What a Nice Guy by Phil Torcivia

Tuesday, August 30, 2011

Yesss


Do you find yourself asked about your preference when you’re feeling indifferent? Sometimes having too many choices causes stress. We don’t need more stress, do we? We’re already stressed about whether to eat dinner or pay our mortgages. It’s unnecessary to make us choose from ten different salad dressings.

I’ve found a solution: Answer every “or” question with “yesss.” (You must extend the s-part, like a hissing snake, to have the proper effect. Oh, and smile when you do it.)

“For your salad, would you like Thousand Island, French, Blue Cheese, Ranch, or Raspberry Vinaigrette?”
“Yesss.”
“Huh?”
“Yesss.”
“Which dressing?”
“Yesss.”

See how easily I transferred the stress right back to the chick in the silly black apron? She's not controlling my blood pressure.

“Say, what type of man do you like?”
“I’m attracted to taller men. Dark skin is nice as is a full head of hair. The toned and athletic look works too. He has to have a good job, be responsible with his finances, and act like a gentleman at all times.”
“Nice.”
“So, what type of woman are you attracted to?”
“Yesss.”
“No, I mean like blonde or brunette?”
“Yesss.”
“Tall or petite?”
“Yesss.”
“Do you prefer the younger ones or women closer to your age?”
“Yesss.”

I don’t want to choose. I love them all ... unless I don’t.

“Are you ready for another round?”
“Indeed.”
“What were you drinking?”
“Vodka and vodka.”
“Funny. Which vodka?”
“Yesss.”
“I mean, do you prefer Kettle One? Chopin? Absolut?”
“Yesss.”
“Fine. Do you like it up or on the rocks?”
“Yesss.”

Stress transfer successful. Ladies, you rarely have no preference, yet you cause problems by claiming you have no preference when actually you do.

“Do you care where we sit?”
“Oh, not at all. Pick a spot, honey.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yep. Anywhere’s fine.”
“OK, how about here?” he asked, while sliding into the booth he knew he’d soon be sliding out of.
“Hm. Well, it’s a little drafty here.”
“All right. How about over there?”
“That’s fine. I really don’t care.”
He tilts his head as he holds her chair, waiting for the inevitable.
“Actually, honey, would you mind if we sat on the other side of the restaurant? This side gets too much traffic because it’s close to the kitchen.”
“If you had a preference you could have saved us aggravation by sharing it.”
“It’s not really a preference. We can sit here if it’s that important to you.”
“No, it’s not important where we sit as much as when.”
“Well, don’t get an attitude now. I told you I don’t care where we sit.”
“Ugh.”

My new strategy will keep these forehead lines from deepening. I’ll answer in the affirmative and tolerate whatever comes my way.

“Do you want to go upstairs and fool around a little or should we have more wine?”
“Yesss.”
“Do you like it better when I’m on top or when you’re behind me?”
“Yesss.”
“Do you prefer the lace underwear or should I go with the thong?”
“Yesss.”
“Should we go hiking or walk the dogs?”
“Nooo.”

No comments:

Post a Comment