Had my heart broken quite a few times.
Now I ask, what's in this for ME?
When you look at a man who's offering you a romantic relationship, (other than marriage) you need to take a beat and think WHAT'S IN IT FOR ME? And if you’re really a sensitive, caring, brilliant, magical woman, you’ll ask ‘what’s in it for my children one day when I have them?’’ Is he tender, sentimental, loving? Did he come from a loving family? Does he even want children one day? Is he a giver? Is he generous? Did he fill your gas tank before he sent you home? Did he spot that tire with no tread and, with concern, tell you how dangerous that was and make you take his Sears card to go get tires? If he didn’t, date him only when you’re free, when there’s nothing else to do, but mentally place him on a back shelf with a little warning sign on him saying ‘test drive a while to make sure’.
If he did show concern and make an offer, that's a man you want to drag home to meet Momma but I’m afraid that today, girls value other qualities in a man. Like – can he buagaloo? Does he have a great bomber jacket? And oh, here’s one: Is he a good listener. Yep. These girls actually talk about their high school adventures and put perfectly good men to sleep and then they won't date the snore twice (when they're really the snore,) and they go give their passion to some greasy disco dancer because he listens and makes these wonderful comments when she talks and talks and talks. And he has a bomber jacket.
Disco Duckling may make these sensitive cluck and chortle sounds when you talk because his head doesn't hold a real idea. He's glad for one from you. In high school, he learned to smile at the teacher and look attentive and that game works to this day and even gets some poor fool's heart hot with it. Someone listened to her. OH, MIRACLE OF MIRACLES.
Stupid Girls never imagine, hope or expect that a man could care about your road safety and be willing to pay for tires. No, stupid girls dream that a greasy coif date will show his proof of love for you by listening to you TALK, respecting your brains and wit, your HILARIOUS stories as if you were the Guy. You hope this man will even LOVE you or get HOT for you and also never stop wanting you to tell him ALL about your childhood. Well, that actually may happen with a vacant idiot who can fake interest but it will never happen with a real man and should never happen. Tell me, would you fly an airline where the pilot had listened to your dumb story with great absorption?
Maybe boys in high school did but real men in big cities don't! MEN in cities have big brains. The cute story about the Home Ec class where your soufflé fell and your meatloaf burned and you got a D is pathetic. Put it to rest.
You do not need a man to listen to you. Believe it or not, that is not proof of love in the male animal. Proof of love is he sees a tire with no tread and sends you to Sears to get 4 decent replacements. Proof is, he sees your WATER AND POWER bill is on RED and they're going to cut the heat off and this gentleman asks with great concern, "Sweetie, what's up'? And proof that you're a real woman and not some GLASS CEILING scraping career girl growing mini balls, is that you answer….'not my bank account. I'm a little short.' And he hugs you and your eyes tear up with genuine gratitude and astonishment that God sent you a real man and then he passes you a check made out to DWP! I don't know about you but that makes my heart beat faster. REALITY handled! Stop. I'm all Ferklempt!
BIG deal if Travolta listened to the burnt meatloaf story and faked a laugh. Fine . Well, ODIOUS really. Tell me, What's in it for you with Mr. disco Grease who can bat his eyes? Is he going to pay your light bill? NO. He spends all his money on poly suits so he can enter Travolta contests.
So take a beat and ask yourself. What's better? What's in it for me? A lifetime with Mr. gold chain-wearing, hair on chest Greasy coiffure and spotted poly suit is going to be a lifetime of electric light bills on red but this other nice man noticed the bill on my desk. The smart girls says, next ten times the Mini-Me Travolta calls, I'm not in. And when The Sears card calls. I am in. Why? Because? I want something to be in it for me.' And if selfishness isn't your thing. And you insist on wearing a halo… Do it for your unborn child. Say one day my little baby girl will be shivering in her crib with the heat turned off, or my infant, baby boy will be riding in the carseat on four tires that explode throwing him and his ma off the bridge and into the icy river. Too horrible to contemplate so as I have a TENDER HEART, I will make an effort to like the Sears Card guy not the Disco hunk. Cuz of that unborn kid. Ain't I an altruist! Gimme the halo. I earned it.
BE HOT INSTEAD OF COLD. (DUHHH)
Girls today are bad at marketing themselves. You don't have your own best interests at heart. You show up in slacks, Adidas, a windbreaker. Gimme a break. Make it a complete look, wear jockey shorts so when he undresses you he gets the real picture. Want to know how to be alone? Dress comfortably and sensibly. Want to drive another man into hypergear smashing furniture to get to your side? You don't have to be Einstein to know that Sex sells. If tomato sauce came in a black can, who'd buy it?
