Tag Archives: relationships

A glass of wine helps the medicine go down

5 Aug

I’m not great at dismissing suitors.  Giving the “we are better off as friends” speech is like sniffing a petting zoo floor. Thus, I’ve found thousands of alternatives to giving the guy the boot.  My favorite being ignoring his every attempt to contact me. That is about as clear cut as an answer can be.  I’m not playing “hard to get”.  I’m playing “getting is no longer an option.”

So, I’ve always considered myself to be pretty straightforward when it comes to relationships.  But who’s to say what constitutes as playing games?

Well, here’s the back story.

Recently, I went on a date with a new guy.  Things went well and he suggested we go out again the very next day.  I agreed.  The second date involved a couple drinks.  He was already calling me pet names.  We even went to my best friend Bakers house, where he proceeded to do magic tricks.  I was not impressed.  I don’t care if you know what card I picked. Unless you can make problems disappear, you can keep your cape in the closet and the wand in your pants. But, at the end of the night I had a sweet buzz. We talked about going to see a movie the following day. When I woke up I was feeling less than enthusiastic.  Not because I didn’t like him, but because hangovers tend to have that effect.  He had sent me a good morning text and I responded. I had a missed call from him later that day when I was trying to nap off my headache.   I checked my phone again and he sent a text asking if we should reschedule.  I told him that would be best and I hoped it wasn’t a problem.  I honestly was relieved because I felt 3 dates in 3 days was a bit much, yet I still felt a twinge of guilt as if I was bailing on him last minute.  He came by my work the following day to see how I was feeling. In his defense he really was in the neighborhood. He has made it abundantly clear that he likes me.  In fact, to describe him as eager would be an understatement.  Midweek he invites me to dinner on Friday night.

Friday night he bails and reschedules for Saturday night.  Saturday night he bails because he is working late.  Excuse me.  Last weekend you were obsessed with me.  I rescheduled one date, for sound reasons.

I’m 27 minutes sober and extremely irritable.

What the hell? Why aren’t you obsessed with me this weekend? Does he think he is giving me a taste of my own medicine? Because, believe this, he is medicating the wrong person.  If he wants to play hospital, I hope he knows how to operate.

And to make matters worse, I find him much more appealing now that he isn’t treating me like the queen that I am.

Shit, I think I just got doctored.  Does any one else keep wine in their medicine cabinet?

Let your freak flag fly!

29 May

For any of you that have dabbled in online dating, you already know that trying to find your soul mate on the world wide web is like trying to build a hurricane shelter out of Lego’s.

Times are changing though. More and more people are using the internet to find love, sex, or whatever other kind of top secret, creepy shit they are into.  Online dating has great potential to actually become what it already claims to be.  But there are still a ton of kinks that need to be worked out.

As I said in part one, Entering the Gates of Freak City, I let my friend, Baker sign me up for one of these sites while I was under the influence of some cheap wine.

Well, the entrance fee to freak city was at the very affordable price of my dignity.  SOLD to the lowest bidder! Who needs dignity anyway? It’s like that annoying cricket bitching in my ear, slow down, stop and think, you’re embarrassing yourself.  Oh, shut the hell up Jiminy. I got this.

In order to start meeting people in this clown palace, you have to fill out your profile.  Baker uploaded my most flattering photo’s and then began to fill out the “About Me” section.  This was her opener:  “If you like to party, then you will like me!”

She obviously knows way too much of my history to be writing this section. Everyone else had written self praising novels about their lives. I tell her to add that I am a college graduate and have, like, hobbies and stuff.   The section ended up being three sentences. Whatever.  I’m too drunk to care at this point.

It wasn’t long before all kinds of crazies were messaging me.  I won’t bore you with the normal people, because though they are rare, they actually do exist.  But I always found a flaw with them. It would be nonsensical for me to date someone who might actually be good for me.  Besides, healthy relationships are dull.

