Monday, 16 July 2012

Pick up the FUCKING phone

What is with the cowardice of men today? And yes, before someone bangs on about how not all men are the same. I know. I know. I fucking know. It must just be all the men I have anything to do with in a datey way.

If you want to, I dunno, go out on a date with someone, bang on for the next few days about how amazing they are and how much you fancy them and can't wait to see them and then, on the morning of said date, text them with some tedious bullshit about how your ex magically got in touch over the weekend (during the five minutes you weren't texted said person telling them how ace they are) and all of a sudden you need to follow your heart and cancel the date then you are, it almost goes without saying, a fucking tool.

Likewise, if you want to go on and on at someone for months, convince them to spend their hardearned cash on a plane ticket to go out and see you in foreign climes and then suddenly magic up a girlfriend from out of nowhere at the last minute then you are, again, a complete fucking cocklord.

But if you decide to deliver these messages to the unlucky girl in question - and yes, yes, I do mean me - and you choose to do it by TEXT then you are a spineless fucking wankstain of a man who doesn't even deserve this blogpost.

A wet and jellylike shell of a man. A pathetic and embarrassing moistness of a man. I'm trying not to actively despise these men. But the more I meet in a 'dating' capacity, the more I am struggling to even believe that there are some out there who aren't just... awful.

I watch my friends, colleagues and acquaintances have relationships, seemingly without effort. I mean, obviously there are problems in all relationships. But they at least manage to get the fucking thing started.

I give up. Fuck 'em all. I'm going to become a Scientologist instead. I hear Tom Cruise is looking for a new beard. I could do that. He could pay for some lipo and botox and bam, good as gold. Actually, this might have legs...

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