So, there's this kid. And I kind of like him. And his name is Ian.
If you don't know Ian, take my personality, subtract the bitterness, add testicles and a lot more goofiness. That's Ian.
I work with this kid. That's how we met. I know, I know. You're thinking "No bueno. No good can come of a romance in the workplace." And I'd probably agree with you if you weren't wrong. Hell, I almost did worry that something negative would happen immediately. But, like I said: You're wrong.
Everyone at work loves us as a pair (as well as individually, I might add). If you are reading this and are from work and do not love us as a pair, chances are a.) we probably don't like you and/or b.) you're a sad, lonely person who can't be loved or love another person because you don't truly love yourself. You choose.
Anyways. Kasey is like a proud mom about it. "I knew as soon as Ian started working here that you two would get together! I'm like a millionaire matchmaker!" Sadly, I'm not a millionaire, Kasey. And neither is Ian. Though that would make the relationship that much better (jk [just in case]).
And even AmyFisher, THE BOSS, said that she knew about us before we even knew about us. And she approves! Talk about being given the blessing!
And just think, if this kid had never threatened to touch me, I probably never would have texted him to tell him that, no, he cannot touch me. And then I wouldn't have continued texting him. And I wouldn't have given him the worst hug in the history of mankind. And we wouldn't have talked through out my entire trip to Florida. And the day I got home from Florida, I wouldn't have visited him at Rutter's. And that night, I wouldn't have gone to a crappy bonfire with him and AndyMay. And I wouldn't have held his hand under a blanket. And I wouldn't have impetuously kissed him. And we wouldn't be as blissfully happy as we are now.
I forgot what else I was going to say about this kid. Oh, yes: he's cute. And I like him. And he thinks I'm pretty. Because he's smart.
Also, I know that being in a relationship kind of ruins the "Going Steadily Single" name. But I will consider myself "unsingle" when I'm married.
Thank you. That is all.
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
Thursday, January 19, 2012
Run your mouth more than anyone I've ever known
I just read a blog post by a used-to-be friend saying that I was her enemy. The whole post was about me and how horrible of a person I am and how I'm mean to everyone and how I stab everyone in the back. Dude, completely dead-on.
Not.
This one goes out to you, Brittni.
I won't lie, I am mean to everyone. I don't mean it in a hurtful way, I mean it in a "I don't really care what you think of me" way.
But calling me a backstabber? That's truly the gem of the post. I never once stabbed you in the back. I don't know if I ever purposely stabbed ANYONE in the back. You wanna talk about backstabbing? How about telling people that I'm a whore? How about spreading around that I cheat on all my boyfriends? How about telling my other friends that I'm a "horrible person" to the point where I'm alienated? How about denying all the things that multiple people have told me you said about me? How about that?
I don't know how I ever, EVER treated you badly, or rather, worse than others.
That time when you cleaned my house WHEN I TOLD YOU NOT TO while I was at work and then you insisted that I bring you a pizza to thank you? No. I told you not to. When I saw you did it anyways, I thanked you. But I'm not buying you a pizza when we had no agreement. I guess you could construe that as mean, but you I see it as some kind of contractual entrapment, and that was just dumb of you.
And what people are you closer to that I also apparently hurt while we were, as you put it, "friends?" Because frankly, you were one of the only people I ever talked to back then. Is it your exboyfriend? Ha. Probably not. Because really, he's the only person I can even imagine "hurting" way back when, but he and I are cool and I know that you two certainly aren't.
And you're saying that people told you that you weren't a mean person when we were together? Hilarious. Because as I recall, many people told you that you were a (pardon my language) bitch when we were together. Not because of me, because, really, we were kind of inseparable, but because you felt the need to act like you were in some kind of control of everyone.
So you've grown from the experience of our friendship? God, I sure hope so. Because when we were friends, you were the rudest, most abrasive, most obnoxious person I had ever had the delight to be acquainted with.
But you still can't spell "per se."
