Women are fucking crazy for a number of reasons. Many factors play a role but... Here's the largest.
Women. Need. Fucking. Closure.
We don't do well with that whole "He's just not that into you" bullshit thing. We don't do well with "I just don't feel it" Or... even worse... When we get blown off? Done. You're fucking done.
Here's the catch. We can say that shit to you. It makes sense then. But women cannot fathom the idea that we aren't good enough. It can literally kill us.
Blowing off a woman... The gloves are off. Maybe you didn't know but women are all actually ninjas. We are FBI ninjas. Trained. To. Be. Psycho.
It's in our blood. When we sleep, there's a little fucking projector that plays psycho creepy shit behind our eyelids. We can find your new phone number, your hidden facebook page, and your mother's house. And we will make friends with her. And you can't tell your mom why she can't be friends with us because then you'd have to tell your mother you fucked some girl then left her out to dry.
Barbara don't like that! Barbara done raised her boy better than that!
Often I try to say that it's not a woman thing or a man thing, it's a people thing. But in this case? It's very much a difference of sexes.
Along with peeing standing up, this is something I envy about men.
The ability to brush it off.
Ooooohhhh how I LONG to have the superhero power to brush it the fuck off, and move on!!
But alas. I have a fucking vagina. Despite how cool and laid back I am... I have a lot of these obnoxious tendencies. As long as a guy is open and honest with me... It's all good! But the moment I feel brushed off... It's fucking on. Suddenly I'm twitching. I'm distracted. I'm self conscious. And I'm PISSED. I can't let it die.
We get so angry!!!!
Why? I'll fuckin tell you.
Women have incredible imaginations. We really do. But here's the problem. We start imagining things are happening. Possible happenings. This results in anger, and poor decisions. I give you the song "Before He Cheats" By Carrie Underwood. There are literally no facts in that song except the fact that she's going all ape shit crazy, carving her name into his car and shit because she THINKS he's PROBABLY cheating. Gentleman? You may not know this.. But you can break our hearts without having done anything. But, to be fair, we do give you the benefit of the doubt to start..
For example.
Scenario: A woman cannot get in contact with her feller.
" Maybe he's not near his phone."
Time passes. Nothing.
"Well.. Maybe he's out of service!"
Time passes.
"His phone must be dead... But.. it didn't go straight to voicemail..."
Time passes.
"Oh god! Maybe he's dead!"
Time passes
"I better check facebook..."
Time passes.
"... Who the fuck is Kimberly?!!??!!!??!??!?!!?!!!?!? It's WINTER! Why is she in a BIKINI!?!?!"
Time passes
"HE'S HAVING AN AFFAIR WITH KIMBERLY BECAUSD SHE'S HOT AND I'M AVERAGE AND HE'S WITH HER RIGHT NOW LAUGHING AT MY TEXT MESSAGES AND MISSED CALLS AND MY NON SEXY PROFILE PICTURE AND MY FACE AND MY LIFE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
*fin*
So we dwell on this until we hear back from you with an explanation. And even then.. we're hurt. Even though you didn't actually DO anything except take your mother grocery shopping and leave your cell in the car.
This is why I'm big on communication. The guessing/worrying game is exhausting.
Women sometimes still have that worry instinct. That motherly protector thing. Combine that with EVERYONE'S lack of trust now a days.. add time... 2 parts FBI ninja = Kimberly BJ special.
When we do this? The "other" (imaginary) woman is always flawless. Perfect. Exactly what we want to be. Her house is always perfect. She dresses right, and has the perfect snack available. She's smart AND funny... She's nice... and has no idea about me. She goes running.. has a good job... good car... comes from a good family. Everything.
We go through phases:
Shock!
Pissed!!!!!!
Hurt..!
Confused!
Understanding.
...acceptance
.... misery.....
ice cream.
To my knowledge... We can't help it. Maybe I'm completely wrong in this. Maybe this is MY experience and no one else's... In which case, I had better get another cat.
We beat ourselves up. Literally, over nothing. As strong as you can be, nothing makes you feel quite so weak than having put yourself through something as stupid and nonsensical as the above scenario.
Then after all that? You're the one who feels guilt.
Fuck.
You trust? You get hurt. You don't trust? You hurt yourself.
Catch 69.
Guys.. we don't want to be psycho. But we've all got a little bit of it in us. We don't like it any more than you do. If you can trust anything in this world... Trust that.
Let's make a pact. Guys? Cut us ladies some slack on the psycho. Ladies? Let's cut guys a break with the toilet seat thing. Seriously. They have to lift it TO piss because of us... We shouldn't have a problem lowering it after them.
Except at night.
Fucking ass bath...
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