SpinSTARhood
On the M14 bus, an Evil Teen called me "old" today. Ouch! Okay, so I did ask him, very politely, to remove his dick from my shoulder. Is that any reason for him call me "old like [his] grandmama?" Subsequently, I called him a punk-bitch. Excuse me, did I say I was proud? Look, he started it! And, just in case you think that I might rationalize to myself that I "won" that public transportation display, let me mention the 9-5-job-tired-church-goin' women who were w/ me on the "remove your dick from my shoulder" request quickly turned on me after I called the Jr. Jackass a punk-bitch. They gave me a collective "tsk-tsk" head-shake that says "You need Jesus in yo' life". (Side note: Should've called him "jackass" and avoided the "tsk-tsk" judgment of Christians - spot the irony.)
He just had to pick today of all days to call me old, the little f*ck. I'm a week and a half into my oh-so-smooove and mature (not!) break-up, during which my Ex mentioned that he'd heard women over 40 have Down's Syndrome babies. Nice. Believe me, if a kid of ours were mentally sub-Genius, it would NOT have come from my gene pool, ifyagitsmameanin.
So, instead of joining a quilting circle or learning how to put my hair into a sensible bun and hanging out my libido to dry, I've been contacting guys on CL - because I'm cheap, okay? I ended up exchanging photos with a guy from Hoboken who is 35 and balding (!), w/ a pot belly - by his own admission! You know what that means, right? If he's acknowledging his belly, then it must be huge! Whatev, I thought, right? He seemed funny, from his emails.
Then, even after seeing my photo, he wrote back and bazooka'd himself in the foot. It read: "even though [I'm] out of his normal age-range for dating, he can't resist the urge to flirt with [me]..."
Oh, no he di'n't.
I wrote back, pointing out that he's NO Ashton and Demi, that AARP Pin-Up Model, is OLDER then I. (I know, weak citing Hollywood Crapola to support my argument, but...)
He'd had the gall to ask what was I looking for in a man. I answered, "a man willing to extend as much leeway as he expects himself." That, and no short dudes or lard asses. Surely, that cauterised his urge to flirt.
Next, we have the 40-yr-old "Date" who showed up hungover on rollerblades! No, no points for balance. Hungover? Cancel. Arrive on skates only if (1) you are 7 (2) that was the mutually-agreed upon, truly geeky plan, or (3) you are also wearing a sparkly-pink tu-tu and Thelebrating continuing your Thelebasthee. Toss in that he was vaguely similar to Harvey Feirstein, which makes it a double-bad choice on his part to show up to a heterosexual date doing something so very femme.
Therefore, if I'm going to be relegated to SpinSTARhood and called "grandmama old" then, I'm gonna fuss like one and take ya'll to school:
(my hands are on my hips)
Where do these guys get off? More importantly - who's letting these MF*rs back on?!!
Women, let's take a stand. Pledge to stop allowing them to believe whatever Adonis-image they have of themselves and replace it w/ liberal doses of Reality. Poke the pudgies in their bellies, pat the shrimps on the head, toss fistfuls of sequins in the paths of roller(gay!)bladers - but, if you call 'em a punk-bitch, first scan the area for Church Women.
And...Fellas, when sending a photo, we are not baffled by the bandana. It does not look like hair. Ditto baseball caps.
SpinSTARhood. Awesome.
posted by GniessGirl @ 7:19 AM
1 comments
