 If she doesn't want to date me, she's a bitch by Jake Wilburn, Associate Editor
I can't flatter myself enough to say I'm the handsomest guy in the Northern Hemisphere. And it's not like I drive an Eclipse or anything. But all superficiality aside, there is a certain unique quality I possess that should easily make such issues laughably unimportant. I believe this quality is best described as "Awesomeness." I do awesome things, I say awesome stuff, and, overall, I just kick awesome ass. However, there is a particular self-proclaimed Queen of the Goddamn Galaxy in my 20th Century Short Story class who either fails to perceive my astounding characteristics or feels she is too good for Awesomeness itself. I find the latter to be a discouragingly bold statement, even for a conceited bitch.
Since the start of the semester, I've been making grade A courtly gestures toward this girl, whom, for privacy's sake, I'll refer to as Madam I'm-So-Great. I've purposely sat near her, stared at her with an inviting smirk for prolonged periods of time, and even made a point to wear the shirts from my wardrobe that present me as the hottest dude I can be. But, much thanks to her haughty, discriminating ass, these have all turned out to be wasted efforts.
So, after making zero progress, I decided the other day to employ the ol' delightful personality and ace conversational skills. I approached her after class with a very alluring, "Hey," and then she said, "Hi." And I asked her suavely, "Do you know when our next test is?" and she responded, "Yeah, it's next Tuesday." Then I said, laden with more-than-friendly advances, "Oh. I thought it was later, like next Thursday." She then replied, "Nope. Tuesday," and then walked right off to wherever she was going, which I now assume was some sort of Bitch Convention in which the bitchiest bitches from the tri-county area gather and hold a forum to discuss new methods of being a snobby, unsympathetic bitch. In any case, the fact that she wasn't even remotely enamored with me after all that has left me as confused as I am super-pissed.
See, as an English major, I've acquired the impressive skills of both poetry interpretation and proper semicolon usage. But, along the way, I've gained a considerable amount of knowledge as to how future data entering and 7th grade Language Arts-teaching babes operate. And according to my calculations, 9 out of 5 of them have no good reason not to want to experience me physically. So if she truly feels that she breaks the mold, she's either mistaken or just fucking mean. This isn't solely my opinion; my mom, grandmother, and friend-who's-a-girl Alyssa are all in full agreement.
But, though I hate her a lot, in a way I feel sorry for her. She is lifting her nose to a magically awesome relationship highlighted with real good sex, witty commentary during movies, and insight into which bands are good and which are for un-me-like morons.
Now that I think about it, maybe I'm not missing out on much. The thing I find most attractive about a girl is her belief that I am a total badass, something that this girl is obviously lacking. Also, she's probably on her way to fatsville, and she has a really stupid birthmark on her calf. |