This site had a spiffy feature where you can view who added you to their favorites list. And lo and behold! Someone added me as their favorite. Sweet! Lets check this sexy beast out.

Hmmm.  It’s a very thin, short, 50-year-old, black man.

And he is wearing a do-rag, taking a “selfie” picture in a broken mirror in what looks to be a shanty town.  I shit you not.

My first thought was “how does he afford the membership fees to this site?”

I click to the next picture because let’s be real, he’s got my attention. The second picture is similar to the first except this one has the added bonus of pigeons surrounding him. WTF? It looks like some sort of fucked up family photo.  The third picture is just of the pigeons, huddled around shards of glass and cardboard.  He can’t be serious. He lives in shanty town with pigeons.  PIGEONS! Ya know? Like shitty doves!  This might be normal in some parts of the world but this is Florida.  I think I’m going to keep my options open and see who else is out there.

I exchanged a few emails with another guy. He seemed normal at first.  Until he started asking me why I hadn’t deleted my account yet. I asked him what he meant. He said “It shows that you logged in this morning. Why are you still on that site when you are talking to me? You need to delete it.”

Excuse me? RED FLAG. A couple of conversations and he is already claiming me as his own and forbidding me from talking to any one else.  Listen pal, I happen to work as Domestic Violence counselor (shocker, right?) and you clearly have issues.  I told him I found someone better looking to talk to.  Then he swore at me a few times. Well, that guy is out of the running.

I asked one user if he had a Facebook and if I could add him.  He said yes as long as I didn’t mind being bombarded with photos of him and his fiancée.

The next dudes username is BillyBob.  I should have known I already had a winner on my hands. But his pictures were cute and he started out nice with the traditional pleasantries. Then things took a turn for the worse.  He told me he was an ass man. Uhm, okay, I didn’t ask but thanks for the heads up. Then, he asked me if I had a dirty butt.

Just one of the glories of online dating. Apparently he had some sort of swamp ass fetish. Who knows? I didn’t bother to ask.  I just wanted to get me and my clean butt out of that conversation.  And that’s probably my cue to depart from Freak City and go back to regular dating. With people who wipe.

The anonymity of the internet can work in disturbing ways.  Ugly people pretend to be pretty people.  Losers pretend to be cool.  And freaks suck you into their freakdom by pretending to be normal.

Did he just call me an asshole?

28 Apr

I can be a real bitch sometimes. But if you’ve read any of my writing then you already knew that.  Writing about how I feel in my own personal blog isn’t what makes me a bitch though.  I may sound like a bitch or an asshole but it’s not that observable in everyday life.  I like to think I have common decency.

But besides that, it got me thinking about the first time I was sincerely told I was acting like an asshole.  Believe it or not, it was only about two years ago.

I met a guy through a mutual friend and was instantly attracted to him.  Blue eyes, blond hair, nice build –you know the type.  We can call him Johnny. Johnny was hot but also unavailable. Fuck. I may be a bitch, but I am not a home wrecker.

After troubling circumstances with a guy I was currently dating, my friends and I went to one of our favorite bars for a girls night out.  I have never been a big fan of girls only night, probably because I am a big fan of hot men. But whatever. I have great girlfriends and we already have our buzz on so we arrive at the bar feeling quite chipper.

I’m ordering a drink and who do I run into?  That answer is obvious.

Girl time will have to wait.

I’m drunk, newly alone and hungry for male attention.   My goal was to find a rebound boy. But Johnny was the last person I expected to see there. I hadn’t seen him in over a year.   He approaches me. He tells me how great I look. We talk.  He is single now.

According to them, my girlfriends are sitting at the table watching us from across the room.  They pretend like my love life is a wildlife mating documentary and begin commenting on our body language and what our next moves will be.  The show would be appropriately named Bitch on the Prowl.  They predict my signature hair flip.  This signifies that I am going in for the kill.

Johnny and I exchange numbers.  The bartender is making last call. We realize we are the last ones in the place, my friends are waiting for me in the car. We kiss goodbye. I’m pretty satisfied with myself. I did good.