Oh, and when your "enemy" says hello to you in passing, you say it back. You don't roll your eyes and act like they don't exist.
And just so you know, you're not my enemy. I don't even really care about you, besides the fact that you have nothing courteous to say to or about me, even though we'd been friends for a couple years. My enemy is the spread of unhappiness. Wait, yeah, I guess that would make you my enemy. :)
So, just so everyone knows, I'm aware that the blog post that I mentioned was likely posted knowing I would probably see it and have an adverse reaction. You're welcome. I don't like proving people wrong.
Not.
This one goes out to you, Brittni.
I won't lie, I am mean to everyone. I don't mean it in a hurtful way, I mean it in a "I don't really care what you think of me" way.
But calling me a backstabber? That's truly the gem of the post. I never once stabbed you in the back. I don't know if I ever purposely stabbed ANYONE in the back. You wanna talk about backstabbing? How about telling people that I'm a whore? How about spreading around that I cheat on all my boyfriends? How about telling my other friends that I'm a "horrible person" to the point where I'm alienated? How about denying all the things that multiple people have told me you said about me? How about that?
I don't know how I ever, EVER treated you badly, or rather, worse than others.
That time when you cleaned my house WHEN I TOLD YOU NOT TO while I was at work and then you insisted that I bring you a pizza to thank you? No. I told you not to. When I saw you did it anyways, I thanked you. But I'm not buying you a pizza when we had no agreement. I guess you could construe that as mean, but you I see it as some kind of contractual entrapment, and that was just dumb of you.
And what people are you closer to that I also apparently hurt while we were, as you put it, "friends?" Because frankly, you were one of the only people I ever talked to back then. Is it your exboyfriend? Ha. Probably not. Because really, he's the only person I can even imagine "hurting" way back when, but he and I are cool and I know that you two certainly aren't.
And you're saying that people told you that you weren't a mean person when we were together? Hilarious. Because as I recall, many people told you that you were a (pardon my language) bitch when we were together. Not because of me, because, really, we were kind of inseparable, but because you felt the need to act like you were in some kind of control of everyone.
So you've grown from the experience of our friendship? God, I sure hope so. Because when we were friends, you were the rudest, most abrasive, most obnoxious person I had ever had the delight to be acquainted with.
But you still can't spell "per se."
Oh, and when your "enemy" says hello to you in passing, you say it back. You don't roll your eyes and act like they don't exist.
And just so you know, you're not my enemy. I don't even really care about you, besides the fact that you have nothing courteous to say to or about me, even though we'd been friends for a couple years. My enemy is the spread of unhappiness. Wait, yeah, I guess that would make you my enemy. :)
So, just so everyone knows, I'm aware that the blog post that I mentioned was likely posted knowing I would probably see it and have an adverse reaction. You're welcome. I don't like proving people wrong.
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
"Hey, are you done with that?"
I have a feeling this is going to be a short, angry, passive-agressive post.
Let's talk about SloppySeconds. I don't mean the urbandictionary.com definition of SloppySeconds. I mean the little more moral SloppySeconds where you date someone else's exes. No, not someone else's one ex. EXES. Plural.
It's not okay. Well, sometimes it's okay, but I'll get to the exceptions at the end.
Right now, one of my exes' exes is dating one of my other exes. Reading that, it makes little to no sense... So let me try to clarify. I was in a relationship with "Frank" for a couple of months. We broke up. He started dating "Denise." I started dating "Horace." Horace and I ended things. Frank and Denise got engaged. Frank and Denise then broke up. A couple months later, Horace and Denise are now dating. Do you understand now?
I mean, I guess I should be flattered. Denise obviously wants to follow in my footsteps and make the same mistakes I did (no offense to my mistakes, if you happen to read this). And she is an obvious downgrade (no offense to the downgrade, if you happen to read this [Who am I kidding? I don't care if you're offended.]) so it kind of makes me feel good about my decision to end things with Frank and Horace.