American girls are mini-men. Prideful. They have an arrogant attitude. Know how this manifests? They don't flirt. They send out zero signals. Do you expect men to be mind readers? If you do, your going out is the same as your staying home. Save your money.
Have you ever seen a French girl flirt? Her body language is vivid. She's not sitting immobile, knees crossed like Aunt Agatha. She's standing and moving in a way that shows she hears the music and she'd rather be dancing. Her flouncy skirt swings, showing knees, and great calves as she's wearing high heels. Her wisp of a blouse is stretched across breasts with a good bra holding them somewhere they belong…a blouse that shows their form, not a gunny sack.
In that outfit, even if there's no music, she still has a fluid, graceful body language. She's glancing across the room, boldly, and when she sees him looking at her, she pauses in a way that says she's been shot through the heart with how awesome he is. She's not just waiting to catch a man's eyes. She's not waiting for a man to go from zero to sixty and come right up to her. Cuz miracle and the tooth fairy don't exist. No, she's carefully invited all eyes to delight themselves at her expense. She's watchable, alive. Maybe ten men look at her --as, heck, she's moving….but you know what? She has control. She gets to pick one man out of the crowd by her eyes alighting on him and looking that little extra bit stunned which says, I may be so pretty you're struck dumb but you are awesome to me, Mister. I would not reject you.
Then she does the feint. She turns away quickly as if she's having an embarrassing lightning bolt heart flutter and it's too much for her. She's gone. And it's as if she's never coming back. That wakens urgency in him. His heart is pounding. She's just turned away and he really wants that girl.
Now while this mini-ballet is going on, the American girl is still sitting like a clay pigeon waiting to be launched into space so somebody can shoot her down. That and the American debt going away --both ain't gonna happen.
Meanwhile, the French girl has turned her back on him, right?. That really pierces his heart. Now she kinda peeks -- like I remember you. Oddly enough you linger in memory and I'm still thinking about you. She catches his eye again and then she blushes twenty shades of red, as if they were sharing a joke at how silly and excitable and alive she is. She glances back at him as if, 'did you see the consternation you caused when I saw you, you big hunk you??' No maybe he didn't catch it the first time but even if he's the dullest spoon in the drawer, now he's beginning to. His feet are heading toward her only she's turned away again so all he sees as he swims through the crowd is her small waist, great butt, swinging to the music. We have a motivated customer.
Meanwhile pan back to the American girl who is porking out at the buffet in sheer frustration and pouting and drinking a whiskey and smoking a cigarette.
In the Olympics for Love that little European has already got the guy's pulse racing and his hands sweating and his feet moving across the room. He never even saw the American girl. Give La Francaise ten minutes and he will be sitting with her, staring into her eyes. She'll be parting her lips, that extra awe-struck lay-it-on-with-a-trowel look, and admiration is the highest emotion we have on this planet. She'll be laughing at his nothing jokes, hanging on his nothing words. No wonder foreign women land men. Know why they do it though? Because back in Paris France, they got one refrigerator for two families and one john for nine. They are what we'd call motivated to nail a guy.
Now, you and I know you have to nail l00 guys and run their credit report (30$ online) to find one who is not an ex con, not bankrupt, not with ten judgments against him. You have to kiss a hundred frogs to find one prince. That means you gotta come to the Big City with Streets paved in Gold and be prepared to roll up your sleeves and make an effort. Not just wear mascara well and pout sullenly on a chair, then pork out at the buffet when life doesn't go your way.
So while the French woman is giving out her card to Mr. Trembling hands, and then trading glances with that stunning 40 year old peruque guy in the Armani, who will be her next conquest tonight, yes, the same night….and maybe nine more….all of that driving Trembly Heart wild with jealousy, driving the knife already tearing at his gut, ---- while that's happening, the preening, infantile American woman in the black windbreaker and slacks looking as NEW YORK cool as oh, say Ellen De Generes, -- is stuck in the corner with her cool act, wolfing two pieces of quiche…. feigning disinterest, isolated, as if she were inanimate mascara ad model hanging on the wall only she's got grease on her chin. Great if she's an ad on a bus, bad if you're marketing yourself as a vivacious, animated, loving, alive love toy that men want to compete for.
Cut to next week. TremblyHeart is trying to book her entire weekend for a Yankee game only the Guy in the Armani is bidding to take her to Jamaica on his corporate jet. In TWO rooms like she insisted because she won't give it away just for some-dumb-jaunt to a beach. The price of her AFFECTIONS is going to be a lidddle bit higher than JAMAICA. WHY? Because 'what's in it for HER just a shabby trip to JAMAICA? Huh? WHAT IS IN IT FOR ME, BUSTER?? Sand in my ear?
