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Relationship & Gender DiscussionTHIS SPACE OPEN FOR ADVERTISEMENT. YOU SHOULD BE ADVERTISING HERE! The thin line between love and hate
Mature discussion about understanding the opposite sex...
I just read this and was amazed not only by the words, also by the style of writing and the contrast in the style when delivering the argument, the concluding paragraph is really powerful as well and I'm sure a lot of us can relate to it...
An original piece by Charles Warnke that, at its heart, urges one not to settle but to embrace life and the challenges of a good woman.
“Date a girl who doesn’t read. Find her in the weary squalor of a Midwestern bar. Find her in the smoke, drunken sweat, and varicolored light of an upscale nightclub. Wherever you find her, find her smiling. Make sure that it lingers when the people that are talking to her look away. Engage her with unsentimental trivialities. Use pick-up lines and laugh inwardly. Take her outside when the night overstays its welcome. Ignore the palpable weight of fatigue. Kiss her in the rain under the weak glow of a streetlamp because you’ve seen it in a film. Remark at its lack of significance. Take her to your apartment. Dispatch with making love. Fuck her.
Let the anxious contract you’ve unwittingly written evolve slowly and uncomfortably into a relationship. Find shared interests and common ground like sushi and folk music. Build an impenetrable bastion upon that ground. Make it sacred. Retreat into it every time the air gets stale or the evenings too long. Talk about nothing of significance. Do little thinking. Let the months pass unnoticed. Ask her to move in. Let her decorate. Get into fights about inconsequential things like how the fucking shower curtain needs to be closed so that it doesn’t fucking collect mold. Let a year pass unnoticed. Begin to notice.
Figure that you should probably get married because you will have wasted a lot of time otherwise. Take her to dinner on the forty-fifth floor at a restaurant far beyond your means. Make sure there is a beautiful view of the city. Sheepishly ask a waiter to bring her a glass of champagne with a modest ring in it. When she notices, propose to her with all of the enthusiasm and sincerity you can muster. Do not be overly concerned if you feel your heart leap through a pane of sheet glass. For that matter, do not be overly concerned if you cannot feel it at all. If there is applause, let it stagnate. If she cries, smile as if you’ve never been happier. If she doesn’t, smile all the same.
Let the years pass unnoticed. Get a career, not a job. Buy a house. Have two striking children. Try to raise them well. Fail frequently. Lapse into a bored indifference. Lapse into an indifferent sadness. Have a mid-life crisis. Grow old. Wonder at your lack of achievement. Feel sometimes contented, but mostly vacant and ethereal. Feel, during walks, as if you might never return or as if you might blow away on the wind. Contract a terminal illness. Die, but only after you observe that the girl who didn’t read never made your heart oscillate with any significant passion, that no one will write the story of your lives, and that she will die, too, with only a mild and tempered regret that nothing ever came of her capacity to love.
Do those things, god damnit, because nothing sucks worse than a girl who reads. Do it, I say, because a life in purgatory is better than a life in hell. Do it, because a girl who reads possesses a vocabulary that can describe that amorphous discontent of a life unfulfilled—a vocabulary that parses the innate beauty of the world and makes it an accessible necessity instead of an alien wonder. A girl who reads lays claim to a vocabulary that distinguishes between the specious and soulless rhetoric of someone who cannot love her, and the inarticulate desperation of someone who loves her too much. A vocabulary, goddamnit, that makes my vacuous sophistry a cheap trick.
Do it, because a girl who reads understands syntax. Literature has taught her that moments of tenderness come in sporadic but knowable intervals. A girl who reads knows that life is not planar; she knows, and rightly demands, that the ebb comes along with the flow of disappointment. A girl who has read up on her syntax senses the irregular pauses—the hesitation of breath—endemic to a lie. A girl who reads perceives the difference between a parenthetical moment of anger and the entrenched habits of someone whose bitter cynicism will run on, run on well past any point of reason, or purpose, run on far after she has packed a suitcase and said a reluctant goodbye and she has decided that I am an ellipsis and not a period and run on and run on. Syntax that knows the rhythm and cadence of a life well lived.
Date a girl who doesn’t read because the girl who reads knows the importance of plot. She can trace out the demarcations of a prologue and the sharp ridges of a climax. She feels them in her skin. The girl who reads will be patient with an intermission and expedite a denouement. But of all things, the girl who reads knows most the ineluctable significance of an end. She is comfortable with them. She has bid farewell to a thousand heroes with only a twinge of sadness.
