Imagine life worked like it did on facebook. You’d get to be friends with so many more people you can relate to, you talk to interesting people all the time, and you go through their drawers looking for bikini pictures. A second after you meet them. (Or a second before.)
It must be awesome being a
hot semi-hot girl on facebook. Anything you post will automatically get a whole slew of “lol!”s and “omfg, hilarious!”s. (“But…but that was my actual cat that just died”.) It must be great for your self-esteem. If it was me, probably in about a month I’d start thinking I was like one step above Ghandi, Seinfeld and Churchill.
Another thing that gets quickly rearranged is your idea of your own priorities. You thought you were a good person. But actually you just put an important conversation with your friend on hold for 5 minutes because your crops came in in Farmville. And you don’t comment on anything other than jokes. And apparently, you’re not friends with any member of your actual family.
Now, to feel better about yourself, check these out.
By: Anonymous Yeshiva Guy
I was at a coffee shop the other day, and the girl behind the counter was really cute. But I didn’t flirt with her, or ask her out; I just ogled her breasts while she made my coffee and rang up my order. I think her finger touched mine when she gave back the credit card. Either her finger or maybe it was the receipt.
Sometimes I wonder just how much of a socially awkward pervert the women I come in contact with think I am. Back when I was still trying to keep the halachos about looking at and dealing with women, this wasn’t really a problem. I would have averted my gaze, and certainly wouldn’t be trying to check out the girl at the next table while she sits there (I’ve got a really nice view right now, and if she’d just shift her legs a drop…). But now I’m looking, and don’t really know if I have the skills to do it without being a creep.
It could be I don’t really care either. I don’t care what that shiksa will think of me; I’m not going to ask her out anyway. All these women are off limits anyway, and are only good for looking at. Not that I would know what to say if I was willing to ask her out.
There’s also the issue that lack of exposure has made me a tad more sensitive to this than my classmates- although that is fading. When one classmate sat down across from me at a meet-and-greet with a V necked blouse that opened all the way to below her breasts- was I supposed to be looking anywhere else? (Rant: Then, that same classmate complained that at interviews the interviewer was checking her out. Well, what else did she expect? Is she dressing like that for any other reason? You’ll notice that mens shirts don’t show nearly as much chest- because nobody wants to see it, and nobody wants to show it.)
Really, I am not otherwise socially awkward- I just have no exposure to what is socially acceptable when dealing with girls in a sexual way. I’m always surprised by the casual comments my male friends in school will make to my female friends, about the sweater they’re wearing or that their hair looks nice today. (It IS creepy when the professor does it, right?). I’ve only complimented exactly 2 girls on their looks; after dating for a long time, and at least once only because it was what I was supposed to do. I don’t think I would be able to tell the difference between the type of compliment it would be ok to make to married woman and the type that would get you laid out by her husband. Or between flirting and a creepy advance.
I guess I should be thankful for my lack of ability; I really do want (and not want) to be frum, and there’s no telling what I’d be doing if I actually had the guts and the skill to flirt or ask a girl out. I really would like to marry a frum girl, and really do want her to be my first (and I’m sure we’ll figure it out just fine- I’m much smarter than all the teens who are figuring it out in the backseat of their car.)
So, if you ever find yourself doing business with me, or working with me, or going to school with me- try and let me know if I’m sexually harassing you. And maybe tell that girl over there I wouldn’t mind buying her coffee, and whatever else she wants to do after that.
Experts on TV are busy blaming the decline of American civilization on the economy, the government, the job market, and many other trivial things. The real problem of course is girls aged 10 to 25. They have single handedly destroyed written conversation. Now, there’s no possibility of intelligent discourse and all of our problems will snowball until we’re officially doomed. (Even this lame segue was caused by a 12 year old girl.)
Have you seen them? Every sentence has 15 emoticons, 20 punctuation marks in a row, and of course a bullshit phrase describing how they’re feeling. OMG!!!!!! My dog almost pooped on the lawn!!!!!!! How crazy is that?????????!!!!!!!!
Reply: Thats insane!!!!! rotfl!! lolol!!! 🙂
That last bit of faked ejaculation is important here. ‘Laughing out loud’ has been sucked into the rolling mass of bullshit. At this point, it’s entirely meaningless. But this girl wants to fake some real emotion for her needy friend. So she further bastardizes the language by lying in more descriptive terms. “ laughing out loud, out loud!”, you know, for reals. “I’m just rolling on the floor laughing out loud!” “Really, you’re as interesting as the child rock star you imagine yourself to be!” *pause* “Now, tell me that right back!”
There should be an internet abuse hotline. If you’re gonna molest the English language, you will be banned from conversing in it online. You’re now officially forced to talk to actual people. Or you could learn French. I don’t care what you do with that language. No-one’s using that language for anything important anyway nowadays.
