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Posts Tagged ‘Sense of humour’

First of all, let it be known, I can be pretty stupid sometimes.

I mean I can’t spell to save my life (in fact I have spell-check to thank for my degree) and just yesterday I had to ask my mum if Capers were those little fish things (turns out I meant sardines). So perhaps I am being slightly liberal by putting myself in the ‘Brains’ category, but for the sake of my argument, lets just go with it.

Now I’ve done my research. And most guys want both: Brains and Beauty. I don’t blame them, hell I agree with them. But let’s be honest sometimes the world’s just not that kind.

When forced to make a choice, general consensus was (insert manly voice here) “brains every time because we love a girl who can carry a conversation”. I can almost hear the world-wide sigh of relief while mascara wands are being put down the nation over. So being able to carry a conversation is sexy now? 1 point to me.

Of course that’s all very well in theory. And I know the female population isn’t exactly divided into two categories ‘hot’ or ‘not’. One man’s Angelina Jolie may be another’s Susan Boyle (sorry Susan). But the fact of the matter is I’ve never heard of a model or an actress incapable of finding herself a boyfriend. But a doctor, a nurse, a female comedian? Different matter altogether.

Sometimes we like to flatter ourselves and say that men can’t handle strong opinionated women. But then I remember my mum’s married, and they don’t come much more opinionated than her. So that definitely can’t be the problem.

The real issue is, that the men who claim they don’t like beautiful girls probably feel this way because they think, they’d never be able to get one anyway. As for the rest of them? These men who say they like to be ‘intellectually stimulated’. Well lets face it, when you’re talking to a group of girls on a night out. Which one do you remember? The one with the banter? Or the one with the great face and huge tits? Say it. Don’t worry, I won’t judge you. If I was standing next to someone with a face like Jesse Williams, no amount of wit and charm would distract me either.

You see in theory most guys do want a funny girl they can talk football to and argue about which Lord of the Rings film was better. In practically we haven’t evolved all that much from the caveman days. And nothing gets those clubs swinging like a sexy little slave girl who knows her way around the cave. And by cave I mean bedroom.

Of course none of us would ever admit to being this fundamentally shallow. When asked, 90% of us will pick ‘personality’ over ‘looks’ every time. Which is lovely. And would be even lovelier if it were true.

In actuality, pre-marriage, people don’t pick their partners based on their mutual liking for late night spooning sessions and staring into each others eyes. You pick them based on how much of a sexy-beast you’d look, standing next to them. But don’t worry about it. You can all continue to chat up the sexiest girl who’ll listen. And in turn we’ll all continue applying make-up and wearing push up bras and pretending we’re naturally this pretty.

I mean lets face it, when you start dating a new girl, your friends will ask to see a picture of her. Not hear a recent joke she’s told you. And whether you want it to or not, it starts to matter.

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I’m a girl who likes her meat.

Don’t look at me like that, as a Cypriot I was brought up believing two things. The first is that anything edible can and should be barbequed. The second is that nothing compliments meat, like another side of meat.

You can imagine my concern therefore upon up-taking a two week vegetarian challenge, that the burger cravings might kill me. There was an honest moment of panic where I seriously considered carrying chicken slices around in my purse for emergencies, (I was however dissuaded by the prospect of hungry dogs chasing me down the street).

I also decided to document my progress as I went along, so my story would live on if I did not survive the challenge:

Day 1: To be honest I don’t see what all the panic was about. Scrambled eggs, boiled eggs, poached eggs, fried eggs… my solution to a vegetarian life. And I am happy in the knowledge that my lunch is only a fertilisation away from being real meat.

Day 4: Drove past KFC today. A little part of me wanted to do a head drive through their front window and live happily ever after with a bucket of chicken wings.

Day 5: My parents made steak for Sunday dinner. Twenty-one years of Sunday dinner and I don’t once remember seeing a steak. A blatantly tactical move to make me suffer. They bought me quorn. It tasted a little like breaded cardboard, but one jug of gravy later and I was a Yorkshire pudding away from a Sunday Roast.

Day 6: Started work experience at London Greek Radio in Finchley. I work oposite Nandos, McDonalds and Chimi Changa. My mouth could be having a chicken enduced party right now. Instead I’m eating a cheese salad sandwhich from the Cafe next door.

