I can't believe I forgot to tell y'all that THIS happened.
And this Doozy happened, like ages ago...well...in Doozy time. See, Doozytime is like dog years, in the dating sense. Like, for instance, I've been on and off the dating sites for about 5 years or so now. But in Doozy-time, that's the equivalent of twelve years. So I'm in Doozy-time, I've already started menopause, and my vagina has become a shriveled, dusty, unused carpetbag.
HOW'S THAT FOR SOME IMAGERY, HUH?
Moving on
So yeah. THIS.
THE GHOST OF THAD, YOU KNOW THAT GUY...
Awhile back, I wrote about Thad, Walter White's Legit Cousin. And of course, at the time I was all boo-hoo, wah wah because he turned out to be just looking for
P
U
S
S
Y
Story of my life, right?
Why yes.
Yes, indeed.
Well now. Being the strong and resilient (albeit slightly cynical and jaded by now) Doozy that I am, I quickly told perky Thad to "FUCK OFF" in my head and quickly forgot about him.
HO HO! You say, Not so fast girl!
You're Goddamn right.
Because it was shortly after the Triton debacle back at the end of August, that THIS popped up on my phone, from a number that I didn't recognize.
WHY THAD. YOU SAUCY LITTLE MINX.
I could also add
DELUSIONAL
IDIOTIC
FUCKWIT
To the mix.
But I don't want to come off as an incredible bitch.
WAIT.
On second thought:
So, to recap;
Thad contacted me TWICE over the course of three years on the dating sites. We we went on three dates. He stood me up once, and blew me off once (maybe twice - tough call on that one), then has the elephant balls to come looking for humpty humpty after all that shit went down?
Really.
Seriously.
Uh-huh.
Way back when I first started dating and this sort of thing would happen to me, I admit I was a little flattered.
BECAUSE I WAS A FUCKING IDIOT BACK THEN.
AND I MADE BAD DECISIONS.
Anyhoozles, back then when some dude who had blown me off or otherwise treated me like shit texted me out of the blue, my first reaction used to be along the lines of:
I had much lower self esteem back in the day. And it took me quite awhile to realize that these men were USING me and that they were assholes of the first order. See, years back I my thinking was more along the lines of:
"Wow, maybe he misses me."
OR
"He must have changed his mind and realized how neat I am!"
I
WAS
SUCH
A
NAIVE
BUFFOON
And I did, and still do occasionally have rando dudes text me up to A YEAR after we went out a date. A YEAR LATER.
What the fresh hell?
Question: Why do men do that? I get that cell phones are the modern equivalent of "the little black book" now; however, if you only texted each other, maybe went out on a date with each other and nothing significant ever happened; why would you keep a girl's number?
FOR YEARS? Especially if you never saw the girl naked? Or even if you saw her naked and it was only a hookup situation - like, there were no feels involved?
It was a "Okay-now-put-your-pants-on-and-go.No,-shower-at-your-own-place-get-the-hell-out." kinda deal. Why keep her number for infinity times pi?
Perhaps I'm way hardcore now or something, but once a dude shows me his true dickwaffle colors, he's gone.
Deleted.
All traces of him are erased from my life.
That includes his fucking phone number.
I don't keep that shit hanging around in my phone like some menagerie of notches in my cell phone plan.
So yeah, when I get some call or text from a weird phone number Now?
HA
HAHA
HA HA HAHAHA
See, all that Thad was doing; besides making an ass of himself, was adding more credence to my working hypothesis; which is this:
Generally speaking, men in the dating world see me as,
GOOD ENOUGH TO FUCK
BUT NOT GOOD ENOUGH TO DATE
And coming off the emotionally unavailable, attention whoring Triton deal?
Huh.
YEAH.
No bueno bro.
Needless to say, all my fucks had dried up and blown away on the soft, gentle winds of assertive femininity.
Look, I get it. Men want to get laid. Shit. I want to get laid. Who doesn't want to get laid?
The critical difference here is, I made it extremely clear in my profile that sex isn't all I'm looking for.
Shit, I talked at length about my desire for a serious relationship on the three dates Thad and I went out on.
I'M DONE FUCKING AROUND HERE.
Therefore, it makes a girl wonder just what is going on in Thad's gray matter that his thinks the above tactic would work.
I mean really.
Clearly the little head was working harder than the big head.
So.
That
Happened....
Remember. I can't make this shit up.
On the other hand, here's a pug losing it's shit.
