There is a cardinal rule for getting what you want out of a significant other. I haven’t learned it yet, but I know it exists. As I sit around wondering how many weeds I have to pull to keep my love garden from desolation, I often wonder what the difference between ‘tweaking’ your partner to enhance your desires and trying to ‘change’ them is. What I do know is the wrong approach will always end in someone losing a ration of shit and the other person… blogging about it.
I have to give credit to the world wide web for offering me up a ‘meat platter’ of men to choose from. If it’s roast beef I’m feeling like, it’s roast beef I can put my request in for. Essentially online dating has become my ever-so-choosey “Build-A-Babe”. The problem with this is that life has a funny way of making sure nothing is perfect. Murphy and all of his laws like to hit you where it hurts, straight in the vagina. If it seems too good to be true, it’s because you’re about to find out that “Captain Flawless” hasn’t brushed his teeth since the first generation IPhone release.
So, I was on a date the other day. Despite his “aspiring artist” credentials and lack of transportation, he was a real winner in my book. I loved his artwork, it covered him head to toe. It was late, and I could cut the sexual tension with his boner. He was fascinated with my milky white skin and before Buffalo Bill could fashion a woman suit out of my epidermis I asked him why he wouldn’t stop staring at my body.
“I think you’d look better with tattoos.” he said.
“Well, I think you’d look better with an extra comma in your salary.” I replied.
This is what my kids will read about under the “World War III” category in their history books. Two grown adults just stabbing the fuck out of each other with superficial wants and needs; a god damn blood bath of epic proportions. Maybe it was the way we said it: the “you’d look better” implying that we weren’t satisfied with the quality of people we were standing in front of. Whatever it was, I know I felt like a washed up waste of canvas and he probably immediately created an etsy account for his artwork to subsidize his income.
It was in that moment that I realized verbalizing my desires without offending the people who don’t naturally obtain them would be harder than anticipated. I find the Adam Levine’s of the world to be far more attractive than the Chris Hemsworth’s. Why? Because I don’t like blondes. Would I ever tell fucking THOR that he should dye his hair and learn guitar? No. Why? Because I’m not a fucking moron. There are things you say to your partner…like “we should join a co-ed softball team to get some more exercise together” and there are things you don’t say to a partner…like “I liked you more when you counted calories”.
I find subtle hints and subliminal messaging to be the most effective way to say what you want without offending what they have. Avoid using statements like “you should” “you’d look better with” “I liked this before” and shoot for more proactive tips like “I’m going to leave you if you don’t…”. Men like to feel like things are their ideas, which is why I’ve learned the art of subliminal messaging. If you want a man to brush his teeth. Just don’t fucking brush yours. How’s that for a subliminal message? Let the whole lot of them rot out of your skull, and see what his sniffer has to say about it. If he confronts you, game on to confront him. You just don’t want to be the instigator. Those types of significant other’s never get any Christmas presents.
That last paragraph was probably incredibly unhelpful. And to be honest, I’m still trying to figure out how to build-my-babe. In the mean time, I find that just appreciating people for who they are and not giving a shit about the trivial things like hair color, yearly income, or how many tattoos they have are the easiest way to true happiness.