Bitchassness

Sometimes I just feel like writing a sign like this one and posting it on my forehead so all the men'll know to stay away when I'm in a mood.

Newsflash, I'm in a mood. (And the first dude who even so much as suggests I'm PMSing better be prepared to lose a limb!)

I'm usually pretty cavalier about my failed dates and bad dating situations, but they seem to be steadily multiplying these past few weeks, what with first dates at Chevy's, black people who have no concept of Africa and dudes in love with sample sales.

I was perfectly prepared to give Mr. Senegal a try; really I was...'til I didn't hear from him for a week, and then he just pops up with, "What are you up to?" like I just spoke to him an hour before. Even after that, I told myself that wasn't a good enough reason to write dude off, and agreed to meet him out dancing a few days later with my friends.

On the day we're supposed to meet, he calls me to make sure I'm still going. I confirm. "Ok, I'll call you when I'm leaving work and see where you are." (He leaves work at 8).

Nine o'clock comes. No call.
Ten o'clock...no call.
By 10:30, I've decided it's a wrap for him; but my girlfriends are still hopeful.
By midnight, I'm already crafting the message I will send him the next day: "Call me in 4 years when you've grown up."

I shrug him off, and decide to make the most of my night (not that he ruined it, because we were really having a fantastic time without him, and it wasn't like I was sitting in a corner pining for him to show up, but it's the principle of the thing!)

1:00 a.m. I receive a text: "Are you having fun?"

Can you believe the balls of this guy??!! I've heard that African dudes are, erm, well-proportioned, but this dude must have some balls the size of grapefruits to stand me up and then have the nerve to send me a text asking if I'm having fun. The nerve, the unmitigated gall even! Needless to say, I haven't responded.

Damn young boys...