Wednesday, 10 December 2014

Girly Advice??

The other day, a female friend asked me for relationship advice.

While I was flattered, I must say I did feel like a bit of a fraud.  It’s kind of like asking Jimmy Barnes for singing lessons or getting Pauline Hanson to recommend a good Asian restaurant. (Not the best of examples, but you guys know what I mean).

You see, in my 15 years or so of dating, I think I’ve learned only one definitive thing.  Seriously. If you want to maintain an active sex life, no matter how much your boyfriend, partner, husband, begs you, DO NOT buy them a playstation.  Come to thin k of it, rather than handing out condoms, if we’re serious about preventing teen pregnancy, we should be giving kids an Xbox and a copy of Grand Theft Auto.

But anyway, a friend in need is a friend indeed, and despite being no Dr Katie, I agreed to lend an ear.
It turns out the previous weekend, my friend had met a hot guy and given him her number; it was  now 5 days later and he still hadn’t called.

Like I said, I’m no sexpert; I don’t have a BA in BABES or a PhD in Pretty Hot Dudes, but I have watched a few episodes of Sex and the City. Trust me, guys, 5 days is a bloody long time.  Bloody hell, it’s an entire test match.  Unless, of course, you switch your phone to vibrate to keep you entertained.

My general rule is that waiting for a guy to call should be like waiting for a cheque to clear.  If it hasn’t happened in three working days, then it’s probably not going to happen.

I’m a girl, so I know that girls like to sit around in the bath waiting for guys to call, but let’s get serious: If he really likes you he could be sent to jail for a crime he did not commit, and he’d use that one phone call to ring you ‘just to say “hi”.

But sadly, in my experience, if a girl likes a guy enough, she’ll make excuses for why he hasn’t called that even the Australian Government wouldn’t buy.

‘Maybe he was trying to wash his pants, so we could go out for a romantic dinner, and he accidently put his phone through the wash and lost my number.’

Uh huh

‘Or maybe he was writing me a love song on the piano, and just as he was getting to the really romantic bit, the lid crashed down on his hand and broke his dialing finger.’

Uh huh, uh huh

Or maybe, just maybe, he was picking me some fresh flowers in a field when he was abducted by aliens … who then stole his mobile because they wanted to ‘call home’

Uh huh …. Just forget it!!

I’m sorry to break it to you, ladies, but if a guy likes you enough, no amount of soggy Nokia, broken fingers or aliens will stop him from finding you.

So the question has to be asked, why would this guy not call?  Well, the first thing to consider is that unless he is a champion Aussie leg spinner, most Aussie blokes aren’t that comfortable on the phone.

Remember that 20 second time limit on lifeline calls on ‘Who Wants To Be A Millionaire’?  Most men would be happy if that applied to all phone calls.

I couldn’t have loved my dad more, but our average phone chats consisted of this exchange. “Hi dad, it’s Katie. How are you?”  “Good thanks love, how are you?” “Good thanks dad” “Good … I’ll get your mother.’

The second, and more likely reason is that he wasn’t that interested; but when it comes to being honest with women, most men are cowards.

I’m sure he’s not proud of it, but I think there could well be a couple of girls my brother dated in high school who he’s technically still going out with because he didn’t have the guts to break up with them.  If you’re out there and reading this, girls, I’ll apologise for him, and ….. well, happy anniversary.

In fact, if you want to understand the male psyche, then you need to go no further than the classic male break-up line “It’s not you …. It’s me”.

My brother let me in on a little secret which I’ll share with you, ladies …. If a bloke drops the “not you, me” bomb, it actually means one of three things.

It is you, because you frown at him spending more time with his mates at the pub getting plastered, preferring to sit on the sofa watching chick flicks for hours on end.

It’s not you … nor him either. It’s that new office receptionist, Murial, or Candy or whoever.  The one who always wears the mini mini skirts and the long black leather boots.

Or finally, it’s not you, it’s him. In particular, his desire to get home as quickly as possible so he can finish the next level on his Playstation.