Jen
Guys like me for my looks, and I like them for their brains. Now if only I could find a few in the latter category, the world would be a perfect place. A friend of mine once said, aptly put, "We sure have a way of plowing through men." You know, I wouldn't have to till the fields so frequently if any of the crop was edible. Yeesh.
The core of my Heartless Bitchiness comes from dozens of men whose egos were bigger than their dicks. I'm not impressed by your car. No, I don't care who your father is. And please stop attempting to look interested in what I have to say, especially when I know what's running through your head is the advice your father gave you on how to get a girl into bed on the first date.
I'm not a man-hater, by any means. I'm just looking for signs of intelligent life in the male form, and thus far my search has been rather uneventful. The same goes for women. I don't care what you look like, but if you throw yourself mercilessly -- and shamelessly -- at the opposite sex, don't come knocking on my door for respect. Think again, sister. You're more than a shell, more than a bedroom toy, and much more than some guy's arm candy. So wise up or incur the insults from my acrid tongue.
Yes! I want to read more from Real Life Heartless Bitches
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