Listen humans of the Earth.. I do not want to sit here and act like I am this almighty woman wizard (I wish tho, amirite!?) that has the magic ability to teach all men how to stop being so flippin’ stupid..
..but I’m sure as frick going to try.
Men.. STOP. BEING. SO. FREAKING. DUMB.
Please. Just please.
Like.. I have no words. Sike, of course I do. You lovely peaches know me so well.
Also, hi to the guy that this blog is about, because I know you are reading it.
It all started with me being bored on a Monday night and thinking that I could entertain myself by swiping left and right on the eligible bachelors of Charlotte, NC.
I had heard about a new dating app, Hinge, and thought I would give it a swirly whirl. Why not? Maybe I meet a nice d00d and I can finally have male contact in my life, other than my dog.
Fast forward a couple hours and I begin texting this guy. He was super nice and actually made an effort of asking to take me out. I told him that my brother was coming into town for a week, so I couldn’t go out on a date yet, but that he was more than welcome to meet up with us while we were out and about on the town.
So, the next night, he met us at a local bar and played darts with us. The night after that, he met my friends and I after the Panthers preseason game.
This guy was normal. He was outgoing, good looking, had a stable job, was very nice and tall. He even invited me to the John Mayer concert that next week!
I hit the jackpot, right?
We text for the next couple days and I suddenly begin to think about the process of actually going on a date with someone. Like, the awkward beginning stages of dating where two complete strangers are “getting to know each other”.
It started to scare me. The thought of trying to date someone I didn’t know whatsoever scared me a little bit. Like.. that’s pressure. I don’t know you, bro. I gotta make sure that you aren’t a psychopath dying to collect my skin first. But like.. the process of getting there is WAY too much rn.
Anyway, being the blunt and honest person that I am. I decided that I wasn’t quite ready for anything like I may have originally thought I was. So, I told him just that.
Seems simple enough.
Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh, my tiny tortoises, it was not simple. Let me start with my initial text, clearly stating why I just wanted to keep this at a friendship level.
Wow. What a great response from this fella. “All good”. Well, flippity fantastic! Thanks for understanding and for being a mature , adult male about the situation. That was easy.
An hour later.. he reemerges.
Ok. Let’s break this down-
- You “don’t know what happened“? I just freaking told you what happened. No shit Sherlock that “it’s the equivalent of a girl saying it’s not you, it’s me” because I literally said that and meant it.
- “Everyone is always talking to somebody at some point“? Well, I’m just flattered you think other guys are dying to talk to me. Thanks buttercup.
- I’m “not ready for anything with you” because I said I’m not. Not because grass is greener elsewhere. I’m allergic to grass.
- And ok, you effing imbecile. You clearly didn’t read “The Time a Man Child Ruined My Favorite Taco Place” (plug) because the whole point was about not giving that man my number.
I stayed true to myself and to my reason as to why I didn’t want to pursue anything with you.
But, you better believe I unfollowed this a-hole on social media because I don’t want you stalking me and knowing what I’m doing after you just called me a bull shitter and a liar.
BUT 3 DAYS LATERRRRRRR…
I. FREAKING. CAN. NOT. Like, I was belly laughing so hard that my dog grew concerned that I was convulsing.
And yes, I will go blog and talk about you. It’s like you read my damn mind, David Blaine.
Damn right, I don’t want to be friends with you, psycho. What deep hole in your brain had you thinking I would still want to be friends with you after you freaked out on me like I do when I can’t get the two wings of my cat eye to match?
Fragile egos. FRAGILE EGOS!!! Can we reevaluate who is the one with the fragile ego?
Don’t even try to give me lip, boy. I am the Queen of Lip. Like, I will destroy you with my words. You have no right to be 1) questioning why I don’t want to date you right now and 2) saying I have a “fragile ego” because I denied your ass. Which I am so glad I did, by the flipping way.
Let’s end this with the best text of them all:
THERE IT IS!
THERE’S THE GOLDEN EGG!
You have nothing else to rebuttal with (because, quite frankly, you’re just damn wrong) so you have to attack something about my physical or personal attributes. You’re right, I have no money.
But I can promise you that I have worked a million times harder to be where I am than you will ever work in your entire life.
And you know what? I am “the worst”. I am your worst nightmare. You are just a man child that has a “fragile ego” because a girl didn’t want to date you.
Get over yourself.
Make yourself a steak, have a beer and watch Harry Potter. Relax Princess Petty Pants.
You’ll be just fine.
You don’t need to convince yourself that you’re a “decent guy” anymore, because you’re not. You’re just like all the other d-bags that immediately have a system shut down any time someone denies or argues with you.
I’m sure you think you made me feel bad for saying no to you, but you couldn’t be more wrong. I got a great laugh out of it and some great blog content, so thank you for that. But stay away from me forever.
Now, I’m off to find me some more tacos to eat.
Send me the screenshots of texts, DMs, SnapChats, etc. that you have received from idiotic men to firstname.lastname@example.org, because I really want to write a blog reacting to them. It would give me thorough entertainment and I don’t have cable, so I need it badly.
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