So, you want my hand-me-downs, Denise? Fine. I'll make you a list. After Horace, there were Miles, Roger, Sebastian, and Abraham, but none of them ever really amounted to anything more than flirting and maybe a kiss. Oh, and between Frank and Horace was Issaac. He's in jail now, but he kind of seems to be your (well, really, OUR) type, so I wish you luck. And before Frank, the more important ones were Albert, Ezra, Jason, and Theodore. Three of them are married and one is on a church mission. Best of luck for those, too. Oh, and please don't give ME the stinkeye when you come into MY workplace. I have to be there. You don't. And, really, I see no reason for you to hate me. Unless your suitors talk about me nonstop. Then, hate away.
I almost forgot to list the exceptions for why SloppySeconds could be okay:
Let's talk about SloppySeconds. I don't mean the urbandictionary.com definition of SloppySeconds. I mean the little more moral SloppySeconds where you date someone else's exes. No, not someone else's one ex. EXES. Plural.
It's not okay. Well, sometimes it's okay, but I'll get to the exceptions at the end.
Right now, one of my exes' exes is dating one of my other exes. Reading that, it makes little to no sense... So let me try to clarify. I was in a relationship with "Frank" for a couple of months. We broke up. He started dating "Denise." I started dating "Horace." Horace and I ended things. Frank and Denise got engaged. Frank and Denise then broke up. A couple months later, Horace and Denise are now dating. Do you understand now?
I mean, I guess I should be flattered. Denise obviously wants to follow in my footsteps and make the same mistakes I did (no offense to my mistakes, if you happen to read this). And she is an obvious downgrade (no offense to the downgrade, if you happen to read this [Who am I kidding? I don't care if you're offended.]) so it kind of makes me feel good about my decision to end things with Frank and Horace.
So, you want my hand-me-downs, Denise? Fine. I'll make you a list. After Horace, there were Miles, Roger, Sebastian, and Abraham, but none of them ever really amounted to anything more than flirting and maybe a kiss. Oh, and between Frank and Horace was Issaac. He's in jail now, but he kind of seems to be your (well, really, OUR) type, so I wish you luck. And before Frank, the more important ones were Albert, Ezra, Jason, and Theodore. Three of them are married and one is on a church mission. Best of luck for those, too. Oh, and please don't give ME the stinkeye when you come into MY workplace. I have to be there. You don't. And, really, I see no reason for you to hate me. Unless your suitors talk about me nonstop. Then, hate away.
I almost forgot to list the exceptions for why SloppySeconds could be okay:
- There are only a handful of survivors from a plane crash stuck on an island and they eventually run out of people to be romantically exclusive with who haven't dated everyone else.
- You're a member of the Mormon YSAs in a few-and-far-between area and to survive you must date everyone until you find The One.
- The end.
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Send me away with the words of a love song
This is morbid. I'll start out by saying that.
With all these people young people dying in car accidents and such lately, I need to make sure things are taken care of if I pass suddenly. See, I told you it was morbid.
To start, I don't want to be buried in something ugly or sad. I want to be in my red and black flannel shirt, a band shirt, my grey henley, or tiedye. I hate going to funerals and seeing the lost dressed in their worst church wear.
Speaking of clothing, NO ONE is to wear black or grey or depressing colors to my funeral or viewing. I want happy colors: yellows and pinks and neon greens and sky blues and lavenders. No black anything!!
To get in, you must bring a balloon. I don't care if it's mylar or latex (if you have a latex allergy, sorry: you probably should come see me) or a balloon animal or one of those punchy balloons. The first two must be filled with helium. Bonus points if you have a helium filled balloon animal. If you don't bring a balloon, you need to find one. If you can't find one, you need to try harder. If you really, really can't find one, you must make a ten dollar donation to the ASPCA.
If anyone brings an invisible dog, they also get bonus points. And if you come without the wire leash thing and just say "The dog is around here somewhere..." you get points taken away.
I don't really know what points I'm talking about, but I trust that the people who love me will figure something out for the points.
