Things I’ve Said to Men

I am a fan of a blog called Thought Catalog. Dimples turned me into a reader a few months ago after we’d discussed how much and why Washington, DC has grown on me.  Thought Catalog publishes frequently and the autobiographical pieces are damned funny even if every post isn’t well written. But it made me question whether I should keep on with Public Beetle. I concluded that I should continue. Two different visions, two different blogs.

But that is not why I am sitting on my awesome ball chair tonight, writing instead of watching the finale of New Girl. I am writing because Dimples sent me a chipper morning email featuring this post titled “Insane Things I’ve Said To Women.”  The writer frames his post as follows:

I don’t have a terrific grasp of how most people interact, especially when ladypeople are involved… Here are some of the most ridiculous things I have sincerely said to women both platonically and romantically in an attempt at being friendly.

This first sentence completely applies to me, just substitute “gentlemanpeople” for “ladypeople.” Suddenly a flood of horrifying and ridiculous things I have sincerely said to men – some who I wanted to bone, some who were in the friend zone – came to mind.  But that was while I was working. Now I am at home and can contextualize these poetic compliments.

You have a great jaw line.

Dude in front of me on metro escalator wears your same Old Spice scent. Now I miss you. Damn it!

I dig your shoes. I love a square toe in cognac.

You haven’t made an off color comment in weeks. Did you get snatched by the pod people?

What is your panty-melter? I mean, if you wore panties.

I love your beard. You look like Zach Galifianakis.

Forget that skinny bitch. You’re the bee’s knees.

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You have a great jaw line.
This should not come as a shock to anyone. Though there are many physical types I find attractive (I would venture to say about ten), I have a well documented weakness for red heads, knees/calves, strong facial bone structure, laugh, gait. My friends could offer citations of this exact compliment delivered to gentlemanpeople dating back to 2002.

Dude in front of me on metro escalator wears your same Old Spice scent. Now I miss you. Damn it!
I recently (March) delivered this compliment via text message to a very good friend of mine. He always smells good. You know who you are.

I dig your shoes. I love a square toe in cognac.
Who the hell says this to a straight dude who they are maybe probably interested in? This girl. Me. I do. And while I realize no one wants their toe in cognac, cognac colored leather is in fact gorgeous. Be it wallet, belt, shoe or Gosling, it is always true.  Just as eyes are the window to the soul, shoes the soul to an ensemble.  That may be a bit strong. Let me try again. Shoes are to an ensemble as a keystone is to an arch. Yes. That works. So if I tell you I dig your shoes I am basically saying: You’re an amazing human being, I love your style and I want to see you naked.

You haven’t made an off color comment in weeks. Did you get snatched by the pod people?
I said this in a text message as a joking passive-aggressive joking opener to a friend I hadn’t heard from in a while. It proved an effective means to catch up on life stuff until things to a turn to Raunchy Land and I realized I had made a terrible mistake.

What is your panty-melter? I mean if you wore panties.
In my defense I was with a group of friends I know well and we were having a grand old time until shit got real and people started talking about their feelings. My gentleman friend in the group had been sulky all night and was checking out of the conversation so I decided to get on my sassy horse. I asked this question with the intention of lightening the mood with crassness, jolting the conversation in a new direction, and conveying empathy and telepathy for his dissatisfaction for the topic on the table. It backfired. Hard. I haven’t felt that awkward since I was in middle school. Maybe because I used a line that middle schoolers would use. Note to self: You cannot pull off anything in the “bro” lexicon.

I love your beard. You look like Zach Galifianakis.
I swear on the Red Hot Chili Peppers that this is a sincere compliment. I love [well kept] beards, redheads, and funny men. I love Zach Galifianakis. He rates in my top 5 dream men. Maybe in my top 3. No matter how hard I try to explain the depths of giddy he makes me feel, telling a gentleman that he resembles a rotund man who often uses his body as a prop is going to insult.

Forget that skinny bitch. You’re the bee’s knees.
This is a ridiculous thing to say because men rarely refer to women as “skinny bitch.” That is strictly a woman-to-woman insult. It also isn’t particularly effective because insulting a woman on behalf of a man in the style of a woman is not comforting. And bee’s knees must be on a list somewhere of “least effective ego boosters for men of all time.” Telling a someone they are the bee’s knees* is totally femme. Just take a moment to say the sentence aloud…. Are you talking to a man or a woman? You’re talking to a woman.

*Footnote: I used the phrase “bees knees” when describing someone/something to a guy I was dating and he found it completely endearing. I think it was a turning point in our courtship.**

**Footnote: I stopped dating the guy three months later on account of being smothered. So women, watch how much femme you throw around when saying things to men.

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