I typed all this up for a kid on Yahoo! Answers, but it ended up being too long.
Question
the way to learn the way to get the gals to like me more?
Ive been dating this young lady for a few weeks, nevertheless I do think her appeal is fading for me. So how do I become the woman's to be able to such as me more
Answer
well that all really depends on what you're doing. You need to provide more background information, but I'll give you a few basics:
- Women like men with confidence. If you're acting insecure she'll think of you more as a puppy than a potential breadwinner. Exude your confidence by trying new things, making jokes and just having faith in yourself.
Confidence also shows though in appearance. Don't slouch, squirm or constantly make nervous gestures like drumming your fingers, biting your nails, running your hands through your hair or bouncing your leg. She might end up seeing your nervous signals and think you're either A, a drug addict, B, ADHD, or C, completely not interested in her.
You have to look comfortable in your body language AND your clothes. Don't wear pants that are too tight even if they look nicer; you're going to be fidgeting and she's going to think its because of her. Don't button your shirt to the top button or wear an awkwardly tied necktie unless that's your usual thing. She's going to be able to tell those things. Try to wear something somewhat stylish that you're still at home in. Stay completely away from clothes that are shunned in public. Even if you're talking about how you have 18 million in a hedge fund and own a yacht she's only going to be concentrating on the fact that you're wearing suspenders.
- Women like men with a sense of humor. Make jokes, but not creepy jokes. Don't make literary puns unless you have prior knowledge that she would understand or appreciate those things. Don't use pickup lines like "I wish I could be your derivative so I could be tangent to your curves" even if she WOULD get it. Don't tell dirty limericks on the first (or second, or third) date.
- Women don't like to feel intimidated. Be witty and intelligent, but don't spend all day looking things up just so you can toss around some scientific or political knowledge. You want to make her feel like she's your intellectual equal, not inferior.
- Find the things you have in common, and use these to your advantage. So you both like quirky silent films? Find a theater in the historic district that shows a film you might both enjoy. Do you both like aquatic sports? Animals? Collect the same or similar things? Are you both bibliophiles? Devout Catholics? Anything. We each have so many interests that it almost impossible to find someone that doesn't have anything in common with us. You're allowed your individuality of course, but you have to have an open to grow some kind of bond, and shared interest is perfect.
- Don't lie to her, at all. Even white lies will come back and bite you in the ass, so don't do it. I'm sure telling her that you ALSO ran the New York Marathon will impress her at first, but two days later when she asks you to fill a position on her relay team she's going to know you lied, and she's going to be pissed.
- don't spend all day talking about your ex. Unless she's a priest, she isn't interested in hearing your full life's confession. If you feel it needs to be brought up, especially if you have some common ground (you were both left recently for someone more attractive, for example) then go for it, but don't turn a potential good time into a tear-fest. She probably has plenty of her own drama and doesn't need yours too.
- Don't be creepy. There are a lot of things a new guy can do to creep out a woman. Don't tell her you like lurking in dark alleys or that you've had murderous thoughts. Don't give her the details your scariest nightmares. Don't tell her her hair smells nice, or she has cute feet. If you have a fetish, she probably doesn't want to know right away. I understand you'll be looking for similar interests in a partner, but even someone who might entertain the idea later on will be put off by you saying "I really like to wear diapers."
- Try not to look like a loser. If she asks, "Where do you live?" and you respond "In my mom's basement," you're going to look like a complete loser, no matter WHAT the circumstances. Talk about the circumstances FIRST. "I wasn't happy at work so I decided to go back to school. I'm in a master's program, so for the time being I moved back in with my folks." Oh, okay, fantastic. Now you look smart, sensible, career-driven and potentially wealthy in the future instead of just being a loner spending his nights in his mom's basement downloading naked pictures of Megan Fox.
Also, don't snort when you laugh.
