Do you speak my language?

Having a daily chat with my good friend, JS, I think we found a way of describing what we want from men.

MEN.
Are you reading this?
We want you to speak our language.

Lesson:
Each woman has her own specific language.
(JS has her own. I have mine. We each do.)
It's not just her native tongue.
(English, Spanish, etc.)
I'm talking about... you gotta translate my specific form of crazy.
And make it fluent.
You gotta take all that PMS and morning talk and whatever it is that I like versus what I hate and make ALL OF THAT SH*T into a freakin' symphony.

Become my male Annie Sullivan. I personally think that everything I say makes total and utter sense.
This is obviously not the case.
Otherwise, I would be G-D or the President or what have you.
I realize that I am not any of those things.

BUT... I deserve you to at least try to understand what I want versus what I need.

AND PUH-LEASE.......
Don't tell me that because you're a dude that you don't speak my language and that you never will.

DUDE! If I like you... I can tell you NOW that I try my best to understand you.
To put myself in your shoes.
To listen to your gripes and B.S.
And try to give you the honest, nice, loyal answer in my lexicon, boo-boo.

But I highly doubt that you do the same for me.

I've had 2 triflin' MEN in the past 2 months think that they understand me.
And believe me... I'm being modest. I'm HOT shit, but my vag ain't made of gold. Ya dig?

But the problem is... I understand these men's languages.
I figured them out, and frankly, both of them kept translating to:

P-E-N-I-S-I-N-P-U-S-S-Y-T-O-D-A-Y-?-!-?

I am sick of those smoke signals. They only lead to more fire, and other problems.

For the man out there that does want to get to know me...
GROW SOME BALLS. And BECOME A GENTLEMAN.
Trust me, that's the 1st page in the Fluency book, free of charge.

~Feisty Actress