It’s alllll about the subtext fellas. If I’m standing in the kitchen (har-har woman in the kitchen joke yadda yadda) slamming cabinets and smashing pots together and you ask “Hey, do you need help?” to which my response is “NOOOOO I don’t need ANY HELP AT ALL”…clearly, I need help even if I didn’t flat-out say so. Not every response is this big of a “duh” though, so here’s the breakdown of what she says she means versus what she actually means.
What She Said: “Would you mind doing -INSERT MUNDANE CHORE/WHATEVER HERE- for me…?”
What She Meant: Look, I know there’s about a 3% chance you’re actually going to do what I’m about to ask, and a 5% chance you even kept listening to me after I got to the word “doing.” Keeping all of that in mind, there is clearly no way in ever-loving-buttfuck that I would ask you to do something unless I really, really could not do it myself. For example, maybe I just asked you to go to Home Depot and bring back a 60 pound plank of plywood. What do I need a 60 pound plank of plywood for? I don’t fucking know, all I do know is that I can’t lift 60 pounds of dead tree all by myself, and so that leaves me with you, who when I asked you to repeat back to me said “Uh huh yeah, okay, got it.” That’s not even close to what I said, but I’ll take what I can get. And if you’re wondering “Well if there’s only a 3% chance I’m going to do what you just asked, then why did you even bother asking me?”, well, 3% is more than 0%, right?
What She Said: “I don’t really care where we go out to eat, you can pick.”
What She Meant: Yes, technically you can pick, and technically I don’t care where we go, but that doesn’t mean I’m down to go eat at “The Meatery Of Meaty Meats” like you just suggested. For starters,
1. Yo, do I LOOK like I’d want to go somewhere that refers to itself as a “Meatery”??
2. …alright so maybe I would be okay with a “Meatery,” but that’s not someplace I had in mind.
In other words, think of all the restaurants I like and pick from those. The phrase “I don’t care” does not equate to “Think of every single place I would never, EVER want to go to and then pick one of those to eat at.” And if you try and ask me what I actually want to eat…
It’s going to go exactly like that. So just pick someplace that I won’t hate, and if I don’t want to go there I will either tell you, or get the fuck over myself and eat.
What She Said: “Hey, did you ever get around to doing -INSERT WHATEVER SHE ASKED YOU TO DO IN #1 HERE- …?
What She Meant: You clearly have not moved in the last 3 hours, so I KNOW you didn’t do whatever I asked. This is me “politely” reminding you before I get bitchy. And by “bitchy,” I mean going on tirades about how “You don’t do anything around here,” “Why can’t you just MOVE,” “It’s not even that fucking HARD just GET UP.” The last time I checked, your legs are not broken, you are not crippled, and you still have not put a load of laundry into the washer. Oh and no, acting like a fucking idiot about it will not get you out of doing it in the future.
Pulling shit like that’ll just piss me off and make me bitch at you to do even more stuff in the future, purely out of spite.
What She Said: “Do you think she’s pretty?”
What She Meant: Alright, there’s two ways to go about responding to this frickin’ landmine of a question:
1. “Yeah, but she’s also kinda got a mustache (or any other gross quality, it doesn’t matter if you have to make it up).
2. “No way! You’re way prettier baby omg so hawwwt fuk mehhh 😉 😉 ;)”
Depending on the girl, she’ll either be content with #1 and drop it, or if you try and throw a fat #2 at her complete with awful winking and general schmooze she’ll tell you to fuck off…unless she’s an insecure twat, in which case #2 all the way. Otherwise you’ll end up with this bullshit:
Either way, the point is to either downplay the hottie or blow her ego so hard it gives you a goddamn facial. Those are the responses she’s looking for.
What She Said: “I’ll be ready in 15 minutes, I swear.”
What She Meant: No seriously, I’ll be done in 15 minutes. Not every girl conforms to this stupid cliche where they take 5 hours to put on a layer of lipstick. The real question is, are you going to be ready to step out the door in 15 minutes? Because if you so much as take 30 seconds to put on shoes I’m going to bolt back into the bathroom to make sure my hair still looks okay since I’m waiting for you anyway, and that’ll take at least a minute or two, to which you’ll start bitching about how “Yur taking furevURRRRRR.” Bitch I said 15 minutes and I was READY in 15 minutes, step your game up and don’t be wastin’ my time.
What She Said: “I am NOT in the mood for that right now.”
What She Meant: This.
The end.
What She Said: “Your friend ‘Jenny’ is very…nice.”
What She Meant: Your friend Jenny either looks like a whore, is fat, weird, or is something generally “bleh” enough to make me use a blandly passive-aggressive word like “nice.” You know what words are used to describe people? “Cool.” “Funny.” “Chill.” The word “nice” is reserved solely for when every other single word in the English language is either too complimentary for this pudding cup of a person or when you can’t think of any possible way to describe someone without being mean. “Nice” is reserved for fat people who aren’t awful human beings, for people that are so goddamn annoying you want to gouge your eyes out with butter knives but at the same time they’re too “meh” to say anything mean about, and for people you want to generally avoid in the “nicest” way possible. It is a fucking kiss of death, and she does not actually like that person or think that she is “nice.”
What She Said: “Oh my god so like, I was over at Annie’s house the other night and like so-and-so has gotten SO. FAT. Like I’m talking blah blah blah…”
What She Meant: I know you don’t care about the stupid drama my friends talk about, but I want you to sit here and agree with everything I say. It doesn’t matter what it is. If I say “Janice needs to adopt 600 orphans from Detroit and eat all of them,” then all I want you to do is sit there and agree with me. I’m not looking for you to gossip with me, and I couldn’t care less if you were actually listening. Your only purpose in life at this moment is to sit there and agree with every opinion I have, regardless of how stupid it is.
What She Said: “…you’re not actually wearing that to dinner, are you?”
What She Meant: You look like a hobo who was run over by a semi and then shat on by a herd of mating raccoons. Go change, you’re embarrassing me and we haven’t even left the house yet.
What She Said: “You can tell me the truth, I promise I won’t get mad.”
What She Meant: I have every intention of not getting mad. Really, I do. But if you’re about to tell me that you BROKE THE DRIVER SIDE MIRROR OFF OF MY CAR AGAIN THEN I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU EXPECT. Seriously dude? It’s one thing if, y’know, someone was driving too close and you just happened to be sitting in my car. Whatever. But you fucking FLOORED it in reverse down the driveway, ONTO the sidewalk, and then SMASHED into a “Yield” sign. If it weren’t for the fact that we’re dating I would have to assume you did that because you hate me. It takes MORE effort to floor a gas pedal than it does to just let a car coast, and I know you’re all about the lazy way out. How do I know that? Because you were using my car to go to Chipotle. Chipotle is only THREE, count that THREE FUCKING BLOCKS UP THE ROAD. It’s one thing if it was 9:59 at night and Chipotle was about to close, but it was two in the goddamn afternoon. Last time I checked your legs aren’t fucking crippled, but maybe next time I’ll inspect your brain because that’s clearly not functioning correctly.
“It’s okay Rebecca, we can superglue it back on!”
COOL DUDE, not only are you too cheap to get my mirror properly replaced, but now my car is literally held together WITH $2 GLUE YOU BOUGHT AT CVS. For fuck’s sake, it wasn’t even the name brand! Your fucking burrito bowl cost more than that piss you call “glue.” I hope my Dad reads this and bitches you out when we all go on vacation next month, because my excuse of “Durrr….idk sumtimez eet juzt fallz off?” when he asked what the fuck happened to my mirror AGAIN didn’t fucking cut it. Not by a mile.