How I look when I wake up after a night out.
You think you know, but you don’t. Why do you think I have those makeup wipes and concealer stashed in every going-out bag I own? I sleep hard, gentlemen. My hair will be everywhere, my breath will not be minty-fresh, and there will be five o-clock shadow in places that you usually see smooth as a baby’s ass.
While we are talking about sleeping habits, I might as well mention that I drool like it’s my job.
I call it hydrating my pillow. Upside? No lube needed for morning sex.
I enjoy a good poop.
Yes, gents. All women poop. Sometimes (most times) at least twice a day. It even happens while we are hanging out. In your toilet. While you are sitting in the next room. Deal with it. If I hear one more of you “jokingly” say that women don’t poop, I am going to make it my personal mission to shit in your toilet and leave it for you to find. Side note: please have the decency to put hand soap in your man-cave of a bathroom. Some of us like to wash our hands after wiping. Also, do you ever wash YOUR hands after wiping?
What I tell my bestie about you. Which, to be clear, is everything.
Really you should be flattered. It’s the ones I don’t talk about that should be worried. Unless of course I am telling the story because it is so deliciously awful that it had to be shared. In that case, well done for at least being memorable.
I have a potty mouth that could make a sailor cringe.
If you stick around long enough you will undoubtedly hear it when I stub my toe or realize I forgot to pay a parking ticket that was due yesterday and the fine just doubled. I at least tone it down in front of children.
How loud I talk on the phone when nobody I know is around.
You think our finger-banging session was intimate? So does the little old lady that overheard the whole story while I was in line at Ralph’s. No shame.
The ridiculous things that I do to “look good” before a date.
How long did it take me to get ready? I’m not telling you. You wouldn’t believe me. What’s worse is that you probably wouldn’t notice if I skipped more than half of those steps. It’s fine. Eventually my date-prep routine will dwindle to putting on yoga pants and deodorant. Until that time, just enjoy the end result.
How quickly I think about the future.
Listen, I am terrified of commitment and I’m okay with that. In spite of this fact, on the second date I always find myself thinking about whether or not I like your last name or if our children would be ugly. It doesn’t mean I want to actually marry you or carry your spawn. It’s just something that crosses my mind. I’m convinced it’s an instinctual cave-woman thing.
How much I have learned about you thanks to Facebook.
I’m telling you, this social media shit makes stalking all too easy. How did anyone get the deets on ex-girlfriends before the Internet? Also, EVERY woman does this. I don’t care how much she adamantly tells you she doesn’t care about your past women. She knows where your ex eats pizza every Thursday and what cute little café she goes to on the weekends. Thanks, Instagram!
What I do while we are involved in a texting conversation.
There are screen shots sent to multiple girlfriends in order to help me craft a response, there’s nail biting, backspacing, and then waiting. I know I have previously written about how men should text women on this site, but the truth is I have no clue how to text men sometimes! You guys are fucking confusing. But whatever, I know you guys analyze them just as much as we do.