Wednesday, March 17, 2010

Non-verbal Communication

As a straight man, it is my duty not to listen.

When a girl opens her mouth and starts to have an intellectual conversation with me, all I hear is, "Yak yakitty yak yak yak. Blah blah blah blah. Blah blah!"

God, Xenu, whoever, gave men two ears, so that our mothers would not kick us in the 'nads to beat us up when we're young.

This is why some gay men look more organised than straight men. The secret to their power is that they listen more.

I tried listening to women, but the influx of information was just too great.

Imagine this. I meet a girl with long hair, right? So, I go up to her or she comes up to me, and in my mind, I think about how she would take a dump with that long hair. Does she curl it around her neck, tie it up in a bun, what?

Then, there's make-up. Make-up is a deluge of information. Layers of concealers under the eyes. Thick foundation. Focus on the lips - gloss, matte, whatever. Fake eyelashes? Real ones?

Is she trying to make her lips look smaller, eyes bigger? Is she trying to construct the entire bridge of her nose with makeup? Does her cleavage have accentuations from blushers and whatever?

Were her armpits plucked, waxed, tweezed or shaved? Or does it resemble a tumbleweed like Monique in Precious?

If humans shave their armpits, there is the possibility of ingrown hair. That happens when skin cells grow above the roots after shaving (shaving strips off a thin layer of skin). With a layer of skin over the follicles, when it grows, there would be a period when it would grow UNDER the skin. So, the armpit, or the face looks greenish.

I also look at women's moustaches. Was it threaded? Shaved? Or dyed? I met a particularly ghastly specimen of female facial hair, dyed blonde. Oh well. To each his own.

Then, there's the clothing. My old history teacher used to have only one type of dress with five different colours. A dress with big buttons down the front. Neon green, Big Bird yellow, neon orange, floral patterns and light blue. She disliked the light blue the least. On Friday, it's ususally whatever was cleaned in time.

Do women wear fuck-me-heels? Sensible pumps? Gladiator sandals? Wedges? Mary-Janes?

Is she wearing a push-up bra? Is there padding? If so, then what kind of padding? Sponge? Silicone? Tissue paper?

Does the bra require wireframe support?

And many, many, many more.

So, with all this information flying my way, you expect me to listen to what you're saying?

"Yak yakitty yak yak yak. Blah blah blah blah. Bla-BLAH!"

To be fair, women also judge men by their appearance and how they carry themselves.

I just don't give a shit, and wear what's clean. Mostly. I cut my hair when I have to. Often at the cheapest places that offer a scalp massage. I find Setiawangsa and Cheras to be good places.

I wear sneakers everywhere, cause if I have to run from zombies, sneakers are a good choice. Plus, I can't squat with proper black shoes. What if I had to take a dump by the roadside? I'm not taking my shoes off. The zombies might get me.

The image that I portray is usually - I don't give a shit.

Cause they don't give a shit in Thailand. All they care about is money. And at the end of the day, most women are looking for money. If you're wearing a RM1 million watch, chances are, she'd fuck you.

Hell, if I can find a pawnshop that would give me 10% of the watch's value, I'd fuck you too.