Friday, October 18, 2013

Ah, Fuck it!

Hello my beauties!

Well, I suppose we all knew this was inevitable. It's time to get me back on the market.

I'm in such a hot, sexy prison right now, I can't even stand it. 

At the moment, however, I'm battling a little bit of Manhate. Why, you ask with such concern?

Because men are stupid, that is my answer. Don't worry though. I think women are stupid too. Basically, I hate everyone, and mix cocktails in the dark whilst muttering black thoughts to myself and shooing mewing cats away from my slipper-clad feet.

First, I am continually, wildly disappointed in my men friends. Not all, mind you. A select few I still text very hopefully, but the general lot I am finding are really annoying.

The concept of male/female friendship seems to have gone out the window. I clearly am not capable of being friends with a man without desperately seeking to remove all his clothing AT ONCE SIR.

This seem to largely tie into the fact that I can only be their friend until they start dating someone. That someone assumes I wish nothing more than to remove the clothes of the male friend I had somehow magically controlled my baser impulses around up to this point, but now that this friend is in a relationship, I clearly seek to destroy it.

Ladies, a word of advice. Let your men have female friends, even attractive ones. And be NICE to those female friends. If I like you, I won't sleep with your man. If you piss me off... there really are no promises. I may just show up at his house at random and flash some boob, not because I would take pleasure from it but because I really just want to make you that mad because you took my friend away and I no longer have anyone to grab a beer with on Friday nights. Okay, Tuesdays.

I just like hanging out with people who are impressed by how much I can eat.

There's no way of sugar coating that. If you piss me off, I will show your boyfriend my tits. You've all been warned. If you're sweet to me, we will all be best friends until the end of time and I will casually laugh off his jokes about threesomes that make us both uncomfortable.

Another thing I'm sure most women who have reached my age (year "supple") have noticed is that rejecting a man, honestly and openly, but still asking if they want to be friends leads them to lie. They just lie. Yes, that's okay. No, not a problem. We'll still be buds. UNTIL A CHICK WHO WANTS TO DATE ME COMES ALONG.

At that point, I cease to exist. Thanks, pal.

Honestly, this has happened so many times I could literally market my life's story for a movie plot and be financially set for life. Yes, it might end up on Lifetime because my life basically sucks, but you get the point. I'm somewhere in between "Good Luck Chuck" and "Misery." I honestly pray those in question all end up divorced.

I have already mentioned the problematic situation of being forced to go single to a wedding, as a bridesmaid, where I will no doubt be pitied and possibly stoned to death by older Polish relatives.

Since I have literally no one left to hang out with in this fucking hick town, and being denied the ability to bring one of the very few men left that I can honestly call my friend, this all chased me back to online dating in some vague hope that I'd meet someone who, if not worthy of introducing to friends, could at least keep me company on a Friday night until I could find someone else to keep me company on Saturday night.

Let's face it, I require a lot of attention.

Interestingly, the men who noted my return to OKC were those I had already been in contact with previously...

This includes Gerard Butler Guy, who holds onto the ridiculous optimism that maybe I've ignored him and dodged his texts and messages for months because I'm just so into him it scares me. Clearly his dull personality and unwillingness to pick up the tab have not taken him off the market.

It also includes what actually amounts to a "slew" of writers, as well. Apparently putting that I'm more or less of a writer on my profile inspires other people who consider themselves writers to think we have something in common. You know what makes me immediately not like someone? Potential competition.

Be good at math. We'll encompass all aspects together. Do not be a better writer than me or I will hate you. I am not even going to pretend I'm not petty in this. I have very few talents of which I am proud, and I refuse to date someone who is, in actuality, more talented at writing. That only leaves me drinking and picking up stray cats.

Only whites. Reds taste like feet. 

However, writers can at least hold on a conversation (via messaging, text, Facebook, and any other media that primarily involves typing thought). I've got a good handful that were happy to see me back online, that know the difference between "too" and "to" (and "two"), and thought the pictures I added of me making stupid-ass faces were "sexy."

That's one good thing about writers - we are idiots. I made a joke about constantly wearing sweatpants (I am literally wearing sweatpants as I write this. I wear sweatpants 96% of of the week), and he countered with a joke about how the only way I could be sexier was if I ate potato chips in bed.

I hope you meant that, fucker, because don't even try to pry this bag away from me.

You know who love lazy women? Writers. And Philosophy majors.

And the unemployed (this includes both writers and philosophy majors).

... In conclusion, I hate most men and most women, but I'm going to try to date again anyway. Whatever. At some point I still like to think I'll get something meaningful out of this experiment.

Let's do this.
It's probably wisdom. Yeah. Wisdom.

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