I only bought you those earrings and card because I thought I was leading you on. So I decided to be a proper adult about it. It turns out you were leading me on. Why?
Last Friday when I was at your place and you were drunk (natch) and you lit into me about not having a degree, not having traveled much and not having ate at enough ethic restaurants, I got up, went to the bathroom and told you I just wanted to go to sleep and leave in the morning when the subway opens up. I had already spent $35 on a cab ride there and I didn't want to take a cab ride home again. It turns out a $35 cab ride would have saved my dignity. I thought then and there we had came to a mutual agreement about us. Just let me sleep, bitch, and I'll be on my way. No, you had to come in 5 minutes later with bizarre lovey dovey words and then you had to suck me off. What was the point of that?
The next day there was a point in the morning when you were getting ready and my bail senses were going off. Like, "Jason, you don't like this bitch, she doesn't like you, bail, bail, just fucking bail". I wish I had done it now. We hung out the entire Saturday and it was actually great. Why are you so affectionate? Why are you rubbing my thigh in public, why were you holding my hand and resting your head on my shoulder? What the fuck was I supposed to think? Do casual bed buddies do that sort of thing? Maybe they do, I don't fucking know. It seemed very relationship-ish, though.
Yeah, you kind of cooled down after that Saturday I shroomed with Nicole and sent you fucked up texts and then took the battery out of my phone. I had no idea you were trying to call me all night, I wasn't ignoring you, really, my battery was out of my phone. I did ignore you the next day, though. So what, get over it.
I really do not think you are a nice person. We went to your friend's house, a friend you constantly talked shit about to me, and anybody else. What was the point of even seeing him then? I feel like telling this guy about how you really feel about him because he is actually a decent guy. And, remember when we were there and you were talking dirty in my ear all night about you wanted to fuck me? We got back to my place and you passed out drunk and I had to finger your bizarre, meaty vagina. I swear getting inside that pussy is like trying to peel an orange, I know I said I was a fan of it, but in reality I wasn't. I basically just liked your bum.
But that is another thing. Stop drinking. This coming from me is significant. There weren't many times I was around you when you weren't either drunk or hungover. Stop drinking.
And I'm sorry I couldn't keep it hard for you. Not sure if it was your meat ball vagina or your moustache or the fact that you had more hair on your arms and your back than a fucking Portuguese brick layer. Do something about that, honestly. I seemed to have no problems getting it and keeping it hard for you-know-who when I was seeing her when I wasn't seeing you.
I'm also sorry that I'm not an "intellectual". Did you not read my profile? Yeah, I like clown porn, horse racing and rap songs about sneakers and pot. I'm sorry I can't wax poetic about contemporary Italian dance or the cultural significance of live theater. Remember your rant about the artistic failings of the movie Avatar? That's when I knew you were too much of a pretentious, judgmental bitch. Who the fuck does that? I swear sometimes listening to you was like listening to an audio tape of some terrible New Yorker article.
Anyhow, basically when I'm trying to say is, gofuckyourselfbitch.
I guess
