No too terribly long ago I wrote another stellar What's
My Beef article outlining the many, many games
women like to play because they're all insane (NOTE: article
referred to as "stellar" because it, like everything I write, ought to
be launched out into space, possibly on a NASA space shuttle so that we
can all be assured it will explode). At the end I called for all you reader
out there to write in and suggest other games that I may have forgotten.
I only got a few responses, but they're certainly good ones.
The first comes from Dastardly Dave:
Don't forget my personal favorite, as evidenced by the movie
"How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days."
No matter what the girl has done to the guy, no matter how fucking
mean it was, say torturing a guy for ten days, for a goddamn magazine article,
the possibly lesser crime of the guy, say, actually trying to work things
out with her, in order to save face at the office, was much worse and should
be apologized for in some grand fashion
Ah yes, the old "Never Apologize Game." Typically, when a women discovers
she's wrong (which, contrary to
Home Improvement is virtually
every time), said woman will burst into tears, making the man feel so guilty
that he actually breaks down and apologizes. Or she'll just bring
up something you did ten years ago which she considers worse. Women
have amazing memories. They can't for the life of them remember how
to safely operate a motor vehicle yet they can remember the
one
time you accidentally slipped up and screwed nine strippers in a
jacuzzi. Bitches.
Rosencrantz from We
Ain't Cool had a fantastic suggestion:
Your article about the games women play was funny as hell but
I'm disappointed you forgot the worst game of them all. The little game
I call the "Nothing's Wrong" game.
Guy: Hey baby, is everything alright? You seem upset.
Girl: No, I'm fine.
Guy: You're sure?
Girl: Yeah, everything is fine. Do I look upset or something?
Guy: Yeah, a little bit.
Girl: That's odd.
Guy goes to watch TV and an hour or so later the explosion comes:
Girl: WHY ARE YOU BEING SUCH AN ASSHOLE?
Guy: Whoa, what the fuck?
Girl: Don't act like you don't know.
I like this email because it started out saying I was funny as hell, but
then goes on to say how disappointed Rosencrantz was. This is nice
because it reminds me a lot of every other email I get. "That article
was great, but at the same time you're an asshole and you suck."
Ah well, he does have a good point. This is a sort of offshoot of
the "I Don't Really Want an Answer to This Question" game, except they
goad you into asking the question to which
you really don't want
the answer. I mean let's face it, you don't care what's wrong.
Nine times out of ten she's just trying to start a fight. Here's
the solution: ask her what's wrong. She'll invariably say "nothing."
Then say "OK" and go out to the strip club. Or kick her in the teeth,
the choice is yours.
Finally, Dean had quite a bit to say on the subject:
The "Don't you think you've had enough to drink?" game.
You know the scenario. Little Miss Priss tells you she's going on a
'girls night out'. She can do this. It's allowed apparently in their handbook.
It's a 'girly thing' and YOU WILL UNDERSTAND WITHOUT QUESTION.
She gracefully acquiesces that you might still have friends left from
before you met her and had to make her your every waking breath, and lets
you invite what's left of your past over for a few beers and a card game.
Just as you are settling into a fun filled evening of farting, belching
chunks and trying to stick her fucking cat into the dryer she waltzes back
in with a look of death on her face.
Apparently her evening wasn't all it was cracked up to be (Usually,
one of her friends probably wore the same top. Or, all of her friends apparently
have better relationships than she does and you just became pond scum for
the night.). So now she's home and you and your friends just became
satan's minions. At this point you are immediately expected to know what
the hell went wrong with her night out.
Now the game begins with nothing more than an utter look of contempt
for the male being. Which, in turn, allows you to make your move of chugging
a Bud and trying to belch, "Hi honey, you're home!" to look cool in front
of your chums whilst acknowledging that the trousers in the home just returned.
Round two consists of being called a pig (or something along those lines
and having a door slammed somewhere in your immediate vicinity while
your friends stare at you and try to push all open alcohol containers in
your general direction (I call this the bail out effect. Wherein your so-called friends
have received the wrath of hell from their own spawn of satan in this situation
and want no part in sharing in your own personal hell. Usually in case
they can get off with her at a later date in case you two break up over
all this).
Round three is mainly the age old "What's wrong honey?" sparring
that usually involves every negative answer available, thrown in with a
few remembered snide remarks about her family for effect. It usually proceeds
to round four after your friends are heard sniggering in the kitchen whilst
finishing off your beer as fast as possible before round four kicks in.
Round four is a doozy. It's the 'throw your friends out we need to talk
round!'. Not a great deal of explanation needed here. Mainly because
there is no logic in the ensuing conversation. You just end up looking
like a pussy whipped creep in front of your mates and then get your ears
bent for possibly saying her ass looked big six months ago while you were
trying to watch Oakland bury San Diego by half-time.
Round five is make or break. You either have to sleep in the car or
you get a night of wild sex because you just said the words she wanted
to hear. Unfortunately, the words she wanted to hear may not be as obvious
as you are hoping. At which point your balls are allowed to get hit and
she goes into hibernation until the next morning. The magic words could
be anything from "So you want to go to Taco Bell?" to "You are my life.
I love every moment with you, I'd die for you... etc." to "So you want
a good hard shafting and get treated like a dirty whore?" (rhetorically
asked).
It's a fucking lottery!!!! The only real winner is the one possessing
the breasts. But at least you get a three to one chance of having
wild, unbridled, totally dirty sex for the first time since her sister
slept over after her big break up with Hank, the stock broker who turned
out to be a floor sweeper at the local abattoir.
NOTE: This game can also be played in bars that she knows you used to
go to before she stuck you in solitary and called it a relationship. In
this version, after her failed fun night out with the girls, she will stalk
you until she finds you and humiliate you in public. I call this version
the Superbawl, as she displays a public crying act that could break the
heart of Stalin whilst making you look like Joseph Goebels on a bad day.
Also, this game can be played in reverse to kick it off should
you feel remotely suicidal. This is easily achieved by asking the omnipotent
one if you can go out with the lads for a few drinks this Friday. The game
then starts with either:
"I'm not good enough company for you?"
or
"But I had a special evening planned for us that night!"
Enjoy guys. It's part of life... or death without dying (physically,
at least!).
Dean seems to roll up several games into one, and does so while using the
word "chum." This makes it an automatic nomination for "Best Email
Ever" as everyone of us read that and immediately thought of the old
Batman
series. This is a real accomplishment in my book. It also reminds
us all of another insane trait of women: when they're unhappy, you're
unhappy. And why is it that when women invent arguments the man sleeps
somewhere else? Ten to one says it's
your house, why do you sleep
on the fucking couch? Tell the bitch you're sleeping where you want
and throw her out the window.
Pretty good stuff, but I'm sure there's still more. Men, get to
work and send me some emails.
And women, I'm still interested in your take on games men play (NOTE: in
this case, "interested" means "I'll pretend to read it and maybe even post
it"), so let's for once get
a woman's perspective around here. Or just call us all pigs or
assholes and start crying until we give in and say we're sorry.
- Danimal
