by Tim Allen
Trust me, it's an abyss.
But don't take too long. Women hate to be kept waiting.
- -
Before you understand women other than your mom or sisters-and remember, to other guys they're women, too-you've got to meet them. If you're a guy on the go, the women you want to meet are usually the ones you want to date. Okay, have sex with. These are the hardest women to understand, and they don't try to make it any easier, even though they want to meet and understand you-well maybe not you, bonehead-as badly as you want to meet and understand them. Wouldn't it be great if you could just be honest with a woman you find attractive and say, "Hi. I'm Bob. You're very attractive. Want to go home and rut like weasels?"
Unfortunately, this approach hasn't worked in the general population since the late sixties. Also, your name has to be Bob.
You've got to look for a woman who wants to meet you. But how will you know? The way to tell is to study your courting cues. These all‑important signals are the only way you can ascertain if the woman you're slavering at wants you to come over and talk, or if she wants you to douse yourself with lighter fluid and strike a match. While she sips on chablis.
The first sign is usually eye contact. Make sure, however, that she isn't looking at the guy behind you. Make sure you're not looking at the guy behind you. Other signals are the hair toss, the lip lick, the earlobe pull, and the hand on your leg. If a strange but attractive woman suddenly starts undressing in front of you while licking her lips, tossing her hair, pulling her earlobe, and touching your leg, it's a pretty safe bet she's interested in you, or working her way through school.
These are not female courting cues: when she's sucking on her own elbow, scratching anyplace, or adjusting her underpants.
I learned almost everything I know about women by being friends with them. When I was younger, I also got their moms to like me, which didn't work out so well since none of the moms really turned me on. I also took feminist courses. I'd always stick up for a woman's point of view.
My wife once invited me, quite by accident, to hang out with her and her girlfriends one night when they all went out and got crazy. I guess I just looked forlorn at the prospect of another night of beer and TV sports. She said, "Tim, why don't you go with us?"
About four hours into dinner, the girls got comfortable with me around. They dropped their "he's a man" shield and realized I was just another person. Just like them, only with chest hair. I was actually interested in what they were saying. I wasn't trying to dominate the conversation like a man. I was also outnumbered-so I was very quiet. I said things like, "God, that's horrible," and "I understand how you feel," and "He's a putz. Dump him." I crossed my legs and kept my skirt tight around my knees. "Really? Interesting. I can't believe it. Well, why would he say that?" Once I started doing that honestly, they accepted me. I was part of the girls' group. I was giggling. When they went to the bathroom, I wanted to go with them.
Of course, the big question is did any of this (before marriage) help me "get some"?
Nope. Even though it's ultimately the best basis for a relationship, if you're willing to be a friend, it's always tough to convert the situation into something more romantic later.
"I don't want to ruin our friendship," a woman will say, meaning either she has never really found you attractive or that you never ignored her enough for her to build up such an intense insecurity over wondering why that she had to fall in love with you to find out. Along with "You're just like a brother to me," and "Gee, that's terribly misshapen," the friendship excuse is among the most painful sentences a man can hear.
You can respond: "We'll always be friends. Trust me." Then dive in for a kiss anyway. But she knows better. Once you're cast as a friend, women have many ways of making a guy feel like slime for even considering defiling that chaste closeness for a little sex. After all, compared to true and lasting friendship, what is sex?
It's what you're after, stupid.
Looking back at some of the women I was simply close friends with, I realize that those relationships probably brought out the best in me. I could be myself. I got in touch. with my sensitive nature. I experienced sympathetic bloating. I also wish I'd taken a shot at changing things. I can't help it. I'm a guy.
Women really like it when you're a man, though. It's tough to have a woman go for you if you don't show some generalized masculine traits. Assertiveness, decision‑making, protectiveness, nurturing. A man has to give a woman the impression that he might stand up for her and take care of her. "Might" is the operative word. Women are very big on the idea of hope. I actually stood in front of my wife during a bar fight once. I responded so quickly that I didn't even think about it first. Believe me. The surprise result was that I made her feel secure and important, which in turn made her want me. And her wanting me made me feel important and secure. It also made me want me. That's where it got a little confusing.
And now you're expecting me to tell you what women want? Haven't you been listening? I don't have the first clue.
Some women will try to adopt traits they think a guy will like. They'll learn to talk about football and cars, the best beef jerky, and patio barbecues. This works, because if she's persistent enough (and cute enough), the guys will accept her-which is good. Then they'll forget about her because she blends in so well-not so good. If a woman is really good at being a guy, then chances are they won't even notice her because real life is rarely like in the movies when the tomboy takes off her grease‑stained mechanic's jumpsuit, lets down her hair, puts on a minidress and some provocative underwear from the Victoria's Secret catalog, and stuns the leader of the pack into settling down with her so that they can crush beer cans against their foreheads together until death do they part.
The guys will call girls like that Charlie or Sam or Mike.
I should have known that it was time for a new approach when the girls started calling me Tammy.
There is an upside, however, to being a gal pal. You can learn some of their secrets. As stupid as they may sound at the time, they hold the key to, well. . something.