- Don't spend all day pretending to be interesting; focus your time in being interested in HER. Not just her boobs, I mean her personality. If after the first three dates you're still iffy about her personality she's probably not right for you. Focus on things you like: the way she tells a story, the way she jokes around. Consider exploring some of her interests. Is she a certified scuba diver? Awesome, try that out with her sometime, as long as you're not afraid of the ocean. Again, don't lie to try to impress her with your openness to new ideas. If you're afraid of the ocean, or heights, like I said before she's going to figure that out pretty quickly.
- Try to read her cues. Most girls are not going to want to get busy on the first few dates, but you might come across one who does. Assume that you're going to be at bat and nothing else. Maybe first base while you're on her porch thanking her for the evening. Let her make the decisions, but don't wait for them to be completely obvious. If she wants you to round second base she isn't going to just grab your hand and place it on her breast. Women aren't that literal. If her breast touches your arm briefly while she's reaching for the popcorn at a movie, don't assume that's a come-on; women aren't that subtle. Wait for some middle ground like prolonged contact, frequent eye contact or gazing, smiles or biting her lip when you meet her gaze. All that usually means sexual tension.
- Don't take a new date too seriously. A lot of guys don't, but if you don't date much you might have problems with this. If this is your second date, don't refer to her as "your girlfriend." Don't talk about her to your friends so much that if you run into someone she's never met they instantly know who she is and recognizes her. If you're going out casually, dress casually. Don't lavish gifts on her right away for no reason. If you bring a $50 bouquet of roses or a diamond necklace for your second date she's probably going to be more weirded out than impressed. Don't be overexcited just because you're with a girl; she'll catch onto that. Wait until the point where she can be sure that your happiness and gifts are because you think she is special, not just because she's the first woman to talk to you in two years.
Lastly, remember you can't make a girl like you. You can follow all these steps perfectly and she might still climb out of the bathroom window halfway through dinner. Sometimes no matter what you do or say things just aren't going to work out, and its tough at first but eventually you'll find someone perfect for you.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Chatter in the Hood
“So did you hear about the Tillmans?”
“oh my, yes. How completely dreadful.”
“I can’t imagine going through that.”
“Heaven help that you don’t have to, dear.”
A pause while they sipped their tea.
“’Course, anyone could see that coming a mile away.”
“These things do happen, as unfortunate as it is.”
“Especially with THOSE kids of people.”
“Do you suppose he took marijuana?”
“Oh GOD yeah, and probably more.”
“No! In this neighborhood?!”
A nod.
“My.”
She pursed her lips and shook her head slowly.
Another pause. More sips.
“I always believed there was something…peculiar about them.”
“Oh yeah.”
“Do you remember that girl of theirs? The boy’s older sister?”
“What about her?”
“I’d hardly seen such a child!”
A snort of laughter.
“I know it may be rude of me but its true! I bought cookies from her Girl Scout troop because I felt sorry for her. Always going about with her mouth open…”
A full laugh this time.
“Oh she did not!”
“She did! The poor child went about plodding around like a sow, mouth gaping to the elements or insects or what have you! It’s a wonder she never caught cold.”
Sipping again.
“Whatever happened to that child?”
“I dunno, I know she had a boyfriend that she met at that college but I haven’t seen her come home since Christmas two years back.”
“We’ll likely see her now.”
“Probably, yeah.”
“I wonder if she still keeps her mouth open all the time?”
A chuckle. The sound of dainty porcelain cups tinkling against dainty saucers.
“Have a biscuit dear.”
“Thanks, I think I will.”
“I plan to bring them a casserole this evening.”
“Have you heard where the funeral is?”
“Not yet, but likely at West Lake Mortuary. Honorable, yet modest.”
“Open casket or closed?”
“Heavens, I hope it will be closed! You know what they say about that, how the tongue protrudes and such.”
A tsk of distaste. A frown.
“I just can’t imagine..”
“ Perfectly dreadful.”
“He was always a strange boy. Dark. But still..”
“A terrible thing.”
“Yes.”
“More tea, dear?”
“Yes please, thanks.”
“oh my, yes. How completely dreadful.”
“I can’t imagine going through that.”
