I apologize, but I feel obligated to discuss some of my personal experiences in female interaction. I’m a keen observer of human behaviour and I enjoy drawing concrete conclusions for why females act the way they do. I also don’t like presenting a new concept without referencing excerpts from my daily encounters with women. It seems lately that whenever I approach a girl, whether the conversations lasts 10 seconds or 10 minutes, there is a lesson to be learned or a message to be drawn.
Her friends, what I like to call the deal breakers, are essentially this external force driving or profusely influencing a female’s perception of you. For example, I was sitting with a friend on campus the other day, and I saw an attractive girl who fit a lot of the physical qualities I admire.
Let’s call her Tina. I felt a personal obligation to approach her and see if she may be interested in chatting some time. Before I did that, though, I sat relatively close to her so at least this time the girl can get comfortable with my presence. It also helped that I caught her peeking at me a few times. All the reason to go over and say “hi,” right?
A few seconds before we were about to part to our respective classes I told my friend to sit tight because I wanted to see if I might be able to get her co-ordinates for a future rendezvous. My particular friend would prove to be very beneficial later on and in fact became the inspiration for this post. I gently and slowly went up to her, as she sat there with her friend looking over Facebook profiles.
Let’s call her friend Amber. I interrupted them politely and said along these lines, “I was just sitting over there and I thought you were pretty and I was wondering if we could hang out some time perhaps in a similar setting and get better acquainted.”
As she sat there astounded as to what was transpiring, her unimpressed friend abruptly interrupted us instantly and decided that she would speak on her behalf. Amber basically affirmed that Tina was seeing someone, and that Tina wouldn’t be interested. Amber stared me down as if I had just committed the biggest sin.
Within a single heartbeat she had disapproved of me and I wasn’t sure what I did to warrant her displeasure. I decided to take it to another level, because I could fathom through Tina’s body language that she was welcoming and at least a bit intrigued in me, therefore I suggested that she take down my number in case the guy she’s seeing turns out to be a total jerk. She laughed and agreed, so I went over, wrote down my number, and handed it to her.
As I turned back I realized that I didn’t get Tina’s name, so I asked for it, and politely asked for her friend’s name who was hesitant to respond. The entire time her friend seemed displeased with what was happening, and because I was overtaken by her attitude couldn’t even remember what her name was.
Amber sat there in distaste either through jealousy or disapproval with me, and I had no idea why. I explored all the options of why Amber disapproved. Maybe she just didn’t like the way I combed my hair. I was still convinced that my routine and encounter with them was pretty flawless. It was once again, baffling.
Luckily however, this time I had my French friend with me who picked up on something as we detached ourselves from the two girls and headed toward the door. They, thinking that we could not speak French, at least one of us, spoke about what happened in their mother tongue.
According to the translation of my friend, who is extremely proficient in French, Amber was unimpressed with what just happened and tried to prevent Tina from even taking me into consideration. All the while, Tina stated that she thought that I was interesting. Me… interesting… no way! I guess there is hope!
So it leaves me to think that girls are not entirely making their own decisions. Their friends influence and appoint their appropriate male matches.
Girls often feel the pressure to choose someone who their friends will approve of, regardless if the guy is perfect by their own standards.
Girls think that because a guy is confident enough to approach them that he does it often, and conclude that the guy is a player. In reality though, that isn’t the case, and men are primarily trying to get to know people in similar social settings (university) where they feel comfortable, and if things work out, perhaps they’ll find enough things in common to go out on a date sometime.
I’m not sure why the guard is always up, when the majority of the time we’re sincere, down-to-earth guys trying to build lasting relationships, whether that be as friends or lovers. And if you’re not interested, just say it, and I can only hope that a guy doesn’t take it personally and has the decency to leave you be and let you find your alpha male.
I find that if you do not fit into this positive social consensus, there is a strong inclination that you are likely to be filtered out. The problem is that the girls are basing assumptions on the immediate interaction, predominantly on your physical appearance, your tone of voice, thus expelling you on superficial premises. I’m not saying that there should be no level of attraction, but I strongly believe that men in this day in age are aware of which girls are in their league, either pursuant on their level of attractiveness or what they have to offer through their personality.
However, this entire ordeal of soul searching is contingent on the approval of her friends, who may even have the power to immediately make the girl dread the day she met you. How is this at all fair? Since when did we stop making our own decisions?
How about, if for once, her friends put aside their unproductive opinions and support their friend as well as the brave fellow stepping forth. Make positive comments about what the guy has to offer rather than automatically ruling him out, and staring him down to make him feel all the more insecure. Say one nice thing at least, rather than just focusing on the negatives, which are likely only inferred through subjective assumptions. When did we all become such cynics and critics?
Note: Cibo is not the author’s real name. It is an alias for a Carleton alumnus.