Never Date A Salesman

Never date a salesman, because the first thing they learn is the Law of Averages. They will approach anyone and everyone, then zero in on those who show “potential”. 


Never date a salesman, because they know how to build rapport. 

They know how to make you feel at ease; they set out baits to slowly fish information out of you to find your vices. 

So while they lull you into a false sense of security, they plot on how to break your heart.


Never date a salesman, because they tell you stories. 

They tell you selective things about themselves that they know you’d be interested in, so they can pique your interest in them, and slowly reel you in. 


Never date a salesman, because he can paint you pictures in your head. 

He knows how you thirst for a relationship with someone who’s so wonderfully perfect, and will talk about how he’s the best fit.


Never date a salesman, because he knows your insecurities and will not hesitate to use them against you. 

Like the times you felt like you were never good enough, and you cry your eyes out, wanting to end things when all you desperately wanted was reassurance. 

He will never reveal his thoughts to you, because “it’s not about how he feels, it’s about how YOU feel”. Sometimes you feel like he’s giving you a psychoanalysis, but most times you start to feel guilty and crawl back to him. That’s when he’s already got you wrapped around his finger.

And when you melt down—because you will—he will threaten you with “if you keep this up, I may have to do something I really don’t want to” just to instill the fear of loss in you.


Never date a salesman, because he knows how to use the tone of his voice to manipulate you.

Sometimes his voice will be a soft whisper made of sweet nothings to make you feel loved.

Sometimes it will be sultry, to tease and undress you.

Sometimes it will show a tinge of genuine affection to make you feel pampered.

And some times, it will be dismissive. The cracks will begin to show, and you’ll hear his impatience. How disgruntled he is towards how “crazy” you are. 


One. Two. Three. Four.

Never date a salesman, because all that matters is the numbers. 

You’re just going to be one of many.

Number 27th girl he’s played.

Number 89th girl he’s slept with.

Number 18th girl he’s gotten over in a split second, before he moves on to the next.


And here you are, writing about him. 

Here you are, crying your eyes out, because either way with or without him, you are miserable. 

Here you are, questioning your decisions, blaming yourself for this pain and anguish you have locked up in your chest because nobody wants to hear yet another sob story from you.

He on the other hand, is far away, with dry eyes.