The next day he calls me and invites me over. I decline. The day after that he calls me and invites me over.  I accept.

I get to his house and am blown away by the immaculate and pristine accommodations. I knew he was hot, but dang, he must have money, too.  Not to mention, I am greeted by the cutest puppy in the whole world.  I think it was an American Bulldog, but I’m not a fucking dog specialist and I already had a few drinks to calm my nerves, so it could have been a miniature pony for all I know.

He asks if I want to go to a local bar and meet up with his friends to play some pool.  As I mentioned earlier, I was still hung up on another guy.  My sole intention was to use Johnny as a coping mechanism and to forget about my recent failure at love.   Looking back, I think I was a tad more drunk than I realized and I slightly regret this decision.  Here’s a good-looking guy who wants to take me out and introduce me to his friends, and what do I do?  I avoid it at all costs. Go out in public? Meet his friends? I’m not ready for that kind of commitment.   I insist that we stay at his house and “watch a movie”.  I am destined to die alone.

Then he says he just got home from work and wants to take a quick shower.  Good, shower it up. I like a clean man. So, while he is in the bathroom washing his balls, I am sipping a beer and canoodling with the pup on his bed.  He comes out of the shower in basketball shorts and lays down next to me. We start flipping through the channels looking for something to watch when we start kissing.

Everything is going great.  Foreplay has begun.

I’ll spare you the details.  To my surprise a few minutes into it, he finishes.  He sighs and grunts his satisfaction.  He gets up to go to the bathroom. I ask him through a closed door “is that it?”.  No response.  For the love of fornication! I still have my pants on!

Moments later he comes back out and lies on the bed next to me.  I think he can see the disappointment seeping out my pores.  I looked like a fat 8 year-old who just dropped their ice cream cone.

I look at him too, he looks discouraged.  I ask him whats wrong.  He says and I quote “we took things too fast.” In my mind I’m thinking, no! YOU took things too fast! I did everything right, apparently too right!   But instead I blurt out “Why? It’s not like we are going to start dating or anything.”  His face went blank, and then quickly transformed into rhino stampeding pissed when he said “that’s the SECOND ASSHOLE THING YOU’VE SAID TONIGHT!” I blushed and gave him a confused face and gently asked “what was the first?”  

He  stormed into the bathroom again. Maybe I should just haul the mattress in there. Seriously, talk about a role reversal.  Some people just don’t understand the concept of reboundism.

I waited a few minutes and then yelled to him “I guess I’ll let myself out!” I think he could hear me arguing with the dog because he came out and was like “you’re leaving?”.  As much as I enjoy getting called an asshole and watching you lock yourself in the bathroom, the party has to end some time.  “I have to get up for work early tomorrow.”

He opens his front door and the puppy escapes and starts following me.  He SCREAMS for the puppy to come back.  The puppy does not respond well to commands. Or threats. I am scared for the puppy.  I’m standing at my car door and Johnny has to physically come retrieve the puppy to prevent it from jumping into my car.

The night ended in a fashion that I like to call fucking awkward.

Entering the Gates of Freak City

25 Apr

Breaking up is super fucking lame but sometimes it is inevitable.  I knew the end was coming. I was just getting way too nice, floating up there in happy love land.  Earth called, they wanted their bitch back.

You might be thinking I’m going to start rambling about my shattered dreams and how terrible single life is.  Not quite. I was bummed out, sure. But bitches always land on their feet.

Plus, wine is like superglue for a broken heart.

I am not single, I am independent.  The people with the best success rate of staying together, are people who know how to be alone. Dependency isn’t just a problem for drug addicts.

But that’s enough pep talk.

My best friend thought it would be funny to sign me up for a dating site.  I finished off the bottle of wine and agreed.

Honestly, this membership was a one way ticket to freak city.  And great ranting material.

This was the first guys selling point: ”I regularly prepare gourmet meals at home, for me and my dogs.”  Does that strike anybody else as odd?

First off, ten pictures of you with your dog does not make me believe that you’re a kind, animal loving, trustworthy guy.  It makes me believe that you have no friends. And it becomes a serious disadvantage when the dog has better teeth.

Secondly, I like a man who knows how to cook. I do not need a man who knows how to cook. I don’t want your first message to me to read: “I am cooking a really nice chicken, thai, hot, curry, with onions and spices etc,,,”.  Do I look hungry? Good for you! Cook it alone, eat it alone. Enjoy your burning hot, curry diarrhea that you will ultimately face in the morning alone too.  I’m perfectly happy with my frozen pizza.

More great lines from my potential suitors:

“I enjoy long, romantic walks to the refrigerator.”  Was this supposed to be funny? It might have been if you weren’t 200 lbs overweight.  And by the way, 200 lbs does not qualify as a “Few extra pounds”.

“Things like a pepsi or a bag of pistachios really make my day.”  I, too, enjoy the simple pleasures in life but at some point you have to raise your standards.

“Hey there young lady.”  I don’t want to date anybody that calls me young lady. I don’t have daddy issues. My issues lie with you and your 60 year old audacity.   “I do have kids, but don’t worry, they are all over 18.”  Oh, well that changes everything! I feel so much better knowing that you just have a couple 4o year olds running around.

There was one guy who actually seemed like he might make the cut.  Until, I noticed he had really small, feminine hands.  I know this may sound crazy on my part, but dating a guy with small hands totally creeps me out.  It’s like being felt up by a child. eek!

I am only at the gates of freak city. My exploration into online dating is just beginning. Stay tuned, people. Things are about to get interesting.

Desperate Download

2 Oct

Are you a pathetic loser who sucks at dating? Do you often find yourself at home on a Friday night, crying into your ice cream while wondering when Prince Charming is going to save you from the shit-breathing dragon that is your life?  Do the employees at your local Vibrators’R’Us know you by name?  Think of all the money you would save on batteries if you could just get a man in your life.

What’s that you say? You can’t get a boyfriend? Well, I’ve got news for you.  There’s an app for that!

Quit uploading new photo’s on your match.com profile.  With the use of this app, your longtime crush will be uploading his dick in your ass in no time!

I’ll share a few tips with you because I am a wonderful friend, and this is what the world has come to.

photo 1

Tip #1

photo 4

If he smiles back, it means he either likes you or he doesn’t.   Notice his face movements. If he cocks his eyebrows, he thinks you’re fucking weird.  If his nostrils flare, he thinks you fucking reek.  Take a shower for heavens sake.  If he closes his eyes, he thinks you are ugly but is contemplating letting you blow him because it is a known fact that ugly girls give great head.

Tip #2.

photo 7

AN OBVIOUS TIP.  Put a bag over your head.

Tip #3.

photo 8

And by putting your arm around his neck I mean, put your lips around his dick. She did say make him happy, at least as much as you can. Because you’re probably a loser.

Tip #4.

photo 9

If you’re not what society has deemed to be beautiful, find out if he likes dimples. If he doesn’t, VOILA!  You’re on your own.  Probably for the rest of your life.

Tip #5.

photo 10

Do NOT kiss with braces! You will get cut, and die! Some boys might be into it, but God sees it as a big NO NO.

Tip #6.

photo 11

Be as picky as possible.  If he doesn’t meet every trait on your list, forget him.  After all, you’re perfect, right?

*If he is good looking, respect for other peoples feelings is not required.

This app could be filed under the category ‘Useless’.

Tip #6.

photo 12

If you don’t have the nerve to approach a guy who has caught your eye, consider being his stalker.  Start by stalking his facebook photos until you find one where you can Photoshop your face next to his.  Break into his bedroom window and leave the picture on his pillow to let him know you are interested.

Tip #7.

photo 5

Go overboard? I’m pretty sure downloading this app was rock bottom.

Tip #8.

