TRUST ME WINGMAN.

Miss Wingman’s not usually one for viral videos, unless they make me literally LOL. Like, for real. But, this quickie little YouTube gem definitely falls into that category.
So sit back, relax and pray like hell while you’re watching this that your own children don’t turn out this stupid one day. Because Monday’s aren’t funny, but this is.

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JONESING WINGMAN: THE ONLY HOCKEY WE’LL SEE THIS SEASON

Normally, Fridays with Miss Wingman involve tales of cyber-romance gone awry in my “Online Dating Horror Stories of the Week” feature. But, since I’ve been out of commission for a while and haven’t received any submissions worthy of showcase this week, I decided to switch it up just this once. Call it a line change, if you will. (Also, send me your tales of dating woe please: misswingman@gmail.com. We feel bad for your misery, but only if it makes us laugh).

For those of you who share my love of hockey, allow me to say A) we are both awesome, clearly and B) this lockout SUCKS. And after yesterday’s Bettman/NHLPA rift just got even larger – seriously, just sort that sh*t out already – I’m beginning to think we might just be out of luck this season.

That’s why this clip, brought to you by the fine folks at Barstool Sports, was an even more welcome sight. For those of you in need of a hockey fix, I give you Russian 10-year-olds in a youth hockey league beating the absolute daylights out of each other. I’m not sure what’s more amazing – the goalie’s haymakers and stick-throwing hissyfit, or the uppercut at 3 minutes in.

This video clarifies a few things in my mind. Firstly, for anyone who’s ever wondered why Russian NHL players are such animals when the gloves come off, this should explain it. Also, their skills are impressive – these kids are ten? Damn. And finally – if my beloved Rangers games saw this much action on the ice, MSG wouldn’t have trouble filling seats every season. Have a badass weekend everyone. --MW.

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CAN MEN AND WOMEN REALLY BE FRIENDS?

It never ceases to amuse me how men and women can look at the same situation from two completely different angles. No place is this disparity more glaring than in matters of male/female friendships.

True story: In having a conversation with a female friend recently, she referred to a guy with whom she spends time. I asked if they’d ever dated before, and her response was, “Oh god no, we’re just friends.”

BOOM. There it was. Her justification for being able to continue hanging out with him: that she felt no weirdness or sexual tension. She simply just didn’t view him “that way.”

I told her I’d bet a million dollars that if a guy asked that same male friend what the nature of his relationship with her was, that his answer would be something along the lines of “I haven’t hit that yet, but as soon as I get the chance, I’m all over it.”

And why am I so sure about that? Because the sad truth is, as much as I’d love to believe differently, men and women can’t just be friends.

No way, no how, no matter how altruistic and pure-intentioned we think we’re capable of being. It just doesn’t work that way.

A woman can look at a male in her life and classify him as a “friend,” with no intention of ever removing him from that platonic category (The dreaded Friend Zone, sorry boys – I’ve tried to help). While a man can look at that same woman and label her not as a “friend,” but more like a female he just hasn’t slept with yet. Both are accurate from each person’s perspective, but the difference is one of intentions. Ours? Harmless. Yours? Up to no good, if we let you.

So in keeping with that honesty, here’s my confession: I’ve always been a girl who enjoyed hanging with the boys more than my own gender. Sure, I have lifelong friendships with girls who I’d trust with my life, and who I thoroughly appreciate and value. That type of female camaraderie is precious. But that said, with very few exceptions, I’ve always been more comfortable amongst the Y chromosome crowd. Room full of dudes? My favorite place to be. Room full of females? My own personal version of hell. Even still, I’m under no delusions about the nature of our “friendship.” And any woman who isn’t aware of it should read this, too.

I don’t mean to sound disparaging to my fellow females, but guys are more low maintenance, transparent, and they carry with them very little drama. We, on the other hand, can be finicky, passive aggressive, and tend to place ourselves and our friendships into a social hierarchy in which inevitably someone gets left out.

And if hell hath no fury like a woman scorned? Then watch out, because we can hold grudges with the best of ‘em. So it’s no wonder that some women gravitate toward guy time. We just need to realize that the sexes have entirely different end games in mind.

But going back to the statement that we can’t just be friends, it’s necessary to finish it off with “….unless one of four things is at play.” If one of these factors is activated, then a male/female friendship can exist in perpetuity. And what are those four things? I’m glad you asked, boys, because it’s about to get real up in here.