If anyone insists on a vigil, I need you to sing Johnny Cash, 3Oh!3, Frank Sinatra, The Ready Set, and Gavin Degraw. Even without a vigil, you need to sing.
And don't think you can get in without following my set of rules. There will be a bouncer there. Trust me.
And don't think I'm joking about any of this. I hope that since you read this, that means you care and that you want to make me happy. And the above would make me happy. So make sure this happens. Yameen?
The end.
Also, if anyone decides to be dramatic and let go of their helium balloons after I'm in the ground, I swear I will put together a band of ghouls and we will haunt your butt for the rest of your life. You're hurting our environment. We're going to make you pay.
With all these people young people dying in car accidents and such lately, I need to make sure things are taken care of if I pass suddenly. See, I told you it was morbid.
To start, I don't want to be buried in something ugly or sad. I want to be in my red and black flannel shirt, a band shirt, my grey henley, or tiedye. I hate going to funerals and seeing the lost dressed in their worst church wear.
Speaking of clothing, NO ONE is to wear black or grey or depressing colors to my funeral or viewing. I want happy colors: yellows and pinks and neon greens and sky blues and lavenders. No black anything!!
To get in, you must bring a balloon. I don't care if it's mylar or latex (if you have a latex allergy, sorry: you probably should come see me) or a balloon animal or one of those punchy balloons. The first two must be filled with helium. Bonus points if you have a helium filled balloon animal. If you don't bring a balloon, you need to find one. If you can't find one, you need to try harder. If you really, really can't find one, you must make a ten dollar donation to the ASPCA.
If anyone brings an invisible dog, they also get bonus points. And if you come without the wire leash thing and just say "The dog is around here somewhere..." you get points taken away.
I don't really know what points I'm talking about, but I trust that the people who love me will figure something out for the points.
If anyone insists on a vigil, I need you to sing Johnny Cash, 3Oh!3, Frank Sinatra, The Ready Set, and Gavin Degraw. Even without a vigil, you need to sing.
And don't think you can get in without following my set of rules. There will be a bouncer there. Trust me.
And don't think I'm joking about any of this. I hope that since you read this, that means you care and that you want to make me happy. And the above would make me happy. So make sure this happens. Yameen?
The end.
Also, if anyone decides to be dramatic and let go of their helium balloons after I'm in the ground, I swear I will put together a band of ghouls and we will haunt your butt for the rest of your life. You're hurting our environment. We're going to make you pay.
Thursday, November 10, 2011
Don't want your bad, bad Bromance
So, I know it's been awhile since I've released bloggily. And, okay, I know this deviates from my usual theme of dating. So let me justify: I do not want to date someone like this.
Seriously. This has been getting on my nerves lately. Like to the point where I might get violent.
What I'm talking about here is ManHugs. You know what it is. When men hug for just a little too long.
So why do I hate this? Because. It's disturbing. And before any homosexual males who may read this by some freak coincidence where they were actually trying to read a fabulous friend's blog and stumbled onto mine by mistake by switching a letter around, let me clarify for your sparkly sake: I'm referring to when two STRAIGHT males hug. Gay guys hugging is a natural thing for me (I was in colorguard, so there's that). And I'm not bothered by the quick half-second rap on the back hug. But when to straight guys hug for more than 4 seconds, I hate it. They think it's humorous. It's not humorous. It may be slightly humorous at Second 5, but after that, you make me feel uncomfortable, and I know I'm not alone. If you need to hug another man for that long, you need to come out of the closet. I promise. Are you trying to impress the girls? Well, you probably think it's working since they're laughing. Wrong. We're laughing because we're trying to diffuse the awkward situation you're insisting on creating.
And then when to men stand with their arms around each other. I don't mean around the shoulders. Around the shoulders is a camaraderie thing set aside for pictures, drunken singing, and huddles. It shows that you are willing to work as one and is respected by the public. That's fine. And one man with his arm around the shoulders of another while latter stands there usually involves two separate generations, be it grandfather and grandson or pedophile and JV football player. One is acceptable, while the other is not. But that's not what I'm getting at.... When two men are standing with their arms around each other's waists, once again, it's a little gay. There's probably more laughing from the girls, but not the good laughter.
