I Have Awful Taste In Men

I like lists. So, I decided to make a list of the types of guys I've dated, in honor of never really dating the kind of guy I'm attracted to/want to date. Even better, I will rank them in order of most disliked to most liked (in terms of style and aesthetic.) Feel free to laugh, I know I've made some baaaad choices!

• Frat Boys (times 10...oops)
• Hippie (smelled like patchouli all too often)
• Military Dude (I swear I don't want to be a military wife and pop out 5 kids out of pure loneliness...)
• The Clean Cut/All-American Boy/Jock/Preacher's Kid
• The Rich Bling Blinger
• The Gutter Punk
• The Poor Career College Guy
• The Indie Rock N Roller
• The Artist

I did have to leave out a few "genres" out of the sheer horror I experienced while reminiscing for this post. But feel free to laugh at me anyways...I deserve it!

Face It, You're Just Ugly

I've come across numerous men lately who have no tact. Possibly their mothers drank during their pregnancies or just forgot to teach them how to be gentlemen.
I walked into work the other day, dressed in my work clothes with my hair fixed. I wasn't rocking a fabulous outfit (it's just work), but my boss immediately asked if I had been out drinking the previous night. I said yes (9 times out of 10 this is the case anyways) and he told me that I looked hungover and disheveled! Really?! I thought I looked pretty good...
In another incident, I was asked if I got enough sleep, because I looked tired and exhausted. Actually, I was well rested. Thanks, asshole.
Either these men have no tact, I look awful every day, or I'm just just plain ugly. Thank you "gentlemen" for making me feel so wonderful!!!

Girl Talk & Boy Talk

(And no, I don't mean the musical genius, Girl Talk...)

Recently I was chatting with my girlfriends and telling them about a guy I have the hots for. I planned to be at an event I knew he would be at, and I jokingly told the ladies (in great detail) how he would immediately fall in love with me and be my next boyfriend/great romance. Yes, I did plan on talking to him, but I was really kidding when I planned our future together. 99% kidding, anyways.

As the night progressed, and whisky slaps ensued, I told my GuyFriend all about The Crush I had. GuyFriend happens to be friends with The Crush, but I really consider GuyFriend more of a girlfriend. So, I told him the same scenario about how The Crush was going to immediately fall for me, blah blah blah. GuyFriend didn't get the memo that I was joking, and relayed some of this information to The Crush. Epic Fail.

Needless to say, I am fairly certain I am now thought of as a creepy stalker...which wasn't quite my intention. It's going to be so much harder to get The Crush to fall in love with me now! If only I could girltalk to my guyfriends without them acting girly and spilling the beans! Stupid boys.

Karma Police

Karma's a bitch. For a while now, I've believed that what goes around, comes around, but now I'm not so sure. I think karma is just a nice belief that only serves to strengthen one's attempt to be a good person.

I'm sick of doing nice things for certain people, who in turn are nasty to me. These individuals are within close proximity to me, so I felt the need to go out of my way to be helpful and caring, to promote harmony. I've concluded it will never be reciprocated, so what's the point?

I've decided to only look out for myself now. A friend once said that the best advice he got when he moved to New York, was to not take anything at face value and be wary of who you trust. In a few short months, I've already learned that you can't trust even those you are close to (and by close, I mean proximity only.) So what goes around doesn't come around, a now I've learned not to expect it to.

Fat Head

My brain can't decide if I'm fat or thin and has been perpetually confused for the last few months. I've dropped some pounds since living in NY, thanks to my default workouts...walking everywhere. That's my favorite kind of exercise, the free kind I'm forced to do, otherwise I would be home on the couch, eating bon bons all day long until my blood turned into chocolate.

Now my clothes are all too big and my pants are gangsta rap baggy, so I went shopping for some new ones. I got a size smaller than I normally wear and tried them on. My brain told me they fit right so I bought them. When I wore the new pants to work the next day, I suddenly noticed how huge they were and how they practically fell off my hips....I was back to a saggy ass.

So round 2 commenced. I was sick of wearing saggy britches to work, so I did what any creative poor person with a sewing machine does - I would alter all my pants myself. Usually when I sew, I alternate from cursing at the machine, to ripping, cutting, ruining, cursing some more, then throwing away. This time seemed different though...they turned out right the first time and looked great on me! That was, until I decided to sit or bend my legs and the muffin top squished out and seams threatened to rip.

So now all of my pants are too tight and I'm too hungry to lose any more weight. I guess I have to do what every woman does, and have two separate wardrobes for fat clothes and skinny clothes. Looks like I'll be wearing skirts for a while!

Butterflies in my Belly

With the help of my girlfriends (us ladies must dissect every single part of a relationship/one night stand/glance from a male), I have come up with a new dating rule: You must get butterflies.

If he/she doesn't make your stomach jump around and feel slightly nauseous, your palms don't get sweaty, or you don't feel light headed when you see your special someone, then it's never going to work. Yes, there can be attraction, lust and google eyes, but if there are no physical symptoms, then you've got to nip it in the bud and find someone who does give you the infamous butterflies. No matter how much you try to force it, revel in the attention and live in the fantasy...trust me, its already over before it began.

Just Say No...To Pamphlets

I was standing on the street corner today waiting for public transportation. I actually got bus-raped, which is the sister of train-rape, which is when public transportation royally screws one over. But I digress.

So as I was waiting for the bus, and cursing the fact I didn't wear socks and my feet were going numb and I was sick of waiting for the damn bus, an old lady walked by and tried to hand me some religious leaflet (which I always assume is total propaganda.) I politely shook my head no, and watched her continue walking down the street. She kept turning her head back and forth, looking for her next victim...but she found no one. Several people walked past her, but she didn't try to hand out any leaflets. I was the only one she tried to convert/save/preach to.

What the hell? Was I the only one in a 2 block radius that looked like some pagan/devil worshipper/bastard step-child that needed to be SAVED from the firey pits of Satan's lair? Why was I chosen? I find it ironic that she singled out and chose who she thought needed the good lord/the aliens from scientology/or whatever "savior" she was pushing!
Oh well, I'm sure religious leaflets never saved anyone anyways....