Guest Post by RealFunnyJew
I never thought the time would come where I would be fully living out my all-time yeshiva fantasy. The classic one that Frum Satire is always talks about, with the willing girls and locked apartment doors. Where worrying about a near approaching Rabbi was not a problem and where the booze ran freely, yet weed was still taboo.Now I didn’t hook up- please, God isn’t that kind- but I did get to hang out with girls. Real. Live. Girls. With boobs.
Yes. Now I know you think I’m joking, but for me a simple Shabbos dinner with some post Bais Yaakov/current Stern girls is no small situation. This is my time to shine, to put on the moves, and show them what I got in high hopes of ending the night of with a sexual encounter, which as far as I’m concerned could be a simple handshake. Oh God, just one…tiny ounce…of flesh contact. Please? Of course, it did not happen, I mean unless you count Shoshi passing the chicken where I “accidently” skimmed her finger nails as my fingers scraped along the white porcelain for a wee bit longer than I should have. Ohhh yeah, gimme some of that fingernails action, babe.
I wasn’t always this desperate. There was a time in my life when I left my BFF’s Shlomit and Sheva and Yafit to go to Camp Mogen Avraham in the Catskills, a camp where I knew absolutely no one and simply went because I thought that the idea of a camp with other Jewish boys my age (and at the time, I assumed girls) would be quite a bit of fun without the supervision of parents, but that is a separate story. At this camp I distinctly recall debating the hetero-phobic kids in my bunk that being friends with a girl was no big deal. It’s normal, why would anybody care? I swear to you, I believed every word that I was saying, and would get into screaming fights with the other folks who would disagree. I had one ally, a black kid called Preston who had a girlfriend – ride on man, ride on. Much respect.
Regardless, I went on with this theory in my head that talking to girls was socially acceptable and the people at camp were just simple minded – which they were, no doubt – until I was fourteen years old shadowing at the Wisconsin Institute of Torah Study. There I learned that the anti vagina view was mainstream:
“Wait – why can’t we have a cell phone?” I asked Rabbi Cheplowitz, possibly the scariest man alive, the only man to ever make me a pee a little while engaging in a staring contest.
“You will talk to girls, of course.”
“And that’s not allowed?”
I wasn’t accepted. But the journey for the right yeshiva went on, and my worst fears were confirmed. Girls are the devil. Satan is a stupid Christian value- girls are where it’s at.
Needless to say, after three years in yeshiva and going into my fourth, with minimal contact with the females, I found myself leaving the table of girls who I’m never going to get any action with to make my way to the bathroom to down some of my dwindling supply of morphine pills from my last surgery just to make it through the meal.
Well, first of all, I don’t know if the shidduch crisis actually exists. Any problem that people become aware of in the frum community seems to get an automatic addendum of “crisis” to build some fear momentum. As usual, there is no attempt to gather real data, and everyone just spouts their own opinion of the situation. This post won’t be any different. Of course, I’m much smarter than all the rest of you amharatzim, so that should be enough to give me credibility.*
If there’s a spanner thrown in the works here, it’s pretty obvious to me that it’s the modern Yeshiva system. Men and women each bring something to the table that the other sex is looking for. Everyone at some point early on hopes for the 1st draft picks, but they realize that men who have more money will get hotter women, so the other numbers down the line eventually give up and pair off with each other. Monogamy may not be natural, but it is a very socially conscious law, allowing for everyone to get laid.
The problem starts when people try messing with it. The Bais Yaakovs tell girls that a guy who’s learning is the real ’10′, and they should ignore everything else. That may seem like a simple value substitution, but it’s not, and here’s why: All you need to do to become a 10 is sit your ass down in Yeshiva and show up to seder. That’s it. Now you’re automatically on top and hold all the cards. You aren’t forced into your natural position. When the cream of the crop of girls your age is skimmed off, you just go younger. You could be 25 and pick the hottest 18 year old. And why wouldn’t you? It’s not like you have some Americanishe idea of wanting a girl as a friend. This is a numbers game.
*Oh come on, I’m not stealing Rabbi Pinky’s lines. Imitation is the sincerest form of laziness.
(Cross-posted on Frumsatire)
Originally posted on Frumsatire
Are you there jaded frum girl? It’s me, offthedwannabe. I want you. Tell me your hopes and dreams. They’re all gone? Oh, you’re just to good to be true.
What is it about you that drives me wild? Is it your dark brown hair and slightly alternative good looks? Your angry but tznius long sleeve t-shirts? Your cynical attitude protecting something really sweet deep down?
Tell me something negative about the bais yaakov you went to. Oh yeah. Let’s go to the mall and make fun of frum people. Did you just give that homeless guy money when I wasn’t looking? I want you so bad it hurts.
Come on, you know I don’t really want the blond haired girls. I wouldn’t even give them a ride in the rain. Would they tell me to go fuck myself with as much feeling as you do? Would they fight with my family like you do? We’ll be together forever. You love/hate me like I’m a part of you.