In an effort to not stress the fuck out so much — which, seriously, I'd love some heroin right about now. Anyone? — I've retreated into that wonderful abyss known as the internet. I spent an obscene amount of time on trashy celebrity gossip sites the past two days, because life may be slightly sucky right now, but at least I'm not running around town with greasy hair, no pants, and ill-fitting pirate boots while my loser skeeze of an ex-husband is making a better impression on the powers that be for child custody. You know. Unlike other people. Always look at the bright side of life.
Anyway. This morning I was surfing around Jezebel when lo, I came to their feature Crap Email From A Dude. The Redhead introduced me to this feature, and God do I love it. Mainly because it serves as a reminder that I am truly better off single since there are so many damn knobs out there.
Post-reading the Crap Emails From A Dude I thought it would be hysterical to see some of the responses from the females they are sent to, really cutting, sharp, witty responses that put these tools in their place.
And then I remembered. I may not have had a crap email from a dude, but I did have a crap phone call from a dude about a year and a half ago. And while I was polite and incredulous on the phone, I fired back via the internet in the passive-aggressive form of my blog. My blog then promptly broke. So no one saw it. Luckily, I managed to salvage it because I was cross posting to Xanga at the time.
The letter is from the Prince Fucking Charming debacle, a mere 24 hours prior to me discovering that he was using me to cheat on his girlfriend. The story of how I discovered this (for the three or four of you who still don't know the sordid tale) is for another time.
----
Dear Guy Who I Have a Date With on Friday,
You and I spoke for about 45 minutes last night. Allow me to give you a critique of our conversation:
1) When discussing our age differences (me being six years your junior), it is not proper to talk down to me, as if I am in junior high. I get it: I'm younger than you. But I also have a college education and have been living independently for 2 years*. I'm a grown up too.
2) While on the subject of our age differences, I asked if you were OK with dating someone who was younger. You replied with, "Being 24 means that you just haven't hit your prime yet." GWIHDWF, allow me to say to you now what I did not say when you said this to me: ew. You make me sound like un-ripened fruit or something. Not the way to my heart. Also: Asshole.
3) Still on the subject of me not being in my sexual "prime," you said about how you can "instruct me." Oh, okay, suuuuure. Allow me to give you some instruction: When you kiss someone, it is not an invitation to SUCK THEIR FACE, which is what you did to me last week when we hooked up. Ok, like the slow sexy lip suck can be very sensual, but dude, for real: Not every single time, and not with the power of a hoover. Gentle exploring with the tongue, please. And fuck off.
4) At some point in the conversation, completely un-ironically and not particularly joking like, you mentioned that you'd "put [me] in [my] place and show [me] who was boss." A note to you and to all other guys trying to woo a girl: DON'T EVER SAY SOMETHING LIKE THAT. Man, you know, I already felt how big your wang is through your pants on the dance floor. You don't need to continue to "prove" your "manhood" to me. Also, I am the biggest, most stubborn, brattiest, bitch. I fucking dare you to try to "put me in my place."
5) Yes, I hooked up with you on a dance floor in a bar while tipsy. Not my classiest moment. But, nor was it yours. Please, let's move beyond thunderdome and stop with the lame innuendos. All of your innuendos were predictable and kind of creepy. Innuendos should be sly, unexpected, and should make me smile and maybe blush slightly. Not roll my eyes, sigh, and cringe, which is what I did 80% of the time when you made them.
6) It is creepy, not to mention bad manners, to invite yourself over to my house. We were talking while you were driving home from work and you asked about where I lived, borderline asking for directions. When I continued to be purposely vague about it since you were so fucking transparent and I could tell what you were trying to do, you told me, "Well I guess I can't come over and surprise you right now." Damn straight. You know why? Because I didn't invite you over! Because I barely know you. And a alcohol infused fumble at a singles mixer does not a trusting relationship make.
7) Yeah, I'm bitchy, picky, and I have fucking high standards. I know what I want. Last Thursday I wanted a hook up. I got one. Today, I want to go back in time to Sunday and un-call you.
8) The more we talk, the less I am attracted to you.
9) I am only having dinner with you on Friday in the hopes that you'll redeem yourself.
Happy Valentine's Day!
