To save or not to save??

I have a problem with cheap men. I have not had the misfortune to date a lot of them; however the cumulative dating experiences my friends and I have shared regarding tightwads only serve to solidify my antipathy for this phenomenon. Especially men who advertise their more than six figure incomes on match making web sites who call to “move up” your 6 o’clock dinner date to 4:30pm in anticipation of the two for one tapas special. Or men who pick you up in an eight series, gleaming silver BMW only to present the waiter with a twenty percent off coupon at the conclusion of the meal, without an ounce of shame as no attempts at discretion were made when bartering price with the waiter. Meanwhile your only recourse is to slowly sink deeper into your seat and pray that the earth will envelop you. Only the bus boy would notice your absence and he does not speak English, thus no reporting to the authorities.
If a man asks you out to dinner, regardless of the outcome of the date, he should possess some semblance of courtesy and pick up the bill, to prevent that ensuing “shifty eye syndrome” that occurs when the waitress places said bill in “Switzerland” aka the neutral zone or center of the table. The battle of wills ensues, shifting of eyes and beading of sweat above the pencil lip as he looks from the bill to you, bill to you hoping you will buckle and present the AMEX. Men presume the neutral zone presents the right to indecision, that if the waitress had placed the bill a fraction of an inch to the right of the dividing line in his direction, that would have eliminated any bent for cheapness and he would have miraculously paid the balance without batting an eye. Excuse my proverbial snorting. Once a cheapskate always a cheapskate, no matter how smooth the banter or glossy the exterior.
I once dated an air force pilot who owned two houses, a ford expedition, a refitted Porsche, with an impressive stock portfolio. He touted his strong belief in equal rights between the sexes but used it as a cloak behind which he hid his terribly cheap nature. It was insidious, trips to the restroom when the bill came to prevent his contribution, ordering one diet coke with two straws at a club under the guise of romantic sharing of drinks. Thought love is blind; I eventually caught on to his true nature and jumped ship. If a man does not have enough class to pick up the majority of the expenses when first courting a woman, he is not worth your time. Down the road in an established relationship it is appropriate and expected for a woman to make her fair contribution. Limited self respect in the initial stages of dating serve as a red flag as to the status of his intent or his opinion of your self worth, and is hardly worth saving a few dimes in the effort. When my ex questioned my departure from the relationship, my retort of “I just got really thirsty” fell upon deaf ears. So much for the Ivy League education.

Take them at their word..

Of the many things I love about men, the one trait I consider most effective and admirable is their pragmatism and directness when dealing with uncomfortable issues; i.e. the ability to cut through the minutia of detail that unnecessarily layers a problem to get to the core issue. Men present facts without emotion, with enough analyzation of the simple data to assess, conclude and resolve the problem. Most women, including myself, when presented with an issue, get so overwhelmed with emotion and detail that they literally drown in the ancillary "white noise" of the drama, which ultimately obscures the core issue and thus prevents a practical assessment and conclusion.
Last night while out with my girlfriends at an upscale night club we sometimes frequent, I ran into my wonderfully practical and "NO BS" friend Matt, sometimes rough, always blunt, the epitome of the adage "say what you mean, and mean what you say" with no subterfuge in the sub context of his words. Listen closely ladies, for this is the point of this blog, cleverly disguised in the middle of my narrative rather than comprising the opening sentence. Listen to what men say, for they seldom beat around the bush, saying one thing but "meaning another" as we so foolishly delude ourselves when presented with rejection or an answer contrary to our desire. They don't like to prolong drama as we do. There are to many college football games to watch.
Back to Matt. After the requisite cordiality, I asked Matt how he was doing. His cryptic and emphatic reply "better than I was last night" opened the Pandora's box of my curiousity.
It seems that Matt was out alone the evening prior, enjoying a beer at a local watering hole. He was certainly not adverse to a night of no strings reciprocity with a willing female should the opportunity present itself as a relationship was the last thing on his mind.
The gods of physical gratificaton were smiling upon him, for soon thereafter drunk girl and her best friend, "buzzed girl" started chatting Matt up at the bar, engaging in the kind of banter that loudly infered their willingness to participate in some "no strings attached fun", whomever Matt decided to choose. Their good friend Jack Daniels turned on "drunk girl" making her feel ill and thus exit the bar. therefore Matt decided that "buzzed girl" would suffice. Now don't think badly of Matt; he is an honest about his intentions, whether it be to take a good woman out to dinner or a willing woman back to bed. and if the answer is no to either, then that is that, without any manipulation or dishonesty to gratify himself. After making out in the bar, the parking lot and before jumping in the cab, "buzzed girl" went from making sultry promises about that evening to feigning a headache and deciding she wanted to be alone. Matt chalked it up to alcohol and fickle females and headed home himself. Once home and dressed in sweats and a t shirt, his cell phone rang; the caller ID indicated "buzzed girl" had a change of heart and had become "willing girl". Thus at 2 am Matt was headed 20 minutes north up the freeway. True to his nature, before embarking on this adventure, Matt informed the girl he was not going to spend sixty dollars on a cab ride unless he was going to score. And who could blame him? He was laying his cards out on the table, with no BS. And what girl invites a stranger over to her house at 2am to play parcheesi. The female reiterated her desire to have fun, and thus Matt headed out into the evening, assured of the end result.
The evening did not turn out exatly as planned. Matt spent the next two hours dealing with a vasilating, unbalanced female who could not appreciate the importance of his uncomplicated and direct nature . "Willing" girl opened the door in sexy night clothes only to tell Matt she could not promise him "anything." Twenty minutes later she lay like a playboy model on the bed, (you get the visual picture), telling him she just wanted to "talk". Suffice to say at 4am Matt had enough and informed her of his depature. Strangely enough, she was angry, wondering why men disrepsected her and led her on, ultimately leaving her as he was now doing. Matt took one look at this cuckoo bird and being so wonderfully Matt, let her have it, reminding her that he made it perfectly clear his intention to hook up, and she should have taken him at his word and not wasted his time with her indecision. And ladies, the morale of this story is, when a man is good enough to lay out his cards at the beginning and tell you his true intent, take him at his word and spare yourself the mutual wasting of time and energy reading into his simple statement. Don't delude yourself that his directness was a ploy to disguise a deeper truth. Trust me it was not.

