re: I was sure I was flirt-texting with The One. Until he saw me on Instagram

When you get into your 30's and you're not married, your best option in life is to put away the superficial ways of your 20's, find a girl just attractive enough to get your dick hard and that makes good money. Far to often you see guys still chasing the younger girls every man desires and ends up breaking himself in the process. She'll get old, and more than likely fat and ugly. So not only did you end up with a fat and ugly chick in the long run, you're also broke because she doesn't work and spent all of your money. I'd rather be set in life with the average looking chick and watch the bank roll pile up. Plus, she won't be the type to say no to giving out blowjobs.

ETA: Not really talking of this situation specifically. This girl was suffocating without even meeting.

IM ENTITLED TO DATES AND YOU ARE A SHALLOW PIG IF YOU DONT FIND ME ATTRACTIVE!

Some context:

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It began at a celeb-studded non-event in Beverly Hills the evening before with a few other journalist friends. All pomp and circumstance, no substance. One of my colleagues — we'll call him Riley — was there with me, stalking celebs and dreading the non-story we were going to have to turn in the next morning. He'd always been flirty with me, but then, he was flirty with all the women I knew on this side of the red ropes.

During the dinner portion of the evening as I sat next to Riley, I asked for his number. I promptly texted him my name after he gave it. My phone vibrated. "Oh heeeyyyy," the screen read.

A few boring speeches later and after the entree was served, Riley got up to make the rounds to see who was hobnobbing with whom. I scarfed down my food, as I generally do when free fare is placed before me. Realizing Riley had been gone for some time, I texted him to ask if he'd like me to save his food in case they tried to take it away.

"Only the good stuff," he joked.

"It's chicken," I replied.

"Put it in your purse."

All right … now we're having fun. You know, Riley was flirting with me extra tonight. He'd even put his hand on my leg affectionately at one point.

We went back and forth for a bit and got naughty. It was fun and funny. I could totally date this guy.

After the event ended and we headed out to valet, I walked out with Riley and giggled that we could probably stop texting now and just talk IRL ("in real life").

Riley turned to me completely confused.

"What are you talking about?"

I explained again that we could just stop the texting shenanigans and flirt in person, since we were obviously into each other. Again, he was dumbfounded and looked at me with confusion and possible dread. I handed him my phone. He scanned the texts and looked up to tell me it wasn't him.

My face went white.

Who had I been texting? Who was responding so quickly? Who was calling me a "naughty wizard" out of the blue and joking about treehouses?!

Riley was beside himself laughing. I was laughing too, because, well, what else was I going to do?

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Way more embarrassing.

bitches always be telling other bitches they good looking enough



theyre not

Because she's as crazy as a shithouse rat, in a profession that is constantly telling women how beautiful even the most hideous of them is, in a society that lies to women about their worth, friends with people who lie about her attractiveness, and in an age group that by and large doesn't know how to deal with direct human interaction.

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I feel it's important to note at this point that I'm attractive.

I'm no Eva Mendes, but I'm above-average decent-looking, if that's OK to say about oneself.

But my best theory — since I live in Los Angeles and have been dating here for seven years now with no luck at all — is that I wasn't hot enough. I wasn't a 10. I wasn't a model or an actress with perfect hair and size 0 jeans; that a common sense of humor and humility and matching demographics just weren't enough and he figured his model would be waiting for him at his next Tinder swipe.

Or maybe I'm wrong. Maybe he did die.

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As someone who has had to settle more than a few times when it comes to personal standards regarding looks for women, bitch needs to get off of her high horse.

I'm tired of females labeling any guy seeking an attractive woman as some shallow a-hole who is disillusional about his own appearance.

I'm sorry ladies that your value depreciates like a brand new vehicle driven off of a dealearship lot. I know it sucks, but failing to put any effort into maintaining the longevity of such value is no excuse to attempt to criticize guys looking for a vehicle with better value and newer features.

Most American adults generally see a steep decline in appearance and fitness between the commencement and culmination of their 20s. It's called aging and effort. Some people do it more gracefully than others.

There are people who care about that sort of thing, and those who don't. I'm not going to shite on someone who doesn't make such superficial qualities their top priority, but it doesn't give them the right to criticize those who value such things.

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I showed his picture to a few friends to make sure I was in his league and he was in mine — we were, they assured me. So I couldn't understand why he'd stop our banter, why he didn't want to meet. Maybe he died. This is generally what I think happens to guys that stop talking to me.

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In all seriousness, how many of your female friends would you expect to be honest with such a question? My guess is very few of them.

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and in an age group that by and large doesn't know how to deal with direct human interaction.

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that's the gaming board

"Omw someone's not attracted to me!"

Join the club, ladies.

quote:

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It began at a celeb-studded non-event in Beverly Hills the evening before with a few other journalist friends. All pomp and circumstance, no substance. One of my colleagues — we'll call him Riley — was there with me, stalking celebs and dreading the non-story we were going to have to turn in the next morning. He'd always been flirty with me, but then, he was flirty with all the women I knew on this side of the red ropes.

During the dinner portion of the evening as I sat next to Riley, I asked for his number. I promptly texted him my name after he gave it. My phone vibrated. "Oh heeeyyyy," the screen read.

A few boring speeches later and after the entree was served, Riley got up to make the rounds to see who was hobnobbing with whom. I scarfed down my food, as I generally do when free fare is placed before me. Realizing Riley had been gone for some time, I texted him to ask if he'd like me to save his food in case they tried to take it away.

"Only the good stuff," he joked.

"It's chicken," I replied.

"Put it in your purse."

All right … now we're having fun. You know, Riley was flirting with me extra tonight. He'd even put his hand on my leg affectionately at one point.

We went back and forth for a bit and got naughty. It was fun and funny. I could totally date this guy.

After the event ended and we headed out to valet, I walked out with Riley and giggled that we could probably stop texting now and just talk IRL ("in real life").

Riley turned to me completely confused.

"What are you talking about?"

I explained again that we could just stop the texting shenanigans and flirt in person, since we were obviously into each other. Again, he was dumbfounded and looked at me with confusion and possible dread. I handed him my phone. He scanned the texts and looked up to tell me it wasn't him.

My face went white.

Who had I been texting? Who was responding so quickly? Who was calling me a "naughty wizard" out of the blue and joking about treehouses?!

Riley was beside himself laughing. I was laughing too, because, well, what else was I going to do?

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