With each coy smile, a soulful pair of Bambi-eyes, that lilting girlish giggle, and a devestatingly cute flick of the ponytail, we unwittingly unleash enormous amounts of power. A power that makes guys hand us their balls on a silver platter, our feminine wiles are a force to be reckoned with.
Guys will do anything for more of the attention. They'll go shopping with you, wait patiently outside changing rooms, tell you exactly what you want to hear, and shower you with presents. They'll even let you paint their nails and do yours in return. It just depends on how much you've got in the palm of your hand. And you know what's even funnier, looking at them laugh at each other about who's more whipped.
In truth, you either use this coyness to great effect or you stand on your soapbox screaming at other girls for dishonoring the whole feminist movement. Things run a lot smoother with niceness than intimidation anyway.
I remember that secondary school was nothing but a shooting range to test our so called wiles, learning to exercise them with much deftness and subtlety on the unsuspecting male population. I guess they had a hard time, what with having to deal with themselves and whole hoardes of determined ladies, but they were flirt fodder, if you will, a low down, digusting way of boosting our egos. But fun.
So maybe we are manipulative and conniving with each calculated 'unconcious' move, then again I suppose it works both ways, you could equally argue that the manipulated guys are the ones with the ulterior motive, and we're actually not as good at keeping them at our beck and call as we think, but that they're nice just to get into our pants and as usual, the genuinely nice ones finish last. It's a bug eat bug world out there.
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