Dear Boys,
I’m sick of you always talking about how much you miss your ex-girlfriend. Sure, she might have been way cooler than me, but I didn’t dump you, so that’s got to count for something.
I’m sick of you making snide comments about how my hair, teeth, clothing, nails, weight et al are under par- yet you are consistently overweight, under shaven, and wearing the first thing you found off your floor that passed the sniff test. Or, you are the opposite and care more about clothing, shoes, and hair than any person alive should.
I’m sick of how you constantly talk about how great your job is or how much money you make, but never take me any place really fancy. I don’t advertise DD boobs and pull out a size A, do I?
I’m sick of those of you who are only looking for sex. In the future, please understand that there are girls out there who give you sex with no strings attached. They are called prostitutes. They have their own title because they make it abundantly clear to you that is what they are for. I do not carry that title. How are you confused by this?
I’m sick of you never wanting to leave your house. I’m sure your Madden Steelers vs. Saints game is pretty intense, and I’m sure it will absolutely make a difference in the upcoming football game—but does it have to be finished at 8pm on Saturday night? What am I supposed to do on date night?
Honestly, I’m quite sick of constantly being single. But above all else, I’m sick of your shit, so I guess that’s the way it’s going to have to be until you shape up.
Love (eventually),
Alice
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