Too Many Dicks and None of them Stick.

Guys. I don’t get it. I’m a pretty good catch. I’m smart. I got my shit together. I don’t have any baby mama drama. I got an ass you could but your milkshake on. I give amazing blow jobs AND you damn well know I’m funny. I want to date me. So why then is it so hard to find a dick that sticks?

Take last Sunday for example. I leave a fabulous gay dance party at the still peak hour of 2 am to go meet Nepalese Squeeze. Now I’ll admit this was probably a poor decision on my part since I was A) drunk, and B) he could barely string together a coherent text message. But I was wearing booty shorts that gays loved, so I felt I at least could have been at my best. Maybe it was because of those reasons, and the fact that I haven’t gotten laid in awhile that I go over to his house.

INT. APARTMENT- EARLY MORNING

The apartment is huge in the trendy neighborhood of SOHO. As our protagonist walks in there are three bankers doing lines in the living room.

SALLY

Hey….whats up (memory gap)…do all bankers do coke?

NEPALESE

Yeah probably. And bankers wanna party. Let’s go!

All three leave the apartment to continue to party. The end of the evening culminates in a 4 am gyro and the protagonist passing out half naked with contacts fused to her eyeballs.

INT. NEPAL’S BEDROOM- LATE MORNING

Sally and Nepal lay in bed till 3 pm watching movies from his king sized bed. They cuddle for most of the morning and then fool around. Sally discovers what an East Asian penis looks like. Sally is not impressed. However, she enjoys the level of intimacy and feels that he is equally enjoying himself. When its finally time to go, she stops at the door for a kiss. He gives a quick peck like he couldn’t be happier to see her go.

The next day she sends him a text message. FADE IN- Empty phone screen.

FADE TO BLACK

ROLL CREDITS

Wait…what? That’s not how I thought the movie would end! I thought this was a damn Rom-Com!! Where the girl always gets the guy! Where’s the fucking happy ending where the couple falls in love, a fabulous wedding, and a house in the Hamptons?!?

Unfortunately this isn’t a movie, but instead the shit show that is my life. And I don’t get it? What am I doing wrong here? Was he turned off at some point? Did I walk into bad lighting? Has it been too long since my last wax? Did he smell that fart I tried to keep firmly under the blankets? And why is it I have to reach into my bag of insecurities every time I get rejected? Why is this MY fault when I’m clearly the better party? Shouldn’t it be his fault that he’s the arrogant prick with a small prick? Why then am I the one getting the cold shoulder??

And yet maybe it is my fault. Maybe, like the guy wearing his penis on his sleeve, I wear my neediness on my sleeve. Perhaps I wear the eau de toilet of desperation. Of loneliness. Why does my feeling of security rest on some badly spelled words on a phone’s screen?

But then again…I think I just got a text message…