By all accounts, it seems there is a very real fixed minimum number of nights that your chick demands you spend together, with her, in the week. So when you have a girlfriend, you slowly get whipped into adhering to these sleepover rules. Sometimes without even realising it. Next thing you know, you’re lying about grandmothers’ birthdays just to get a night to yourself.

The sleepover situation is EXACTLY what chicks use to gauge where the relationship is. How many nights a week are we together? That is the all-defining gauge. It is permeated with other finely tuned indicators. For example – how many times are we not having sex during these sleepovers? (at the beginning of the relationship, each number of nights together WITHOUT sex is a stronger and stronger indication that he really loves you and might not be “fucking you around”.) And, of course, how many of your personal effects are at his house? Toothbrush? Book? underwear? Shoes? The more personal effects, the more serious the relationship.

 

I will make him mine

 

So back to the sleepover gauge. I would imagine there is a ratio of sleepover time that can be split between the work week and the weekend. You could probably trade one weekend night on your own in return for a full week sleeping over together every night – at her place. If you give her every weekend night for two weeks, then you’re allowed two week nights on your own. In a row.

‘Cos if you don’t do it like that she’ll think something is wrong and she will corner you and ask things like, “Where the fuck is this all going? Tell me if I am wasting my fucking time here? ‘Cos I’m not going to be your fuck toy!”

Most chicks don’t like the idea of you just working on the relationship when you feel like it. That’s just not enough stability for our girls. No, no…none of that. They’ll go fucking psycho. This is what they mean when you hear guys saying, “Then the chick went fucking psycho!”

So you play along, sneaking in “special” sleep-time on your own whenever you can. You’re trying to trick yourself into thinking that there is no routine here and you haven’t just woken up in the middle of a “serious relationship,” heading dangerously close to “forever.”

Next thing you know….. it’s been a year…

What the fuck happened there?

She has a whole closet to herself at your house. With numerous outfits in it.

How did THOSE get there?

I know……terrifying..

You see, you went for the wrong angle. You were sleeping. She trapped you with secret messages hidden in her everyday speech. Like subliminal advertising – keeping you oblivious to what is going on. Like when she happens to be with you while you’re buying shit for your house and says you should buy a particular fragrance of toilet spray because, she “prefers ocean breeze flavour!”

And there it is! Right there! You don’t realise that the moment where you agree that her opinion counts in your home, has just passed. And you didn’t even realise! Wake up, chum!

My vibe is different. I’m like……I’ll call you. But don’t freak me out. Then I’ll call you again.

Sometimes I might be pissed. It might be late.

Fucking DEAL WITH IT.

Come for the odd sleepover.

This will continue for some time until you get the call up for the “Sunday Chillout session.” Best you be there.

Random sleepovers after bumping into each other in the evenings will continue. Please note that there is NO pattern forming here WHATSOEVER. Don’t even try to structure an algorithm that makes sense of it. It is TOTALLY RANDOM. The only routine you could possibly work out, would be the Sundays. That is the ONLY stability here. Either it’s one Sunday on, one Sunday off. Or both on. Sometimes maybe a full Sunday, sometimes maybe just an arvee. And SOMETIMES we’ll follow through with a spot of Carte Blanche and the 8 o’ clock movie and a sleepover.

Don’t read too much into a Sunday night sleepover. It’s not a big deal. It’s just nice to get a blowjob on a Monday morning.

Your big thing to look out for at this juncture would be an invite as a partner to a dinner or an event, like a wedding or a bar mitzvah. You’ll probably crack the invite during the first or second coffee date.

You don’t have to be a genius to work out that this means I’m cool with the boys getting some face time with you. You get on really well with them and you let me go and play nicely when the whole extended team is out together. Again, we’re stressing the MY TIME issue here. We’ll work out an angle for you later. But for now, look for c(l)ues….. don’t give them.

Next step : make me stuff. Create things for me or buy me stuff. I don’t know…… bake a fucking cake….write me a card….whatever. Surprise me with gifts. Again, please be careful here. It’s gifts we’re looking for. Courier it to me or give it to The P.A. This is not a physical thing. Don’t jump out of the fucking microwave at The Safe House or let me find you curled up on my doormat with one of those terrifying skew psycho-wants-to-play smiles. It’s gift time. Just gifts. This process will come at a good time and will make me stop for a second and realise that I quite dig you. The only-child thing is probably the cause of this.

You’ll get the call up for some more mid-week sleepovers. Sometimes without sex. That’s right, you heard me!

Kyk hoe lyk hy nou! Next thing you know, you’re doing regular sleepovers!

Now how difficult was that? Notice how there was never a moment when either party discussed where this is going.

Now see how you got what you wanted in the end? Sure, it’s more risky for you, as you’re never really certain where you stand. Does he love you? Or are you a little whore? Who knows!? You’ll just have to see where it ends up. Or get out of there quick. I can’t make that decision for you and we’re not going to discuss it.

Look, we CAN……….but that’ll blow it.

Then you’re a psycho..