Is it Thursday already?
DAMMIT! I can’t even believe it’s Friday already! And stupid Valentine’s Day is this weekend. Fuck, fuck…FUCK me. I don’t even know why I care. It’s only a stupid-lovey-dovey holiday. I mean, why do I care? I don’t. Except I bought that card, remember? I have this funny card, the one that says, “I am BAT SHIT CRAZY for you“. Ya. Well, I’ll just save it for next year. I’m sure I’ll still be bat-shit crazy for someone then, too. A year ain’t gonna change dick. I mean, if I’m bat shit crazy today, I’ll surely be bat-shit cray next year. And do you want to know why? Well if you don’t, stop reading. Because I’m going to tell you…
It’s because of you. Not you girls. You with the double-X, you are safe. You with the vaginas are not causing my angst. You are fine. You can stay. It’s the the other “yous” I’m talking about. The XY heterozygous-penis-swingers in the crowd. You are the reason that next year I will still be coo-coo for Cocoa Puffs. But hey, at least I own my shit. I can fully admit that I am just loco in the keppe from these last two weeks alone! Yup, these past two weeks of trying to catch me a Valentine have clearly thrusted me into the Loopy Zone. Thrusted. Ha. I’ll give you thrusted. I still cannot get over that dude jizzing on my duvet. For Goddess sake, boy! Aim a little higher. My poor father . Sorry, Daddy…just breathe.
I am not angry. I’m not bitter, or jaded. I don’t hate men. I don’t need therapy. I’m not sad, or depressed. I do not need to up my meds, ok? I am fine. I am actually feeling exactly what about 2 gazillion other women are feeling, but they don’t write a blog…or have the balls to say it. I’m just well, I’m missing that connection. Like you aren’t? Come on, guys! Give me a break. Admit it. Be vulnerable. It’s sexy. Women love that shit. We eat it up. I just want a man who can say,”I want you, Jen. Get your sweet ass over here, and gimme some sugar.” Ok, maybe not so stupid-like. But you know. Just say it with WORDS. Use your damn words. Say you like me. It’s ok, I want to hear it. I need to hear it. If you don’t tell me, how do I know? I mean…this dating shit is hard enough without guessing how you feel! SAY IT.
I was on a date the other night (ya, I know I go on a lot of dates, shut it) and he was SO nice. Like beyond nice. And super-cute. Smart. But I had ZERO idea how he was feeling. Like, hellllooooooo. Are you in there? Can you hold my hand? Tell me you like my shoes? Maybe tell me I’m kinda cute? Fuck, I don’t know! So, the check came, and we left. Then afterward, he was like, “I hope you had a great time, I did!” Ummm, no. I didn’t. I thought you hated me. I couldn’t wait to get out of there, and I wanted to stab a fork in my eye. I think that’s the biggest mistake that guys make. They assume that women don’t need to be complimented. We do. We all want to be wanted. Duh. Dating 101. USE YOUR WORDS.
Your words. Start there, boys. Then after you use your words…use your hands. Sigh. Reach out and touch someone. Ummm, ME. Put your hand on my hand. Brush against my arm. Squeeze my leg. OMG lean over and give me a little peck on the cheek. It’s not PDA, it’s letting me know you dig me. Chemistry, lover. If we clicked in Cyber World, we have got to connect in the real world…or it ain’t gonna happen. Now, if you lick my face…and I will bitch slap you. https://thetruthhurvitz.com/?p=226 Ok, I wouldn’t really bitch slap you. But do not lick my face, dumb bunny.
Words, touch…candy. Flowers. Cards with writing. Whatever. Valentine’s Day is on Sunday, and I’m dateless. Wait, no! I have my boys! And they’re taking me out for Mexican. I mean, I did make the reservation. And sure, I will be driving there and paying for the meal. But I guarantee they will be better than any of the asswipes that I could have ended up with. Love me some J&Z.
Cupid, you are fired. I’m sitting Valentine’s Day out this year. But next year…this bitch will be back. Get to work. ;)