Perhaps after I had taken you out to a dinner at a place where people put nice pants on, cheerfully ordered the vodka in my drink by name to appear cultured, dropped ten bucks on Area 51 while waiting for the movie because you can't shoot aliens worth a damn, shelling out outrageous movie ticket prices which I know full well are going into buying props like ugly bridesmaid #7's dress and taking a cab home because you don't like the way Park Street smells and me trying to kiss you good night wasn't the best time to turn away and tell me that you weren't ready to start a relationship because you had just got out of another.
I had a great time and I got no problem burning bucks to have a good time, happiness is more important than money any day. But while you're relaxing in your warm apartment, I'm walking back to fucking Brighton in 10 degree weather because it's 12:50am and the T is closed, I got half a hardon that's mad at me for waking it up for no reason when its cold out, I just threw away 2 1/2 Sunday shifts at City Sports working the stupid shoe floor where everyone wants goddamn Merrills, and by the time I got home the keg was empty and everyone had already eaten all the mushrooms.
It wasn't like I was handing you a ring or making plans to take you to my parents place, lady. I could have dealt with all of this if you had just given me a quick peck and a smile and I would have floated home on rays of fucking sunshine.
A few notes for you, because I'm all about constructive criticism:
1) Shoot the big green aliens with the shotgun. They're twice the size, they need more firepower. We're not talking quantum physics here.
2) Gainfully employed women don't order Smirnoff Ice at a restaurant.
3) Park Street smells because the train wheel lubricants biodegrade. Way to hate the environment.
4) Hugh Grant sucks as a standing rule. Even if you make him a woman and name him Cameron Diaz or something stupid, he still sucks and the movie is still a waste of time.
5) When you tuck your jeans into those big furry boots, you look like a yak. Yak's aren't hot. If you're gonna dress like that, make sure I've had way more to drink and wear something with a more revealing neckline to balance it out.
6) Don't think I didn't see that pair of fucking Merrills next to your front door. I hate you.
So thanks but no thanks, I'll be dining with alternate company in the future. Mooch.
