Little boys go home alone

Let’s talk about boys who are keeping their options open. Avoid them. They may disguise themselves as awkward, shy and clueless. Awwww so endearing you think. They are none of those things. That’s their game. Real men go after women they attracted to. They wanna nail that shit down. Boys hedge their bets. Juuust in case. They work the room like they are the man, but they almost always go home alone. They are the boy. Don’t get me wrong, boys aren’t bad guys, they just have some growing-up to do. Pick-up the wing man. The guy who kinda hangs back a bit. Who is not completely hammered. You’ll recognize the wing man as he is often seen smirking while shaking his head at his friend. He is the real man.

Then, thank the boy for having such manly friends.

"Man"ipulation

By special request: “how to manipulate men through BBM statuses”. This is a fine and effective art that is far too underutilized in my view. This works for a variety of situations: making exes jealous, messaging to a new man, etc, you see where I’m going.

Helpful how to status hints:

1. Be completely and utterly vague. The crap the male mind can dream up is waaaay more detailed and devastating then anything you can write.

2. Use symbols. A heart, hug or kiss will have him wondering who the eff you are sleeping with.

3. Use leading phrases. My personal favourite. This one is warranty guaranteed. You are simply leading him down a road of jumping to conclusions. You are happy! Enthusiastic! “And so it begins!”, “big things popping!” and anything with the word change: “a time of change!” Worriesome.

4. A new hot pic. You are sexy, fun and doing amazingly interesting things. It also never hurts to have a slice of a man in the pic. A blurry face, half a body, buff arm, merely suggests you may, or may not be, with a handsome, successful MAN not boy.

WARNING: Use sparingly or you run the risk of it being painfully obvious that the craziest part of your Saturday night is the new flavour of Smartfood and a Channing Tatum movie (we have all been there).

Warning. This is a rant. It is a crime against fashion. I will only say this once I promise.
Leggings. Are. Not. Pants. 
I don't care if you are wearing a garbage bag on top, just as long as it covers your ass and your legging camel toe. Think of it as a public service.
Not pants ladies. Not.

I've kinda shocked myself in deciding to write a blog. But if shit can happen, it is going to happen to me. After hearing my friends say for the hundredth time, "you've gotta write this shit down" or "you really should write a book". I thought what the hell. So this is me, a single, smart, hot girl in the city (I know, I love Carrie, so don't judge), and all the crap that happens when I'm not shoe shopping.

PS lots of love to the fabulous brunette without which this blog would not be possible. *hugs*

PPS apologies in advance to my friends. I will totally blog about your dating lives. Of course, protecting the identities of the beautiful.