so not the kind of couple that does that.
Clause 5: Love
A. Should the two parties remain together long enough to reach Relationship Level: Serious, The Man understands that he will, at some point, be called upon to vocally express his appreciation of The Lady in the strongest method possible. When the time comes, the following rules shall govern the use of Those Three Words Which Shall Not Yet Be Spoken.
Ladies, if you really want a guy to say “I love you,” just wait. They’ll crack. I promise. If you have to, start seeing someone else on the side. Perhaps someone who didn’t make you sign an assinine behavioral contract?
So the perfect girlfriend has been defined by super stud as one that basically knows she’s not going to get a lot of touchy-feely shit. This is unfortunate, as apparantly the perfect boyfriend is defined as the type of guy who is not afraid to do a lot of touchy-feely shit.
The perfect boyfriend…
[...]
…shows us affection in tender ways (Frequency: minimum 4x a week)
Whoa, whoa…what does he get out of it? Your appreciation? Eff that.
…comes out with our friends and plays the role of token adorable guy…For most women, our friends are our family and a big part of our lives, so we want our boyfriend to fit right in and make a great impression while he does it. What’s the fun of having the perfect guy if no one in the room goes home just a teeny bit jealous?
Lucky for you, Jon’s airtight contract only gives him the leverage to extort a trip to a strip club or something equally crappy in exchange for regular dog and pony shows.
…thinks it’s adorable when we’re our all-alone-selves in front of him. (Frequency: Always). It’s rare to find a man who finds it charming that you wear decade-old T-shirts to bed, can eat a whole Domino’s pizza by yourself, and spend Saturdays watching Laguna Beach marathons.
Laguna Beach? Freak.
Do I just have a shockingly unrealistic sample set of ex-es, because I have not once encountered a guy who gave a flying fuck about what I wore to bed. Almost all have considered lacy shit to be frivolous, and my #1 bedwear-related comment is “why are you wearing anything at all?”
It’s possible that Amy Spencer, driven batty with lonliness, is dating a cardboard cut-out of Jude Law and uses Cosmo advice articles as the basis for their fantasy conversations. Then maybe this list makes sense. But it doesn’t give her the right to unleash this pathology on the rest of us.
At any rate, it’s clear that we are diverging into different species with different needs and habits. We can try to fight it and lead miserable lives shackled to someone with whom we have nothing in common, or we can say fuck it, give up entirely and start burning our subscriptions of Maxim and Cosmo for warmth. Because baby, you’re the only one who really loves me.
It’s worse than that. Had they done that, they’d never need to write another article for their partnership with match.com again, and second-rate freelance writers would have one less market for their work.
So the perfect girlfriend is one who doesn’t expect you to pretend you like her, and the perfect boyfriend is one who actually likes you. Doesn’t that pretty much summarize everything every relationship advice column has ever tried to tell us?
Laugh at it if you will, ladies, but you are about to get some startling insights onto the male mind.
You’re never going to find anyone any better than me, so you better just suck it the fuck up and get me a beer. Also, the reason I’m still single is that girls don’t know what I expect from them.
And why would the super stud want to take his girlfriend to sporting events anyway, since he clearly can’t stand being around her? So he can brag to his friends about how pussy-whipped he isn’t?
It’s rare to find a man who finds it charming that you wear decade-old T-shirts to bed
What asshole in his right mind gives a care what a person wears to bed? Is it a fashion show every night? “Hun, that T-Shirt was so 5 minutes ago!”
Hey, don’t knock cardboard cutouts of Jude Law…they are highly decorative, know when to shut up (always) and make no demands on your time and energy.
To be fair, for a while I was seeing a guy who was amused at my decidedly un-fancy (plain white cotton underpants FTW) choice of underwear, because I was by far the least feminine person he’d ever been with — but when I teased him back about it, he said it’d probably weird him out if I showed up in frilly silk underpants just because it’d be so far out of character. Then again, he’s terribly fussy about his own underclothes. As fussy as the quasi-transvestite guy I saw for a while, in fact, although in a different way.
See, it never even occurred to me that I’d want to wear fancy underwear — I tie-dye ‘em when I can, so that I can identify them in the student laundromat, but worrying about the precise variety never even occurred to me as an option until I encountered others who did. This leads me to the observation that one rarely or never finds out about the underpantular preferences of anyone besides those with whom one has physically intimate relationships. Therefore, I have no way of determining whether strong preferences in unmentionables are more common than I’d ever supposed, or if I just date weird people.
