My Brownies Bring All The Boys To The Yard

Darling readers, I have a crush.

You don’t know me well yet, so let me explain. I’m not a crush girl. Mostly, this is because I have standards. Mile-high, you-best-get-your-spaceship-ready standards. It’s not enough that a guy be cute and possess a working reproductive system. In order for me to get interested, that hardcore fantasizing-about-matching-Volvos interested, he usually has to: use big words, love to travel, wear sweaters occasionally, make me laugh, have a beard, and – ideally – be able to quote Hemingway on a whim. I really go for that tall, dark, kills at Scrabble type. They’re a bit thin on the ground.

Then, I met this guy. Let’s call him Bjorn. He looks like a Norse god and is one of the smartest people I’ve ever met. He also: infuriates the hell out of me, can be a bit of a know-it-all (Hello, pot! My name is kettle!), is impossible to read, and treats me like his younger sister. Readers, we once got into a fight about unicorns. Yes, the mythological virgin-loving creatures with horns. It was the most ridiculous 10 minutes of my life. (Though, you’ll be glad to note: I won.) And yet, to quote our dear Mae…I rather dig his chili.

Luckily, a game night was recently planned, hosted by Bjorn and his roommate, Captain Thoughtful. We were to eat, drink, and play Scattergories. The perfect chance to set myself apart! Nothing says Take me now! like bonding over your brilliant triple-score answer to Things People Gossip About (Who Slept With Whom…please hold your applause).

Yet, what if my mad board game skills weren’t enough? Cue conundrum. How exactly does one win the regard of such an odd, but dreamy, creature? Tradition, that darling institution, presented me with some guidelines:

  1. Wear a revealing outfit. Men, we are often reminded, can’t keep their eyes off a woman’s curvier bits. Donning a low-cut shirt, flaunting Watson & Crick like a pair of gravity-defying cantaloupes would surely work.
  2. Smell like Little Debbie. Anyone who has ever read Cosmo has heard the research. Men, it seems, love it when a woman smells like vanilla, sugar, or anything edible. I obviously needed a bottle of Hermes’ new scent, Eau de Macaroni-et-Fromage.
  3. Laugh. At everything. Men love to believe themselves funny. A giggling, simpering audience is mancrack. Sure, that conversation about the finer points of Orthodox Judaism may seem like a serious discussion, but a girl must soldier on. Bat those eyelashes and laugh whenever he says “Talmudic,” if you must.
  4. Unleash your inner Betty Crocker. The way to a man’s heart? Oh, not his brain, my dear naive butterlump. His stomach! Everyone knows that. Just because you’ve worked a ninety-hour week at the hospital, saving lives, doesn’t mean you can shirk your womanly duty. Bake something! Anything! Just make it from scratch. He’ll know otherwise.

Unfotunately, I have an embarrassing aversion to: dressing like a Kardashian, luring cannibals with my perfume (pre-seasoned blonde medical student! score!), and giggling in general. Baking, however, is something I can handle. So, I made my famous brownies. You know, the ones my aunt requests every time she’s in town, have been known to cure the flu, and are made in a special edge-only pan? It was on!

I slaved over the brownie batter for ten whole minutes, baked them to the perfect squishyness, and arranged them in an artful tower on one of my fancy Spode Christmas plates. When we arrived at the game night, I placed them in a spot of honor between the Heineken and the cheese cubes. All night, people gasped out their amazement. “These brownies are incredible!” was uttered over and over again. Even, I’m pleased to tell you, by Bjorn. It worked! I won his heart with baked goods!

We are getting married next week.

Psych! He still thinks of me as a younger sister. The only change? I’m down one Spode plate, after swearing that I wouldn’t take the leftovers home with me. Thanks for nothing, colloquialisms. On the bright side, I totally owned at both Scattergories and Taboo. Board game domination is just as good as a steamy Viking make-out, right?



20 thoughts on “My Brownies Bring All The Boys To The Yard

  1. I had a huge crush on this one guy, and much like yourself this was not an everyday thing – there was just something different about him. However, I was pretty sure he saw me at the time as no more than the girl who made his White Mocha. He was in a band and his friend the guitar player, who did happen to have a crush on me, invited me to practice one day. I rushed home after class and whipped together some brownies.
    I had limited time, so I tweaked the cook time and temp to fit my needs – it was a terrible idea. The brownies came out, well more like bricks than brownies. I brought them anyway and everyone at practice ate one to be nice.
    The guy I had the crush on, the drummer in the band – well, we’ve been dating nearly five years now (and I actually forgot about our brownie meeting until now).
    Good luck with your brownie baking and future dating πŸ™‚

  2. NICE!! This made me laugh sooo much! You are a riot!
    Thanks so much! I had no choice but to read this after you titled it like this!

  3. Yes, nothing is quite as satisfying as pwning someone in board games!
    But good luck with the guy though! And it’s better to dress like a Kardashian than to dress like a Lohan or a Tara Reid.

    • Right? I’m so glad other people understand the importance of proper board game pwnage, Drew. Also…you have a really great point on the Kardashian conundrum. I would way rather wear too much leopard print than not enough important-bits-coverage. Thanks for the good luck wishes and the comment!

  4. I wore a turtleneck (yes, very sad, albeit a velvet one) to my first date with the guy now my husband…The little sister thing is annoying, but maybe not a board game…Can you trounce him at tennis or squash or…hmmm..drinking? He sounds dishy. Good luck!

    • Oh, good call. I do have a pretty great tennis serve! Maybe I just need to move this courtship out onto the court? Drinking would probably be the more fun option, but he’s a 6’3” viking and I’m a bit of lightweight…he’d drink me under the table three times over. Thanks for the good luck wishes! And…velvet is always hot, turtleneck or no. πŸ˜‰

  5. One time I made these fantastic vietnamese pork egg rolls to lure a hot guy I had my eye on. When I handed him the plate he reminded me that he was a vegetarian. D’oh! I still think he shouldn’t have eaten one to be polite. (Then for sure he would have fallen in love with me.)

    • Oh my gosh, Jennie! That would be so embarrassing, though…obviously he was missing out by being a vegetarian, because fantastic pork egg rolls are *not* found every day. He would’ve definitely fallen in love with you, though you’re better off without him – you need someone who appreciates a proper eggroll. πŸ˜‰ Thanks for the great comment!

    • Ha! Thanks, Hook. What’s sad is the nickname I call him in real life actually is way more creative. In lieu of making him more anonymous, lest he stumble across this blog and figure out my brownie-wooing strategies, I went with its sadder, lamer cousin. I hoped no one would notice! Thanks for foiling my plans, yo! πŸ˜‰

  6. Hahaha, I’m sure Watson and Crick would appreciate being namesakes to your wobblies!
    Anyway, in my experience, anything too thought-out will inevitably fail. In other words, if someone tickles your fancy, just follow that spur of the moment and tell him. Sure, you might end up being rejected but at least you won’t end up in a relationship where you can’t be yourself and always have to wear Kardashian outfits, of all things. Or bake brownies all the time.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s