“Rules for One” is a bimonthly lifestyles column that investigates how to be successfully single.
Men might make us crazy. But even more so, alcohol. And the two don’t mix very well. Video proof: The Bachelor. Now, I hate to be the one to point out a person’s flaws, or misgivings in life, but this season’s man, Ben, really wasn’t all that awesome. He seemed rather boring, kind of stuck up and not very nice. Plus, he seemed to not believe in sunglasses. So weird.
But the girls on the show were, like usual, crazy obsessed. Pulling out all sorts of desperate moves like skinny dipping on national television, nightly nervous breakdowns and impromptu, insanely awkward kissing lessons. All of which would not have occurred without the unlimited supply of booze that these women are given on a daily basis. They seem to drink from sun-up to sun-down and everything gets a little strange when they see the Bachelor in between his hair flips.
I have to admit, for the sake of this column, that I went crazy once too. During a jager-bomb induced rage I tried to kick down an ex-boyfriends door. Luckily, I was unsuccessful and so was the relationship. But, had I not been drinking, I would have had the rational thought to save myself a whole lot of embarrassment documented on my apartment buildings security cameras and quite a bit of bruising on my elbows and knees.
I am not one to promote a life-long devotion to sobriety, but boundaries need to be set to avoid such horrendous mistakes. If I hadn’t chased down five shots with consecutive beers, I would have never had the thought of karate chopping a metal doorknob. I would have calmly walked myself to the bathroom, had a hey-girl moment in the mirror and went on with my merry life. There wouldn’t have been a scene, or a need for you-crazy-bitch text messages. It would have been collected, adult, and talked about later in private among girlfriends.
Every time I enter a bar, I see the progression of this type of crazy. It’s a look that starts in the eyes and then takes control of the entire female body. The peepers get fixated on anything that is remotely male, then the lips start to pucker a little more as they take hold of the straw. The hair gets touched frequently and laughter becomes loud, and by that time, you just have to sit back and watch the car wreck. There is no voice of reason to be listened too, they have reached the point of no return.
At first I thought it was an age thing, that girls in their twenties just needed to learn a few lessons and calm down a few notches. But, I have witnessed on reality television and, sadly, in real life, women dousing themselves in booze in hopes of roping something in. These women need to hear a solid bit of advice that any old timer will share: no one buys the cow, when they get the milk for free. And under the influence of your pretty pink martini, you are giving it all away.
Here is my final bit of advice for women-kind: Know your limits, hold tight to your standards – or better yet, have some – and realize that men might say they like a bit of crazy, but they don’t mean in public.