Another Reason I’ll Never Be A Lesbian

Women are crazy. Flat fucking nuts. Insecure, ridiculous fools with no ability whatsoever to control their compulsive impulses, particularly concerning men and the telephone.

My sister is a prime example of this idiocy. Yesterday she called me and told me that her recent ex-boyfriend had sent her a picture message on her cell-phone of himself sitting on his motorcycle. There was no accompanying text explaining his reason for sending the picture, which apparently launched her into a day-long fit of worrying and psycho-analyzing which ultimately made her at least moderately physically ill. He usually adds text, she whined. What does this mean? I tried to explain to her that despite the confusion following their break-up (which was heightened by the fact that she “raped” him several times in the past few weeks, which of course he, being a man, didn’t protest) the message probably meant nothing more than that he was thinking of her, at that particular moment, and decided to send her a picture. No big deal. It wasn’t a lewd picture, or a picture of him with another woman, or any sort of reaction-inducing image whatsoever. It was a picture of a man on a motorcycle and that’s it. But I called him twice to find out what it meant and he hasn’t returned either of my calls, she said. What’s there to get? The man was probably busy. Or he figured he’d call you tomorrow. Or perhaps–here’s a long shot–he was confused by your attempt to add meaning to something that was so obviously free of it.

I am no expert when it comes to dealing with the opposite sex–if I were, I would not be stuck in the pathetic world of the perpetually single. However, I have never driven a man away by being a clingy, obsessive freak, either. I am on speaking terms with all of my exes, if not close friends. When I was about thirteen, I read in a teen magazine that the quickest way to drive a guy away was to call him seventy-five times, and I paid attention. I remember it being difficult–because when you’ve flipped head over heels for someone, the uncertainty of not knowing if they feel the same way is almost debilitating–but over the years, it’s become less so. Perhaps I have simply managed to cultivate an aloofness that most women don’t ever attempt, but whatever the reason, at this point I have no difficulty at all in leaving the fucking phone alone. I’m a firm believer in the age-old dating axiom, If he wants to talk to you, he’ll call you.

After not receiving a callback regarding the supposedly cryptic message (I can’t find the cryptic no matter how many angles I examine the situation from), my sister had a few cocktails and called up her ex, demanding that he give her the keys to his vehicle, which is in her name, so she could retrieve her stuff from his apartment in Maine and “get out of his way.” He responded that he thought they were friends and were trying to work things out, and she wasn’t in his way. Somehow, she found this answer completely maddening, and interpreted his request that she maybe come over later as a “booty call.” Perhaps it was–but I’m tempted to think otherwise. Though he may foresee the potential to get some, I know for a fact that he could get it elsewhere if he wanted, and that if I were him, I wouldn’t prolong the madness with someone so maddening unless I really cared. I mean, REALLY.

My sister IS “How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days,” the movie–though, thankfully, I’ve heard no mention of a Love Fern. I just cannot fathom how to explain to her that she is shooting herself in the proverbial foot by behaving like an absolute crazy person, and that, having met the man she’s doing this about, he’s certainly not worth self-imposed physical illness.

I remember she once asked me how it was that I was friends with all of my exes. I didn’t have an answer. Now I do: I don’t stalk them.

What do I do? My sister asked me by text message–and I stifled my response. What I wanted to say was, “Go home, smoke a joint, throw your phone in the toilet and don’t get a new one for at least a week. Go to sleep and do NOT, under any circumstance, call him again.” What I said was, “I dunno.” What do you tell someone who is incapable of comprehending logic? Men and women are not from different planets, women just seem to let their own insecurity turn them into psychopaths, and I just don’t get it. It’s weird. Yet another reason I’m glad I’m into men.

~ by saltgirlspeaks on 4 June, 2007.

One Response to “Another Reason I’ll Never Be A Lesbian”

  1. While I am generally uncomfortable with gender stereotypes, I will agree with you on this one matter: women, by-and-large, are at times given to a laughable relationship-related craziness that men appear quite incapable of mimicking.
    Would I ever want to date me? Heaven’s no; I’m nuts.

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