It never ceases to amaze me how little men actually listen. I’m sorry (straight) guys but it’s true. You don’t.
I get it. You are trying to get laid. It’s a dog eat dog world and we all are trying to make some meaning out of our lives (and potentially get laid).
But… OH. DEAR. GOD.
Don’t call me nice. Or sweet. Or fucking zany, for Christ’s sake.
Nice is not an adjective that is ever used to describe me. Ever. I’m a jackass. I do not hide this fact. My “jackassiness” is actually what usually gets me laid. No one likes nice girls anymore. They’re so fucking boring.
Listen to what I’m actually saying to you, gentlemen, before you just start throwing out such outlandish (and quite honestly, hurtful) adjectives.
Perfect example. Met a dude this weekend. Got to talking. Here’s just a snippet of the charming things I spewed out casually over a few Bud Lights:
“You smoke menthol lights? What, are you black?”
“Well maybe if Jews believed in Jesus you wouldn’t be in that mess, but you guys do get a shit ton more holidays than us so I guess it all evens out.”
“That whore sounds like a crazy ass bitch.”
“Catholics drink. Joke about abortions. And go to church twice a year. It’s awesome.”
“When did hand jobs become considered legal tender?”
…this guy called me nice…so yes, we can all safely assume that somebody wasn’t listening to a word I said…he was just starting at my boobs…which in his defense, are awesome.
Granted, that doesn’t mean this dude isn’t completely smitten with the thought of me…because he is…and now I’m dealing with a stage five clinger at the moment (more about that later).
But still, the point is…FUCKING LISTEN, gentlemen. Listen. And be a dick, I respond very well to dicks… probably cause I am one. Oh, and buy me a lot of beer…I respond very well to beer. And then you’ll probably get laid (by me at least).