“Heaven help that you don’t have to, dear.”
A pause while they sipped their tea.
“’Course, anyone could see that coming a mile away.”
“These things do happen, as unfortunate as it is.”
“Especially with THOSE kids of people.”
“Do you suppose he took marijuana?”
“Oh GOD yeah, and probably more.”
“No! In this neighborhood?!”
A nod.
“My.”
She pursed her lips and shook her head slowly.
Another pause. More sips.
“I always believed there was something…peculiar about them.”
“Oh yeah.”
“Do you remember that girl of theirs? The boy’s older sister?”
“What about her?”
“I’d hardly seen such a child!”
A snort of laughter.
“I know it may be rude of me but its true! I bought cookies from her Girl Scout troop because I felt sorry for her. Always going about with her mouth open…”
A full laugh this time.
“Oh she did not!”
“She did! The poor child went about plodding around like a sow, mouth gaping to the elements or insects or what have you! It’s a wonder she never caught cold.”
Sipping again.
“Whatever happened to that child?”
“I dunno, I know she had a boyfriend that she met at that college but I haven’t seen her come home since Christmas two years back.”
“We’ll likely see her now.”
“Probably, yeah.”
“I wonder if she still keeps her mouth open all the time?”
A chuckle. The sound of dainty porcelain cups tinkling against dainty saucers.
“Have a biscuit dear.”
“Thanks, I think I will.”
“I plan to bring them a casserole this evening.”
“Have you heard where the funeral is?”
“Not yet, but likely at West Lake Mortuary. Honorable, yet modest.”
“Open casket or closed?”
“Heavens, I hope it will be closed! You know what they say about that, how the tongue protrudes and such.”
A tsk of distaste. A frown.
“I just can’t imagine..”
“ Perfectly dreadful.”
“He was always a strange boy. Dark. But still..”
“A terrible thing.”
“Yes.”
“More tea, dear?”
“Yes please, thanks.”
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
March 5, 2001 part II
The shooter's name was Andy. He was an unnattractive, scrawny kid who had lived in the area for less than a year. His mother and brother lived in Maryland and he had minimal contact with them. His father neglected him. They lived in a studio apartment in a run-down complex near Santee School. He had trouble adjusting to Santee. The only friends he made were like him; poor, not the best upbringing. They skateboarded and smoked weed. He was picked on at school.
The papers had a field day with Andy's story. They made him a case example of what abuse, by family or peers, leads to. But that isn't all of it.
Santana's social strata wasn't what you see in movies. It wasn't a pyramid with the attractive jocks on the top and the runny-nosed, buck-toothed band geeks on the bottom. We still had some separation, because people get along best with like-minded people – but for the most part we all had some social equality. We didn't have gang wars by peer group or graduation year. You'd never see a guy from the football team trash can a freshman, unless it was his little brother. There was no teasing, no picking on specific targets except by people you knew. The few times I was picked on at Santana were by kids I had gone to Cajon Park with, when picking on me through elementary and junior high school was in style. No strangers, different social level or not, ever gave me any trouble. Nor anyone else I saw.
The kids who picked on Andy were his “friends.” He stood there and took it, and the worst thing you can do to a bully is ignore it and pretend like its nothing. Bullies have two goals in mind: to rattle you and to get away with it. He let them get away with it, and rattling him had become a challenge. He showed up to their group, hung out with them day in and day out voluntarily. He obediently took the teasing, which just led to more. I know these kids that picked on him, and I know he wasn't the only target. They were all targets to each other. Everyone picked on everyone else, trying to one-up each other. Maybe Andy didn't realize that because he was new. Maybe he did, and didn't know how to retaliate. Maybe he did retaliate, which is why he was accepted in the group, but no one cared to mention that when the reporters came calling.
