bahahah: You’re a male programmer with a pony tail who’s generally seen as weird/ creepy/ nerdy by your IRL peers and as either a “guru” or a tyrannical dick by your fellow elitist programmers in IRC. You may also employ “mwhahahah.”
R&B is such a truly wonderful genre of music. The sheer, blinding earnestness of so many people trying not only to market sex itself, but how sexy they are as individuals, is something to be admired. It’s strange, almost surreal, watching so many grown men declare, insist, that they are incredible at the act of lovemaking…
I’m sorry, but no amount of love, no Leo and Kate or Jim and Pam or Carrie and Big love, could ever justify the unimaginable bullshit that is eating dinner on the same side of a cramped table.
I want to impart my newfound wisdom to all of the readers who want their apartment to stop smelling like One Night Stand and Regret. Listen carefully, grasshoppers.
Herein lies the dilemma of having a crush. Do you actually want to act on it? Do you want to give them your phone number and resign yourself to feeling miserable until they finally text you? Sometimes it’s fun to just have the crush. The PG fantasy.
Um, you’re creepy? Um, you’re too old? Um, you’re too aggressive? Um, you smell like onions? Um, I think you have a boyfriend? Um, you just graduated high school? Um, I just ate a burrito and am not DTF? Um, you’re not cute? Um, I need to feel empowered by rejecting you?
It’s all a game we play. You’re not supposed to know how much power you had over me. You’re not supposed to how much I thought about you, how often I thought about what were you doing, how often you reduced me to tears.
Texting me after 10 on a weeknight is a lost cause dude. I’m watching episodes of Seinfeld on my couch, in my sweatpants, eating pizza. I turned off Social Me like an hour ago, and once I turn it off for the night, it doesn’t come back on until tomorrow, midday at the earliest.