I always seem to get asked the question, "what brings you to this site?" Depending on my mood my response varies from, "I'm just seeing what's out there." (To which I am fully aware of what is out there, I mean I have literally gone out with 75% of the men in this city that I find attractive or intriguing.). "I don't get approached in public." (Again, either because of unintentional bitch face, I'm constantly surrounded my male friends who have strong personalities, or im drunk.. which most would think would be an easy way for me to meet people, however if you have had the pleasure to see me in a drunken state, the Shelby shit show could potentially make any straight man easily consider a sex change operation and be eternally terrified of women.)
Lately I have non chilantly been running in to men that I have gone out with in the past, which makes for a less than awakward experience and has added validity to my claim of dating 75% of "my type" of men in this city. Within 2 weeks I managed to run in one guy from my 2nd run at match.com at a pizza place. I remembered him as the guy who literally got up during our mid coffee date, abruptly ending the conversation for no apparent reason, and just leaving. Not many people dumbfound me, hence why I remembered exactly who he was. I remember asking myself if I was getting punked and waited for Ashton to jump out from behind the plant at starbucks or something.
As my friend and I stood there waiting for our pizza, which seemed like an eternity, because the guy and I were about 10 feet from each other and I had immediately recognized him, I channeled my inner childhood and brushed off my ventriloquist skills to non chilantly alert my friend as to what was going on. I caught him looking at me with that awkward "I know you from somewhere, but I can't figure it out." So naturally, I turned away from him to hide my ID badge, in efforts to maybe confuse him 1/10th of what he had done to me.
There was another instance to which I ran in to another guy I ran into at my friends bday party at Cavo no more than less than a month later. This guy could of qualified as royalty in the douchebag family. He was the first guy I found myself liking after my break up. He seemed sweet, was my type (looks wise) and didn't smother me with questions in our conversations. When we met he was everything I expected and more.. until he tried to get a little handsy after our scare house date, to which I flat out told him I wasn't sleeping with him. Naturally that was the last I had heard from him until that night at Cavo. So when he walked up to me, I about a 6 on the drunk scale, somehow I channeled my inner drunken rainman and remembered who he was and I naturally called him out. Slurring my words I said to him, "oh yeah you are the douchebag that didn't call me because I didn't fuck you on our first date." I then gave him a thumbs up with a cheesy, "if I throw a stick will you leave me alone" smile and walked away. His true nature shined as brightly as the sun when I watched him in the VIP section basically shoving alcohol down the throats of girls that their presence just screamed, "I have daddy/self esteem issues." At that point I realized I had came out a winner, and watching him pathetically try to get girls drunk enough to take them home to bang them. Apparently having some sort of self respect for yourself is not the trending color or the season.
Recently though, I have met some normal decent men, but unfortunately there is just no mutual spark or chemistry. I havent had to throw a date in quite some time. Online however, I still manage to be the equavillant of freak fly paper.
With that being said, I would like to share with you some people that just don't get the whole, "I'm just not that in to you"
Dear Martin the Masterbater,
Wow, you certainly put the "master" in the word masterbation don't ya? I bet loads of socially awkward men from the oceans of plenty of fish seek out your knowledge in the art of masterbaition...you are like the handy-llama. "I'd tap that?" I'm glad you felt the need to compare me to a keg because even if I were to consume the 1982 ounces of beer that a 1/2 keg holds, I still wouldn't find you attractive. If you can't even pick up the dirty laundry that is on the floor of the bedroom at your parents house that you have never moved out of, you clearly are incapiable of picking up a woman.
I'm glad that a legamite quality you seek in a soulmate depends on wether their vagina is sporting a playoff beard or looks like a Mexican hairless chihuahua. I mean screw personality, looks or income, apparently the key attribute to a long lasting relationship in your
mind is if the carpet matches the drapes or is a hardwood floor. It's hard to believe that someone as intellegent as you, with such a intellegent mind set is single. Considering its winter, I'm single and you aren't even worth a 2 pack of razors at the dollar store, I'll let you visualize me singing the Indiana jones theme as i pretend to use my machete to hack through the jungle, knowing it's not at all for you.
Dear Chatty Charlie,
No I do not want to go ice skating with you, hence why I didn't respond. I did block you, because you felt the need to constantly send me messages to which I never responded, hoping you would get the point that I was not interested, but instead you insisted on continuing to have a conversation with yourself. All because you got a new screen name, and found me again, still doesn't make me interested in you. It's not because you have a "beautiful" daughter that I will not go out with you. Fyi-Everyone thinks their child is beautiful, so playing that card won't work. I admire the notion of "Not taking no for an answer" when it comes to thinks like: getting a refund for something that defective, fighting for your right to party, or working a customer service job that is commission based for up selling, but annoying someone in to even talking to you, is not a good way to start a relationship that only exsists in your head. It will be a good morning for me when I dont wake up to 60 messages sent from you during this one sided conversation...
You should be proud of what your life has become. I mean really, I hope you wake up every day, take a shit, look down at it, and reflect on the similarities between that heaping pile of shit and what your life has become. Sadily I'm sure your roomate is used to hearing the sounds of your sobbing coming from your empty bedroom, post ejactulation. I envision your bedroom like that of an 18 year old boy. Posters of half naked women probably cover the walls, playboys and hustlers tucked under your twin mattess that is on the floor and credit card bills piled on the desk next to your computer, including charges from pornhub
and other various porn and live cam sites. I'm sure turning on a black light would result in your bedroom glowing so brightly that it could be seen from space, revealing what one would think that the great sperm massacre of 69' occurred there. It's probably a good thing that your sperm has not actually generated anything productive aside from just making your room as sticky as the floor at any given bar in the south side. I hope after the 11th profile that you will need to create on Pof because the first 10 were unsuccessful, that you still don't find anyone stupid enough to allow you to procreate. I truly hope you find a swallower.
Keeping it real
-Shelby
