Shmitten Kitten:Gee this sounds all too familiar...

Reader Submission For A Phrase We'd Like To Stab In The Face: "You Know I'm Just Not That Perceptive"

Posted: 28 Sep 2009 03:53 PM PDT

From our lovely reader Julie:

I want to stab the phrase, "you know I'm just not that perceptive," in the face.  It's his relationship disclaimer setting the bar so low on the outset that he's releasing himself from any and all expectations ever. That's some lawyer-type shit right there. He forgot your birthday? He blew off dinner with your parents? He didn't remember that he was supposed to pick you up from work? His defense is that you knew that he was just not that perceptive when you began dating him. So, it's actually your fault for having higher expectations. He pleads how he was born that way, just like how he has blue eyes and was genetically pre-dispositioned to begin balding at 28. According to him, his "perceptiveness"--or his lack thereof--is an immutable FACT, not a skill or attribute that can be learned or improved upon. 

After I simmer with rage about wanting to stab that phrase in the face, I understand its true meaning; he's just LAZY and is ultimately not that interested in being considerate of me.  

Whoa. That's pretty intense. What phrases would you like to stab in the face? Drop us a line to hi@shmittenkitten.com and sharpen your threoretical knives. Huh. Theoretical knives. That'd be a great band name, wouldn't it?

Daily Shmitten Kitten...Guys who don't want to date me (90's edition): Skateboarders

For being such a puny lot, skateboarders really intimidated me growing up. It's not even that I think that they'd be fun to date. All the skaters I knew where obsessed with boring things: their deck, landing tricks, wearing baggy clothing, etc. They weren't even particularly funny. They had terrible handwriting. They had the attention span of a housefly. What's the appeal?

You know what it was? It was their attitude. Or rather, their terrible attitude. They did not give a fuck. And, I liked that. Unfortunately, they didn't seem to give a fuck about me, which I clearly didn't like. In the summer, I'd walk by Astor Place, a notorious '90s skater hang out in NYC, and I wouldn't even turn a head. Walking anywhere wearing a tank top in NYC is pretty much an open invitation for sexual harassment, so in a weird twist not receiving any attention from the skaters bummed me out. What? No takers? C'mon! Apparently, I'm skateboarder kryptonite. I even wrote for Thrasher for a spell in college, hoping to impress a skater down the line. I never even got the chance to namedrop that factoid to a guy on wheels! *shakes fist at sky*

I've never dated a skater which is a minor regret in my life. I dated an ex-skater once which was a bit of a thrill even though I never got to hear his wheels on the pavement rolling towards me. Whatever. I've learned to accept my fate. Skaters are like these mythical creatures that I will never get to observe up close, like a unicorn or a minotaur. So, skaters, I choose to reject you. I'm not interested in hearing about how you landed a front-nose-ollie-bagel-grab 960. Oh, who am I kidding? I totally want to hear about that. That actually sounds pretty awesome.



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