Dear Boys, 90% Curious


[dropcap]T[/dropcap]here’s an old adage that we all know.  Curiosity killed the cat.  But men would be well served to ignore this advice when it comes to dating.  Because in fact.  Curiosity slays the pussy.  Seriously.  Fucking slays it.  And the thing that frustrates me most.  Is that this seems pretty simple.  I mean like square-block-goes-into-square-hole simple.  Like basic-social-protocol simple.  Like how-the-fuck-do-these-boys-function-in-everyday-life kind of simple.  And yet somehow they do.  They’re out there.  Working.  And boring me to tears.

I recently asked my followers on Twitter, how or where people felt they had learned the art of conversation.  And the 2 responses I got (clearly 930 followers means absolutely nothing) said essentially the same thing.  They learned it by mimesis.  Basically they saw other people doing it well and copied it.  Which seems about right when you consider that this is exactly how babies learn to speak.  And yet there are boys.  Tons and tons of boys (I have the stats to prove it).  Who don’t understand how a conversation works.  Online or offline.  It makes no difference.  And I just don’t fucking get it.

Are they lazy?  Retarded?  Misinformed?  Lazy?  Uninformed?  Just being dicks?  Self-saboteurs?  Lazy?  Are they the children left behind?  Repetition should be showing I think it’s mostly laziness.  Because I just can’t believe that people can be so fucking idiotic.  So glaringly clueless.  What do you mean people don’t all follow social protocol like I follow social protocol?  Fucking hippies.  But seriously.  Why?  How? Why? Why don’t they know?  Seriously.

But until I can figure out which parents dropped the motherfucking ball.  And which cracks of what school system these boys all fell through.  Or why so many damn legs are open to such inane retardation in this fair city of mine…that is thus training these boys to develop Pavlovian-induced idiocy.  I will simply offer up some advice.  Some simple fucking guidelines for all the boys of online dating.

Dear Boys,

The art of conversation is mandatory.  It is part of social protocol.  It is too ridiculously easy to be fucking up.  Get your shit together.  Step your fucking game up.  And  I assure you it is mind-numbingly simple.  There are only two simple rules to remember.

1.  Ebb and Flow
2.  Be 90% Curious.

Ebb and Flow.  It’s like a dance.  Or the tide.  Or even simpler and in your wheelhouse.  Imagine it is sex.  In and out.  It doesn’t get any easier.  In.  Out.  In.  Out.  She asks a question.  You (answer and) ask a question.  She (answers and) asks a question.  You (answer and) ask a question.  In.  Out.  Ebb.  Flow.  She steps.  You step.  She steps.  You step.  Everybody gets laid.  Or something like that.  And before your head explodes thinking of new questions.  It doesn’t always have to be new.  Sometimes you can just ask it right back.  She says tell me about your job.  You tell her.  And then say.  Tell me about your job.  Fucking child’s play.

90% Curious.  For the love of dating!  This should NOT be a shocker.  But here’s one thing that might be.  You can fake it.  It doesn’t matter if you’re faking.  At first.  See the thing is.  I don’t always give a shit what your favorite movie is.  Honestly I’m probably too nervous to even remember it by the end of our date.  And your favorite song.  The last place you traveled.  Reasons your brother took the job he did.  Why your friend’s call you Jimbo when your name is Frank.  Sure I care in a roundabout way.  I’m getting to know you.  But the details aren’t always what’s important.  It’s that I’m curious.  That I’m asking.  Because that’s fucking social protocol.  Dates wouldn’t go anywhere if no one ever asked a question.  So whether you’re actually curious about the details or just the overall sharing process.  You have to act it.  You have to be 90% curious.  Because nothing drops panties faster than a boy who is interested in (or feigns interest in) hearing about my schoolwork.  Or my writing.  Or my softball team.  Or the reason I wear a lot of aqua colored things.

So the next time I stop responding to your messages on POF.  The first thing you should look at.  Is whether you were all Ebb.  And no Flow.  Because you might be blowing it.  And it’s the same offline too.  If I look awkward and uncomfortable.  If I ever find myself being forced to say So…is there anything else you want to know about me?  You’re ebbing out of control.  You ebbing bastard!  You have to have the flow my friend.  You have to have the flow.

Yours Truly,
Judgey Wudgey
aka Something She Dated
aka Your favorite cat in the hat
aka Miss Social Protocol 2011
aka The Flow to your Ebb
aka Helping you get laid (and not labelled retarded) one question at a time
aka Dating Vancouver a better place one “something” at a time

Vancouver Dating Blog: Dating Vancouver a Better Place, One “Something” at a Time

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Victoria Young

Writer. Dater. Masturbator. Stop ruining my jokes by believing the self-deprecation. I am far greater than your boner will ever know.