Archive for the 'Dating' category

Pareto Calculates the Love Quotient


Italian economist Vilfredo Pareto first noted that 80 percent of the wealth in Italy, was held by 20 percent of the people. Since his observations, the 80/20 rule has been applied to nearly everything involving humans.

20 percent of the people you work with cause 80 percent of the aggravation of going to work. 20 percent of the movies coming out of Hollywood are worth seeing, and they rack up 80 percent of all theatre showings. 80 percent of the people in a restaurant will order only the most popular 20 percent of items on the menu. You get the idea.

Pareto’s principle is EVERYWHERE. But, as far as I know, I’m the first to apply it to women.

Men, in general, don’t understand women. And men generally accept that. But every now and then, a woman comes along that makes perfect sense. In fact, you find that you enjoy talking to her as much as you enjoy sneaking a peek down her blouse. (Yes, sometimes, life IS good).

So here’s the theory: if you believe you could enjoy any woman’s company at least 80 percent of the time, she’s one of the 20 percent worth keeping.

Discuss People you’d find attractive in the forum.

National Underwear Day


Today is National Underwear Day. Which immediately prompts the question, do you wear any?

Not wearing drawers is usually referred to as “going commando,” a reference to an old military custom of free balling while in uniform.

But, soldiers have a solid, practical reason.

Standard issue military underwear is made of cotton, which soaks up sweat and holds it like SpongeBob on steroids. Carry a backpack for a few kilometers of jungle, or desert while walking in sweat soaked underthings and your crotch gets rubbed raw.

I suspect this results in reduced enthusiasm for fighting.

A bevy of young ladies interviewed by the New York Post for National Underwear Day opined they were more comfortable when they were able to let their nether regions breathe. They also claimed that it was one less thing to think about when getting dressed.

Ladies, I’m all for keeping it simple. Women normally over think these things. Men simply look for things to eat, and things to blow up. Women seem compelled to find the number of fat grams are in each bag of Dorritos, and to obsess over exactly the right frillies to wear on a first date. But, I digress.
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Thanks for the Memories


Memory. It’s a pernicious thing.

For one thing, it’s selective. We summon up specific memories to reinforce our current moods - which is the reason for the classic “I love you, I hate you” 2am drunken booty call. We somehow forget that she was a certified loon, and only manage to remember that she was ready to try anything… at least once.

But for every time a recollection makes us smile, there’s that other one. The one we can’t seem to shake. The one that revolves around the dumbass thing we said when our subconscious became unguarded for just that small fraction of a second that it took to verbalize the dumbass thing.

And the worst part is that once the words are out there, they never go away. Those words, even when forgiven, hang suspended in memory for eternity.
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You Know the Question, Don’t You?


\I’m convinced that women have no why men are drawn to them.

Do they worry about their worst features, concerned that every man dwells on the parts of a woman he finds unattractive? Or, do women assume that by asking the proverbial question, they can find a way to show off their best asset while simultaneously fishing for complements, and do all that under the guise of asking advice?

And the worst part is, as a guy, there’s never a correct answer.

You could try being reassuring. “Why, no Dear, not at all. Don’t give it another thought. You look wonderful.” Of course, she’ll accuse you of only trying to stay on her good side.

Then there’s the honesty ploy. “Well, now that you mention it, I’ve been meaning to ask you how you felt about it, ’cause I have noticed that they’re fitting a bit more snugly than they used to.” That answer is guaranteed to have you still begging come Christmas.
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