Here's a good one: Women are just looking for a guy who will be nice to them.
Wow! There's some information.
The thing is it's true. Knowledge like this can help lower a man's handicap. And we need all the edge we can get.
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While we're trying so hard to understand women, it would help if they exerted a little effort on our behalf. This might come in handy when they need our undivided attention-which seems to be most of the time.
Women. Grab your pencils. This one's for you.
To get a man's attention, just stand in front of the TV and don't move. He'll talk to you. I promise. Once you're past the initial "What the hell are you doing?" or the more subtle "You make a better door than a window," he'll start to break down.
"C'mon, honey. Really, honey. Honey!" A real man will just sit there and wait for you to step aside. If you don't, eventually, he'll say, "What? All right, what? I'm sitting here, okay? Okay, I'm listening!"
You will no doubt increase your odds if you're showing some leg, and you'd better know the guy pretty well before you do this. Otherwise there are questions to answer first, like "Who the hell are you and how did you get into my house?" In this case, it's possible a handgun could come into play.
Another way to get his attention is to fool around with his stereo equipment. Or mess around with his car. Adjusting the timing chain is a good one. If he has a tool pegboard, remove one particular tool and hide it somewhere special. And believe me, within a day he'll notice that it's gone and come right to you. Do be prepared, though. He will be cranky.
More attention getters: scratch the paint on his car, throw out his favorite old sweatshirt, or punch him in the stomach when he's not looking. His expression alone will be priceless.
And when you finally get him to look you in the eye, you might even be able to get the guy to talk about his feelings.
"Honey,
I'd feel really great if you'd move out of the way. I can't see the television."
- -
Innocent flirting is a way of expressing desire without actually doing anything about it. As such, it is one of our most genteel sports, not to mention low in fat and easily digestible. I know this because when I was young I was a pretty accomplished flirt. I figured that flirting was about as far as I was going to get, anyway, since I had such a horrible complexion. Even if you're ugly, you can be a good flirt. And flirting is safe because it is impossible to pin down. It's noncommittal. No one can ever be positively sure it's taking place.
"I don't know. I think she was flirting. Yeah, that was definitely flirting. I mean, I think it was."
One thing to remember: There's a big difference between flirting and actually hitting on someone. Flirting is like dancing around the subject. Hitting is like stepping on its toes. In other words, you're hitting on a woman until she flirts back. Flirting has to go two ways. A woman has to realize what you're doing and give you the raised eyebrow and welcoming smile. To have successfully flirted means you haven't annoyed anybody.
One of my most memorable flirting experiences happened at a party. It was beautiful. She had on a headset from one of those kids' toys like My First Sony. I had one on, too. (No, I'm not explaining why.) I'd known her for a long time and, frankly, we'd never acted as if we'd found the other remotely attractive. But within the privacy of the headset, it was suddenly fun to toy with the untapped energy between us. Besides, she started it. She was doing a little dance an inch from my fingertips. And then she started saying very provocative stuff into the microphone, for my ears only. "Oh, I think you're cute." "That's a great shirt." "I wonder what you'd look like naked?"
Bingo!
If I'd gone, "Meet me outside and I'll show you," I'd have crossed the line. Instead, I suggested we could make out behind the heavy living‑room drapes. No, no! Great flirtmeister that I am, I was embarrassed. But I loved it. I'd had the thrill without the consequences.
It was like Chinese food, but without MSG.
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If he opposite of being bold is being in love but saying nothing at all. This is not to be confused with being too cool for your own good.
Silence has its complications. When I was in college, all I did was daydream about women. I fell in love from a distance more times than I can remember. It's easy. Plus you can attach all sorts of personal qualities to the woman without ever being disappointed.
"She's got a brilliant future in high finance. She'll get a second degree in entertainment law. She says I'll never have to work. She's beautiful even in the morning. And she longs to obey my every command forever." Sounds like my kinda gal.
Then one day you bump into her at the cafeteria and she has a voice like that Cola-Nut guy, and the energy of Steven Wright. Kind of ruins everything.
It seemed at that point in my life everything I did was to get a woman's affection. I wanted to have more money so women would like me. I wanted to look better, so women would like me. I wanted a Labrador retriever because I knew one woman who liked Labradors. I took a class because I saw a beautiful coed sign up for it. I'm not a stalker, but I understand what it's like not to have time for myself because fm so focused on a loved one-even though she's never heard of me. Okay, it's nothing like the mindset of a stalker, only the strategy.
I fell so hard for one woman in college that I decided to follow her home. Just to, uh. . make sure what dorm she was in. All that year I watched her. I wandered by her building, just hoping to catch one look. I knew her class schedule. I knew where she worked. The whole time I followed her my body was filled with a wonderful anxiety. But it wasn't enough. I was also trying to figure out a way to casually meet her, which meant that eventually I would have to step in front of her and say hello.
The alternative was to be caught in her closet at night wearing a penguin suit, and to try to convince her that I was really one of her stuffed animals, and would she take me to bed because I had been in the closet a long, long time, and I was very lonely. That's always a hard one to sell, and, regardless of the outcome, you're still out the cash for the penguin suit.