Don’t date a girl who reads because girls who read are storytellers. You with the Joyce, you with the Nabokov, you with the Woolf. You there in the library, on the platform of the metro, you in the corner of the café, you in the window of your room. You, who make my life so goddamned difficult. The girl who reads has spun out the account of her life and it is bursting with meaning. She insists that her narratives are rich, her supporting cast colorful, and her typeface bold. You, the girl who reads, make me want to be everything that I am not. But I am weak and I will fail you, because you have dreamed, properly, of someone who is better than I am. You will not accept the life of which I spoke at the beginning of this piece. You will accept nothing less than passion, and perfection, and a life worthy of being told. So out with you, girl who reads. Take the next southbound train and take your Hemingway with you. Or, perhaps, stay and save my life. ”
— Charles Warnke (via Thought Catalog)
Couldn't think of any other sub-forum to post it in.
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[03-07, 03:26] Yodamaster - The feeling when you quickly insert without hitting the sides
I thought the prose was written in phrases like a grammatically-challenged writer to somehow point out the irony of the writer arguing for dating illiterate girls... BUT...
The last 7 words (phrase) is like BAM!
That is the point of the entire article/piece/short-phrase-essay: the good woman is an intelligent one that can share your life with and one whom you can talk with and relate to in good times and in bad times.
I thought the prose was written in phrases like a grammatically-challenged writer to somehow point out the irony of the writer arguing for dating illiterate girls... BUT...
The last 7 words (phrase) is like BAM!
That is the point of the entire article/piece/short-phrase-essay: the good woman is an intelligent one that can share your life with and one whom you can talk with and relate to in good times and in bad times.
It's interesting that you say that because the original ending is:
I hate you. I really, really, really hate you.
^^^ I think the original ending doesn't really change the main point of the piece that much, if you really think about it. The author basically said that even with the challenges of dating an intelligent girl that doesn't settle for less, he still wanted to go through with those things because in the end, a girl that reads gives him the opportunity to become a better man himself. Like how we sometimes say to our girlfriends "I hate you!", but with a hint of love and playfulness in its delivery.
if i had to pick between a super model that was stupid, or super smart... i'd pick the super smart super model.
given they have to be super hot just to be considered. LOL.
beauty is standard quality before being considered, it's not even on the list. it's just by default.
intelligence is first on the list after you qualify to be considered... dumb or ugly... i wouldn't choose either, they both suck. if you have beauty and intelligence, you wouldn't be worried about knocking down dumb girls because no guys go after you cuz you're too smart. you're probably just not pretty.
if i had to pick between a super model that was stupid, or super smart... i'd pick the super smart super model.
given they have to be super hot just to be considered. LOL.
beauty is standard quality before being considered, it's not even on the list. it's just by default.
intelligence is first on the list after you qualify to be considered... dumb or ugly... i wouldn't choose either, they both suck. if you have beauty and intelligence, you wouldn't be worried about knocking down dumb girls because no guys go after you cuz you're too smart. you're probably just not pretty.
You must be Marco911 and Xilley's love child.
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Originally Posted by Godzira
Does anyone know how many to a signature?
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Originally Posted by Brianrietta
Not a sebberry post goes by where I don't frown and think to myself "so..?"
I think both dumb and smart have their pros and cons.
I dated a girl who was quite smart. She was going to university while I was the drop out. Even though she's always putting in the smart input and whatever, I'm always there making the dumb one, making hers look really dumb. Basically just always trolling her ass while she's always trying to act mature. Eventually she became very submissive and pretends to be mad when I do that and we'd hit it off. I would always try to prove her wrong, and when I do, it's very rewarding. But when I don't, I would look like a fool trying to make her laugh. Just gotta know when to drop the ego and pride and really admit that I am the fool for trying to prove her wrong, which sorta boost her ego and I'd let her have the spotlight.
A dumb girl I dated, well she's not dumb dumb, but she's not very knowledgeable. She'd always ask questions about space and stars and stuff, and I'd make up silly stories about how stars explodes and become a haven where we can go to when we die and shit. There are times I can tell she know I was bullshitting but she would play along and talk about "us" in the story. It was really fun.
So if you think smart, literate girls don't like to fuck dumb guys, it's not true. Maybe if you define "dumb" as in going to a police station and doing stupid shit and get arrested. Girls see guys through what they're capable of doing to make the moment or night "memorable", I don't think you need education for that.
There are no principles, there are only events. There is no good and bad, there are only circumstances. The superior espouses events and circumstances in order to guide them.
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