“So you’re telling me that you never want to be happy with a man? You’re just going to push everyone away aren’t you?”
No mother (and other friends), obviously if I found a dude who found my wise ass cracks undeniably charming I’d lock that shit down real quick.
HOWEVER…that has not happened yet. So yes. I am going to ignore the stage five clinger that leaves me six text messages and two voicemails in a one-hour period…I wish that was an exaggeration.
And yes, I’m going to be a complete lady douche (the act of, not the product) to majority of men I meet…in hopes to ward off stage five clingers that leave me six text messages and two voicemails in a one-hour period.
Seriously, I’m cool and decently cute (in the right lighting) but I’m not, "leave me six text messages and two voicemails in a one-hour period," cute.
It’s not that I don’t want to find my significant other, because eventually sure, my high metabolism will catch up to me and I’ll need to lock down a dude before these love handles get out of control…. Well that, and I know I’ll be way to fucking lazy to take care of 15 cats when I’m older… or myself, for that matter.
I’m just not “Sarahjessicaparking” it all over the city, yah know?
Side note: Sarahjessicaparking is a term I coined to mean, “Ladies who run around NYC drunk and half-starved, trying to find their soul mates, who then in turn write about it in their shitty blogs while laughing at the shitty puns and terms they just made up… and they are probably drinking some sort of cheap liquor, too.”
So technically, yes, at this moment in time I am Sarahjessicaparking the shit out my blog right now. Fuck off.
Any who, I just don’t care about this whole soul-mate searching shindig. I’ve found Hellman’s mayo, Saturday Night Live, Michelob Ultra and youporn.com; I’ll be content for years.
Call me selfish, but have you ever mixed Hellman’s mayo with Heinz ketchup? It’s life changing.
But if someone conveniently drops my soul mate into my lap while making my fancy sauce…then…you know…I’m down.
So until that happens, I’ll probably keep on pushing away all the “acceptable men” in my life… and my mother will keep yelling at me over the phone “He was Jewish and a lawyer?!? God damnit, Natalie. Marry him.”
"Yes, mom. A successful jewish lawyer...with a coke addiction."