The Christmas Gift Tragedy

If you want a power tool for Christmas, and the pearl earrings waiting for your ears to don them at Bergdorf's are of no consequence, please disregard this blog. However, if you, in the spirit of love, want to "help" your significant other purchase your ideal Christmas gift. If you unselfishly want to prevent his nervous exertion and sleepless nights pondering your pant size, favorite appliance or the advantages of paper vs. plastic in pursuit of gift choices (painfully lost) then read on and prevent another unnecessary tragedy of misguided and inappropriate Christmas gifts. Men do not possess the emotional intuition and detail that drives our decision process; they are practical creatures who make decisions based on logic. This will apply with the ultimately logical decision they will make with regard to your Christmas gift. And women don't want logical for Christmas.
Without your intervention, Christmas morning you once again feign anticipation and excitement over your Christmas gift, and form the ever reliable "fake" smile that pre-empts the poker face you will assume for the rest of the morning as you unwrap the gift (be it a toaster as your husband/boyfriend observed that the previous one burnt your bagels) or a set of tools (as he noticed you hammering a nail into the wall with your stiletto heel) or God forbid, the size 18 pair of "Bongo" jeans that he purchased at the advice of his mother who saw a unique and perfect opportunity at revenge for stealing her precius son. He unfortunately does not realize that size 18 is indicative of a backside nearly 40 inches in diameter nor does he remember that Bongo's hey day corresponded to mullet hair cuts and neon socks. And hello, you don't spend 40 minutes a day on the stair master to fit into your size small seven jeans for nothing. As you provide the requisite "oh you shouldn't have" token response to his precious but incorrect attempt at pleasing you, you resentfully reflect upon the hours he will spend perfecting his verion of Eddie Van Halen's guitar solo with the "guitar hero" Nintendo game set you purchased for him, as you know he does not need guitar lessons but that the 12 year old boy in him still fantasizes about his alternative career as a rock star, groupies and all. Meanwhile you strap on a tool belt, grit your teeth and unsuccessfully convince yourself that would much rather dry wall the front of the house than enjoy a mani, pedi and foot massage at your favorite nail salon.
It is our responsibility to acknowledge and correct this deficit, not walk around in unspoken anger and thus scream at our partner in suppressed frustration when getting your Starbuck's latte order incorrect as you are inwardly seething over his gift purchase.
I highly recommend direct and specific hints regarding Christmas. Especially if you don't have a lovely and knowing man with the foresight to ask you to provide several options as gifts.
1. Whip out your oldest coach handbag, bemoan it's sorry state and reflect upon the imminent and dire need for a replacement, adding the convenience of the Coach outlet store at the nearest outlet mall.
2. Place your feet upon his lap and ask for his opinion on nail shape, color, while innocently reminding him of where you get your nails done, providing salon name, address, zip code and nearest cross street.
3. Walk out in your favorite pair of jeans, while swathed in your favorite scent, sit upon his lap and simply state "I never feel better than when hanging out with my best friends Chanel and 7 denim".
If these attempts fall upon deaf ears and your man's crystal ball is broken, as a last resort you can "fool" your man into hearing your Christmas list. At any sporting event half time, with the assuredness of his "high spirits" place a sticky note on his lap, with a specific list of options. Preface this by apologizing for the latent "wish list" while pretending he had requested this of you weeks ago. He will never deny that he did not request this, merely bow his head in thanks over your forgetfulness and white knuckle the sticky note as the proverbial "Holy Grail". And you will dance around Christmas morning in your new Manolo Blahnick strappy sandals while he signs fake autographs in his boxer shorts.