The number of ‘How To’ and self-help guides out there on landing a man could fill a small city library. One of the great ones (she said with a shit eating grin) was “The Rules”, a detailed road map of how to get any guy out there, guaranteed, IF you followed all the rules. Sounded simple enough, follow some simple rules, laid out in detail, couldn’t be any worse than the savory advice you get from your girlfriends at 1:15 in the morning, drunk at the bar after an unsuccessful night in the clubs of man hunting, again. Crying with her into your rum and coke (sorry, diet coke) in your great new shoes that are now on the bar stool next to you because they were killing your feet by 10 and that outfit that you were sure would at least get the back up guy to hit on you. So, you bought a copy of The Rules. There are 35 rules. Crap, 35! 35! I already have a problem with authority, and now this book wants me to follow 35 freaking rules? O.k., the first rule: Be a “creature unlike any other”. I think we have accomplished that, just read this book, women are fucking weird! I’m not going to list all of the rules, because, well, they are just insane, but some highlights. #7 is don’t accept a Saturday night date after a Wednesday. I guess this is to give the impression I’m not desperate and that if you haven’t ‘booked’ me by Wednesday, you’re out of luck, even if I have nothing planned except on orgy with Ben & Jerry. I also like #3 don’t stare at men or talk too much. Uh, oppressed much? Or #16, don’t tell him what to do & #18, don’t try to change him. Obviously these two rules were NOT written for women, this is in their genetic makeup, I think there was a National Geographic special on it, they found the bitch gene, it was telling all the other genes what to do and how they should have been doing it all along. The whole concept of the book is the archaic concept of landing “Mr. Right” for marriage and the writers even reference the early 1900’s as the origin for the material. The problem with The Rules, advice from your girlfriends, self-help books, gossip, Facebook, your sister, your mom or any other female for that matter, is that the guys are not in the loop – they have no clue about the rules. So while you don’t call him back because the rules tell you that you aren’t supposed to ever call him and only take his calls occasionally, he just thinks you don’t answer, gets someone else’s didgets, and you’re left at home with your cat, Ben & Jerry and a copy of The Rules on another Saturday night.
Girlfriends are just the worst. Why in the world would a friend ask you to come to a party, but then put a stipulation on that party: that you have to not only buy a dress, but a really ugly dress. A dress that you will never wear again, in a color that you would never wear in public, in a style that went out of style last year. Plus, you have to do shit before, during and after this party? If she is a really big bitch, she may ask you to loose weight, wear your hair in a certain way or color, nails, makeup, shoes, jewelry and the list keeps going. Yet, if we are not part of this coveted group of girls, we are sad and offended, even if we aren’t that good of friends! We all want to be bridesmaids, and the cu-de-ta – the maid of honor. The movie 27 Dresses captures the concept of the outlandish dresses and behavior perfectly. I have lived through my share of taffeta colors (pink, green, teal) and my girls wore red silk or something. It’s a thankless job, and you really are just a slave to the bride, because once it begins, it really is all about her and nothing else matters and no one else exists. The “Thank you”s and acknowledgments for the extra mile will go by the wayside, never to be heard or seen. You really could save the woman’s life, literally, and it would not phase the bride to be, it would be an expectation, like ‘what took you so long’. Then comes the best part. If you’re in that marrying age and you have other girlfriends that are getting married it’s about to get awkward! So, one person is in a wedding, but six months later does not ask that friend to be in her wedding. Oops, guess you’re not friends anymore! Either that, or, now you have 15 bridesmaids and you have tell your fiancé he needs to find more friends (looser) or ask his second cousin Marvin to step in. The next time someone asks me to be a bridesmaid, I’ll just buy them a bottle of champagne and one for me. I’ll come out ahead, without a headache and a decent buzz! Prost!