There must have recently been a huge clearance sale on cowboy hats, shirts with foot long fringe on the sleeves and mother of pearl snaps. Everybody who showed up at the store with a checkbook, a credit card or cash, has found me.
I had fifteen messages this afternoon when I checked.
There were two who, in their first message to me, took the liberty of calling me “sweetheart.” (Um. I hate to break it to you, but I’m NOT your fucking sweetheart.)
One messaged me yesterday and I ignored it. He sent me another message today, saying “c’mon. Am I really so bad that you can’t even respond?” (Well, there had to be SOME reason you didn’t get a response. Maybe it was because you were on a motorcycle, in front of a bar, holding a pool cue.)
I got another message from him. Apparently, since I didn’t answer his last message, he said “I take it we’re through chatting?” I responded “I have other things to do right now. I apologize for not making you my priority.” (I guess I should have represented myself as a high-priced call girl and said “you want chat? Send check.”)
There were three more men in their early fifties, who said “age is just a number and besides, you don’t look anywhere near your age.” (Oh sure. Shallow flattery about my age will have me thinking….in valley girl talk….Oh, my God! I feel like I’m in high school again!)
There was a message from a retired firefighter. We have absolutely nothing in common other than the connection with EMS but I’m not going to discuss my private life with anybody on this site. (Maybe I should do what Loser did and say “you’re just a fucking firefighter.”)
I mean, come on. If you don’t have a Duke degree, you’re like me…..worthless.
I did get a message from a man who could actually form a complete sentence. He has a JD degree…which I assume is a Jurisprudence Degree but you know what they say when you assume…..you end up marrying a pig-shit Loser. (Of course, this man could be a valuable asset, considering my sons’ lifestyle so maybe I’ll “play” with him a bit.)
I loved the message from the man whose personal picture is Jesus. Now, true….I could use a little Divine intervention but I have already been married to God, so I think I’ll risk burning in Hell rather than get involved with His “son.”
Out of the fifteen, fourteen were only 5′ 10″ or less. Now, I’ve heard that size doesn’t matter and I don’t have much of a marker to measure by but a few inches can make a lot of difference. (We’re not talking about the exaggerated length of a
penis…um fish here. We’re talking about height.)
Lastly, there’s the self-described “beach bum.” Oh, yeah…my favorite place to hang out…the beach. There was a nice picture of him kissing his dog….another one of his hairy chest and his message was “your” cute. (My cute what? Could he possibly have meant “you’re cute?”)
Ugh….done for today.