It happens. You meet someone, you hang out a few times, you make-out like bandits....hell, you may even sleep together (though likely there is very little sleep involved....more on that later). And then...well....you just lose interest. It might have been the completely horrible sex....it might be the fact that they are 31 and still live with their parents....a 5 year plan to buy a house (what the hell...is he paying CASH for this house???) or maybe they talk so slowly that you compulsively finish their sentence for them because to listen to thhhheeemmm drawwwww owwwt the sennnntennnnccccce willlllll killllllll youuuuuuuuuuuu.
And you simply don't call. You'd rather burry your head in the sand ala Ostrich rather than deal with reality. Which is this. The person, no matter where they live, no matter how bad the sex, no matter how slowly he talks....deserves to know that they don't jive with what you have in mind.
You don't have to be mean, condescending or rude. What you do have to be is honest and real.
Ok....this sounds like great advice right? Sure it is. I'm a huge advocate for this. Too bad it's more along the lines of "Do as I say not as I do".
I am in FULL ON Ostrich mode with a guy whom I will name James to protect his real identity. 31 yr old tradesman who still lives with Mummy and Daddy so that one day he can pay cash for a house wayyyy out in the burbs. And let's be clear here...when I say wayyyy out in the burbs I actually mean ButtFuckNoWhere BC. It can't even be considered part of the GVRD. His nearest neighbour would be a cow....and I'm not talkin' smack talk about a woman here. I mean litterally a Moo Cow. Mooooooooo.
Thank god for Call Display. Thank goodness Mummy and Daddy live out in Slurrey so that he doesn't have ocasion to come downtown much. I have no idea why it is so hard for me to tell him "James...you're a fabulous kisser, but it's just not in the cards for us. Instead of a Full House all I see is a Royal Flush".
To be clear here...I have another dude I'm currently avoiding. Though I suspect that the feeling is mutual...however without that clarity...well...it's best to get comfy in the sand.
This guy's name is Andrew. Now....despite the fact that ol' Andrew is nearly as witty as I am, depsite his salt and pepper hair belying his 35yrs (though really he's going grey far too soon), and despite that he is mildly talented with kissing....the sex with Andrew was so bad...well...there aren't enough words in all the dictionaries or thesauri in the world to properly describe it.
I can already forsee an entire entry on bad bad leroy brown sex. But right now we're talking about Ostrichs.
I have no idea why I can't seem to just tell the guys...look..you're not my cup of tea...I prefer coffee.
*sigh* if I burry my head long enough eventually they will go away. That, however, doesn't prevent the build up of sand in my ears!
This clearly isn't my best work.,...I'm distracted. I keep thinking about something I once wrote down but can't seem to find.
I'm going to post this trite, rough, nearly scabby writting anyway. I'll think about something with a little more depth soon I promise.
Cheers
Kwerkie
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