DUMB THINGS WOMEN DO. BAD HABITS = BAD LUCK.
I see more stupid things done by women than the Warden at a woman's prison. I had a pal who used to be a Beverly Hills Meter Maid. Oddly, she later became the top Beverly Hills Matchmaker, (after a stop off being a Gossip columnist for a trade paper in Hollywood.) She told me that she considered getting a little ticket book and when she made her rounds of the city finding girls to marry off, giving TICKETS to Stupid women who do Dumb Things.
I learned from her and have become a real hand slapper. Young, beautiful girls who have unlimited futures and who are ruining their lives with their dumb tactics -- get corrected by me. I’m a realist. I'm telling you how it is out there. I truly believe that when you have the correct maps you can devise the correct strategy. I'm here to guide you, keep you from making mistakes. And boy, do I see the mistakes. In my work as the fortuneteller for this Hollywood Matchmaker I have seen a thousand girls a year, up close, seen their errors, heard their tales of woe, sometimes re-educated them and sent them off to become the wives of very rich men but mostly not. Why not?
Olympic trainers say all the time that they'd rather have a girl who's never even been on a bar or sawhorse so they don't have to break them of bad habits. I don't have it that lucky. I not only had to break a lot of bad habits, I had to break obsessive patterns that were so sick and demented and deeply carved in their habit patterns that you'd be shocked. To hear about them and shocked that I could repeat them. But who said I'm a lady? I'm going to share them with you, now. Shall we make a list?
The TEN DEADLIEST SINS A WOMAN CAN DO.
#1 FIRST DEADLY SIN -- or, HOW NOT TO GET INVITED TO THE PALACE, CINDERELLA. We all read the story of Cinderella. Where does it say that on the first night, somewhere between the glass slipper and the pumpkin, she got knocked up? It doesn't say that. It couldn't. Getting impregnated by the Prince is not only against nature, it is 100% irresponsible. It's unforgivable, as you're cursing a living human kid to 9 months of agony inside your grieving, rejected, terrified stomach, putting the baby’s hormones in a permanent cinch, then at BIRTH cursing the child to being unwanted by life and last, DESPISED by an angry, resentful shotgun father!
Amazingly enough, stupid women attempt this nasty trick all the time. They do it when the potential father is very rich and powerful and oh yes. Did I mention? They do it when they're super stupid.
SHOT GUN PATRIMONY is a huge life-and-death risk! One chance in a million you'll get the arrow through that wedding ring at a thousand meters. Generally, the fouled shot creates a horrific downside. You will end up maiming the mind of a very intelligent sensitive kid (obviously, cuz that father's rich, smart and powerful!) You will poison that child with an immense load of personal sorrow and with all of that --- chances are you will not nail the Tycoon. So don't even go there.
Elizabeth Hurley, the most beautiful girl in the world today did this to Stephen Bing -- Mr Bing (which rhymes with Sing which rhymes with BLING ) who denied before the world that it was his. Published a list of her other pals. Liz got the DNA of all of them, proved in court that Bing did the Thing. And Devilish Liz pulls out the evidence, winks at the judge while her other boyfriends parade down the aisle and give blood and Liz wins in court. Know why? Cuz DNA rhymes with "PAY" She and the beautiful son Demian who is the replica of the father will have the grinding lifetime of sorrow that parental rejection is and oh yes, some bucks to wipe their tears with. Good thing she named him Demian the Omen. Gives him something to live up to at least.
In the musical ANNIE GET YOUR GUN, they sing 'You can't get a man with a gun." That means shot gun. You can't nail a HUBBY with a baby. Most men feel about a baby as they do about measles. It's on their Christmas list of a hundred things they'd LOVE to have, one day, but this one is just a little below the measles. They don't want CHILDREN.
Stupid Women don't understand that of course, because they want a baby. Girls, think for a second: Did you ever see a boy child play with a baby doll? NO. Doesn't that tell you something? Men play with guns that shoot stuff out. That's what they want to play with.
And as they do shoot things out, today rich guys who feel they might be shotgun targets all use rubbers. OK so ladies are smart. They thought they could outwit them and began taking the spent rubber home after the party, using a turkey baster and impregnating themselves. So what did the rich bachelors in Hollywood start doing? They all began to keep a bottle of Tabasco sauce by the bed to douse the interior of the rubber before they threw it away. Marlon Brando needed a dozen bottles of Tabasco sauce with that resourceful Guatemalan maid he had. Til the day he died he was making payments to her for the last five of his 32 kids.
