Why I Still Voluntarily Leave Home, I Couldn't Fucking Tell You...
It's a testament to the fact that I'm a fucking knucklehead.
There are times when, against my better judgment, I venture out into public. It never fails, though, people bring the dumb shit and make me sit through everything after the first 5 minutes in full regret of the decision I have made.
Case in point, of course, today.
I allowed myself to be talked into visiting one of the local spots and let me give you the rundown briefly.
I fucking hated it. And here’s why:
Off rip, approached even though I’m nearly wearing a tee that reads “unapproachable”. Y’all know my face. Yes, the Bitchface. That’s exactly what I was wearing.
Then, some time later, probably I dunno, a minute and a half but it felt like an hour, I’m rolling my eyes without any concern that I’m going to come off as a bitch, because I am and I don’t care if some random dude trying to hump my leg knows it.
Dude, yes, you may have a job and a car, but that doesn’t make you the fucking vagina messiah, handing out dinner at Chili’s like a grown-ass woman isn’t going to tell you you’re a basic, and barely that, type of dude. You’re literally doing the bare minimum.
Call your momma, get her to pat you on the back for your kindergarten-ass effort. I’m scuffing the bottoms of a pair of Louboutins sitting here tapping my toe because you’re making my anxiety act up, way too close to me and talking too much.
So, twenty minutes into me looking bored because I am and having little to no fun, I scamper off to add music to this as I like to have a soundtrack for the worst times I’ve ever had.
I am only going to venture a guess that standing at the jukebox is international code for “try to come play grab-ass with me because I’m standing”.
As it turns out, that’s international code for “I will break your whole arm off of your fucking body” to me.
So, where were we? 25 minutes in. Mother of Christ. If only I had some sort of escape…some place I could be anywhere but in the middle of a bunch of Bozos who think it’s a compliment to tell me I have beautiful eyes but they’ve literally only stared at my tits for the past minute and a half. I know. I timed it.
So, I did what any self-respecting woman would do which is hit the bathroom, lock myself in a stall and text my homegirl that I’m going home so meet me in the parking lot or call me later.
Thank God, divine intervention happened, and an Uber was 2 minutes away. I felt like all of my fountain coins culminated in this one wish coming true as I slipped out through the side door.
As an aside, the Uber driver was an amazing person and we had great conversation the entire way home. Now, where was this dude when Kyle, the manager at Rack Room, was trying to sit way too fucking close to me.
Right, toting women like myself out of the bullshit. And safely, as I noted in the survey right after I tipped him.
Let’s never, ever fucking do this again. Ever.
Sometimes “the last time” just hits you over the head 🤣🤣🤣 There’s better entertainments. Brava, ‘cause it didn’t take you another decade of “trying to have a good time” the same old way.
I leave them utterly humiliated and praying for death. I’m even wearing a wedding band, for fuck’s sake