Just because your dad died, doesn’t mean I’ll go out with you
When I was in highschool, there was a group of boys four years above us who were all blonde and hot. They never showed the slightest interest in us during school, but after graduation, I became visible.
One night I spotted the group’s ringleader, Ryan, at a local nightclub. I caught his eye, then looked away and smiled. He approached me and asked, “Can I buy you a drink?” and thus began a brief sort of relationship.
Ryan was attractive, friendly and smelled nice. However, once we got to know each other a bit better, I realised that he was painfully boring. I didn’t really care about any part of his personality because it was all so mundane and ordinary, I wanted to stab out my eyes with a dirty chopstick. The sex was good, but when it came to conversation, I would have preferred a homeless person. The issue was that Ryan was too normal and well-balanced for me. I need to date men who are tortured and neurotic and irrational, otherwise I lose interest after about eight minutes. So whenever Ryan talked, my eyes would glaze over and I would fantasise about being with somebody less average. Every time he suggested we go out for dinner or a movie, I would panic at the thought of being forced to endure hours of his conversation. “Why don’t we just stay at your place and fool around?” I would suggest, trying to reign the relationship back to its shallow, physical roots.
After a month or so of this, I met somebody more interesting and stopped answering Ryan’s calls. I then successfully avoided him until roughly a year later, when I bumped into him at the same club in which we met.
“Hey!” he cried, scooping me into a hug.
“Hi,” I said, pulling away from him.
“Gosh, I haven’t heard from you in ages!” he said.
“I lost my phone,” I lied.
“Can I take you out for a drink sometime?” he asked.
“Oh, I don’t think so. No, thank you.”
“Hey, Neek,” he said, beginning to look downcast, “I don’t know if you heard, but my dad had a heart attack a few months ago and he… he died. My dad died.”
“Oh. I’m sorry,” I said, scanning the bar for my friends.
“I could sort of use someone to talk to right now,” he said quietly.
“Well you’ve still got your mum, right?” I reminded him. “Listen, my ride’s about to leave. Take care.”
11 Responses to “Just because your dad died, doesn’t mean I’ll go out with you”
Love it..
Why is it that the only women I ever met wanted CONVERSATION and no fooling around?!
Where were you when I was young and virile?!
Who pulls the deceased parent card to score poontang? Weak.
@Bort – you just need to go for the commitment-phobic types. Although, too late now.
@Zac – I know, right? I was sympathetic about the dad dying, but not enough to sleep with him.
You bitch!
You wouldn’t still have this guys number, would you?…
@Brian – no chance. This was many moons ago…when I was eighteen.
I only date weirdos, because I am terrifically bored by normal people … consequently, I have developed a reputation. Well, at least I have some stories. Last guy I dated was a porn addict!
@ambrosemrosie – I think you should start a blog called “Weird guys I have dated”
hahaha oh god… i think i know who that was about… i happened to date him post-dad-dying. and it didnt make him any more interesting.
@Jess – haha got it in one…
MY GOLDFISH DIED, GIVE ME A RIM JOB WHOREFACE.
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