I could berate some more, but I need to go to bed. So, remember keep the length of the hug to a minimum.
Exceptions:
Seriously. This has been getting on my nerves lately. Like to the point where I might get violent.
What I'm talking about here is ManHugs. You know what it is. When men hug for just a little too long.
So why do I hate this? Because. It's disturbing. And before any homosexual males who may read this by some freak coincidence where they were actually trying to read a fabulous friend's blog and stumbled onto mine by mistake by switching a letter around, let me clarify for your sparkly sake: I'm referring to when two STRAIGHT males hug. Gay guys hugging is a natural thing for me (I was in colorguard, so there's that). And I'm not bothered by the quick half-second rap on the back hug. But when to straight guys hug for more than 4 seconds, I hate it. They think it's humorous. It's not humorous. It may be slightly humorous at Second 5, but after that, you make me feel uncomfortable, and I know I'm not alone. If you need to hug another man for that long, you need to come out of the closet. I promise. Are you trying to impress the girls? Well, you probably think it's working since they're laughing. Wrong. We're laughing because we're trying to diffuse the awkward situation you're insisting on creating.
And then when to men stand with their arms around each other. I don't mean around the shoulders. Around the shoulders is a camaraderie thing set aside for pictures, drunken singing, and huddles. It shows that you are willing to work as one and is respected by the public. That's fine. And one man with his arm around the shoulders of another while latter stands there usually involves two separate generations, be it grandfather and grandson or pedophile and JV football player. One is acceptable, while the other is not. But that's not what I'm getting at.... When two men are standing with their arms around each other's waists, once again, it's a little gay. There's probably more laughing from the girls, but not the good laughter.
I could berate some more, but I need to go to bed. So, remember keep the length of the hug to a minimum.
Exceptions:
- Friend is leaving for a long time. (Only one long hug permitted)
- Friend has just returned after a long time. (Only one long hug permitted)
- Friend just saved your life/ you just save the friend's life (Hug must not exceed 6 seconds)
- Friend had a recent death in his immediate family (One to two separate hugs permitted)
- Finding out your friend is actually an immediate family member (One long hug permitted)
- Friend just won the Super Bowl or lottery (As many long hugs as will get you the proper hookups)
- Friend is dying from debilitating disease (One long hug permitted)
- Friend has fully recovered from debilitating disease (One medium length hug followed by many high fives)
- Friend has just been stricken with lock jaw and can't move his body (Finish out the hug and then safely remove him from your body)
- Friend has passed out from illness while hugging you (Safely recline him as soon as possible)
- Friend has passed out from inebriation while hugging you (Get him off you as soon as possible, no matter how forceful you must be [you should also probably shower])
- You didn't listen to my advice and you hugged for so long that your friend died from natural causes while hugging you (and, obviously, without your knowledge) and rigor mortis has already set in (I don't really care. You don't care about my advice anyway.)
Sunday, July 31, 2011
And why we're patient, no one knows.
I'm not meant to wait. Not for anyone or anything. I'm completely impatient. I don't know if I can make it anymore simple than that.
I couldn't wait two years for a guy. I can't wait four months for a guy. Hell, I don't even want to wait an hour for a guy.
So let's talk about that, guys. If you knew we were supposed to hang out at a certain point, don't be late. And if you really know me, you should be early. Let's make an example. Hmmm. Ok, so let's say you, me, and some friends were supposed to go to a festival (yeh, I know that's a weird choice, but it applies) at 5pm. I call you at 4 to see if we could go a little early. You tell me that that wouldn't be possible because you're actually going to be late because you're hanging out with one of your bros twenty minutes away and you still have to come home and shower and you're not done hanging out yet. Well. That doesn't fly. Here's why: You knew we were hanging out at that certain time and you have a very poor reason as to why you can't be there on time. Also, I had to call YOU to find out you were going to be late. AND it makes me feel like a jerk when I tell my friends you're not coming because I'm not waiting for you because you're stupid.