Andy had “fallen in with the wrong crowd.” His friends were depicted by the media as being hoodlums, the worst of the worst, but in reality they were a bunch of teenage losers capable of little else than shoplifting liquor from Albertsons. They hung out at Woodglen Vista park behind the bathrooms, taking bong hits and passing a stolen bottle of vodka. They wrote on the picnic tables with sharpies. They didn't start fires or steal little old ladies' purses. They didn't get in knife fights or turf wars. These weren't hardened criminals that he was associating with, these were just unsupervised teenagers doing the things that unsupervised teenagers do. None of them to my knowledge have gotten in any serious trouble in the time since.
The news reported that someone had stolen his skateboard the week before, three times. Andy and his dad were poor. Neither could afford to replace a skateboard at all, let alone three times in one week. Obviously, he got the same one back. So here's a scenario for you: some kids hanging out behind the bathrooms at the park, sharing a joint. Too blazed to realize they'd left some of their stuff laying around for a considerable amount of time. Someone sees a skateboard, recognizes it as Andy's. They take it and ride it, or just hide it. He finds out, laughter ensues, eventually the thief returns it or says where its hiding. This happens three times.
Big deal.
Andy's best friend Josh Stevens was quoted in Time Magazine, saying "Listen to In the End, track eight on Linkin Park's CD. That was the song that inspired Andy." I just wanted to be like, are you shitting me?
Trying to hold on, I didn’t even know
I wasted it all just to
watch you go
I kept everything inside and even though I tried
it all fell apart
What it meant to me will eventually be a memory of a time
I tried so hard
And got so far
But in the end
It doesn't even matter
Like most songs from Linkin Park's first three albums (four, if you count the compilation with Jay-Z) this song is about a breakup. This is where you got your hardcore inspiration? This explains how you were picked on and everyone hated you? This is why you decided to become a murderer?
After ABC Today and Time Magazine pushed the Linkin Park issue (clearly people who had never listened to Linkin Park), frontman Chester Bennington replied with "You might as well say, 'it's because he ate mayonnaise that day.' "
Andy also used the chorus for In the End in a note to his father explaining why he did it. Which didn't really explain anything at all.
Andy had been talking about “pulling a Colombine” for weeks. A couple guys who heard said, “yeah right, I dare you.” At least two adults knew, maybe more. One, the aunt of a friend, overheard some of Andy and Josh Stevens' detailed plans. She waited two days to asked Josh if it was serious. He told her it was fake, and that he was going to have his mom's boyfriend talk to Andy. She figured this would be good enough. 29 year old Chris Reynolds, Josh Stevens' mother's live-in boyfriend, was more of a buddy than a responsible adult. He hung out with the boys, skateboarded, took them paintballing and was disliked by most of the residents of their complex, Woodglen Vista Apartments. Two days before the shooting he overheard much of the conversation between Andy and a group of boys, heard Andy and Josh say they were going to steal a car and go to Mexico afterwords. Someone replied, “you're a pussy, you won't do it.” Reynolds asked Andy if it was true. He said no, and Reynolds felt that was good enough.
Monday morning Andy met up with friends, got stoned and then headed to school. A few of his friends were apparently concerned enough to actually pat him down, checking for a gun. One looked in his backpack but didn't move the books to see his father's handgun resting beneath it. Satisfied, Andy's friends let him pass. He went in the bathroom. No one thought to tell a teacher, a counselor, a principal. No one called the cops. The shooting started less than fifteen minutes later, when Andy shot Bryan Zuckor in the head after he entered the bathroom.
Andy had a dysfunctional upbringing. He didn't live in the best area and he wasn't the most popular kid in the school. Neither was I, and I've never killed anyone. I even listened to Linkin Park at the time, too. Yet somehow we're supposed to believe that this combination of a divorce, an unhappy family life and feeling like you don't fit in with your high school is clear grounds for murder. Of the 1700 students at Santana, more than half of us were the products of broken or mixed marriages. Only one of us brought a gun to school.
