Over the past year or so I’ve had the opportunity to meet a lot of women that I might not have otherwise. This has been both a good thing and a bad thing. I’ve noticed something…there are a few types that I keep coming up against, and they keep getting on my last nerve. In no particular order:

Swagger Here, There And Everywhere: 

I’m sure that you’ve had more than your share of willing bed-mates (in your dreams at least), and just one look from those bedroom eyes has zippers in a rush to undo themselves. Lucky for me I’ve always preferred button-fly jeans. There’s a thin line between arrogance and confidence, and some women are plain unaware of the distinction. I have been subjected to women who are of the firm opinion that just because I’ve deigned to speak to them once, it means that I’m interested. Really? I thought it meant that I’m polite. Please, I would love to know where you get your weed, reefer, herb or whatever else you choose to call it. Clearly it is of a very high quality and I need a supply for those ultra-stressful times when I need a break from reality (note to internet police: I don’t actually do any type of drugs).

The Martyrs: 

“I’ve never had anyone really understand me before”, “I just want to find someone who’ll make me feel special”. Sound familiar? These women are all over you in the beginning because you’re just soooo sweet, but they quickly get bored because you don’t have enough of an edge (translation: you don’t actually treat them like dirt). You, my dears, are the bane of all the chocolate buying, candlelit dinner making, warm bath with rose petals drawing, hopeless romantics out there. Having a marked lack of patience myself, I have never quite understood why anyone would willingly choose to be treated badly. If someone can’t be bothered with my needs then I’m going to drop you like a hot potato (which I have done on occasion…I do have a habit of being clumsy), but it looks like that’s just me.

The Velcro Artists: 

So named because seem to want to stick to me…like a tick…draining all the energy from me and, well you get the idea. These are the ones who are apparently under the impression that stalking makes the heart grow fonder, and hope to achieve this goal by making my phone overheat and spontaneously combust. I have no need for the knowledge that your pet cat just coughed up a fur ball so kindly resist the urge to call me for the tenth time today just to impart that information. I can count on zero fingers the number of people who can get away with even one call to me every day. You need professional help, and I mean that in the most non-sarcastic of ways. If you’re truly imagining that there’s so much of a bond between us after one conversation…that is not normal. You have deeper issues you need to deal with and I’m nowhere near qualified (or willing) to be a therapist.

Well those are my three pet peeves when it comes to women (I’m medicated and cannot actually remember the others…or my name). Feel free to add to the the list.

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