"How come you dont call me?, What is wrong with you?"…She asks with genuine puzzlement in her voice.
OK so I’m here to whine about female troubles,again. So bare with me.
Background: Last summer I was chasing a girl I call Vixen I was crazy over her,but that is but a distant memory.
Vixens fine-ass out-going sister (I’ll call her “Sunshine”)comes to town about two months ago. I met her once. I see her out and about, she waves/smiles. One day I decide to pull over and talk to her. She jumps in my car. She then flirts relentlessly,craftily. So I lean over and kiss her, to which she replies:“So…what took you so long to do that?” Damn, I’m liking this girl. So later we’re hot and heavy on my couch, in the horizontal position. But no sex, I’m what they call a “Gentleman” or an “IDIOT” take your pick. Later I drop her off. I didn’t get her number, she has mine but I don’t hear from her. I finally get a hold of her via a friends cell phone. From the sounds of her voice I gather she doesn’t want to talk to me.(Later I find she didn’t want to, via the friend with the cell)
FFWD a week I see her walking down the street with FUCK MARKS(hickeys) on her neck. And she’s walking with the guy that gave them to her.
OK that is that,no big deal… Only now she’s finished with him and now is trying to call me.I don’t answer her calls for a week. I don’t call her.
[voicemail] Sunshine: "How come you don’t answer me and how come you don’t call me, what is wrong with you?!" [/voicemail]
Her sister Vixen calls me yesterday asking: " Are you and Sunshine fighing? She said you wont take her call or anything "
WHAT. THE. FUCK??
First off it takes TWO to fight. Second, fighting would imply that we are somewhat a couple.
Leave me be temptress. Although every fiber of my being wants to be with you. Every survival instinct says NOOOOO!
Stop being such a whiny weenie! An available, sexy woman is begging for you to call her and you’re kicking the dirt while staring at your shoes? Oh sure, she’ll crumple up and toss away your soul like a used Kleenex eventually, but what stories you’ll have to tell, and that’s what’s important!
You see Tony, we’re living our lives vicariously though you, and quite frankly you’re beginning to disappoint. Get on the stick… or get her on the stick… or …well you know what to do! Get busy… and get pictures!
OK She called about 2hrs ago. I’m supposed to pick her up in about 30min. Wish me luck as I will be with a heatbreakin’ man shredder. (There’s a country song in there somewhere)
Stop being a pussy and go get some ass. That hot bodied skanks R Us ass. Get emotionally involved with a physco-slut-from-the-depths-of-Hell and then post here what a lunatic she is, but-boy! -the-sex-is-to-die-for-until-she-burns-your-dog-eats-your-pie-and-takes-your-family-bible.
It is your obligation to allow us to live through the trainwreck that is your life.
So that we (the girls of SDMB)can tell you what a fucktard you are but how dareshe screw with one of our own sweet widdle innocent dopers who’s name is synonmous with drugs, overacting and blood baths. The guys can all commiserate with you on the Evils of Women while secretly trying to find out more about the sex.
Then we, the Unified Affronted Dopers, Not the ** United Dopers Who Are Affronted **, those splinters! will all give you great ideas on how to get even with her. From the macabre to a massacre. Either way, she’s going down, but not on you any longer, m’boy, because you are older, wiser, leaner, meaner and ready to do a mental smackdown on the next physco-skank that tries to take you for a ride.
Then one day in the far off future for you ( After a job/mortgage/kids/the crushing reality that is your life) you can sagely advise some other young green eyed fellow to do the same, because before you know it you are calling your Jamaican nurse ‘Mama’ and having your dinner at 3pm, lunch is a 9am and breakfast the night before.
My Magic 8 Ball told me to say all this. It is foretold. By Mattel. So’s you gotta do it.
wait, you know this woman will chew you up and spit you out, probably cheat on you, possibly give you a wide assortment of STD’s, and you still want to shag her?
and to the rest of you…
Splitters!
OK, now where’s the snack guy? I need another bag of wolf’s nipple tips.
When, in reality, it is really all the turtles fault .
They should have warnings on their shells: *Warning this turtle will die, causing great emotional stress that will force you to seek consolation in skanky physcotic women of dubious honor and low moral standards. Eventually leading you to post the most mundane minutae of your pathetic existance on a message board for thousands of close personal strangers to read and mock you onward to further humiliations, because they live through you as they have No Life. Turtle is not is not flushable. *
I 'm sorry. We have to be friends. It’s not you it’s me. Ever since my mom tried to flush the dog down the toilet I’ve had commitment problems with plastic japanese warriors.
