That’s What He Said.
Shit Some Dudes of our Collective Acquaintance Say.
ADULT CONTENT WARNING: As our good friends at This American Life would say, this article does mention the existence of sex. As well it should.
Man of the hour over here.
Aw. Dudes. We love them, love to hate them, occasionally find one in our beds. They make up some of our good-friend contingent, frequent lover categories, and are the regular target of our ire.
What do they say? Well, they say a lot. Intoxication, hunger, sleep-deprivation, and we know not what else help mediate that which spews forth from the mouths of these babes. What happens after that can only be approached with a sense of humor and a tall PBR, we say.
So grab one, and enjoy. Because in the vein of the popular video meme, we offer you the other side of the skewer: a lady’s perspective on the oft-amusing male(s) in her life. In other words, this is the short list of some of the hilariously bad, awkward, sweet, and aggravating shit dudes say, for better or for worse.
Bottoms up.
On blossoming relationships:
“Wait, are we talking about logistics? I need another beer.”
“I like you, but I have a life.”
When prolifically texting:
: )
: ) : ) : )
Hi.
what u up to [Ed. Note: time-stamp 1:07am]
On flirting:
“You’re charming. In a really low-key kind of way.”
“So, you wanna bone?”
With a thoroughly attractive kind of confidence:
[with intention] “I’m a man. Not a kid.”
Boozey's favorite. Four beers, one man.
“Let me walk your bike.”
“I’m going to make out with you in front of everyone.”
“I’ve read your thesis.” [Ed. Note: What’s that whisper? THE SOUND OF MY HEART FLUTTERING.]
On romancing a lady:
“I need to fuck or sleep.”
Executing good communication with exes:
“YOU OWE ME A DRINK!!”
“Can I show you this picture?” [Ed. Note: of new girlfriend in bed]
“Yeah, I’ve been dating around. A lot. Are you seeing anyone?”
On late-night finesse:
“Come back to my place, lemme play you my gui-tar.” [Ed. Note: interchangeable with “records.”]
[at bar closing]: “So you wanna hang out? At my place? Like, now?” [Ed. Note: no.]
A bespectacled dude, brooding over the a vintage jukebox. A sweetly common sight on the Portland bar circuit.
On flattery:
“You look like Venus di Milo. With arms.”
“Dude. That chick dresses like me.”
“I like your boobs.”
On exes:
“She’s crazy.”
“Dude, she’s so crazy.”
“Yeah, she was such a bitch.”
“Black widow, man. Black widow.”
This comes up when you Google search "black widow." She certainly looks appropriately nocturnal and male-eating. Image courtesy black-widow-movie-trailer.blogspot.com.
On losing to women:
“I just wasn’t playing very well.”
On women’s lib:
“I love that you like sex.”
On reasserting his masculinity:
“You’re not as much of a hard-ass as you think you are.”
On taking it slow:
“I think I’m in love with you.” [Ed. Note: at the one-week mark]
On being faced with male competition:
“Well, this is awkward.”
[Silent unmoving presence]
On non-monogamy:
“We should probably not mention this to [insert girl’s name here].”
“At least I showered first.” [Ed. Note: no comment.]
On lighting the fire of conversation:
“Babe.”
“Babe.”
“Hey babe.”
“But, baby, I love you!”
Tousled hair? Check. Beer-spill rag for a shirt? Check. This, readers, is what we might term a "hunk." Baby, I love you too. Image courtesy thehairpin.com.
On dealing with the check (both, variably, somehow aggravating):
“I got this.”
“You got this?”
Doing it right:
“I think you’re pretty.”
Doing it wrong:
“I think you’re pretty.”
[Ed. Note: it’s complicated!]
Hah! Who really knows anymore, right?
Ok, ok, we’re learning to be fair. A short addendum of shit girls (like us) say:
“That must have been your OTHER GIRLFRIEND.”
“What a dick.”
“Aaaand it’s the end of the night, boys. Who’s coming with me?”
Sexy, eh? Super sexy.
Special thanks to all those boys, dudes, bros, guys, and the occasional gentleman who helped make this possible: Adam, Adam, Alex, Andy, Christian, Dan, Todd, Jacob, Jake Ray, Jim, Joe, Joey, the young John Travolta, Rob, Rob, Robert, Ryan, Sean, Todd, many exes who shall remain unnamed, many bar bros we never learned the names of, and of course the Lutz (of Yore).