So if I wouldn't wait for something like that, what makes you think I would wait for someone who isn't ready for a relationship with me. Best excuse that I've heard? "Well, I don't know if it's going to work out with me and Brandisha." (I don't actually know a Brandisha so I'm using that name) If you're not interested in being with me now and would rather be with someone else "temporarily," that means you don't want to be with me ever. At least that's how I'm going to take it.
So, I walked away from this for a few minutes and now I've lost where I was going with it and it would be a shame for me to even try to finish it. So you're just going to have to deal with how it is.
I couldn't wait two years for a guy. I can't wait four months for a guy. Hell, I don't even want to wait an hour for a guy.
So let's talk about that, guys. If you knew we were supposed to hang out at a certain point, don't be late. And if you really know me, you should be early. Let's make an example. Hmmm. Ok, so let's say you, me, and some friends were supposed to go to a festival (yeh, I know that's a weird choice, but it applies) at 5pm. I call you at 4 to see if we could go a little early. You tell me that that wouldn't be possible because you're actually going to be late because you're hanging out with one of your bros twenty minutes away and you still have to come home and shower and you're not done hanging out yet. Well. That doesn't fly. Here's why: You knew we were hanging out at that certain time and you have a very poor reason as to why you can't be there on time. Also, I had to call YOU to find out you were going to be late. AND it makes me feel like a jerk when I tell my friends you're not coming because I'm not waiting for you because you're stupid.
So if I wouldn't wait for something like that, what makes you think I would wait for someone who isn't ready for a relationship with me. Best excuse that I've heard? "Well, I don't know if it's going to work out with me and Brandisha." (I don't actually know a Brandisha so I'm using that name) If you're not interested in being with me now and would rather be with someone else "temporarily," that means you don't want to be with me ever. At least that's how I'm going to take it.
So, I walked away from this for a few minutes and now I've lost where I was going with it and it would be a shame for me to even try to finish it. So you're just going to have to deal with how it is.
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
You're too bad, you're too rude.
You wanna know what? Do ya? Yeh, you bet your asphalt you do.
See, now I bet you were drawn into this blog solely based on that first line (or not). It's threatening, yet seems pretty harmless.
I'm sick of the guys like that. I've dated my share of Bad Boys. Let me tell you: big mistake. Big. Huge.
Bad boys aren't all they're cracked up to be.
"Oh! He smokes!" Yeh, well, there are cooler ways to die than your cells not knowing when to stop growing. (Example: Sting ray barb straight through the heart.)
"Oh! He drinks like a fish!" Yeh, because alcohol makes you really act like an adult.
"Oh! He drives fast/ a crotch rocket/ a fast crotch rocket!" Yeh, let's hope you're not in/on the vehicle when it goes careening out of control. And don't tell me that crotch rocket owners are super safe. You want a safe ride on two wheels? I suggest looking for a guy with a Schwinn. That or a vintage Harley, 'cause you know he's gonna take care of that sucker.
"Oh! He's in/ been to prison!" Yeh, a criminal is really something you want to live with. Sure, he says he's learned his lesson the hard way, but has he really? I mean, he shouldn't have even had to learn a lesson. And if he really did, he probably belongs on a short bus.
"Oh! He's covered in tattoos and piercings!" Yeh, tell me how he looks when he's 76 (if he makes it that far) and that skull and rose chest piece (complete with nipple piercings) he got done when he was in his twenties is down around his belly button.
"Oh! He's into illegal drugs!" Yeh, I shouldn't need to explain that. And if you do need me to explain it, stop reading my blog and head over to the local Planned Parenthood because I have no hope for you.
"Oh! He swears like a sailor!" Yeh, I'm just gonna go ahead and guess that he's not all that bright and doesn't really have much to say if he uses an expletive in every sentence.
