1. “What, am I not good enough for you?”
Nope, you are not. In fact, you are a disgusting pig in a dress that should be two sizes bigger and shoes that look like you want to mutilate yourself if you think that just because you cake some makeup in your face, be a good girl, and twinkle your fake-ass eyelashes at me, I would owe you anything. All I wanted was to be polite because you looked like you might cut yourself if someone else told you that you are unattractive, so I wanted to offer you at least a dance so you would not do anything drastic. But yeah. You are not good enough for me; please remove yourself from the gene pool.
2. “Are you gay or something?”
Wow. Homophobia in a dress. Why am I not amazed? Why yes, I just discovered, when the thought of sex with you crossed my mind, that I would much rather suck all the dicks in this room than even consider sharing my bed with you. How about that? I am a modern man, and I need not sleep with women just because they can assume they have my OK to dictate when I am a man and when not.
3. “OMG, why are you so rude, I was just telling you about my ex….”
Nope. I clearly regard you very highly, but if every other word out of your mouth is what your ex was, he is clearly still on your mind. I don’t want to be that rebound fuck that then gets tossed to the curb when your ex winks. Perhaps the next time you will get your priorities straight because usually, I expect payment to listen to you blubber about your records of poor decision-making and horrible dating policy. To drive the point home: I considered having sex with you because I am interested in you, and you alone. If I wanted to have sex with your exes or know about your dating history, I would have let you know.
4. “I am just a normal girl looking for someone who treats me like a lady….”
Sigh. I am going to tell it to you straight. I get that your expectation of benevolent sexism tells you that somehow I have to court you, but let’s do this by the books. Yes, I can be a gentleman, but only if I recognize a lady. And the least I demand from being a lady is some goddamn class, not an intellect that would make a goldfish look good, and class that is picked up between downing booze like a Singapore hooker and some basic education.
5. “Why don’t you want me?…slurred…you could have totally had me.”
Yes, I know. But I did not, for the simple reason that I want to actually enjoy my evening with a woman. If you have to get inebriated just to stand being near to me, it tells me one of two things: One, you are a little scared girl and are more afraid of me than I am of you. In this case, I will scratch your head and hold you, but I will not lay hands on you below your neck. You obviously deserve someone who can make you feel more at home and OK with yourself, so, yes, like a little girl telling me that she would totally have been OK with that, I just nod off your obvious lies and justifications afterwards. Or two, you are a professional floozy, so hardened off by a history of dating “bad boys” that you habitually knock yourself out with alcohol to avoid remembering more of the abysmal/brutal lovemaking. To be blunt, I would rather lick a Bangladeshi toilet during the sweltering summer heat than lay a finger on you, because getting STDs that way is pleasurable compared laying next to your drunken wreck. Please see a therapist.
6. “OMG, am I too low-class for you?”
Wrong, let me explain. When I have sex with a woman, I usually want to do more than to roll off of her, get up, and get out/go to sleep. I want to hold her, whisper poetry in her ear, and have deep discussions with said woman while exploring all nooks and crevices of her body. You know, in between the sessions, while I regain my composure…if you are unable to hold up a conversation for five minutes without mentioning something trendy you saw on Twitter, if the last book you read was for a high school assignment, if your knowledge of politics is limited to “Barack Obama is president,” and if the only thing you have going for you is your looks, I am sorry. I am quite capable of boring myself to sleep alone. And no, an in-depth discussion of a popular TV series does not count as “witty.”
7. “I am just temperamental, oh my god, how sensitive are you?”
Darling, if you treat the wait staff like shit over minor incidents, laugh about other people’s misfortune, and try to up play your own worth by making me think less of others, including your own gender, I am sorry but that is an ironclad proof that you are lacking the most basic of conditions that make you attractive to me. Human kindness usually goes hand-in-hand with treating others nicely even if you do not feel your best. Also, there is “temperamental” and there is being a cunt, and it is usually not up to you to draw the line.
8. “A real man…”
Let me stop you right there. I am, the last time I checked, a man, I also have credentials and the necessary paperwork. I assume the same could be said for you. So, unless when I say, “A real woman would fuck the sad-looking guy at the bar with glasses and pimples,” and you do so, why should I? Also, I do not need women to validate my status as a real man, since my mother, in addition to the aforementioned credentials, has provided me with all the assurances that are needed in that direction. Also, what I am looking for is a real woman that can take “no” for an answer and that respects my right to choose whom I have sex with or not—not a little girl that desperately wants to be aggressive and that needs sex as validation. That is just desperate, and to be honest, quite creepy.
9. “OMG, you do [insert activity here] so much better than my ex…”
What we are sliding into is a very simple situation. What you think you are doing is providing me with a compliment regarding a skill I’ll call X. I however know that X is good, since I developed my skill in X long before I met you. What arrives at my end is “I want to compare you to my ex,” giving me the distinct feeling that you are still emotionally compromised, and thus it would be unfair to take advantage of that.
10. “What, I don’t see your girlfriend here/no ring on that finger…”
Let me use feminist rhetoric on this, because otherwise, the amounts of privilege will apparently not be understandable to you. Not only are you assuming I made the girlfriend up, no, you are also assuming I asked for it, since I came to the club, or the bar, or the street, and “Looked like I wanted it.” No, I did not ask for this, no, if I did not invite you to this and you flirt with me, I feel like you assume that I owe you sex for having the courage to speak to me. Sorry, but if you act like an overly aggressive whore, you get treated like one.