Ladies, have you ever noticed this pattern? You’re preparing to exit a social setting, ready to go home. You hug all the girls, make a round of waves, and head for the door and down the street alone. All of a sudden, a guy appears, offering to insure you get home safely.
“Let me walk you to your car” … “Do you need a ride home?”
But are guys doing that because they genuinely care about our safety — wanting to walk us through the dark parking garage, or drive us home safely (even though we’re more sober than they are?) — or do they just want to create an opportunity to make a move?
When you guys see a girl walking alone, do your chivalrous instincts kick in to run over and be her knight on a white horse who will protect her from the evil villains on the city streets? Or do you see an opportunity? An opportunity to talk to her in a more private setting, without competing with the high volume of the music or her friends. An opportunity to try and kiss her or convince her to go home with you.
Is there always an ulterior motive, or is our appreciation to you for our safety reward enough? Not to discredit the nice guys, but these days I’m having trouble telling the heroes from the hornballs.
I ran into Victoria's Secret in Birkdale to meet the deadline for my free cotton panty coupon. For a moment, I thought I had taken a wrong turn and ended up in the Catholic church when I looked up to see a nun shopping in the store with me.
A nun ... in Victoria's Secret.
I was out on a date with this guy from the financial world, and we were having basic first date conversations.
Him: “What do you do for a living?”
Me: “I’m a writer.”
Him: “I know, but like, what do you do for a living?”
Me: "I am a writer.”
Him: “But like, how do you make money?”
Me: “I. Am. A. Writer.”
…is this guy stupid or just that corporate? I pondered on top of how I could end the date faster.
Him: “So how much do you make?”
Me: “Do you want to know how much I weigh, too?”
I told him, a mean estimate of my earnings as it varies month to month. His response …
Him: “That's it?! You could be making twice that if you worked in sales.”
Oh. No. He. Didn’t.
Have your pants ever been on fire? ... tell the truth.
I'll be honest: Though my pants have never actually been on fire, I have lied.
I was scheduled to work on a production for a show on USA filming here, starting early this Monday morning. But over the weekend, I was given an opportunity more important to me that would require me to quit this job, while the producer was traveling from L.A. to the East Coast. Not the most professional or polite thing to do, and normally I would have made up a lie to get out of it without looking bad or hindering this contact and connection.
But I figured it would be even more rude to lie, so I wrote him ...
Dear (dude from LA),
I want to tell you that I got some communicable disease, or that I need to get emergency surgery as that would be the only valid excuse for pulling out of the job last minute ... but that would be lying. Basically, I was offered a career and life-altering opportunity. But in order to actually attain it, I will have to leave town next week and thus not work on your job.
I am so, so sorry to do this to you, and I can only hope you can understand. I am as bummed about it as you are now inconvenienced.
Thanks Brittney, congrats on the opportunity and I do appreciate your honesty. I don’t get enough of that in L.A.
And the truth shall set you free (and not make you feel like such a bad person)!
This got me thinking about how often people use lies to repair the truth in order to avoid disappointing other people. How many excuses have you made up to get yourself out of something? Lying to parents, teachers, employers and the people we date to tell them what they want to hear, trying to paint the truth white with a lie. Sometimes lies have left my mouth before even filtering it, before my eyes could even gaze up to the right side of my brain to process the lie from the truth, making my lies believable, to even me.
That’s because the person I have lied to the most is myself.
"I am seriously considering getting a boob job. I am even saving up for one."
I originally said that as material in my stand-up act ... but I wasn't joking. Don't judge me — I don't want new boobs so I can impress guys. I merely want them so I don't scare them. You see, when you take my bullet-proof-airbag-padded bra off, Victoria's real Secret is revealed: they can turn an A cup into a C cup with their bras. And as a result, men think I am a witch with the magic ability to make my tits disappear. I even took off my bra at the Comedy Zone to display my little magic trick.
I used to be completely against remodeling God's work and being au-naturale, but that was before I became a Panthers cheerleader and they made me lose 10 pounds. The first place it left was my boobs. And so went my natural handful-C cups.
That is so not fair — when women lose weight, the first place it goes is their boobs. When men do, not only does their penis not shrink, but it appears larger.
When I stopped cheering and started eating again, my boobs grew a cup size, but left stretch marks.
That's right, I have an A cup with stretch marks on them. You see why I want to get a boob job?