1- One or both of you is taken. If either side of the friendship has a significant other (or historically has over the duration of your friendship, thus preventing the proper timing needed to act upon your attraction), then it’s fair game. Taking the possibility of hooking up off the table pretty much diffuses the sexual tension time bomb, temporarily at least.

2 – You’ve already consummated that attraction in some way. Whether with just a drunken make out session or a full-blown hook up, if you’ve seen that person with bedhead the next morning, sometimes that’s all the action you need. Once the thrill of the chase is over and you’ve reached that (sometimes anti-climactic) pinnacle, men and women can often go back to being friends. But that doesn’t mean it won’t happen again later down the line. Hey, who doesn’t love a good encore?

3 – Something is legitimately preventing you from taking things to a non-platonic level. What could those things be? That you’ve dated their best friend and are now off-limits, the hot girl is your buddy’s sister (thus he would kill you), or that one of you is flat out not attracted to the other. If you’d rather hook up with a blood relative than get with her or him, that would make it easy to hang out without getting physical. Also, sucks to be them, for what it’s worth.

And finally, 4 – That you just plain haven’t hooked up yet, but it’s coming. And if the case is that it’s bound to happen sooner or later, then you’d better buckle up, because you never know if it’ll be a bumpy ride afterwards.

As with many of my steadfast decrees, I’ll add a final addendum: I reserve the right to be wrong. Perhaps there are totally healthy, platonic friendships out there between men and women. Look at Ryan Reynolds and Sandra Bullock (totally gonna hook up). Or Chandler and Monica (definitely got it on). Or no, here you go – Justin Timberlake and Mila Kunis. Oh hell, who are we kidding? They’ve totally f***ed. Whatever – no disclaimer necessary. See? I was totally right all along.

But whichever category you fall into, realize that true friends are hard to come by. And however you consider said friend – with benefits or without – always remember to consider their feelings above all else. Mostly because it’s good karma, but also because you never know when the embargo could be lifted. Happy Friday, my friends. May your weekends be filled with good company, great possibility and even better stories –MW.THAT’S WHAT SHE SAID

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AMERICANA WINGMAN: HAPPY BDAY, USA

Happy fourth, Wingman faithful. While I’ve been busy OD’ing on wholesome summer fun (think sprinkler runs, corn on the cob and sticky ice cream faces), I’ve been thinking about what this holiday really means. And so far I’ve come up with the following: time with family, the smell of barbecue, lightning bugs, cold beer on the patio, sandy toes and, of course, the birth of our nation.

And what a badass one she is at that.

For all of her flaws, on this the anniversary of the birth of our country, it’s only fair that we salute her, the men and women who defend her, and all of the ideals we’ve fought to uphold for the past 236 years.

Say what you will about our undeniably-flawed U.S of A., what you can’t deny is that here anything is possible. She might not always be the prettiest girl at the dance, but she’s ours. Like it or not.

And what better embodiment of old-fashioned 4th of July nostalgia than a nod to our national pastime? Forget apple pie, and move over flag-waving parades and firework displays. It is my patriotic duty to bring you one of my longtime favorites, “The Sandlot.” Because nothing says “Americana” like baseball and smack talk (“you’re killing me, Smalls”).

So enjoy this clip, take care of one another, and whatever you do – don’t play ball like a girl.

http://youtu.be/ACXta-oH1lU

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TRASHY WINGMAN: DARE YOU NOT TO LAUGH

It’s been a busy week here at Miss Wingman, so forgive me this short-but-sweet posting, boys. But have no fear – I promise you’ll enjoy it.

While my legs are still actively hating me after running a pretty savage road race this weekend, my funny bone is luckily still very much intact. Am I phoning it in? Maybe. But will you laugh anyway? For sure. (Um, unless you have one of these names, that is).

So just in case you needed a little levity today, check out this scene from the upcoming Mark Wahlberg, probably-mindless-but-definitely-funny movie “Ted.” I’ll admit I wasn’t dying to see this film until I saw this clip (and the extended trailer), but now I’m pretty much on the Seth McFarlane For President bandwagon – well, even more than I was before anyway. Click and enjoy, you won’t be sorry.

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FALLEN WINGMAN: A RESPECTFUL PAUSE

While Miss Wingman doesn’t usually delve into serious matters terribly often (unless you count romance serious business – which I do), sometimes a moment of pause is necessary.

Such is the case today, on this most solemn of holidays. In this most stellar of countries, filled with these most remarkable of citizens. Sure she’s got her flaws, but the let no one ever say the fabric of America isn’t woven with the integrity of the people who call her home.

