We’re hotter. 
That’s it, I am learning to weld.
Looks like it’s time to make a visit to Calgary.
This was in the plans already; this thread just firmed things up, so to speak.
Hah, I’m one up on you. But in the interests of fairness, let me recommend Metals And How To Weld Them as a good primer on welding theory.
Stranger
Hetero protocol, rule #23, requires that I spend this post flirting with alice. Rule #87, subsection C, states clearly that I need to learn to weld.
Instead, I’ll relate this story: In perhaps the only time in my life that I assisted an actual scientist with actual scientific research*, I bought a bunch of women’s magazines just to read the quizzes and advice. What I found was astonishing. The advice given was usually really bad, and the quizzes were a joke. As it turns out, none of those things are written by anyone who would qualify as any sort of expert on the subject. They are invariably written by journalists, and bad ones at that. They are not designed to inform. They are designed to sell magazines. Ever notice how every issue has sex tips that are the final word how to drive him wild in bed? Every single month? You’d think they would have gotten it right the first time.
In one men’s magazine, the advice was given that one should avoid women’s nipples entirely, and instead kiss and lick a spot precisely 2 inches above them. Finally, they claimed, they found the real erogenous zone on women.
*Yes, it was a sex project. On occasion, the research was loads of fun.
Y’all have fun spending time in welding school. I’ll send you a postcard from Calgary.
Why am I not this popular in real life?!?!
Poor girl. I’d be happy to console you.
Last month, my sister was talking about when we moved and attended a new high school. She said that the only reason she made any friends was so that they could get to me. My reaction? “Why am I just now hearing about this?!?”
Hehe - I’ve bumped into guys from highschool that said “You were the hottest girl in school - I totally crushed on you for all three years!” and I always say “That’s nice. I didn’t go on a single date with a guy in my highschool, because none of them ever asked me out.”
Go figure, eh?
Aparently the water in Canada makes the women way smokin hot, and the guys clueless.
Hey! I resemble that remark!
No, wait… let me rephrase that.
The water here makes the women hot… and married. At least if my workplace is anything to go by.
I’ve often thought so. 
No mystery here – each of your classmates figured that he had no chance with you, since you were the hottest girl around, had your pick of the available men in town, and would thus break his geeky loser schoolboy heart if he dared to ask you on a date.
That’s no joke. There’s a Kurt Vonnegut short story about that (the name escapes me at the moment).
In real life, there’s no way I would even dare flirt with alice. She’s way out of my league, by at least an order of magnitude. And if she came over and tried to flirt with me, [post=5770518]I’d become a studdering, incoherent, socially inept loser[/post]. It’s not your fault, alice, and we don’t hate you because you’re beautiful, but it is an albatross to bear.
Stranger
You are modest, I like that in a girl.
Of course. I knew I had no chance with the girl of my dreams (in my calculus and physics classes, straight A’s, and a cheerleader) in high school.
This attitude, where we were trained to think of ourselves as worms, unworthy of anything good, is one of the major beefs I have with our educational system. It started in kindergarten; I did not think that way before. And it’s damned difficult to get rid of. I’ve often considered that a class-action lawsuit against the educational authorities would be an appropriate response.
See, now this is a real shame and - I suspect - the reason that I spend most Saturday evenings home alone with my dog, watching You’ve Got Mail for the 758,578th time, eating PopTarts.
Well, that and because, apparently I’m a bad date.
It’s in all the brochures - didn’t anyone tell you?
Is THAT what those forms at the passport office were for…
If you’d change the movie to, um, say Before Sunset (or Rear Window) and the Pop Tarts to tapenade and sourdough bagettes, I’d totally flirt with you. I’d even make allowances for your lack of cell phone rudeness and the whole “going on a date to see if you have things in common” thing, despite what an awful date that makes you.
Stranger