Archives

All posts for the month November, 2010

The Art of Peacocking

Published November 20, 2010 by Tabby

Many people praise humankind as the most evolved and sophisticated life form on this planet. Always doubtful of that statement, this last weekend I received further affirmation that we really haven’t evolved as much as some would like to think, especially when it comes to modern day mating rituals. Welcome to the art of peacocking.

When in a social atmosphere of mixed genders, typically the men and women separate. As attraction occurs, the reversal of evolution ensues.

Whe women go to a club with a group of friends, they mostly just want to dance. Can we do that without a bodyguard? No. And I’ll tell you why.

As women are enjoying themselves together on the dance floor, the men start to gather and surround the area. They get this determined look, like they are selecting which type of TapOut or Affliction shirt to purchase, or which Axe man-spray they can marinate in. Many change their stance. (I call this the man-stand). They cross their arms to have that oh-so-careless look while checking that they can flex their biceps. (For a good example-think of Uncle Rico on Napoleon Dynamite.)

As they hover like lions gazing at nearby gazelle’s, they analyze each woman. Slowly. Once they’ve made their selection, they stare for a while more. Then they make their move. Cleverly, they sneak up behind their prey, and just start dancing behind them. After the woman is aware of the male’s presence, or is just trying to ignore the creepy guy hoping that he’ll go away, the guy grabs her by the hips and starts to grind. Either he attacks her from behind where she can’t get away unassisted, or he assaults her from the front, looking intense-like that will make her realize what a studly guy she has.

To get out of this really awkward and disgusting situation, a woman has to either tactically dance/maneuver between two friends and hope the guy can take a hint, cleverly assault his manlihood, or what I recommend, having a personal bodyguard (i.e. good friend) step in.

The presence of competition also inspires primal actions, and is where the name “peacocking” comes from. Upon accessing competition, whether it be from fellow single males or an apparent boyfriend/bodyguard, the men start to puff out their chests, walk with a swagger, (constipated penguin) and flex their arm muscles. This is similar to how males peacocks puff out their tail feathers to attract  females and warn other males. How our species has come so far.

So, for the educational portion of this blog: listen up guys. Peacocking is not a good game plan. Staring at me like a stalker while I have a good time with friends doesn’t make me like you. Grabbing me and assaulting me with your denim happy boy parts doesn’t make me like you. Threatening a male friend/boyfriend doesn’t make me like you. Lastly, watching yourself flex, puffing your chest out, and walking like a constipated penguin doesn’t make me like you. In closing, for those peacocks out there, I don’t like you.

Thank  you.

(originally written 11/5/2010)

Advertisements

Signs Things Are Getting Better

Published November 15, 2010 by Tabby

Okay, so I’ve been into trying new things and personal growth lately. I’ve decided to do something radically different and actually post a happy blog. It won’t be as entertaining as my usual bitter-ray-of-sunshine revelations, but happiness is a new existence for me. (Also supports my theory that the best albums are those written by heartbroken musicians). Don’t worry, I will still continue my usual writings, but a few rays of genuine sunshine may poke through occasionally. Ever hear the expression “the only way to go from here is up?” Well I’ve been in “the only place to go from here is happy.” This is my naked portrayal of the process. To my muse: I promised I would post this, here you are. Thank you.

Signs Things Are Getting Better:

Daydreaming becomes not having to create dreams but just reliving the previous day.

Music again holds a strong meaning. Not as a way to survive, but a way to celebrate.

Before I felt like I couldn’t breathe, now I bask in delicious gulps of air-so much I feel lightheaded.

Instead of the nagging thoughts keeping me up, it’s excitement, laughter, and good times.

Instead of numbly floating through the day, everything warrants appreciation and has meaning.

Every day is a celebration.

I wonder why my face hurts and I realize it’s because I’ve been smiling all day.

My friends and family no longer worry if I don’t immediately answer calls and emails-they now see it as a good sign.

I look forward to going home, putting the Ipod on, and daydreaming.

Love songs no longer cause abuse to my radio.

I’ve become a bit of a restless daredevil-wanting to see all aspects of life and take risks.

My long lost friend Sleep made a reappearance.

Now that I can sleep, I don’t want to miss a second of being awake.

Restlessness is a curse. Why sit still when you can go out and live?

I can now get fully dressed and ready (in nice clothes, not yoga pants) in 30 minutes…if another person wants to see me.

I haven’t worn yoga pants regularly in a month.

Heaters are no longer necessary. 😉

It’s harder and harder to get out of bed in the morning but for good  reasons.

Bridal commercials no longer cause two days of resentment and a need of yoga. Instead they inspire a kind of morbid curiosity.

When my friends get married, instead of feeling worried or sorry for them, I’m genuinely happy for them.

When I can stand to let people in enough to know what city I live in.

Throwing caution to the wind.

When I break all my regular habits…on my own.

People continuously say that I’m glowing and I wonder if I’ve turned into a glowworm.

Everything is like the first time, and I can remember the thrills before the lessons learned.

I once again toy with the idea that things could work out someday. Even for me.

I don’t have to meticulously plan the future because I am happy with today.

I actually genuinely smile and laugh out loud.

I don’t have to fake happiness.

I’m ready to take on the world again.

I feel alive. I am alive.

%d bloggers like this: