Over the last few weeks my interest in guys has been diminishing. Guess what? I'm not meeting winners. None of the guys that I fuck with, or don't fuck with, are winners. They all kind of seriously suck. From the guy who was in prison, to the guy that works at the mall because of his DUI, to the guy who wanted to impregnate me (no joke), these fuckers are not winners. And for the record, I could not make this shit up, even if I tried. It's a mess. It's a whole thing of messes. Let's not spend a lot of time on it right now, but for sure I'll talk hella shit about these guys later.
These guys aren't winners, and for Lent I gave up dick. I'm no Catholic. I wasn't baptized. I don't go to church often, potentially ever, and I am certainty not religious. So it came as a surprise to me that somehow, without planning this, I gave up dick for Lent. We can say that my stream of non-winners dried up. I didn't, but they did. (Heeeeeeyyyyyyyyyyy!) And, sure, there were a few stragglers after I declared my non-Lent to be sex-free, but I felt like I'd be scraping the bottom of the barrel with these guys, so I passed. (And, FYI, beggars can be choosers, so there.)
All this really means is that there hasn't been any pathetic sex. Sure, I talk to these mofos, but I'm not actually planning on inviting them over to my home, with my two children. I can't expose Blair to that yet. Kermi, well, she's a wild one, but Blair was born in civilization.
Anyways, as I was saying, I talk to them. This is a little snippet of the last piece of trash I talked to.
Tinder is whack. Let's all take a moment to realize this as a fact. And people, this is a fact. Sure, others have said that it's Satan's butthole, or something along the lines, and I'm not saying that they're wrong, but I will say that we can all as a community agree that Tinder is whack as fuck? Let's do it! This last guy I met on Tinder, his name is Kenny? I don't know. For all I know, this could be a fake name. And the first message? It was such a piece of shit message: something about tying me down and fucking me. So white guy basic. Like really bro? That's the best you can do? But, boredom breeds desperation, and desperation is where basic conversation begins. Alas, a basic conversation began.
I don't remember it, and I can't go back to look at it, because he unmatched me on Tinder, but it wasn't anything worth noting. He did ask me for my Snap, which is how we've been messaging~ish. Honestly, whatever messaging and Snapping has happened, a lot of it has been related to things of a sexual nature. Like him mentioning spanking me, to the various Snaps he sent me of his dick or of him jerking off, to the most basic white boy message ever asked: "What are you wearing?" Yes, I've had the "privilege" to have encountered all of this and so much more in the last week! Quick side note, but am I the only person that has beef with Snapchat and not being able to save messages? Like that is some pure bullshit.
Sorry.
So that was my Monday. Apart from doing laundry, white homeboy was trying hard to get an invite. I was not feeling it, so I passed. And there was no way I was gonna drive to...wherever he was. That wasn't gonna happen.
And that was it. For like the rest of the week I heard nothing. I wasn't truly interested so I could give two shits, which I did. I minded my own business. I woke up, showered, went to work, went home, and slept. Somewhere in there I saw my cats and ate and talked hella shit, as per my usual, and I didn't spend more than a second thinking about that foo. I couldn't afford to. I'm a busy woman. I have shit to do. And he stayed silent, that is, until last night.
There was no chat, there was only a Snap. I've seen many bongs in my life, but this one definitely reminded me of the movie Half Baked. I love Half Baked. I'm glad Dave Chappelle came back. Good for him. The Snap only consisted of a giant bong and some weed. I was gonna reply, but he'd take that as a sign of my interest, which, once I found out I'd been unmatched had begun to waver. So a reply was not an option. I just went back to finally folding my clean clothes and proceeded to pass out once I had finished. My life is hella exciting.
This morning I woke up to a new Snap. It was sent to me some time after 6am, which I thought was weird, but I was running late so I didn't dwell on it. I got ready, and for some reason I decided to play it while I was putting on my shoes. And I felt every after school special come back to haunt me.
It was coke. It was a tiny bag of cocaine, there was some outside of it in the shape of a smiley face, a line of it, and a rolled up dollar bill, all on top of a mirror. Okay, not to take away from the seriousness of all this but if you're gonna try to glamorize coke use, which you shouldn't, shouldn't you AT LEAST use a $100 bill, or maybe even a $50 bill??? Like a dollar bill?? Your broke coke using self isn't impressing anyone. I can only hope this half rant brought a smile to your face.
So, cocaine. Candy. And, according to Scarface, yeyo. I've never done coke, I have no desire to do coke. Like nothing about it has ever inspired me to do a line. I see nothing there that makes me go "Ooh, that looks so good. I wanna try that!" Nope, that's never been me. With any drug, that has never been me. No, wait, lie. Adderall has appealed to me at some point. I don't want to lie to you, dear readers.
But like coke? Really? When did we go back to the 80s? When did coke come back in style? When did we say it was okay to be that douche from The Wolf of Wall Street? The answers to these questions are: we didn't, it hasn't, and we never will. #nomoredoucheywhiteboysforever
I'm not trying to shame anyone for their drug use because I'm not about that life. But if you use that as a means to impress anyone, which I highly suspect is what was going on here, then you're kinda pathetic. If all you have to impress anyone is you access to coke and your dick, guess what? You're not impressive anyone, ever. And to very much sound like that after school special, it's what's on the inside that counts.
The long short of it is that one coke Snap this morning later and I am just done with boys. I've said it before and I'll say it again: they're not winners. I should really stop wasting my time on these guys who, and I cannot emphasize this enough AREN'T WINNERS. I don't plan on talking to this guy ever again, or even opening his Snaps. I don't send Snaps because I'm not 15 and Snapchat sucks. I'm not gonna use a Snap to flirt with a guy. That's bush league. No. Nope. Never.
I think that's it for this edition of FML guys suck. Until next time, kiddies.
Here's a song about cocaine: