I’ve Never Had A Boyfriend Despite Being An Effing Catch

Meg Wills
Meg Wills
I’m already cringing at the fact that this even has to be said. But whatever; sometimes things need to be said.

I’ve never really had a serious boyfriend. I’ve had “things”. I’ve had one-night stands. And I’ve had fuck buddies. These have all been great on their own, and I have walked away with some valuable life lessons.

For example, if the prick who you’ve been hooking up with one day decides to stop answering your text messages, do not keep texting him. In fact, delete his number and erase the memory of him before you find out that he got back together with his ex-girlfriend almost a week ago and has been slowly trying to taper off from hitting you up this whole time. Seriously. (I wish I was joking. His little brother informed me of this tidbit in the weight room and I dropped a dumbbell on my foot.)

Or, if you finally connect with someone only to realize that at the end of the summer they’ll be moving across the ocean to another country, try not to cry too hard. But also delete his number because he will continue to text you knowing he has your heart on a fucking string. Great, thanks bro.

But here’s the thing. I’m really awesome. I’m loud and funny and just obnoxious enough that you’ll remember me, and what I have to say. I know a ton of useless trivia, and I can also carry an intelligent conversation about literature, traveling, or whatever I damn well please. I’m a fucking catch. But sometimes, people don’t see that right away. I’m not a size-2-walking-goddess. I’m a brash, tan, Russian Jew with a donk that makes anyone and everyone question my true nationality.

And sometimes I just want to attach a whiteboard to my chest to prove why I’m really great.

(Here’s the part where all ye feminist type cut in to say I don’t owe shit to anyone, and don’t need to prove myself, and I’ll eventually find the right guy, etc…yeah, fuck off.)

So here is my bulleted list of guaranteed pinky promises:

  • I pinky promise to always tell you what I’m pissed about. Men are notoriously awful at taking hints, and I know this.
  • I pinky promise not to bitch about the toilet seat.
  • I pinky promise to always wake you up with a morning blow-job when it’s that time of the month if I don’t feel like getting frisky. Or when it’s not that time of the month. Because I’m really cool and considerate.
  • I pinky promise to cook for you. Not just breakfast/lunch/dinner…munchies too. Delicious desserts…you’ll be saying Pinterest WHAT?
  • I pinky promise to not constantly badger you with suspicion. If you’re acting shady, you’re leaving. Plain and simple.
  • I pinky promise that the day we become “official”, I won’t take my phone out wherever we are to text all my GURLZ, and I won’t change whatever relationship I’m in on Facebook. I will just kiss you and smile and probably blush a little bit.
  • I pinky promise that I’ll be super cool to your parents. Parents love me. Maybe don’t show them this article though…
  • I pinky promise that I won’t need you to do everything in the world with me. In fact, time spent separately and alone is often way healthier anyway. Go do your thing. Fantasy whatever or goin’ out drinkin’ brews with the bros. Seriously, I need space. Just for tonight though.
  • I pinky promise I won’t creep you out by leaving bridal magazine cutouts around my apartment in conspicuous places. In fact, I just shuddered at the thought.
  • I pinky promise that if things end, no matter how good or bad, I won’t go shit-talking you to my friends. You probably deserve better if I’ve kept you around this long.

Oh, and I pinky promise that if you’re a single, male, Jewish doctor…I too, am single. Hi. Thought Catalog Logo Mark

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