J, Ruminations

J: Life updates and shit

Hey boo thangs! Did ya miss me?

…did ya even notice I was gone?

…no? Ok. Cool. Whatever. Doesn’t bother me. Not one bit.

What?? No, of course I’m not crying! That’s just some… dirt! Dirt in my eye. Yep, that’s it.


The truth is, I haven’t been on a single date since before Labor Day Weekend. I’ve been out, like, meeting guys in person? Idk. It’s weird. But effective. Especially because I’m super modest and charming and stuff in person. Take this conversation I had with a 40-year-old man last night, for example:
Man: You’re like, super pretty. Can I buy you a drink?
J: Aww, thank you so much!
M: Seriously, have you done any modeling??
J: *thinks back to the one time I was eating McDonalds on the Lincoln Memorial steps and a tourist took a picture of me*
J: Yes, in fact, I have.

What they don’t know won’t hurt them.


Anyway, here’s what life has looked like lately:

Beans still won’t pay me for tacos. Still! And, to make it worse, I woke up this morning to a Venmo request from HIM:


What survey, Beans? We’re not on Family Feud. You ain’t Steve Harvey. Also, last time I checked, the metro wasn’t $18.50. Boy, bye.

Beautiful Jack decided that it would be cool to ghost on me and then booty call me:


WHEN WILL THESE FUCKBOYS LEARN?! Also, I thought he was gay??? Did he want me to come over for a pillow fight? Should I have brought nail polish? I really do need a manicure…

On Sunday I finally achieved the ultimate “catch flights not feelings” when I walked a dude* out of my house so that he could go to the airport and fly home and never speak to me again. It was everything my thotty little heart** has always wanted.
J: K bye forever I guess?
Dude: Yeah, have a nice… life?
J: Thanks bro you too.


*Didn’t remember bringing him home, but according to him I made him play my guitar while I sang to him. I requested “sad songs from middle school” and evidently crushed ‘Remembering Sunday’ by All Time Low. I’m awesome.
**If you’re the kind of person who’s all ’emoji-girl-crossing-her-arms’ about casual sex, I have no idea why you’re still here, but feel free to leave at any time.

On Monday I cancelled a date with a Tinder boy because I looked him up on Facebook and he only had 92 friends. NOPE.


On Wednesday I cancelled a date with a Tinder boy so I could do stand up comedy instead. Life passions > rando dudes.


On Thursday I – you guessed it – cancelled yet another Tinder date so that I could go to happy hour with a coworker. Also because homeboy’s ceiling collapsed and he seemed pretty distraught about it and I didn’t really want to deal with his problems. I got enough problems of my own, like my lack of motivation to leave my couch ever.

So, I’m going to make a solid effort to go on a date this week – or at least not cancel literally every date I schedule. Mostly because my mom worries about me, specifically about me ever finding a mate who will provide his seed so that we can bring her grandchildren into this world.

Or I’ll just keep fucking this super-rich basic Congress boy that I’ve been on three “dates” with until he talks about commitment, then run for the hills.


I just gotta ask myself: What would tequila do?


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