As I look back, it was probably a good thing I always chickened out because I'd kept my obsession bottled up for so long that I would have blurted out everything I'd been thinking for a year, things a casual stranger shouldn't know.
"I love your car, your house, and, by the way, where did you get those crystal doves on your dressing table?"
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Eventually you find a woman you want to date. Now comes the hard part. What's the proper attitude to take?
If what you're after is a woman's undivided attention, give her none. You can wait out any woman. Don't make any moves. Don't show your hand.
On the other hand, you can give a woman too much.
I once tried just laying my cards on the table. I went to a club, saw a woman, and walked right up and told her what I wanted. I'd been reading The Hite Report and was eager to test out all I'd learned. She was speechless, and I figured I'd blown my chance. But then she said, to my total surprise, "No one's ever come on to me like that. Let's go to my place."
We made love. We made love again. We ate Mexican‑style TV dinners. We slept fitfully. Two nights later she took me to her parents' house for dinner. I should have seen the signs. Because of my audacious approach the poor woman thought I was hopelessly in love with her and ready to pop the question. I was scared to death. Her father was really, really big.
The only question I wanted to pop was "Is there a back door?"
- -
When a guy thinks he's going to get lucky, euphoria sets in. Then he wants to stay at the party, get drunk with his buddies, and see who else falls prey to his immeasurable charm.
Unfortunately, being so self‑centered and greedy often causes
a guy to miss his opportunities. His intended gets drunk, too, and instead of going when the going is good, he waits too long and then her mood takes a turn.
This is more commonly known as a woman changing her mind.
How a woman changes her mind is very difficult to understand. All I know is that it happens at the speed of light, without warning, and that unlike men-who wouldn't have the nerve to try this unsupervised-women have an absolute right to change their minds. A man must respect it, no matter how swollen his glands have become.
"But, Sherry, baby, you said this is what you wanted."
"Well, that's not what I want now. That's what I wanted a little bit ago, but it's not what I want now."
It's all timing with a woman.
"But we already made an agreement. I'm already in lovemaking mode. I can't stop now. And you're obviously excited and. ."
"No, I'm going home."
"You can't go home."
And now you're begging, which is so very attractive. Once you beg you've lost her respect, and you'll never get any. Once you're begging you're in puppy‑dog mode, and the last thing you will get is the bone. That's why it's good if a girl has roommates. Better odds.
Some guys think they're getting lucky when a woman tells him she wants them to sleep together. Usually, when a woman is this straightforward, a distressing surprise is just around the corner.
"When I said I wanted us to sleep together, I meant really sleep."
Another sentence from hell.
I tried "just sleeping" with a woman once, but it didn't work. We did not sleep. She slept. I was awake. Staring at the ceiling. Counting the holes in the acoustic tile. After some heavy making out and what I thought was an ironclad agreement to have sex, I couldn't stop wondering what she suddenly meant by, "I think our friendship is worth too much for this."
This used to happen to me all the time. But I only said it to one woman, who, believe it or not, is still a friend of mine. We wanted to fool around, but I realized that the question wasn't whether or not I wanted to sleep with her, but whether or not I wanted to wake up with her. I know this because she a
sked me the question. Women. . what can I tell you? Difficult as it was, I told her the truth. Seeing her in the morning would have been uncomfortable. And I'd have had to kill her. Fingerprints, murder weapon, details, planning, decisions. Just not worth it.
- -
Women are always asking men, "How do I look in this?"
Any answer will be the wrong answer, especially no answer. Silence is truly deadly. When you hear the question, it's already too late to run away. The guillotine has dropped, and your head is already in the basket.
I have a question: Do women really think men can say something they'll want to hear? Or is this question analogous to boys' pulling legs off spiders? That said, try to say something nice. Deep down, women will appreciate that you're at least paying attention.
Visual tip: Before answering, tilt your head slightly to one side, take a deep breath in through your nose, and as you let it out, let a sigh slowly transform into a warm smile. The results are amazing, and often overshadow any words you might mumble. Be sure to first practice this in the mirror. Avoid the classic quizzical dog‑head tilt at all costs.
I once watched a relationship end because the guy didn't understand this. His girlfriend came out of the bedroom wearing an incredible red cashmere sweater. Her hair was magnificent. She was so lovely I almost fell down. They say women dress for themselves, but clearly she was trying to impress him. But this guy just looked at her and said, "You got any beer?"
The look on her face. Her spirits just plummeted. She didn't even ask how she looked.
"You look really great," I said, stepping up to the plate. Sensitive man that I am, I had spotted the problem immediately and wanted to cheer her up. My reward was a gorgeous smile, half a lip lick, and eyes that looked at me in a new way. Later, when she'd finally dumped her putz boyfriend, she asked me straight out if I wanted to sleep with her.
I declined. I wasn't going to fall for that routine.
Besides, do you realize how many holes are in an eleven‑by‑twelve acoustic‑tile ceiling? Three million two hundred thousand six hundred and twenty‑eight.