I’m giving up men for Lent.
I kicked the habit with a hell of an example within reach… far more than just the proverbial straw that broke the camels back.
I’m a glutton for punishment. I set this moment in motion hours ahead of time. I ask for this.
Hard to admit… but so so true.
He’s just not that into me…. and it hits me as I’m walking out in the midst of his “you’re a really nice girl…” speech.
I’m tapping out, with no one to blame but myself.
I have the worst taste in men, imaginable. Seriously…. to the point I could write a bestseller about my disastrous love life.
There’s a few must haves that guarantee I’ll like you.
1. Don’t call. Yeah ever. That’s hot… Ok I so don’t understand this about myself… but my gawd it works. Insult me with your disinterest and I’ll love you forever.
Reason #1 I should not be dating.
2. Cheat… or just care so little about me that you’re still shopping. That’s awesome. Something all the men I’ve been attracted to in the last year have in common, as well. 90% of them feeling completely comfortable shopping right in front of me.
Reason #2 I’m climbing out of the pool.
3. Lie to me. Frankly the truth seems to suck a lot worse from my perspective right now, so I’m not really kidding about this one. Blah.
Reason #3… As a service to womankind I should not be allowed to date until I stop encouraging men to be liars.
#4. Reject me, criticize me, make me doubt myself? I’m completely clueless as to why this is attractive to me…. but damn. I have to admit it’s a pattern they all have in common.
Plenty of reasons why NOT.
I’m done torturing myself.
I’ve officially had it.
I can’t be trusted. My taste in men is detrimental to my health.
Nice doesn’t do it for me.
and BONUS points for February, apparently?
I knew early on, just looking at the situation unfold in front of me…
Three men seated in front of me, all beautiful. All ironed. All clean cut smelling amazing goodness.
My favorite dimpled sales rep is brazenly flirtatious and so damn cute it’s ridiculous. Frat boy delicious with a career.
The new guy is like Barbie’s counterpart Ken, come to life. Tall, broad shoulders, well dressed, in shades of purple even. He’s a visual treat…. and armed with nice words.
S- He told us we were going to a place where there were these hot sisters, pretty girls…etc. He exaggerates sometimes but he wasn’t lying. You’re a very pretty girl.
No I’m awkward now and walking away. The one guy out of three not saying anything nice? Yeah… I want that one.
If I ever complain, ever again, about the bad men in my life? Throw a fucking brick at me, because I create my own hell.
I’m swimming in good options and I only like bottom feeders.
In an entire orchard… I have an uncanny knack for biting into the one apple with a worm.
I joked about it with my sister last night…
J- I think I speak douche bag.
P- Yeah you do, fluently.
Ouch… but yeah… if it’s one thing I can pick out of a room full of men… it’s that guy we all need to try to avoid because he leaves so much to be desired.
I’m going to internet date for material and that’s it. Maybe it’s mean, but oh well- it can’t be worse than this.
I’ve been nice for long enough, I’m going to try being a nightmare for a while.
Nice girls are just as screwed as nice guys and I’ve never been a pain in the ass so perhaps that’s what I’m missing.
……Just as soon as I wash the disappointment of February off.
I’m so thankful there’s only a week left in this nightmare month.