Ah, what a weight you suffer under, being sufficiently attractive that men are always bothering you.
The poor dyslexic bastard probably takes 15 minutes to screw up his courage every time he calls or sends email. My advice: set a date to meet him in Union Square, show up with a can of gasoline and a zippo, and put the interpersonally inept imbecile out of his misery.
Ah it is. Thanks for your empathy.
Good idea. Unfortunately I shan't be able to try that method since I am a vegetarian.
do you even remember meeting this guy or were you too drunk at the time to remember now?
Given the enthusiasm and regularity of your boasts of drunken promiscuity, I would think bringing a relationship to a climax via bonfire would be less of an affront to vegetarianism than your usual method.
I've always thought of "promiscuity" as the kind of word used by prissy-mouthed bitches. Say it out loud, put a little lisp on the 'scu' doesn't it make you feel like Dana Carvey in a bad wig?
Ali Z - yeah this is the guy who tried to feed me cheese.
Sterling - this was never a relationship. I was drunk and some one asked for my card and I gave it to him. I never spoke more than 10 words to him and he has called numerous times. There's really nothing to ignite. I need to stop giving out cards.
Sigh. Oh, well. I was thinking we could notify all the photobloggers in advance - maybe run a whole gallery show off this one guy going up in flames, like that monk in Vietnam. He'd become the heavenly patron of poorly-written pickup email: "The Immolation of St. Loser".
For the record, I've never tried to feed Maccers cheese. Poached salmon, on the other hand...
Seeing as my friend The Cleaner and I alternate between fantasizing about self-immolation and self-defenestration, I for one volunteer to be your personal human barbecue victim at such time as you decide to taste meat again.
Never say that again. No, really.
maccers doesn't eat, this commenting thread is moot.
Forget that guy. You should go out on a date with me, Pornpundit.
I thought I had?
No, you just slept with him, Maccers.
That's NOT a date, remember? We've discussed this before. You need to face up to your reality.
So that's what "dating" means. Thank you.
What is this reality of which you speak?
Dear M,
I, too, remember you from random bar that I will not be going back to. How are you doing despite the lack of personality and intelligence? The nice part about meeting you is that I know that we will meet never again because I plan to avoid you like anthrax. In light of your continued communication, I have decided to close my con ed acct and work by candle light.
If this is not a clear enough hint, then I would suggest that you try to reach me by climbing Mt. Washington and sending smoke signals. I'm sure that I will respond in the same manner I did to your voicemails. Meanwhile you will have to save your stimulating conversation for someone else [who for their sake I hope is deaf and dumb.] May your cup stay full of something wonderfully debilitating...
Love
Maccers
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