When the police broke into the bathroom and Andy handed over his gun, reloaded and cocked, he said “its only me.” And it was. At some point Josh had dropped out of the plan – or maybe he was never really in it. Maybe, to him, it was just talk, just a way to work out frustrations. He and the other people involved were all on the news afterwords, starting in the Albertsons parking lot a few short hours after the shooting. Reporters couldn't get enough of Chris Reynolds at first, and many of the boys freely did interviews before someone realized they were incriminating themselves. Eventually Stevens and Reynolds hired lawyers, just in case, and all of the boys that had been associated with Andy's grand plan were transferred to different schools in the district. Only Andy went into custody and was tried as an adult. He is serving a life sentence without the possibility of parole for 50 years in a state penitentiary. Some people disagree with this decision. There has been a small movement since his conviction to get the decision overturned based on his age and mental status at the time of the shooting. Taking away all hopes and ambitions from a 15 year old boy seems excessive to these people, who ignore the fact that he did exactly that for a 14 year old and a 17 year old. He murdered two people, injured 15 and permanently scarred the rest of us. Fifty years sounds fine to me.
Related:
A website is run by friends and family (people that seemed to have only shown support for him after the shooting) and has been up for some years; http://andyspeaks.com .
The Time Magazine article discussing Linkin Park and other events leading up to it:
http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,1101010319-102077,00.html
Photo montage made by another student:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vurdZm79r08
The papers had a field day with Andy's story. They made him a case example of what abuse, by family or peers, leads to. But that isn't all of it.
Santana's social strata wasn't what you see in movies. It wasn't a pyramid with the attractive jocks on the top and the runny-nosed, buck-toothed band geeks on the bottom. We still had some separation, because people get along best with like-minded people – but for the most part we all had some social equality. We didn't have gang wars by peer group or graduation year. You'd never see a guy from the football team trash can a freshman, unless it was his little brother. There was no teasing, no picking on specific targets except by people you knew. The few times I was picked on at Santana were by kids I had gone to Cajon Park with, when picking on me through elementary and junior high school was in style. No strangers, different social level or not, ever gave me any trouble. Nor anyone else I saw.
The kids who picked on Andy were his “friends.” He stood there and took it, and the worst thing you can do to a bully is ignore it and pretend like its nothing. Bullies have two goals in mind: to rattle you and to get away with it. He let them get away with it, and rattling him had become a challenge. He showed up to their group, hung out with them day in and day out voluntarily. He obediently took the teasing, which just led to more. I know these kids that picked on him, and I know he wasn't the only target. They were all targets to each other. Everyone picked on everyone else, trying to one-up each other. Maybe Andy didn't realize that because he was new. Maybe he did, and didn't know how to retaliate. Maybe he did retaliate, which is why he was accepted in the group, but no one cared to mention that when the reporters came calling.
Andy had “fallen in with the wrong crowd.” His friends were depicted by the media as being hoodlums, the worst of the worst, but in reality they were a bunch of teenage losers capable of little else than shoplifting liquor from Albertsons. They hung out at Woodglen Vista park behind the bathrooms, taking bong hits and passing a stolen bottle of vodka. They wrote on the picnic tables with sharpies. They didn't start fires or steal little old ladies' purses. They didn't get in knife fights or turf wars. These weren't hardened criminals that he was associating with, these were just unsupervised teenagers doing the things that unsupervised teenagers do. None of them to my knowledge have gotten in any serious trouble in the time since.
The news reported that someone had stolen his skateboard the week before, three times. Andy and his dad were poor. Neither could afford to replace a skateboard at all, let alone three times in one week. Obviously, he got the same one back. So here's a scenario for you: some kids hanging out behind the bathrooms at the park, sharing a joint. Too blazed to realize they'd left some of their stuff laying around for a considerable amount of time. Someone sees a skateboard, recognizes it as Andy's. They take it and ride it, or just hide it. He finds out, laughter ensues, eventually the thief returns it or says where its hiding. This happens three times.
Big deal.
Andy's best friend Josh Stevens was quoted in Time Magazine, saying "Listen to In the End, track eight on Linkin Park's CD. That was the song that inspired Andy." I just wanted to be like, are you shitting me?
