Though I had a girlfriend for one month in the seventh grade, in general, I have endured female rejection until I recently hit my stride. This background makes me the most unlikely expert on women since Mickey Rooney, and the most unlikely representation of males aside from David Duchovny. However, I believe I have suffered in order to learn the secrets of the fairer sex. Women: here is why you rule the world, according to me.
You think you know what you want, but your feelings about men fluctuate like Ben Affleck's Boston accent. I communicate and behave based on my best guess: consolation when you're feeling down, dry humor when you're testing my wit, exclamation points and "haha's" when you're excited, short and sporadic messages when you find me overbearing and immediate replies when you're comfortable. Guessing makes me restless and anxious. You are terrible for my health.
I know that I want you, the girl who demonstrates a genuine attraction to me even after learning that I can only prepare boiled chicken and "gourmet oatmeal." I disguise my desire by playing the field and conveying a short-term endgame. I delay communication with you to pretend that I don't care. But you already know that I want you -- because you possess features that my Die Hard-viewing mates don't -- rendering my camouflage useless. This perceived power allows you to stay guarded and patient. When your interest in me seems fading or your communication declines, I ache.
I create goofy poems and picture stories for you, utilizing PowerPoint with comment blurbs, emoticons and childhood photos of Seth Green. I research where we should go out based on a formula that incorporates your location, your likely mood at the moment you receive my invitation and my azure Polo. You are terrible for my productivity.
I don't complain about most life struggles and am rarely affected by human issues that request my empathy, but your rejection slices deeper than any CyberKnife cancer radiation delivery system could. For your acceptance, I transform my physical appearance, attempt to hide my flaws and research what Girls is instead of watching basketball.
I mitigate the potential sting of rejection by searching for a replacement you. After rejection I say things like, "I don't even like Teen Mom," or, "affection is for pussies, anyway."
Now that I understand your rule over me, I can begin to acquiesce to my inevitable, continued suffering. In doing so, I also must realize that as much as you take, you provide. I need to remember not to hide myself from you because you are drawn to trauma. When you acknowledge me I feel whole, and when you accept me, time stops. And when I find the one who appreciates my Seth Green PowerPoint creation, Tiger Woods and Elin Nordegren will reunite in Phil Mickelson's hot tub.