On another, somewhat related note, the check engine light in my BMW comes on just for looking at it funny. Don't be fooled by the label: A Beamer is like buying a shirt from Neiman Marcus — it's brand name, but it unravels in the wash just like a cheap shirt from Forever 21. Just because their parts cost more does not make it a better vehicle; it's just a lemon in nice clothing.
And while men's penises don't shrink, they also only have to worry about replacing car parts rather than parts of their bodies. We don't expect them to get a penis implant or a ball tuck.
So why do I feel so insecure to want a boob job to feel good naked?
Though my fancy lemon with a check engine light is much like my body, getting old and breaking down, unlike my car, my body still runs perfectly without the extra parts. But it is nice to know that they can just lift my hood and replace my insecurities ... physically.
I wish NAPA knew how to make body parts in addition to car parts. But I must commend their store employees: They didn't say anything perverted when I marched in there and requested "studs for my rear" ... axle.
As for my boobs, while I can't really rationalize spurgling on new parts because I had to buy car parts, I will be taking itty bitty tit tips. I certainly can't put them on layaway.
But seriously, what do you all think? Are boob jobs a bad idea?
Speaking of texting and twatting during weddings, last week on Twitter I kept seeing “#vothwedding” trending. My first thought was, that a-hole (Charlotte WSOC sportscaster Bill Voth) didn’t invite me to his wedding. My second thought was, good cause I already have five weddings to attend this summer so that saves me money. And my third was, Is his wedding really trending on Twitter?
Sure enough, it was.
So I asked my tweep, @billvoth, how he got his wedding to be a trending topic.
BILL: Well, it wasn't really anything we did. Mike Solarte (@MikeSolarte), a sports broadcasting colleague of mine, got the ball rolling the morning of the wedding. He figured it would be something we'd enjoy. People then caught onto the hashtag and it kind of took off. It certainly helped that Gretchen and I are both social media dorks, but we weren't all that aware of what was going on. Neither of us did a lot of tweeting that day, which was hard for us. But that wasn’t a day to have the phone attached to the hip.
And I asked his trendy bride, @gretchenvoth: Every little girl dreams of their wedding day. But I imagine you never dreamt that you would be a trending topic on Twitter that day?
GRETCHEN: We never in our wildest dreams imagined we’d have such a talked-about wedding. I think it’s safe to say that making #vothwedding trend locally was one of the most unique gifts our friends and family could have given us.
So even though they didn’t invite me to their wedding, cheers to the #vothwedding.
And even though you won’t see #wedding trending for me anytime soon, you can follow me for fun. 'Cause I’m a twit: @brittneycason.
You've read the book or seen the movie, He's Just Not Into You (or at least heard of it). But what about the guy version? Guys deserve a translator for the foreign language that is women to them.
Just like I did the guy who thinks my Facebook is a Dear Abby website, I’m going to give you guys some more clues to help you determine whether she's into you, or not — so you can save your time, energy, and money.
1. If she applies no maintenance or make-up when she sees you, then she’s probably not that into you. Even the biggest tomboy will take a little more time on her hair and wardrobe when she knows she’s going to see a guy she likes. Sweatpants, hair tied, chillin' with no make-up on is what we do with our friends or long-term live-in boyfriends.
2. If she gets mad at you for slapping her butt, then she’s probably not that into you. If she shoots down any sort of physical advances, you have been sequestered to friend zone limbo.
3. If she doesn’t text you back right away, if at all, then she’s probably not that into you. Girls usually have their phones attached to their hip — we are aware when it vibrates, and we’re communicative punctual beings. If all you get are untimely, close-ended texts, you’re not in the forefront of our minds, or phones.
4. If she always makes excuses as to why she can’t hang out, then she’s probably not that into you. “I have to work." “It’s a girls' night.” “I’m tired.” "I have to wash my hair." If a girl wants to see you, she will find the time. And will be more willing to work around your schedule, rather than only see you when it's convenient for her and she has nothing else to do.
5. If you’re not the center of her attention, then she’s probably not that into you. If you're out and she’s talking to Joe Schmo and Wendy Whatsherface more than you, you’re just another face in the crowd. If we like you, we would go so far as to fight for your attention.
In third grade, I met this girl Shannon, and we found ourselves liking the same guy, Andrew. So we went about it by drawing ugly, taunting pictures of each other and hanging them up in the hallway at school. But even at the maturity level of third graders, we decided that no guy is worth fighting with another girl over, and we have been best friends since.
Then there was this other girl who grew up down the street from me. Every time I told her I liked a guy, she decided she liked him too. She would actively pursue him, and ultimately make out with him to get him to like her instead of me.