While much is written about the sacrifice that our military men and women make to serve our country – not to mention the sacrifice made by their families – it is a rare piece of work that can make us truly understand that experience. I’ve had occasion not only to write about the personal stories of those affected by the loss of war, but also to have lost friends of my own. Neither of these facts qualify me to speak adequately on their behalf, but I’d like to honor them just the same.

Much of what Miss Wingman encourages is for you to strive to be great men. And I can think of no greater men (and women!) than those who put their own needs aside and step up to the line for the benefit of us all. Whether it’s stories like this one giving a face to the fallen, or the man who’s running across the country right now to “honor the fallen by challenging the living” (donate!), outstanding tributes are all around us.

But the most powerful thing I’ve seen recently was the film below, based on the true story of Lt. Col. Mike Strobl’s experience when he volunteered to escort the body of Pfc. Chance Phelps home in 2004. I can’t recommend it enough, honestly. So today, while you’re enjoying a sun-drenched BBQ with your loved ones, take a moment to remember those families who have an empty seat at the dinner table. And to the ones we memorialize I just say this: we can salute you and wave flags all day long, but perhaps the best way to show our honor is simply to say, “Thank you.”

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ONLINE DATING HORROR STORY OF THE WEEK: DEJA VU

When I started this feature, I had no idea how many of you would be eager to throw your hats into the, “Oh you think that’s bad? Listen to this!” ring. But it’s a pretty full arena, to say the least. We’ve already heard about dates that involve third parties, fetishes, bodily functions and even blood relatives (remind me not to take any dating tips from you guys, by the way).

This week’s tale isn’t actually about online dating per say, but in a roundabout way still relates back to the topic. Stick with me, you’ll understand. It comes courtesy of Alex in Manhattan – female Alex, that is. Her story is short and sweet, but too good not to share. Drum roll please…

Dennis, the sales rep: I met Dennis through a friend of a friend (coworker, actually). My friend was having a birthday party, so a lot of people in our extended social circle were there, among them a guy named Dennis. When he approached me at the party I thought he was really good looking, but that’s not why I couldn’t stop staring at him. I should’ve actually said, “met AGAIN,” for accuracy’s sake. But I’m jumping ahead…

He flirted heavily, and when he asked me my name I searched his face for a flicker of recognition – nothing. Did I mention that I knew almost instantly that I’d not only gone out with this guy before, but we’d slept together? Yeah, nice to see you again buddy. Thanks for making me feel special.

He continued to try to be charming, and I didn’t let on that I knew who he was. He finally suggested after about 15 minutes of chatting that we should go out, and that he’d love to take me on a date. PS, after we’d hung out the last time he just did the fall-off-the-face-of-the-earth move that guys are notorious for, so I wasn’t exactly lining up for an encore. I played along for a little while, but the more drunk and overconfident he seemed, the more I just wanted to put him in his place.

Finally, after listening to him tell me what he did for a living (I remembered already, since we’d initially met on an online dating site, therefore had exchanged these pleasantries and biographical information already), I interjected. ‘I’m sorry,’ I said, ‘but I just need to interrupt you for a minute. Actually, on second thought, I don’t think a date is a good idea.’ He stared at me dumbfounded.

‘I don’t think it’s a good idea,’ I continued, ‘because if memory serves you didn’t have such great equipment to work with, and also your apartment smelled like a cat. Not only do I hate when guys have cats (*Miss Wingman note: I couldn’t agree more), but I really hate guys who sleep with so many women that they don’t even remember one of them when they’re looking them in the face.’ Now he was not only staring, but his mouth dropped open and he was turning red.

‘So yeah, I think I’ll skip the repeat performance, since you clearly found it as memorable as I did,’ I said. ‘Thanks for reminding me what I’m NOT missing. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go chat up someone who hasn’t seen me naked with no recollection of it. ‘Night.’ And then I walked away. Men of NYC, I implore you: If you’re going to sleep your way through this city, at least try and remember your conquests, thanks.”

Alex: How very gangsta of you, if a little bit angry and harsh (but can’t blame you). A few things here – first, I’m sorry, I just can’t get past the fact that his name was Dennis. I keep having visions of Mr. Belding when I hear this story, make it stop. Secondly: remind me not to get on your bad side. But thanks for the laugh. And finally, to the men out there: I’ll emphasize her last point about remembering your conquests. Not only is it in poor taste to forget, but do it for your own peace of mind. You never know when ghosts from your past will come walking into your life again…and your bar.THAT’S WHAT SHE SAID

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