Do not use any of the tips listed above.

The reviews raved about this app.  One girl said that it only took the use of one of these tips to find her boyfriend.  I’m pretty confident it was tip #3.

How serious is serious?

27 Apr

Have you ever liked somebody up until you realized the feeling was mutual?  It happens to me all the time.  I guess I just want what I can’t have. I thought it was a phase but I’m beginning to think I have a fear of commitment.

I consider my current relationship status to be friends with benefits.  But lately I get the feeling it’s progressing into something more.  The reasons are as follows:

1. Daily text messages.

He texts me to ask me how my day is going.  Since when does anybody give a fuck about my day?

2. Was that a date?

He invited me to go out to eat.  So, that afternoon I stopped by the drug store. I spent twenty minutes comparing razors.  The pharmacist kept looking at me like I might be illiterate. That, or I was contemplating on stealing it.  I splurged on the expensive one.  BOOYAH Pharmacist! I’m pretty sure I paid an extra $10.00 because it was pink. And I even bought an electric shaver also.  I was curious. Don’t judge me. Of course, I go to use it and the piece of shit doesn’t have any fucking batteries in it.  Maybe they should have put ‘buy your own damn batteries’ on the package.  I had to rummage through every piece of electronics in my house to find 2 triple A batteries.  Why the fuck doesn’t it take double A batteries like everything else in the world? Anyway, I digress.  The point is, I obviously felt that this night was special for some reason.  He paid for dinner and made sure to open the doors and all that jazz.  If it shaves like a date, pays like a date, and kisses like a date, is it a date?

3. Spending the night.

Most guys can’t wait to give their booty call the boot when the business transaction is complete. And if you want to cuddle you’re better off going to Build-a-Bear Workshop. I wish they had Build-a-Man Workshop.  They have Build-a-Bitch Workshop, it’s called a relationship (no wonder I’m single).  When the deed was done I’d gather my shit (Dignity not included. See what I did there razor company?) and be on my happy hoe way.  I actually like sleeping in my own clean sheets.  But now he offers that I spend the night.  I know the physical acts we just committed are considered to be one of the most intimate things two people can do together, but I feel like waking up next to each other is a whole new level of closeness.

4. Using his facilities.

He invites me over to watch a movie when I get off work.  He says that I can just bring a clean pair of clothes and shower at his house.  I told my friend this to see what kind of response it would illicit. She replied “You can’t shower at his house! There’s no way he will have good shampoo!” Plus my long locks need conditioner.  I think that’s a pretty valid concern.  I’ll never forget the day I woke up with a hangover at a male friends house. I had to shower before class so I didn’t smell like a hooker on a 3 day alcohol binge.  I was forced to use anti-dandruff shampoo for men, old spice deodorant, and I wore the same clothes I passed out in.  Then I walked into class smelling like a spicy man with a dandruff problem and my friend looks at me and says “have you seen your neck?”  It’s safe to say that was rock bottom but I think I deserve some credit for at least making it to class.  I continue to digress.  I feel like using his shower and shampoo is like domesticating our relationship.  It’s like sharing toothpaste. It’s like playing house.  It’s like committing to maybe, possibly, showering there on a regular basis.  But hey, maybe he just wants me to be clean for the post movie activities.

I’m not going to jump to any conclusions.  I’m probably over analyzing.  I just like to know what everyone is thinking and why they do certain things.  Hidden meanings are so aggravating.

It’s like my  motto, say what you mean, mean what you say, and say something mean.

Alexander Graham Bell, this is your fault.

5 Apr

It dates back to the prehistoric times of the Caveman.  The males approach to women doesn’t seem to have changed that much.  The caveman knew how to sweep a woman off her feet — beat her over the head until she falls flat on her back.

I know that men were put on this earth to create chaos in a womans mind.  I don’t understand it, but I’ve come to accept it — only because I have to.  We’re lucky if they change their underwear let-alone change their strategies of attracting women.  Here we are in the year 2012, and men still believe the best way to get a lady back to his cave is by messing with her head.  The only thing that’s changed is that now women beat their own heads against the wall.