Day 8: I dreamt of burgers last night. No, seriously, I did.

Day 11: I accidentally burnt everyone’s dinner. They ate blackened lasagne and suddenly my little quorn burgers are looking very appealing to them. Unintentional revenge. Ha.

Day 13: Went for a curry with my girls. Now for the record, curry without meat is just vegetables with sauce. I’m just saying if I wanted mushy potatoes blended with onions and peas, I could have saved myself twenty quid and eaten processed baby food.

Day 14: Eggs, Peanut butter, pasta, bread, cheese, chocolate and about fifteen teas a day are what got me this far. There is a strong possibility that a permanent vegetarian lifestyle would be a short stop away from obesity for me. And having lived in the body of a chubby teenager I can confirm the double-chin look does very little for me.

Two weeks later and I’m just about ready for an onion-smothered hot dog.

Do I feel bad for eating meat? When I was younger I used to, I can’t say that I do any more. If I had a pet cow or sheep I don’t doubt I’d change my mind again, but seeing as my garden isn’t big enough for either, that’s not an immediate issue of mine.

As for my experience, what can I say…

Do I think I could live without meat? Yes.

Do I want to? No.

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I’ve never been a fan of metrosexuality; there’s something distinctly unattractive about a man who takes several hours longer than me to get ready for a night out.

My advice would be, if it takes longer than ten minutes to fix your hair in the morning, cut it off. If you have a deeply receding hairline, just own it and shave it off. And lastly if you plan to kiss a girl, she’s probably going to want to run her fingers through your hair, when she does this, she doesn’t want to get stuck in there, so seriously, go easy on the hair gel.

Shower. Every day. Don’t look at me like that. You may think this is common sense, but millions of others don’t. Having lived in halls of residence way back in my first year of university I learnt many things: canned spaghetti bolognaise takes a lot like boiled tomatoes, 100 shots of beer will probably make you sick, and men do not wash nearly as often as us women would like to think.

Also, I’m not sure if this turning-your-boxers-inside-out rumour is true, but I’m telling you from now, short of chlamydia, skid-marks on the outside of your boxers are about the least sexy thing a woman can find down there. There is never a good enough excuse for this. Someone broke into your house and stole every last piece of clothing you own? Manufacture a man-diaper out of towels if you have to, and waddle over to your nearest Primark.

Being an innocent and virtuous girl, I am in no position to confirm this, however I have it on good authority that some men don’t taste great. Don’t all rush for the Listerine; I’m not talking about your mouths. What you eat effects your body fluids, so perhaps instead of three burgers a day, consider switching over to a salad every once in a while. I’ve heard pineapple also works wonders, so how about you give it a go?

I know what you’re thinking, sounds like a lot of unnecessary work made up by women to feel like their men are contributing something to the relationship. And I suppose that’s fair enough, but next time your misses is ‘too tired’ to give you a little BJ, you’re going to have to wonder if some melon for breakfast would have resulted in a three-course orgasm for lunch.

Every woman likes a man who knows how to dress well; but when it comes down to it we’re all much more concerned about what’s underneath the Armani shirt. Every girl is different, some like men who wear designer brands; others really couldn’t care less what the guy wears as long as his mother didn’t make it.

Personally I have a particular aversion to men wearing pink or baby blue. But let’s be honest, if a girls been single for a while, upon meeting an attractive man, unless he’s wearing bright tangerine with baby pink trimmings, she probably wouldn’t care less about what he’s wearing.

Of course everyone’s different and the girls like myself who want Manolo Blahnik’s more than they want children are probably shallow enough to be a little put off by a man who dresses badly. But I beg of you, don’t hold it against us; we also happen to be our own worst critics.

If you happen to fall for one such (slightly) shallow creature, all is not lost. When in doubt: turn to dark jeans and black shirts. As for shoes, avoid dirty white trainers and pretty much anything with tassels.

Take it from me, what my advice lacks in scientific backing, it makes up for in life experience.

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Him: S’cuse me, I wondered if you could help me.
Me: Yes?
Him: I have a lactose intolerance… got milk? *stares blatantly at my breasts*
Me: *unimpressed*

There is not enough Jack Daniels in the world to make a line like that work. It’s not that I have anything against chat up lines; but perhaps in the 30 seconds it takes you to walk from your end of the bar to mine, you can think of something to talk about which doesn’t involve my bra.

