WTF is up with dudes?

Enter Scene:

"You're just very direct," Katie said.
I looked up from my computer screen, where I was in the midst of composing a message to a dude. A dude who, on multiple occasions, stated that I made him quite nervous. The message read:

Yo. When are we gonna hang out again? You aren't still nervous, are you?

"Really?" I asked.
"Really. Guys don't know how to handle that."

Lame.

I was reminded of this so-called 'directness' the other day when I was watching Pride and Prejudice for the 80 billionth time. When Darcy and Lizzie dance for the first time, Lizzie breaks Darcy's awkward silence: "It is your turn to say something now, Mr. Darcy. I talked about the dance, and you ought to make some kind of remark on the size of the room, or the number of couples."

You know Darcy would have just let the whole dance continue in silence. 'Cause he's a dude. Granted, P&P is nothing more than one big girlie wet dream, but still. I'd like to think there's someone out there (preferably someone with a large country estate) who appreciates a little bit of directness in a lady.

This Is Why I Can't Have Nice Things

Hi, my name is Emily and I am a klutz.

I drop things, I fall down, I walk into walls, and my appendages usually have at least one or two mysterious bruises. Granted, I seem to be at my klutzy-est between Thursday and Saturday, but that's really beside the point. I've done enough stupid things while sober.

This past Saturday I had some friends over to my place. There was food, wine, dancing, and some more wine. Later in the evening I decided to go meet some other friends in Cambridge. For reasons unknown I was standing beside a storm drain talking to someone while looking through my text messages. As I closed my flip phone, I dropped it. I do this a lot in part of said klutzy-ness and because my phone is an ancient, unwieldy beast. However, I watched in horror as my phone actually FELL THROUGH THE GRATES. There were several moments of silence as my companion and I both looked at the sewer grate and each other in disbelief.

"I can't believe that actually just happened," he finally said.

I got on my hands and knees and tried to lift the sewer grate, which of course didn't work. Then I yelled for a while. Then I tried to lift the sewer grate again, this time with some assistance. Still didn't work.

Funnily enough I had just been having a discussion with my father about whether or not I should get an iPhone. My argument against such a purpose was my propensity for dropping my phone.

"Yes, but if you had an iPhone, you'd be more careful," Dad reasoned.

Yeah, that's doubtful.

As annoying as it is to drop your phone into a sewer, it's mostly just inconvenient. If I dropped an iPhone into the sewer, I would be apoplectic right now.

The next morning, this story was related to a friend of mine. His response?

"Oh man. I'm not surprised."

Quite frankly, neither am I. But, what can I do about it? Well, not buy an iPhone for starters. I can only hope that my old, cumbersome cell phone is on a magical journey through Boston's sewer system--kind of like Finding Nemo, but with outdated technology.