Trying to hold on, I didn’t even know
I wasted it all just to
watch you go
I kept everything inside and even though I tried
it all fell apart
What it meant to me will eventually be a memory of a time
I tried so hard
And got so far
But in the end
It doesn't even matter
Like most songs from Linkin Park's first three albums (four, if you count the compilation with Jay-Z) this song is about a breakup. This is where you got your hardcore inspiration? This explains how you were picked on and everyone hated you? This is why you decided to become a murderer?
After ABC Today and Time Magazine pushed the Linkin Park issue (clearly people who had never listened to Linkin Park), frontman Chester Bennington replied with "You might as well say, 'it's because he ate mayonnaise that day.' "
Andy also used the chorus for In the End in a note to his father explaining why he did it. Which didn't really explain anything at all.
Andy had been talking about “pulling a Colombine” for weeks. A couple guys who heard said, “yeah right, I dare you.” At least two adults knew, maybe more. One, the aunt of a friend, overheard some of Andy and Josh Stevens' detailed plans. She waited two days to asked Josh if it was serious. He told her it was fake, and that he was going to have his mom's boyfriend talk to Andy. She figured this would be good enough. 29 year old Chris Reynolds, Josh Stevens' mother's live-in boyfriend, was more of a buddy than a responsible adult. He hung out with the boys, skateboarded, took them paintballing and was disliked by most of the residents of their complex, Woodglen Vista Apartments. Two days before the shooting he overheard much of the conversation between Andy and a group of boys, heard Andy and Josh say they were going to steal a car and go to Mexico afterwords. Someone replied, “you're a pussy, you won't do it.” Reynolds asked Andy if it was true. He said no, and Reynolds felt that was good enough.
Monday morning Andy met up with friends, got stoned and then headed to school. A few of his friends were apparently concerned enough to actually pat him down, checking for a gun. One looked in his backpack but didn't move the books to see his father's handgun resting beneath it. Satisfied, Andy's friends let him pass. He went in the bathroom. No one thought to tell a teacher, a counselor, a principal. No one called the cops. The shooting started less than fifteen minutes later, when Andy shot Bryan Zuckor in the head after he entered the bathroom.
Andy had a dysfunctional upbringing. He didn't live in the best area and he wasn't the most popular kid in the school. Neither was I, and I've never killed anyone. I even listened to Linkin Park at the time, too. Yet somehow we're supposed to believe that this combination of a divorce, an unhappy family life and feeling like you don't fit in with your high school is clear grounds for murder. Of the 1700 students at Santana, more than half of us were the products of broken or mixed marriages. Only one of us brought a gun to school.
When the police broke into the bathroom and Andy handed over his gun, reloaded and cocked, he said “its only me.” And it was. At some point Josh had dropped out of the plan – or maybe he was never really in it. Maybe, to him, it was just talk, just a way to work out frustrations. He and the other people involved were all on the news afterwords, starting in the Albertsons parking lot a few short hours after the shooting. Reporters couldn't get enough of Chris Reynolds at first, and many of the boys freely did interviews before someone realized they were incriminating themselves. Eventually Stevens and Reynolds hired lawyers, just in case, and all of the boys that had been associated with Andy's grand plan were transferred to different schools in the district. Only Andy went into custody and was tried as an adult. He is serving a life sentence without the possibility of parole for 50 years in a state penitentiary. Some people disagree with this decision. There has been a small movement since his conviction to get the decision overturned based on his age and mental status at the time of the shooting. Taking away all hopes and ambitions from a 15 year old boy seems excessive to these people, who ignore the fact that he did exactly that for a 14 year old and a 17 year old. He murdered two people, injured 15 and permanently scarred the rest of us. Fifty years sounds fine to me.
Related:
A website is run by friends and family (people that seemed to have only shown support for him after the shooting) and has been up for some years; http://andyspeaks.com .
The Time Magazine article discussing Linkin Park and other events leading up to it:
http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,1101010319-102077,00.html
Photo montage made by another student:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vurdZm79r08
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