Passive-aggressively,
EightK
---
*Hysterical Footnote: I discovered after the fact that he was 30 and still living with his parents. Lord, what a douche.
Anyway. This morning I was surfing around Jezebel when lo, I came to their feature Crap Email From A Dude. The Redhead introduced me to this feature, and God do I love it. Mainly because it serves as a reminder that I am truly better off single since there are so many damn knobs out there.
Post-reading the Crap Emails From A Dude I thought it would be hysterical to see some of the responses from the females they are sent to, really cutting, sharp, witty responses that put these tools in their place.
And then I remembered. I may not have had a crap email from a dude, but I did have a crap phone call from a dude about a year and a half ago. And while I was polite and incredulous on the phone, I fired back via the internet in the passive-aggressive form of my blog. My blog then promptly broke. So no one saw it. Luckily, I managed to salvage it because I was cross posting to Xanga at the time.
The letter is from the Prince Fucking Charming debacle, a mere 24 hours prior to me discovering that he was using me to cheat on his girlfriend. The story of how I discovered this (for the three or four of you who still don't know the sordid tale) is for another time.
----
Dear Guy Who I Have a Date With on Friday,
You and I spoke for about 45 minutes last night. Allow me to give you a critique of our conversation:
1) When discussing our age differences (me being six years your junior), it is not proper to talk down to me, as if I am in junior high. I get it: I'm younger than you. But I also have a college education and have been living independently for 2 years*. I'm a grown up too.
2) While on the subject of our age differences, I asked if you were OK with dating someone who was younger. You replied with, "Being 24 means that you just haven't hit your prime yet." GWIHDWF, allow me to say to you now what I did not say when you said this to me: ew. You make me sound like un-ripened fruit or something. Not the way to my heart. Also: Asshole.
3) Still on the subject of me not being in my sexual "prime," you said about how you can "instruct me." Oh, okay, suuuuure. Allow me to give you some instruction: When you kiss someone, it is not an invitation to SUCK THEIR FACE, which is what you did to me last week when we hooked up. Ok, like the slow sexy lip suck can be very sensual, but dude, for real: Not every single time, and not with the power of a hoover. Gentle exploring with the tongue, please. And fuck off.
4) At some point in the conversation, completely un-ironically and not particularly joking like, you mentioned that you'd "put [me] in [my] place and show [me] who was boss." A note to you and to all other guys trying to woo a girl: DON'T EVER SAY SOMETHING LIKE THAT. Man, you know, I already felt how big your wang is through your pants on the dance floor. You don't need to continue to "prove" your "manhood" to me. Also, I am the biggest, most stubborn, brattiest, bitch. I fucking dare you to try to "put me in my place."
5) Yes, I hooked up with you on a dance floor in a bar while tipsy. Not my classiest moment. But, nor was it yours. Please, let's move beyond thunderdome and stop with the lame innuendos. All of your innuendos were predictable and kind of creepy. Innuendos should be sly, unexpected, and should make me smile and maybe blush slightly. Not roll my eyes, sigh, and cringe, which is what I did 80% of the time when you made them.
6) It is creepy, not to mention bad manners, to invite yourself over to my house. We were talking while you were driving home from work and you asked about where I lived, borderline asking for directions. When I continued to be purposely vague about it since you were so fucking transparent and I could tell what you were trying to do, you told me, "Well I guess I can't come over and surprise you right now." Damn straight. You know why? Because I didn't invite you over! Because I barely know you. And a alcohol infused fumble at a singles mixer does not a trusting relationship make.
7) Yeah, I'm bitchy, picky, and I have fucking high standards. I know what I want. Last Thursday I wanted a hook up. I got one. Today, I want to go back in time to Sunday and un-call you.
8) The more we talk, the less I am attracted to you.
9) I am only having dinner with you on Friday in the hopes that you'll redeem yourself.
Happy Valentine's Day!
Passive-aggressively,
EightK
---
*Hysterical Footnote: I discovered after the fact that he was 30 and still living with his parents. Lord, what a douche.
Labels: Guys Are Dumb, Open Letters, Randoms, Romance
2 Comments:
As much as I luuurve Crap Email from a Dude, it does need to be said that technically, EVERY e-mail from a dude is crap.
Just sayin'.
Haha, I remember when you first posted this letter, not long after diary-x died, correct?
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