The problem is any fool with a half-baked line he read on google thinks he can pull it off and I’m here to set the record straight.

Just because a few vodka-ed up girls with self-esteem issues have thrown themselves at you after you reel off some line about her dress looking great on your bedroom floor, doesn’t mean it’s going to work on me. Or in fact on anyone with an IQ above 40.

“Do you believe in love at first sight … or should I walk past again?”
For goodness sake go back to the drawing board and come back with something I haven’t heard twenty times before. There’s this thing called originality, why don’t you shock me to death and try it once in a while.

“There are 256 bones in your body! Would you like another?”
Pretty damn funny but you’re still going home alone. While I love a confident guy as much as the next girl, you don’t have to make it quite so clear that you think I look easier than a Sunday morning.

In fact this goes hand in hand with the guys that pester you to text them pictures of yourself a week after you’ve met them. “Please babe send me a picture of you in that sexy outfit” – calm down mate, you bought me a £3.99 glass of wine from Weatherspoons and now you expect a peep show? Heaven forbid you paid for a cinema ticket, who knows what you would expect from me then.

“I’m not saying this 2 impress you but, I’m batman!!!”
I’m not lying; I’d probably take this one home. What can I say; I’m a sucker for a man with a good sense of humour.

I mean there are guys who think they’re funny. Guys who look funny, guys who try so hard to be funny. But a guy who can actually string a sentence together and produce something that elicits a genuine laugh? Well ladies, if you’re reading, send that guy all the pictures he wants. He’s a dying breed and it’s our duty to do what we can to keep the species alive.

And for the gentlemen who aren’t comically inclined? Well I have a tip for you too: hit the gym. If you can’t make me laugh, then at the very least provide a Danny Cipriani-esque body to distract me from that fact.

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“There’s no such thing as a funny girl”. What. “Girls aren’t funny”. Come again. “They try to be funny but it never works”. Stop now.

All these years I’ve been reassuring myself that I can compensate for all the areas in life which I am lacking, with my good sense of humour. My friends have made no effort to correct my life long belief system that my ability to make people laugh will balance out the fact I am vertically challenged (okay short) and opinionated (mouthy).

Mankind has however decided it is time to put me in my place. Well, actually, just a singular man, but he assures me he is a designated mouthpiece for the male species in general. And the news he has to bear? “Comedy should be left to us men”. That’s right.

And us ladies? We should stick to the areas our intellects can handle…perfecting our polite laugh and mastering a good meatloaf. Now don’t get me wrong, as a Greek girl I understand the importance of managing to look sexy in an apron and being able to make the perfect halloumi sandwich. I just didn’t realise that was all we were meant to do.

The problem now is, I’m going to have to find myself a new niche. Something to help me stand out from the crowd: aside from my apparently piss-poor jokes and curly hair. One of my friends for example can do the chest flex: not impressed? What if I tell you she’s a girl? Now that’s pretty cool, and that right there, is a niche.

So I asked him, this friend of mine, who told me there’s no such thing as a funny girl (and even if there was, no one would want to date her). I asked him what would be a more desirable female quality. After all, I don’t want to make the effort to develop a new talent, only to be told it is also obsolete.

Cooking? Probably not right? That’s what a guy has his mum for. Being champion of Mario Cart’s Rainbow road? Sure, if you want to be one of the lads. Guess that rules out competitive eating too. Which is a shame really, growing up in a family where Sunday lunch consisted of 30 people, the eat-or-have-it-eaten-for-you mentality means I can eat anyone under the table. Quantity and speed.

And then he told me the secret to being desirable, and asked me to pass it on to female-kind.

“The sexiest thing a girl can do, is laugh at my jokes”.

“What if they’re not funny?” I had to ask because, bless his soul, generally they’re not.

“Laugh anyways”. Just like that. The answer to love and all its problems summed up in two simple words.

I’ll get right on that, as soon as I find somewhere to store my dignity for a while. Though, maybe, until I find a big yellow storage for my soul I’ll stick to my average jokes and unladylike sarcasm.

And as for my friend, (and in fact all men that that like the silent-cooking types) perhaps you should invest in a bread-maker and forgo the trouble of a real relationship. I promise, you’re going to save yourself a fortune in texts.

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