...why the hell do we subject ourselves to the maddeningly stressful frustrations that guise themselves as pleasantries and chuckles also known as dating?
What is UP with guys in their mid thirties? Sheesh. I had hoped that the pubescent age discrepancies would have balanced by now, but evidently not. Perhaps my expectations are too high, but dammit guys, YOU keep telling me that you're all grown-up!
If you want something, you reach out and take it. You don't see how long it will sit on the shelf for, then chase after the clever person that sauntered by and said "Hum! Look at this!", begging for them to give it to you, since you saw it first.
CHRIST!
Just call the girl already. Ask her out, tell her she's cute. SOMETHING. In the meantime, she's thinking, "Well, I'd kinda hoped that he'd call, but the other one did instead, so I guess I'll go out with Plan B." And why doesn't she call him, you ask, dear reader? BECAUSE HE DIDN'T GIVE HER HIS PHONE NUMBER. She gave him hers, with the gross assumption that when a man says, "Hey, I'm a man, I like to drive the bus." he MEANS IT.
I'm at the end of my tether. I have people telling me that if I call or email first, he'll get intimidated or whatever, and I should wait for him to call, to initiate, to make the first, second and twentieth moves. This is such a load of bullshit as I have never known it. I hate waiting. I hate pretending I'm not interested in someone so that they'll be interested in me. What the sweet fuck is THAT about? Misogynistic freak shows.
Ok I'm fine now.
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