Submitted By: Lindsey Sheridan - University Of Florida

Let’s call it like it is, folks. Men don’t understand women, and women don’t understand why men don’t understand them. The result: a viscous cycle of miscommunication, misguidance and misinterpretations. Here, I break down those barriers, explaining once and for all how it feels to be a girl when…

We’re on a first date

Most first dates are like job interviews, with cocktails. We ask questions, evaluate answers and see how you recover from weird, awkward silences. Bottom line: we take note… of everything. Did he call ahead to make reservations, or did just wing it? Did he order a brewski for just himself or glasses of wine for the two of us? Does he chew with his mouth open? Does he annoyingly tap his feet under the table? The truth is, we take note of everything, because… well, it all counts.

Sure, you think, I know the guy’s supposed to pick up the check and walk a girl to her door, but that’s the least of your worries, buddy. That’s why I’m going to share with you my esteemed dating truths, which I’m assuming you’ll use responsibly!

Truth #1: On a first date, women never order what they really want to eat. Truth #2: Wait to kiss her until after your third date, and you’ll be “friended.” Truth #3: No matter what they say, all women will kiss on a first date. Truth #4: Every woman wants a man who will make them throw their esteemed dating rules out the window.

We’re surfing the crimson tide

It’s like a murder scene in our panties. Blood is shed, lives are lost (clinically speaking) and shields of armor (aka maxi pads) are used as defense mechanisms. The only difference: our shields have coated wings for extra leakage protection. There’s cramps… and bloating…and headaches… and cravings… and PMS. Oh yeah, there’s crying, too. I know that’s not what you want to hear, but come on, guys.

You men get to benefit from a week of “getting rather than giving” simply because painting the town red ain’t your thing. We, on the other hand, have to suck it up (with an extra absorbent tampon) and deal. We study. We work. We exercise. We dance. Hell, we even swim (if we can squeeze our fat asses into last season’s bikinis, that is) – all because Tampax wants us to have a “happy period.” Yeah right!

I’d continue rambling on, but it’s been over eight hours since I changed my tampon, and I don’t need Toxic Shock Syndrome minimizing the fact that I’m PMSing and on the verge of crying… Period!

We’re watching sports

You’d think that after eight years of cheerleading under my belt that I’d be able to differentiate between a QB sneak and a buttonhook, but nope. Not much has changed since the days when I was leading my squad with chants, like “Go, Fight, Win – Eagles Throw It In.” Still, I just don’t get what’s so fascinating about men in jockstraps, tackling each other every five seconds. And, let’s not forget the heat factor.

I’d much rather relax in the comfort of my air-conditioned room and watch re-runs of Gilmore Girls, which has a (semi) plot and doesn’t require a handbook to understand. Nevertheless, when I’m watching sports with a group of guys, I put my feelings aside and become a real “team player.” I sport the jersey, wear the hat, don the sneakers and replace my “Go, Fight, Win” lingo with phrases, like “Hail Mary” and “Flea-Flicker.”

As I do, I chug down a warm beer (in reproach), let out a huge, repulsive belch and think, “So this is what it feels like to be a guy.”

We’re getting ready

It’s not as easy as a simple shower, shave and nail-polishing session. Oh no. We pluck. We tweeze. We shave everything). We iron (our hair). We moisturize. We analyze. We criticize. We patronize. We try on outfits. We change outfits. We change again. We touch up our makeup. We pee. We powder our noses. We ask for our roommates’ opinions… then change… again. We check our friends’ away messages. We change our shoes… We look in the mirror. We brush our teeth.

We help a friend out with a mid-day crisis regarding a missing shoe and/or a guy who didn’t call. We change… again. We pee… again. We look in the mirror… again. We touch up our makeup… again. We look in the mirror… again. Then, finally, we’re out the door… but only for a minute. We’ve got to pee… again!

We’re with our girls

We think about how hot it would be to have, like, one giant girl-on-girl orgy with all of our best friends, sisters and female neighbors (except for the neighbor who looks like a pug. She can stay put on her couch). We also imagine what it would be like to hug and kiss each other all night and how sexy it would be to videotape the whole thing.

Occasionally, we like to paint our nails (and toenails), eat frozen yogurt, watch Oprah (or something on the Lifetime channel), discuss the new McSteamy scandals on Grey’s and laugh at how gullible some of you are to think that us girls really fantasize about girl-on-girl action. Geez!