SECOND DEADLIEST SIN - PUTTING ROMANCE OVER FINANCE
Bonding early even when he has not. DO NOT GET AHEAD of him in the LOST IN LOVE LINE. No Jonesing for the guy, putting out too easily for guys with nothing to offer. Girls say, Anita, how can you know? Maybe he’s the hero of tomorrow. Well if he is, there are signs today. Those signs are available for 30$ online. It’s called a credit report. I can’t tell you how many girls I know who’ve been snookered by guys with phony claims of a big career, who in the end had to borrow hundreds or thousands from the GIRL for some great career opportunity. And the girls bit down on all this phony seductive criminality! So, hold off on getting involved. Investigate his behavior, test him, see if he's good tempered, generous or maybe pathologically jealous, a stalker. Or someone with no career at all. Because when they lie to you and you find out, then they have to kill you. Yep. You know about Scott Peterson. He killed Stacy and her unborn child because she found out the truth. He wasn’t in Med School. LIES. The point is: No more bonding early. If you're Jonsesing for the guy, get a vibrator and watch Sean Connery Movies. GET OFF the horn with some porn. Do anything but keep your pulse slow, your eyes on reality and your palate clear.
A single dating girl is something like a coffee taster at the Bean factory. You take one sip, gargle, see if there's aroma, richness, warmth, and then you spit. You rinse your mouth with water. You try another grind, another bean, a little Kenya, rinse spit. Maybe a little Blue Mountain. You Rinse and spit. Rinse spit. That is your new mantra. Date rinse spit. DO NOT give the third sample back a moment of thought. And what else is, GO HOME AND DRINK TEA. NO getting addicted. No taking home FREE SAMPLES.
The reason Why is cuz girls get badly hooked by good sex. You can lose a lot of good years on a good man. Well, you can lose more good years on a bad man and frankly there is no bad sex. Even if it's no bell-ringing sex, it's still some great cuddling and the guy is all over you. You're wanted. WORSE is if it's GOOD sex and bells ARE ringing, you're hooked for years. He could be raping nuns and you'll loyally be jonesing over him and making his breakfast before he left to go out on a day of foul play and waiting for him to return so you could jump him. That's how loyal women are. We're like an automatic wind-up monkey that can't stop ringing that cymbal. KNOW that you are THAT automatic and avoid having any man turn your key fully. Stay distant. That doesn't mean stay on the shelf. It means date rinse and spit*. Don't get attached.
(*wine taster terminology)
THE PRICE IS IMPORTANT. THE PRICE IS NEGOTIABLE. BUT…Never try to put a price on what you're already giving away for free. Cuz you can’t. You can’t take back the years, calories, juice and tears you spent on that guy. There’s no REFUND at the Love Gate over at the back door of Heaven.
Think of it as a rodeo. Woman pitted against BULL. Once your lariat is out and it misses, and you don’t trip and catch the bull, that bull catches your l’il rope in his horns and runs. Not only are you pulled out of the only saddle you have, you’re outta rope, kiddo. Good luck catching the next rodeo. You’re laid up in double body casts and crutches.
Maybe Rodeo is too vigorous a metaphor. Think of a man as a shopping expedition. Women pay huge amounts of money, love and time on a suit they have never really got the feel of. Maybe they tried it on for a second or two. Now that’s dumb. You spent a lot of time to earn that hundred dollars and now it’s blown. What is your precious time except money? Money lost, money gone downstream, unrecoverable. Get to know the suit before you buy it. You get to know it by wearing it out once or twice. I had a girlfriend who could never tell in the store if the suit was going to work for her. The department store always let her put it on a credit card, she’d wrap it up and take it home and wear it to a few parties, business meetings with the tag in her sleeve. If people didn’t comment favorably, if she didn’t feel kill in it, she’d return the suit and get her money back.
It's slinky but women are creatures of whim and will VERY CAREFULLY tread into moral ‘GRAY’ areas ---if they’re only slightly slinky and if it’s for the Good of God and Country! Anyway, my stylish chum knew how to wear those little perspiration pads you pin inside the sleeves under her arms and she’d hide the tag way up in the sleeve when she tested it out. So she had thoroughly test marketed that suit by the time VISA was going through.
If she did ALL this for a hundred dollar suit, how much more careful should we be, and how much MORE should we do a test run on the man we let into our hearts, bed and baby nursery! Kick the tires, take it around the block a few times. See what your girlfriends say. If one of them reports he hit on her, that’s a useful thing to know. TEST DRIVE your boyfriends without getting emotionally involved too fast. That’s my point. The RUTHLESS RULES. Where TRUTH RULES!
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