The Ladylike Chronicles – Week IV
It’s that time of year again. Nominations for the Black Weblog Awards have started and I would really like one. So show how much you love me (and I know you do) nominating me. You can get all the details and sh*t over here. Well it’s Thursday and that means it’s time for an update [...]
It’s that time of year again. Nominations for the Black Weblog Awards have started and I would really like one. So show how much you love me (and I know you do) nominating me. You can get all the details and sh*t over here.
Well it’s Thursday and that means it’s time for an update on my social experiment (get caught up here if you’re lost). When we last spoke, I hadn’t heard from Codename: Fire and was considering my experiment a bust. But he has resurfaced so the mission continues.
Sidebar: for those of you who are wondering where he disappeared to, why he took so long to reappear, and what excuse he gave for said disappearance, fret not. It will all be used as fodder for the blog soon enough.
So long story short we made plans to have lunch. This meant I was in trouble right out of the gate – I have extremely weird eating habits and weird is the opposite of ladylike. So I had to give him my “we can have lunch as long as you don’t mind that I might not eat anything” speech. Which turned into my “explanation of why I don’t eat like a normal person” speech. Which involves the word “bowels”. So that’s ladylike fail #1 right there.
Ladylike fail #2: We had a conversation about the concept of having a wifey and many side bitches. I was already failing by letting it be known that I a) have any knowledge on the topic and b) condone it. But to dig my grave even further there was the following outburst: “the problem is that dudes always try to wife the side bitches. You don’t wife a side bitch, you fuck a side bitch”.
But then I put my hand to my mouth, opened my eyes all wide and said “Oops. I’m sorry. That wasn’t very ladylike, was it?”. That seemed to undo the bulk of the damage.
Ladylike fail #3: There was a conversation about pubic hair in which I made it clear that since I’m not an 11 year-old girl, I do not want my downthere to look like one. Talking about pubes at the table is not very ladylike, is it?
Ladylike almost-fail: He went across the street to the bank machine before the bill came. I didn’t know if it was a #swindle or a test or what but I was ready to just ask the waitress for the bill and pay it myself. If I wasn’t doing this experiment that’s exactly what I would have done. But sensing that sneak-paying the bill was no a very ladylike thing to do, I called the bestie for the go-ahead and she shut me down immediately. Crisis averted!
At first I was really conscious of the whole ladylike thing and being hyper-vigilant about everything I said but pretty soon I kinda relaxed. I realized that the easiest way to stay ladylike was to listen more than I spoke; a completely foreign concept for me but it worked. Another funny thing was that I realized that my concept of being ladylike is quickly morphing into some kind of bastardized version of The Rules. And that’s not a completely bad thing. But it is another post for another day.
Overall though I’d say I did a pretty good job and we had a really good time. I definitely noticed a difference in the way the afternoon went in comparison to other dates I’ve been one when I’ve been all raw-dog right from the beginning.
So what do you guys think? Could this experiment be working? Or is it still too soon to tell? Got any tips for me for keeping my dutty mouth in check? Coach me in the comments.
And don’t forget the nominations for the Black Weblog Awards! Easy instructions are right here.