East Coast Gal

People from the East Coast are quick to point out how we are different from the rest of the U.S. We live on the edge, we are rude to tourists and very cold-hearted when it comes to people who are much slower-paced than we are.  And people from the South are quick to point out how they are different. They are more relaxed, very centered around big families and lots of food. East coast folks are gossipy and social. The southern folks are kind and quiet.

Say what you want about the South and their sometimes backwards ways. I don’t agree with everyone from down there and there are certainly things I would change, but the calm sweetness of a no-frills good ol’ time certainly is not one of them.

But when it comes to women, I have my southern ways.

Unlike women up here, I am smooth, chivalrous to a fault, because it almost seems insincere. I am friendly and chatty and it can make a grown woman crazy trying to figure out if I am flirting with them or if I was just raised right by a strict Ma and Pa who taught me that a lover comes to expect certain things and you should always oblige so to not hurt their delicate sensibilities (which are mostly a front, to be honest).

Not all of east coast women are like me though. Up here, we have some who act as if they’ve never seen a push-up bra before and the jerks who are, for lack of a better term, jerky. (You know ‘em when you see ‘em.) And yeah, lesbians are typical up here and a large subset is interested in beer, sports and hot women. At times, I feel like women like me are an endangered species, a creature to be protected and cultivated for the future.

I am friendly. I always shake your hand and smile when I meet you and I make a point to repeat your name back and be formally introduced to all parties in a group. I tease in a good-nature way, I open doors but I never pull out chairs. I include people in conversations and I am a fan of casually touching you when I talk. On the shoulder. On the knee.

I have a sweet tone to my voice, a slow drawl that makes the words sound dramatic. “Well, don’t you look nice tonight,” sounds ever more so sincere from me. (I think)

I am genuinely nice and I will compliment every woman around me because it is the polite thing to do. I will never let you stand, I will always give up my seat. I Smile and wink at women and give a good hearty kiss on the cheek to my lesbian brethren in passing.

I drink scotch or whiskey on the rocks. A double, please. Always. Or beer, but probably not heavy beer. I will play the latest hit on the jukebox and will pull you to your feet and dance with you in the middle of a crowded bar.

Some people may think I am cheesy. Or that I am just playing to get a woman’s attention. And that may be true at times but I do make silly chauvinistic comments because I can get away with saying just about anything in that sweet tone of mine.

But I do fall head over heels quickly when I am smitten by a woman. I have been known to walk a straight line behind a pretty bird with sparkling eyes and shiny hair as she squeaks out her drink order or throws her own soft charming drawl right back at me to soothe me into doing her bidding.

And don’t be fooled. I may seem fragile and gentle, but I turn quicker than a flipped pancake when my hand is forced. Steel Magnolias, every last one of me.

I’ve been told that others dislike me, because I don’t seem genuine. They think that I am obviously looking for a trophy wife to help plan Christmas Parties or to smile and nod (and pack and extra flask) while I entertained clients. They found me and my sweetness to be patronizing.

But….

…turns out ladies are suckers for an accent and a kiss on the cheek after all.

Advertisement