"Oh! He wears dark sunglasses all the time!" Yeh, so this guy is one of the following: blind, always hungover, prone to migraines in fluorescent lighting, or hiding a perpetual case of pink eye. The only one out of those that I would find acceptable is blindness.
"Oh! He wears a leather jacket!" Yeh, unless he's portraying Danny Zuko or Uncle Jesse (Full House, not Dukes of Hazzard), no dice. I wouldn't even say yes to Uncle Jesse.
I'd list more, but I'm growing bored.
But as you can see, those are the more physical things. There are the other things: constantly ditching you, talking to you one second and then pretending you don't exist the other, pretty much any mental or physical abuse, etc.
And I know I'm not the only one who thought she could change a Bad Boy. You think you can get him to calm down. Sometimes, for a while you think you've succeeded, but really, you've just gotten used to his ways. The only way I see change for the better happening is extreme behavioral therapy, and maybe a few (legal) prescriptions.
I know no one really reads this, but here's hoping someone does and it helps them see the guy they're dating, thinking about dating, or used to date for what he is. Unless he's not a bad boy. Then you're fine.
See, now I bet you were drawn into this blog solely based on that first line (or not). It's threatening, yet seems pretty harmless.
I'm sick of the guys like that. I've dated my share of Bad Boys. Let me tell you: big mistake. Big. Huge.
Bad boys aren't all they're cracked up to be.
"Oh! He smokes!" Yeh, well, there are cooler ways to die than your cells not knowing when to stop growing. (Example: Sting ray barb straight through the heart.)
"Oh! He drinks like a fish!" Yeh, because alcohol makes you really act like an adult.
"Oh! He drives fast/ a crotch rocket/ a fast crotch rocket!" Yeh, let's hope you're not in/on the vehicle when it goes careening out of control. And don't tell me that crotch rocket owners are super safe. You want a safe ride on two wheels? I suggest looking for a guy with a Schwinn. That or a vintage Harley, 'cause you know he's gonna take care of that sucker.
"Oh! He's in/ been to prison!" Yeh, a criminal is really something you want to live with. Sure, he says he's learned his lesson the hard way, but has he really? I mean, he shouldn't have even had to learn a lesson. And if he really did, he probably belongs on a short bus.
"Oh! He's covered in tattoos and piercings!" Yeh, tell me how he looks when he's 76 (if he makes it that far) and that skull and rose chest piece (complete with nipple piercings) he got done when he was in his twenties is down around his belly button.
"Oh! He's into illegal drugs!" Yeh, I shouldn't need to explain that. And if you do need me to explain it, stop reading my blog and head over to the local Planned Parenthood because I have no hope for you.
"Oh! He swears like a sailor!" Yeh, I'm just gonna go ahead and guess that he's not all that bright and doesn't really have much to say if he uses an expletive in every sentence.
"Oh! He wears dark sunglasses all the time!" Yeh, so this guy is one of the following: blind, always hungover, prone to migraines in fluorescent lighting, or hiding a perpetual case of pink eye. The only one out of those that I would find acceptable is blindness.
"Oh! He wears a leather jacket!" Yeh, unless he's portraying Danny Zuko or Uncle Jesse (Full House, not Dukes of Hazzard), no dice. I wouldn't even say yes to Uncle Jesse.
I'd list more, but I'm growing bored.
But as you can see, those are the more physical things. There are the other things: constantly ditching you, talking to you one second and then pretending you don't exist the other, pretty much any mental or physical abuse, etc.
And I know I'm not the only one who thought she could change a Bad Boy. You think you can get him to calm down. Sometimes, for a while you think you've succeeded, but really, you've just gotten used to his ways. The only way I see change for the better happening is extreme behavioral therapy, and maybe a few (legal) prescriptions.
I know no one really reads this, but here's hoping someone does and it helps them see the guy they're dating, thinking about dating, or used to date for what he is. Unless he's not a bad boy. Then you're fine.
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