And ever since, I’ve only met girls like that throughout my life — my friends like Shannon and the frenemies like the slut next door.
Because I’ve learned there are two types of women in this world — those who know the boundaries when it comes to other women’s men, and those who cross them. Your teammates in life vs. your competitors.
So why do your “friends” try to keep you from winning? So they don’t feel like the losers they are, that’s why.
Because they’re so insecure they need to prove to themselves that they can get all the guys, including yours. By pushing you down, they feel higher up. But friendship is not a competitive sport: a true friend will celebrate your wins with you, not try to deflate you in order to inflate their ego.
We’ve all found ourselves in a classic case of the fake people. But if someone stabs you in the back, well then, that means that they’re behind you.
Don’t turn around, don’t let them slow you down or pull you back to their level. Just shrug them off and keep it moving. I know it's hard to keep the wounds from cutting, though. A danger of being a nice person is I am often too nice to mean people — those playing the role of my friend so they can steal my stage and/or my boy.
As many stab wounds as I have in my back, I’ve struggled with how to remain an open-armed caring person vs. becoming a cold and cynical person skeptical of everyone. But I realized that every person who has betrayed me gave me the same feeling. And now whenever my gut is telling me not to let a person into my circle of trust, I am going to listen. And keep it moving.
There is a strict girls code. If your friend likes a guy, he is off limits. Period. End of story. Just like guys put “bros before hos,” why don’t we put chicks before dicks?
These petty vagina wars are a field day for the guys. Do you not think they see these competitive games women play with each other? Of course they do, and they see it as an opportunity to play us and win. But did you ever stop to think that if a guy sees a girl not being loyal to a friend, he’s going to rightfully assume she's not a loyal person, and just play her. Then she's stuck with no girls, or boys in her life.
In the end, those who step out of bounds always lose.
My good friend Shana and I were getting our nails done, gossiping about our latest dating ventures, while the nail techs gossiped in another language. Likely making fun of Shana and I — we were referring to our nails as "claws," because, after all, we just might be becoming cougars.
Remember when I told you it was raining men? Well, for a couple of 30-year-olds like us, it's raining 20-somethings.
Shana was juggling two 23-year-olds, one of whom she had a Skype date with that night before we had a home-cooked dinner. After she “hung up” (or shut the computer screen down), she shouted to me in the kitchen. “I’m so torn between my two 23-year-olds!”
"We must be cougars in heat 'cause it really is raining men," I replied. "Hallelujah!" I shouted like I was leading the gospel choir.
We proceeded to start dancing around the kitchen, singing, Hallelujah, it's raining men! Hallelujah, it’s raining men! for a good minute or so until we heard:
“Shana! … Shana! … SHANNNNAAAAAAA!”
She covered my mouth and pulled me down to duck behind the kitchen island.
“Did you hear that?” she asked.
Then her phone, sitting next to her computer, started ringing. She crawled across the carpet to the couch like a sniper crawling through the woods.
It was there that she noticed that her iPod cord had kept her computer from closing entirely. The lovesick puppy had heard everything. She yanked the cord out so her laptop top could shut and ducked back down behind the couch cushions.
And then her phone rang again. And again. And again.
I just looked at her. "Welp, that solves that problem"[her being torn between two 23-year-olds, that is] … “and maybe this is probably why we’re attracting 20-somethings.”
The LadyCats aren't the only ones holding auditions this month.
ABC's The Bachelor is coming back to Charlotte to recruit their next Southern star.
Not only did Emily Maynard win the heart of America — oh, and Brad Womack last season — but former TopCat and current Miss Sprint Cup Kimberly Coon was also on the show.
So out of 25 women, two of them were from Charlotte. Charlotte was the only city in the nation that had two representatives on the show. That's kind of a big deal.
Cason-Point: The Bachelor producers know how great Carolina girls are.
Casting producers from The Bachelor will be at the EpiCentre (210 E. Trade St.) on Thursday, June 16. Registration begins at 4:30 p.m. and on-camera interviews will run through 10 p.m. at SUITE.
This means you can go to Alive After Five first and have a drink to calm the nerves ... or convince you it's a good idea. Either one.
They should be recruiting THE BACHELOR here, not just the girls.
Like Drew Carter. He may be in Cali now, but us Panthers fans still like to claim him here in Charlotte.
Pictured above with Emily. I asked the two of them to pose for the Charlotte yearbook for the best-looking superlative. They're both so nice, they appeased my dumb idea.