In light of the Superbowl this coming weekend, I’ve been reflecting on a whole host of things I used to do to impress boys. Here, in no particular order, is that very embarrassing list.

Know About Sports

Look. Bottom line. I don’t know sports. I’m one of four girls. We were raised ballet dancers, not athletes, and my poor father knew early on that we were not the “have a catch in the yard” types.

I understand the basic rules (except for “off sides”), scoring methods, and major celebrities of each game. I can also name a lot of teams and their locations, but that’s mostly because I have a fairly photographic memory, and they’re on TV a lot. But when it comes to actually following any given sport (aside from Boston College football from 2001-2009), I don’t.

Aanddd yet in many previous circumstances I have been more than a casual fan of sports (which is the truth. I do enjoy watching them) for the sake of a given male. 99.9% of women do this, which makes it right by virtue of majority.

Know About Really Cool New Music

Here is a list of my favorite musicians: Tina Turner, Bonnie Raitt, James Taylor, Billie Joel, Billie Holiday. I’ll stop there because the rest are pretty much the same.

I have never been cool in the music department. I know this because when we were little my cousin Geanna was really cool in the music department, and I was hyper aware/embarrassed about this fact. To this day she is one of the news editors of a music blog called F*cking Nostalgic, and I write listicals about lying to boys.

Buut I have been to a concert or three with a boy or so who was super into this brand new, underground, blue grass, hipster-ish, cello trio that I became similarly super into the minute I was introduced. Did I lie about liking the music? No, never. Did I make it seem as though discovering new artists was a thing I was also really into? Yes, yes I did.

Get Ready To Go Out Really, Really Fast

This is weird, but I used to have this preconception that guys respect girls who can shower and get ready really quickly. As such, this was a huge practice I adopted in college. I wasn’t one of those prissy girls who needed 45 minutes and three curling irons to get ready. I was whatever about it. Who needs to get all fussy about their looks? Who’s such a prima donna that they can’t get out of the house in 20 minutes or less?

Um, me. I am. And when I look at all those pictures of myself from my college years I wish my current me could go give me former me a swift kick in ill-fitting pants.

Eat Daring, Meat-Centric Meals

See above. Replace “get ready really fast” with “eat crazy meals involving lots of heavy meats.” I’m by no means a vegetarian posing as a meat-lover so some carnivore will love me back. I’m an adventurous eater who, outside of the company of men I want to impress, would have more likely ordered a pasta dish.

Buuut I had heard one too many guys complain about that girl who eats like a rabbit, and so I made sure to hide my healthier side until we had a few dates under our rapidly expanding belts. Note: I still kinda do this…

Be Really Short and Void of Tone in Texts

In my first few years on the dating scene I was all about personality and quirk. I’d send funny mach.com e-mails and adorable texts just to be clear this guy knew exactly what kind of wordsmith he was getting by selecting me as a (potential) girlfriend.

Then I realized that A. most guys don’t need/want that much personality, that early on and B. I was spending WAY too much time editing 160-word texts into perfection.

Be Their Best Friend
I spent a lot of time from 18 to 20-oh-7? being a “guy’s girl.” Buddy-buddy. Not-too-feminine. “One of the guys.” I was a regular plot line in a lame romantic comedy or episode of FULL HOUSE.

Until I realized that guys like girls (unless they like guys, but that’s something even I can’t pretend to be). They like that they can teach us stuff about sports. They like that they can make us mixed CD’s of cool, new music. They like that we eat healthy, and make them eat healthy sometimes (but only sometimes…). And, if they like us, then they like our e-mails, our texts, and the outfits we come up with after 35 minutes in the closet (though they will openly admit they’d prefer it took 15).

And So…

Turns out you can’t pretend your way into a boyfriend. Or, rather, you can’t pretend your way into a legitimate relationship. I feel like that was probably also covered in an episode of Full House, but I was too focused on my love affair with DJ’s boyfriend Steve to absorb the lesson. I would have totally pretended to love sports for him…