Anyone have opinions on this question?
“C. If The Lady would like to attend an event that she knows The Man will despise, she is advised to do so with other people…However, should she deem a night at the ballet, opera, or foreign movie house to be a necessity within the scope of the relationship, she should make plans [herself]”
Some people are so stupid.
In other news, the earth is round.
though i’ve to appreciate your stamina, how come you’re reading msn anyway? and then this very sort of thing? are there REALLY people doing this sh*te?
but enough of troubling questions, now let’s go n buy expensive new undies or something else advertised there or here, you will feel so much better afterwards, and if you don’t believe me, reckon you can take jon’s word for it, too.
Dammit. I *knew* it was the t-shirts…
The John Douchebag Manifesto
Dear mindless person with tits: You do not know me. But I am on the lookout for you. You are my prey. And I have an erection that needs satisfying. I am John Douchebag.
I am in your clubs dancing like a prick. I am riding in my Mustang. I am in your strip clubs. I am masturbating to you on Drunk College Chicks dot com. I am your neighbor. I am your customer. I am your classmate. I am your boss, checking out that sweet ass as you walk by my office. I am John Douchebag.
I will never forget that you are a piece of meat here for only my amusement and pleasure.
I will never forget that I can treat you like trash and you will always come back for more, knowing I will protect you and give you shelter from all the bad in this world.
I will never forget the alertness of actor James Woods.
I will act like I care about you when you need me to. I will pretend to like your boring ‘art’ films which are fucking retarded. I will patronize you at all times. I am John Douchebag.
I will protest your old Bon Jovi t-shirt that you wear to bed, because it makes my penis not want to fuck you. I will petition against your constant need for me to tell you I “love” you, or “give a shit” about you. I will raise my voice against your constant whining when I come home at 3am smelling of Heinken and unprotected sex. I will challenge your attempts to better yourself through education and local community outreach. I will combat your violent propaganda on the Internet.
I am John Douchebag.
I will support legislation initiatives that keep intact white privilege.
I will oppose all attempts to undermine my rightful place in the patriarchy.
I will resist all attempts aimed at convincing me I am not a complete tool.
I am John Douchebag.
-jca weloveamericamorethananyone.com
And why would the super stud want to take his girlfriend to sporting events anyway, since he clearly can’t stand being around her? So he can brag to his friends about how pussy-whipped he isn’t?
No, silly, it’s so his friends can see the hot ass he’s tapping. But they’d best not look too closely, or he’ll kick their ass. Or he’ll think real hard about kicking their ass then call her a slut on the way home for strutting her ass in front of his friends. It’s in the stud handbook, didn’t you get yours in high school?
Therefore, I have no way of determining whether strong preferences in unmentionables are more common than I’d ever supposed, or if I just date weird people.
False dichotomy?
In other news, the earth is round.
More of MSN’s liberal lies. This is why I only watch Fox.
It’s in the stud handbook, didn’t you get yours in high school?
I think they’re real careful about not giving those to girls.
What asshole in his right mind gives a care what a person wears to bed?
As far as I know, the kind of guy who needs a woman to be dressed in Victoria’s Secret lingerie, a dominatrix outfit, or some such porn cliche to get an erection, since the sight of a normal human being doesn’t do it for him.
The girl’s article just keeps making me sad. All she wants is a boyfriend who likes her even though she’s not on the cover of Maxim. What kind of dumb, boring assholes has she been putting up with?
Who does this guy think he is? I mean is it just me or does he completely reek of the kind of asshole who never leaves the house without a Pez dispenser full of rufies. In fact my feelings for this Jon Wilde character can be summed up with one word, HATE. I hate Jon Wilde. I want to make a ceramic model of him and smash it with my softball bat. Actually scratch that, I want to smash the real thing! John Wilde you are the planets widest asshole. May all your days be filled with misery and misfortune.
Die,
Brenda
PS. Jon has an “H” in it, lizard.
I really liked Jon’s article. I thought it was clever and arousing. Look at all the people it has aroused! A baker’s dozen! If I was him i’d be writing all my friend’s emails so they can see how many he has aroused! So many!
perhaps – given the prevalence of such articles – the problem is in the question? Does it do us any good other than to feel better about how superior we are to knock the publication, author, etc. ? why not dig a little deeper (see, now I’m deeper than you)?
nice people
nice, angry, happy, REAL people.