Like men weren’t confusing enough, Mr. Alexander Graham Bell had to go and put hot sauce on a jalapeno and invent the telephone.  Which leads me to the topic of my post and the burning question, will he call?

This should be a very simple question to answer.  If he says he will call, then yes, he will.  But that wouldn’t get us to beat our heads against the wall, now would it? So, they’ve made it into an impossible guessing game because every case is different.

Classmate Example A:

Run into classmate at a bar:

“Hey, can I have your number? We should catch a movie tomorrow night.”

“Sure, that sounds great.”

He doesn’t call.  I bet he was really tired from staying out late last night.

I see him again in class and he continues to talk to me, but for embarrassments sake I do not ask why he bailed the other night. After all, it wasn’t set in stone and I don’t want to seem like a clinger. and then:

“What are you doing later tonight? Lets get together, I’ll hit you up.”

“Okay, I’m down.”

Is my phone on silent? I bet his phone ran out of battery.  Is my phone out of battery? He’s said he would be home, he should have a charger.  Maybe he isn’t getting service.  Am I getting service? I don’t even know if I like him. Why am I so worried about his call? I just don’t understand why he would initiate hanging out with me only to leave me hanging…alone. Just shut up. I need to just shut up.

The next time I’m walking out to my car, staring at the ground in a daze, only to look up and see him in his car waiting to talk to me.

“Hey, what class did you have today?  What are you doing later? We should go to the beach or something.”

“Yeah, just let me know.”

Oh, no. I feel it. My brain is going into over-drive-over-analyze mode again.

I don’t think our phones can connect for some reason.  I bet he found some other girl to go to the beach with. Why is he doing this to me? Do I deserve this? I bet this is karma for all those fake numbers I gave out. FML. Why does he act like he’s interested and then pretend to do something about it?  I knew I shouldn’t have worn these jeans today.  They make my ass look huge. What a fucking dickbrick.  I hope he knows how to use his dick better than he knows how to use a phone.   Fuck you and fuck Alexander Graham Bell.

That’s where Classmate Example A ends for now.

Let’s continue.

Random guy at a bar Example B:

Run into a friend at a bar who introduces me to Example B.  We hit it off and have a great time.  The night ends around 4 AM with a drunken, short, good night kiss.

“Can I get your number?”

“DLFKAJS;LF yes alajdfas;lij”

I know I said yes, but like I said– 4 AM – BAR– I’m lucky I remember the little that I do.  Besides, that fuckers never going to call.

Next day:

“I wanted to know if you’d like to come watch a movie at my house tonight?”

“Yes.”

Well, the movie, ahem, went well. We share another kiss goodbye and I leave.

Why didn’t he mention calling me again? I am so stupid.  I have no self control. He doesn’t want to buy the cow. Fucking bastard motherfucker.

Next morning text:

“Good morning, How are you?”

Texts me all day. WTF. The guy who never mentions calling is the one who calls. The one who goes out of his way to say he will call me is the one who doesn’t.

That just goes to show you how fucked up the male psyche is.

I really need end this post because I think my head is bleeding.

No, I can’t hear you now. But Call me, maybe?

This song is so catchy.

It finally happened.

4 Apr

My partner in crime sent this to me.   Apparently the evil bitch has her own show.

The evil bitch has her own show.

The day has come, folks.   I finally managed to make the evil bitch a deleted scene in the movie I call life. And let me tell you, it feels like a brothel house has been lifted off my shoulders.

She still had some of my belongings and I had one of her bags. So, we needed to make a trade.  If she didn’t return my things I was going to have her ex boyfriend take a dump in her bag and leave it on her car with a note reading “here’s your shit back.”    I thought it fitting after all the shit she has given me.

We still have some mutual friends which is unfortunate.  But, that’s only because she is clinging to them like glitter to a stripper. I predict things getting better and better though.

