cathegorizing
... is mean, I know. yadda yadda. though, it's a good way to sort out the worthy from the crap ones
*chuckles*
so, let's see where it all fits in, shall we?
Mr. Runs-away
known to tease, but when it's time to throw the cards on the table, he'll chicken out and runs as if the house is on fire. shoot the start-gun and take his time when he runs the 100 metres.
Mr. oh-my-god-you-scare-me
known to be a bigger pussy than the ones the girls he annoys have in their pants. he'll chat you up because he has nothing better to do and when it's time to get to business, he'll start whining like the 5-year-old he really is, demanding for his mummy. immediately. give him a security blanket and send him home.
Mr. whoops-I-forgot-to-tell-you-but-I'm-really-already-married
has had a bit of amnesia. he plainly forgets to tell his object of desire that he's already coupled up after having wasted a considerable amount of your time. a tell-tale sign is him telling you he has actually had proper cooked food at home or wears clean ironed clothing. get in contact with her-indoors and then lean back to enjoy the show, if so inclined.
Mr. You're-not-a-proper-woman
that one's really funny. you can double-check your XX-chromosomes as much as you like, point out you do have something in the way of a pussy and tits and have menstruated before, but he won't believe any of it, because you don't fit into his target-group for whatever reasons he is likely to make up to make you feel a dope. take a pair of scissors and turn him into a non-proper woman, too and then see how he takes that.
Mr. I've-decided-for-something/someone-else
is someone who'll stand in line at MickyD's for 20 minutes without the ability to choose his burger. He'll change his opinion about sod-all every 5 minutes and your time will be wasted. He'll keep you hanging in the air he clears off oxygen, making you believe he'll know in a minute or two. get out before you notice you're suddenly 42 and you've wasted the past 8 years of your life with someone like that.
Mr. I-want-things-done-exactly-like-my-mammy-did
is someone who thinks they're all cunts apart from his good old mammy. he will go crazy if his undies ain't ironed, the food isn't oversalted, the pasta ain't lumpy and you don't mommy him around 24/7, cooing at him when he has a life-threatening cold or packing him a work-lunch. that one doesn't look for a partner, he only wants to do his mother. send him packing, you don't need another woman's child.
Mr. I'm-too-cheap-to-pay-for-a-prostitute
is someone who thinks, since he's buying you a drink when you go out, he'll get some should you go home with him. he doesn't want sex, he wants the friggin' olympics. trying to go through the kama sutra in just one night, while not giving a fly's shit about you or your feelings, coz it isn't so important she will have a good time, as long as he's squirted all over the place (of course he would never put the sheets into the washing machine, he wouldn't even know where the latter is). as long as he's not offering the regular trip to tiffy's or puts a merc in front of your door, he must be dreaming and should be given the phone number of a local brothel to do his business at.
the list is endless, but I can't be arsed to write more right now. heh.
one day, my prince will come. he won't be riding along on a horse, but I'll ride his pony alright.
*chuckles*
so, let's see where it all fits in, shall we?
Mr. Runs-away
known to tease, but when it's time to throw the cards on the table, he'll chicken out and runs as if the house is on fire. shoot the start-gun and take his time when he runs the 100 metres.
Mr. oh-my-god-you-scare-me
known to be a bigger pussy than the ones the girls he annoys have in their pants. he'll chat you up because he has nothing better to do and when it's time to get to business, he'll start whining like the 5-year-old he really is, demanding for his mummy. immediately. give him a security blanket and send him home.
Mr. whoops-I-forgot-to-tell-you-but-I'm-really-already-married
has had a bit of amnesia. he plainly forgets to tell his object of desire that he's already coupled up after having wasted a considerable amount of your time. a tell-tale sign is him telling you he has actually had proper cooked food at home or wears clean ironed clothing. get in contact with her-indoors and then lean back to enjoy the show, if so inclined.
Mr. You're-not-a-proper-woman
that one's really funny. you can double-check your XX-chromosomes as much as you like, point out you do have something in the way of a pussy and tits and have menstruated before, but he won't believe any of it, because you don't fit into his target-group for whatever reasons he is likely to make up to make you feel a dope. take a pair of scissors and turn him into a non-proper woman, too and then see how he takes that.
Mr. I've-decided-for-something/someone-else
is someone who'll stand in line at MickyD's for 20 minutes without the ability to choose his burger. He'll change his opinion about sod-all every 5 minutes and your time will be wasted. He'll keep you hanging in the air he clears off oxygen, making you believe he'll know in a minute or two. get out before you notice you're suddenly 42 and you've wasted the past 8 years of your life with someone like that.
Mr. I-want-things-done-exactly-like-my-mammy-did
is someone who thinks they're all cunts apart from his good old mammy. he will go crazy if his undies ain't ironed, the food isn't oversalted, the pasta ain't lumpy and you don't mommy him around 24/7, cooing at him when he has a life-threatening cold or packing him a work-lunch. that one doesn't look for a partner, he only wants to do his mother. send him packing, you don't need another woman's child.
Mr. I'm-too-cheap-to-pay-for-a-prostitute
is someone who thinks, since he's buying you a drink when you go out, he'll get some should you go home with him. he doesn't want sex, he wants the friggin' olympics. trying to go through the kama sutra in just one night, while not giving a fly's shit about you or your feelings, coz it isn't so important she will have a good time, as long as he's squirted all over the place (of course he would never put the sheets into the washing machine, he wouldn't even know where the latter is). as long as he's not offering the regular trip to tiffy's or puts a merc in front of your door, he must be dreaming and should be given the phone number of a local brothel to do his business at.
the list is endless, but I can't be arsed to write more right now. heh.
one day, my prince will come. he won't be riding along on a horse, but I'll ride his pony alright.
posted by daria l'orange at 5:03 pm
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home