 

Go away, Bitch.

 

Truth of the past.

20 Mar

It's not my fault your life sucks.

(2007) Sometimes, I wonder how stupid someone has to be before officially being declared retarded. But maybe it’s not stupidity, maybe it’s some other obnoxious mental condition. Why is it always the hated people that say it’s not important to have a good rapport with those you work with? I find it funny that a grown man can stoop so low as to talk trash about me to my friend. Are you that incredibly moronic and depressed about your life that you have to pick on an innocent girl? Apparently, yes. I’m sorry you’re jealous of the good relationships I have with our coworkers. I’m sorry you think I turned everyone against you, even though you clearly did that yourself. I’m sorry you’re going bald and had to marry your wife because you had already knocked her up.

How to mind your own boring business. Part One.

27 Feb

I think we have all heard the advice  “write about what you know.”  Well, I’d like to know why the advice “talk about what you know” never caught on.

We are all guilty of irresistibly sticking our noses where they don’t belong.  As human beings it is only natural for us to be curious about what others are doing.  But most of us manage to not make a habit out of it.

Other people, however, have nothing better to do than contribute to the spread of biased and inaccurate information.  In simple terms,  they like DRAMA. And some people seem to thrive on it.

So I’m going to be direct:

I’m sorry to hear that your life is so mundane that you have to meddle in mine. I really am.

Ha! Actually, no, I’m not. That’s your own fault.

It must be hard to be nothing but a walking vagina without a wisp of an original thought happening upstairs. You should probably get a boob job.  Maybe the attention will help raise your self-esteem.  Although, it shouldn’t. Because they are only interested in your sexual objectification.  You are still as uninteresting as you were yesterday; and a little less annoying than you will be tomorrow.  But at least what you lack in mental capacity you can make up for in cleavage.

There is more silver lining.  You can finally prove me wrong when I said it would be utterly impossible for you to become any more fake. Bravo! You’ve defied the laws of superficiality.

So, I have taken the liberty of noting a few simple steps to start you on your recovery of gossip whoring.

Stop Facebook stalking.
– Facebook is, without a doubt, an abundant source of information and a stealthy way to sneak a peek into people’s private lives. But some people turn it into the Never Ending Story. They stare at Facebook for hours on end just waiting to spread negativity. They hope to catch a glimpse of embarrassing photos soon to be untagged. They wish to read slandering statuses aimed towards their peers. They laugh at the facebook user whose relationship status just changed to single. Then they send out gossip alerts to all their friends. If you’re not involved, stay out of it. And If you’re going to be responsible for passing along crude information at least be sure you have your facts straight; which you don’t, because the fact is, it is none of your business.

If it was your business you wouldn’t be putting the information on blast.

Stop talking about people you don’t know.
-You don’t even know their name. Clearly, you have no association with this person, and unless they plan to pass a new anti-internet-stalking bill, their actions do not affect your life. After all, you would have to have a life for it to be affected.  Not to mention, if you don’t know the person, it is probably old news; you are rehashing the past that the gossip victim would just like to move on from.

Don’t add people on facebook you don’t know, either.  A friend of mine does not make them a friend of yours.  It makes you a stalker.

People do weird things.
This is a major one. Once you learn to accept this you will find that what was once so juicy is not all that uncommon.  In fact, I’m sure you can think of at least one time when you negatively viewed someone because of something they did, only to remember that you once did something very similar.  The point is, if you spread these types of stories it’s bound to cause unjust judgement on those involved. Your distorted and limited knowledge of the subject makes you reek of elementary drama. People have all kinds of reasons for their actions, albeit some crazier than others.  But no matter how moronic, jaw-dropping, or tragic it is, it is still not your business. Let people live their lives.

You should probably search for a career in reality tv, because that’s as close to a real life as you’re going to get.

Do me a favor and don’t open your mouth unless you’re shoveling your feelings into it.

facebook stalking

Facebook or Stalkbook?

To be Continued…